Eleanor

Valentines Day
8.30PM

Eleanor pushed her body against the door as she twisted the key, "Al I'm-"
She stopped mid sentence as she realized that the shower was running in the master en-suite, Alberto wouldn't hear her from the kitchen. The door snapped in the otherwise silent penthouse suite as she shut it softly behind her.
Eleanor's ankle boots clicked off the tiles as she paced towards the kitchen counter, slipping a hand around her grip on her bag to pick up the note sitting on the marble surface.

"In shower. Hope you don't mind its without you-" Eleanor laughed down at the paper. It wasn't even a funny joke, it probably wasn't a joke. But Alberto would always make her smile, "-Dinner is at 9, try not to take too long. Happy Valentines day Beautiful."

Her grin faded as her eyes drifted upwards to the clock sitting on the wall. She was late. They were going out to one of the Falcone family restaurants in half an hour. Eleanor groaned, frowning as she raked her fingers through her hair at the thoughts of all the things she had to do. She wouldn't have time to wash her hair or contour her face to perfection-

She sighed, allowing her hand to slide down her neck and over the small silver chain, a gift from Alberto. Her eyes drifted across the room, thinking of Al in the shower, she should join him. She smiled to herself, lost in thought before shaking herself out of it and wiping her face with her hands to wake herself up.
The penthouse was open plan with an adjoining kitchen/living room, but as of now only the kitchen was lit. The living room space was in darkness, not even leaving the outlines of furniture visible.
She stared into the dark, a sense of discomfort settling slowly in. It was stupid, this was her and Alberto's home, she was safe here. Was she really scared unnerved by the dark. That nagging feeling was the hunger, she was positive. Eleanor subconsciously scratched the edge of her wrist, dragging her gaze away from the dark of the living room and to the bedroom door. Maybe she would join him. She left the kitchen with the note still in her hand.

Alberto
10 minutes earlier

He didn't hear or see them coming, nor did he know how they had gotten in. Alberto had switched the shower on to let the hot water run and then went back into the bedroom to undress. But one of them hit him a blow to his stomach, causing him to lurch forward as the barrel of a gun was shoved against his temple and he was dragged into the living room.

Two wore makeshift masks, material pulled disturbingly over their heads. Alberto wasn't worried about them, they looked like your average lowlife criminals. He could bribe them with money in exchange for his safety.

But the other was different. He wore no mask, his face bare and unapologetic. Scars slashed along the sides of his mouth like a smile, the Glasgow smile exposed as he grinned down at him and Alberto doubled over after another hit. He wore a dirty old fading suit, black leather gloves on his hands.
This one might just be crazy, and there was no reasoning with crazy.

The man surveyed the suite, drinking in all the details and occasionally glancing towards a cowering Alberto slumped on a chair with a gun to his head. He slipped something into his pocket as he chewed on the inside of his cheeks, eyes darting from one of Al's to the other.

"Sorry to crash your little, bachelor pad without invitation-" He finally spoke, his voice high and nasally, "I would've called-" He was tall, standing at probably above 6ft but he was hunched over, his curved shoulders concealing his true height "-but I always find face to face to be a little more... productive, hm?"

Alberto didn't answer, his hands gripping the arms of the chair to stop them shaking.

"And You, Berty boy," He pointed at him, edging closer, "-you're a hard guy to come by..." The man remained silent for a moment, watching Alberto try his hardest to avoid eye contact, "But I've got a bone to pick with you-" His head tilted as he waited for a response. Alberto lifted his gaze slowly, swallowing, "I have money-"

The man shook his head, disappointed, "I'm not hereeee for you money-" He grabbed his neck, the click of the switchblade so fast Alberto could barely comprehend it before the metal pressed against his throat, "What I want is something much. More. Valuable."
His voice deepened, threatening and terrifying, "I want a technician," His head bobbed from side to side, thinking of other ways to put it, "-someone who can hack a little system, a computer arc-hi-tect-ah."
The blade tapped against his skin, "See I've got big plans for this city, and word on the streets is you're the guy who can hook me up."

"I don't know-" Alberto's meek attempt was silenced by the blade pushing further into his neck.
"Listen Meatballs-"

The shuffling of keys interrupted the interrogation and all four men turned their heads towards the door. In one quick, swift movement the man slid his blade away from Alberto and nimbly moved to the light switch on the wall. He dipped back to Alberto, clamping a hand roughly over his mouth, silencing him in the now darkness as they looked towards the illuminated kitchen and the figure opening the door.

The man's grip tightened over his mouth at the sight of the Eleanor. The introduction of a loved one made things infinitely more complicated.

She had a small figure, but her voice confident as she called out. She looked tired, like she'd had a long day, her brown hair falling over her shoulders in light, slightly messy waves. Her face was bright from the rush she'd been in to try and not be late, but her eyes had dark, fatigued shadows under them, ones in which she planned to cover with concealer as soon as possible. She was still beautiful, her high cheekbones and plump little lips emphasized by the harsh light of the kitchen. But a overworked beautiful, worn out in need of a sleep kinda beautiful.

Alberto watched her like a hawk as she read the note. She leaned on one leg, crossing the other casually as she smiled to herself. His eyes followed the movement of her hand as it traveled through her hair and ran down her neck. He wanted her to leave, he didn't need her here.

He could hear the mans sharp and hollow breaths beside him as Alberto presumed he too, was staring at Eleanor. He wondered for a moment, why he chose to turn off the lights, or why he hadn't jumped out at Eleanor already. He was probably transfixed, or maybe he just couldn't believe his luck. It would have seemed so perfect, if Falcone wasn't going to talk before, he would now.

Eleanor seemed to be staring right at him, her eyes deep in thought. He had told her before that he loved the way she frowned, that the way she would look at a computer screen, frowning at a problem she occurred, was one of the sexiest things he'd even seen a woman do.
Now he hated it. He wanted to slap it off her captivating little face.

"Women complicate things. Don't let 'em get involved in your work. We don't mix business with pleasure remember-"

His fathers voice echoed in his head as Eleanor finally looked away from his direction. He hadn't adopted his fathers advice, in fact he'd opposed it. And in that terrible moment he realized that he didn't want someone else to take care of.
His father was right, women do complicate things. Alberto was smitten, he loved her lips, her slim legs, her tight little waist-
But he was not in love with Eleanor Tyrell.

Convenience and practicability had drawn them together, he thought as he watched her leave.
She provided him with a substantial income, a great sex life, intelligent conversation and made for an impressive dinner partner. And that, he feared, was not enough.

It was quiet for a moment before the bedroom door shut and the voice beside him let out a low whistle, "...ahhh, that's a traffic stopper you've got there Al-" His suppressed a dark laugh beside him in the darkness, "And, ah, tell me- Does, does she know? Hm? About the things you get up to in your spare time? Or is this a Bonnie and Clyde type deal?"

He nudged one of the men who then switched the light back on, "Either way...- she's one hell of a looker. And I'd love to just get her out here and talk things over, get to know her. She looks like an interesting gal-"
He looked to Alberto as if expecting an opinion despite the fact his mouth was clamped by his hand, "-or maybe we wont talk." He looked upwards as if imagining the possibilities, "Maybe, we'll do things. Or ahh, I'll do just do things to her. Hm? And you can sit and watch. Maybe then, Al, you'll remember those names for me."

The man spoke without his eyes leaving Alberto's, "Get the girl."

Eleanor

She dropped her bag onto the bed, fighting the urge to collapse on top of it as well. Maybe she could call it a nightt. Then she could get into the shower with Al, and after she could sleep. Sleep, oh how she longed for it, beautiful, blissful sleep.
Eleanor slipped her jacket off her shoulders, trying to think of what she could wear to this dinner. Her new red dress, Alberto loved it when she wore red.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror and she paused to tilt her chin up and around. She looked terrible, like she'd just ran a marathon in a hurricane. Eleanor reached for a hair brush, her hand stopping mid air as she noticed something odd.
The nightstand by the bed was jolted out at a weird angle, on the ground in front of it lay an empty glass along with a book. They seemed to have fallen off the stand.

Things were never left on the floor here. Alberto Falcone was a perfectionist, a neat freak. He hated things out of place, or where they didn't belong. There's no way he'd leave the glass or the book thrown on the ground like that. Eleanor looked down at the floor, different thoughts running through her mind, her face puzzled. She turned on the spot to call him in the shower to come face to face with the barrel of a gun.

She stared down at the weapon, her voice and body freezing. It was pointed at her face, right between her eyes, but she wasn't dead. Whoever this was, they didn't come here for her life. They weren't here because they were payed to blow her brains out, they wanted something. She thought of the similar gun hidden under the bed, but it was no use, just ask them;

"What do you want-"

The guns aim lowered to her heart, the enforcer watching her face for a moment, "Out you go Princess."

Eleanor glanced up at his masked face, inhaling through her mouth as she stepped shakily to the side and forward, the gun following her every movement. Maybe this was a hostage situation, oh dear God she hoped not. She was no stranger to violence, although she had tried to stray away from that aspect of the mob as much as possible.
Eleanor didn't discuss dealings that didn't involve computers with Alberto because she didn't want to get involved, partly because she slept better not knowing.

Part of her wanted to run, or to struggle and put up a fight. But Eleanor was so inexperienced, she had no chance. She knew vaguely how to yield a gun, but nothing about unarmed combat or dodging bullets at short range.
She could call out to Alberto. He was in the shower but maybe he could make it out in time before they took her, which is what she presumed was going to happen. Eleanor could buy him some time by kicking and screaming, the guy holding the gun wouldn't shoot her or he would've done so already, right? The gun was a threat but an empty one-

Eleanor turned towards the bathroom, screaming, "Hel-!" A hand grabbed her from behind, silencing her voice and muffling her cry. Another arm collapsed across her chest, pinning her shoulders back, "Shut your trap, Sweetcheeks."

He pulled her into the kitchen, "No ones coming to save you, your boyfriends already here-"

Eleanor's eyes widened, expressing a thousand horrified thoughts as the scene unfolded in front of her. Alberto sat an an armchair, staring submissively ahead, not even bothering to look up at her as she was lugged into his view. Two other men stood over him, one with a mask, the other without. The former held a gun to Alberto's head, the other stood with his back to her, fiddling with something in his hands.
Eleanor was shoved closer to him now, she could see his calm breaths. Why was he so calm, she was freaking out, this was not right.

She stared at Alberto, pleading with her eyes, willing for him to look at her and offer some sort of explanation. Look at me, look at me, look at me-

Someone answered her thoughts. But it wasn't Alberto.
The unmasked man looked at her over his shoulder, then doing a double take as if surprised to see her, turned his fully body around.

Eleanor peeled her eyes grudgingly away from her boyfriend and up to the mans face, immediately hit by his startling gaze, staring right into her soul. His eyes were brown, but very, very dark. Almost black.

He would look at her big, blue eyes and see fear, regret, sadness, terror.
And she would look into his and see... nothing. A dark abyss, two gaping black holes of pure nightmare fuel, judging your every movement, your every breath. She could see the scars on his mouth, but her eyes were straining as she tried not to think of them and look down. So instead she focused on his eyes, his terrifying, analyzing eyes-

Yet as soon as he he laid her eyes on her, he looked away, flooding momentary relief over Eleanor. It was short lived however, as a glint of light below her gaze confirmed a terrible speculation. He was holding a knife.
Eleanor struggled, eyes widening. Her palms were so sweaty, shorter bits of hair falling in wisps around her terrified face. What was this? He was going to hurt her. He was going to kill her. She was dead. Dead meat.

The man bent down so that he was level with Alberto, his elbow cocked on his knee as he leaned in towards him. He spoke into his ear, quietly so that no one else could hear, the switchblade tapping restlessly in his hand.
For a split second she saw Al's eyes move upwards to her while he listened, then returning to the floor, his face cold. After a moment the man pulled away, staring into Alberto's face, then slowly rising, eyes panning over to Eleanor.

Deep breaths.
But she couldn't even breath properly with this confining hand over her mouth. The guy wasn't even looking at her face, he didn't care about her. Whatever this was, it wasn't about Eleanor. This had everything to do with Al, and she was just a way to hurt him, or to get him to talk.
He was looking under her face, at the collar of her dress. The knife was tilting this way and that in his hand, working out angles as his eyes ran over her neck.
Eleanor tried to shake her head but was restrained by a tight grip. Her eyes clamped shut, a cry suppressed by the hand-

"Its her."

Eleanor's eyes opened. The man in front of her paused mid-step. Al had spoken, his gaze still on the ground.

"She does it all. All of it."

All of what?

"That's the only name I can give you, cause she's the only one."

She saw the scarred man shift slightly towards Al, apparently confused. His eyes narrowed as he turned fully, "... what?"

"Its her." Al repeated, louder this time, "There are others, but they're rookies. She can do it all."

"Her?" The guys arm lifted to point the knife at a stunned Eleanor, his head turning soon after to look at her, "You?"

What the hell was going on?

He advanced on her and the hand over her mouth was removed.

"You his programmer?"

Shit.

Eleanor froze, her mouth tensing slightly. Her hesitation was enough to give him the answer he needed.
It didn't matter what she was going to say as a reply, her reaction gave her away. He'd caught her by utter surprise and she had been found out by the tiny flutter in her facial expression.

His mouth broke into a terrible smile, stretching the skin along his scars, eyes glinting with something terrible, "Well...- that changes things."

Reviews much appreciated :)