Work Text:
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” the security guard growled. “Who. Do. You. Work. For?”
He punctuated each word with a swift blow to Eliot’s ribs.
The hitter, handcuffed to a metal folding chair, doubled over in pain. “I already told you,” he wheezed. “I volunteer for PETA.”
The guard grabbed him by the collar of his work shirt. “Activists aren’t this sloppy,” he taunted as he waved a cheap button-cam in his face.
Hardison observed the exchange with intense discomfort. “Look, man,” he said nervously. “I, uh, I know this is only my second day on the job. But isn’t this a bit much? I thought we were just glorified doormen for a joint that makes turkey bacon.”
The guard turned toward him.
“Industrial espionage is neither tolerated nor forgiven within this facility,” he explained. “Whenever we catch folks like this idiot over here, we send them back to their employers with a stern warning, written in black and blue… and I’m not talking about ink.”
Hardison choked down the rest of his objection. “Understood. Proceed.”
Eliot made a strained noise that the hacker immediately recognized as an interpolation of “Dammit, Hardison.”
The guard – unaware of their ruse – resumed his assault. Two well-placed punches later, Eliot finally “confessed” to working for a rival corporation.
“Please,” he begged. “I’ve told you everything I know. Just let me go.”
His entire demeanor – defeated voice, labored breathing – was perfectly on-script. Perhaps a little too much, Hardison feared as he was ordered to escort him out of the building.
“Why do you always set yourself up for this crap?” he whispered into Eliot’s ear, moments before shoving him through an unlocked emergency exit.
“So the rest of you don’t have to,” Eliot ground out as he stumbled into the loading bay.