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Title: Not the Italian Job, Part One
Author: [livejournal.com profile] thisfishflies
Wordcount: ~1k, WIP
Charcaters/Ships: Hardison, Eames, Arthur this part.
Spoilers: Post-movie for Inception. Pre-series for Leverage. Slight spoilers, perhaps.
Summary: Hardison knows some forgers. They didn't meet in a chat room.
Notes: IDEK how I wrote all of this. And how I am still going. Just... yeah. The timelines might be a bit skewered, but that always happens for me. No beta yet, but I'll fix it up pretty before posting to a comm or something.




When Hardison mentioned he knew some good forgers, what he really meant was he knew a good forger. Eames.

They met when they were both on jobs. Hardison was undercover. Well,as undercover as he got back when he was working alone. He managed to get himself hired as the security consultant for a large hedge fund company. Hardison had the job of checking the whole system for back doors and weaknesses. He found them all, too. It's just that, while he was doing that, he was using the secure server to hack into a secondary company owned by the CEO, one Brian Jennings. A man who made it big with venture capital and then moved on to more reliable practices. Hardison wanted what was hidden in his venture company.

The few times he met with the CEO, Hardison noticed a man not on the corporate website. When he asked, everyone had a slightly different story as to who he was. When Hardison snuck a look at his file, he found statements of him being an employee for months.

There was still nothing about him on the computer. Hardison watched him, and worked faster.

His papers said he was Charles Croker, but he looked nothing like Michael Caine. Or Mark Wahlberg. It was so ridiculously fake that everyone would believe it was real. The British accent also seemed to give him some leeway.

The day before Hardison gains control over the side company, it happens. He leaves his fake job late,making sure he is the last one out and doing the old “tape over the door” trick so he can sneak back in in a few hours. Hardison waves to the security guard and plods his way to the subway. It's dark and empty. It always gave Hardison goosebumps, being this alone and out in the open. He was only going to get off at the next stop, so he just turned on his music and stared at his phone, watching the numbers change. If there was antone in the car with him, he did not see them.

He was in a cubicle and his chair has no lumbar support at all.

“... and I need the data by tomorrow.” The blonde behind him finished with a smile. Hardison's eyes jumped to her face, away from where they were previously staring at her boobs.

“Yeah,” he replied in a way that showed he had totally been paying attention all along.

The woman smiled in a way that was more like a grimace. “You see what I mean, right? Can you get those files for me? I can't reset my password until IT answers my email, and you know how long that will take.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Hardison smile and he quickly turned around. Computers. Yeah, he could get anything out of the computer. He quickly typed out his login and password, but nothing came up. In fact, the screen showed his password, not the asterisks that normally showed up. Something was wrong here. Ignoring it, he hit enter anyway. A screen showed up, with a picture of him and a dog on the beach for a background. That picture was fake- he had photoshopped it himself to try and score a date with the secretary on the job he was working.

The job that did not have him in a cubicle. Consultants didn't work in cubicles.

The building shook. A man pushing a mail cart ran down the hall and slammed his cart into the blonde woman. She didn't shout out in pain, or do anything but let out a breath. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. The windows shattered outwards and the metal beams creaked. Without warning, the ceiling crashed down.


With a jolt, Hardison wakes up. He is still on the subway. Charles Croker is across from him and another man is at his side. Pointing a gun at Hardison.

“Why did the dream collapse?” the man with the gun asks Charles.

“Well,if I knew that, it wouldn't have? Are you sure it wasn't your information that was wrong?”

“Woah woah woah!” Hardison exclaims, raising his arms (there's a IV in one, he hardly registers the pinch). “Do I know y'all? And do guns really have to be a part of this? If you want money or something, we can just talk about this.”

The two men exchange something in a glance. The gun lowers slightly and the man addresses Hardison. “Mr. Lucas, you'll have to come with us for a little bit. This is a... delicate situation.”

Hardison doesn't blink at the fake name and decides to compile. His Nana always told him to never mess with men with guns.



When they leave the subway, Charles is in the front and the man with the gun is following closely behind Hardison. Hardison is herded into a car with dark windows. Typical. Ideas are flying through his mind, but each of them hinges on him being able to mess with his phone without anyone noticing it. The air is tense and the silence in the car is overwhelming. Hardison swears he can hear his heartbeat, and thinks that his typing would be just as loud. He tucks that idea away for later.

By the time he had run every Star Trek escape through his head, they had arrived at a dark warehouse, one of many identical buildings. Hardison was going to be killed, he was sure, and his body hidden under some pallets and never found again. This was the time to run, his instincts shouted, but nothing could make him break away when that gun still pointed at him.

The warehouse was bright. There were some desks and... lounge chairs? Clearly Hardison had already been shot and now he was just hallucinating. But, yes, they chairs were real he discovered as the gunman forced him to sit.

“Uh, so, were you guys hired by Mr. Jennings?” Hardison asked. “Because I haven't even completed my data mining and I haven taken anything yet, so I'd say this was an over-reaction.”

“Arthur! He's a fake, a crook,” Charles laughed, pointing at Hardison.

The man with the gun-Arthur, just glared. “Eames. I figured that out. Stop laughing. This is your mistake as much as it is mine.”

“Your name isn't Charlie Croker!” Hardison crows. The echo he sends across the mostly empty warehouse quiets him. But he fidgets a bit when he sees that Arthur's gun is nowhere to be seen. Hardison clears his throat. “So. As I'm not who you think I am, and you are... someone else, how can we fix this.”

Eames shifts backwards, leaning onto a desk. “Well, Lucas- actually, what is your name? It's not Greg Lucas, is it?”

Hardison smiles. “Naw man. Hardison, at your service. As long as you don't shoot me,” he says, glancing at Arthur. Arthur just looked dismayed, and as if everything was out of his hands.

Eames continued, “Well Hardison, it's like this- we need to steal Jennings' financial information from your dreams.”

Date: 2010-09-02 04:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] neierathima.livejournal.com
ooooh.

i want them to be buddies!

and for the leverage crew to work with the inception crew, obv.

<3

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August 2011

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