Chapter Text
Elektra
The force of the shattered glass had launched Elektra against one of the white tiled bathroom walls. As she sat on the floor, she quickly surveyed her injuries. For the most part, she was rather unscathed. This was likely due to her seeing the Devil launch himself off the building toward her, giving her enough time to get far enough from the window that the only wounds she had from the broken glass were surface-level cuts. However, her crashing against the wall seemed to have bruised some of her ribs and the force had caused her to bite down on her tongue. Blood had begun to fill her mouth.
At first, Elektra had been worried that the Devil was here to kill her, but to her surprise, he simply picked up the Holt phone and left the bathroom, without even looking over at her. Elektra couldn’t help the anger that surged through her. James Holt was an animal, and yet not only did he have every police station in New York City trying to solve his murder, but he apparently had Hell’s Kitchen’s great vigilante on his side. Even in death, James Holt had everything in the world just handed to him.
Despite the aching of her ribs, despite her vision blurring, despite the taste of blood clouding her other senses, Elektra forced herself to stand. She wouldn’t let James Holt win. He may be dead, but he would win if Elektra let that Devil leave with that phone. Leaning against the wall for balance, Elektra dragged herself out of the bathroom.
The first thing she saw when she entered the living room was the Devil headed for the fire escape. The second thing she saw was the katana with the red hilt. It wasn’t her preferred martial arts weapon, she had always preferred smaller blades, but it would have to do. She grabbed it off the wall and that’s when the Devil turned back to her.
Elektra unsheathed the weapon, spat out some blood, staining the white shag rug, and said, “You have something that belongs to me, Devil.”
The Devil paused for a moment before saying in a deep, husky voice, “It belongs to a dead man.”
“Technicalities.” She smirked despite the pain it caused her jaw.
Elektra then clumsily launched herself at the man in red, but he easily dodged her, though he didn’t make a move to hit her. She then tried again, but he side-stepped once again. Elektra suspected that her failure was a combination of her hazing vision and this man’s skill. It wasn’t until she tried again, then he kicked the weight out from under her and she came crashing down onto the hardwood floor.
She laughed up more blood from the ground, staining her lips a darker shade of red and likely also staining her teeth, “I swear, I’m normally a much better fighter.”
Elektra expected the Devil to simply leave since he had the phone, which seemed like all he had wanted, but instead he said accusatorially, “You killed a man.”
“So?” Elektra bit back. She hadn’t expected judgment from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
This response seemed to startle him. He probably dealt with hardened murderers on a daily basis, but Elektra suspected that he hadn’t expected a hardened murderer reaction from a small princess, like Elektra. Everyone always underestimated her. Which, she had to admit, did have its occasional benefits.
Elektra put all her weight on her palms, and launched her legs into the air, kicking the Devil. This only seemed to knock him backwards but Elektra used that to push him up against a wall, knocking down a picture frame of a black and white painting of a lighthouse next to an ocean, and held the katana to his neck.
“I am so sick of all the prying eyes.” Elektra said, “Why are you here, Devil?”
He simply repeated, “You killed a man.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Elektra said, “But why does the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen care that one businessman gets found washed ashore? Huh? Did you know him or something? Because the last time I checked, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was more invested in going after organized crime.”
“I was curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.” Elektra mocked him, before reaching for his hand and prying the phone out of it.
His breathing became shallow and uncontrolled when Elektra’s hand had grazed his gloved one. Elektra could see his breath in the katana. For a moment, she thought the breath was matching her heartbeat, but that was ridiculous. Yet, as she thought that, her heartbeat sped up and so did his breathing.
There was a brief moment where neither of them spoke. Where Elektra could almost forget her wounds and the fact that she was holding a katana to his neck. She couldn’t help but stare at him. She had seen pictures of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen before, but all the pictures had been far too blurry to make out any details. So she took this opportunity to take in every clear detail of him.
His costume was a much darker shade of red than Elektra preferred, likely a mahogany red. She couldn’t help but think that he would look excellent in Elektra’s favorite shade, crimson. Besides, crimson screamed “devil” more than this barely red shade. Another detail that Elektra was a bit surprised by, was how the mask completely covered his eyes. She assumed that it was probably see-through, but it was still an interesting choice for a mask. And of course, there were the small horns. For a brief moment, Elektra wondered what came first. The name “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” or the horns? She also wondered if this man in front of her actually believed in devilry or if he just leaned into the motif.
Truthfully, from the moment Elektra had first seen a news article on this vigilante, she had been intrigued by him. After all, it wasn’t every day a masked vigilante with a devil motif would run around New York City, trying to stop criminal organizations. Although she supposed now, it was every day that that did happen.
Anyway, the point was, she had been interested in him, and here he was in front of her. Held back by her blade. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought that she was holding the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s life in her hands. It was a thrilling thought. Even more thrilling than killing James Holt had been.
“But you’re lucky.”
“How so?” His mouth was agape as if he were out of breath. And what a cute mouth it was. What a shame that this was how they were meeting. But it would be an even bigger shame to kill someone with such a cute mouth.
Elektra sighed, and lowered the katana, “Killing you wouldn’t be exciting.”
She then headed for the couch and sat down, in part to show that she wasn’t planning on killing him, but also because she was worried that if she didn’t sit down she would pass out.
“Is that why you kill?” The Devil spat, “For the excitement?”
“I mean, that is part of it,” She said, “But let’s be clear. I’ve only killed once. And let’s just say he had it coming.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
Elektra shrugged, “Maybe not, but if I didn’t decide, no one would. James Holt would go on living in this expensive apartment,” Elektra gestured around to make her point, but the Devil just continued to stare at her.
“We should probably get going,” Elektra said.
“We?” The Devil barked.
“Yes,” She said, “Last time I checked, you're a vigilante who just damaged some property and I’m a suspect in a murder investigation, and I’m currently sitting on the deceased couch, holding his missing phone and a weapon. I’m sure you’ll find me again so we can finish our little ethics debate, but unless you want to do it in a prison cell, *we* have to leave now.”
The Devil then tilted his head to the right as if he were listening for something, almost like a dog. Seconds later, Elektra heard the sound of police sirens, as if they were only coming to prove her point.
“Fine,” He said, “But there is no ‘we.’”
“Very well,” Elektra said, “I’ll let you head out first.”
When he didn’t move, Elektra couldn’t help the seductive smile that began to creep up her face, “I promise, you’re safe with me.”
The Devil snorted but finally moved to the fire escape. Before he headed out the window, he slightly turned back to Elektra and said, “We’re not done here.”
“I’m counting on it, Devil.”
The Devil then darted out the window, refusing to acknowledge what Elektra had just said, and soon enough, Elektra was once again alone in the Holt apartment. It was a complete mess. Luckily, she had been wearing her gloves from the gala so she didn’t need to worry about fingerprints. But to her dismay, she realized that her blood was all over the place.
She quickly turned on the fireplace and tossed the white rug that she had stained blood into. Then she grabbed some paper towels and cleaned up her blood from the bathroom, and the hallway that led to the living room. She tossed those into the fireplace, which was now billowing black smoke. It wasn’t a perfect cover-up, but it would have to do since she heard a banging knock on the door.
“NYPD!” A gruff voice shouted, “Open up!”
No way in Hell was Elektra doing this. She quickly grabbed her red heels, and as another knock sounded, she jumped onto the fire escape and ran from the room, which could possibly catch on fire at any minute due to her lousy cover-up. She had made it down the street when she heard the door explode open.
And so she ran. The cold rough pavement hurt against her feet, but she didn’t have time to think about that. Eventually, she made it back to the limo, and opened the door, hopping in.
The driver turned around, with horror in his eyes, “Ms. Natchios?! What happened?!”
“Do you want a raise?”
“Huh?”
“You have three kids,” Elektra said, remembering one time where he had been bragging about his kids winning some soccer game, and based on his reaction, he hadn’t thought that Elektra had been listening or would remember. So many people assumed that Elektra never listened, but that was far from the truth. She listened, but not because she cared, but because it made moments like this a million times easier, “Do you want a raise so you can buy them the best soccer coach New York can offer? And more vacation days so you can go to more games?”
“Um…well…I-yes,” The driver stuttered.
“Then shut up, drive, and if anyone, and I mean ANYONE asks, this never happened.”
The driver then stiffened in his seat, turned around back to the window, and asked, “Where to, Ms. Natchios?”
“Home,” She said, “But- Take the scenic route.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
Elektra then stuffed the Holt phone in her purse and pulled out her own. She dialed a number and as she expected, it went to voicemail. The next words she said, needed to be phrased very deliberately in case the police got a warrant for either of their phone records.
“Johnson. I heard that your daughter is a big writer. Well, I just found out my father is sponsoring a young writers workshop in D.C. You work so hard, and I just want you to know how much you’re appreciated. I’ve paid for all the expenses and convinced my father to give you paid leave so you can go with her. I am certain it will be a truly wondrous experience. Anyway, call me when you get this, and we can set the details up. Goodbye.”
It’s not like she needed to bribe Johnson, after all, he absolutely adored her, but it was better safe than sorry.
Elektra then finally slumped back into her chair and took a deep breath, now that she had all her i’s dotted and t’s crossed. And for a brief moment, Elektra wondered how Daredevil did it. How did he avoid getting caught? Did he have friends who were his alibis, or was he all on his own, like Elektra? The thought of that, that they could be similar, made Elektra’s heart skip a beat. It was exciting. It was enticing.