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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was like the best surprise ever--Spencer, suddenly just up and leaving? Did he accidentally make a wish on a shooting star or something because this is perfect. For a minute there he honestly thought Spencer had gotten himself killed--as 'good' as he was, it wasn't unlikely for their line of work, but somebody had seen him doing a retrieval job, and then someone else heard he'd stolen some fancy art thing and made like a ton of money--like he couldn't make a ton of money working for Moreau anyway but whatever the reason, Eliot Spencer was gone and no longer Moreau's #1 assassin.

Which meant Brett was, and Brett was stoked.

Of course this meant good ol' John Carter was out of a job, or at least temporarily, since Moreau assigned him to Brett for the time being.

Honestly Brett wasn't sure what to think about him now, because clearly Moreau favored him like whoa, which was, y'know, awful. He was untouchable now, and Brett couldn't take out his anger on him, or bully him anymore. In fact if Carter wanted something, he was obligated to go and get it.

Which really, really sucked.

But at least Hardison and his nosiness was out of the picture too, Spencer had taken him with him.

Whatever. He didn't have to worry about either of them anymore.

And Carter was actually the best doc they had, and Brett, feeling already pretty good about getting the #1 one spot on Moreau's list, was feeling even better as he stumbles into Carter's clinic with a gunshot wound in his shoulder and leg.

"Hey! I need help here!"

If there was ever a person Carter thinks he would make an exception for when it comes to 'do no harm', it's probably Brett. Yes, as a doctor he is obliged to treat anyone who needs it. And yes, he had to treat gang members, criminals, violent offenders and the scum of the earth in the past in the ER, no questions asked. Hell, he treated murderers these past months, no questions asked (sometimes some angry questions asked) and that didn't stop him.

But they never taught John to treat the man that had him beaten, had him at his most vulnerable, most humiliated. They never taught him what to do with his emotions then. When that person that had you at your lowest came in and demanded your help.

But that person is here now and he's injured, the trail of blood a more than familiar indication and for a moment Carter thinks of Eliot – and then he pushes that thought aside because it hurts too much – and he shakes his head, trying to focus on the task at hand, remember his training, be there for the patient.

Even if the patient doesn't deserve it.

"Sit down."

Ugh, fine, nice to see you too, jerk.

Brett sits down with a huff, like Carter was the one inconveniencing him.

Of course, it scarcely occurs to him that he probably shouldn't piss off his actual doctor, especially after what he'd done to him.

"How's it goin'?" A slightly menacing smile.

Carter tenses but tries to stay impassive to the needling. Like they taught him. Don't mind the patient. Whatever he's throwing at you, it doesn't matter.

He ignores the question, grabbing a tray and the instruments to remove the bullets.

"What happened?"

He's tense, nervous, and he's doing a bad job at covering it up. "Did you mess up your job?"

"Y'know, they got a couple lucky shots in--"

He scowls at what Carter says next, though.

"Hey! Mess it up? Please, I'm like, the best at this job? That's why I'm number one now."

A cough, which he immediately regrets because, ow.

"Like I said. Lucky shots."

A pause.

"I got 'em, though."

Edited 2018-08-07 01:35 (UTC)

"I don't care, Brett."

But he sits with him and anesthetizes the areas before removing the bullets. "Hold still."

He works quickly, quietly, stitching the areas back together. "There. Congratulations. You're not gonna bleed to death."

He couldn't sound more deadpan if he tried.

"You asked. You said, did you mess up your job?"

Come on, he's actually trying to be polite here. So you know, you won't accidentally ('accidentally') stab him in the back or drug him or whatever.

He keeps his face fairly stoic when Carter sews him up, even though he winces when he thinks Carter isn't looking.

"Thanks."

There's another pause.

"You seriously aren't gonna like, try to take revenge on me or something? You actually did a good job with this." He looks down at his shoulder and leg.

"You're my patient right now."

Carter's voice is quiet but firm. It's difficult to exert self-control here, but he's trying.

"That means I'll always treat you to my best capability." His eyes fall on the bandages on Brett's leg and shoulder. "No matter who you are or what you've done."

"Really?"

He seems genuinely surprised. Incredulous, really.

"Seriously though, you didn't poison me or anything with the...thing you did there? Because if I was in your place, I'd be taking so much revenge against everybody..."

"I know you would. That's why I'm the doctor and you're the assassin, Brett."

His voice is dry as sandpaper.

"You take lives, I try to save them."

Another beat. Maybe a little longer than it has to be? "No, I didn't poison you."

Or did he.

"I know but...people aren't that like...good, y'know?"

Unless Carter was. Which was both annoying and kind of impressive.

Or did you?

Brett nervously looks down at his shoulder and back up at Carter. "Cause if you did, I mean, I wouldn't even really be that mad, it's kind of fair, y'know?"

Tell him if you did, bro.

"You know, out there in the real world? That's actually the status quo. People being that good. Not killing each other, trying to help, it's not... something outlandish. It's how things are supposed to be."

He puts a bandage on Brett's shoulder. Maybe tearing a little more harshly than he usually would.

"I didn't poison you. You'd deserve it, though."

"I don't know what world you're living in, but those are the kinda people that get steamrolled by bigger, badder fish. You wanna be the shark, not the minnow, you know?"

He winces a little when he puts the bandage on. He's fine. Really.

"Deserve is so harsh."

"No, they're not. In the real world, that's just... that's how life works. You look out for each other. Someone needs your help you just... help them. Not everything is about being the bigger, badder fish."

He shakes his head. Why is he even trying to explain that to Brett of all people?

"Deserve is putting it mildly, actually. You're a horrible person."

"But that doesn't happen," Brett says stubbornly. He knows, he's been in this life for a while. "You take what you can get, when you can get it. People will run you over, if you let them. You be nice to someone and they'll take you for everything you've got."

A shrug, and he taps his chest (where it doesn't hurt, at least.)

"That stings, a little."

You be nice to someone and they'll take you for everything you've got.

Carter freezes because isn't that what just happened to him? Trusting someone and having it thrown back in your face in the worst possible way? No. No, he can't think like that, can't allow himself to think like that. That's not who he is.

"It does happen. I've seen it happen. Plenty of times, actually, before I was brought here," he retorts just as stubbornly.

A beat.

"Good."

"Then those people are gonna get got by something or someone someday. That's just how the world works." Even more stubborn!

Brett raises his eyebrows at that good. That's it? You're not even gonna punch his wound and gloat or something?

"Seriously, if I was a doctor and I hated somebody, they would be in so much trouble. And probably dead. You know, you're a really good guy." It's not anything judgy, just an observation. "Like I said, good guys get got. Just the way it is."

"Well, I'm still here."

It comes out a little tersely, tense, because it's too similar to what Eliot used to tell him. Eliot who was supposed to be his friend. Eliot who left him.

Just the way it is.

"And nobody got me. And you're gonna have to get used to that." Is it a little bitter? Maybe. "Cause I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah, you are."

He frowns, his brows furrowing. "And honestly I'm a little bit surprised? I mean, someone like you, I wouldn't have expected them to last ten seconds in a place like this. You're pretty smart, getting all buddy-buddy with Spencer so that you got somebody to protect you. And then whatever happened with Moreau..."

A pause. Not going anywhere, huh?

"Unless you're not one of the good guys."

"I didn't--" Carter wants to argue because that's not why he 'got buddy-buddy' with Eliot. And the thing with Moreau – whatever that thing with Moreau is – hasn't been his decision. But the words catch in his throat because mentioning Eliot is like a knife to his heart and he can't let Brett know any of this; not how it wasn't a calculated move but actual friendship (or so Carter had thought) and definitely not how much it hurt. And if he talks about Eliot, Brett will know how much it hurt.

How much it hurts.

How he can hardly breathe when he thinks about it. How he still can't believe that Eliot left him behind.

"-- expect it either."

Carter sniffs, avoiding the assassin's gaze, trying to keep his hands calm and steady and not flinch away when Brett makes any sudden movements. Trying not to let on how scared he actually is of this guy. All he has is Moreau's favor now and that could change at a moment's notice. All he has is the pretense and he doesn't want to know what Brett will do to him when John loses either.

He is a little surprised when Brett calls him a good guy without any kind of judgment or reservation and frowns at his follow-up words. Unless you're not one of the good guys.

"... What do you mean?"

Brett knows you're scared of him, bro. It's super obvious, plus everything that happened before? Yeah. Totally scared. But right now, he's in your hands, and that changes the dynamic...a lot. At least for now.

"Well, I mean--you're still here, aren't you? You haven't tried to run away or-or tried to poison Spencer or me or anybody else, haven't tried going after Moreau, I mean, you're actually thriving here." A shrug. "Like I said, you became buddy-buddy with Spencer, you're on seriously good terms with Moreau. Most people couldn't stand being friends with murderers or crime bosses."

A smirk.

Carter falls silent at Brett's words, trying to keep his face impassive but looking more and more troubled. He doesn't like what the assassin is saying. What he's insinuating. What it might say about Carter.

"I'm not running away because it would be a death sentence. Besides, I'm officially dead. There's nowhere I could go."

He means to be calm and rational about this but instead his voice is getting defensive.

"I-I'm not thriving. I'm a prisoner here."

All's he hearing is excuses, bro.

"So this...this isn't thriving."

He eyes the clinic, and waves his good hand around.

"Nice suits, great digs, protection. Also prisoners don't really ask assassins to grab 'em a drink now, do they?"

He's not gonna forget that.

"Sh-shut up."

His face is suddenly burning, color rising to his cheeks. "It's not... it's not like that. I didn't choose this? You kidnapped me!"

A beat.

"And that was for beating me up and being a Grade A jerk."

"So you just...antagonize the guy that you know has it out for you anyway. I thought you were smarter than that, doctor." A smirk.

He shrugs, then winces because he just jostled his wound. Ouch.

"You know, if you really wanted to, you could leave. Didn't say you'd survive very long, but if you were really a good person, you wouldn't stand for any of this stuff."

cw violence, blood, and abduction throughout thread

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i lied one more tag goodnight

i'm cry goodnight o7

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject