Predator and Prey - Part 1 of 4
Title: Predator and Prey
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort
Total Story Word Count: ~16,500 words
This Chapter's Word Count: ~3,000 words
Rating: PG-13 (language, violence)
Pairings: None (Gen)
Warnings: None
Summary: Tag to the Leverage episode "The Tap Out Job." Eliot's used to being in control, to being able to fight back against individuals who mean him or his teammate's harm. So what happened in the first few minutes of that fight where he let himself get beat up, for the sake of his team and the success of their con? Add that to the physical trauma from the fight and maybe it's affecting him a lot more than he's leading on.
Author's Note: A thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta phoenix_laugh. This fic was written to fill the prompt "build-up of job related trauma" on my hurt/comfort bingo card. This fic is completely written and will be posted in 4 installments over the next week or so.
Predator and Prey - Part 1
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]
-------------------------------------
“He made me quit. That's the worst thing that can happen, for someone to make you quit. It's a domination that is so total it becomes mental as well as physical.“
-Sam Sheridan, MMA fighter - "A Fighters Heart"
-------------------------------------
There were sharks in the world. Eliot had known this all of his life. It was a necessary part of the status quo for him. There were the sharks, and then there were the seals. The seals, why, they were everyone normal in the world. The moms and dads in their touristy get-ups wandering through the mall in their flip-flops carrying far too many shopping bags. He'd sat at a plastic table outside his favorite little coffee kiosk enough times and watched these people pass to shake his head at them and sigh. They'd chatter on cell phones or amongst one another and ignore the proceedings that surrounded them. As if by ignoring everyone else the danger that rippled beneath the surface of every moment of every day would just dissipate.
These were the people that believed that the security guard with his pepper spray and walkie-talkie and cheap pair of handcuffs could protect them if such an occasion arose. He'd worked among those men in his early days enough to know that they were usually the first to abandon their post at the slightest scent of trouble in the air. The uniform, the gadgets, it was all about creating a façade, an aura of power and control meant to pacify a crowd and provide them with a false security. That façade though, it also painted a target on their backs for any criminal. Take out that rent-a-cop first, rob the everyday people of their security blanket, and well, all of a sudden the room goes silent and everyone is willing to follow the criminal's every order.
Eliot, he trained his whole life to be a real shark. Not one of those rent-a-cops who had fat gathering around their joints instead of lean muscle and thought proper training was knowing how to hit a person with a nightstick when they got combative. No, he'd soaked up every bit of training he could. He'd followed that desire to be a real predator all the way around the world. Military, tiny fighting gyms in Asia and beyond. And that baby fat he'd started with when he first stepped onto that road, it had long ago fallen away in favor of sinuous muscles that lined each one of his limbs. So that he knew if he had to throw a punch to fight for his life he'd have the power behind that strike to deliver it with the strength he needed to incapacitate his enemy and not have to worry about them getting right back up.
He'd worked to climb that hierarchy, elevating himself from another seal in a sea of people to a shark who wandered amongst them. He knew that he could put down almost anyone that came at him. It was why he was never afraid when a thug cornered him coming out of the back entrance of a bar. Sure, his heart raced a bit faster and every sense was magnified times ten as he focused only on the fight before him. But he was never afraid. He'd spent his whole life fighting to earn the tools he needed to protect himself in any scenario that life could throw at him.
So yes, he walked through the mall with his head high and smooth movements. Head on the swivel as he scanned the crowd for any potential threats. But he carried an ease about him, confident in the knowledge that in an ocean of oblivious individuals at any moment he could reach out and put someone down without a second thought. Not that he grabbed the random passerby and put them down for fun. No, his skills were for protection or putting down the people that didn't deserve leniency. A large part of his training had been not only learning the skills necessary to break bones and twist bodies into shapes so as to put the maximum stress on a joint, but also learning the discipline necessary to know when those skills were appropriate to utilize. But he wandered through the world at ease in the knowledge that he was a shark. Not a seal. Not a piece of meat to be preyed upon and left lying in the street, another hapless, witless victim to the predators out to scavenge in the world.
-------------------------------------
“This is a barbaric sport“
“Hey, don't lump these guys in with Rutger, alright? He's not what the sport's about.“
“Eliot, this sport is about two guys beating the crap out of each other.“
“MMA fighters act with more respect than any other sport I've ever seen.“
“Yeah, they're brave heart, I get it.“
- Conversation between Eliot and Sophie debating the merits of Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) as a sport
-------------------------------------
Eliot's breath quickened as he ran a quivering hand back through his hair and tied it in a tight knot at the base of his neck. It was three days ago he'd had that damn fight where he'd allowed another fighter to beat the crap out of him for a spell before throwing off the drugged act and coming back for a knockout. His muscles were still protesting from the night despite the tending he'd done to his body since then. But another con had rolled into action the next day and he'd demanded to be let in on the action despite Nate's assertions that he had had quite enough action for the week and should take some R and R. He wasn't scared, or nervous, just jittery. It was always like this when they asked him to wait. He'd work himself into the mental state necessary to perform his job at peak capacity, and then he'd sit back on his heels and wait for Nate to summon him over the comm from his office miles away and tell him it was his turn to crack some skulls.
Tonight was the first night he'd gotten to do anything for this particular con. The first day or so had been doing reconnaissance on this corporation. It fronted as an operation for some shadier criminal elements to let them move assets across country borders. That meant Hardison and Sophie had been hard at work, Hardison combing the C.E.O.'s electronic records for anything to implicate him, while Sophie worked to cozy in next to the man with her flawless appearance and smooth acting to back her up. Hell, Parker had even got to stretch her muscles a bit. Nate had let her do a dry run on sneaking into and out of the building in preparation for tonight. It seemed their corrupt C.E.O. was a little more paranoid than most and kept most of his records in paper form locked in a safe up on the twenty third floor. And, as Harrison so often liked to complain, give him a computer and he'd make their mark's records sing, but even with all of the hacker skills at his disposal, he couldn't hack a physical document buried in a safe.
Which brought Eliot to the present moment. He was ducked up behind one of the elaborate columns that the building owner had ordered installed in the lobby to make it seem even more imposing. Or to bring a little elegancy to an otherwise drab, standard, office building. Either way, it was perfect cover. He breathed deeply, splitting his attention between watching for any movements around him and listening to Sophie over the comm. She'd snagged the records they needed already and come down from the upper floor pretending to be an associate leaving after an extremely late night.
"Ma'am, can you tell me one more time what sector you work with? I don't recall seeing you prior to tonight."
Eliot listened to the guard mutter skeptically over the comm. Shit. Of course it had to be a smart guard. For every twenty easy ones you got who were wooed by Sophie's alluring looks and smooth adopted accent, you got one who actually ignored all that and did his job.
"Oh, I work with Stellar Communications. Fourth floor. I just started this week. That's what brings me through here so late, got to impress the boss right off the bat, right? Must be why I haven't made your acquaintance yet," Sophie lied.
Eliot listened carefully. And then there was the slightest noise. You had to know it and be looking for it to hear it. But Eliot knew that sound, and thanks to Hardison's intensely sensitive comm units, he heard it. The sound of a snap on a gun holster being popped open had him springing off the wall he'd been leaning up against and silently crossing the distance between his position and the guard's security post.
Sophie's eyes widened when she saw his rapid approach, but she immediately reclaimed her demeanor, smiling at the officer with a breathless, innocent look that suggested pure innocence of any wrongdoing he might be suspecting her of.
And although he couldn't see the man's face from his rear approach, the look on Sophie's face gave him all the answer he needed. A hint of panic was sneaking into her expression, thinly veiled, but still present there none-the-less.
As the man pulled the gun from its holster on his hip and began raising it toward her with one hand as he went for his walkie-talkie with the other, Eliot increased his speed, calling on all of his reserves of energy.
The rest of the world faded away as he quickly closed the distance between himself and the guard. There were only two things in the world at the moment, and that was the gun in the hand of the man before him and the action he needed to take to eliminate that threat.
He raised his hand for a strike and brought it down on the man's shoulder just to the outside of where the neck started. Eliot felt something shift satisfyingly beneath his hand, a bone giving way beneath the staggering pressure of his blow. The man let out a startled, pained gasp. But the strike did its job; the pain radiating out from the pressure point had the man instinctually releasing his grip on the gun. The weapon clattered across the ground.
Keeping one eye on the man, he stepped around in front of the man and kicked the gun across the tile floor in the general direction that Sophie had retreated toward when she anticipated the inevitable confrontation that was about to take place.
The guard staggered back a few steps, eying Eliot with pure fear on his face. Eliot smirked, another seal. He'd take this man down easily. Teach him what working for a corrupt corporation earned him. It earned him a lesson from Eliot in karma. Screw enough people over and someday it'd come back around, like now, delivered with each strike from Eliot's fists. Another strike had the man on the floor, rolling away from Eliot in an attempt to shield his soft, fleshy parts against the onslaught. Eliot delivered one final blow and the man's body went limp as he fell into unconsciousness.
"Eliot! What are you doing here?" Sophie snapped, the bewildered expression on her face fading away to be replaced by one of pure anger.
"Taking out the bad guys. Just like I always do," he snorted back.
"These guys aren't the people we're after. Hell, for all they know nothing is going on here and this is a normal company."
"They're here, aren't they? Making sure the dirty laundry doesn't see the light of day. That makes them guilty enough."
She sighed, walking over and picking up the wallet that had fallen out of the guard's pocket in the struggle. Flipping it over in her hand, she held it up for Eliot to see, "Yes, definitely looks like a two-bit criminal to me. Why, all the criminals I know keep pictures of their two little bright-eyed girls and their dog in their wallets. Want me to strip search him to find the cocaine next?"
Eliot cast his gaze to the floor at that.
But Sophie wasn't finished with him yet, "This man? He's a regular person just like the rest of us. Trying to navigate his way through the world and support his family along the way. What's gotten into you tonight? You've been on edge ever since our last job."
Yeah, ever since his last fight, he thought. He reminded himself that this was how it always was, jittery before a mission, adrenalin-hyped during, and jittery afterwards. Sophie was being paranoid; she was so sensitive to this fighting stuff. He hadn't done any different this time, had he?
She dropped the wallet at Eliot's feet, face up so that he would get a good glance at the family photos, "That's the man you just broke the arm on and probably put out of work for several weeks at least."
It was just another con they'd just finished. Just another con with another bad guy to be taken out. His mind flashed back to a fist connecting to his face sending a shockwave through his skull and down along the spine. A crowd spearing forward in a circle around the ring, jeering, screaming manically as his eyes had darted back and forth. He could've beaten that fighter at any moment, he'd known that the moment he had tested the man's defenses. Instead, he'd restrained himself and allowed fist after fist to pummel his face, his ribs, and his arms. He'd allowed himself to be witless prey for a mediocre predator. Yeah, it had just been another con; he snorted. Only difference was his role had been a seal instead of a shark. But this mission and the ones to come, he'd make up for that. He'd be the weapon that put the bad guys down. He was a shark. He threw one more look at the bloody, unconscious man behind him, snatched the gun off the floor from where he'd discarded it earlier, and jogged out of the building after Sophie.
-------------------------------------
“These guys don't fight because they like hurting other people, alright? They fight to get some sort of control over their opponent, over their environment, over their lives. Have you seen this town? Huh? The farms are drying up. The only shops are bail bondsmen and pawn shops and there's nothing they can do about it. So yeah, they get in the ring and try not to let it all suffocate them.“
-Eliot, speaking to Sophie on the true motivation for fighting against a well-matched opponent
-------------------------------------
"You sent him home, right?" Sophie asked as she sank into a conference chair across from Nate.
The man nodded, "Yeah. The stuff you pulled out of that safe is enough to at least pique the government's interest in their business practices. We'll need a bit more to get them hooked though."
Sophie folded her hands, "That's great, but I'm talking about Eliot here. He's not here, right?"
"No, I sent everyone else home. You said you wanted to chat in private."
"I appreciate it," Sophie responded. She paused for a second there, deciding where to start, "Has anything seemed off with Eliot since we got back from our last job, or is it just me?"
Nate swirled his drink around a few times, the ice chinking against the glass, before taking a swig as he thought for a moment, "No, not really. Why do you ask?"
Sophie sighed, "He was brutal tonight to that guard that was doing his job and investigating a hunch of his."
Nate shrugged, "He took him down; that's his job. We needed to get you and him out of there before he managed to raise the alarm."
Sophie shook her head, and snapped her fingers, motioning for him to pass her his drink. Nate rolled his eyes but slid it down along the polished table. She caught it and raised it to her own lips. If there was a conversation that called for a drink, this was certainly it. "You're wrong. Normally he's...restrained. Tonight it was like something had just loosened all of his anger and frustration and he channeled it into beating the guard up. He took it far beyond what was necessary to incapacitate the man."
Nate rubbed the back of his head, "You're sure about this? This isn't some small accusation you're making here. You're saying Eliot was deliberately brutal. It just doesn't sound like him."
"I understand the implications of what I'm suggesting, it's not pretty. I know, I watched him break a man's arm tonight."
Nate sighed, "I guess we just keep an eye on him for now. If something's up, we'll see to it. But maybe he just had an off night; the last con was a pretty hard one on Eliot in particular."
Sophie nodded, "Ok, I'll trust you on this. But Nate, what happened tonight cannot happen again."
Continue to Part 2
-------------------------------------
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort
Total Story Word Count: ~16,500 words
This Chapter's Word Count: ~3,000 words
Rating: PG-13 (language, violence)
Pairings: None (Gen)
Warnings: None
Summary: Tag to the Leverage episode "The Tap Out Job." Eliot's used to being in control, to being able to fight back against individuals who mean him or his teammate's harm. So what happened in the first few minutes of that fight where he let himself get beat up, for the sake of his team and the success of their con? Add that to the physical trauma from the fight and maybe it's affecting him a lot more than he's leading on.
Author's Note: A thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta phoenix_laugh. This fic was written to fill the prompt "build-up of job related trauma" on my hurt/comfort bingo card. This fic is completely written and will be posted in 4 installments over the next week or so.
Predator and Prey - Part 1
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]
-------------------------------------
“He made me quit. That's the worst thing that can happen, for someone to make you quit. It's a domination that is so total it becomes mental as well as physical.“
-Sam Sheridan, MMA fighter - "A Fighters Heart"
-------------------------------------
There were sharks in the world. Eliot had known this all of his life. It was a necessary part of the status quo for him. There were the sharks, and then there were the seals. The seals, why, they were everyone normal in the world. The moms and dads in their touristy get-ups wandering through the mall in their flip-flops carrying far too many shopping bags. He'd sat at a plastic table outside his favorite little coffee kiosk enough times and watched these people pass to shake his head at them and sigh. They'd chatter on cell phones or amongst one another and ignore the proceedings that surrounded them. As if by ignoring everyone else the danger that rippled beneath the surface of every moment of every day would just dissipate.
These were the people that believed that the security guard with his pepper spray and walkie-talkie and cheap pair of handcuffs could protect them if such an occasion arose. He'd worked among those men in his early days enough to know that they were usually the first to abandon their post at the slightest scent of trouble in the air. The uniform, the gadgets, it was all about creating a façade, an aura of power and control meant to pacify a crowd and provide them with a false security. That façade though, it also painted a target on their backs for any criminal. Take out that rent-a-cop first, rob the everyday people of their security blanket, and well, all of a sudden the room goes silent and everyone is willing to follow the criminal's every order.
Eliot, he trained his whole life to be a real shark. Not one of those rent-a-cops who had fat gathering around their joints instead of lean muscle and thought proper training was knowing how to hit a person with a nightstick when they got combative. No, he'd soaked up every bit of training he could. He'd followed that desire to be a real predator all the way around the world. Military, tiny fighting gyms in Asia and beyond. And that baby fat he'd started with when he first stepped onto that road, it had long ago fallen away in favor of sinuous muscles that lined each one of his limbs. So that he knew if he had to throw a punch to fight for his life he'd have the power behind that strike to deliver it with the strength he needed to incapacitate his enemy and not have to worry about them getting right back up.
He'd worked to climb that hierarchy, elevating himself from another seal in a sea of people to a shark who wandered amongst them. He knew that he could put down almost anyone that came at him. It was why he was never afraid when a thug cornered him coming out of the back entrance of a bar. Sure, his heart raced a bit faster and every sense was magnified times ten as he focused only on the fight before him. But he was never afraid. He'd spent his whole life fighting to earn the tools he needed to protect himself in any scenario that life could throw at him.
So yes, he walked through the mall with his head high and smooth movements. Head on the swivel as he scanned the crowd for any potential threats. But he carried an ease about him, confident in the knowledge that in an ocean of oblivious individuals at any moment he could reach out and put someone down without a second thought. Not that he grabbed the random passerby and put them down for fun. No, his skills were for protection or putting down the people that didn't deserve leniency. A large part of his training had been not only learning the skills necessary to break bones and twist bodies into shapes so as to put the maximum stress on a joint, but also learning the discipline necessary to know when those skills were appropriate to utilize. But he wandered through the world at ease in the knowledge that he was a shark. Not a seal. Not a piece of meat to be preyed upon and left lying in the street, another hapless, witless victim to the predators out to scavenge in the world.
-------------------------------------
“This is a barbaric sport“
“Hey, don't lump these guys in with Rutger, alright? He's not what the sport's about.“
“Eliot, this sport is about two guys beating the crap out of each other.“
“MMA fighters act with more respect than any other sport I've ever seen.“
“Yeah, they're brave heart, I get it.“
- Conversation between Eliot and Sophie debating the merits of Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) as a sport
-------------------------------------
Eliot's breath quickened as he ran a quivering hand back through his hair and tied it in a tight knot at the base of his neck. It was three days ago he'd had that damn fight where he'd allowed another fighter to beat the crap out of him for a spell before throwing off the drugged act and coming back for a knockout. His muscles were still protesting from the night despite the tending he'd done to his body since then. But another con had rolled into action the next day and he'd demanded to be let in on the action despite Nate's assertions that he had had quite enough action for the week and should take some R and R. He wasn't scared, or nervous, just jittery. It was always like this when they asked him to wait. He'd work himself into the mental state necessary to perform his job at peak capacity, and then he'd sit back on his heels and wait for Nate to summon him over the comm from his office miles away and tell him it was his turn to crack some skulls.
Tonight was the first night he'd gotten to do anything for this particular con. The first day or so had been doing reconnaissance on this corporation. It fronted as an operation for some shadier criminal elements to let them move assets across country borders. That meant Hardison and Sophie had been hard at work, Hardison combing the C.E.O.'s electronic records for anything to implicate him, while Sophie worked to cozy in next to the man with her flawless appearance and smooth acting to back her up. Hell, Parker had even got to stretch her muscles a bit. Nate had let her do a dry run on sneaking into and out of the building in preparation for tonight. It seemed their corrupt C.E.O. was a little more paranoid than most and kept most of his records in paper form locked in a safe up on the twenty third floor. And, as Harrison so often liked to complain, give him a computer and he'd make their mark's records sing, but even with all of the hacker skills at his disposal, he couldn't hack a physical document buried in a safe.
Which brought Eliot to the present moment. He was ducked up behind one of the elaborate columns that the building owner had ordered installed in the lobby to make it seem even more imposing. Or to bring a little elegancy to an otherwise drab, standard, office building. Either way, it was perfect cover. He breathed deeply, splitting his attention between watching for any movements around him and listening to Sophie over the comm. She'd snagged the records they needed already and come down from the upper floor pretending to be an associate leaving after an extremely late night.
"Ma'am, can you tell me one more time what sector you work with? I don't recall seeing you prior to tonight."
Eliot listened to the guard mutter skeptically over the comm. Shit. Of course it had to be a smart guard. For every twenty easy ones you got who were wooed by Sophie's alluring looks and smooth adopted accent, you got one who actually ignored all that and did his job.
"Oh, I work with Stellar Communications. Fourth floor. I just started this week. That's what brings me through here so late, got to impress the boss right off the bat, right? Must be why I haven't made your acquaintance yet," Sophie lied.
Eliot listened carefully. And then there was the slightest noise. You had to know it and be looking for it to hear it. But Eliot knew that sound, and thanks to Hardison's intensely sensitive comm units, he heard it. The sound of a snap on a gun holster being popped open had him springing off the wall he'd been leaning up against and silently crossing the distance between his position and the guard's security post.
Sophie's eyes widened when she saw his rapid approach, but she immediately reclaimed her demeanor, smiling at the officer with a breathless, innocent look that suggested pure innocence of any wrongdoing he might be suspecting her of.
And although he couldn't see the man's face from his rear approach, the look on Sophie's face gave him all the answer he needed. A hint of panic was sneaking into her expression, thinly veiled, but still present there none-the-less.
As the man pulled the gun from its holster on his hip and began raising it toward her with one hand as he went for his walkie-talkie with the other, Eliot increased his speed, calling on all of his reserves of energy.
The rest of the world faded away as he quickly closed the distance between himself and the guard. There were only two things in the world at the moment, and that was the gun in the hand of the man before him and the action he needed to take to eliminate that threat.
He raised his hand for a strike and brought it down on the man's shoulder just to the outside of where the neck started. Eliot felt something shift satisfyingly beneath his hand, a bone giving way beneath the staggering pressure of his blow. The man let out a startled, pained gasp. But the strike did its job; the pain radiating out from the pressure point had the man instinctually releasing his grip on the gun. The weapon clattered across the ground.
Keeping one eye on the man, he stepped around in front of the man and kicked the gun across the tile floor in the general direction that Sophie had retreated toward when she anticipated the inevitable confrontation that was about to take place.
The guard staggered back a few steps, eying Eliot with pure fear on his face. Eliot smirked, another seal. He'd take this man down easily. Teach him what working for a corrupt corporation earned him. It earned him a lesson from Eliot in karma. Screw enough people over and someday it'd come back around, like now, delivered with each strike from Eliot's fists. Another strike had the man on the floor, rolling away from Eliot in an attempt to shield his soft, fleshy parts against the onslaught. Eliot delivered one final blow and the man's body went limp as he fell into unconsciousness.
"Eliot! What are you doing here?" Sophie snapped, the bewildered expression on her face fading away to be replaced by one of pure anger.
"Taking out the bad guys. Just like I always do," he snorted back.
"These guys aren't the people we're after. Hell, for all they know nothing is going on here and this is a normal company."
"They're here, aren't they? Making sure the dirty laundry doesn't see the light of day. That makes them guilty enough."
She sighed, walking over and picking up the wallet that had fallen out of the guard's pocket in the struggle. Flipping it over in her hand, she held it up for Eliot to see, "Yes, definitely looks like a two-bit criminal to me. Why, all the criminals I know keep pictures of their two little bright-eyed girls and their dog in their wallets. Want me to strip search him to find the cocaine next?"
Eliot cast his gaze to the floor at that.
But Sophie wasn't finished with him yet, "This man? He's a regular person just like the rest of us. Trying to navigate his way through the world and support his family along the way. What's gotten into you tonight? You've been on edge ever since our last job."
Yeah, ever since his last fight, he thought. He reminded himself that this was how it always was, jittery before a mission, adrenalin-hyped during, and jittery afterwards. Sophie was being paranoid; she was so sensitive to this fighting stuff. He hadn't done any different this time, had he?
She dropped the wallet at Eliot's feet, face up so that he would get a good glance at the family photos, "That's the man you just broke the arm on and probably put out of work for several weeks at least."
It was just another con they'd just finished. Just another con with another bad guy to be taken out. His mind flashed back to a fist connecting to his face sending a shockwave through his skull and down along the spine. A crowd spearing forward in a circle around the ring, jeering, screaming manically as his eyes had darted back and forth. He could've beaten that fighter at any moment, he'd known that the moment he had tested the man's defenses. Instead, he'd restrained himself and allowed fist after fist to pummel his face, his ribs, and his arms. He'd allowed himself to be witless prey for a mediocre predator. Yeah, it had just been another con; he snorted. Only difference was his role had been a seal instead of a shark. But this mission and the ones to come, he'd make up for that. He'd be the weapon that put the bad guys down. He was a shark. He threw one more look at the bloody, unconscious man behind him, snatched the gun off the floor from where he'd discarded it earlier, and jogged out of the building after Sophie.
-------------------------------------
“These guys don't fight because they like hurting other people, alright? They fight to get some sort of control over their opponent, over their environment, over their lives. Have you seen this town? Huh? The farms are drying up. The only shops are bail bondsmen and pawn shops and there's nothing they can do about it. So yeah, they get in the ring and try not to let it all suffocate them.“
-Eliot, speaking to Sophie on the true motivation for fighting against a well-matched opponent
-------------------------------------
"You sent him home, right?" Sophie asked as she sank into a conference chair across from Nate.
The man nodded, "Yeah. The stuff you pulled out of that safe is enough to at least pique the government's interest in their business practices. We'll need a bit more to get them hooked though."
Sophie folded her hands, "That's great, but I'm talking about Eliot here. He's not here, right?"
"No, I sent everyone else home. You said you wanted to chat in private."
"I appreciate it," Sophie responded. She paused for a second there, deciding where to start, "Has anything seemed off with Eliot since we got back from our last job, or is it just me?"
Nate swirled his drink around a few times, the ice chinking against the glass, before taking a swig as he thought for a moment, "No, not really. Why do you ask?"
Sophie sighed, "He was brutal tonight to that guard that was doing his job and investigating a hunch of his."
Nate shrugged, "He took him down; that's his job. We needed to get you and him out of there before he managed to raise the alarm."
Sophie shook her head, and snapped her fingers, motioning for him to pass her his drink. Nate rolled his eyes but slid it down along the polished table. She caught it and raised it to her own lips. If there was a conversation that called for a drink, this was certainly it. "You're wrong. Normally he's...restrained. Tonight it was like something had just loosened all of his anger and frustration and he channeled it into beating the guard up. He took it far beyond what was necessary to incapacitate the man."
Nate rubbed the back of his head, "You're sure about this? This isn't some small accusation you're making here. You're saying Eliot was deliberately brutal. It just doesn't sound like him."
"I understand the implications of what I'm suggesting, it's not pretty. I know, I watched him break a man's arm tonight."
Nate sighed, "I guess we just keep an eye on him for now. If something's up, we'll see to it. But maybe he just had an off night; the last con was a pretty hard one on Eliot in particular."
Sophie nodded, "Ok, I'll trust you on this. But Nate, what happened tonight cannot happen again."
Continue to Part 2
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