Wounded Warrior Project

Wounded Warrior Project
Introduction to Anisa


“Anisa Shannon to see Ziva David, please.”

The security officer nodded, holding out his hand for her identification before glancing up from his post. His breath hitched when her piercing blue eyes met his and he had to fight to quash the urge to snap to attention for this civilian. She handed him her passport and smiled, perfectly aware of the effect she had on him. It still pleased her that even in every day jeans and a plain white blouse, she commanded such respect.

The officer stood, handing her the temporary badge to allow her access to the offices, and very respectfully gave her directions. She smiled at him and nodded, her eyes granting him warm approval. He blushed as she turned towards the elevators.

The well-built brunette stepped out of the elevator as Ziva stood and peered over the low wall of the cubicle. “Anisa!” she exclaimed, genuinely delighted to see her cousin.

“Ziva, how are you?” Anisa asked anxiously as the two women embraced. Agents McGee and DiNozza stood watching them, both with open curiosity.

Gibbs appeared from around the corner, strangling a Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand, extending his other in greeting. “Special Agent Gibbs, Ms. Shannon.”

“Anisa Shannon, Special Agent, it is my pleasure to meet you.”

“And mine,” he replied quietly. “Special Agent Anthony DiNozza and Timothy McGee, respectively.” Gibbs motioned to the two men waiting for their audience.

Dinozza leered at the smaller statured woman. A wicked gleam lit her eyes and she graced him with a crooked, knowing smile, and a more than firm handshake.

McGee stammered a bit, awe showing on his face, “Anisa Shannon? Ma’am, this is truly an honor.”

“You know me?” Anisa asked incredulously, studying the boyish charms of the man who stood before her much more closely. “I, ah,” he stuttered, unsure how to proceed.

“Ah, I believe I understand Agent McGee,” she covered for him, smiling warmly and holding his firm hand shake just a moment longer than she had held the others, slipping her fingers along his palm, prolonging their contact just a fraction more than necessary.

“Agent Gibbs, you asked for my expert opinion regarding some wounds found on a body?” Deftly, Anisa refocused the conversation, leaving DiNozza to eye McGee suspiciously behind her back.

“Yes, Ziva thought you might recognize the killer’s handiwork,” Gibbs added.

“Then, by all means, allow me to view this handiwork,” she requested. A tight smile twisted her face. All five reentered the elevator to descend to the morgue, quite a tight fit, and Anisa took full advantage to press a bit more closely than necessary against one Special Agent Timothy McGee, who coughed and blushed very prettily.

Dr. Mallard glanced up as the party of players entered his work area. The brunette woman nodded to him, extending her hand courteously, not waiting for any of her companions to take the initiative. “I am Anisa Shannon, Dr. Mallard. May I please have permission to examine the body in question?”

Ducky took her hand warmly, appraising her closely as he offered genially, “Of course, my dear.” He released her hand and bustled away, motioning for her to follow. “Really a sad chap, this one. I cannot remember seeing such wounds on a body before this instance.”

Anisa’s face tightened in anger as Ducky drew back the crisp white sheet protecting the dead man’s modesty. She glowered at the harsh rawhide laces restricting his penis in a tortuous crossed manner. Her hand reached out tentatively to trace the raised welts on his chest, the cleaned but chewed away nipples. She stopped short of actually touching the body. Ziva watched her face closely, noticing a distasteful sneer curl her lips.

“An amateur’s handiwork …” she began. “The left testicle is ruptured. The nipple clamps were ripped off, probably still have tissue in the teeth somewhere.”

“I’d rather thought these were self-inflicted wounds,” Ducky interjected, pointing to the welts over the man’s chest, leading to his back.

“I highly doubt it. Roll him over, please?” asked Anisa, her eyes pleading with the Doctor to honor her request. “That rawhide was done viciously, no intent at the painful pleasure a true sub would seek. It was soaked in water and left to shrink, I think to severe the appendage, but the user failed in their attempt.” As she peered more closely at the welted tracks of what had to have been a flogger, she growled softly in anger. “These only look to be self-inflicted, the angle is quite wrong for this man to have wielded the flogger in his own hand.” She stepped back and scowled. “This other damage was inflicted post-mortem, correct, Dr. Mallard?” Anisa motioned towards his buttocks and upper thighs.

“Yes, the damage there was all done post-mortem. You have a keen eye, my dear.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mallard. I wish I did not have to use my eye for such reprehensible things.” She stepped back, crossed her arms, and stared balefully at the corpse. “It is my opinion that this man’s condition was staged to appear as though he deceased during sex-play. Have you run tox screens, Dr. Mallard?”

“Ducky, dear, please? And, the results were ready just now.”

“Is there anything unusual?” she pondered, still not taking her eyes off of the dead man.

“There are certain substances present which would have altered his level of consciousness.”

“Definitely staged, and by an amateur with absolutely no finesse. No decent Dom would allow a sub to play altered in any manner.”

“Are you sure this is staged?” Gibbs interrupted.

“Absolutely,” she replied. Anisa bowed her head, crossing herself surreptitiously, then turned to face Gibbs. “You need to look for another cause of death, Agent Gibbs. These methods were meant solely to inflict pain, torture only. I highly doubt this poor man was even a player.”

“Is there a difference?” exclaimed Tony.

“Yes, Agent DiNozza, there is a difference. Would you care for a demonstration?” she snapped in barely contained anger, and a threatening promise in undertones that stirred electricity in the very air itself.

“Demonstration?” he yelped, swallowing hard.

“Are you offering to be my volunteer?” she inquired. Gibbs smiled into his coffee. McGee’s entire face flushed. Ziva laughed.

“Uh, no, thank you. I’ll, uh, take your word for it,” DiNozza backpedalled.

“More’s the pity,” she replied, shrugging and turning for the door. “I imagine you found nothing to indicate that he … engaged … in this type of scene play regularly?” she addressed Gibbs, but McGee answered.

“No ma’am,” he rushed in. She shook her head sadly, her dark hair swinging with the motion. “Very sad. He shows no other signs either,” Anisa observed.

“No other signs?” Gibbs queried.

“No possession markings, no piercings, no old scars, or callous, thickened skin around the wrists or ankles …”

“Ah,” he cut her off, not really wanting to know more.

Anisa refocused her attention on Ducky.

“Thank you for allowing me to have entrance to your morgue, Ducky.”

“My pleasure, Anisa. I hope to meet you again under more pleasant circumstances?”

“I would enjoy that, Ducky. Unfortunately, I am only visiting for a day or two.” She paused, to glance once more at the dead warrior on Ducky’s sterilized table. She seemed to consider something important, then blurt out, “Would you care to join me for dinner this evening?”

Surprised, and pleased, Ducky jumped at the chance. “Most certainly!”

“I will send you my hotel information as soon as the arrangements have been made?”

“Please do, dear?”

She smiled and shook Ducky’s hand before striding from the morgue as though she owned it.

As Ziva, Gibbs, and DiNozza turned to follow her, McGee whispered to himself, “I would too.”

When the assembly had squashed themselves back into the elevator, Anisa extended the invitation to everyone. “I would be honored if you all would join me for dinner this evening. I would greatly enjoy learning more of Ziva’s current coworkers.”

“I’m free,” McGee was quick to accept.

Anisa cocked her head and smiled at him. “I thought you might be, Agent McGee.”

“I think we can all take some time off for dinner this evening,” Gibbs barely concealed his order.

“Wonderful!” Anisa exclaimed. “If I may call my assistant, I’ll know what hotel I’m staying in for the next two days.”

The elevator doors closed.

A/N: Anisa is my OC. She wormed her way into my imagination while watching NCIS. I've been working on a series of short, interconnected stories centering around her. Since, she first visited my imagination with these characters, I thought I might let her play out this story line. Thanks for reading. PW