NCIS Short Stories

Wait? (POI)

This is not an NCIS story!! I have recently gotten hooked on a series called Person Of Interest. Very good show. If you have netflix watch it. The series ended this year (I died when they announced it), but should have kept going. I love it, and I hope you enjoy this little fanfic.

Here are characters to will see:

John Reese (aka Mr. Reese or our mutual friend), Harold Finch (aka Finch or Glasses), Joss Carter (aka Detective or Carter), Lional Fusco, Agent Mark Snow.

The plot basically is:

John Reese, a former solider who killed for a living, was offered a job by Harold Finch, a billionaire who built a machine to protect the world from terror attacks. The machine came up with two list, relevant and irrelevant. This irrelevant list plagued Harold, who then hired John to help him protect or dispose of the 'numbers' (social security numbers are used to identify the people in trouble). "Whether perp or perpetrator, we will find you."

Time for the story, enjoy!!!!!!!!

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Third Person POV

"Been a while, John," Agent Mark Snow's voice echoed through the room, "You ran out of our meeting last time."

John's features grew cold as he saw the man responsible for his shooting a few months ago, "Sorry to be rude," he said in his baritone voice, "I had a little issue. Someone shot me. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Snow smirked, "Not a clue." He turned to observe the large cathedral they were in. The sun was setting outside, causing the light to glow with thousands of colors as it came through the stained windows. 

"I would believe you Mark," John said as his hand slowly reached for his gun, "But you have always been awful at lying." 

Snow smiled and pulled his weapon. John fired first, the bullet grazing Snows shoulder. Snow fired back hitting John in the lower part of his leg. He hit the ground.

"Oh oops! That was the bad leg, wasn't it John?" Snow smirked. He fired another shot, this one hitting just right of his left shoulder. The pain sparked through John, and his vision blurred, "Oh! Did I mention that the CIA came up with some pretty nice bullets for high-priority targets? Good night John!" He tried to stand, but the pain was unbearable. He had never had a shot hurt this much. Not even when it was two in the same spot, and yes, that had happened. His head spun and he collapsed back onto the ground. Snow walked over to him, a cocky look on his face. He knelt down, "Nothing that some sedatives can't fix right?" 

John's head fell forward as the drug kicked in, and he passed out. His body went limp. Yet he still felt the pain from the two new bullet wounds. The pain wouldn't subside, and it made it all worse. It reminded him of when he had been shot a few months ago. 

He woke up in a dark room, his hands bound behind his back. John struggled against the restraints, which were blistering his wrist. 

"No use trying to break them John. I got 'em extra tight for you," John looked up. He could hear Snow, but couldn't see him. 

"Has it ever stopped me," John asked to the blackness.

"Good point," Snow chuckled, "But if you did I might have to take actions, and I know you hate that."

"What kind of actions? All you can do is hide the agency's mistakes. Are you even good at that Mark?"

He laughed from his spot in the abyss, "I think I finally figured out some things about you."