3871/Rising Tide: A Little

Rising Tide: A Little
Date of Scene:	14 February 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Elektra has a 'visit' with Genus of the Rising Tide, and 'convinces' him that he wants to stay on her good side, all while investigating if Rising Tide knows about Daredevil.
Cast of Characters:	Elektra, Arnim Zola
Tinyplot:	Rising Tide

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Elektra has posed:
In the end it wasn't as hard to find someone connected with Rising Tide as she thought based on Matt's complaints. All it took was looking in the right direction, and if there was one thing Elektra had a lot of.. well, as many Hands make light work, they also have many eyes. And gang connections.

And that was how she'd found him: One Victor Ivanhoff, laundring penny ante bits of money and bitcoin through a tiny hole in the wall borsht dive in the Russian quarter.

It was almost too easy.

Once she had him, she'd had him brought to her. To one of the many little places The Hand kept for just such occassions. She'd had Victor brought to her, wearing a hood, of course, so that he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten here. Tied him to a chair in the middle of a dank concrete bounded room with a bare bulb shining in his face. Left him there for hours wondering his fate...

And then approached him.

"An. What have we here, then? A little rabbit I hear. Tell me, little rabbit, how much do you value your life?"

Arnim Zola has posed:
Victor aka Genus hadn't seen it coming. Yeah, it wasn't the most hidden place in the world but that back room was supposed to be safe. The guys who ran that borsht dive were tough, at least, as tough as Victor ever saw outside of those PMC types Karl hired to watch over the Inner Circle. He'd ditched his tonight, which he was regretting now that he was flung into a chair with the bag over his head. A bag that smelt faintly of blood and old vomit. He guessed that Burn Notice show was right, sometimes they don't bother to clean the bags.

The voice outside the blackness of the bag had an alluring quality that made it all the more terrifying. Was this the person pulling Karl's strings? Was this someone working with that Pennyworth psycho? He didn't know. Breathing heavily, and regretting that fact due to the smell he answers with, "Quite a bit," he says. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Elektra has posed:
"Who I am, and what I want aren't your concern." The 'yet' was implied. "But I do want to know more about these people you work for and what they're up to. You've caused a lot of troubles with this little stunt you've pulled."

There is the sound of pacing around him, but the steps are a deliberation. Meant both to deceive as to her placement, and also because she did not leave sounds behind unless she wanted to. As it was, the echoes of her footsteps seemed to come from all angles at once, surrounding him, until her hand was on his shoulder and her voice was whispered through the thick, putrid fabric of the bag, "Tell me what I want to know, and I might let you live. Lie to me, and believe me, I will know if you are lying, and we'll begin by cutting off uncesseary bits. Most only try lying once or twice, but really, we can carry on until you run out of bits. The choice is yours. Begin with who you're working for and what they're trying to achieve."

She wasn't just finding out about what, if anything, they knew about Matt - Rising Tide had caused her grief, too. She was dealing with several birds with one stone here.

Arnim Zola has posed:
Victor swallows under the hood. He didn't know this woman, but something in her tone suggested he ought to take her seriously.

His head whips around trying to follow the sounds he's hearing, in the vain attempt to know where danger might come from. "Listen I don't want to lose any parts, so I'll try my best to tell you what you want to know," he offers. His words sound earnest and desperate.

Elektra has posed:
There's a soft tsk of a sound from her, and the hand on her shoulder lingers along his neck, then trails along his chest before a hard jab hits him just over the heart. "Tell me about your - no, actually, let me begin again. Talk to me about these Index Files your employer is releasing. Do you have a copy?"

Arnim Zola has posed:
Victor takes a breath of the fetid air inside the bag. The Index Files, he wish they'd never gotten the stupid things. They were the source of almost all of their troubles. Though if this woman was after those and not people, he could live with that. "I know where we're keeping them and can get access." Again the words ring true.

Elektra has posed:
The jab is replaced by at pat on Genus' chest.

"Good. Very good. Because you're going to bring me a copy after I let you go. No worries, I'll send a friend along to make certain you don't get any heroic ideas, but a very good start."

She nods to herself and moves aay again, this time silently, letting his stew in worries that she might be anywhere.

"Now. Your employers. Why did they want the Index Files to begin with? What was the purpose of stealing them?"

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus flinches from the pat at first, expecting another jab, but relaxes only a little when he realizes what it was. The point was made, whether he hurts or not was entirely in her hands. Then she's moving again and he loses track of her. "They didn't steal them, they bought them, or traded for them. Someone else stole them but we released them. I don't know the name of the person who got them but the guy pushing for their release was named Karl. I never got a last name." Genus didn't think of himself as a snitch, but seriously, fuck Karl and fuck the Index. If this lady got to Karl, Genus would consider it a service to humanity. Plus, as a bonus, talking let him keep his parts.

Elektra has posed:
"Karl, hrm?" Elektra mulls the name. She didn't know of any Karl's on the scene. He was either new, or it was a new alias. Either way, it was a beginning. "Tell me more about this Karl. Any particular habits or features you recall? Accent?"

He was right. Whether Genus lived or died was in her hands as we how much pain of pleasure he felt. Well, the pain at least.

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus thinks about what to say for a moment, or how best to describe the weirdness that was Karl. "I dunno, he's about my height, dark skin, close cut hair, tries to dress cool but doesn't pull it off. It's like he's an alien wearing a human skin suit, just doesn't seem like what we're seeing is him. He's got money though, and access to what I'm guessing are top quality mercs. He's throwing both around liberally now."

Elektra has posed:
The details are locked away in Elektra's mind. She's gone on less. It had all been part of her training. A vision already forming in her mind about what he might look like. Running the details through several variants of things like skin tone, slight differences in height, how he might look with different coloured or longer or shorter hair. The picture was forming, and it left her smiling a cold, tight memory of a smile.

The bit about an alien wearing a human skin suit stood out. She'd remember that, and all the awkwardness it brought to bear in her mind.

"I see. Anything else? What is he after? Other than the names you've been throwing around equally liberally. I take it nobody cares who gets hurt." This little stunt with the net went to prove that to her.

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus makes himself think back, he'd only met Karl twice and seen him from a distance a handful of other times. He scrambles for details. "I dunno, he likes to drink, but he never seems to get drunk, drinks a bunch of weird stuff off the menu too, like never the same drink," he knew that was probably useless. "As for what he wants I am not sure, he doesn't seem to give a shit about anything, he has us doing the Index one day and taking down the net the next. I don't see a pattern." He shifts about trying to get of sense of where his captor is. "There are people in the Tide who care, some left over the Index thing, others over the net thing, I mean, I am only there because SHIELD killed my friend," he says. It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth. He was there because of Saff's death, but not because he thought SHIELD killed her, but because he thought Karl did.

Elektra has posed:
Useless. No, not quite. Probably not even close.

It told Elektra that whoever this Karl was he didn't drink. At least not the way most did. Most had a beverage, or a family, that they enjoyed most. A flavour profile. Things that were their go-to's in social situations of various sorts, and usually sorted by the social situation. That he'd not repeated drinks, coupled with the 'in a human suit' comment told her that there was something more to this Karl than just oddness.

It was a place to start looking. And a place to start tearing his world apart.

She might even consider it a singular mission given what he'd done.

"SHIELD killed your friend, did they? Which one was this? The one spilling her guts over the net, or the one taken out by the professional?" She didn't need to ask, but his answers would be telling. Of course it was the one spilling her guts. The other was more personal. And something of an anomally. "These others in Rising Tide. Are they willing to turn against this Karl?"

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus grimaces, it irked him to hear Saffron talked about like that, but fear and good sense kept him from making an issue of it. "The first one," comes his curt reply. The other question gives him some pause. "Maybe, if his guys weren't with them 24/7 they'd be willing as it stands, whatever they do wouldn't last long before they ended up with a bullet in their head."

Elektra has posed:
There's a soft chuckle from Elektra. "I see. So SHIELD killed your friend, did they?" There's the sound of her moving closer, and the feel of air moving past him, then nothing again until a soft whisper by his ear. "The thing about lies, is, they always come out. So tell me again, who do you think killed your friend?"

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus' breathing picked up. That was the question wasn't it. If this woman was sent by Karl or Miles then he'd already said to much. If she wasn't, then holding back was just as deadly. He wanted to be anywhere else but here. Oh god.

"I don't know anything for sure!" he blurts out, it was a non-answer. "Just please let me go. I don't know who you're working for, but please, I just want to get out of here."

Elektra has posed:
"Who I'm working for?" There's a throaty laugh from the woman, the sound filling the room. "How very rich."

Elektra's fingers curl about his neck where the bag sits upon his shoulders, and put the slightest of pressures there. "Now, now, little rabbit, all in due time. As for whom I work for, let us say that I'm something of self-employed. I could make you just another example for your employer, but I think that there's so much more I could do with you than slice you open and leave your entrails as a warning. Don't you?"

The pressure on his neck tightens, the hands there making a slight twist of a gesture, just enough to hint at what she could so easily do there. Then, just as easily as the pressure was there, it's gone.

"I'm going to let that little lie of yours be. Let us both be certain though, if your employer is killing their own, then you're a liability. And right now, you live by my pleasure. It would be nothing to merely let slip how helpful you were... or... you can help me."

"Your choice."

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus freezes when that hand is put upon his neck. "Okay, you don't work for anyone, then why are you doing this?" he asks. "A-and I'd definitely like my entrails where they are," he says the words are almost funny but he's terrified and serious.

The twist has his whole body go rigid with fear. He tilts his head up towards the sound of the voice.

At the mention of letting all of this slip to Karl, cringes inward. "Alright, what more do you need?"

Elektra has posed:
"Never you mind why I'm doing this, little rabbit. My reasons are my own."

She gives something of a sigh, making it sound like she's terribly bored. "First, you're going to get me a copy of those Index Files. And secondly, you're going to report to me. I think I want to know what the Rising Tide is doing. They've made themselves something of a nuisance, and I've decided I've had enough. And since I have you sitting so neatly in my palm, I've decided I like you."

She says the word 'like' in dark tones, making it sound something of a curse.

"Far be it from me to not use all the advantages I have. And you, little rabbit, want to please me, don't you?"

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus is stock still the woman makes her demands. The Index Files, were not so much a problem, but reporting to her, that was, it sounded like a very permanent arrangement. Not that he'd say anything but yes of course, he wasn't lying when he said he liked his entrails where they were. "Okay," he says with a rapid nod. "How do you want me to get in touch?"

When she asks if he wants to please her, he nods again, just as quickly. "Sure, yeah, I mean yes." His heart was definitely not in it but he was afraid enough to say anything

Elektra has posed:
"That little hole in the wall I found you in. There." Her voice comes from across the room. She's moved considerably since she last spoke, but there hadn't been a sound to betray her. "And let me make this quite clear should you be thinking of betraying me. Should you betray me, I shall begin by finding out everyone and anyone you care about, and hunt them down. One by one. And as I kill them - and I will kill them, make no mistake about it - I'll let each and every one of them know why they've been sentenced to death. Then I'll find you and start with cutting your tongue out. After that I will introduce you to a world of pain such as where you'll wish you had it to choke yourself to death with. Only I won't let you die. Not until I'm bored with finding new and inventive ways to make you squirm, little rabbit."

"Do I make myself clear?"

Arnim Zola has posed:
His head snaps around when he hears the voice across the room suddenly. Her ability to move quietly like that was disconcerting. "Listen, I got it, I screw you everyone I know dies and then I die in agony. I'll do what you tell me to do, okay," he says with a tremulous voice. "And sure, I'll leave the files there like you ask, if they let me back in there again. I don't know what your people did to them, but they won't be happy. And if you want things sooner, hell take the mask of my head, untie me and get a laptop and I can get you the files right now." His voice had taken on a desperate quality.

"And yes, perfectly clear," Genus says.

Elektra has posed:
"Hm." The sound is thoughtful and considered. "Very well. I'll bring you what you need."

Even through the mask he should be able to tell that the lights have gone out. There's a darker quality to the darkness he's in. For the longest time (or so it seems) there is nothing but silence. When the silence breaks, it is punctuated by the sounds of things dragging, and nothing more. Then a *snap* of sound, and the quality of light through the mask changes again.

The mask is removed, and Genus finds himself sitting at a table, set up with a laptop, and what looks to be all the things he'll need.

There are two masked figures with him. One definitely male. The other possibly male? It's hard to tell. And two spotlights shining in his face from opposite angles to a centre point fixed on him. Much like spotlights in a theatre.

From the darkness beyond, Elektra's voice drifts to him. "Do what you need to. But be aware you're being watched by people who will be able to tell what you're doing, and should you stray, our little agreement comes into effect."

The silence tells him he should begin.

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus blinks and raises his hand to shield his face from the light as the bag is removed. After a few moments he is vision begins to adjust and he glances at the two guards, the computer and gazes into the darkness a moment after the voice.

He takes a breath, one that's not tainted by the smell of blood and vomit. Or rather, not as much, the smell still clung to his nostrils and he suspected it'd stay for awhile. His next breath comes through his mouth as he sets to work. He connects to one of the dark web access points then Rising Tide had been using to communicate through the blackout. Then from there he accessed one of their data caches with a several passwords, ones the guards will be able to read they can keep up with the motion of his fingers typing 112 words per minute. After a few more clicks and a sweep or two of his hand across the track pad, he says, "There," and turns the computer to face the voice in the darkness, the screen showed the progress of the download, it'd be only a few more minutes before she had the files.

Genus peers into the dark, "So, is this good? Are you happy now?"

Elektra has posed:
There's the sound of snapped fingers. One of the figures take the laptop and examines what Genus has done, nods, then downloads the files onto a thumbdrive that they then carry over to Elektra.

Once that's over, she speaks again. "We're good for now. But you will keep in touch. One of my men will take you to a drop point. You will make regular reports to that drop point on unmarked thumb drives. I expect to hear from you within seven days. If I don't, I will remember our little conversation and begin making my point."

She must make a signal of some sort, because the bag is shoved back over his head from behind, and he's roughly manhandled away.

There's a ride in a vehicle - likely a van. The ride is rough and bumpy. Outside are the distant sounds of sirens. Honking of horns. Just bits and pieces of sound without direction.

When the vehicle comes to a stop, there's the sound of the van doors opening - it is a van. Or perhaps a small delivery truck. He's wordlessly, and roughly, thrown to the ground, followed by the sound of the squeal of tires tires pealing away.

Arnim Zola has posed:
Genus waits and watches while the man checks over the computer. Genus had been too scared to do more than what was asked for but still, he worries until the man gives a nod to the darkness and extracted them thumbdrive.

He waits for approval then, when the instructions are given, he can't do anything but nod. "Alright, seven days, got it."

He didn't know how to get out of this but when he's grabbed, bagged and shoved into a van he doesn't have time to think. He's too worried that despite the woman's words they're taking him somewhere to whack him. So, when he's tossed out onto the street and hears the car pull away, he's relieved and lays there until the sound of an approaching car has him rolling to the side. After that, he gets, up finding his hands had been cut loose (they'd long since gone numb) and pulling off the bag. He was somewhere in the city, tired, sore and scared but at least he was alive. The rest, he'd figure out.