A Broken Man.
Summary. . . . . . . . . How do you break a man, when pain is an everyday occurrence and can be controlled? Eliot and the team are about to find out, when an easy con turns out to be anything but.
Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Not mine, no money is being made; I'm just testing the waters of a new fandom.
A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Sorry about the wait, I've been job hunting so you can imagine my mind has been elsewhere this week. Here's chapter 11, I hope the content makes up for the wait? Catch you soon, Peanut x
Damn it! Nate thought to himself, his mind already whirling as he tried to come up with a new plan, as the one they were currently working fell down around him. He should have known better; should have known that Ducovich was smarter than they had thought; should have known he would have seen through their con; he had after all seen through the first one, and Eliot had paid a very high price for it. Now it seemed they were the ones about to pay. It had been simple, the simplest con he had ever heard of. So simple, he had figured Ducovich wouldn't even have looked for it, that they could have just flown in under the radar, plant the seeds, retreat, and watch from afar as his empire collapsed around him. He should have known better.
It had started off well, Hardison and Sophie had met with Ducovich's men, playing their roles of African warlord and the mediator brought in to help him acquire new weapons and technology, with just the right amount of flair and passion. Nate should have known it went too well. Even when Parker had reported in the ease in which she had rappelled down to, and entered Ducovich's office, Nate had thought little of it. Sure it had briefly flittered through his mind, that things were going too easy, but then Ducovich had shown up for the meeting with Sophie and Hardison, and his mind had pushed aside his concerns and focused instead on the con. Now though as the barrel of a gun was pushed harshly into his ribs, he wished he had listened.
He rearranged his game face as he was urged closer to a door, tried to look calm and cool as he was pushed roughly inside the room, his feet catching one another and sending him sprawling to the floor; but inside his mind was spinning, trying to come up with a way out of this, and his guts were churning with panic. It wasn't just his life at stake, it was Hardison's, and Parker's, and Sophie's, and god could it be possible, Eliot's too. Had Ducovich known all along? Had he known where Eliot was? Had he known that they were a team, and would try and seek revenge, justice for the things that had been inflicted upon their colleague, their friend? As he looked past their handcuffed hands and the guns trained upon them, looked past the frightened eyes of Hardison, and the concerned eyes of Sophie, and the angered eyes of Parker, and into the cold and clinical orbs of Peter Ducovich, Nate knew his conclusion was right; they had been played at their own game, and they had met their match.
He watched as Ducovich spoke in Croatian to his underlings, "ići sada, ići dobiti ga, ga dovesti ovdje, tako da možemo igrati još jednom." Three of them rushing from the room, leaving only the one guarding him and the one whose gun was trained on the others. A quick look Sophie's way told him all he needed to know, as she mouthed the word Eliot. They had gone for their unprotected hitter. He tried not to think about it though as words echoed around the room.
"Mr. Ford, so nice of you to join us." Ducovich spoke again, as Nate clambered back to his feet. "I figured at some point you would try to bring me down, I must admit seeing how I left poor Eliot, I thought it would have taken you longer, he was after all in such a mess when I gave him back to you. How is my friend Eliot doing now? Better I hope?"
Hardison stepped in front of Parker as Ducovich bragged and taunted, his movements almost looking like he was dancing with her, as she tried to get around him, and ranted on about "throwing things off rather tall buildings, and hoping they squished when they landed," but it was Nate that finally answered, as he calmly took a seat in front of Ducovich's impressive desk. "He's doing great. He'll be back to his normal self in no time."
"Ah. . . . . . . . .I believe you are now lying to me Mr. Ford, something which I know you to be proficient at. You see I know Eliot, probably better than anyone else do I know him, and I know his weaknesses, I know the chinks in his armor, I know the best way to break him. I have after all explored them before." Ducovich stopped as he spoke his last words, and turned back from where he had been pouring himself a drink, wanting to see the reaction to them, in the mastermind's eyes. He was not disappointed, as Nate's carefully placed mask slipped for just a second, as he figured out just what his words implied. He savored the moment and emptied his glass, refilling it once more before adding.
"Oh, it's been a long, long time since I last delved down there, but you should know Eliot, you chased him long enough, how do you think I got him to work for me in the first place, Mr. Ford? He had, as you westerners put it, become a loner by then. Oh I asked, and I offered rich rewards, but he always refused, always swore he was done. I wanted the best and he was it, but Eliot had changed somewhat, working for that idiot Moreau had broken something inside of him, and I didn't want a broken Hitter, I wanted the blood thirsty bastard I knew he could be. So I set about retrieving it, and if you know anything about me Mr. Ford, as I'm sure Mr. Hardison has told you, I always get what I want. A slipped drug into a drink here, and Eliot was putty within my hands, waiting to be molded back into what God created him for. It was all too easy really; he really was less suspicious at that time. It was a pure work of art, and by the time I had finished, he never even had a clue what I had done, never even had a clue where he had been, or who he had been with. So you see I've done it before, and I'm about to do it again, but this time he'll know it was me, and maybe this time I might get bored, maybe this time I will end it for once and for all."
"Eliot will kill you, he's better than you, he's stronger than you, he'll rip you to pieces." Parker's tear filled voice cried out.
"I fear not Miss. Parker. You see I really do know Eliot, and I really do know he won't be back to normal for a very long time."
Everybody in the room turned, a gasp falling from Sophie's lips, as another voice entered the picture. A voice they all knew. A voice that was even lower and huskier than usual, but still deadly, and laced with a rage the Leverage team had never, ever heard before, no matter what or who they had dealt with. "I wouldn't be so sure of that!" Eliot spoke, his body framed in the doorway looking tired and weak, yet strong and determined, a gun held steady within each hand, the ominous clunk click of rounds being chambered echoing around the room before a silence descended. He watched with feral eyes, waiting for the twitch that would signal the beginning of the end, one shot ringing out from both his barrels once he witnessed the nervous twitch, before both swung up to rest upon Ducovich.
A.N. . . . . . . . . . Okay, so I have to apologize, firstly for leaving it there, but it really is the ideal place to stop for now, you'll get Eliot's side next chapter; and secondly for the con. I tried, I really did, to come up with something, but I couldn't do it, so I did what I did. I hope it worked? Be back soon with more. Peanut x
Oh and the Croatian should translate to "go now, go get him, bring him here so we can play once more." If not blame stars21.