And the Inside Job - for Eliot Spencer

[stillageek]

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.

Comments

[likeknives]

"Not when you sear your tastebuds off! How are you gonna taste anything if they're all gone!?"

A pause as he tastes his.

"You really like it? I think it's the garlic that gives it the added kick, and a little lemon juice..."

[stillageek]

"Don't you worry about me. I got a lot of these babies still in here."

Now that the food is cooling off he can actually start eating normally. "Yeah, the lemon's a nice touch. That your own recipe?"

[likeknives]

"That's not...that's not how that works?"

How is this guy both equal parts infuriating and equal parts friendly enough that he can't quite pull up an active dislike?

"Yeah, I do all my own recipes here, man. I try to always add my own thing to the classics, y'know?"

[stillageek]

"Sure, they just grow back. Tongue's fine."

He'll just keep eating, talking with his mouth full. Hope you don't mind.

"That's cool. Cool, cool. This like your hobby or did you work as a chef before?"

[likeknives]

"Not fast enough that you can enjoy the exact food you're eating at the moment!?"

Yeah, he minds. You're getting all the glare as Eliot digs into his bowl.

"Hobby. Just somethin' to do, y'know." Besides kill people for a living.

[stillageek]

"Ye of little faith. I'm enjoying it plenty!"

Evidently, since he's helping himself to a second serving.

"That's cool, man. I dig video games. And painting."

[likeknives]

He can't help but chuckle. It's so absurd, but-- "--at least you're enjoying it."

As much as he wants to dislike him, he can't. Dude got a second serving.

"Video games and painting? Really?"

[stillageek]

Hardison shrugs. These two things go together perfectly fine in his book?

"Oh, you know. Just a little doodling here and there when I got the time, nothing fancy."

[likeknives]

"But you're a hacker. Like, video games, I get, but..."

A pause as he takes a bite of his food.

"Don't really get that many artsy people in this line of work."

[stillageek]

Hardison laughs.

"Says the assassin that just cooked me a five star meal."

He grabs the bowl to slurp the rest of the sauce out of it, licking his fingers. "Can show you some later if you like. You like art, man?"

[likeknives]

He has to grin at that. It's a weird feeling, being good at something that's not...destructive. To be proud of something you created instead.

He has to think about that a little more.

"Yeah? Yeah, I'd like to see 'em. I do. Don't get much of a chance to create things when you work this job, though. Don't lose that."

[stillageek]

"Ain't gonna be a problem, man, I'm good at multitasking."

He kind of has to be or he'd be in the wrong line of work. Focus is good and all but sometimes you gotta be able to let your mind scatter across several screens, lines of code and research strands.

"Cool, cool. Got 'em back in my room. Got your papers and outfits back there, too."

[likeknives]

"Good. What else can you do? 'Sides...hacking and video games and art?" A smirk. "Can you fight, man? I gotta know if I need to teach you a few moves. Gotta make sure you got my back if things go really wrong."

A pause.

"Outfits? The disguises? You take care of those?" He's not complaining, it's actually really convenient that he doesn't have to worry about it.

[stillageek]

"Yeah, they're already done." He starts checking off his fingers. "Also got us a safehouse and a getaway car. New plates should already be installed, uhh, plane tickets, that's done, hotel is done, untraceable credit cards check, earbuds check, fake GQ articles you appeared in check..."

He just keeps going here but in short, he takes care of everything.

But fighting.

Skipping over that fighting, did you ask him about fighting? He didn't hear anything about fighting.

[likeknives]

Okay, fine, he's a tiny bit impressed that everything's already taken care of.

"Thanks, man, I--GQ articles?!"

He has to take a second to process this one, because did he say something about fighting? He didn't hear anything about fighting why are there fake GQ articles--

[stillageek]

"Yeah, of course. How else would you gain credibility and access? These rich guys? They all read GQ. It's like their guilty pleasure. To see how regular dudes who'd like to be rich dudes would behave. You kinda have to think laterally for that one."

There's a pause.

"You do a killer work-out for the sixpack of the summer."

Just as good a time to mention that than any.

[likeknives]

"...that makes sense."

So he's tentatively okay with it, until--

"--are you serious?" His face lights up. "That's great, man, can I see the articles?"

[stillageek]

When Eliot's face lights up so does Hardison's and he clasps his hands together, mirroring his enthusiasm.

"Oh man, I spend like the entire night on that one?! It's legit, man. Men's Health's been blowing up my mailbox ever since because they are SO mad they didn't get you?"

He jumps up, grabbing Eliot's arm and dragging him along. "Come on, I'll show you. It's high gloss paper glory, baby."

[likeknives]

"Really? You're kiddin'--that's--really!?"

He just barely remembers to turn the stove off before he lets Hardison drag him along. He doesn't like to be touched much, but he's so caught up in the excitement he scarcely notices. "Can I have a copy!?"

[stillageek]

"Sure, yeah, no problem man!"

Hardison leads him to his room, leaving the door open for him to follow inside. He walks over to a stack of folders, printouts and magazines, flipping through it until he pulls out a fake GQ issue, tossing it over at Eliot to catch.

Congratulations, Spencer! You are now the leading figure of a several-page Shred the Abs to the Max workout story!

[likeknives]

Eliot takes a few seconds to look around the room before he catches the fake GQ issue--which he's immediately impressed with. He breaks into the hugest grin, chuckling, because this is amazing?!

Except--

"Hey, where'd you get these pictures?"

[stillageek]

"Man, I'm so glad you like these? Like, you would not believe how these guys tend to take everything for granted, you know? Here I am, working all night, making sure the sun falls just right on your face..."

He holds up his hands.

"Whoa, now. A magician never reveals his tricks."

[likeknives]

"Well, you did a great job, cause it looks so cool, I mean--"

Just the longest look, Hardison. He squints at him, equal parts menacing and confused.

"...right."

[stillageek]

"Really, you think?"

He beams, unperturbed by the menacing stare. "That's dope man, nobody really appreciates what I'm doing, know what I'm saying?" He grabs a stack of envelopes, handing them over. "J.Lo swears on your workout. You got fanmail, too!"

More papers, cards, a wallet. "There you go, man, credit cards, ID, driver's license, library card, CV..."

He pauses when he suddenly thinks of something. "Hey, so I didn't know about the food thing but do you want me to put nutrition in there, too? Like, you could be a... a healthy food expert. Maybe you can hold, like, a presentation on it?" Snapping his fingers. He's clearly having fun thinking these things up. "Or, or, like your own diet! Ketout of here and get ready for the next big thing!"

[likeknives]

Menacing stare canceled on the account of J.Lo swearing on his workout and fanmail.

"What? Are you serious? Lemmie see--" he eagerly grabs the envelopes, opening them with the greatest of haste.

He sorts through the wallet, cards, and papers, his face not hiding the fact that he really is impressed by all this. Moreau really knew how to find and hire or coerce the best.

"Yeah? Actually that would be great?" Please continue to feed his ego, Hardison.