"Ohmigod, Timmy! What happened?" Abby dropped her black lace parasol and ran to the special agent who was sporting a severe looking black eye as well as a small scratch on his cheek.

He sighed, slightly embarrassed. "It's no big deal, Abbs," he told her, trying to entangle himself from her tight grasp without dropping the bowl of potato salad he was carrying. He was grateful that, thus far, most of the people at the annual NCIS Cookout hadn't noticed him or his injury. "It's just something that happened yesterday."

"He was punched," Sarah McGee interjected from her place beside him.

"Timmy! Getting punched is not ''no big deal'!" Abby admonished. "Who was it?" The forensic scientist's eyes flashed with anger. No one hurt her geek and got away with it!

"Some guy," Tim told her vaguely, hoping that the entire incident would be dropped quickly. No such luck.

"That is some glower, McGee," Ziva commented as she joined the group with Tony close behind.

"We call them 'shiners,' Ziva," Tony corrected, a bemused smirk on his face as he eyed Tim. "You get into a fight with one of those fairies you play your online game with, Elf Lord?"

Abby smacked him harshly on the shoulder. "Tony! Timmy was attacked by some maniac!"

"Abby, it was one punch! It's nothing—"

"Shush," she scolded, shaking her finger at him. "What did he look like? Did you get a name? License plate? Any DNA or fingerprints?" Tim placed his hand over her mouth before she could talk herself into a conniption fit.

"We gave all of the information to the cops and they are going to take care of it." Behind him Sarah snorted. He glared at her, his eyes begging her to drop it. Unfortunately, she was much more stubborn than her brother.

"Yeah, I could tell it was high on their list of priorities," she said sarcastically. "You should have jumped in your car and gone after him when I told you to! You can't be such a wimp!" Tim groaned. He walked ahead to an empty picnic table, trying to ignore his sister's rambling. "You're a federal agent, Tim! You have the power and right to protect yourself against scum like that."

"Scum like what?" Ducky inquired as he set down a covered bowl on the picnic table.

"Donald!" his mother nudged him with her cane. "I've told you not to use such filthy language!" She plopped ungracefully onto the bench. In her hand were four leashes, each one attached to a yapping Corgi. "Duchess doesn't like it when you do," she scolded, plucking Duchess from the ground and placing her on the table. The dog began sniffing at the trays and bowls of food, licking here and there.

Ducky heaved a sigh, grabbing the Corgi and placing her back on the ground with the others. "Mother, this is why I didn't want you to bring the dogs. They cannot be on the table. We are not at home!"

"Oh, fiddlesticks!" the woman cried with a pout. Still, she didn't attempt to put any of the dogs on the table, though she did grab small globs of food to let them lick at.

Ducky, still keeping one eye on the elderly woman, turned his attention back to Tim. A small crowd was forming around their table. Sarah was still ranting about Tim's inaction during the incident that had occurred the day before and Abby was still falling over Tim, trying to tend to his wounds. Tim looked like he wanted to disappear. "Now, then, Timothy, would you like to tell us what happened?" Ducky asked.

Before Tim could even open his mouth to answer, Sarah answered. "He was assaulted by some crazy guy when he stopped for gas yesterday."

"Sarah," Tim moaned. "Guys, I told you it's not a big deal. Now just let it go."

"How did it happen?" Abby asked Sarah after she realized Tim wasn't going to give her a straight answer.

"We'd had lunch and he stopped to fill up and Tim had a headache so we went inside the little convenience store…"

"Ugh!" Sarah glanced at the Hummer parked out front in a handicapped spot. "I hate when people do that. Those spots are for people with actual physical inabilities, not for lazy douchebags who can't be bothered to walk two extra feet to get into the store."

Tim rolled his eyes sensing that Sarah was about to start on one of her rants. Not that he didn't agree with her, but there was nothing they could do about it so there was really no point in complaining. He opened the door for her, simply nodding mutely as she explained the evils of physically able people who took handicapped parking spots. "Suppose you were in a wheelchair and you actually needed that closer spot and some idiot just took it from you and you saw him walking out on his perfectly working legs while you huffed and puffed, pushing your wheelchair closer? How would that make you feel?"

"Not good," he muttered, only half listening as he browsed through the pain relievers.

"Exactly!" she told him, not even noticing his lack of attention. "But the assholes who park there just don't care. They have absolutely no empathy for the plight of their fellow human beings."

Tim grabbed a large bottle of Tylenol and made his way to the counter where a small line of three people had formed. Sarah trailed behind him, now talking about the many injustices of the world. She was speaking loud enough for the entire store to hear and Tim noticed other customers glancing at them in annoyance. When they reached the counter he turned to her, about to tell her to give it a rest when a large man pushed in front of the two.

"Um, excuse me!" Sarah snarled at the man who turned to look at her. He was at least as tall as Tim, though he looked like he spent about as much time lifting weights as Tim spent at a computer. His green eyes looked at Sarah with a mixture of annoyance, amusement, and lethargy.

"What, sweetheart?"

Though he looked as though he could bench press her, Sarah wasn't the slightest bit intimidated. "My name is not 'sweetheart,'" she snapped, "and you cut in front of us."

The guy snickered. "What? Are you gonna tell on me?" He turned back to the counter without a second glance at the McGee siblings.

Tim tried to stop his sister, but she pushed past him, tapping the man on the shoulder. Actually, it was more of a jab on the shoulder than it was a tap. "You can't just do whatever the hell you want!" she informed him.

The man whipped around, now very angry. He smacked her hand away. "Look, girl, leave me alone and go cry to someone else." He shoved her back harshly.

Tim's brotherly instincts kicked in, grabbing Sarah before she fell. "Hey," he said angrily, grabbing the man's arm, "don't touch my sister!" He spun the man around and was met with a right hook. The ring the man wore scraped against his cheek, leaving a small scratch in addition to the black eye he knew he was going to have. Tim didn't fall, but he stumbled back slightly and grabbed a hold of a candy display to keep from toppling over.

The man grabbed his items and ran out of the store to the Hummer parked in the handicapped spot. Sarah snorted. "Figures," she muttered as she helped Tim, who was still in shock from what had just happened.

"The cashier called the cops, but they didn't seem too concerned with the ordeal," Sarah finished bitterly. "They said they'd work on it, but they weren't making any promises. I think they just didn't care."

Abby's eyes narrowed, her hands gripping tightly at the handle of her parasol. "Sarah, did you get a good look at the license plate?" Tim could see the wheels of her mind churning and looked at her in horror.

"Abby! You are not going to track down this guy! Let the cops do their job."

"All I can remember is that the first three characters were 'EK3,'" Sarah told her, ignoring Tim's comment. "He had green eyes and red hair. I think he was in his late thirties. Oh, and he had a tattoo of a shark on the back of his neck!"

Abby grabbed Sarah's hand, pulling her away from the table and toward the parking lot. "We can run a search on my computer," she said excitedly. Behind them a dumbfounded and agitated Tim was calling out to them, his protest falling on deaf ears.

"Won't we have to go to your lab to do that?"

"Pshaw! I keep a computer with me at all times," she explained as she opened the back of her hearse. Inside was a small wooden coffin. "Oh, don't worry, I just use it to store my laptop," Abby told her, unlocking and opening it to reveal a Dell laptop. "There's a mini air conditioning system installed to keep my baby from getting too hot.

"Does it get wireless?" Sarah asked as Abby began booting up the computer.

"Duh!" she replied, rolling her eyes. "I can always pick up a server nearby, it's just a matter of cracking into their system."

"Is that legal?"

"Does it really matter?"

Sarah grinned. She really, really liked Abby.

"Hello?" a voice crooned. The pair looked up to see Mrs. Mallard peering into the driver side window. She was still holding the leashes of her Corgis, all four running about her feet and yapping. The leashes had become tangled about her body, but she didn't seem to notice "Where is the driver?"

"It's not a taxi, Mrs. Mallard," Abby explained, gently unraveling the leashes from around the woman. "It's my car."

The woman peered at Abby. "Gloria?"

"No, it's Abby, remember? I work with your son?" Mrs. Mallard blinked, Abby's words not registering with her. "I'm the one with the farting hippo."

"Hippo? I swam with hippos once!" she said, her eyes lighting up. "They are very vicious animals and…" she trailed off, catching sight of the computer. "What is this? Is this one of those new fangled typewriters I keep hearing so much about?" She dropped the leashes and began jabbing at the keyboard. "It seems to be broken!"

Abby, afraid that her baby was about to be hurt by the demented old woman, pulled her away from the laptop as gently as possible. "I'd like to help you, Mrs. Mallard, but Sarah and I are kind of in the middle of something," Abby explained, pointing to Sarah who was trying to ward off the now free Corgis. "Someone attacked her brother and we want to hunt him down and make him regret it."

Mrs. Mallard harrumphed. "People just don't protect themselves the way they should! When I was nine, my father gave me one of his hunting knives to carry around with me for protection. I kept it in my brassiere and I still do!" As though to prove her point she reached down into her dress and pulled out a long, sharp knife. "No man has ever tried to mess with me!"

"Mother!" Ducky scolded as both he and Tim approached the group. "Put that away and take a hold of the dogs before Tyson attacks someone! The last thing we need is another lawsuit."

"Abby, this has gone far enough. I want you and Sarah to stop this."

"Oh, Timmy," Abby said shaking her head. "If you aren't going to help us we're going to have to leave you behind. Abby handed her laptop to Sarah. "Come on, Sarah, we'll track him down." She situated herself behind the wheel and Sarah slid in next to her.

"Oh, may I come along?" Mrs. Mallard asked. She was holding two of the Corgis, the other two biting at her shoes. "I just love going for drives."

Abby glanced at Sarah who shrugged in response. "She does have a knife," Abby whispered. "Hop in Mrs. Mallard!"

"Abigail!"

"Don't worry, Duckman, we'll take extra special care of her for you!" Abby assured him as Mrs. Mallard slid into the front seat next to Sarah and placed the four dogs into the back next to the coffin.

"It's not her safety I'm worried about!" he shouted as the engine roared. The hearse, three women, and four Corgis were off.

Jason Cazarat was spread out on his couch, a beer in one hand and a cigarette smoldering in the other. His head was propped up on one armrest, his bare feet propped up on the other. On his television, scantily clad women paraded around, pouting and smile at the camera…almost as though they were pouting and smiling directly at Jason himself.

"Christ," he muttered as he flicked ashes to the floor, "what I wouldn't give for a woman to show up at my front door right now."

Unbeknownst to him, three women were currently on their way.

"So what exactly am I supposed to be doing, Abby?"

"I have a program Tim wrote for me that will cross check the different criteria of our suspect with people who own the vehicle – in this case the Hummer – with the –"

"Abby, I may be related to Tim, but my knowledge of computers is limited to turning it on and using the internet. Just tell me what to click and I'll be fine."

The three women were barreling down the street. Abby was focusing on the road and Sarah was focusing on the computer screen. Mrs. Mallard was holding one of her dogs in her arms, the two of them sticking their heads out of the window. The other dogs had finally quieted down and had resigned themselves to sniffing around in the back.

Abby came to a red light and leaned over, clicking a few keys. A new screen popped up. "Now just put in the car here, the license plate numbers here, and what you can remember about the guy here."

Sarah began typing in what she could remember about the man who had assaulted her brother. "What exactly are we going to do if we find him?"

"When we find him we'll show him that you don't get to mess with Timothy McGee and get away with it." The light turned green and she floored the accelerator.

"Are we going to the picture show?"

"No, Mrs. Mallard, we're going to find the man who hurt Tim."

"…who are you?"

"I'm Abby, the one who looks like your sister Gloria."

Mrs. Mallard's expression turned dour. "Oh, how I hated her!"

"Hey, I think I've got the guy," Sarah interrupted. "His name is Jason Cazarat. He drives a Hummer, license plate EK3P42G." She pulled up his driver's license. "That's him!" she screeched, looking at the smug bastard pictured before her.

"Address," Abby commanded.

"3452 Yuma St."

As the hearse once again accelerated the Corgis began yapping shrilly. Mrs. Mallard scolded Abby, insisting she slow down. Still, there was no hiding the glint of amusement and excitement that gleamed in the woman's eyes.

"Abby," Sarah began, clutching to the seat as the hearse narrowly missed hitting an oncoming car, "do you think we should come up with a plan on how to handle him when we get there?"

"We ring the doorbell and when he opens the door we grab him and pull him into the hearse. We then drive him back to the park and force him to apologize to Tim. Once he does he will be free to go on his merry way," Abby explained as though the plan were completely fool proof, not to mention completely legal. "Mrs. Mallard has her knife, so we're armed. Besides, it's three women against a man. No one would possibly suspect us of doing harm."

Jason was pulled from his fantasies by a sharp rapping at the door. He paused the video and begrudgingly pulled himself from the comfort of his couch. "God, this had better be important," he mumbled, scratching his chest. "Yeah, yeah! I'm coming," he called as the rapping resumed.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Jason had barely opened the door when a tall woman with dark make-up pushed in, her face in his. "What, you think you can just hurt people and get away with it?" she snarled, her finger jabbing into his chest.

Jason took a step back, his hands raised in defense. He quickly looked the woman up and down, trying not to keep a smirk off his face. Despite the fact that she was insane, he could see hooking up with her. "Whoa! I don't know who you are, lady–"

"My name is Abby!"

"Fine, then, Abby! I don't know what your beef is. I've never seen you before in my life. Now unless you want to get hurt I suggest you turn your tattooed butt around and drive out of here."

The group of dogs flew past the door, barking and growling. They made a beeline for Jason's feet, nipping and snapping at them. "What the…!" He shook his leg, trying in vain to shove the dogs away from him.

"You harm one hair on those dogs and I'll have your head!" a feeble, yet shrill voice rang out. Mrs. Mallard hobbled in behind Abby, pulling the knife from her dress.

"Who the hell are you, lady?"

"Do not use such language around ladies!" she ordered, swinging the knife back and forth. "Such rudeness!"

Jason backed away from the group of dogs and crazy women. "Look, I don't know what is going on, but I will call the cops."

"Please do," a third voice chimed in. "Maybe you can explain why you assaulted my brother yesterday."

Jason furrowed his brow, trying to place where he had seen this girl. "Wait…you're that priss who was standing behind me yesterday! Yeah, you and that wimp kept bugging me!"

Abby glowered. "He's not a wimp! He's a federal agent and when you mess with him, you mess with us!" She glanced at Mrs. Mallard who was currently looking at her reflection in the large knife. "Well, mostly you mess with me and her," she said, jerking her thumb in Sarah's direction, "but we've enlisted the aid of this woman and her dogs."

"This is insanity!" Jason looked around the room for something to defend himself with. He felt a sharp pain. "Ouch! God dammit!"

"Tyson! Sit!" Mrs. Mallard ordered the Corgi who had just sunk his teeth into Jason's ankle. The dog sat, looking back at her with innocent eyes.

Jason was leaning down to check his wound when he felt cold metal being twisted around his wrists. He looked back and saw Abby clicking handcuffs in place. "This is unlawful restraint!"

"Come on! We're going for a ride!" Abby said, taking one arm as Sarah took the other. The two of them pushed him to the door, ignoring his yells of protest. Mrs. Mallard followed behind them with her dogs at her feet. Her knife was poised at his back, ready to jump into action if need be.

"You're really going to regret yesterday," Sarah told him as they shoved him into the back of the hearse. The dogs jumped in on top of him, barking and nipping at him as he struggled to free himself of the handcuffs.

The ride back to the park had been peaceful. Sure the dogs didn't stop yapping and Jason kept yelling that he was going to sue them for everything they had (though that had ended as soon as Abby threatened to put him in the coffin). Still, the women couldn't help but feel accomplished. They had sought revenge for Timothy McGee and they had succeeded.

When Abby pulled the hearse back into the parking lot she saw Ducky and Tim standing just where they had been when she had pulled out, almost as though they had never actually left. She honked the horn gleefully and waved to Tim, who simply stood there in shock. She pulled into her spot and jumped out, enveloping him in a hug. "Oh, Timmy! You're going to be so proud of us!"

Sarah slid out as well and walked to the back. "We found him!" she announced as she opened the door. The dogs jumped out and ran to the grass to take care of some necessary business.

"Abby! Sarah!" Tim cried as the man was dragged out from the back.

"Mother!" Ducky added. "What have you done?"

"Oh, poppycock, Donald! I never get to have any fun!"

"Sir, I am so sorry!" Tim said to the man standing before him.

"Tim! He's supposed to be apologizing to you, not the other way around!" Abby scolded.

"Get these crazy broads off me!" Jason begged Tim. The hulking man was near hysterics.

"You apologize, you get to go free. It's as simple as that, bud," Sarah explained, a smug grin on her face.

"Fine! I'm sorry, man! I'm sorry that I punched you."

"And…?"

"And it will never ever happen again! Now let me go!" he shrieked.

Abby and Sarah exchanged a glance. After a moment they both smiled and nodded. "Okay," Abby said as she pulled the key from her pocket, "but if I hear about you doing anything like this again…I know where you live." She smiled mischievously.

Tim looked at the man crumbling before him. "Sir, I'll gladly give you a ride home…"

Jason took off running as soon as the cuffs were off. "Don't bother! You're all crazy!" As he fled from the parking lot the Corgis followed behind. Mrs. Mallard, in turn, hobbled after them causing Ducky to chase after her, leaving only Abby, Sarah, and Tim remaining by the hearse. The two girls pulled the special agent into a hug.

"See, Tim, aren't you glad we went after him for you?" Sarah asked.

"No!" he shouted, pulling away from both of them. "You cannot take the law into your own hands and kidnap people like that!"

The two girls looked at each other in shock. "Can you believe how ungrateful he is?" Abby asked.

Sarah simply rolled her eyes. "That's just how he is. He can be such a whiny baby."

"Seriously, McGee, if you didn't want our help you could have saved me the gas by just telling us."

"I did tell you! I told you a dozen times!"

"McGee, there's no need to shout," Abby scolded, wagging her finger at him. She took Sarah's arm in hers. "Come on, Sarah, let's go get some food and leave your unappreciative brother to sulk alone."

As the two women walked off, Tim leaned back against the hearse, the sounds of yapping Corgis and a shouting elderly woman wafting through the air. There was only one explanation for all of this. Women are crazy!

AN: I pretty much tried to come up with the strangest trio I could think of for this challenge. Reviews, as always, are appreciated! Thanks for taking the time to read this!