Title: Mysterious Minds
Rating: M (for later chapters)
Warnings: Dark themes, slash, language

Swearing as he swung his backpack over his shoulder, Tony DiNozzo grabbed his jacket and skidded out the door. His groan was strangled by a half-thawed waffle when the door slammed against his hand. Jerking reflexively, Tony's bag spilled open onto the hallway floor.

A frustrated sigh escaping from his lips, he rested his head against the door and muttered to himself. "Just can't win this morning..."

After a week of showing up late, his eyes drooping and dark underneath, bruised from severe sleep deprivation, Tony had made a special effort. Armed with sleeping pills, he had gone to bed early, and woke up in a similar fashion. He hadn't actually been called out on his tardiness yet, but there was no need to push the boss-man's buttons. A fond smile flickered across his face as he thought of his supervisor, his mentor, his boss. An oldschool hardass, Gibbs was one of the few men that Tony truly respected.

Well, maybe this will make him respect you more, a voice in the back of his mind suggested, but Tony smirked at the idea. Showing up to work on time? Probably not much of a respect-earner.

"Need a hand?"

The voice behind him started the agent, nearly jumping out of his skin. He whirled around, and found the man to whom the voice belonged.

A gruff-looking guy, probably forty or so, was crouched just in front of him, shuffling some papers from his bag into some semblance of order. Tony observed him, noting a few scars marring his leonine face, the enormous bands of muscles, and the worn leather jacket. Very formiddable. He replaced the papers, along with a few random knick-knacks that had fallen out, and zippered the bag securely. Taking it back with a grimace of thanks, he stuck out his hand.

"Thanks," he said, rolling his eyes at himself, "Clumsy."

"We all have our moments," the stranger laughed, pumping his hand a few times, "I'm Marcus. Just moved in around the corner."

Noting the odd stressing on different syllables, Tony groaned inwardly at the idea of having another guy on his floor. And a foreign, older guy at that. Goodbye, ladies. But, on the surface, he put on his best welcoming grin. "Welcome to Hell," he joked, fumbling with his keys. He noticed his new neighbor's studded leather gloves and made a feeble attempt at small talk. "Nice duds. You ride?"

The other man hesitated for a moment, then recognition dawned in his eyes. He smirked and held up his hands, flexing his fingers. "Yeah, a bit. Bike's running a little... tough lately, though." He put his hands in his pockets, shrugging. Tony nodded, and turned to lock his door.

"Rough," he corrected, and continued nodding knowingly. "Know what ya mean, though. Used to have one. I'll tell ya, it's definitely the col-"

He was cut off as a strong arm pinned his own to his sides, and a gloved hand clamped a cloth over his mouth. He squirmed helplessly, his consciousness fading, his eyes fluttering as the deep voice chuckled in his ear.

"The cold is about to become the least of your problems, Anthony DiNozzo."

Everything went blank.

In the faint, early light of morning, the elderly woman in apartment 2B looked down into the alley her window opened onto. The lines in her aged face deepened into a frown as she spied her rowdy neighbor being carried over the shoulder of a burly bear of a man.

She muttered to herself, and her beloved Snowball, as he jumped onto the windowsill, batting at her gnarled hand. "What an atrocious young man. Carrying on like he does with easy young women one day,being carried off my strange men the next..."

Her eyes narrowed further as the young man was lain in the back of a mottled old van, and she scowled furiously as the stranged crawled in behind him, laughing.

She scooped up protesting Snowball in her arms, and snapped the curtains closed decisively. "Queer," she spat, listening as the van roared to life and rumbled away.

Chapter 1 of what will hopefully be many. I'm such a tease. And, no, I do not condone that old lady's actions. R&R, please.