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serious-face

vdistinctive


What, was "Rudy" on cable last night?

. . . Yes.


75 Godiva Street, Sunday afternoon
bespectacled grouch-face, angled grouch-face
vdistinctive
Eliot didn't sleep much on a good day (his claim to "90 minutes a night" wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't that much of an exaggeration). The day he found out someone had broken into his team's headquarters and stolen a hard drive full of extremely valuable information was not a good day. He'd already been planning some new security measures on his house, plans which had made him miss out on the fun that had happened on the island yesterday. Hearing about the missing Black Book just meant he had to move up his time table, get his place secured up so he could start working on the headquarters.

He'd worked straight through the night. The tech he'd picked up at the pawn shops on the mainland wasn't the easiest to work with, all bulky and clunky, needing to be hardwired together to be networked, but the supplies from the military surplus store just brought back some fond memories. Laser grids and motion sensors were great and all, but there was no way Eliot would ever be able to set up a system with those that Hardison and Parker couldn't crack. No, his surveillance and traps were going to have to go old school to keep them out.

They were getting suspicious, and they were clever; they'd figure out the necklace eventually. He couldn't let that happen, and if they got too close, he couldn't guarantee anymore that he wouldn't hurt them. Some well-hidden snares and disguised cameras meant he hopefully wouldn't have to.

[ooc: Booby-trapping NFB, please. Open, if anyone wants to trip an old school hunting trap or two.]