Moreau's Revenge - 002

[master_moreau]

Moreau let other people underestimate Eliot. If they got themselves killed it wasn't his problem. Granted, he had underestimated Eliot as well. His men had let him down. But that was behind him now. More or less. The Russian's still owed him. Having them pick up Eliot just saved him the trouble of loosing men or of Eliot catching on before it was

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[distinctive_guy]

[distinctive_guy]

Of course, Moreau knew him well enough to know what Eliot meant. And answered it just to humor him. Still, the answer was something he was slightly grateful for. It didn't mean he was less screwed, was more so in fact, but at least he didn't have another innocent life was on his head. For now.

Whatever relief he felt fled at what the bastard said next. It drove a disbelieving snort from the retrieval specialist. "That ain't ever gonna happen, Moreau." Growling, he met that arrogant expression square on with a bravado he didn't feel. "We're through. We've been through since Belgrade."

[master_moreau]

"Yes, we were even after Belgrade." Moreau seemed to agree as he nodded slowly, another minor tilt of his head to acknowledge the truth in Eliot's words.

"But you betrayed me, Eliot. Tried to con me. Me. With your little team. That was the real surprise. You, working on a team. It was almost sweet." He met the arrogant expression with little change to his own, letting that disappointment show in the raise of his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his lips. "I do not take kindly to being tricked and lied to, Eliot. You know that better than most."

[distinctive_guy]

Yeah, he did, didn't he? After all, he certainly helped Moreau enough with those problems back in the days when they were on friendly terms. Just thinking about it made him sick.

"What do you want, Moreau?" Yet here Eliot was, bound and chained up like a pig about to be butchered. If the man wanted his revenge, there wasn't much he could do to prevent it.

Yet. Eliot's arms felt like they were on fire and his shoulders about to dislocate. But while talking, he stretched his burning fingers up and was relieved to know at least he finally regained some semblance of control over his numbed limbs, only that they felt like they were being stuffed into searing coals.

[master_moreau]

The reply to that question was simple. There were two things Damien Moreau wanted. Well. One and one with two options. He wanted Eliot back. The man was a deadly weapon, and the best at what he did. Nothing about that had changed, as evidenced by the swathe he had cut into Moreau's men. If he couldn't get Eliot back, he wanted him bent and broken until that wasn't true anymore.

"Nate Ford." The two words were the only spoken reply Eliot was getting for the moment. For the first time since he set foot into that dark, dank cellar, a flash of rage ignited behind Moreau's eyes. The glass in his hand threatening to break.

[distinctive_guy]

The answer took Eliot aback although it really shouldn't have. Nate was the one who lead the team against Moreau in San Lorenzo, went face to face with him and gloated over their victory. So, given that personal humiliation, Eliot shouldn't have been surprised at all that Moreau wanted Nate.

That Moreau thought Eliot would give him the answer though, that was what surprised him. It was insulting really, enough to make Eliot laugh. "And you'll, what? Let me go in exchange? You're not doin' a real good job convincin' me."

His hands felt less like they were stuck through the garbage disposal and a bit more like functional parts of him. He reached his fingers up and felt them brush against the chain holding the manacles.

[master_moreau]

There was a slow, soft laugh from Moreau as he fixed his tie, taking a few steps away to the side to set his glass down and roll up his sleeves. He took his time in every action he took. Damien was in no hurry.

"Oh, no Eliot. I know you much better than that. I have no delusions you would ever give them up, no matter how much torture you went through first." He smiled at Eliot, like an old friend, watching, waiting.

"But they seem quite fond of you, that little team of yours." He knew the implications would occur to Eliot. As well as he knew Eliot Spencer, the hitter knew Damien Moreau. Knew what the man was capable of and willing to do. There were not many limits to the second, and while there were more to the first, it was still not a small list in any way.

[distinctive_guy]

Something cold and sick fell to the pits of Eliot's stomach at that lilting taunt Moreau presented. Whatever it was stayed there, slithering all dark and ugly while making the hitter feel fear like he hadn't up until now.

"Just what did you mean by that?!" he demanded, not even bothering to hide how worked up he was from the little dropped hint. Moreau obviously knew how to play him, so there was no point in hiding his emotions on the matter. When there were so many possible implications and none of them good, he had a good reason to be concerned.

[master_moreau]

"In due time." No, he wouldn't give those answers to Eliot. Let his imagination fill in the blanks. Moreau was glad to see he did still know how the hitter thought. In the past, he would not have played Eliot quite this strongly, but despite his outer exterior of calm, collected cruelty, there was vengeful rage boiling beneath the surface.

Eliot he could forgive. They knew each other. Despite his betrayal, he still considered Eliot valuable. If he could gain a measure of control over Eliot again, he would almost be willing to allow the talented hitter some measure of trust once more. Just not until he had extracted his revenge. No one pulled a con on Damien Moreau.

"You had a long flight in, and it would be rude of me to overload an old friend with so much new information so shortly after that." He idly gestured with his hand as he made his way to the door, pulling it open without a backward glance. "Pleasure seeing you again, Eliot."

[distinctive_guy]

[master_moreau]

[distinctive_guy]