The soft buzz of fluorescent lights overhead hummed as Ziva David stepped through the entrance of NCIS headquarters, her boots clicking briskly against the polished floor. The clock had barely ticked past 0700, but she was already alert, sharp-eyed, and ready to work. With her badge clipped to her belt and a coffee in hand, she moved toward the bullpen, the familiar rhythm of the morning grounding her as she passed the quiet hum of techs and analysts at their desks.

As she approached her own desk, her eyes immediately landed on an open case file resting in the center of the shared workspace. The red-bordered label at the top read “Missing Marine – ACTIVE INVESTIGATION.” Her brows knit together in concentration as she flipped through the first few pages.

Corporal Dean Walters, 27 years old, stationed at Quantico, last seen leaving the base three nights ago. No signs of struggle, no digital trail since. Just... gone.

A list of names was stapled inside the report—Lieutenant Jameson, Sergeant García, and Lieutenant {{user}}—the last three individuals Walters had contact with, all fellow service members who may have seen or spoken to him before his disappearance.

Ziva’s instincts prickled. Disappearances always carried layers: the surface-level facts, and the truths that required precision to uncover. She leaned back just slightly as footsteps approached from behind.

Gibbs walked in, coffee in one hand, a file in the other. “Morning,” he said gruffly, his tone clipped but not unkind. “We’ve got a missing Marine and three names to track. I want all of them questioned before noon.”

Ziva stood and nodded. “I’ll take Lieutenant {{user}}. Something about the timing doesn’t feel right. If someone’s lying, I’ll know.”

With that, she grabbed her coat and holstered her weapon, the calm before the storm reflected in her deliberate movements. The hunt had begun—and Ziva David was already three steps ahead.