Alec Hardison [Leverage] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stillageek) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makingthisupasigo2018-07-24 12:53 pm
stillageek) wrote in makingthisupasigo2018-07-24 12:53 pm
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.
no subject
Carter's anger seems to fire him up as well. He knows he's in the wrong here, but he's giving Carter a chance and it's at considerable personal risk to him and the crew's plan.
"I'm tryin' to save you! I missed that chance, and I'm tryin' to make up for it, okay? I left you once, if I can--if I can fix that--"
no subject
At least you broke through his cold exterior?
"You're lucky this room isn't bugged or this conversation would already be over. You're trying to get me killed? Is that it?"
no subject
Eliot’s eyes widen, his usual intensity at an all-time high.
Who are you and what have you done with John Carter?
“You’re right, I didn’t. But I’m offering it to you now, and...”
He shakes his head, his hair falling in his face again. “No! Of course not! You don’t even know how much I’m risking by just being here, much less even telling you this—“
no subject
He works his jaw, almost too upset to speak for a moment and when he continues, his voice is pure ice.
"I'm there, at his side, I'm his partner and it took me a long time to get there. A long and a very, very painful time, no thanks to you. And you don't get to come in here and take that away from me. Not after what you did. Not after what I've been through."
An even colder look than his voice. "And if you try, I will ruin you and your little scam here."
no subject
Eliot looks like he's been kicked in the stomach, the blood drains from his face and he can't speak for a moment. When he finally does, he sputters, the sheer disbelief evident in his tone.
"His partner!? You're Moreau's partner!?"
That look looks so wrong on Carter's face. He doesn't get chills easily, but that...that does it.
"...I'm not scamming anybody."
no subject
He picks his glass back up, more of a prop than anything. "What did you think would happen? What choices did you think you left me with here? This is who I am now. Like you said, life is just like that sometimes. It ain't fair."
no subject
"You ar--were my friend." He just barely stops himself from making that in the present-tense. "But I messed up, I did, and I just...it was the only way I could protect you, when I left..." There was little point explaining himself over and over again, he wasn't sure why he was still holding onto it. Maybe he was just saying it to make himself feel better.
"I don't know. Just...didn't think you'd go so far as to become Moreau's partner. I thought you hated...all of this. What I...used to do."
Life was feeling very, very unfair at the moment.
no subject
No present-tense here for either of them, nope.
"But like you told me, we don't always get a choice. I was alone. I had to adapt."
no subject
"Well, that's great. You had to adapt all the way up to being Moreau's partner? You know what he does! You're okay with that!?"
no subject
His voice takes on a sharp tone, pointing an accusing finger.
"Don't you dare to stand there and judge me, Eliot, you of all people, don't you dare! Mr. Number One Assassin, Mr. Right there at his Side, Mr. Murdered More People Than I can even imagine, don't you dare! You know damn well that being his partner is the only reason I am still here, that is the only reason he kept me! You know damn well doctors are expendable!"
no subject
Carter's anger and agitation only fuel his own, and he slams his glass down hard enough on the table that it slides right off, clattering on the floor.
"You're supposed to be better than me! Better than this, better than us..." His eyes are wide, because what Carter's saying does sink in.
How else would he have managed to survive this long?
Some of the fire fades, and Eliot sits back in the chair, his eyes still wide with anger, but there's a scoff of disbelief as he rubs a hand on his face.
"Partners with Moreau."
He should have seen it coming.
no subject
While he can reflect rationally on what happened to him, there's no emotional response to the accusation Eliot is throwing his way. His face stays impassive (maybe a bit too impassive) and he lifts his chin arrogantly.
"I know the people. I know the rules. I'm the only doctor he can trust. You can't do this job without someone you know can't be bought, can't be tricked into stabbing you in the back."
Someone who doesn't care about money because he had all the money in the world already and chose to turn his back on it. Someone who won't let anyone die who ends up on his table. Someone who has nobody else, nothing to go back to. The perfect tool.
"Spare me your self-righteousness, Eliot. You knew this was coming the moment you walked out the door. You wanted to save me, right? Well, here I am. I'm safe."
no subject
He drops his hand, glaring up at Carter but it's mostly anger at himself, fueled by being...what, afraid of what he was seeing, hearing? That somehow this really was the worst thing he'd ever done and it wasn't over yet, it just kept getting worse and worse?
He's right. This was pretty much the best, the only outcome, and he just didn't want to see it.
Eliot's silent for a long, long moment.
When he finally speaks again, he can't quite look him in the eyes.
"And now. Now, this is what you want?"
no subject
The words are hollow, cold, a bit subdued.
"I told you, Eliot. I want to live."
no subject
But the gears in his head were turning. He wasn't going to give up on this, give up on Carter. He might've, he'd come close to, maybe if he didn't spend this much time with him, maybe if he hadn't had to 'catch up'. But now it was too late. He couldn't leave him again, he couldn't take that on his conscience.
no subject
Carter puts the bottle topper back on the flask, looking back over his shoulder.
"You looked after me when I first got here and I haven't forgotten that. So I'm gonna give you a pass this one time. Do your job, and don't interfere."
no subject
Not you.
But he's going to change that. Somehow, someway, he was gonna fix this. Make it right.
He glances back up at Carter, his face impassive and unreadable again.
"Good to catch up."
no subject
Carter's face is just as blank.
"You need something, let the girls know. You know how it works."
no subject
"Yeah, of course, I know how it works."
A pause, and he looks away.
"Take care of yourself, Carter."
no subject
Be careful around here. Don't step out of line again.
"You too."
It's more than an empty reply, there's something genuine about it like he means it.
no subject
And even though it's not anywhere near nightfall yet, Eliot can't help but say it.
"Good night, Carter."
It's just taken a long time to answer in return.
no subject
He keeps his back turned on Eliot and doesn't move for a long moment.
Eventually, he opens the door and steps outside.