makingthisupasigo | And the Inside Job

And the Inside Job - for Eliot Spencer

One of the many advantages of being the hacker is you don't have to deal with your co-workers all that much. Which can be a literal lifesaver when your co-workers are the deadliest people on the planet.

Hardison is camped out in his server room, pulling up information and data for the various jobs that are coming up for the assassins. And, as usual, looking into the online habits of his co-workers. It's his way to protect himself, digging up dirt on all these guys to keep them at bay. So far it's been working. He hasn't been in Moreau's services for very long and it hasn't been pleasant (no, sir, it has not been pleasant at all) and in the beginning nobody expects him to survive very long.

But then Hardison lives up to his reputation and starts making things happen, digs up information that is thought to be impossible to get, gets a hold of people who are impossible to find, gets into systems they used to work around before because they're impossible to hack. And people take note. If Moreau's personal e-mails can be believed (which of course Hardison totally doesn't read) the boss even wants him to work with Spencer on one of the next jobs. He hasn't met Moreau's favorite yet but what he found out about the guy so far has him nervous in advance.

There's an alert and one of his screens light up, revealing a window with an online poker webpage. There's a second window next to it with code running in the corner. The webpage informs him that beefboy has entered the lobby.

Hardison rolls over in his swiveling chair, grabbing one of the keyboards. "Now what you up to, Brett, my man? You gonna play a little? Spend some of that hard-earned cash? Come on then."

There's just something incredibly satisfying about having these murderjerks lose their blood money on his fake gambling sites. Hardison watches the game unfold for a while, upping Brett's chances here and there, giving him a couple of good runs and waits until the assassin gets greedy. Then he quickly types a line of commands, causing the AI's cards to flip around right before Brett calls. The screen blinks and then the poker site informs that beefboy's winnings have just dropped down to a big fat 0.

There's an enraged howl coming from somewhere in the mansion and Hardison grins, clapping his hands together and giggling. "Ohh yeah, I got you. I got you good! In your face. Where's your beef now, huh? Where's your beef!? At the butchers, that's where it's at!"

While his analyzing programs run some calculations for his actual work he gets up to get himself some food from the kitchen. It's gonna be a long day of pulling data and getting ready for his meeting with Spencer, so he'd probably better grab some snacks while he's still got the chance.

Stepping outside he slows when he passes by a very angry assassin in the hallway. Hardison knows he probably shouldn't be pushing his luck too much but that angry vein that looks like it's about to pop is just too tempting. "Yo, Brett, what's the matter? You having a bad day, my man? Did I hear you scream earlier?"

There's murder in Brett's eyes (but then again when is there not?) and that tower of a man steps up to him. "You looking for a beating there, geek?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. See, a little birdy told me that you've been using the company's credit card for some little personal shopping. ... The birdy is my computer, by the way. It's, I call it birdy, it's like a..." He trails off when Brett looks at him like he's going to snap his face in two.

"I'm gonna put your head underwater until you beg me to put a knife between your eyes."

Hardison frowns. "Uh, no you won't. Come on, b-boy, you know the drill? The moment something happens to me there's like an e-mail that goes straight to the boss. It's called automatic forwarding. You should look it up."

Brett looms and pushes past him very closely, growling. "You better watch your back, Hardison."

"Oh! Oh! No. What's that? No touching. You know the rules. No, there's no touch, you don't touch me." He holds up his hands, turning in a half-circle while Brett stomps past him and calls after him. "Can't touch this, baby! Yeah, I'm teflon! I'm the teflon man, they call me Mr. T. And the t is for teflon!"

The grin drops off his face once Brett disappears around the corner. God, he is scared to death of these guys.

It doesn't stop him from humming a little tune as he walks into the kitchen, though. Seems empty but there's something simmering on the stove. Hardison randomly sticks his hand inside to grab some of the food, tossing it in his mouth as he walks past it.

Stops.

Walks backwards until he's back at the pot and stares at it because damn. Damn, baby.

He grabs a small bowl from the cabinet, helping himself to some more.

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Alright, the record screeches to a stop there because wow, that he did not expect. "Oh, no way! You're Spencer? Oh hey, man, good to meet you, cool, cool!"

Hardison sticks his hand out in greeting, then puts it down again because Spencer's busy with his veggies there. That one's Moreau's favorite? ... Well, that was a pretty good knife toss.

"Alec Hardison, we're supposed to meet later today? Actually, I was just gonna grab a bite because of that."

"Well, guess we're meetin' now."

He tosses in some carrots and broccoli, before adding a pinch of sea-salt and pepper.

"You must'a gotten on Moreau's good side if he wants you to work with me." It's just plain, stated fact. But his smile falters a little. Hackers can be criminals (or not, depending on whose side they worked for), but they probably didn't have a lot of experience in the more...physical side of this job.

"You, uh...up for field work? I mean, you ready for it?"

"What can I say? I'm just that good."

He flops down at the table, leaning back and watching Eliot work his kitchen magic. "Uh yeah, sure. Sure, I'm ready? Ready as I'll ever be. I was born ready."

He's so not ready but if Moreau wants him to do this job there's not much he can do about it. Except do the job because if he doesn't do the job then Moreau is gonna decide he's probably not as good as it looked like he was and Hardison wants that even less than doing the job. "I'mma get you in and out no problem."

"Uh-huh."

He pours some olive oil over the simmering vegetables as he speaks.

"I'm sure you will, but I wanna know if you got what it takes if it goes bad."

A pause. "You ever see a guy die in front of you before?"

"Seriously? Do I look like I have?"

Hardison points at himself, eyebrows climbing.

"I do computers, man. Algorithms, codes, servers, information, credit card traces, statement forgeries, aliases. I ride the cloud and it's not even necessary to touch a person. I'm the data wizard. The binary bender." A beat. "Oh, binary bender, that's good, I gotta, do you have a pen? I just, I don't wanna forget that..."

You're just getting the longest Look, Hardison, and no, he's not gonna get you a pen.

"I just wanna make sure you don't freeze up on me if something goes down. I got enough to do as it is without having to carry you out, too."

"Whoa, whoa, freeze up on you? Why would I freeze up on you? I'm gonna be in the van."

The longest pause in return.

"I'm gonna be in the van, right?"

He stops chopping up vegetables for a moment and gives him another look.

"You're my backup. I call for you, you have to come."

"Oh yeah. I know? I'm just playin."

Like he's gonna say no to Moreau's favorite here.

"Sure, that's cool man. I'm gonna be your backup. I will back the hell out of you... up. 's why they call me the back upper, I am, yeah, that, I am that."

He looks back at Eliot, tilting his head. "What's with that look? Is that... something you do, like that look, is that gonna be a thing?"

"...right."

He's not looking forward to this at all, even if the guy was nice and he did compliment his cooking. He clearly had no idea what he was about to be in for.

"What look? I don't have a look."

"Cool. So we're good then. Good, good. Listen, I'm already pulling up all the information, should have it in about an hour."

Except...

"Uh, yeah you do. It's kind of like this glare? But your eyes get all rigid and stony, like a fish's. Gotta be honest man, it's a little, it's a bit creepy."

"Good." He's wary about people he doesn't know having his back, so he's gonna he on his guard until Hardison proves himself.

Except...

"What?! Like a fish? I don't got creepy stone-fish eyes?!"

"So we can eat some more and then head over to my room I guess."

But definitely eat some more first.

Except...

"Yeah, you kinda do, you know when you go to the market and you got these fish there and they like stare at you with this dead look like they're sucking out your soul? It's a bit like that."

"Sounds like a plan." The food's starting to smell great already, as he gets more various seasonings and sprinkles them over the vegetables. Now it's time for some meat, as he fetches some from the refrigerator and begins cutting that up.

Except--

"Are you seriously telling me I have--have soul-sucking fish eyes?!"

Hardison leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the deliciousness as the smell of the food fills the room.

Except--

"It's just, it's a bit much? You're staring at me, man, I'm the one who's being stared at! It's a little nerve-wrecking? I mean, would it kill you to blink once in a while? Better for your cornea, too."

Eliot's just...cutting up the meat even more aggressively now.

Except--

"I blink! I'm blinking right now? This isn't staring, you'd know when I'm staring at you and this is just looking, man--you got somethin' to be nervous about, huh?" It's practically a growl.

He's muttering under his breath as he stabs the meat a little too stabbily.

"Don't have fish eyes, I have nice eyes, gonna show you what dead, soul-sucking eyes really look like..."

"You kidding? 'course I got something to be nervous about. There's like an entire list of things to get nervous about in here, I get so nervous they probably gonna pull treasure out of my ass at some point. Cause I'm a wreck, get it?" He grins as if this was the most normal thing in the world to admit. Finger-gunning, too. "Gonna have nightmares about that knife, man, it ain't cool."

Hardison nibbles on some chips while he waits for the next course, playing with his phone in the meantime.

"Hey, you think we can pack up some of that for the road?"

Just.

The longest Look.

Again.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be nervous. You're a good hacker, right? Or Moreau wouldn't've hired you. You do your job, you follow my lead, do what I say, and you won't get killed. Simple as that."

The meat's in the pot and now he's stirring it. Seriously, Hardison? But that's a compliment too, so he doesn't mind.

"...yeah, sure. I'll fix us some to go."

"You're doing it again!"

Yeah, what, do you expect him not to immediately jump on that?

Hardison turns the phone, snapping a quick picture before holding it out for Eliot to see. "Now tell me that's not a little bit fishy? Look at those eyes, do I hear the Jaws theme playing here? Oh yeah, yeah I do. Here comes John Williams, baby. Martin Brody screwed up because that shark'ss in here with us!"

Eliot makes an audible growl when Hardison shows him the picture, and he takes several steps forward, grabbing the knife he was using to cut the meat off of the cutting board.

For no reason at all, of course.

"The hell is wrong with you!? Delete that!" A pause. "And there's nothing shark-like about my eyes at all!"

"Whoa, whoa, easy, big man! It was a compliment?" Hardison immediately sticks his hand out in a placating manner.

"I mean, sharks, they're pretty dope? Boys, they get merch with sharks on it all the time. You ever been to the dollar store? All the boys' birthday stuff, like the little plates and hats, they all got sharks on 'em. You the big shark around here, right? I mean, next to Moreau who's like... the bigger shark but you're like the, you're also pretty sharky?"

"A compliment?!"

...what is even happening here.

"I don't--the dollar store, what are you--well, I mean, yeah, he is, and I'm kinda like--"

A pause.

"You didn't make it sound like a compliment!"

"Yeah, 'cause you were starin' at me. Would you compliment the shark that's staring at you? No, no, you do not. You'd be all instinct and oh no, is he gonna eat my face and then you'd leave out the important bits like, you know, that sharks are totally fish. I mean, they are, right? They're not dolphins."

This all makes 100% sense, alright?

"You should, man. They got good deals. Sometimes they even got the brand stuff, like, I don't get why you would go to the big stores and pay thrice as much? Like, is it a pride thing?"

Edited 2018-07-25 18:17 (UTC)

...why is this even happening.

"I was just--just looking, like, I can't even look at somebody without being called a shark!?" So much exasperation.

"I like going to the mom and pop shops, all right? Supporting local businesses?"

"You do? Alriiight!" Hardison grins because he sure can respect that! "Good on you, man! You know, most of the time people are just talking but never see it through? Just, major respect there, for real. Here, let's just, let's, we should..."

Holiding out a fist.

You wanna bump that fist?

Bump that fist, Eliot.

"Come on, man. For the mammas and the papas."

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