Octane was as charming as always. Elektra rolled her eyes and briefly considered tripping him up, leaving him behind to hold off the wolves while she made her escape. But she never seemed to find the right moment to act on that impulse. There were lulls in the fighting, particularly when the wolves started calling to each other and circling instead of attacking like frenzied beasts. They just weren’t long enough. Or she wasn’t ready.
Regardless, it meant that Octane wasn’t the only one to find himself herded further and further back from the street, walls closing in on them and a ceiling pressing down, awash with the jaundiced glare of moth-covered neons. “Look at us, fostering inter-species cooperation,” Elektra drawled as the wolves advanced and the bloodsuckers hung back, their eyes red in this light. “We should get a goddamn medal.”
Instead they got another wave of attackers coming their way. Now, without Octane’s handy silver bullets, the last of which he had wasted keeping Elektra from missing a chunk of her thigh, they had nothing but stakes and knives to rely on. And it quickly became clear that wouldn’t do.
“Don’t think of it as running,” Elektra called between furred bodies hitting the ground. “Think of it as a gentle stroll in the direction of another sandwich. Or fucking - I don’t know - tea with Xian.” Just get out of here, she meant to say.
She could’ve made a run for it herself, if she’d wanted to. Earlier. When there was a chance both of them could get away. Even in her reckless, bloodthirsty abandon, Elektra knew that moment had passed.