It was the end of a busy day, one of several down days Nate had promised they'd have after the last con went sideways. He'd retreated to the kitchen, taking his frustrations and anger out on the unsuspecting vegetables and sauces that made up the brew pubs menu. Having spent the day working his way through brunch, lunch, and early dinner rushes; he now sat in his dimly lit office, eying the beige envelope that sat in the center of his desk. The embossed return address read Lindsey MacDonald Esquire; he knew without even opening it what the letter would say. Letting his head hang for just a moment; taking a deep breath Eliot opened the envelope and began to read . . .
Eliot –
As cliché as it sounds, bro – if you're reading this I'm gone. Not just gone, as in I've
had to go to ground, but gone as in I'm not coming back; I'm dead. All I can do is hope
that I went out in a blaze of glory. . .
He paused; trying to process how the vibrant bouncing Brian O'Conner – ex-LAPD officer, ex-FBI officer, 100% gear head, adrenaline junky street raiser was gone. As the thought began to sink in; he realized it didn't matter how. It didn't matter who, or why, but someone would have to pay.
As his mind began to wonder to the memories of the other man, it seemed like a lifetime ago when he'd stood aboard the houseboat with Brian's arms wrapped around him . . . The sound of the computer on his desk coming to life drew his attention back to the current. An eyebrow raised and a growl building low in his throat; he knew of at least 4 other hackers outside of Hardison that could do this, most of which knew he worked with a hacker and would avoid trying to contact him on one of the Leverage International servers. So, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed he waited for the unknown intruder to identify themselves.
His answer wasn't long in coming, as the phantom controller launched a rarely used encrypted video chat program written by a member of an elite military group; specifically the youngest member of the most recent generation of the A-Team. Affectionately known by those who admired them as well as hated them alike as The Losers; pinching the bridge of his nose he waited as the connection to finish.
Few knew that Brian O'Conner had a younger half brother; even fewer knew he was in the military, and fewer still knew he was the com-man for The Losers. To his team he was Jensen, to the hacking community he was known as "Ghost", but to Eliot he was his heart's little brother. Another man, they'd thought of as brother had once said that the two were like over-eager puppies until you threatened one of their own – then they became vicious guardians of family. The only difference being one tended to run with a barely tame Cougar and the other with a Wolf.
Shaking his head he watched as the connection was established and the younger man materialized on the screen. Eliot sat the letter aside; he knew by the hard set of the other man's jaw – he had a job to do . . .