Chapter Text
Elektra
The interrogation room was completely sterile, an absolute void. The walls and floors were the same shade of dark gray and the only form of furniture of decoration was a metal table and two matching metal chairs. It was absolutely pitiful. A stark contrast to Elektra Natchios’s lavish apartment, which she was oh so used to. From the glittering chandeliers to the black marble floors, which were regularly cleaned by a staff she barely saw, Elektra had everything she could want. At least, she should. But she supposed that if she were perfectly content, she wouldn’t be sitting on the cold metal chair at the police station.
“Do you know why you’re here, Ms. Natchios,” the detective asked mockingly, all the while mispronouncing her name.
Elektra did her best not to hiss at him and gave him her most innocent doe eyes, “I’m afraid not, officer.”
The detective pulled a chair up to the metal table in front of Elektra and started, “Do you know James Holt?”
At the sound of that name, Elektra’s heart rate picked up ever so slightly. She had expected that Mr. Holt was the reason for her confinement, but that still didn’t change her physiological response to the name. And Elektra suspected that that was exactly what the detective was hoping for. Of course she knew James Holt. She knew she knew him, and so did the detective. He was attempting to catch her in a lie, like a spider catching a fly in its web.
Elektra couldn’t allow herself to be caught so she said, “James? Of course. He works at my father’s company. He’s a really gifted young man. My father even hopes to make him his COO one day.”
All of that was true, but of course, she had left out more true details. Like how James was a pig who hadn’t deserved to breathe the same air as any human. Or how she knew he would never become the COO of her father’s company.
The detective took a couple of notes in an old journal and without even looking up, he asked, “So were you close with him?”
Elektra paused, pretending to think about it, “I suppose not really. We have rather…differing personalities if I’m to be honest. While I respect his work for my father, I just never felt the need to get to know him beyond surface-level things.”
The detective nodded along and opened his mouth to speak, but Elektra cut him off, “Wait,” she said, forcing her voice to have a mix of confusion and concern in it, “What do you mean by ‘were’?”
“Excuse me?”
With a faux sense of urgency, Elektra said, “You asked if I ‘were’ close to James. Past tense.”
The detective sighed at that, either because he realized he had let something slip that he shouldn’t have or because he did not believe a single word of Elektra’s act. Elektra needed it to be the former rather than the ladder.
“Officer…what aren’t you telling me?”
The detective took an even deeper breath before saying, “Around 48 hours ago, James Holt was found, washed ashore on a beach.”
“Oh my God,” Elektra gasped, “Is he okay?”
The detective’s face was completely stoic, likely trying not to give anything away, “I’m afraid not, ma’am.”
Elektra forced her hands to shoot up to cover her mouth as she said, “Oh lord. Wha- What happened?”
“The coroner's office has confirmed that he died before impact. Asphyxiation. He was likely dumped into the ocean to make it look like a drowning.”
“Wait…you’re not saying,” Elektra cut herself off with a fake sob, “You’re not saying someone…murdered him…are you?”
For the first time since the officer had entered the interrogation room, Elektra saw his resolve falter, even if it was ever so slightly and contained to just his eyes. She had still shaken him. Thank God for her years of drama club during college. Her father had forced her to join a club and at the time, it had been the last thing she’d wanted to do, but she had to admit, it had finally come in handy.
“That’s what it appears to be,” The officer said.
“Oh God,” Elektra let out a shaky breath, “Is- Is there anything…anything I can do?”
The officer frowned, “I thought you said you weren’t close.”
“No, we weren’t,” Elektra said defensively, “But he just died, detective. I’m not heartless. He was a colleague and a fine good one at that. My father will be absolutely devastated, so if there is anything I can do-”
But before Elektra could finish her rehearsed monolog, the door to the outside world burst open. Both the detective and Elektra looked towards the blinding light from the door, and it seemed that the detective was just as confused as Elektra. Once their eyes adjusted to the light they saw a man with tousled brown hair. He was wearing an untailored gray suit that looked as if it came from the clearance bin, a wrinkled white dress shirt, a maroon tie that was tied slightly incorrectly, and most strikingly of all, a pair of glasses with red lenses. He practically charged into the room with a mobility cane guiding his path.
“Elektra Natchios?” He asked and for whatever reason, Elektra felt a static run through her spine at hearing his rough voice say her name.
“Yes?”
“Don’t say another word.” The man in the red glasses said.
“Who are you?” The detective asked the question Elektra had wanted to ask.
The man said, “I’m Matthew Murdock of Nelson and Murdock. I’m Ms. Natchios’s lawyer.”