A Marine Turned Assassin {NCIS}

Chapter 1: The Proposition

8th of January 2015
Azalea

One mile.

My breath caught painfully in my throat but I still forced myself on.

My legs were like lead pistons but I still pumped them.

My chest was imploding but I still carried on.

Gritting my teeth I pushed myself towards the large hill studded with trees, as my D.I liked to inform the platoon, he's ran up steeper carrying a wounded soldier who had fifty pounds on him, with Charlie tearing up his ass.

The muscles in my legs seized as I attempted to run up the hill, I repositioned the weighted pack on my back and used my hands to balance myself before setting off.

I tried to keep a consistent, fast pace, it was worse if you slowed down as your legs flat-out refused to get going again; I found out the hard way.

I skidded slightly in swampy mud, rain had been pelting us since we'd started, we could deal with it when we were running on tarmac but during the 'cross-country' part of the run I'd seen many people with the seat of their sweatshorts stained with mud. Using the trees to propel me up the final steep bit of bank and onto the straight 200 meter stretch, then it plunged into a steep decline before rising up again slightly.

I stretched myself into a sprint, desperate to make up the crucial seconds that I wasted getting up the hill. Mud splattered up my throbbing legs and my feet landed in dirty pools, saturating my feet, but I didn't care.

All too soon the hill began to drop into its steep fall, I flung myself into trees to stop myself falling on my ass and sliding down.

Stumbling slightly over tree roots I ran up the final little hill, emerging onto the road where my D.I, Gunnery Sergeant Joseph, was waiting with a stop watch. "14 minutes 39 seconds, not bad Marine." I shed my weight pack and nodded, resting my head between my legs as I caught, or tried to catch, my breath.

A Humvee rumbled along the road, causing me to scramble onto the grassy verge.

The driver quickly handed over a message before retreating into the driving rain, our D.I squinted slightly as he scanned the paper, then stuffed it into his pocket.

"Gibbs? Azalea Gibbs?" He yelled, my head snapped up on it's own accord. "Yes, Gunny?" I replied, rising to my feet. "Master Gunnery Sergeant Symonds would like a word with you, ASAP." He ordered, I asked to be excused, once he'd said yes I hurtled down the road towards Symond's office.

I tidied up my bun which was tumbling out of its pins and tried to look myself look as presentable as possible before knocking. As I reached forward the door sprung open and a fellow Marine, who I'd met on the bus all that time ago, walked out in a bit of a dase.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Symonds noticed me standing to the side, a little embarrassed. "Gibbs? Come in and take a seat." I shuffled into the room "thank you for the offer, Sir, but I think I'll pass." glancing at my wet, mud stained gym clothes. He smiled as he noticed my attire "that may be in the best interests, for my chair at least." he joked, taking a seat behind the large desk.

"I would like to personally congratulate you on passing, you're now a Current Rifle Expert, I believe." He told me.

"Yes, Sir." I replied. Only speak when spoken to.

"Do you know where you're designated yet?"

"No, Sir. But I heard through scuttlebutt that it's a Scout Sniper billet, Sir."

"Scuttlebutt isn't reliable, you know"

"I know, Sir."

Symonds retrieved a folder from his drawer and placed it in front of him.