Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Morning After Job | Part 2

Vector stirred awake, groaning slightly as the dull ache of a hangover pulsed through his skull. The morning light filtered in through the blinds, cutting across the disheveled sheets. He shifted, feeling the sting of fresh scratches on his face.

Beside him, Parker lay still, her golden hair sprawled across the pillow.

A slow smirk crept onto his face. "Morning."

No response.

He frowned. "I said, good morning."

Still nothing.

A flicker of unease crawled up his spine. He reached out, rolling her over—

And nearly screamed.

Parker's face was pale, her skin waxy, lips colorless. Her body was eerily still.

His breath hitched. "Whoa! What the... No. No. No, no, no, no, no." His hands shot out, shaking her shoulder, fingers scrambling for a pulse. "Come on, come on, wake up! Don't do this to me!"

But there was nothing.

She was dead.

His mind reeled. His gut twisted.

What the hell happened last night?!

Flashback - The night before

Parker sat cross-legged on the bed, grinning as she handed Vector a drink. He took it, raising the glass slightly before knocking it back in one gulp.

Vector smacked his lips. "Oh, that's, uh..." His voice trailed off as a sluggish haze wrapped around his thoughts. The room tilted. His limbs felt heavier.

From the corner of the room, I stepped forward, emerging from the darkness like a specter. Before he could react, I locked my arm around his throat in a precise chokehold.

Vector struggled, but it was useless—between the sedative and the expertly applied pressure, he was out within seconds. His body slumped against the mattress, unconscious.

I let him drop and exhaled, wasting no time.

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a makeup kit and got to work, applying a pale, lifeless hue to Parker's skin. Darkening the areas around her eyes, draining all signs of warmth. A final touch—a thin layer of false skin over her wrist to mask her pulse.

By the time I was done, Parker looked convincingly, chillingly dead.

Flashback End

Vector's hands were shaking as he fumbled with his phone. His breath came in short, panicked bursts, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He pressed the call button. "Come on, come on... pick up, damn it."

A click. A voice. "Daniel Firestone."

Relief flooded through Vector. "Danny, it's Mark. Listen, uh—" He swallowed hard, glancing at the unmoving form in the bed beside him. "I got a little problem here, pal. Uh, I met this girl last night and—"

Firestone cut him off. "In Japan. Sorry, I can't help you."

Vector blinked. "Japan? What the—"

Static crackled over the line, and then Firestone spoke again.

The Van - Outside McRory's

Hardison smirked, fingers flying over the keyboard.

In the back of the surveillance van, Eliot and I hovered behind him, watching the screen over his shoulder.