Elektra Natchios (assassinforhire) wrote in ageofmarvels, @ 2016-03-31 23:38:00 |
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The concrete, while lacking in ice, was cold on a November night in New York City. Elektra stalled under a broken streetlamp, her eyes sharply focused ahead of her. Ever since leaving the States to pursue her future with the Hand, Elektra made every effort to keep her two worlds apart. The public life was what remained of her original self, both a necessary ruse as well as something she would not quite let go of. She remained very much the heiress of Nicholas Natchios, a young woman pursuing her education abroad. This was the part of her that still had connections, to a life and a school that had illuminated a different path, the one not taken. That world had friends, a few trusted souls who were never far from her thoughts. The other world was a shadow, but one that reached just as far. A path that she believed she could find purpose in, could use her abilities to their fullest extent, to excel. Out of necessity, it was one that could not have the luxury of friends. The Hand was not only involved in deadly external pursuits; even the internal factions were a threat to each other. Her peers were challenges to be overcome, rivals to a position of honor and respect, and sometimes enemies to be dispatched. Now, the shadows extended back into the “City That Never Sleeps,” threatening to violate the barrier between her two worlds. Now, she needed help to escape an enemy that she could not confront directly. The longer she remained here, the longer Elektra remained a pawn, and she would not yield. Stall, feign defeat, sure. Escape was now her only plan, if she could call it that. Get someplace the Hand could not reach, someplace very, very far away. America was the key to that plan. Not the country she was now lurking in, but the woman whom she called friend, whose footsteps she followed. America disappeared a couple months back, and no one could find her. Not a single soul knew where she was, and Elektra had an idea why. A few days ago, America Chavez had returned. Now that she’d found her, it was time for Elektra to act. She hoped when all was said and done, her friend could forgive her. As Elektra followed her from a block away, it wasn’t hard to miss the other woman. She walked with both purpose and fearlessness, hand, wearing a black leather jacket over her usual red, white and blue wardrobe. The early winter air seeped into Elektra’s bones and appeared on both their breaths, as America crossed the street toward an apartment building that Elektra didn’t recognize. It was nowhere near the old one, which raised new questions about America and Karolina, though now was not the time to ask. When Chavez had gone in the door, Elektra waited to see where the lights would come on, then picked a window, easily unlocking it and climbing into the yellow dimly-lit room. Silent as death, she waited to see if her old roommate had remembered what she’d learned back at school. America didn’t intend on staying in this universe long. She’d give herself just enough time to check in with the people who mattered, catch up on local events, assure that the Avengers or Defenders didn’t need her, maybe catch up on the news for possible conflict between the nations across the world, stop a few street crimes and then she’d bounce again. With those things in mind she’d arranged for a sublet for a couple weeks of someone else’s place, paid for the entire period in cash, and had set about her business without a second thought. The bruiser didn’t need to be here longer than absolutely needed, and quite fucking frankly had no desire to stay here any longer than she could help it anyway. This wasn’t her fucking universe, this wasn’t her fucking home. She’d help the people she needed to help then everyone else could fucking deal with whatever shit was left lingering around on their own. America knew there were people who could clean up the messes here, knew that there were teams in place that were more than capable of handling their own, knew… That she really desperately didn’t want to interact with, see or even fucking hear anything even remotely related to Karolina right now. The mere thought of the other woman’s distrust, disbelief and lack of faith still made her blood boil. Yeah. Fuck this universe. The stairs were taken with ease and keys were dug out of her pocket. It took a moment to recall which key fit the door right, but after that it was pushed open and America slipped inside, kicking the door closed behind her without much of a thought. Maybe she’d have a few drinks, text Kate and call it a night. It would be easier that way. She just needed to get enough alcohol in her system to…. However, the window wasn’t completely silent while being opened. It was an old place, and the lock shook before the window frame creeked. An eyebrow rose and America turned, pocketing the keys and locking the door while attempting to listen for anything else that may follow in regards to sound. If it was an attempted burglary then this was going to be a night from hell for them. Shifting America removed her jacket, hanging it on a hook by the door before rolling her shoulders and cracking her knuckles. “You’ve got one chance to give up before I break your neck.” Elektra felt a faint smile on her lips, though it was tempered by the knowledge that America could easily make good on that promise. There was still some distance between them, but that was no advantage against someone like her, so Elektra wasted no time responding, stepping into the light coming from the streetlamp outside. “It’s me. You’ve been-- missed,” she added, after a moment. “And I’ve never been good with boundaries.” Or doors. A raising of one eyebrow was given in response to Elektra’s slow reveal of herself. With a heavy, annoyed sigh America crossed her arms loosely underneath her breasts and the tank’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?” Her voice came off a little harder than it would have those years before when they’d been roommates. This break up had changed her, and the multiverse had changed her even more. The last thing America needed was more fucking drama in her life. In fact, if anyone was going to bring her any that she didn’t ask for, the tank might just have to pick that person up and drop them in a nightmare dimension before exiting stage right. Anyone who crossed her at this point might get knocked the fuck out just on principle of being her damn way. The change wasn’t lost on Elektra, though her curiosity spiked. A need to know what her friend had been doing pressed against her thoughts, but now was not the time or place. She held America’s gaze unflinchingly. “I need help. I’m in trouble, and I believe you’re one of the few people who can. Who actually might.” There were times to play coy, and times for complete honesty. This was not a time for either, so Elektra walked down the middle. She moved closer so that her old roommate could see the fatigue and stress lines, the dark pouches under her eyes, the lack of makeup, even the fresh scar that ran down her neck very close to the throat. “I need to get away. Far away, from a threat that cannot be dealt with directly.” There was no backing down from the gaze that Elektra brought to meet hers, there was no hesitation, and the look America leveled at the other woman showed no hint of emotion or sympathy. The tank had years of practice behind her on carefully schooling, and controlling her feelings, and external displays so that enemy couldn’t get the upper hand on her… Even if the person in question was - in theory - a friend. Right now though? The last thing she needed was people asking favors of her when she wasn’t planning on sticking around, and had no desire to babysit them through the multiverse. “Call Virgin Atlantic.” Her voice remained even, firmly backed, and it was clear that America wasn’t interested in playing any games tonight. With all the shit that’d gone on in the last few months, games were even further down her list of things she liked than they’d been back in their high school days before. “Right now, there is no place on this planet that would be safe.” Elektra stepped back, though, ready to relent and attempt to find another solution. “No hole deep enough, no SHIELD bunker secure enough. I need time to regroup, time to think.” She sighed, turning and putting some distance between them, moving toward the threshold that led into the apartment’s kitchen. “I get it, you know. This isn’t how friends are supposed to be. Any different time, I’d be here to catch up over drinks, find out what it is that happened,” the Greek woman glanced back over her shoulder, “maybe cheer you up.” A short laugh. “Whatever that looks like.” Elektra’s strong suit was never playing the ‘bestie’ or trying to get a cheap laugh or whatever it was normal people did to offer moral support. “I take care of my own problems. Always have.” Her voice shook, and she nearly growled the next words, “I am in a corner.” Then came the commentary about danger and death and friendship and all the other bullshit that accompanied it, and what was going on and… America let out a long, controlled sigh before her arms unfolded and the tank followed the other woman into the kitchen. Wasn’t that what she’d spent the last several years of her life doing? Following some pretty woman around to see what would happen next….. Why had America wasted so many years of her life like that? “Looks like you’re in a kitchen.” The hard edge to her voice had faded, and America waited a few moments, letting her eyes wander over Elektra, taking in the other woman’s curves in a way she’d previously reserved for her former lover alone. However, her eyes would be pulled away after a moment and the tank would cross the small kitchen, sliding past Elektra with a brief brush of their bodies to retrieve a bottle of already opened and a quarter gone tequila along a couple cups from the cupboard. Turning she’d put the cups down, pour them both a glass and then move to sit, gesturing for Elektra to join her. “I was planning to stick around another week. You can stay here if you want.” With the words America lifted her glass and took a sip of the liquor. It was habit that caused her to peer into the other room, a need to ensure safety brought on by too many years of having enemies in the shadows. Not something she cared to admit, though Elektra’s thoughts were brought to the moment when the other woman, one of the few taller than herself, brushed past. Not an invasion of personal space, as she might normally consider it, and for at least a moment she allowed herself to smile at America’s joke. The bottle made Elektra squint in thought. She was in enough pain that the thought of something to dull it was appealing, but in truth that was just an excuse to say yes. Elektra sat beside her, picking up the other glass and turning it in her hand, swirling it lazily. “A week?” She did her best not to let fear enter into the tone, doing the math, wondering how long it would be until she was called upon to perform another task, jump through another hoop, or risk retribution and death. She’d only just arrived. It might be alright. “I suppose that…” She brought the glass to her lips, taking a large swig and doing her best to not act the fool. Gritting her teeth and inhaling sharply after it went down, she set the glass down. Some very old programming returned, making her cheeks flush with embarrassment, the lessons of the Sisters at her old school and in the church halls drumming on about proper ladies, sins, and the devil’s lure. Never mind her occupation. Shaking her head, Elektra pushed the glass toward the bottle. “A week is a good start,” she said, not completely wanting to give up on her reason for being here. “Just like old times.” America swallowed down her sip, the tequila expensive enough not to have a foul taste, but still just barely cheap enough that there was a still a burn, and her nose crinkled slightly. There seemed to be some sort of passing thought that left a frown across her face before the tank lifted the glass and downed the rest of the alcohol in one gulp. An eyebrow rose again at Elektra’s assessment of the situation. It was oddly true, wasn’t it? Though this time they’d be sharing an apartment, not a room. “No one will know you’re here.” There was a pause. “Barely anyone knows I’m here.” The sentence almost seemed an attempt to driving home the fact that this was a weirdly off the grid situation they’d both found themselves in now. Quite frankly, America would prefer to stay that way too until she left this universe for another. With that said the bottle was lifted and she poured them both another glass. “If you need something more than that, I need more of why.” There were rules to interuniversal travel, and she wasn’t about to throw those out the door just because she was asked by a pretty face. Elektra picked up the refilled glass, her fingers spidering around the top edge as it dangled from her hand. “Before I came to the school, before we met, there were people in my life that wanted to use me. Turn me into their weapon.” Her words cold and passionless, Elektra turned her gaze from the glass to the woman next to her. She hadn’t expected a familiar face to be as comforting a presence as it was. Her eyes lingered for a moment. America had always been appealing because of that inner strength, and a defiance to the outside world that she could identify with. That attracted Elektra to her, made her gravitate to her former roommate as a friend. Physical attractiveness aside, her ex-roommate’s purity of purpose had been elusive to Elektra until she’d decided to embrace her fate. “I realized that I am that weapon, and that I cannot effect any change with a sheathed blade. Those people are still around. Some of them still pose a threat to me. I can be killed at a distance by one who has the means to do so, and right now she is holding all the cards. I can take that advantage away if I can get away, but until I do, I’ll be her tool. Her weapon.” Swiftly, she downed the second glass. It went more smoothly this time, and she tried to smile comfortingly, though it came off more of a scowl. “A week will be nice. I could use some proper sleep. After that, I may need to seek another solution.” Setting the glass back on the table, Elektra shifted and pulled her legs up, arm resting on the back of the couch. “What are they like? These other worlds.” This wasn’t sounding like the sort of story America would expect to find completed with a happy ending. Yet, regardless of what the outcome was or wasn’t going to be the tank would listen, and let the other woman speak. Fingers wrapped around the top of the glass, picking it up and swishing the tequila around without taking a drink a sip of the newly poured glass. After Elektra had finished America remained quiet for a moment longer. “What cards?” An eyebrow rose with the question. Knowing what she’d be getting herself into, and possibly whatever other solution Elektra was attempting to seek, was vital to this. If this person was dangerous, what sort of dangers did they pose and would a temporary trip to another world really be solution enough? However, the new question from the other woman caused America to give pause before a slight shrug of her shoulders was earned and the glass of liquor was raised for a sip. “Depends on the world.” “Greater resources. Greater numbers.” Elektra answered passively. “I’m only one woman.” With a shrug of her own, she matched America’s drink, glass raised. “How about the last one? Was it dangerous? Fun? Both?” “That can be evened out.” The sentence held no threat, no anger, but it was clear that America believed that to be a pure truth, and the fact of the matter was, perhaps the tank wouldn’t mind giving a hand with that. Nothing but anger radiated in her core these days. That was why she’d taken herself out of this universe largely. While she’d been crushed by the destruction of the relationship she’d given herself to fully, the one she’d never questioned after the beginning bumps, she still didn’t want to do any more damage to it than need be. And in this time? That meant taking herself on a multi-universal face punching spree to hurt the things that deserved to be hurt, and keep the things safe that deserved to be saved. A pause would be taken before following Elektra’s lead, a sip of the drink now taken as she mulled over the answers to Elektra’s questions. There was always this strange lingering curiosity people had about the multiverse, one that few people asked about, one that she was hesitant to fully answer…. “It was… Needed.” The details of it - or the multitude she’d been recklessly bashing through - didn’t need to be aired out. Not now. Not here. “That,” Elektra punctuated the word with a pause, “is something I understand quite well.” Need drove her choices, even if the path had been difficult and her actions less than ideal. She could feel some of the anger in the other women, and recognized it, drawn to the commonality but also afraid to look on the face of it, to acknowledge that too often her own anger controlled her, rather than the other way around. Neither of them really wanted to talk. Elektra held her secrets and her weaknesses jealously behind a cloak of shadows, and America had her own reasons, too. While she wanted to acknowledge this understanding, she didn’t know how. A hug or shallow affirmations of empowerment rang hollow with her, so she reached forward, squeezed the other woman’s shoulder, then leaned back to the bottle, this time returning the gesture with double shots, even though she could already sense a loosening of her reflexes as her vision fogged slightly and she had difficulty rebalancing after setting the bottle back down. “γάμα το*.” With a snap of her head, she downed half the glass quickly. *Greek. “Fuck it.” An eyebrow rose at the simplistic show of support. It wasn’t something America was entirely sure she wanted, or needed, but at the same time it was one that she oddly appreciatively none-the-less. However, a note was made regarding Elektra’s complete evasion of the tank’s indirect offer of assistance on evening the sides. Oh well. Her loss. When Elektra poured more booze in America’s unfinished second glass, and tossed back another section of the booze though… That spoke volumes. The tank couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen the other woman drink like this… In fact… Had she ever seen Elektra drink like this? Well… That would have to be a matter of debate for a later time. A solemn nod was given, and the glass raised so that America could take another sip from it. “Planning on getting drunk?” “It wasn’t in the plan.” Elektra admitted. She was not one to let down her guard, not with the life she led. Even knowing that someone like America was more than a match for anyone that might try to come after her, and knowing that they would not (that was not how the game was played), still was not enough to convince her to properly relax. Maybe the drinks would help. Maybe not. “No plan survives first contact with the enemy, anyway,” she joked, the slight lilt of her accent piercing through her practiced diction. “And the night is young.” She reached out and slid her hand around the bottle, tipping it thoughtfully. “I wonder if the people on the other worlds you visit use the same cliches.” “Probably.” America offered in regards to the absent inquiry. Answering without answering all at once. “There’s a lot more the same than you’d think.” People always needed help, always needed saving. There were always assholes looking to take advantage and the helpless who had no one else to turn to. Evil overlords, scumbag millionaires, autocratic dictators who turned their nations into police states and controlled the people through abuse and fear. All people who deserved a fate worse than being punched in the face. It was a good thing America had gotten okay with murder over the course of her adventures. It wasn’t something she sought to do, but… Sometimes there were things you couldn’t avoid. “If you’re getting drunk, we’ll need more booze.” The lithe Greek leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “I know a place I used to frequent during those two semesters I wasted at Columbia.” With a sideglance at America, she pressed a thumb to her own temple and massaged the soft spot, trying to get her nerves to calm down and a phantom pain to subside. “Or a quick run and bring some back. I don’t want to be the ungrateful houseguest that drinks all your booze. My father raised me to buy my own drinks.” An odd joke, she thought, especially since she’d long since admitted to her old roommate that her father had outsourced most of those duties. She thought of him a lot, lately. Of his legacy. Wondering if she was disgracing it, or fulfilling it. There were two Nicholas Natchios’, the prestigious ambassador, and the one with business dealings with Wilson Fisk. The world only knew the former, but Elektra had been privy to the latter in the fallout since his death. The only thing she was sure of was that getting drunk was the only way to distract her from concerns both old and prescient, if just for a night. “Your choice.” Really, America didn’t have a fucking preference. Well…. Aside from interacting with as few people she knew as possible. So many things in this universe reminded her of things the tank didn’t want to think of, of things she didn’t want to remember. Everyone knew she had a temper, but what they didn’t realize was what would happen when she chose to unleash it as America had always been sure to keep it carefully controlled. Now though? Now that she could punch through the very time space fabric that separated universes? Well, she had to be even more careful of letting her temper flare up. Shifting back America picked up the bottle, pouring them both another glass while being well aware that this would be her third and - she thought - Elektra’s fifth. With the bruiser’s tolerance for alcohol it didn’t really mean much, but for someone like Elektra… Well… This might change her entire night. |