A/N: This title is inspired by the Boondock Saints, my favourite movie next to the Breakfast Club, naturally. All El wants is a little truth and justice, m'right? This measly ficlet is a bit of plausible insight into our hitter. I came up with it when I re-watched The 12-Step Job; at that part where Hardison sits in the car seat rigged with a pressure-sensitive bomb, Eliot gets this intriguing glint in his eye. As he dismantles the device under the hood, his hands are shaking very noticeably. Interesting how he could gun down all of Moreau's men with three pistols and come out unscathed and all hardcore, but he couldn't stoically disengage a bomb, while Hardison and Parker handled that EMP bomb like it was nothing, hmm? And the way he acted when Sophie held the vase rigged with one as well... I think our boy has an issue with 'em by now. We all know how much he hates guns (anyone else reminded of the Doctor?). The third bit of this fic is gathered from the character's development I've sensed from other fics. I love this fandom, we have so many great authors! If you read all of this, I'm sorry I ramble, just explaining the fic. This note's almost longer than the oneshot so I'll just shut up now.
Eliot Spencer is a trained killer, a renowned retrieval specialist, and a professional thief. He's been in countless compromising situations and sacrificed a lot to survive. He can't fall into a distinguishable routine and he can't afford to be picky but there are three distinct weapons that he avoids whenever possible.
Eliot doesn't like guns. He doesn't trust weapons that you can't control, and holding a jammed or unloaded gun is as good as a bullet to the head. Most idiots that hold a pistol aren't trained and end up complicating things. The other reason that he has an aversion to them is because they're so easy to use. One press of a trigger and a body drops, no fuss; it shouldn't be that simple. The hitter uses his body, his hands as his only weapons. He's in control and he choses how to handle a situation. Guns are unreliable, and people are unpredictable with them.
If he dislikes guns, the assassin hates bombs. They're big, they're messy, they're complex. The tricky thing about a bomb is that you never see it until it's too late. There's panic and stress, which interfere with the process of fight or flight. Because you can't fight a bomb, you either stabilize it or run like hell, and the latter usually ends with carnage. It's never a sure kill, just a sure fire way to make a mess.
In the end, he'd take a dozen armed goons and a bomb to boot over mind games. They're the weapon that can break a man without a finger lain upon him. He'd take waterboarding over being trapped at the hands of the likes of Damien Moreau. Eliot is strong of mind and body but everyone has their limits, especially in terms of mental capability. Manipulation warps things, confuses everything and spins it into something so complex that you don't even know you've lost your free will. Perhaps this is why he respects the "honest" leader of their little team; the ex-insurance investigator has the power to control, and despite his need for that power, he remains objective. Only a truly good man has that strength. Eliot Spencer understands that, as he's spent his life mastering that discipline. After all, how can he not trust an honest man that knows what he is capable of, and does what he knows is right? Nathan Ford is the opposite of who Eliot Spencer used to be, and nothing could earn more respect from the hitter. That's why he'd gladly face any of these weapons, even Moreau, to protect this amazing team of good criminals, this family, this honest man in a dishonest world.
