“I’m glad to know it measures up,” Elektra replied even as she spun and drove her now blood-drenched stake into the heart of another vampire. The wooden weapon was starting to become slippery in her hands and she was tempted to go back to the sai blades, but those wouldn’t be as effective against fifty percent of her enemies and, besides, Octane had just traded up.
She eyed his makeshift bo staff jealously - just for a moment, before they were back into the thick of battle and there was no room left for envy.
It was hard to say precisely when the tide turned on them. Maybe it started happening with the third wave of reinforcements, or the bloodsuckers backing them deeper into the deserted market. Or maybe it was the werewolves that rose up to meet them and wound up trying to avenge their fallen packmates in the process. Regardless, Elektra had been in enough fights that she could feel it in her bones: the scales tipping, the rising difficulty of staying one step ahead of her opponents.
“Thanks for the help,” she called out to Octane, “but you should run along now. You’re spoiling my fun.” If she was greedy for a high body count then there could be no question of her trying to warn him off before it was too late. She wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t in her nature. The Danger Room fiasco proved it.