Whumptober 2021

# 30) Ghosts of the Past- Leverage

Prompt #30- Digging your own grave. (I took this metaphorically). Leverage S3 introspection of Eliot's past choices and current consequences

Eliot skimmed the file in his hand. He'd been doing his job, and excelling at it, too long to let something like a conscience have any say, but the long forgotten remains of his rose in protest. Nothing showed, though, not with Damien's gaze resting heavily on him.

Keeping his face impassive, Eliot looked up at his employer. "When do you want this done?"

"As soon as possible. You understand, I'm sure, that this sort of thing must be dealt with quickly to avoid anyone else getting ideas."

Damien's plan to deal with this sort of thing went entirely beyond what was necessary, and both men knew it. However, it wasn't Eliot's place to ask questions or make suggestions. His role, and really his life if he wanted to get technical, hinged on following Damien's orders.

"I can have it done within the week."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Damien flashed a feral grin. He left, calling over his shoulder, "The armory is on standby to give you anything you need."

Eliot didn't let his posture slump even after Damien closed the door behind him. He'd found the bugs and cameras in his apartment on his second day there. At the time there'd been no reason to make Damien suspicious by tampering with them, and up until now no reason to mess with them.

The file weighed heavily in his hands. With force nonchalance he tossed it on the counter. The picture on top stared back at him. A San Lorenzon man who'd dared protest Damian's presence in their government. . . and his pregnant wife with their young son and daughter. The kids couldn't have been much older than five and three.

Eliot spun toward the fridge. Yanking a beer out with more force than necessary, he nursed it over to his plush couch. He couldn't let himself care. Not now. It might have been more of an understanding than an actual drawn up contract, but if Eliot refused at that moment his own picture would be on several others' hit list. Although, at this point in his line of work there'd be few willing to try to take him out- even if many wanted to. However, while Eliot lived in Damien's compound his word was law.

Despite his reputation for using fists first, brain second, Eliot wasn't stupid. One didn't survive long in his skill set otherwise. Damien had lured him in with soft balls. Sure the jobs were high profile and dangerous, but not for one of Eliot's caliber. Once Eliot agreed to work for Damien that changed quickly. In particular the last six months the tasks had ramped up, leaving Eliot with more blood on his hands than all his previous jobs combined. Damien didn't just want the most proficient security, he wanted his own personal attack dog.

'Assassin.' The word clawed Eliot's mind. He preferred the term 'retrieval specialist.' Whether that retrieval was goods, intel, persons of interest. . . Yes, he'd been sent to kill some of his targets over the years. Eliot had long since accepted his role in the world, but lurking in the shadows picking out targets through a scope wasn't something he could reconcile with the fragmented remains of his conscience. He preferred to face his marks head on. It gave most of them the illusion of a chance, even if they never stood one.

Eliot had been doing wet work for a long time. He'd seen and done most of what came with it. There weren't many lines he hadn't- or hadn't been willing to- cross. That didn't mean there weren't any left.

No kids.

Probably his only line remaining, but one Eliot had been adamant about. People had stopped asking after Eliot took out the few who'd tried to hire him for any underage jobs. Everyone, including Damien, knew his stance.