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.Returns on Investments	By : keithcompany Category: G through L > Leverage Views: 3451 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is inspired by, but not loyal to, the show Leverage. I do not own Leverage.. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Bradley and Kira both knew where at least three guns were cached in Meryl's place. One had been in the sofa. Another was in the seat Corey was on. The last was in the bedroom. Corey was between them and that pistol.
Kira turned and ran into the kitchen. She staggered a bit on the first couple of steps, then she seemed to kick off her shoes and recover.
Corey got up slowly to follow her. There was some metallic bashing and a few pots flew out. Corey dodged them easily.
"Why doesn't she grab a knife?" Bradley asked.
"Why doesn't she duck out the trap door?" Meryl replied. The struggle seemed to get desperate, then suddenly there was quiet.
Then she screamed. But it didn't sound right to Bradley. After that, things got weird.
A small girl ran out of the kitchen. Or, a small person. It took a second for Bradley to recognize Kira. The clothes were the same, technically, but they looked totally different. They didn't follow her form anymore, just hung loosely. They were far too big for Kira at her new size.
She started to trip, hopped on one leg long enough to kick her panties across the floor, then took off again.
She reached the table blocking the doorway and threw herself against it. Nothing happened. Then she went for the back door. Corey stepped into view, walking slowly, as she staggered across the floor.
The doorknob was about the level of her forehead. She grabbed it and turned it, hanging off of it. It didn't move. She looked up and saw the bolt was turned, about one and a half arm's lengths over her head.
"Better come here," Corey said. "The process doesn't stop until I stop it. If you get away from me, you shrink until you disappear."
Kira whined and ran to the bedroom. Bradley had never seen the woman so badly shaken up, even at gunpoint. Corey moved gently, but his steps took up a lot more ground that Kira's did any more.
Her feet pounded the hard wood, his whispered across. She swerved to avoid him but he only took one more step and blocked her again.
"No, please!" she shouted, trying to spin around and away. He reached down to scoop her up like a little child. She looked like a toddler in his arms.
A toddler with claws, trying to rake his face. He laughed and caught both of her hands in one fist. He dangled her from that grip and watched her kick and gasp.
And shrink.
Towards the end, the shrinking was visible to everyone. More and more of her clothes dropped away to pile on the floor.
Corey changed his grip to hold her around the waist and shook her blouse and bra off. The naked woman looked like a toy in his grasp.
When she was about the size of a fashion doll, he reached into a pocket and did something. She stopped shrinking.
She slumped in his grip, muttering something under her breath. He took a moment to fondle her breasts with a fingertip then placed her inside the duffel bag. She hardly resisted what he did to her.
The others watched in horror as he carefully latched the top of the bag securely.
"Now," he said with a smile. "Who's going to be next?"
Meryl piped up immediately. "Me. I'm cramping in this position."
"I'm fine," Bradley said.
"It's all that second story work," her partner said. "You're used to hanging around in odd positions."
"Aren't you used to being in cuffs?" Corey asked.
"I've never been arrested," she said haughtily.
"That's not what I was talking about," he said. He aimed his rod.
"I think he's calling you a slut," Bradley said. Meryl shrugged it away.
The thief had always found her senior partner a class act. She didn't rattle her cuffs or make threats. When she could, she slipped her hands clear of the bracelets and set them down gently on the floor.
When she stood, her skirt didn't rise with her. Bradley looked close at the brunette. She was visibly smaller now. She stepped out of her shoes, leaving her skirt and stockings pooled over them.
Corey stared as she walked in front of him and stared back. "I'm not going to scamper around my own place," she said. "I think you find that too amusing."
"Aw, shucks," he mocked. "No widdle victim wunning and scweaming? How ever shall I find entertainment from a class act like you?"
Meryl merely shrugged. That shook her blouse free. One shoulder slipped down to her elbow.
After a moment gazing at the other shoulder, Corey reached out with the rod and pushed it off. The silk slithered easily down her form, rippling over her breasts.
With a much-put-upon sigh, she slipped her hands through the straps of her bra. It dropped to her feet. By this time, her head was about as far off the ground as Corey's belt.
He took a step back to see her from a less fore-shortened angle. "Oh, that's nice," he whispered.
"Compliments will get you everything," she said in a monotone.
"No, I think that keeping you in a cage like a pet will get me everything," he said. "Panties."
She stepped to the side. When her legs parted, the bottom of her underwear dropped to her knees. That yanked her hips free and the last bit of covering was gone. Knee high and nude, she stood at attention, making no attempt to cover herself.
He knelt down to get a better look at her. A small sob escaped from Meryl's mouth before she restored her cold mask.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
"Like it enough to buy it," he replied with a wicked smile. "Oh, wait. I already own it." He fiddled in his pocket again. Meryl's shrinking coasted to a stop.
She appeared to Bradley to be about the same height as Kira. Corey carefully picked her up and held her in the crook of his arm.
When he had the duffel open he lowered her gently down. There was a wordless cry from the other shrunken victim then he shut the bag again.
"Okay," he said cheerfully. "Are you ready?"
"Does it matter if I am?" Bradley asked.
"I dunno," he said. He had the wand ready but didn't aim it. "I have a woman for each hand. What do I need a third for?"
"Because you're greedy. I know you are, it's part of your profile. It's why the scam worked."
"That's it," he said. "Keep reminding me how mad I am at you bitches. See what that gets you."
He left her to worry about her fate as he made a last search of the loft for valuables. Of course Bradley wasn't in the habit of thinking about the future so she spent no time on that.
She'd gotten one of the bolts on the bar loose by the time he paid her any attention again. The other five weren't budging, though.
"So, what to do with you?"
"Give me a head start, I'll make it entertaining for you," she said.
"Hmmmm." He nodded and adjusted the rod. "What do you mean by interesting?"
"Oh, scrambling under the furniture, hiding, making you tear the place up to find me. That sort of thing."
"Escape? That sort of thing?"
"Where would I go?" she asked. "Shrinking until I disappear? That's not my career path. No, I just want to be on your good side. Maybe you'll punish the others instead of me."
"Now that's loyal," he laughed.
"Hey, they got me into this con. I just wanted to rob a bank. The bank owners just call the insurance. No one chases you down with a shrinking dildo."
"Funny," he replied. He waved at her. "Okay. Show me how entertaining you can be."
She took the cue from Meryl. No frantic rattling, no screaming. She just waited until she could slip her wrist free, then put the cuffs on the floor. Carefully, Meryl wouldn't want dents in her wood.
Then Bradley simply stripped. Nudity wasn't a big problem for her. Her upbringing hadn't concentrated on social mores except to find ways to profit from them.
By the time she was naked, she felt that she'd dropped about six inches in height. She stood and stretched. Corey eyed her approvingly. In other circumstances she'd use that interest. She promised herself that at some point, he'd be wearing that rod as a tongue stud.
Then she turned and ran. She wasn't sure if he'd told the truth about the shrinking effect. No one had seen the device in his pocket, so maybe everyone stopped at Barbie size.
And even if it did mean she'd shrink to nothing, she'd rather try to survive in an ant hill that give this asshole the satisfaction.
So she ran straight for the doorway and escape. Her mind prepared to reach and vault the table over the doorway. She was even reaching for her grip when she was suddenly flying.
When she had a moment, she realized that he'd sped up the shrinking. Her leg had pushed off from the floor, and in mid-step he'd made her tinier. The power of her thrust was applied to a much tinier blonde.
The body twisted in air as she flew over the floor in a flat arc. The table edge was an arm's length over her head when she hit and tumbled to the floor.
She did have a second to notice it didn't hurt as much as it might have. Maybe pain shrank faster than people did?
But she shook it off and started running again. "Feisty!" Corey shouted gleefully, somewhere behind her.
For being barefoot and a little stiff from standing all that time, she was getting some amazing traction. She'd have expected that smaller feet made for less of a grip, as it were, on the surface below.
In action, though, she barely had to think about zigging or zagging and she was two body lengths to the side. Corey kept losing her as he ran behind her through the loft. She was hardly able to figure out where she was going to go, nothing was telegraphing the motion to her pursuer.
At first she ran around the furniture. He growled and followed. She looped around the easy chair, just missing being caught in his grip.
He leaned on the arm and cornered like a rampaging bull. She took off at an oblique angle towards the coffee table. He pushed off the chair, overcorrected, caught himself on the table and staggered after.
She ran around the table twice until he kicked it to the side and ran straight at her. Bradley didn't lose a moment turning around and tearing towards the back wall. He charged.
She jumped up and pushed off the wall like an olympic swimmer. She was half-sure it would just get her caught, but it came as a complete surprise to him as she rolled between his feet.
He watched her and ended up running head-first into the wall. She ran to the corner as he recovered and smiled sweetly up at him. "Told you I'd make it interesting!"
Corey swore, spread his arms and started after her. She ran under the coffee table. At the far side she braked to a stop, turned and jumped in the air.
"Here I am!" she shouted. She'd carefully avoided running under the furniture to this point. He'd been able to follow every step she'd taken so far. Now, he focused on her and charged.
His shin hit the coffee table so hard that it nearly knocked Bradley in the head. She laughed at his strangled cry and ducked under it. She was out of sight when she changed directions so her streak towards the kitchen came as a surprise. His big steps quickly ate up her lead, though.
She jinked around a pipe near the wall of the kitchen, grabbing the metal to make a sort of bootlegger reverse. Corey copied her. Sort of. He grabbed the metal and lost his footing, kind of throwing himself to the floor.
In an instant she was back in the living room, headed for the bedroom. He pulled himself up and came thundering behind. She took care to run on the flats of her feet, slapping them noisily down.
Meryl's bedroom was a mess. Her clothes and the drawers they'd been in were strewn across the floor between the cabinets and the waterbed.
She was surprised that the mattress hadn't been slashed. She'd known a few people to keep jewels and other treasures inside waterbeds.
Bradley also knew that there was a gun up on the headboard somewhere, but she couldn't possibly ready it with him on her tail.
There was a small space between the pedestal of the waterbed and the wall. Right now, that looked like a pedestrian tunnel. She aimed for it, leaning forward to run on her toes. The slapping stopped. Hopefully, he'd think she had stopped running as well.
On the other side of the bed, she stayed under the overhang and moved to the foot. Meryl's shoe boxes were thrown around in a mess outside her closet. The door was open and the back wall looked undisturbed.
Corey stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. He growled and started lifting clothing off the floor to see if she was hiding underneath.
The bedroom closet and the one in the living room shared a back wall, one that had been carefully altered to create a sort of secret passage. It appeared that Corey hadn't realized that.
With his attention on the far corner, Bradley slipped between shoes and boxes to the closet. There she found the section where the wood wall had been replaced with a sliding piece of plastic covered with wooden shelf paper.
She eased through that and she was in the living room. That closet door had been left open by Corey's treasure hunt and she walked right out.
The duffel bag was slumped over. She climbed up to stand on the money stacked within and tried to work the latch. There was motion inside the bag as her friends tried to get out of her way. But they remained silent.
The metal spring defied her efforts to open it. It seemed that she was getting the leverage she needed, but she just didn't have enough strength.
After a futile couple of minutes she realized she was wasting time. She pat some of the moving bulges reassuringly then ran for the kitchen.
A heavy duty screwdriver had been spilled out of the junk drawer. Bradley swept it up and held it like a lance.
She used it to pry up the handle to the trap door behind the fridge, then wedged it into the handle. Then she heaved.
The most she got was to lift the door almost ankle high. Her new ankle, that was. Hardly enough room for even a shrunken burglar to wriggle through, and that was assuming she could prop it open.
She lowered the tool to the floor as quietly as possible and turned around to look for something else that might help.
Two shoes were staring at her. "Need a hand?" Corey asked. "I suppose I could be talked-"
In the movies, the heavies always get the time to finish their speeches. Writers put a lot of time into writing the speech, directors try to find the best setting and angle, and the audience always finds some new information, about the plot or the character.
So Bradley knew that every dick who imagines himself delivering dialogue expects to be able to finish the line. Even if it's off-the-cuff banter, no one interrupts Spiderman or Dirty Harry until they're done.
For all that the giant in the kitchen doorway was physically poised to intercept her, his brain was caught flatfooted when she ran over his foot.
"BITCH!" he shouted, morally affronted by her disregard for face-off conventions. She took it as a compliment.
The bedroom door was shut. She swerved to run under the table again. Corey wasn't taken by either ruse. He didn't bark his shin and he didn't wait for her to come out.
She'd just decided on a new direction to run when the table flew up. It landed on its side and slid to the middle of the floor.
Bradley grit her teeth and ran for a bookcase. Corey followed, tipping over furniture as he came. By the time he'd dumped the bookshelf to the floor there was nothing left to run behind or under.
The little blonde backed into a corner, eyes flashing side to side. Nothing appeared to be able to help her. No escape beckoned, no tools offered, no hiding places showed.
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.Returns on Investments