If you don't fear death, what do you fear? Characters: Elektra, OTA Setting: New York City, Early Morning Content: Elektra trains...hard. Violence is possible as well as death. It is Elektra after all. Summary: Elektra is avoiding her old client, but he finds her anyway.
" You failed again."
Elektra turned, green eyes falling on the face of the last person she expected to see...her former client. It had been close to two weeks since her last contact with him. At least, she had been hoping it would be her last, but he obviously had other plans. The assassin kept her expression firm, but her body loose. Her hands rested easily at her thighs, the absence of her sai suddenly so much more apparent. The weapons were still in the possession of one Tony Stark...'her new boss'. Elektra pursed her lips in a firm line and kept her face void of any emotion...fear or otherwise. "Yes, I failed." The words were not welcomed from her mouth and Elektra felt anger rise up inside her. She had the opportunity and she had let him slip away. Why? What made him so special? " I can kill him, but I-"
" No. No more chances. For sparing his life, I will take yours." Elektra tensed, hands clenching into fists at her sides. The last thing she needed was a price on her head. No one would do business with her as long as he lived. " I died once and came back. It doesn't scare me." Even as she spoke, she felt herself tremble slightly and forced the memories of death back. She could still feel the knife blade slicing into her gut and the pull as her body functioned again. The first breath had been painful for it came from lungs that hadn't worked in monthes and her heart unfamiliar as it beat a steady tempo in her chest.
"Good-bye Elektra."
Pain struck her back as a blade buried itself in her flesh and the raven hared woman whirled around quickly. The masked figure held the bloody blade in front of him like a sick trophy. Despite the blood oozing from her wound, Elektra grabbed his wrist and broke it with a twist. She smirked as he screamed and with one fluid motion his blade was buried in his chest. Kicking him down, the assassin yanked out the knife and spun it expertly in her hands. Footsteps pounded the pavement around her as a dozen figures suddenly appeared, faces covered and weaponary drawn.
Moving gracefully, Elektra attacked fiercely even as knives were stuck into her frame. She would not give up so easily; she was not a victim. Her blade impaled the last of them and she fell to her knees. There was blood everywhere: her skin, her clothes, the concrete...