A Dangerous Man
Summary: (Before Leverage) Nathan Ford, up and coming insurance cop for IYS meets Eliot Spencer, hard edged retrieval specialist. The chase is on for Nathan to recover the stolen items and for Eliot to avoid getting himself into deeper trouble. Can they work together or will they end up tearing each other apart?
Rating: T (swears, blood, wound description)
Author Note: Second chapter for you! This story will take a while to get going since it's not really based off anything in particular other than Nate and Eliot and Nate having chased Eliot at some point. Just for fun I made Eliot have a bit of a psych problem, since he's very Anti-social in the show, but don't worry, all will be explained as the story goes on. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Two: Information
(Eliot)
Deciding to forgo pulling out the truck and trying to maneuver through the thick lunch time traffic I exit out of the hotel and head down the street. The side walks are not as thick with human congestion like the roadways are, filled with the occasional group of school cutting teenagers and errand running businessmen I don't encounter much trouble. Passing by a group of gaggling teenage girls I keep my eyes straight ahead, avoiding the blocky letter printed across their butts but smile to myself at the whispered comments of 'oh damn' and such. Speeding on ahead at a quick pace I make sure to avoid anyone who looks suspicious. People are easy to read, their muscles coil in a different way for every action, and there are always subtle hints with their eyes or hands to tell me of their intent. Like the man ahead of me, acting like he's talking on his cell phone but looking directly behind me at the group of distracted teens. Dressed in baggy pants and a beanie the kid looks remarkably like every would-be thief out there. Knowing his intent by the shift of his eyes and the nervous lick of his lips I stop and draw his attention to me, his brown eyes catching mine.
With a nervous shudder the kid high tails it out of the area, heading back down the alleyway he slithered out from. Nodding to myself I carry on, heading for the downtown business district. As I cross the last street separating the busy and overpopulated business district from the other area of the city I can almost feel my body start to hum with sensitivity. Every person I pass may be an enemy, every thrust of a hand or movement of an arm may bring forth a weapon. Every person I pass and anyone close to me as I wind my way through the mass could be the next one to kill me.
The military psych doctor diagnosed me and most of the men in my unit with a type of Post Traumatic Paranoia. I scoffed at that and refused to take the drugs the doctor prescribed having seen what the other members of the unit turned into after taking them. I disagreed with the doctors diagnosis and when asked by my superior officers I told them straight out that the only thing I suffer from is being twenty-three and already having a confirmed 'kill sheet' of over seventy people and having watched the darker side of war not shown in the movies.
My superiors promptly agreed and discharged me.
"Hot dogs! Pretzels!" A vendor shouts, drawing me out of my moody musings. Glancing around I find myself among the fancy business men and women, their mouths moving rapidly as they chat on their phones or quickly chewing down their lunch. I shudder at the idea of having to do an honest day's living, sitting up in those stuffy offices in those high quality clothes and dealing with people who are more like robots than humans.
Nope, I'll take my blue jeans and my thieving ways thanks.
Stepping up to one of the many vendors lining the walkway I glance quickly up at the sign and pull out the bills.
"Can I get a bottle of water and a salad?" I ask and the man behind the counter nods, retrieving the requested items and putting them up on the counter.
"That'll be seven." He says, already listening to the bossy man in the beige blazer and dress pants behind me. Handing the man the bills I wave at him to keep the change and pick up my food, turning around and running into another man's navy colored shoulder. With a mumbled apology I glance up, finding the other man's eyes wide but a frown on his features.
"Got a problem?" I growl and move away, filing the man's face away for later use if need be. The man replies with a soft 'nothing' but I'm already heading in the opposite direction, towards the small park.
(Nate)
Alimony Al is rumored to be a rich man but lives on the street to avoid having to pay child support on his rumored many kid. No one is really sure how many kids Alimony Al has, but it's rumored to be up to about twelve now. Amongst being a dead-beat dad Alimony Al is also one of Kincade's most trusted informants and if anyone knows about this young thief it would be Al. The business district is his haunt these days so we parked the car and threw ourselves into the throng of business executives and money managers, stopping briefly at a food vendor to get ourselves from lunch and a special 'incentive' for Al to give us the information we want. The man in front of Kincade was just finishing paying when we arrived and I bump shoulders with him accidently. The man mumbles an apology as he looks at me. I frown, the accent telling me he's not from this region. Bright, icy blue eyes snap onto mine and I am puzzled for a moment, caught off guard by the hostility and am stunned when he growls
"Got a problem?" before shoving his way past me and back into the crowd of people, his shoulders tensed with annoyance. I watch the long haired man disappear for a moment before turning back to Kincade who is holding two Hot Dogs with everything and a brown, greasy paper bag.
"Let's go see Al." he says simply and hands me my lunch. I take a bite out of it and wince at the sharp tingle of mustard and relish. Walking through the now thinning crowd I listen for the strumming of Al's six strings. Faintly I can hear the music over the din of voices and street traffic and nudge Kincade, indicating the direction with a thrust of my head. Together we finish the quick lunch and then head for the strumming, rounding a corner into the public sitting area. Beside one of the fountains sits Alimony Al strumming along on his black guitar. We approach slowly and wait patiently for the song to end before catching the man's attention.
"Thank you all for your generosity… thank you." Al presents the few people gathered around as they throw some spare coins into the guitar case. His hawk like eyes zero in on Kincade and he cocks and eyebrow, putting the guitar on the ground beside him.
"Figured I'd bee seeing you boys at some point today." He smiles, teeth graying from lack of care and beard scraggly. Kincade wordlessly hands the vagabond the bag of food and Al swipes it with greedy hands, peering down at the contents.
"Ahhh…. Hot Onion rings. You must really need some information to have bought me onion rings." Al laughs, a sickly sound of phlegm and bad air.
"Yes, regarding the newest thief on the scene, the one who hit the Jewel sale last night." Kincade says, putting his hands on his hips. Al takes a greasy onion ring and pops it into his mouth, chewing loudly before answering
"Ah yes, the upstart. Remember old Morgan? He's the one who trained this boy." I blink at that, knowing Randy Morgan retrieval specialist extraordinaire went off the IYS radar a little over two years ago. Two years is still too short of a time for this kid to be that skilled in the ways of stealing.
"Hmm… Morgan always does train them nicely, but from what I've been told this kid has some talents of his own, what are they Al?" Kincade asks as another onion ring is plucked from inside the bag.
"A brawler from what I know, skilled in the ways of hand to hand and knife. Been here before, did that job back in the winter with the statue over at the museum." Al says slowly, swallowing his food.
"The Egyptian one? He stole that?" Kincade asks, a bit of amazement leaking into his voice. I roll my eyes, that case had been given to Sterling to figure out and catch the thief, needless to say the little fool hadn't managed to apprehend our jewel thief.
"We need a name Al." Kincade suddenly presses and I watch as the vagabond thinks about this for a moment and finally relents
"Since you asked nicely Thomas. I will tell you what I know." He says, placing the brown bag beside him and wiping his greasy fingers on his already too dirty pants.
"Eliot Spencer is what he goes by, pretty studious for a common retrieval specialist. From what I've been told he's a private contract only, pretty pricy too but willing to do just about anything. Something wrong with him though, my sources tell me he's got some kind of record with the head hunters, not sure what exactly." I sigh and look at Kincade who shakes his head, I remember to write 'possible psychopath' in the file when we get back to the car.
"Anything else?" Kincade asks and Al only nods
"Oh yes. I haven't seen the kid, but from what I've been hearing he has eyes like a Siberian devil, icy blue and filled with malice. Also, the job he pulled last night the drop and exchange is supposed to happen tonight down at the warehouses. That's all I know, so, good day gentlemen." Al says and effectively gathers up his 'donations', guitar and food and walks away, heading for a new area. I look at Kincade who runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh.
"Alright, back to the office. Let's see what Bryon can dig up on this guy and then head down to the docks, see if we can get our merchandise back." I nod and fall into step beside the older man.
Author Note: Alimony Al is based off a real person I knew as a kid. I tried to figure out a good name for an informant and this one popped into my head. Anyways, please review and I will update again soon! Thanks!