SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG but this is moment you've all been waiting for. This is the Eliot/Parker ending. Remember to tell me what you loved, what you hated, what I should write next, and if I should give up on the pen forever…nah. But for real, leave some comments. Love you guys :)
"Good-morning, Eliot," chirped the ever-mysterious, female captor.
He sat, dormant.
"Why don't we go for a walk?"
The hitter waited for his guards to unlock his door and reluctantly followed the woman. Six others escorted them. They knew from previous experiences that they could stay behind him, but only at a distance.
"It's been so long since you've seen your friend, why don't we pay them a visit?"
Eliot remained stone-faced. Ever since they injected him with the truth serum, he'd taken a vow of silence. Though it was hard especially when they induced him with a concoction that amplified pain making even the smallest amount of contact unbearable. The eight trooped down the brightly-lit tiled hallways. Within a few minutes, she stopped at a door.
Cheerfully she opened it and said: "First stop Hardison!"
Refusing to react, the hitter stepped through the portal and glanced around. During his subtle, routine check for exits, he saw his best friend strapped to a standing, steel platform. A guard next to him punched the hacker repeatedly. Bewildered, the hitter heard his voice pouring out of a speaker near the hacker.
"How does it feel, Hardison? I'm going to kill you! Do you hear me?" his voice, slightly "glitchy," said at intervals.
"Our brilliant scientists put Hardison in a trance and made his brain extremely prone to suggestion. All we have to do is play certain sounds and he dreams about it," explained the brunette.
She glanced at his face in hope for some reaction but she received none. Pursing her lips, she snapped at one of the guards and whispered something in his ear. Eliot couldn't tear his eyes away from his whimpering friend. If he woke up, would he be terrified of the hitter? Did he genuinely believe Eliot was the one hurting him?
"Hello in there, Eliot!" the woman interrupted his thoughts. "Someone's going to be joining us on our tour!"
The door they entered through was opened and in-stepped a drunk-looking Nate. He was wearing the same clothes he was abducted in but his eyes had changed. They'd lost their familiar intensity and confidence; now they contained a feeling of utter hopelessness. His eyes refreshed the hitter's feeling of dread.
The mastermind eyed Eliot and gave him a nod; nothing from his past was being held against him.
"Yeah, so, why are we here?" questioned Nate.
"So inquisitive, I like that," the woman chitered. "You're here to accompany Eliot. Which reminds me," she turned to the hitter, "you still haven't confessed."
He shifted his weight and merely raised an eyebrow.
"Fine, if that's how you're going to be."
The brunette took a gun from one of Nate's escorts and pointed it at Hardison.
"Last chance, Eliot, just admit you're a miserable whelp clinging to his pathetic, remaining shred of dignity. Admit that you're broken.
"Look-" the hitter croaked due to days of neglect.
"Wrong answer."
There was a loud BANG! and Hardison slumped, blood running from his face.
"You bastard," whispered Nate. "You killed him."
"No, Eliot did."
A sob threatened to clog the hitter's throat but was soon replaced by a burning rage as the woman sized him up. He stared defiantly into her eyes. If looks could kill, their would've been two bodies in that room.
"Moving on," she turned on her heel and the guards around Eliot tensed, waiting for him to pounce. He didn't; it wasn't time.
Reluctantly the hitter and mastermind followed the psychopath through the door whence they came. To keep himself from snapping the bobbing neck in front of him, Eliot dug his wrists in his handcuffs. The pain helped him focus.
"Here we are!"
Another suited guard at the entrance opened the door for the party.
"Is this…?" Nate rasped, unable to complete his sentence.
"Yes, Nathan, our next visit is to Sophie Ford," grinned their sadistic guide.
"Nate? Oh, darling, is that you?" Sophie cried once they entered.
"Sophie."
The grifter rose from her cot and ran, arms outstretched, to her husband. For a moment they were the only two people that had ever existed. Eyes locked and full of love, the scene was enough to bring even someone like Eliot to tears. It might've too, except their reunion was interrupted by a harsh, all-too-familiar boom of a gunshot.
Within a split second, the beautiful, caring, compassionate, stubborn, tough, Sophie was a lifeless rag doll at Nate's feet.
The mastermind dropped to his knees, clutching his wife. Rivers poured down his face and fell on her unmoving one. Eliot, still in shock, could only stare. Sophie never got hurt, so how could she be dead? Suddenly, a horrible, evil sound filled the air. The grifter's murderer was laughing.
"You should see the look on your face!" she cackled.
"WHY?" Nate screamed, his voice dripping with anguish. "WHY? WHY? WHY? She did nothing to you!"
"Did I miss the excitement?" a new voice asked.
"Nothing much," replied the nameless brunette.
"Nothing much," the mastermind repeated in a whisper.
Eliot turned around to see Moreau himself.
"Does he know yet?" Damien questioned, gesturing toward the hitter.
"Saved the best for you."
This statement pulled Nate out of his sorrowful trance. He gave Eliot a look the hitter didn't understand.
"So, Eliot, I still never got an answer; what's the nature of your relationship with Parker?"
"What's it to you, Moreau?" spat the hitter.
"Is she exclusive to you or anyone's game?"
Eliot gritted his teeth, "If you touch her Moreau, I swear to god-"
He chortled, "It's a little late for that, Eliot. That girl is something." He waited for that to sink in and smiled maliciously when the hitter comprehended the full sincerity of his words. "That's right, I beat you to it. I got myself a slice of that-"
Moreau was interrupted by an ear-shattering roar of pure fury. All six of Eliot's escorts and Nate's two guards rushed to defend Damien from the hitter's wrath; even then, nothing in the world could've stopped him. Within moments, Eliot was upon the man, beating him repeatedly. Every punch was accompanied by a sickening crack and a splatter of blood.
The room fell still.
"That was for Parker, you son of a bitch!" the hitter screamed as the guards finally yanked him off.
"Damien!" the brunette wailed. She held the wheezing man in her arms.
"Cassandra," he coughed right before he died.
"Bastard! You killed my brother! Throw him in the incinerator!"
Nate's guards dragged the mastermind away. Seeing the sudden guilt in Eliot's eyes, he yelled: "I died for Parker! For Sophie! For Hardison! For my family!"
Taking a breath and wiping tears from her face, she stood up and ordered for her brother to be taken away. Meanwhile, she led the hitter out of the room.
"So, your name's Cassandra, huh?" inquired Eliot bitterly as he followed her down the halls. He couldn't miss the opportunity to rub salt in the wound of Sophie and Hardison's murderer. "I've met a few Cassandra's, they were all prettier than you. You know what's so funny? I distinctly remember you promising me I would cry like a baby; looks like you beat me to it."
He received no reply.
"Hmm, not in a talkative mood. This is a first. Hey, I get it, it's hard losing someone you love even if he's a psychotic coward."
Cassandra stiffened at that.
"That's right, coward. We sent Moreau crawling back to his little island with his tail between his legs then we followed him and cut the damn thing off. The only reason we're here is so he could feel in control again. He tried to take control of the people who humiliated him and ended up dead."
She whirled around in front of a door, "You know, you talk pretty big for a person who's been tortured for the past few weeks and is responsible for the death of half his so called 'family.'"
"Yeah but they died with honor and, they're not following Moreau to the hell he's going to."
"Well then you can say hello to him when you see him. In the meantime, say hello to Parker."