The Second Spencer
Chapter 12
(The Day of Eliot's Disappearance)
Nate gulped down the last of his drink and put the glass down harshly. It had been a very long couple of days, what with the con, Eliot's behavior, and the reason for his actions. And Nate was going to help Eliot, whether the man liked it or not.
Nate glanced at his watch. It was 7:40 AM. Eliot should have been there by now… He shook off his immediate concern, thinking he was probably stuck in traffic or some other excuse. 'In the next few minutes, he should be getting here…' Nate thought, all worries pushed to the side.
Sophie, Parker, and Hardison soon arrived. None of them failed to ask where Eliot was, and Nate could only shrug. Hardison had gotten on the computer, typing away for an unknown reason. After a few minutes of them being there, the painful silence was broken.
"His com is off." Hardison finally concluded, "I'll call him." He pushed a single button on his phone, "Speed dial," he explained. It rung twice but went to a generic voicemail.
"He usually answers between the fourth and fifth rings…" Sophie thought aloud. "Do you think he's alright?"
"He's Eliot," Parker said incredulously, "Of course he's alright. He's, like, immortal."
"He is most certainly not," Sophie muttered.
"We need to find him. Now," Nate commanded.
"I could track his phone," Hardison dragged his chair closer to the table and began pressing buttons on the touch-screen.
"Nate, why did you want us here anyway? The con is finished, right?" Sophie asked.
"We were going to help… We were going to take down Jack Nellis," Nate said, staring off into the distance. He rose, grabbing his glass and going to grab a drink. He was going to need one.
LEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGE
Eliot tried to open his eyes, but it was like they were tied down by a ton of bricks. With much effort, he pried them open. He was in the back of a moving van.
He tried to lift his arm in an attempt to sooth his aching head, but it refused to move. He tried to move the other but came up with the same results. He looked down to find that he was bound tightly to a swivel chair, his arms tied around the back. He began to struggle.
"It won't work," A dumb voice said, "you drugged." Eliot's vision focused on a buff giant of a man. "Yes. It's Harry," the man said.
Eliot vaguely remembered him. He had been one of only a handful of unsuccessful hits. And that was only because there were too many people around that would have been endangered. It was more towards the beginning of his freelancing.
"You're… still as stupid… as I remember…" Eliot found it strangely hard to speak. His words came between breaths, stammered and ragged.
However, Harry didn't like the insult. He punched Eliot right in his gut. But he did it right and Eliot's drugged-up body doubled over (as best as it could tied up) and he fought for breath.
"Harry's not stupid!" He yelled in Eliot's ear. His voice dropped dangerously low, "Soon, you're not gonna say anything, 'cuz I'll rip your throat out."
"Well… then I should talk… while I still can…" Eliot retorted, his strength slowly returning.
The next thing he knew, the chair flew back and he landed on his hands painfully. He heard a crack and knew it was his fingers breaking. He growled out slightly in pain. Harry laughed and Eliot knew it would be a long drive.
LEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGE
Hardison's search came up with almost nothing. The location was first at an old gas station, but as soon as they were about to make their plan, it changed. Now it was at an old diner. Then it became a dump. All of this happened in seconds and continued to change. Hardison had almost spit out the orange soda he had previously drunk victoriously. He'd been played. In a small scale, but it still did enough damage to his pride. He rubbed his scalp, then, suddenly focused, dived towards the table and got working again while the team watched in confusion.
Parker did not like it. She didn't like how Eliot had disappeared, and she didn't like how Hardison was tricked like that. Hardison!
She felt like running. She needed to get away and protect herself from feeling. But another part of her didn't want to. No matter what, she wouldn't leave. She couldn't. Especially when Eliot, who was always there when the team needed him, now needed them. Needed her.
After deciding Hardison would take a while, she went to get her harness so she could jump from the banister. The banister on the nice, high ceiling that she loved so much.
Just to do something- anything- to get her mind off of Eliot and how it really effected her that he wasn't there.
LEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGELEVERAGE
Eliot spent the rest of the ride with his fingers smashing under the chair on every bump. They went numb after a while, but his head was being uncontrollably flung around.
Soon the car stopped, but being disoriented, Eliot couldn't tell which way they were headed.
The back door of the van slid open and a face was soon floating above Eliot's. It belonged to none other than Jack Nellis.
"Oh, did you give Harry a hard time?" Jack said after assessing Eliot's position on the floor. "That's quite rude, you know," He snapped and Eliot's chair lifted. His body felt immediate relief. "Oof. Those fingers look broken." Jack looked Eliot up and down. "My gosh you've gotten fat."
Eliot scowled at him, doing 'that thing with his eyes that scares people'. Fear flashed momentarily across Jack's eyes but he quickly smirked.
"Nice try. But it's going to take a lot more that a stupid glare to get you out of this. Probably an army, but I doubt anyone cares about you that much." Jack pulled out a syringe and vile, and filled the syringe. "This is just to make the trip inside easier." He addressed his men and said, "Get him in a wheelchair when he's out."
Jack inserted the needle into Eliot's arm. He was doing his best to get away, but the ropes made it very hard. Plus, he was drugged and injured, so he let himself slip away into blackness until it consumed him.
