Moreau's Revenge - 003
It was the second day since Eliot Spencer had been more or less dragged back into Damien Moreau's grip. They were dangerous men. Criminals. The main difference seemed to be that while Moreau had no qualms over the innocent blood he had spilled to get to where he had been before Nate Ford came along, Eliot seemed to have more of a problem with it.
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He knew what the other man was capable of, and Eliot knew what he was capable of. Between the two of them there had always been an understanding of those facts. Neither one pushing that extra step. When Eliot walked away, Moreau only pushed so far before he backed off, their meeting by the pool had held that same tension. Now they had both crossed those lines. It was no longer a pacing match between two lions, staring each other down, waiting to see the exposed weak spots, getting ready for the pounce. That time had ended long ago. Neither of them could afford to lose this battle, and while Moreau currently held the upper hand, he held no illusions that Eliot was less dangerous for the chains holding him there. If anything, the hitter was more dangerous now that he was trapped.
"Oh, don't worry my old friend. We will both see each other again down there, some day, but neither of us is going there just yet. You will have plenty of time to change your mind."
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He didn't try anything as the other circled him, moving in and out of his field of view like an annoying fly that wouldn't stay still. His chains didn't rattle, his feet stayed still, but he had no doubt Moreau would be reassured by his apparent complicity. If anything, the master criminal would be wary because Eliot was bidding his time; Moreau knew him too well.
Shifting slightly to change the distribution of pressure, Eliot didn't bother hiding his impatient glare. "Hangin' around you kinda sucks nowadays." Unfortunately, Eliot knew Moreau too, and he knew exactly the type of convincing the man used to get things his way.
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His eyes narrowed as he measured the distance between his feet and Moreau's spindly neck. He slowly reached his hands up to quietly gripped the chains above his manacles without rattling anything. "Guess that means I'll be here for a while."
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"It already is happening, as we speak," His tone was dismissive, calmer than Damien Moreau truly felt. Months of planning for his revenge had only served to make him more aware of just how much hatred he held for the Leverage team. His face remained as impassive as ever, but somewhere behind the cold front his eyes displayed, an angry fire raged. "But you are right, Eliot. You will be here for quite some time."
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Tell him something he didn't know. Eliot judged the distance again, approximating that while Moreau was careful to dance outside of his range, he was still underestimating Eliot's reach. And what the hitter was willing to do for his team when cornered.
His fingers wrapped tightly around the chains above him and without warning, he hefted his weight up by the chains. Legs lifting off the ground horizontally in a move that would have done Olympic gymnasts proud, Eliot scissored out at Moreau's neck. The tips of his boots just brushed the vulnerable flesh but couldn't get a good hook in for a wrap around, and in a last minute twist, he used his heavy heel to smash Moreau's face instead. At least the move won't be wasted.
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His eyes burned with the fire that had only been dancing behind them. If he knew Eliot a little less, if he had a little less control over himself, he would have been on the hitter in seconds, fists flying.
No. He had someone else for this. Someone who could take the risk of having his neck snapped besides himself. Besides. Cole was just so very good at it.
"I think you have our little arrangement backwards, Eliot." His voice ground out, holding that rage in every word this time as he opened the door, letting Holden in. He could feel fire burning under his skin as he nodded to the other man, one hand still on his nose. He leaned in, free hand on the man's shoulder and his voice a barely audible growl. "No permanent damage. I still need him."
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As Moreau squeaked out his commands in that pained nasal voice, Eliot's attention shifted to the sniper. The man poised more danger at the moment than Moreau did, and although the crime boss held the chains, Eliot had no doubt it was a loose leash the man worked with.
So perhaps he was getting a little worried.
He narrowed his eyes even as he smirked with bravado. "'Bout time we started. I was gettin' bored with all this talk."
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"Oh I'll make sure to keep you from getting bored, Spencer." Holden shut the door behind himself, glancing sideways at it briefly when he heard the sounds of it being locked from the other side. Well. Moreau had always been cautious. That shouldn't have surprised him.
"Nice shot, by the way. I love it. Keep that up." The angrier Damien Moreau was, the more likely it was he would let Cole in, and he had a lot of past issues to work out with Eliot, too. Difference was, he wasn't big on talking.
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"Oh, there's plenty more where that came from," he answered with a challenging grin. If it made Cole angry, then Eliot can take advantage of the sniper's unbalanced frame of mind.
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Cole kept his pace slow, relaxed, picking up a piece of broken chair from the floor and testing the weight of the wood in his hand. Shaking his head he tossed it back to the floor, cracking his knuckles. Normally his temper flared so easily, but the very fact that Eliot was chained up in the darkness sent a thrill of cruel amusement through the sniper. This was where Eliot belonged. Chained like a dog.
"Looking forward to it." A kick to the gut would be worth it, he decided, and those last few steps were taken with sudden speed and the hope that it was enough of a surprise to get in the first hit.
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When the attack first came, Eliot's first instinct was to jump back to dodge, yet as he moved, he felt the tug of the chains in his arms warning they've reached their length and therefore anchoring him in place. Cole's kick was too far in for him to block it by then, so Eliot just turned in he last minute to take it in the side. Experience had him relaxing into it to absorb it the damage rather than tensing up and taking more, but in the end, it still hurt.
He coughed once, and as soon as he caught his breath, he tried to retaliate with a kick of his own. "How's it lookin' now?"
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