So, you guys would have gotten two chapters tonight, but my dentist decided he needed two hours to look at my teeth. :p
This chapter is dedicated to themindofmine for the first review! Thank you so much!
Chapter Two
Deception
The door slammed firmly shut after Nate, and Eliot winced slightly. He covered it by running his hand through his brown hair and provoking a scoff from Hardison, who had planted himself in the La-Z-Boy and was running some complicated analysis on the screen.
"What?" Eliot growled, his handing falling to his side. He was in even less of a mood than normal to be teased, especially not by some bossy, idiotic geek.
"Only girls play with their hair," Hardison flashed one of his annoying smirks, shrugging his shoulder innocently. The plaid scarf that he had worn when he had posed as a DJ slipped off of his neck and landed in a coil in his lap.
"Yeah, and only girls wear scarves," Eliot muttered as Hardison scrambled to reposition the scarf.
"What-" Hardison stammered. "Men wear scarves. 'Course they wear scarves. You ever seen those mannequins at the store? They wear scarves all the time. Oh, wait, of course you haven't. Because you haven't-"
"Mannequins aren't men, Hardison," Eliot took a sip from his beer to calm himself.
"Guys, stop it!" Parker scolded. "Can't we just all get along until Nate gets back? And Hardison, aren't you supposed to be finding information about our client?"
"Geez, when did you become so bossy?" Eliot muttered, more to himself, as he downed the last of his beer and slammed the bottle on the granite counter with more force than necessary.
Nate had gone down to the bar on the floor below with Sophie to meet their newest client. He'd made Hardison and Eliot promise not to touch his things. He didn't even bother with Parker, who wouldn't have listened if he did.
Eliot allowed his thoughts to drift away from the argument. He wasn't exactly sure why the sudden visit from Torak had surprised him; he'd had a feeling it would happen one day. Once you were in Torak's business, you were in for life. The only way to get out was to die. You didn't simply run away, as Eliot had done. Not because of the chance that Torak would find and kill you, but because of the chance that he would find you and demand you do another job for him.
The movement of a cab across the street caught Eliot's eye. He rushed to close the window, slamming the curtains to the side with such ferocity that Hardison glanced up, confused. It took a lot to distract Hardison from his computer reverie once he got started. Eliot's steely glare, however, was enough to tempt him right back into it.
Parker, however, was a different story.
"What's gotten into you today?" She asked, her head tilted slightly to the side. Eliot was reminded of a dog he had once had as a child, a black lab named Clue.
"Nothing, alright?" Eliot's reply was terse, some of his hidden anxiety leaking out. He pushed past Parker and went to stand at the paneled oak door. "What's taking Nate so long?"
Hardison looked up again. "Chill, dude. He's probably grabbing a drink with Sophie."
"Yeah, I mean, it's no secret they like each other," Parker interjected, looking up innocently from the lock she was halfway through picking.
"Parker," Eliot growled, not wanting the guilt-filled reminder.
"Seriously, I'm surprised they haven't started dating yet."
"Parker!"
"What?" She shrugged, looking confused and annoyed. The door clicked open with a snap, and Parker's face fell. "Drat, just a closet." She slammed the door shut.
Eliot shook his head slightly, hair pricking his eyes as it fell into his unshaven face. "Hardison, you found out anything about our client yet?" The words rolled off his tongue as if they had been rehearsed.
"Not much, actually. I can't find him on any social networking sites, which is strange, because everybody has those, heck, my great-grandmama had one of those!"
"Wow, really? That's so weird! Now tell me what else you found," Eliot's voice was brimming with sarcasm that he didn't quite feel.
Hardison looked up from the computer screen to glare at Eliot, his forehead wrinkling slightly in perturbed annoyance. "Why you gotta be so mean all the time?"
"That would be because he's Eliot," The sound of Nate's voice turned all of their heads' towards the door. The door was open, and Nate was standing on the threshold, his feet spread apart slightly in a subtle and reflexive defensive position. His normally tousled hair was strangely under control, flattened down against his head and shining as though it had been recently rained upon. His black trench coat was decorated with randomly placed wrinkles. Behind him, Sophie Deveroux was glaring full force at the back of his head.
-O-
The following day was nothing short of a downpour, and a heavy one at that. Eliot walked up the front steps to McRoy's pub with a sense of dread and guilt heavier than the rain, and an anger at himself for being so weak. He lingered for a moment at the door, taking in his reflection in the plated glass. His hair hung down in heavy, darkened locks that looked like miniature ropes. Dark circles plagued his eyes, unusual even after sleeping only 90 minutes a day. His black leather motorcycle jacket…
Had a hand resting on it.
Before he could react, he was ripped away from the pub into a side alley, two hands shoving him up against a moldy brick wall with nearly as much force as Eliot himself was capable of. Eliot swore and squinted through the rain at his attacker. All he could see were bulging muscles and an oval-shaped head with cropped black hair.
The same gargantuan hands closed around his throat with such force Eliot's neck almost immediately went numb. He swore, or tried to, and lashed out with his foot. His boot connected with solid flesh and the man grunted, his grip loosening ever so slightly. Eliot retracted his foot before he fell off balance, and his hand shot up to grab the man's arm. Gasping for air that wasn't there, he used every ounce of his strength to squeeze down on his attacker's forearm. The attacker swore and his hands dropped.
Eliot staggered forward, his knees nearly giving way under him. Shaking slightly, he gasped in air, his mouth parting somewhat. His assailant let out a roar and swung his fist, nearly missing Eliot's skull as the hitter dodged to the side and planted a roundabout kick in the other man's abdomen. He doubled over, and Eliot slammed his fist on his back… or where his back had been two seconds ago.
The assailant had moved, rapidly to be able to avoid Eliot's counterattack, and was now positioned to Eliot's right. His fist was already slamming into Eliot's face before Eliot had even begun to bring his arm up to block the blow. There was a sick, abnormally loud crunching sound, and blood began to pour out of Eliot's nose. Swearing, Eliot grabbed the aggressor's retreating arm and flipped him onto his back. His head landed with a final, sharp crack on the concrete.
Taking a moment to regain his balance, Eliot flicked the clumps of drenched hair out of his face with a single, spasmodic motion. He reached a grimy hand up to wipe the excess blood from his face, his breathing heavy and ragged. Staring spitefully at the unconscious man for a moment, he limped over and grabbed his wrist. Glancing farther down the alley, he spotted a dumster. It had presumably once been green, but was now caked with so much dirt and filth that any color other than brown was undistinguishable.
Eliot flexed his arm muscles, getting ready to hoist the man into the dumpster, when a flash of muted white caught his eye. He knelt down, slipping a small, half-sheet of crumpled paper out of the man's pocket. Gaze darting around warily as he unrolled the paper, he was almost reluctant to read the words that lay there, scrawled in messy, smudged and bolded print.
'Consider this a warning. Finish the job, or I'll finish you.'
Uttering a string of cusses, he ripped the paper and let it fall to the ground, stomping on it once with his booted foot for effect. Deciding to leave the man lying there on the ground, he marched off to McRoy's pub, rain puddles splashing to his waist. But, he stopped just short of turning the corner out of the alley. He stood for a moment, a shadowy figure outline by the dim light of the lamp on the main street. Slowly, he curled his hands into fists and stepped back until his back hit the wall. Slowly, he slumped down, sinking to his knees on the wet concrete. His normal iron-willed façade disintegrated, diffusing into the air as he bowed his head.
When had his life become so hard? He used to find joy in it, in the physical fight. It was so simple, then. Just do the job, take your money, and disappear until the next job arose. None of the betrayal and deception crap. No feeling of darkness growing roots in your soul.
-O-
"What happened to you?" Parker inquired none too politely as Eliot stamped over the threshold. The rest of the team took in his appearance; sopping clothes, leather jacket most likely ruined, and completely spattered with blood. His face was a mess of blood and sweat, his nose sitting at a slightly crooked angle. His lip was split in three places, and a trickle of blood still flowed out of his mouth. Not to mention the already ripening, ghastly purple bruises around his neck.
Eliot took off his jacket. "Run it, Hardison," his voice was gravelly and fused with a warning tone.
"But-"
"Just. Run. It."
Nate squinted his eyes at Eliot, then turned and gave a slight nod to Hardison. Eliot limped over to the fridge and rummaged through for an ice pack, diverting his gaze from everyone's prying eyes, while Hardison began the presentation
"Charles Schulz, the third," Hardison gestured toward the screen, neck twitching slightly as he tried to avoid staring at Eliot again. On the giant screen was a picture of a man in his late thirties, wearing a tan polo and holding a wine glass up in a friendly gesture. His wide smile and flashing green eyes, offset with purposely tousled brown hair, completed the look of a genuinely honest person.
"Don't let his looks fool you," Hardison continued, fully caught up in his presentation now. "He runs a worldwide successful grocery chain."
"Grocery chain? How is that evil?" Parker wrinkled her nose in confusion, and Eliot groaned inwardly, coming over to stand behind the burgundy couch.
"I'm getting there, just-just let me do my thing," Hardison protested, waving the remote. "Anyway, as I was saying," he cast a pointed look at Parker. "he owns a grocery chain called 'Schulz Grocers'-"
"How original," Sophie muttered, looking away in disdain.
"Ok, are ya all done with the interruptions, here? Can I continue?" He waited, but there was only silence. "Thank you. So, before he was owner of Schulz Grocers, he worked for a clothing store." Several images flashed up on the screen. "A year after he started working there, he was charged with fraud, and forced to quit. A year later, the clothing store went out of business.
"Now," he looked at Parker. "Our client, Robert Yates, has a brother that worked for Schulz Grocers as a trucker, delivering loads of groceries to stores all around the area. Last month, the brakes of the truck he was driving broke, and he crashed into the highway guardrail, which, luckily, stopped him from rolling down the hill. However, the entire front of the truck was smashed in, and Robert's brother, Paul, suffered a concussion, broken femur, and two broken ribs. But that's not the problem.
"Paul's other leg was completely crushed in the accident, and had to be amputated. Paul won't ever be able to walk again, unless he pays for a prosthetic leg. Which he can't afford, because the grocery company had enough lawyer friends to stay out of court, and…" he trailed off, glancing warily at Nate.
Nate crossed his arms, a grim look on his face. "And the insurance company denied his claim."
A/N: Disclaimer: I'm really tired right now, so let's just leave it at I don't own Leverage, k?
This chapter is dedicated to themindofmine for being my first reviewer of this story, thank you so much! :) I hope you keep reviewing! ;) And thanks to all my other reviewers and favoriters! (is that even a word? i doubt it ;) )
This chapter was inspired by Airplanes by B.O.B, and you can tell especially in the paragraph where Eliot has just defeated his attacker.
Btw, if you didn't see it the first time, that was a hint that you should review too.
