Forced To Kill *NCIS Fan-Fiction*

Chapter 2

I dropped down from my cot and moved towards the window. I pulled the blinds up and checked out those who traveled below. I was looking for him, a man who killed three Mossad agents and tossed the blame to an innocent man. The man's name is Christopher Gould; he himself is working for Mossad, only he does not work for them for the same reasons I do. He joined to have access to government information. He killed three agents, his own team, when they found out he was serving dirty.

Gould is one of the many who would like to see me dead, or be the one to kill me. You see, I came across some sensitive information when I was with Mossad. Before you ask, I do still work with Mossad, they just don't pay me anymore because they think I am the one serving dirty. Before I could reveal my findings, I was attacked and almost killed. They wanted to dispose of me before I exposed them to the world.

I tried to go back to Mossad and share what I knew, but I was framed and now wanted for several murders that they had committed. I fled for my life to America. I knew that I would need to clear my name if I ever wanted to go home. In order to do this I would need proof of what they are doing, more proof then what I already have and someone who will listen to what I have to say.

My eyes fell on Gould and I moved to where I had my .30 caliber sniper rifle set up. This is going to be the last job that I use this for. I looked through the scope of my rifle and took in a breath. I waited for Gould to stop at the cross walk. I reached across the table I was laying on, so that I would have a good angle, and clicked the final button on my laptop. I watched through the scope as Gould reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. I smirked as fear crossed his face. He looked around in attempt to find me before I killed him. His efforts were useless. I pulled the trigger and followed through, watching as Gould dropped like a bag of rocks. I wasn’t always a killer, but I will not pay for what they have done.

I rolled off of the table and gathered up only my essentials. I slipped my laptop and both of my cell phones into my bag, where my spare clothes were already packed. I left the gloves on my hands, not wanting to leave prints anywhere. I did a quick sweep of the room before stepping out of the old building and into the hell below. People were freaking out over the fact that Gould had been killed. If only they knew what he had planned on causing, of course now no one will have to know.

I crossed the street and flagged down a cab, time to get the hell out of dodge. In this case, I need to get out of New York. “Where to, kid?”

“The airport.” I stated plainly. I kept my head low, knowing that cabs now have cameras in them.

The cab driver looked in his mirror to get a view of me. “Alright then.”

The drive was somewhat silent. He had tried to find out where I was from, but I was not about to share that information. He knew I was not from America, partly from my accent and partly from my lack of knowledge of half the crap he was talking about. When we finally arrived to the airport I threw the driver his money and jogged inside. I made my way to the ticket counter, my passport in hand. Unlike what I am sure you are thinking, this is my actual passport. No worries, while Mossad may be searching for me, I have my ways.

I slipped my cell out of my pocket and pressed a few keys. The loading bar displayed across my phone as I began to hack into their systems. Only three people, and thirty seconds separated me from my next target. The timing has to be perfect. I stepped up to the counter. “I need a one way ticket to Quantico, Virginia.”

The woman looked me over. She was most likely considering why a kid my age would be flying alone. Her most rational thought would be that I am a run away. On some level that could be considered true. I am running away. I am running away from those who want to kill me, yet I am also hunting the very same people down. “Okay, I need to see your passport.”