"Back and forth the struggle consumes us all, trying to keep a level head" Characters: Elektra Setting: Russia, early evening Content: Violence, swearing, death Summary: Elektra completes her first job
Elektra preferred kills under the cover of darkness more to ones in the daylight. It could have been the extra protection it provided or it could have been something else entirely...something the assassin would never devulge to anyone. Either way, she hunched in the pitch black room of her current prey, sai gleaming in the moon light with the stuble shift of her hips beneath the tight leather she wore. The trip had been long, but Elektra was used to it and barely kept anything on against the change in temperatures besides her normal trench. Part of her wasn't sure of she could ever live up to the name of Allison; it sounded to innocent, but perhaps it was to make her seem so. Elektra would never be innocent, she had killed too many people for that. The Grecian woman had lost her faith in humanity and mercy a long time ago.
There was a twisting of the doorknob, a creaking of the door, and her victim was in the room, tossing off his dinner coat and kicking off his shoes. She remained seated on his desk, stepping off only when his bleary eyes found hers in the dim light. If the red didn't give it away, she was sure her features did. She was a dead woman walking...and a killer who had come for him. The silver blades were flipped from her hips and she approached with confident strides. He reached for his gun, but Elektra was proficient in dodging as well as killing and she spin easily, avoiding the bullets and they whizzed harmlessly past her ear, penetrating the wall with a crunch of plaster.
The blade moved and with two strikes, there was blood spilling to the floor and down the front of his white shirt. It was a clean kill, but the escape would be messy. His bullets no doubt alerted the guards and in seconds the doors were busting open and she was flying to the window, wincing as a bullet skimmed her arm and broke the stitches there. Not bothering to turn, she fled out into the night her trail marked only with spots of blood