![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
peppymint1986 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
everybodyrec2Title: The Vanished Voyeur Job
Author: SANTAR, OF THE HILL PEOPLE
Written for:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.3)
fractured_sun
Crossover: Highlander, Leverage
Characters: Methos, Duncan, Amanda, Eliot, Hardison, Parker, Joe, Nate, assorted bit players.
Rating: PG
Summary: Someone has kidnapped the wrong people. Someone else (several of them) is not happy about it.
Preview:
“No. No. NO. I won’t calm down. You vanish, and then Eliot and Parker disappear into the last rundown dump of an Irish bar in Seacouver...it’s like From Dusk ‘Til Dawn with shamrocks. I have a guy who calls himself Pale Rider tapping on my window with a broadsword, and you want me to calm down?”
“If you wanted a broadsword, you should have said so,” Adam obliged. The poniard disappeared, and the long, grey, unforgiving length of a hand and a half blade took it’s place.
Hardison sat as still as petrified wood, the phone glued to his ear, his eyes glued to the sword. Then slowly, and very carefully, he rolled down the window, inch by inch. Just as slowly, he unstuck the phone, and extended it out to the end of his reach.
“It’s for you.”
To Fic
Author: SANTAR, OF THE HILL PEOPLE
Written for:
fractured_sunCrossover: Highlander, Leverage
Characters: Methos, Duncan, Amanda, Eliot, Hardison, Parker, Joe, Nate, assorted bit players.
Rating: PG
Summary: Someone has kidnapped the wrong people. Someone else (several of them) is not happy about it.
Preview:
“No. No. NO. I won’t calm down. You vanish, and then Eliot and Parker disappear into the last rundown dump of an Irish bar in Seacouver...it’s like From Dusk ‘Til Dawn with shamrocks. I have a guy who calls himself Pale Rider tapping on my window with a broadsword, and you want me to calm down?”
“If you wanted a broadsword, you should have said so,” Adam obliged. The poniard disappeared, and the long, grey, unforgiving length of a hand and a half blade took it’s place.
Hardison sat as still as petrified wood, the phone glued to his ear, his eyes glued to the sword. Then slowly, and very carefully, he rolled down the window, inch by inch. Just as slowly, he unstuck the phone, and extended it out to the end of his reach.
“It’s for you.”
To Fic
