It took far too long to find him. You'd think that the seemless crew, including a legendary grifter, the world's best thief, a brilliant hacker, and an untouchable mastermind, could do it easily. A call here, online tracking there, some planning, and the execution should be enough. Just like a routine con.

Only it wasn't a routine con. They were down a member.

Eliot was taken. He was just gone one day. It was no mistake; he'd never just leave, and he wasn't just taken out by an old enemy. He'd never go down without a show.

So they knew it was probably someone that wanted either revenge or a profit. Likely both. Still, he wasn't put up for auction as far as they knew, and no country suspiciously took down their bounty on his head, so this may be personal.

That was not good news.

By the time that they found where he must be being held, months had passed by. Of course they'd taken small jobs along the way, but finding their hitter was always their main focus. It all paid off when Hardison linked together some seemingly unconnected events. Nate never even asked how he did it.

He was being held in war-torn Syria, below the estate of a notorious warlord. The warlord was a man like Damien Moreau - in fact, his close friend - but a criminal with more of a taste for destruction than style. His name was Jalal Akbhan.

The team orchestrated a plan before they left. It would take a lot of work and time to pull this off.

Unfortunately, they didn't pull it off.

Once inside, they were caught. Well, not all of them. Just Nate, who had the most exposed part to play. When the con went to all hell, he went down without a fight. Parker was trapped inside, but safe, relatively speaking. Hardison was at the safe house, running damage control, and Sophie just made it out before her cover was blown, too.

It was a sick twist of fate that Nate was thrown into the same cell as their long lost hitter.

The mastermind was shoved inside and chained at the wall on the opposite side of the room. When the men left, he inspected his new restraints. He was manacled at the wrists, the chains of which were built into the wall.

Now, he looked up at his still teammate.

Eliot was crumpled up in a heap. His hands were chained, too, but there was also a heavy iron collar around his neck, also chained to the wall. His chains were shorter and thicker than Nate's. He'd probably broken out of the first few restraints he'd had.

The wounds beneath the iron were what startled Nate. There were too many to count. Many were already scars. Sickening, debilitating marks left on the once clear and tightly muscled body, now emaciated, pale, and marred. Nate almost couldn't believe it. How could Eliot have been captured and held, carved into like that? How was the world's best retrieval specialist taken down?

The mastermind could no longer let his shocked mind spin on the sight before him. He had to work on a way out.

"Eliot?" He called. "Eliot, wake up."

The hitter didn't stir, but someone did. The cell door was thrown open and four men burst in, yelling in Arabic. They stood around Nate, demanding something of him. Damn. Sterling had always been the one for the harsher languages while Nate had preferred Italian.

Now, Eliot jolted. His breath hitched and his eyes opened. They shot around the scene, and rather than relief or confusion, rage burned in them when he saw Nate. Without missing a beat, he yelled something in Arabic. The men turned on him and laughed. One strode forward, knelt, and grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet his glare. The man holding him in place said something that made the hitter pale. Eliot responded, glancing at Nathan.

The man chuckled, whispered something in his ear, then left with the others. Nate waited until the door was locked before he spoke again.

"What was that?"

Eliot settled back gingerly against the cold stone wall.

"Eliot."

The hitter lifted his gaze to meet Nate's. He looked tired.

"Talk to me."

The bone-weary man shrugged. "Why?"

Eliot's voice sounded weird. He had an accent.

Eliot rolled his eyes when he saw Nate's confusion. "Yeah, my voice is gonna sound funny. Ain't spoken English in a while. Forgot the feeling." There was no hint of accusation in his tone, but Nate flinched.

"We meant to find you sooner. It took months to-"

"Get yourselves locked up in a warlord's dungeons?" His eyes darkened. "You get them killed, Nate?"

"No. Parker's trapped, but the others are safe."

Eliot didn't look any less... angry? Disgruntled? Anxious?

"Right. And you thought coming here was a good idea because...?"

Nate raised his eyebrows. "We had to come for you."

"Shouldn'a. Damn it," The hitter winced when his voice cracked. His throat must have been unbearably dry to make his voice hoarse like that. "Damn it, Nate, you should'a protected 'em. I can't do that anymore. With you out of the picture too, how's Parker gonna get out?" Eliot narrowed his eyes. "They're all going down, comin' for us."

"Don't pull the lone wolf act, you know we had no other choice."

"We're criminals, Nate!" Eliot barked. "If there's anything they can do, it's to get over it."

"And you're so rational, hmm?"

"Only reason I'm alive." Eliot replied quietly.

"Right. So, what happened when they came in, what did they say?"

"Nothing important."

"I need to know everything to figure out a plan."

"It was just threats, nothing you could use."

"And yet I'm the one that leads a team. I have to know everything."

"You know what? I'm tired of demands. I can do my job. Hell, I've been doing it since I got here. So get off your high horse, Nate, and pick a side. You wanna risk the team and order me around, go out and pick up an AK-47 with them. Otherwise, let me be."