Chapter 25


Eliot had just turned himself around and was making his way toward the exit when a large man in a very fine-looking suit bumped into him.

"I'm sorry." The strongly accented voice apologized, as he crouched down to Eliot's level. Checking to make sure that the hitter wasn't injured, he felt down his arms and helped to get his bad leg back onto the footrest. He seemed generally appalled that he'd walked into this stranger, continuing to take the blame. "I am so very sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. I'll be more careful in the... YOU!"

"Eliot, what's going on in there? Why aren't you leaving?" Nate's hurried voice sounded down the coms.

Eliot would have been leaving right now if he had the choice, but the guy he'd just bumped into was keeping a tight grasp on his wheelchair.

"I think the mark's business partner just made me," the hitter whispered quietly into the collar of his shirt. As he looked up, he could see that the man was now signaling for the mark to come over, a raging storm growing darker in his eyes.

"Do you know this man?" The stranger asked as he pushed against Eliot's shoulder, causing him to wince in pain when his damaged nerves reacted to the sudden pressure.

The mark stumbled on over, with a large tumbler of whisky in his hands. "Yeah, he's one of my employees." His drink sloshed and his words slurred as one of his friends tried to steady him. "Don't worry he won't say anything, the guy's a pipsqueak."

The man's drunken state did nothing to improve his business partner's ire, in fact, it only seemed to anger him further. "Really. Well, that's strange, because I happen to know that your new friend here is a FED."

I am?

"He is? How'd you know?" The mark slowly started to sobber with the news.

"He was part of the team that took down Freddie."

"Hardison, what is he talking about?" Nate questioned the hacker, hearing every one of the new guy's words.

"One moment..." Eliot could hear the fast typing as Hardison scanned through files from their previous cases. "Here it is! He's talking about Freddie Moreno, a corrupt business tycoon with known ties to a columbium trafficking ring. We took him down over a year ago as well as his partners in crime."

"Ok, but what does this guy have to do with it?"

"According to facial recognition, he was there during a sting operation we set up, but he left before things got interesting. I was busy doing a hack across town, so we sent Eliot in to be the FED this time. He must have seen Eliot just before he left and put all the pieces together." He showed the mastermind the files, including a heavy rap sheet for the man they were now up against. "I'm sorry man. If I had known there was a conflict, I would have never sent you in there."

"Hey, it's not your fault, Hardison. Just bad luck."

While the team was gathering their much-needed info, it seemed the bad guys had come to an understanding.

"So," the Columbian walked back over to Eliot. "You FEDs are faking injuries now, I guess nothing is beneath you."

The hitter had to think quickly on his feet, deciding how much truth he needed to give. "No, this is real. I got in a bad accident during a chase a while back, ended up with nerve damage as well as other things." He decided to stick to the facts as much as possible, whilst keeping in line with his new cover.

"And yet they still let you do undercover work?"

"No, this was just coincident, I swear. After everything that happened, they gave me a new identity so I could live out the rest of my life in peace. I took the job at his company because I thought it would be an easy ride."

The Columbian knelt down, brandishing a large knife very close to the hitter's jugular. "You know, I should just kill you where you stand." He pressed the blade a little deeper, just enough to release a small trickle of blood that ran down Eliot's neck. "But... I don't know if you are telling the truth. So, I will keep you, for now. Then kill you later, once I have my answers."

.

.

.

Approximately an hour later, in the back of Lucile.

"Eliot, are you ok?" Sophie called out into her coms as soon as she knew the coast was clear for the hitter, only for him to reply with a very sarcastic, "yeah, Soph, just peachy."

"We managed to follow the tracker in your coms, so were parked on a lot just a couple hundred yards from you," Hardison explained for those who were not in the van, and were instead tied up in (can you guess) and abandoned warehouse by the docks. (just so unoriginal)

"Great, but that doesn't help me much when I'm handcuffed to my own damn wheelchair."

"Can't you roll yourself out, by using your feet or something?"

"No." He'd tried that already. "They put the brakes on, plus I'd have no way to steer."

"Why don't you just pick the lock on the handcuffs?" Parker chimed in, appearing from out of nowhere with a handful of popcorn shoved into her mouth.

"Because I don't have a pick or anything else that can be used as one."

"Yeah, you do." She said it like it was obvious, which to be fair it was to her. "It's built into the arm of your wheelchair."

"Parker what are you..."

"I got bored a few weeks back and decided to modify your chair." Another handful of popcorn got thrown into her mouth. (where is she getting it from?)

"You pimped his ride. Ha, nice one." The hacker lifted up his hand in offer of a high-five.

"Hardison,"

"You'll find a small compartment underneath the left arm of your chair. The whole thing should just slide out like a drawer and inside is a copy of those specialty lock picks I got you."

"Parker..." Nate was about to scold the young thief when he was interrupted by a very happy-sounding hitter.

"She's right Nate, I've got them," Eliot called out. Intrigued with the find he continued to ask, "what else did you add?"

"Not the time Eliot." They could deal with all that stuff later once he was safe. "Just sit tight whilst we figure a way to get you out of there." It was about time that the mastermind got to planning.

"Nah, Nate, I'm good. I can get myself out easy now that I'm uncuffed."

"No way Eliot," Nate shouted down the line, his eyebrows rising in disbelief. "It's too risky. Just wait for us."

"Why? I can see a way out, it'll be so much quicker if I..."

"I said no, end of discussion."

"Why don't we vote on it?" Parker then suggested. (She'd been learning all about conflict resolution in her lessons with the grifter)

"What?" Nate questioned

"Why don't we vote on who gets to save Eliot?"

"We're not..."

"I like that idea; I vote that I save myself."

"There's no..." The mastermind continued to stutter as another of his teammates steamrolled over him

"My votes on Eliot too."

"That's not how it..."

"That two in my favor, anymore?"

"Fine, I vote that we save Eliot as a team," Nate growled, doing a pretty good impression of the hitter in question. "Sophie, Hardison?"

"I agree with Nate here." Hardison then evened the playing field as Sophie declared. "I'm not getting involved."

The thief was very confused, there hadn't been a lesson on what to do if the votes came to a draw. "Well that doesn't work, Sophie needs to pick a side." She stated quite matter-of-factly.

"Parker, this is ridiculous. How is he meant to save himself?" Nate tried for rational reasoning as if that ever got him anywhere in the past.

"He's Eliot, he always saves himself. Remember that cave in Paraguay, the one filled with explosives?"

The mastermind just threw his head back in exhaustion, signaling with a frantic wave of his arms that the hacker should deal with his girlfriend. Maybe he could get through to her where everyone else failed. (Eliot could probably explain this to her if it didn't go against his own goals. They always did have the easiest communication in the group)

"That was different, Parker. He didn't have a choice then, plus he wasn't stuck in a wheelchair with a dozen Columbian mob guys blocking his exit. He can't fight his way out this time around." Hardison tried, but he could see by that look in her eyes that the thief just wasn't getting it.

"He can too, we've been working on it."

"What do you mean, you've been working on it?" Nate questioned her, his voice then growing stern as he asked, "is that how he got that gash on his face last week?"

"Yeah."Parker shrugged nonchalantly. "We were working out ways that he could fight on his crutches up on the roof when one of them slipped and he went down hard. Took us half an hour to get him back down that ladder again."

Nate was getting angry now, his worry for the hitter growing as his rescue got delayed further whilst they sorted this mess out. Sophie was just about to suggest that he take a step outside to cool down when a clicking sound coming from the front of the van distracted her for a moment.

"Parker you shouldn't be doing that, It's dangerous and one of you could have gotten hurt. Do you want El back in the hospital, this time permanently?" He questioned her in a tone of voice that could almost burn a person with its scolding nature.

"Noooo" The thief sunk, sheltering her crestfallen face behind her knees.

"Then listen to me, no matter what he says, on the contrary, Eliot can't..."

"What are you guys arguing about now?" The hitter panted as he lifted himself tiredly into the van. "Could one of you get my chair, please?"

"One second Eliot," Nate waved off the person talking to him from the front seat. "We're just telling Parker why you can't... ELIOT!"

Three sets of eyes all turned suddenly toward the hitter, who was now sitting comfortably after his long and tiring journey from the warehouse to Lucile. (Sophie had seen him climb in and reacted to his request for help with his wheelchair, so she was seeing to that)

"Sorry I took the coms out; you were being too loud, and I couldn't concentrate on escaping," Eliot explained with a cocky grin as he adjusted his seatbelt. "Now, what were you telling Parker I couldn't do?"

.

.

.

Five minutes earlier...

The argument was in full swing, and it didn't look like it was going to get resolved quickly, even with the suggestion of a vote. (You'd be surprised how many votes ended in a tie, despite the group having an odd number)

"I'm not getting involved..."

Hearing the grifter back out of the decision-making, Eliot removed the coms unit from his ear so he could plan his phase of attack.

.

Step one: Unlock wheels and move toward the exit.

That one was pretty simple. With his newly freed hands, all he had to do was reach over and pull the release bar on the back of his chair and push off. Plus the exit was clearly marked and within his sights, so he wouldn't need Hardison to pull up a floor plan or anything. Just keep on rolling forward, (maybe angle himself to right a bit so he didn't crash into the doorframe) and he's good to go.

Step two: Realise guards have been posted on that door and search for a new exit.

'Ok, Spencer, try a different route. Maybe there's a side exit you can use? Hell, it might even have a ramp.'

Step three: Get spotted almost immediately by a couple of low-rent thugs.

Step four: Get insulted by said thugs that think mocking a guy in a wheelchair is the height of comedy and not a complete asshole thing to do. (Pricks)

Step five: Remember breathing exercises and try to stay calm.

Tip: Sometimes creating a mental image in your head can help with this, and the picture can be whatever works for you. A flowing stream, quiet forest, fluffy bunnies, or even your enemies' heads smashed into the floor whilst you stand over them laughing maniacally. It's totally personal.

Step six: Make that mental image a reality in under a minute.

.

The two thugs were still trying out their comedy club audition in front of him, not noticing as Eliot looked around to see what else had been added to his chair. He was just feeling his way down the long metal pole that attached to one of the handles when he heard the tell-tale click of a catch being released.

"How in the..."

Giving the rubber grip a small tug, the hitter soon found himself holding a collapsible baton with a steel tip for extra impact.

It kind of looked like the one Sterling used during their fight... scratch that, it was the one Sterling used during their fight. (Parker must have stolen it. Ha!)

He then tucked the piece away where the two men couldn't see it.

"Hey, you guys finished yet? I'm really itching to kick some guy's ass; it's been a while." Eliot shrugged and pouted before pointing to his legs as if the reasoning wasn't obvious.

"You actually think that you, can beat us up? Did you get hit in the head as well during that accident?"

"Yeah, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Look man, I ain't gonna hit no cripple." The other man commented, looking quite disgusted with the idea as took a few steps back. (At least one of these guys had some morals, even if it's only a few of them)

Eliot chuckled to himself and donned his most charming smile. "So, I can just leave then. Thanks, guys." He started to head toward the second exit that he'd finally located during the discussion, rolling casually past the two men.

"You ain't going anywhere." Thus number one (the asshole one with the terrible attempt at a mustache) grabbed the hitter by his right shoulder, pulling back to throw the chair into a spin. "The boss ain't done with you yet."

It was at that moment that things took a turn. Later on, when telling this story, the men would describe it as a switch being flipped making the atmosphere in the room suddenly change. Gone was the light-hearted bantering, and the smooth charm demonstrated by their captive. Instead in its place, was a dark cloud of building tension.

"I'll give you one warning." A growled threat sounded out from under the first thug's palm. "Take your filthy hand off of me."

"O-o-or what? You can't do anything t-to us. You're in a damn wheelchair, for Christ's sake."

The hitter didn't respond to that, he just continued to glare at the man who still held a firm grip on his shoulder.

As his ice-cold eyes burned into their flesh, the two men started to quake with uncontrollable fear.

Letting out a long sigh, Eliot finally said "well don't say I didn't warn ya."

.

.

.

"So, I grabbed the hand that was still holding onto me and twisted, which of course made him scream like a little girl, alerting the four guards out front to what was going on. I used the baton on the two guys in front of me, taking them down with a couple of hits to the knees and one to the face." The hitter pulled out the aforementioned weapon, showing off the tip which was still stained red. "Damn this thing is good, you should have seen the amount of blood coming out of that asshole's face. Anyways, that's when the other four came over and things got a little tricky."

"Did you pull that move we've been practicing? You know the kick where you," Parker started to demonstrate...

"Oh, you mean the one where I tip my chair onto one wheel so I can get more height? Yeah, caught goon number three completely off guard with a shot to the back of his skull. They soon realized I wasn't actually paralyzed and took things more seriously after that. But by then the fight was pretty much over. A few punches to the sternum, oh and the knife that I found in my footrest, and everything was over. Just rolled out the door and over to you guys. It was nothing special."

"Are you kidding me man, that was awesome." Hardison gleamed as he finally unlocked the door and let them into their apartment.

"Yeah, well I still think you should have waited for us, El. Or at least kept your coms in, just in case." Nate chastised, still annoyed that the hitter hadn't waited like he was instructed to do.

"Fine, next time I'll let you listen while I'm out there being a badass." The grin and the high five he shared with Parker, let the mastermind know how seriously he was taking that reprimand.

"Not what I meant."

"Anyways, who's cooking dinner toni..."

About halfway into the main living area, Eliot froze, the only movement coming from his chair as it got bumped into by the team's leader.

"Eliot?" Nate's tone was filled with concern as he asked the unvoiced question, only for it to be answered by another more pointed question from the hitter.

"What are you doing here?"

It was only then that the others noticed the other much older man standing in their apartment. "I was told you'd been in an accident. I didn't realize how bad it was." He seemed shy as he spoke combing his hand through his hair in a way that looked familiar to the team. And that wasn't the only similarity they saw.

"Who's that?" Parker whispered to Nate. (The only one not to have worked it out on her own)

"It's Eliot's dad."

"Why's he here? I thought you said he wasn't coming?"

"He must've changed his mind."

"That doesn't explain why you're in Portland... or my apartment?" Oblivious to the conversation happening behind him, Eliot continued to interrogate his father, sounding a lot more scared and fragile than they'd ever heard him.

"I wanted to see that you were ok. I know it's been a few years..."

"More than a few." The hitter looked to the ground, shame and frustration battling for dominance on his face. It was hard to tell who he was angry at, himself for leaving, or his dad for making it so impossible for him to stay. It was more than likely both.

"I thought that maybe we could catch up." Mr Clark stumbled through his words, looking downright relieved when he finished them. Only to be stunned by the sharp, one-word reply.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why would you want to? Why would you come all this way? It's not like... I was just a-a... Nate, I can't..."

"Eliot?" Nate rushed over, hearing the familiar sound of the hitter struggling to breathe.

Anxiety attacks had been a rare occurrence before the accident, but still there, and now they came much more frequently, especially during the night. After his first few crash courses in dealing with a panicking Eliot, Nate soon took lessons in how to ground a person in the moment, so they could calm themselves down.

"Eliot, look at me. Try to match my breathing, and try to remember where you are. Can you name three things that you can hear for me?"

The hitter was starting to slow his breathing, attempting to get his stuttering breaths in time with the masterminds. But seeing that man here, having his dad see him like this, it was all too much.

"I-I can't..." Eliot pushed himself, as quickly as he could, out of the room.

"Spencer," Mr Clark was just about to run after his son when Nate's hand reached out to stop him.

"I think he needs a moment to be by himself. It's been a rough day."

The mastermind took sympathy on the father who just saw his kid go through something horrible with no way to help him. He knew how it felt after all, but he also needed to think about what was best for Eliot, and right now, that wasn't the man he felt a need to escape from.

"I didn't mean to upset him." The older man shook his head. "I was right with what I said before, I can never get it right with that boy. I should leave."

...


AN: There won't be another chapter of this until after Christmas probably. But if you're interested, there will hopefully (Fingers crossed that I get it done in time) be a seven chapter Christmas themed leverage story going up the week leading up to the 25th.