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.

But Damien wanted to own him. Likely he thought that by getting Eliot to cross what scruples he had left would break him into something Damien could fashion and keep.

The joke was on Damien though; Eliot was already broken.

When he'd drained the bottle Eliot returned to the counter. He'd finish the job given to him. There wasn't another option. But he could prepare. Resolve stiffened Eliot's spine. This would be his last job for Damien.

If he did the job and left, with only the bare minimum of his own supplies, Damien wouldn't have anything to hang over his head besides wounded pride. Hopefully that wouldn't be enough to waste resources by placing a hit on Eliot. It helped that, at the moment, Eliot was too familiar with Damien's empire for Damien to feel safe in his own room if he thought Eliot would try to off him in retaliation. It would be a very tentative balance, one that Damien had the resources to tip in his favor if he wanted. However, if Eliot didn't interfere with Damien's network there would be no need for retribution.

Mind made up, Eliot caged his emotions behind an iron wall and turned his attention back to the file. Such a so-called blight to Damien's name meant a public, yet untraceable, response. Damien wanted people cowed and too afraid to try anything.

There were ways to make a statement, ways Eliot had utilized on previous targets, but with the kids' involvement Eliot wasn't going to resort to any of those. Damien might have given them as targets, but Eliot was the one carrying it out. They wouldn't suffer. That much Eliot could control. However, with that mindset he had limited options to satisfy Damien.

He could take the sniper route, targeting the kids first. Thinking through the logistics of that, Eliot mental shook his head. Four targets, regardless of Eliot's proficiency with firearms, left too much time for any of the family members to panic and cause unwarranted trauma before their inevitable deaths. No, something that took them all at once would be better. For the family and for Eliot's conscience.

An incident with either the house or in the vehicle would be best. Eliot could rig the car, but he had no guarantee when the whole family would ride together next. He had no desire to take out the family, then take out the man after the fact. Probably a selfish motive, but Eliot didn't want to look into the eyes of a man whose children he'd murdered. That left the house as the best option.

Carbon monoxide poisoning would have been Eliot's preferred method; quick, painless, slipping away in their sleep. It wouldn't satisfy Damien's pride and bloodlust, though. That left an explosion or fire of some sort.

Eliot looked over the house schematics. It was located in a suburb, enough lawn space that a controlled explosion wouldn't affect the neighbors' houses. They used gas to heat the house. With autumn taking night temperatures down toward freezing, it had to be in use.

That would be his in.

Three nights later Eliot watched orange flames light up the night sky. Sirens shrieked but there was no saving the house or its inhabitants. Eliot had made sure of that. He drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, debating his next move. Deciding on a course of action and actually doing it were two different things. His duffel bag sat next to him. With the job done, he didn't need to go back.

If he did, Eliot knew he'd never get out.

Determinedly Eliot snapped his cell phone open, dialing a number that had never been written down. It connected on the first ring. "It's done."

"So I saw in the news. Your delivery is perfect as ever." Damien paused, "Meet me in my study. I have a proposition for you-"

"I'm done."

Stunned silence met Eliot's words. He didn't know if anyone had ever interrupted Damien before.

"What do you mean, 'done'?"

"You know what I mean."

"Not even if I offer you the head of my security?"

"No." Eliot was very thankful he hadn't known that before making his decision. The position was lucrative, but he'd never have been able to get away from Damien then, more so than if he'd continued as a lackey.

"You're serious." Damien said it as a statement rather than a question.

"Bye Damien." Eliot snapped his phone in half and took a deep breath.

The man had to be angry, not many people could tell Damien no and walk away alive. However, Eliot still didn't think Damien would put a hit on him. Eliot knew too much about Damien's tactics, and as much as Eliot didn't want Damien for an enemy, Eliot's reputation had almost as much weight behind it. Especially now.

Not many people would be willing to try coming after him, no matter the incentive. Eliot would be sleeping with one eye open for a while though, just to be sure.

There'd been a lot he couldn't control in his life, but if Eliot's reputation as the best retrieval specialist meant anything anymore, he wasn't going to be backed into corners over jobs he had to accept.

Several years later

"We're going after Damian Moreau."

If Eliot had been any less self controlled he would have recoiled from the table. This had to be some sick joke. He had done everything in his power to stay off that man's radar, and keep his new family off it too. Now Nate wanted to go straight for the rattlesnake?

That time of his life he'd buried so deep as to never see the light of day again. Even Hardison hadn't picked it up during the background check the younger man most definitely ran on him. The chatterbox would have said something by now, other than just listing Moreau's crimes. At the time the only ones who knew he'd worked for Moreau were those he worked alongside under the man. Through the tabs he'd kept on Moreau, Eliot knew the number had exponentially decreased in the years he'd since he'd left.

"He moves money for the North Koreans, stolen artifacts for Iraq, nuclear materials for Iran." Eliot added to the growing verbal list of Moreau's endeavors.

In the face of so many protests Nate eventually backed down, telling them it wasn't actually his idea to go after Moreau.

Eliot understood more than what Nate was saying about the blackmailing. The Italian woman who'd managed to hide in the second level of this apartment- without his knowledge, which angered and shook him to no end- likely threatened himself, Sophie, Parker, and Hardison directly though Nate hadn't gone into the details. No other reason would make Nate do something so suicidal. Still, Eliot couldn't stand the thought of any of the group getting close to Moreau, regardless of how insurmountable a task it would prove, even without the proper 'motivation.'

"We can't go directly at Moreau. He'll vaporize us." With Moreau's resources that wasn't even an exaggeration. Eliot didn't think he could talk Nate out of this, but he could try.

A vein throbbed on Nate's forehead. Good. He wasn't as cavalier about this as he appeared. "We help people. That's what we do. It's just. . . some of the people will get us close to Moreau."

Because poking a hornet's nest was the best way to deal with the problem. Eliot clenched back the words he wanted to spit out. Hardison said something about the client list that Eliot only half listened to. That seemed to be good enough for Sophie and Parker. Everyone stood, making ready for whatever their next con would be.

Eliot's gaze flicked to Nate. He debated pulling him aside for a conversation. The closer they got to Moreau, the more likely Eliot's past would spill out in a way he couldn't control. If he said something now to Nate the older man would help him run damage control. Nate would understand Eliot's past more than the others. Sophie wasn't used to getting her hands dirty on the con. Hardison and Parker were young and, despite being master thieves in their own right, weren't hardened from living with blood on their hands.

But. . . Eliot shoved back his chair. Working for Moreau was the darkest part of Eliot's life. A part he had no desire to relive. So he headed out the door to his own apartment knowing all too well it would come out eventually (unless he could get a shot at Moreau- which Eliot seriously doubted). He might lose them all, once the others learned the truth, but if they were alive he would be able to live with that.

Eliot was no longer just a hitter, an enforcer. He was a protector. He would keep his family safe- no matter the personal cost.

If you're into stories about "looks like he could kill you, but is actually a tortured cinnamon roll (who could still kill you)" the Eleven Alliance series, by indie author Tara Grayce, has a main character who reminded me much of Eliot. Definitely recommend checking it out (no paid endorsement, just lots of love for warriors who actually need lots of hugs XD)