This is … what happens when you let me watch an entire season of Leverage in a week and a half. *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.
It’s written in an experimental style for me, and, well, it’s fanfic, so pls. be kind.
Alec Hardison levels a gun at a pretty redhead; her eyes narrow. Behind Hardison, Eliot shouts out. A glint of gold can be seen around his neck.
The redhead moves.
Three weeks earlier
“And that’s when she left me.” The man has been crying into his whiskey for an hour, while Eliot keeps the drinks coming and pretended to be interested. “And she took the Molier.”
This is the piece of information that they’ve been waiting for. “Damn, man.” Eliot shakes his head in sympathy. “Damn, that’s hard.”
The drunk is patting his pockets. “Got a light?”
“Yeah, but you can’t smoke in here. Come on, I’ll join you.” He tilts his head towards the back porch.
They step out onto the porch, the only ones out there. It’s a Tuesday night, and the bar was nearly empty to begin with; a few nudges cleared it out. There’s nobody to interfere with –
Eliot never sees who hits him with the tranq dart. The dart lands; he shoves the mark out of the way. “Nate?” He pulls the dart out. “Nate, I’m hit. I’m…”
Not even an elephant tranq should be that fast-acting. He goes down on top of the mark, swearing into the com.
Location: Deep in Tír na Cali.
Time: Four days later
“Now remember to behave until I hand you over.” The woman was gorgeous – red hair like a flame, body sleek like an athlete, dressed like a businesswoman. Her eyes are pale, her smile painted-on, and her nails are very sharp, which Eliot has had cause to learn, if the lines across his face are any indication.
He is wearing, in addition to her claw-marks, a very thick metal collar, shackles just as thick, and thin pants that don’t suit him.
“Behave.” He snarls it, half an agreement, half a question, but does not move. The redhead still tut-tuts at him.
“I did say behave.” She pushes a button waiting in her hand. A buzzing zzap fills the air, brief but loud. Eliot clenches his jaw, refusing to shudder.
Cut to commercial.
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