6121/Black Sky: A Not Quite Chance Encounter

Black Sky: A Not Quite Chance Encounter
Date of Scene:	06 January 2019
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Elektra finds herself drawn to Matt's home and meets with Stick and Matt on the rooftop raising questions about who she is? Elektra or the Black Sky.
Cast of Characters:	Elektra, Daredevil, Stick
Tinyplot:	Black Sky

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Elektra has posed:
She'd been left on her own now for weeks - Madame Gao satisfied with her training and her loyalty, and other than small tasks set to her, Black Sky had been left to her own devices until she would be used for the piece de resistance when the Hand took down the Defenders for good and reclaimed their territory.

Which was all well and good, other than Elektra was having... issues. Snippets of memories that she could not contain. Flashes of sensations that she had no explanation for. Things that kept her restless, and wandering far beyond the amount of time she needed to.

And for some reason, she continually found herself here, circling this block. This building. This.. rooftop sitting across from the building with the great neon sign that beamed its constant read annoyance all night long. This rooftop with it's fire escape and the door that led into an apartment.

This rooftop.

Daredevil has posed:
Night had fallen on New York City, and for Matt Murdock it meant it was time to punch in for his 'other job' not that he'd been doing much of his day job lately, mostly his days had been filled with fake dates with Kate, moping, training and trying to make sense of what his life had become, which was in itself was a full-time job. That meant when night came, he was glad for the clarity of being Daredevil, making change, literally, with his own two hands.

With his suit on, he makes his ways up the stairs to his appartment's rooftop access, pulling on the top of his cowl just before pushing through the door onto the rooftop. There was no doubt where Daredevil had come from, there was only one other door to the roof and that was on the otherside of the building, it was a moment his identity was the most vulnerable, so he moves quickly, leaving the doorway to spring back towards the building's water tower, intending to climb it, and let his senses fill him in on what was going on in Hell's Kitchen, he doesn't sense he's not alone, not yet.

Elektra has posed:
The square of light from the doorway as it opens is a surprise. An unexpected change. And one that leaves Elektra curious, moving with silent care from one shadow to the next, following the man. It doesn't take her long to figure out who it is, though she's uncertain why it is he is here. How it is he is here.

She has yet to figure out that this is his home. Where he lives.

She certainly has no reason to connect that, and her past, with why she has been haunting this place..

Daredevil has posed:
Climbing the ladder to the slick top of the water tower, Daredevil nimbly crosses to its center, perching there in a low crouch. Settled, he lets out a slow breath that turns into a white mist as soon as it's gone from his body then, slowly he opens himself up to the city around him, riding the waves of sensation seeking out the little hints of something amiss in his city...

He finds one, closer than he though. The faint crunch of frost under foot, close, but he's not entirely sure where. He leaps from the water tower, lands, then rolls into cover. While he'd been knee deep in ninja lately, he hadn't forgotten that some of his enemies used guns and cover was often the best bet when surprised.

Still, he was more curious than afraid. "Hello?" he calls into the night.

Elektra has posed:
There's a flicker of a smile that flirts upon Elektra's lips. How he reacts. That drop. That roll. He's good, but she's better. And she can tell he hasn't yet honed in on her. Then again, she's not yet remembered his ability to sense things in his blindness. It's not a thing she's thought about, truly. If she had, it might have given her pause.

Then again, so many things were still not making sense to her in this new 'life' she had.

His caution gives her a space to come around him, to move in from behind. She's light on her feet. There's barely a sound. In fact, if it weren't him, there would be no traceable sound. But in the way he can hear a heartbeat, the barest touch of her flesh upon surfaces leaves a tremor he can detect.

It's only when she's come up fully behind him that she speaks, drawing first one, and then the other of her paired wakizashi, flipping them around in her hands with indolent ease. It's clear she has no intent (yet) to use them, but is making a point.

"Dare I dance with the devil in the pale moonlight.. if there's music playing, I can't hear it." A pause. "Hello, Matthew."

Daredevil has posed:
"Elektra," the name comes with another silvery breath as Mat turns. He can hear the weapons glide free of their sheathes but he makes no move for his own weapons. A show of trust, he does not fear she'll kill him.

"I can," he says of the music. "Though it's not the sort for dancing."

Out of his crouch he studies her with his senses. "You sound more like yourself though, that's good. Is that why you're here, Elektra?" he asks, his heartbeat increasing. Was she free? Was it over? He hoped so.

Elektra has posed:
"Matthew," she breathes again, stepping forward, hands and weapons held with that same negligent ease. It's clear she either finds him no threat or she has another agenda. At least for the moment.

"If not for dancing, what then?" There's a ripple of perplexed that flits over her features, too short-lived to be much of anything. There's a flicker of memory in the back of her head - soemthing to do with music, and hearing it. More, there's a memory. A feeling of heat. Body pressed on body. The whisper of breath at her ear - or was it at his - suggesting they 'get out of here'. The sound of a car engine revving. Laughter. Wind. And a song on the radio..

"I don't understand," she says of sounding like herself. "Who else would I sound like?" Her question falters, like her steps, suddenly, when brushed against that memory.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt almost smiles to hear his name, almost. Though when she goes on to speak with that same slightly stilted voice, making it plain the world did not yet make sense, he frowns, faintly, his disapointment palpable. He should have known better than to get his hopes up.

Without knowing it, Matt's thoughts tred the same path, memories of dancing, of escaping the dull cling of the party for the waiting car, Thunderstruck on the radio (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqA0PN4diWg)...

His thoughts return to the present, murmuring the song idly, "Thunderstruck," before he answers a faint, sad, shard of a smile appearing. "And the music is for fun. For feeling."

As to the other question. "I mean, you sound like Elektra and not the Black Sky. Or, you did."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra's lips curl over the memory of a smile, her voice a soft lilt as she offers:

~And I knew there was no turning back
My mind raced
And I thought what could I do
And I knew
There was no help, no help from you~

Her voice a rich alto before she adds, ~Thunderstuck~

Shaking her head as if annoyed. "Quite trying to confuse me. I am Black Sky. Why would I be other?"

But that niggle. That pull every time he says that name: Elektra. She can't banish it, and that fact alone has her on edge, feeling a tension that she shouldn't by all rights feel. A thing that if Madame Gao knew...

Only Madame Gao doesn't. More's the pity.

Daredevil has posed:
"You remember," Matt says a smile returning to his lips, a full one this time," he says as she sings, falling silent as she brings it to a close. In better circumstances he might have applauded, but they had the ones they got, seemingly alone, on the roof with weapons in Elektra's hand.

Matt takes a risk, closing the distance between them putting his gloved hand against her face. "Because that's who you are, Elektra, and you are more than some old woman's weapon. You're a woman, an amazing one, one I love. You're remembering, so you have to be in there, somewhere, you have to be," he brushes his thumb against her cheek. "Come on," he urged. "Come back to me."

Elektra has posed:
"You say those words like they have meaning," she murmurs, taking a half step to the side, forcing him to change his position and follow her. It has the unintended result of pressing her cheek further into that hand, an action that sends a flutter through her insides.

"Where would I go," she asks on a whisper. Shakes her head again, and says more forcefully, "There's no one inside me, Matthew. You're hoping for a miracle that won't come. She's dead. She died so long ago."

Those are words that feel both very very true, and very very wrong. Her mind flicking back to a time when everything seemed oversized - a child's view - and trying to understand what was being said around her. Not even to her. Someone had died. Had died. Had died...

Somewhere inside her, something had died then. In that little girl.

And then he had come. The other one. The old man. Stick.

Stick has posed:
     "You have a choice, Elektra. You can wallow in your pain, or you can use it to strengthen yourself. It's your choice, I can't make it for you." Those were the words he told her so long ago, he was still old then, but just as cantankerous.

  Today's Stick had made himself an entrance through a window. "Do you remember what I told you?" He asks, arms folded in front of him, still wearing that 60's era army surplus olive drab clothing he was often seen in. "It applies to you now too." His distinct smell was on the air, incense, gunpowder, blood, and sweat mixed with beer and whiskey.

Daredevil has posed:
"They do, Elektra," Matt says, moving with her to keep his hand pressed against her cheek, to keep standing close to her.

"And you could stay here, with me. Or We could go somewhere, far away, you gave me your money, we could go anywhere do anything..."

Then Stick arrives, joining them on the roof, a surge of embarassment goes through him, his old mentor catching him, being so sentimental but it's just a relic of his past, easily pushed aside. He stand by Elektra still.

"Listen to him Elektra, he's right."

Elektra has posed:
She turns, her body a flash of movement as Stick arrives on the scene, the contact with Matthew broken, and whatever spell he was weaving going with it. She has no heartrate to raise, but if she did, her heart would be pounding - not out of fear or surprise at Stick's arrival, but out of the things he, and Matthew, were bringing up.

She remembers then. He'd told her it was her choice. How she could turn her pain into something useful. How she could make them pay for her father's death. How she'd taken his hand, and given tacit approval to the old man even then for what he'd done to her.

And how she'd not forgiven him for it.

There's a deep well of anger and pain that rises in her. These men - these two men - have been the centre of her universe for years. And here they are, again, forcing her to confront things that make no sense. And of the things she is being forced to face, Stick's is truly the easiest..

"There is nothing left to chose," she says, voice halting over her words. It's clear they're getting through to her on some level.

"It was never love," she hisses at Stick, because he's the easiest to say that to, even as she knows he stood in that alleyway, and would have let her strike him down, telling her she was the daughter he wished he'd had. "She died," Elektra insists, weapons pulled up to protect her now. It's clear that it's a protective, not an agressive gesture. Again, an anomally to her training. To what she was raised to be - both by Stick, or by Madame Gao.

Then again, perhaps Stick sees, now, that protection is what she always needed. Or perhaps it is Matthew who understands that the weapon she is - the blade they would make of her - is only as strong as the emotions behind it. And that Love always trumped Hate. Always.

Stick has posed:
     "Obviously. But you know who we talk about. Elektra is Black Sky, and Black Sky is Elektra." The old man says nothing else, but he seems a little miffed. "So, you say she's dead, we say no. I don't think you can convince either side to change their opinion."

Daredevil has posed:
"Stick," Matt greets as Elektra pulls away from him.

He'd be soo close... or at least he'd thought so.

Stepping closer arcoss the rooftop, hands out by his side, non-threatening. "You died, but they brought you back," he didn't know what she'd meant, thinking her physical death not the damage done by the Hand taking her father from her. "But that doesn't make you theirs, hell, it doesn't even make you the Black Sky, you're more than that, better than that."

A glance is given to Stick and his arguments. "He's right there too, I'm not changing my mind about you Elektra, whatever the Hand has made you, you're still Elektra Natchios and I still love you."

Elektra has posed:
"I did not die," she says confused. And yet.. she did, didn't she?

One hand, still holding its wakizashi reaches up to her chest, where Lady Shiva's killing blow had landed. A pained expression creeps up over her features. "It didn't hurt," she says softly. "I thought it would hurt. Instead, it was just... peaceful. I didn't want to say goodbye.."

Her eyes seek out Matt, unwillingly.

"You were there."

Daredevil has posed:
"You did," Matt confirms. "You died but you came back, they brought you back, now you just have to come a little bit further and reclaim the woman you were."

None of that was certain, but as Matt said it, it felt right. He prayed that it was.

The talk of her death conjurs up the memory, "I was there, I held you when you died, I didn't want you to die either, but there was nothing I could do, even if I could have saved your life the Hand was waiting to use you like it's doing now, to make you their weapon, their Black Sky."

Matt steps a little closer, "You were willing to die to keep it out of their hands, now the question is Elektra, are you willing to live to do the same?"

Elektra has posed:
"Shut up," she hisses, beginning to circle about them now. "Lies. You tell lies. You want me to -"

And there she stops, because what? What did they want her to do? What was it they wanted to make of her? The only answer she had made truth of Matt's words: make a weapon of her.

Only, what if.. what if.. Matt's words held more truth than that?

The hand she clenches at her heart tightens about the hilt of her blade, her other hand coming up to join it. All the words stirring in her head in a confused jumble. She remembered dying. She remembered wanting to die to stop them. She remembered that. So why was she what she was? Why was she Black Sky? Why did she look to Madame Gao?

There were no echoing words of assurance in her mind that came from the older woman. None.

But oddly, she remembers the bow of respect that Lady Shiva had given her.

Elektra's hands act as if numb, dropping the blades she holds, letting them fall to the roof with indignity not meant for such exquisite craftsmanship, and she begins to back up.

"No," she insists. Only she isn't sure who or what she is denying anymore.

Elektra has posed:
"Shut up," she hisses, beginning to circle about them now. "Lies. You tell lies. You want me to -"

And there she stops, because what? What did they want her to do? What was it they wanted to make of her? The only answer she had made truth of Matt's words: make a weapon of her.

Only, what if.. what if.. Matt's words held more truth than that?

The hand she clenches at her heart tightens about the hilt of her blade, her other hand coming up to join it. All the words stirring in her head in a confused jumble. She remembered dying. She remembered wanting to die to stop them. She remembered that. So why was she what she was? Why was she Black Sky? Why did she look to Madame Gao?

There were no echoing words of assurance in her mind that came from the older woman. None.

But oddly, she remembers the bow of respect that Lady Shiva had given her.

Elektra's hands act as if numb, dropping the blades she holds, letting them fall to the roof with indignity not meant for such exquisite craftsmanship, and she begins to back up.

"No," she insists. Only she isn't sure who or what she is denying anymore.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt stands firm as Elektra circles, "Want you to what, Elektra?" he challenges. "What have we asked you to do but be who you were born to be. To be Elektra Natchios, it's the Hand that wants to use you as a weapon."

When she stops Matt turns to face her, hands still by his side making no move to threaten her.

"All we want is you," he tells her, as the swords drop.

Then as she backs away denying...whatever it was she denies he, hesitates for only a moment unsure if he should follow or not before he chooses follow.

"Elektra, it's okay, you don't have to be their weapon."

Elektra has posed:
"No," she repeats. More firmly now. Trying to be certain. She was Black Sky. Elektra was dead. There was no going back.

Only her weapons lie between her and the men, and too far away. Not that she needs them, but there will be questions later - questions she won't have an answer for.

"I am not Elektra," she tells him, backing up the last few feet she knows are between her and the edge of the rooftop. "Elektra is.." She can't make herself says that name and dead in the same sentence. The words die in her mouth. She tries again. "She is dead."

All the while, her brain screams things at her. Tells her No - to turn to him. To them. Take up what they offer... But that woman died, didn't she? She remembers that. She was there. That woman died to stop a war.

She had failed.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt continues on closing on the weapons stopping between them when she reaches the ledge and he stops his pursuit.

"I don't believe it," Matt says. "You're Elektra and you are alive. I don't know what it will take to prove it but I will." He bends down to collect the blades, picking them up and gripping them by their slender blades in his gloved hand.

It was torture he felt like Elektra was right on the edge of more than just the building, that just a little step would bring her back to herself and back to him.

"Please," he says. "Come back to me."

Elektra has posed:
"I... can't" is all Elektra says simply as she turns and throws herself over the edge of the building, catching herself on handholds and fire-escapes, and making her way to the alley below, heading off into the night.

He won't know it, at least not until later, but his words - his and Stick's - have unsettled her to the point of mistake. Tonight she will falter when she should not, and there will be injury. Injury that there is no excuse for. If he wanted proof that she is still in there, it will be in that.. but for now, she is nothing more than a shadow that has fled.