Chapter 5

A wall of screens came to life, scattering pictures of young children, chemical labs, and files depicting lawsuits for medical misconduct. In the middle was a man in his mid 30's, blonde hair, brown eyes, and brimming with smug cockiness. The mere sight of him put the team's teeth on edge.

"Our target is Thomas Jakes." The hacker guided their eyes to the centre image. "He owns Innovation Pharmaceuticals. A drug company who recently ran a trial, testing their new allergy medication aimed directly at children. Parents of said children have tried suing the company after their children all started suffering from liver failure." With a few swipes on a tablet, the screen brought forward the documentation showing the lawsuits. "However, Mr Jakes says there was no trial and has buried any evidence that there was one." She turned from the display and leant on the table in front of her, looking deep into her teammate's eyes.

"So," it was Sophie's turn to speak. "Our job is simple. Break into their offices and steal the evidence needed to win the lawsuits." She smiled at her friends knowing this was a walk in the park for this group. "Me and Harry will distract Mr Jakes, while Parker gets the evidence." A curt nod from the thief shows her understanding. "Briana and Eliot will be nearby in the food truck, keeping an eye on things."

"Woah, hold up." the hitter interrupted. "Why am I in the van." He looked around to see if his friends were as equally confused. "Surely I should be with Parker in case she runs into trouble."

"No Eliot that won't be necessary. The company has barely any security, she'll be in and out in no time." She gave him the most sickly-sweet smile the grifter could muster.

"Still, it doesn't make sense me being in the van. I'm no use to anyone there."

"You can keep me company. The van gets lonely sometimes." Briana smiled apologetically.

That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted to do a job so things could start going back to normal, but here they are giving him worse than light duties, no duties at all. He couldn't believe they still didn't trust him. He could rescue team members after being hit by a car just fine, but being there just in case when he's in a bad mood, is no go, makes perfect sense. For years they followed the orders of a drunk workaholic mastermind, but trusting their hitter to do the minimum that his job requires because he has to take sleeping pills (like most of the god damn country) is too far. His arms folded across his chest as his face turned as far away from the others as possible. He stayed that way for the rest of the briefing, mumbling something about idiots who don't know when to keep their noses out.

"Everyone clear with the plan?" There was a symphony of agreement. "Eliot, you know what you're doing?" She turned to the one member of the group who hadn't answered her previous question.

"Yeah, not a damn thing by the sounds of it." He sulked off back to the bar, again mumbling, but this time about stupid team leaders who waste their assets.

Eliot was sat on the couch, nursing his second headache of the day. His eyes ached with the strain of staying open, it was as if some invisible force was pushing his eyelids down. He was trying to distract himself with some light reading, but the words kept on going out of focus. The constant moving of the letters on the page was starting to make him feel nauseous. Not to the point where the contents of his stomach were moving to his throat, just the feeling of rolling in his abdomen. He was about to give up when Briana and Parker bounced in.

"Good book El?" Parker yelled in her usual hyperactive manner. Ok, he might actually puke now, the ringing in his head made him feel like he was on one of those spinning rides.

"Uh, yeah... It's alright."

"Good." She landed hard in the seat next to him, sending a sudden shock wave up his aching body. "Are you still upset about our plan? We're not side-lining you... honest."

"It's fine Parker."

"It's just... We picked this one because we thought it would be easy, you know, something simple to get you back in the swing of things." He looked at her with a face of disgust. He could smell the pity coming off her and he hated it. Eliot Spencer does not need anyone's pity. "But when we started planning, we realised there wasn't much of a role for you. It was a little too easy a job."

"But that's ok. We can hang in the van. Maybe you can relax a bit, do some cooking, that always makes you happy." Great now Briana was pitying him.

"I said it was fine guys." All this useless chatter was starting to irritate him, and the rising blood pressure was only making his headache worse. He started to get up to leave when a hand on his arm pulled him back down. The sudden motion turned that unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach into full-on, panic-inducing, sickness. He needed to get out of there.

"Don't leave Sparky." He tried to swallow the rising bile down. "We wanna hang out with you. What book are you reading?"

"Parker." He growled jaw clenched, afraid that if he opened his mouth any further, he was going to lose his breakfast.

"Come on El," the hacker joined in. "We only hang when we're training now. How about a game of chess?"

"No." More growling, but with a barely detectable hint of fear.

"Why not Sparky? You've been such a grouch lately."

"Parker."

"She right. Just one game, what's the harm? You can't be in a bad mood forever."

"Yeah." Parker slapped her hand into the centre of the hitters back, sending a wave of nausea right to the top of his chest. His eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape route. His breathing stopped altogether as his tongue felt like it was swelling up inside his mouth. His rising heart rate only made the feeling worse as it quickly made it's way up, finding its way to an exit. Trying to save face, Eliot bit down on his lower lip and pushed his way past the blonde next to him. Grounding out a quick sentence as he stormed off.

"Just go away."

As soon as he was out sight, he ran into the bathroom and ejected the small amount of food that he had managed to force down that morning. Falling down next to the porcelain bowl, he leaned his back and head against the white tiled wall. The pain in his head was unbearable now, and he just wished it was over.

'Please, for God's sake, just go away. I'll do anything, just for one day without the constant pounding, nausea, and bloody shadows haunting my every moment, awake and asleep.' He brought his head forwards into his hands, but another spasm of pain tipped him over the edge as he began to ram his cranium into the wall behind him. 'Why? Why? Whhhyyy? I've had plenty of harrowing experiences, and I've been drugged with just about everything known to man. Why now does it have to affect me, when life was just starting to get good?' He held back tears of frustration, as his breathing start to hitch. The constant jerking of his chest as he tried to draw in a breath, started another round of sickness, though this time there was nothing to get rid of. Instead, he simply dry heaved into the toilet until he could get his breathing back under control.

The atmosphere in the van was extremely tense. Eliot's eyes were fixed on the live footage coming from several locations, targeting their team. He listened intensely on the fixer as he awkwardly attempted to distract their mark, only to be rescued by the grifter. The thief was in the CEO's office pulling multiple files, throwing them onto the desk in an almost manic display. The hacker was relaxing whilst keeping one eye on the outer building, and the other on the single hallway that led to the boss's private space. The hitter, however, was not relaxed. He was in fact vibrating with nervous energy, rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb as if it would ease out the tension.

They had been in there for seventeen minutes, and in those seventeen minutes, the room had risen by five degrees just from the hitter's kinetic energy alone. The hacker had to mute his com because he was muttering to himself. 'Harry's posture is wrong; the mark is going to walk... Sophie's being too obvious, he's getting suspicious... We should have put up more cameras on the outer building... Parker is being too loud; the room below will hear her...' Briana's eyes were tired from the lack of blinking she had noticed. She was ecstatic when the thief informed them, she was on her way out. She wasn't sure his paranoia could get any worse, until...

She had just turned Eliot's com back on in time for him to yell, "Parker Stop! Two guards are blocking your exit. Stay there until I've dealt with them."

They were your standard mall cop guards. Stocky, a bit of muscle but clearly no clue what to do with it. They both stood over six feet, which to most people Eliot's height, would be a problem. As he rounded the corner, he could see them idling around the door that Parker was meant to be leaving through. They hadn't noticed him yet because their back was to him, plus they were too distracted, talking about the 'hot weather girl on channel 6.' He took the first one down with a quick hit to the base of the skull with the side of his hand. This caught the second one's attention, who quickly reached to his hip drawing a small handgun. Within three seconds Eliot had grabbed his opponent, disarmed him, and dismantled the weapon. He then counted with a few quick punches to the nose. He was feeling good, confident, he even let the other guy get a few hits in to make things interesting. A right hook to the hitter's cheek and a left to his ribs. Laughing at the pitiful use of an opportunity, Eliot grabbed the other guy's head, slamming it into his knee.

He was chuckling to himself, so lost in the pleasant feeling that he didn't notice that the first guy had gotten up. Before he could respond the first guy had him trapped in a bear hug, lifting the hitter off the ground and arching his back. Panic started to set in, he couldn't see his attacker so his mind filled in the blanks with images of shadowy soldiers, surrounding him from all angles. He struggled kicking out at the enemies around him, not even focusing on the one real threat that had him in his grasp. With each kick, they disappeared, but the arms around him grew tighter. His chest was being crushed and he was finding it hard to breathe. He knew he had only twenty seconds to free himself before he passed out. The hitter twisted himself into a painful position, allowing him to pull one arm free. With his now free appendage, he shoved his elbow as hard as he could into the other guy's face. The shock of it caused guard number one to drop Eliot, giving the hitter enough time to swing himself around a place him in a chock hold.

By this point, Sophie and Harry had made it back to the van and were now watching the action unfold. Eliot was sat on the ground with the guard on top still detained in the hitter's arms. His breathing became laboured as his arms flailed about trying to pull at the limbs that were slowly suffocating him. The team watched on, sighing simultaneously in relief when the guard's body went limp. The relief was short-lived. Something was wrong, Eliot didn't let go. He wasn't trying to simply knock the guy out; he was going in for the kill.

"Eliot, he's out. Let go." Sophie spoke in a voice of pure panic. This was no act, this was real fear, pure terror. Eliot didn't answer, and as she looked at the man on the screen, she noticed his eyes were completely blank. "Eliot, please listen to me. You need to let go... Eliot." Still nothing, not even a flinch. Nothing was penetrating whatever fog he was in. Soon it would be too late, soon the man would be dead, soon...

A sudden bolt of electricity shot through every inch of the hitter body, causing him to drop the man in his arms. The pain pulsed through his bones as his breath stuttered. He wanted to collapse, fall on the floor, curl up until it was over. But he couldn't, he was in danger, his everything was catapulted into fight or flight mode. He pushed the body that was currently strewed over his legs onto the floor, and gradually stood up. The corps of a soldier stood quivering in front of him. He readied himself for a second attack, getting into a stance that the team was well aware of. Before he could move, another wave of electricity coursed through his veins. His knees buckled and his body caved forwards. His head, unfortunately, met with a metal barrier on the way down, knocking him unconscious within seconds.

Parker launched herself through the door after hearing Sophie's plea. She had to do something; she knew that Eliot would hate it if he killed someone. She saw her friend sitting on the ground, trembling. She tried to call out to him, but it was no use, he was completely switched off to the outside world. She decided that there was only one course of action. She removed the taser from her belt, closed her eyes, and pressed the trigger. When she opened her eyes, the guard was released and Eliot was just sitting there, twitching. She hesitated for a second, listening to Sophie's warnings not to touch him. After around fifteen seconds he began to get up. She was relieved and was about to make her approach when she noticed the distinctive fighting stance. Without hesitation, she shot him again, however, she was too slow to stop him from falling into the metal object she had failed to notice.

"Sophie, I need some help." Her breathing was fast and erratic. "He hit his head... I'm sorry El, I... I had to... You were going to kill him... Why did he do it? Soph, what was wrong with him?"

"I don't think he knew what he was doing," Harry answered as he and Briana ran over to them, Sophie was still sitting, unable to comprehend what just happened. "I think he was seeing something else. Trapped in a nightmare or past event... Were on our way, don't worry."

And he was true to his words because seconds later they were there and carrying their friend back to the van. They pulled his body into the rear end of the food truck as Briana jumped into the driver seat.

"Where am I taking us?"

"Give us a second, I need to assess the situation."

"Hurry Harry."

"Will do... Eliot can you hear me... El, I need you to wake up buddy."

"Anything?"

"Nothing... Wait! He's moving."

Eliot began to stir, twisting away from Harry, trying to push his probing hands away. "No... No... Get off of me." Harry turned to the others, silently questioning them with his eyes. "Please... I'm sorry... I said I'm sorry... Please." Each word got louder and more fearful. They knew that holding him down was fuelling the nightmare, but with his head injury and the close quarters, they had no choice. Harry, Parker and Sophie, who was now back to her senses, each took a section to hold down. "I SAID GET OFF OF ME, THAT'S AN ORDER DAMN IT... GET OFF... GET OFF... PLEASE, I'M SORRY I DIDN'T... I... I DIDN'T MEAN TO KILL YOU... PLEASE... I'M SORRY... JUST GET OFF OF ME!" He was struggling to draw in a single breath, and his whole body was thrashing from one side to the other. He was using all his strength to get free, managing to push Sophie and Harry off for a few brief seconds.

"Briana. Hospital. Now!"

"On it boss"

"Harry, Parker, hold him as tight as possible while I call his doctor to meet us there."

The pair nodded with uncertainty.

Briana hadn't even turned off the engine when Doctor Gregson and a team of nurses pulled open the van doors. Eliot was drenched in sweat, still unconscious, still fighting, and still screaming at dead enemies.

"Can we get some help out here? The stronger the better."

Two orderlies' ran up, well over six feet tall with arms like tanks, yet still, they looked scared. They nodded to each other, rolled their shoulders, and tensed their arms. When finally prepared, they dove into the van pulling the hitter onto a hospital bed, never once letting go.

"Nurse Kyle, please fetch some restraints." He spoke to a very young, sweet-looking girl next to him. "What happened exactly, before and after he fell unconscious?" He asked what he saw as the leader of the group, the one he had spoken to the most.

"He was..." She hesitated, she remembered that the doctor had told him no fighting. "He got into a fight with two men." She could see that the doctor was disappointed with that last statement. "He was fine, for the most part... But all of the sudden he was just... gone... He lost all control and..."

"You can speak freely here." They were now in a private examination room. The nurses had attached the restraints, and with a curt nod, Doctor Gregson had emptied the room of all other staff.

"He was going to kill one of them... That's when Parker tased him." The blonde looked incredibly guilty, not meeting anybody's eyes.

"What was he like when he was... taking the man down?"

"He was completely out of it. He didn't respond to anything I said, and his eyes were glazed over. Plus, when he saw Parker... well... we could tell he was about to attack her... that's when she tased him the second time."

"And that's when he got the head injury."

"Yes. Then in the va..."

"GET OFF... PLEASE, I'M SORRY... I'M SORRY!"

"Please doc, can you give him a sedative or something?" The lawyer stared at him, pleading for mercy.

"I'm sorry, but with a head injury, it's best that we don't sedate him. Hopefully, he will wake up on his own, and in a better state. You were saying."

"We got him to the van and he was quiet for about a minute, then... then... this, he started talking and then screaming, and he kept throwing us off of him."

The doctor made his way to the bed, eying the man with concern plastered all over his face. As he reached the hitter's side, the screaming stopped and his eyes shot open. He tried to pull himself up to sit, but the leather cuffs prevented him from moving. Upon realising this, he began to pull harder, his breath catching in his throat, and his heart pounding in his chest. The square monitor next to him started to bleep alarmingly fast.

"Eliot, calm down. Everything is fine, you're in the hospital. It's Dr Gregson, do you remember me?" He didn't settle, his heart continued to race at a dangerous speed. "Eliot, please listen to me. You are safe. What you saw wasn't real. You need to calm down... Please, Eliot, calm down."

The hitter calmed a little. He was still panicked, and his heart rate and blood pressure were still high, but it was better. "W... wh... where am I? W... what ha... happened?" He spoke through staggard breaths.

"You're in the hospital. I believe you were suffering from hallucinations... Calm down, everything is going to be ok." He gave a warm smile whilst placing an oxygen mask over his face. "Was this the first time?"

"N... N... No." He pulled the plastic mask down around his neck.

"Don't try to speak." The doctor replaced the mask. "Just nod, ok?" The hitter nodded in response.

"So, you've had offer visions?"

Nod.

"Before the sleep problems?"

Shake.

"After?"

Nod.

"Was this time worse?"

Nod.

"Before, could you tell that what you were seeing wasn't real?"

Nod.

"But this time you couldn't?"

Nod.

"Is what you're seeing, related to the nightmares?"

Nod.

"Ok. You're doing really well. I'm just going to speak to your friends. Try to stay calm for me."

Nod.

The doctor walked over to the small group of friends that had now huddled in the corner, eyes fixed on their inured party. He tried to project the same calming aura onto them, but nothing seemed to come of it.

"He's been seeing things?" The oldest woman spoke, a slight edge to her eyes demonstrating her annoyance.

"Yes. Not like he did today though. It seems that he was able to tell the difference before, but because of his heightened anxiety during the fight, it caused a much more severe illusion." He looked back over to the man in the bed, who was now curling into himself, breathing still too fast and unsteady. "Given the symptoms I already know, and this new evidence, I believe he is suffering from PTSD. Are you sure nothing happened to him before this all started?"

"PTSD in a bottle," Parker spoke. "But he was fine after that. We got it all out of his system."

"What?" The doctor looked at her as if she was speaking another language.

"He was drugged with something new. They called it 'Red Haze', said it was like PTSD in a bottle. But he was fine after that, a bit out of it, confused and sad maybe."

"Did he describe what happened when he was drugged?" He now looked completely disturbed. His eyebrows were pulled tight towards the centre, and his calming smile has been replaced by a worried line.

"He didn't say much. Just that it forced him to relive some old memories, and that it burned like his insides were on fire."

"Did he mention what memories, anything specific?"

"No, but I overheard something about... Operations Kansas."

The monitor on the other side of the room alerted them to the hitter's condition.

"No, no, no, please don't send me back. Please, anywhere but there." His eyes darted around the room, everywhere he looked he saw the dead coming back to collect a debt. Sweat poured off of him, the trembling rattled his bed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I didn't mean it. I don't remember what happened... please." He felt as though he was drowning, no air was reaching his lungs.

The doctor lunged forwards, retrieving a long needle from his pocket. He injected the contents of said needle into the hitters' arm.

"What was that?" The lawyer asked.

"A sedative."

"I thought you said..."

"At this point, I don't think I would be able to calm him down enough to perform my check-ups reliably."

"If this is PTSD. What do we do? Will he get better?" Briana's voice sounded so small and unsure.

"It depends on him. PTSD can be treated with therapy, but how much he recovers will depend on him."

"What do we do now?" Sophie asked.

"I'm advising that he stays here. We need to keep an eye on his head wound, plus we need to make sure he is mentally stable."

"What if he isn't?"

"Let's not discuss that just yet. Today was probably just a bad day. There is no reason to assume that this is a permanent state." He looked around at the weary faces. "He will be out for a while. Grab some coffee, decompress and come back in a couple of hours. That's an order."

The group left hesitantly, as the doctor walked back to his patient. He pondered the man in front of him and his life. The tired sunken eyes, even with the prescribed sleeping pills he couldn't get a decent night's sleep. When he attached the monitor, he saw the bandages and other bruises and scratches, must have been hurting himself in his sleep. And his pulse is still elevated even now, can't this poor man just get a small break. Tomorrow the real work begins; it's going to be tough and he's not sure how much of their friend they can recover. The days will be long and daunting. And he will have to learn how to be open with people. But if what he thinks is true, then this man is a fighter, this man can get through this.

TBC