Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Reunion Job | Part 1

"ARGHHHH!"

A guttural scream tore from my throat as another surge of electricity ripped through me. My muscles seized, body convulsing against the restraints. The acrid scent of burnt skin filled the air, mixing with the sweat clinging to me like a second layer. My breath came in ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last.

I'd lost track of time. Hours? Days? It didn't matter. The pain was constant, relentless. The wounds across my body throbbed, some fresh, others barely scabbed over before being reopened.

"Where are they, Agent Six?"

The voice was cold, detached. He'd asked the same question a hundred times already. Where are Eight and Fifty-Three?

They had slipped out of the Program's grasp. A miracle. A mistake. A problem that needed solving—at least, that's how they saw it.

I knew where they were. But there was no way in hell I was going to talk.

I forced out a shaky breath, tilting my head up just enough to meet his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking abou—"

White-hot agony.

Another surge. My back arched violently against my will, vision flashing white.

"ARGHHHH!"

My body jerked, the restraints digging into my raw skin as another jolt of electricity coursed through me. My breath came in shallow gasps, my vision swimming. Every nerve in my body screamed for relief, but I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus.

"Where are they?"

The interrogator's voice was eerily calm, but I could hear the frustration beneath it. They were getting desperate.

I swallowed, my throat dry and raw. "Go to hell."

Silence. Then a sigh. The room was dim, the single overhead light casting harsh shadows across the cold concrete walls. I could barely lift my head, but I still caught the slight shift in his stance.

"Enough. This is a waste of time." a new voice commanded. I was too weak to even lift my head in order to see the newcomer.

The pressure on my wrists disappeared as they unshackled me. My body slumped forward, but strong hands caught me before I hit the ground. They weren't feeling that generous.

"Leave her. Let her rot in here for a while, maybe she'll finally learn a lesson or two."

Boots echoed against the floor as they walked out, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind them. Then–

GASP– I bolted upright, my chest heaving. My shirt clung to me, damp with sweat. My hands shook as I ran them through my hair, trying to slow my breathing. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to break through my ribs.

"Fuck."

It took me a second to remember where I was. A bed. My bed. Not a cell, not a torture chair, not back there.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the vibration sharp against the silence. I glanced down, still trying to steady myself. A message from Hardison lit up the screen.

Hardison: New client. Meet at HQ.

I exhaled slowly. Shoving the memory to the back of my mind where it belonged, I swung my legs over the bed and got up.

<>

The door burst open with a deafening crash, splinters flying as armed men stormed into the apartment.