6020/Black Sky: The Devil May Care

Black Sky: The Devil May Care
Date of Scene:	19 December 2018
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	A random encounter behind Josie's has Matt and Elektra (as Black Sky) meet again. Unexpectedly, her training fails, and she is unable to kill him, and he raises uncertain feelings and memories within her. Maybe this war isn't so easily won after all.
Cast of Characters:	Elektra, Daredevil
Tinyplot:	Black Sky

---

Elektra has posed:
Madame Gao had seen her weapon in action, and was pleased. Not only had she fought the Daredevil look alike, but she'd also gone full on in a head to head with Richard Dragon. That Gao lost a few choice bodyguards had been of little import when weighed against the fact that Black Sky seemed ready to take on her former allies, and to kill them all without regret.

Thus it was that she'd sent her weapon out to prowl. To learn the streets she'd be preying on her former friends and allies in. With the added caveat that she might take her pleasure as she may. Gao was not worried about random or stray deaths - not when they'd be chalked up to the recent turf wars. That, and Black Sky had already shown herself to be crafty, and to observe the teachings she'd had in her former life.

Unbeknownst to Gao, though, old habits die hard, and Elektra found herself outside Josie's, in the darkened back alley, pondering the familiar surfaces of the filthy place with some confusion.

Daredevil has posed:
Elektra wasn't the only one prowling the streets tonight, Daredevil was there as well, running and jumping roof to roof, for no other purpose than that he could. He had no leads, and truthfully he'd been too afraid to look into where Elektra might be and then add to that the spectacular fizzle with Kate and the man in red had a lot on his mind.

Fortunately punching thugs was good therapy.

He'd stopped a robbery and ran off some local dealers, before finally he turned back and headed home, landing on the rooftop of Josie's and begun to run to leap the alley when his senses alerted someone down below. He didn't recognize them but he could tell they were armed, twin blades, he could smell blood on them.

It didn't take much more than to guess who they were with, the Hand or the Foot, both were against him so take your pick, it didn't make much difference. Though only one though. That was new. Maybe they were running out of ninja...

Heh. Fat chance.

Still, he crouches like a gargoyle above the alley for the moment, watching the woman, trying to gauge their skills before he struck. He was tired and a bit hungover, he didn't want to bite off more than he could chew.

Elektra has posed:
She couldn't put a finger on it - not that Elektra could put her fingers on many things since becoming Black Sky. Everything was new, with a thin veneer of the familiar.

This place, though, this place had more than a veneer, and it puzzled her. Puzzled her enough that she dropped her guard some. Not completely. Just enough. Just enough that while Daredevil watched her from above, she did not immediately alert to his presence.

That, and she found herself fingering the brick of the walls, and touching the large rubbish bin, peering at the back doors that led to this alley - all things that niggled somewhere within that she knew them. Only she had no memories to go with them. At least not any that weren't flashes of light and colour in her mind. Hints of scent that tickled the back of her throat. A feeling that if she closed her eyes, she could navigate this space as though it were an extension of her, and that beyond the exquisiteness of her senses.

She pauses, frowning at the flat of her hand pressed against the bricks nearest the escape ladder on Josie's side of the alley.

Silent.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt wasn't sure of what to make of the warrior touching the walls like she did. Was she blind? Lost? Drunk? He let his senses in and other than the smells from Josie's he couldn't smell booze, and the rest of the sensations he felt in a person, for the most part were simply not there.

What are you? He wonders.

Sticks words come to him then, about meeting Elektra, her having no heartbeat. Could it be?

There was only one way to find out. He jumps.

The leap is graceful, and he snaps out the line from his baton at just the right moment to slow his fall and let him land softly in the alley.

He flicks the line back into the baton, standing bathed in light above Josie's backdoor, a red horned figure armed with a fighting stick.

"Elektra?" he asks, his voice soft and hoarse.

Elektra has posed:
Her reaction is an immediate spin, her hands quickly filled with her twin blades, and her stance one of readiness. Eyes narrowed down upon this man who has dared intrude upon her solitude.

She might have struck out without thought, but for one thing: the name.

He speaks that name, and it strikes a chord within her. Both name and that voice. And then, as she takes him in, eyes still narrowed down upon him, the look of the man. The is an undeniable familiarity to him. Only this time, it is not one of Gao's tests. Or, if it is, he does not smell of things she associates with the woman, or of her usual sparring partners. No, this man smells of something else - something she can't identify, other than it tugs at her and demands her attention.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt's second baton appears in his hand when the blades appear in hers. Her movements were quick, efficient, like a practiced predator. Matt's spoke of training and also hesitation. Weakness as Gao would put it. He was fast, yes, he could be faster and it showed.

His senses were off too, not that she could see that, but it coloured Matt's 'vision' of her, as he struggled to maintain the control that kept out all the world except for the bits he wanted in. Now, though, near the breaking point, the odd thing slips in, the smell of vomit, the too loud sound of a car, the seams of his suit pressed against his skin like razor blades.

All of it led to uncertainty, and guilt. If it was her, shouldn't he know? That's how it had always been, he'd just known when it was her with even the slimmest bit of proof.

"Are you Elektra?" he demands.

Elektra has posed:
There's a preturnatural ease to her stance, and how she holds those blades, and her answer comes with something of a sly smile upon her lips.

"I do not know this Elektra you speak of. You confuse me with someone else."

She'd heard the name before though. More than once now. The other had called her that. The one who had said he had lost someone dear to him. And more recently, there was the one she'd met in the Penthouse, who had claimed he'd known her; that she didn't need to be this.

Elektra wasn't aware of needing to be anything, only that she was. And what she was, was Black Sky.

"You know the old man," she says, then. A statement of fact. "Stick." That was the name, the one he'd given himself, his disappointment showing when it had not gotten a reaction from her.

Daredevil has posed:
Even the voice isn't quite the same. Flatter, deader, lacking the life and sex appeal that Elektra put into every sylable she spoke, still there was something familiar in it.

Hope begun to rise in his chest, even as she denied her name.

The mention of Stick sealed the deal. Holy shit it was her.

His senses cleared as he finds his focus, he can sense the subtle angles of her face, the little details that made her stand out.

Still she didn't seem to know him just as she didn't know Stick.

"Elektra, it's me," Matt says. He does a quick sweep of the alley with his senses, it was clear, "Matthew," he says and throwing caution into the wind, he removes his mask turning his face towards hers.

Daredevil has posed:
Even the voice isn't quite the same. Flatter, deader, lacking the life and sex appeal that Elektra put into every sylable she spoke, still there was something familiar in it.

Hope begun to rise in his chest, even as she denied her name.

The mention of Stick sealed the deal. Holy shit it was her.

His senses cleared as he finds his focus, he can sense the subtle angles of her face, the little details that made her stand out.

Still she didn't seem to know him just as she didn't know Stick.

"Elektra, it's me," Matt says. He does a quick sweep of the alley with his senses, it was clear, "Matthew," he says and throwing caution into the wind, he removes his mask turning his face towards hers.

Elektra has posed:
There's a throaty laugh from the woman - to be sure, merely an echo of her former self, but there are enough hints of the woman she was still there. "Is that supposed to stay my hand? It's me, Elektra."

The laugh mellows.

"The old man thought I should be impressed, too. As did the foolish master who thought to take on an entire cadre by himself. I should not have been so merciful and stuck him before I was given leave. I will not be so foolish next time."

She moves forward, in deliberte and measured steps. "Just like I won't be so foolish this time. Matthew."

Only there's something about mouthing that word that catches it in her throat. Uttering it brings back a wash of memories that are unexpected. The smell of male next to her in a bed. How his laugh sounds, and a picture of the very angle his head would take as he gave that laughter. The feel of the pads of his thumb brushing along her jawline.

The images are both disconcerting, and frightening to her. Frightening because she does not know where they come from, or how to make them stop. Worse, she doesn't know what this feeling is in the pit of her stomach that has her halted in a movement that should have had her striking him down where he stands.

There's a growl of frustration from her.

Daredevil has posed:
The laugh is familar, but the teasing, cuts him deep like only she ever could.

"Damn it, this isn't some strategy, Elektra, I need to see if it's you and not some /thing/ in there," he says honestly. Desperately. His guard was lowered, and if she wanted to strike there would be very little he could do to defend.

He puts his mask back in place and even in doing so he feels her go off kilter when she says his name, hears that growl of frustration escape her lips.

"You remember don't you? You remember me." he says stepping forward now, weapons lowered. "Say my name again, say Matthew," he says.

Elektra has posed:
"And what would that accomplish," she flings out at the man. Clearly perturbed. And just as clearly upset with herself for the fact that he's managed to somehow undercut her calm. To break through the unemotional exterior.

"It's only a name," she sneers. "Matthew. Matthew. Matthew." Murdock, her mind supplies, unbidden, with no sense of why that should mean anything. Other than there's a solid feel to it. A feeling of security. Of.. rightness. Of.. home.

It's that last feeling that has her taking a lunge for him, blades drawn as she ends the lunge in a spin meant to drive her foot towards his head, instead of slicing with those blades. Another thing she does not understand: this hesitation. But she is reminded she has felt this once before - when seeing one much like this one in that training session.

So, too, she is reminded, that she killed that one.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt can tell she's shaken, the part of him trained by Stick tells him this is the time to strike, when she's off balance, unfocused, but he holds back.

"That's right, Elektra, that's my name just like Elektra is yours, Elektra Natchios."

He continues to move toward her until the kick comes lashing out. It was fast, too fast with no breath to pressage it, no change to the beating of her heart. He's hit and hit hard staggering back, blood leaking from his mouth. He wipes it away with the back of his glove.

"Elektra Natchios," he says approaching her again. "Your name is Elektra Natchios. Your father's name was Hugo, you love orchids, I can feel my name means something to you. Remember, Elektra, remember who you are."

He keeps coming towards her, his hands and weapons held by his side.

Elektra has posed:
It's surprisingly unsatisfying to land the kick. He didn't even try to block it, just took it from her - a thing that just adds to her confusion. Elektra isn't sure what to make of this, or why she feels this reluctance to just run him through. It's not like she can't remember fighting the man who looked like him, that Madame Gao had set upon her, or how it had felt to finish him - so why was this any different?

"No," she protests. "I am Black Sky." The words slightly too breathless in her mouth, only adding to the feeling of being unsettled that she carries. She wants to strike him with her blades, but something holds her back, one swinging up, and the other down, arms held defensively for the moment, ready to take action.

She can't force herself to retreat, but neither does she do what she was trained to do.

"You are nothing to me," she says, undertain if she is convincing herself, or him.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt's jaw aches. There's no doubt the kick was in earnest, but if she'd really wanted him dead she'd have used those blades. She didn't though which meant there was hope.

"Are you?" Matt demands as she lifts her blades, he keep walking so if he's not stopped he's resting against those blades. "I was told the Black Sky was the weapon of the Hand. Well, here I am the Hand's enemy up against your blades," he says the words tumbling out with a desperation that has nothing to do with fear for his life. "It's up to you, Elektra. If that's true, prove it."

He lifts his neck exposing his throat, armoured though it was her strength and blades are enough to tear through the fabric and take flesh and blood along with it.

"Or admit that just maybe you're more than a weapon."

Elektra has posed:
"I am Black Sky, Perfect Death," Elektra intones, her words chill and calm now. Or so they would seem. If she had a heartbeat, it would be fluttering, even with her extreme control, because even as she says those words, she isn't sure if she believes them, or what they even mean. Even when she was newly born to this being she did not have so much doubt within her.

It's the words he gives after that force her to move, his challenge to her gaoding her into action. Her motion in time and space is fluid and easy, those blades that are an extension of her moving with a speed that few have the training to accomplish. They should, by all rights, have taken Matt's head off.

Instead, the blades stop, one to each side of his neck paused with such perfect precision that they barely nick through the skin, and even then, only in one spot, a small trickle of blood marking its way down his throat, following the path of the carotid artery.

"I am nothing but a weapon."

Daredevil has posed:
To his credit Matt doesn't flinch save to close his eyes and welcome a death that doesn't come. Feeling the nick and no more than that his eyes open again slowly, and he turns his head towards her.

Aware of the blades at his throat, he yanks off a glove and then reaches up to gently touch her face if she'll let him. To 'see' her clearly, even as he counters. "No. You're Elektra Natchios and you are so much more than a weapon."

He waits to see what she does with that.

Elektra has posed:
The touch is electrifying, and has her, unbidden, closing her eyes against it, leaning for a fraction of a second into it - just enough for him to register that she's done so, before she steadies herself and opens her eyes again, leaning into her blades in such a fashion that they do not cut his throat despite their keen edges, but merely press an indentation into the flesh there.

"I am nothing," she intones in a flat, nearly dead voice. "Elektra Natchios died."

There's disgust as she says it, though the source of that disgust is unclear, even to herself.

Daredevil has posed:
There is a faint gasp as his hand touches her cheek. It /was/ her, Elektra, impossibly back from the grave, if not death, he still felt no heartbeat and she was very cold. The fingers on her cheek grow stiff as she leans in, a momentary reflex of fear before they loosen again.

"I know," he says about Elektra. "I was there when she died, I felt her last heartbeat, heard her last breath. He lowers his hand to touch her chest above her left breast. "She was stuck here, her ribs broken, her lungs filling with blood, she died in my arms, in a place that was special to us. To her and I."

"You are Elektra Natchios, even if you've forgotten, she's not the sort of person who would ever go for good. Look into yourself and you'll see it's true."

Elektra has posed:
His gasp has her stiffening.

"You lie," Elektra spits in quiet disgust. Anger colouring the edges of her voice. Her lean into him with those blades stops, and he would sense that should she put an iota more of pressure into the thing, those edges would do what they had been crafted to do and cut throat, deeply, leaving him to die in a pool of his own spreading blood.

Daredevil has posed:
"If I'm lying, do what you were meant to do and kill me," Matt says soberly without any sign of fear. "Because if Elektra is gone and the Black Sky is all that's left, then I don't want to live. All of it, it's already too much."

There is a pause during which Matt breathes heavily.

"But I have to hope you're in there, Elektra, that you can find your way back to who you were."

Another pause, and he lets his hand return to his side. "What's it going to be?"

Elektra has posed:
She leans in, her face mere millimeters away from his, all the while maintaining that exquisite control on the blades such that they do not cut him. She's so close that should he close the gap - or should she - their lips would meet in less than a heartbeat of time. He can feel the damp moistness of her breath. She might not live or breathe as others do, but as with all things that speak or make noise, breath is necessary. On some level her body functions as others do. It's just not 'living'.

"Elektra is gone," she insists. "There is nothing but Black Sky."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt makes an aproximation of meeting her eyes, his cloaked in the hellish red lenses of his suit. When she leans in close, so close he can feel her breath on him.

"Prove it," he says then closes those milimeters to kiss her.

It's not a passionate or deep kiss, their awkward position and blades at his throat prevent that, but it's a kiss given with feeling, love, and above all hope.

Elektra has posed:
The touch of their lips is an explosion that has her mind afire with too many images to parse at once. Too many things bombarding her that she not only doesn't understand, but finds herself being angry over - angry at her weakness in.. And she has no answer to that. She doesn't know what this weakness is. Or why as much as she wants to complete the single steps that would end him, she can not. Or, worse, why she finds herself unable, for a moment, to break the kiss - a thing she has no desire for, and yet finds herself strangely craving.

It had not been part of her training. She has no word for desire, or for this. All she knows is that she wants to call him a liar, and finds herself wondering if maybe he speaks the truth.

There are no answers.

Instead, her blades are dropped. Let fall to the ground in a careless disregard for their quality. And while she might be unable to cut him down with those, she manages, with an extreme effort of will, to draw back, and push him away - specifially with a thrust backed by chi. A single, powerful burst that is sufficient to break the spell of his lips upon hers. Broken the spell of his words, and touches - touches that have left her flesh bruning everywhere they have lit upon her body.

"No."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt can sense the kiss has had an effect even if his senses don't make it clear what. Even the push, backed with chi that lifts him off his feet and throws him backwards down the alley isn't conclusive. Was she angry, afraid or all of the above? Was she coming back or was this just the Black Sky re-asserting itself? He didn't know.

Picking himself up from where he fell, Matt stands across from her, hands by his sides.

"No, what?" he probes. "Elektra, no what?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra retrieves her blades, bending to gather them, without concerning herself as to whether or not she should gaurd against him. Not that she's noticed she's done this. Her body taking on the confidence of memories she doesn't know she has, knowing he would not strike her down. If it weren't for all the other things of this meeting, one might even be fooled into thinking it was nothing more than one of their old sparring matches.

"No," she repeats. "I am not. I will not."

Any other explanation is lacking.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt makes no move towards her, but it's impossible not to note she's left her guard down. Just as it impossible not to be painfully reminded of sparring matches and better days.

"Elektra, don't go. You don't belong with the Hand. Stick and I will help you, we'll help you find a way back to who you were," he says, taking a step forward now, pleading his case.

Elektra has posed:
"You don't understand," she says simply, looking up from her crouch, blades gathered, and sheathed. "Elektra died. There is nothing but Black Sky left."

Only, as she says it, she's not sure if she believes herself.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt holds his ground but his senses stay firmly on Elektra burning the new her into his mind.

"I don't believe you," he says. "And when you're ready to admit that's not true, come to Hell's Kitchen I'll find you."

If he and his allies didn't find her first. They needed to help her, he wasn't sure how but he would move Heaven and Earth to find a way.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra does not reply. Nor does she do what she knows Madame Gao would have bid her do. Then again, Madama Gao is not here, and under the most technical letters of the law, she had not sent Black Sky out to kill Daredevil, but to familiarize herself with his haunts. His and the rest of the Defenders and their allies.

One moment she is there; the next she is gone.

It isn't clear just how far he's gotten to her, or how much Elektra may remain. One thing is clear though: she can not speak of this to Madame Gao.

Black Sky begins gathering secrets. Slowly, she is becoming more than the weapon that was forged. Perhaps Stick had been right all along: this was never a war about who owned her in the end, but a war about who she would decide to align herself with.

Matt Murdock, Esq, had made his opening arguments.