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.
This one is sort of a transition sequence; I had to get him back to the beginning…
Fade in from commercial: first sound, heels clicking on the floor, then a redheaded woman in an expensive business suit. She’s holding something in her hand – a smart phone? a remote control? Eliot’s vision is blurring in and out; he blinks a few times and we see a button right under her thumb.
“This is how this is going to work.” Her voice is faint; she opens a window in the front of Eliot’s box, maybe three feet wide by two feet tall. “You are going to do what I say. Everything I say, when I say it. And you are going to respond to anything I say with ‘yes, Lady Alessia.’ Do you understand?”
Eliot blinks again and his vision is clear. “Fuck you, Lady Alessia.” His voice comes out like a grunt, raw and pained. An electric zapping sound fills the room. Eliot grunts again, louder and clearly more pained. “The fuck?”
“It’s a training collar. You’re a difficult case, or so they’ve told me, but I have the perfect place for you. Now, come on out of that box, nice and slowly.”
“I’m cuffed – ow, fuck!”
“You’re cuffed, what?”
Eliot glares balefully at her. Her finger is lingering over the button, however. “I’m cuffed, Lady Alessia. Really?”
“Really. If you’re going to be a slave in Tír na Cali, you’re going to have to learn the rules… oh, dear.” She steps back delicately as Eliot slides out of the small opening, landing on his feet despite his bindings. “As I was saying. You’re going to have to learn the rules.”
“Fuck you… Lady Alessia.” This time, he doesn’t even grunt as the shock goes through him. She keeps shocking him until he falls unconscious.
“You are going to make a lovely gift for my sister.”
“I’m not anybody’s gift, not yours or your bitch sister.” Eliot has been in better moods.
She slaps him this time, instead of shocking him, her claws raking across his cheek, barely missing his eye and his mouth. A drop of blood trickles out.
“Now remember to behave until I hand you over.” He has pants on; that’s a start. Not much of a start, since they are so sheer as to nearly be see-through, but it’s something.
“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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