8696/Mary Shelley Ain't Got Nothing On This

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Mary Shelley Ain't Got Nothing On This
Date of Scene: 08 August 2019
Location: Alleyway, Clinton
Synopsis: Elektra and Tyhoid meet. Surprisingly (or not) they get on.
Cast of Characters: Typhoid Mary, Elektra




Typhoid Mary has posed:
The alley behind Josie's is usually not busy. Sometimes the back door of the bar opens to allow someone to bring out the trash but that's about the only traffic it sees. But tonight, someone is there. Sitting atop a dumpster, there is a dark figure whistling softly to herself.

Typhoid is in charge at the moment. It's obvious from the way she looks. Her red hair is in dreadlocks, hanging halfway down her back. She is wearing a harness of some sort for a top, instead of an actual shirt. The only thing that keeps her decent is a bit of electrical tape and a leather jacket over the top. Though the jacket is worn open so it's not helping much. Her pants are...strange. One leg is solid leather. The other is cut off with a fishnet stocking beneath. She has a pair of katanas across her back and a machete in a sheath along her right leg.

Perhaps the oddest thing is one side of her face is covered in white makeup, like a half Kabuki. She is whistling an old song to herself: Monday Monday.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra has been prowling the rooftops. It's been a quiet night as far as these things go. Middle of the week really wasn't a highlight for crime. That was the weekend, usually.
5rThat's okay, Elektra had been out there as much for clearing her head as trying to get into trouble. It hadn't worked, though. Not that she could really pinpoint what it was that was bothering her.

Other than Shredder and the Foot clan. But that was old news as much as new.

Noting the 'guest' on the dumpter, Elektra drops down quietly, beside her.

"Wrong day of the week, but catchy tune."

She, herself, is decked out with her usual nightcrawling gear, including her trademark sai.

Typhoid Mary has posed:
As Elektra makes her appearance, the woman turns her head but that's about it for reaction. Her back is braced on the solid wall, one leg stretched out on the dumpster top while the other is bent at the knee, foot resting flat. "One of my favorites," she says, telling the complete truth. She draws up the leg that had been extended, folding it under almost in a tailor style posture. Beneath th e bent leg that remains where it was.

"That's a nice outfit." She tilts her head, the illumination from a light in the alley casting her face half in shadows and leaving only the white makeup side visible. "Aren't sais a defensive weapon? You go around expecting people to try to stab you?"

Elektra has posed:
There's a soft chuckle from Elektra who has yet to fully relax, but then again, she's not drawn a weapon.

"Sai? Defensive? My dear, not how I use them. Though your katana would do just as well." A pause of consideration, "I had a pair of exquisitely matched Wakizashi. I found the strings attached to be distasteful."

A light shrug, then a consideration for her 'companion' in the alleyway.

"I find it an interesting contrast. A song from a group that made their living peddling love and peace, dressed like you should be screaming Boomtown Rats from the rooftops."

Another of those soft chuckles escapes her. "You're not the only one with an appreciation for irony, I suppose. There are better places to relax, I feel I should inform. The rooftop, for example. Much less urine and rotting garbage smells. Or are you waiting for someone?"

Typhoid Mary has posed:
"I don't mind the setting. Brings back a lot of memories," Typhoid says with her own soft laugh. She turns her head back to the light, making her just seem like a costumed vigilante or something of the sort. Instead of a creeper. "I am waiting on someone. They should be along in about a half hour. I just like to be early. People who are late are just rude and disrespectful."

She considers the sais again then nods vaguely. "My weapons are my own. No ties. No limitations. No rules." She smirks. "Just the way I like it. Name's Typhoid, by the way."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra doesn't sit, but she relax fractionally, taking up a standing lean against the wall, body turned towards Mary still. "Oh, I gave them back," Elektra murmurs, more than slightly amused. "They weren't very pleased with me. I did respect the blades, though." An almost smile hovering on her lips, but hidden behind her scarf. It's lilt finds itself in her voice. "Never draw a blade you do not intend to use," she speaks softly. "Leave nothing they would not take. The blood you spill shall not be your own."

There's a laugh.

"I think they forgot. Such a pity. But that's always the danger with puppets, isn't it? That they might remember who they are."

A small nod towards Mary. "Always have rules. Just make certain they're your own, Mary. I'm Elektra. The sai are mine. I earned them long ago."

Typhoid Mary has posed:
That earns the humming of a few bars. It might be recognized to be 'I Got No Strings'. She stops after a couple of lines and speaks again. "Maybe I'll call you Pinnochio instead," she says with a soft laugh.

Elektra is smart enough to realize that Typhoid looks quite relaxed..but isn't. The way she has positioned her leg beneath her would allow her to leap to her feet instantly if Elektra were to make a move. She's not expecting it but she's cautious. There is nothing aggressive in Typhoid's movements though, nothing that indicates she might go on the attack. Just that respectful caution.

"People often don't respect that rule of the blades. If mine do get drawn..." She shrugs, mostly with her left shoulder and not fully. It says it all of course. Someone bleeds.

"You prowl around here? I thought this was the Devil's turf."

Elektra has posed:
"Pinnochio?" A small grunt of considered sound from the woman. "I wouldn't. But then again, I'm not you."

She, too, is not as relaxed as her form wuld suggest. Every line and angle of her settled just so for reaction. It was the same grace she brought to parties that bored her, or business meetings where men were fooilish enough to think her sex meant a lower IQ than a doorknob. She'd used that to her advantage, but her life had been spent cultivating readiness and caution.

"Pepole don't respect many things. I had teachers who expected better than that." There's a slight push off of the wall. Not a movement of agression, but one that suggests boredome. The need for movement. It might just be considering the parameters of their positioning against one another better - after all, Mary had said she was waiting for someone.

"I prowl. He and I have an agreement." Maybe not the agreement she's allowing Mary to believe, but it was an agreement.

Typhoid Mary has posed:
"Ah." That one syllable can mean so many things. It is left open to interpretation by Elektra. For her part, Typhoid remains in that relaxed/not really relaxed position as she continues to chat.

"He and I do not. Need to meet up with him sometime. See what he thinks of me." She laughs a little, seemingly good natured when it is really more a personal joke since she's quite sure he wouldn't like her one bit if he knew what she was.

After all, she wasn't one of the good guys.

"So you prowl, Elektra. On the side of the angels?"

Elektra has posed:
Again there's a soft chuckle of amusement. "I should warn, he has rather high expectations of the morality of others." He'd argue he didn't, but Elektra would beg to differ. Then again, most of the Defenders were of like mind with the man. She, herself, was one of, if not the only, outliers. "I'd say I could arrange a meeting, but it might be more fun if you did it on your own."

She gives a gentle shrug to suggest she can be flexible on this one.

She's silent a time before answering the question. Considering.

"Lucifer," she begins, "Was an angel. He still is if you follow most mythology. Fallen, but still an angel." There's another of those silences before she adds, "If you're asking, do I kill? I've been known to. If you're asking do I champion the side of good.. Trickier. I've blurred that line many times. Now, though? Perhaps I'm a lighter shade of pale than white."

"Yourself?"

Typhoid Mary has posed:
At that question, the woman on the dumpster moves. Typhoid swings her legs over the side and scoots forward, jumping out and away to land easily on the ground. She stretches once she lands there, a slow languid motion.

"Let's say I'm a bit more like Lucifer," she finally offers up with a smile that is a little too manic to be comfortable. I generally do what I do for money at least. Though not always the case. But I am certainly no hero. Not by a long shot."

She eyes Elektra a moment then tilts her head to the side. "Hopefully that won't be a problem. I've actually enjoyed our chat."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra watches the other woman scoot to the edge, and land on the ground.

"I suppose it should bother me. Then again, I'd be all kinds of hypocrit if it did."

The matter of being paid for one's services wasn't one she really could find entire fault with. She imagined there were still circumstances she'd take a contract herself. Fewer and further between than they once had been, but Elektra knew herself well enough to know that even her redemption couldn't eke that promise from her, that she wouldn't ever again.

And Elektra made it a policy never to make promises she couldn't keep.

"I wouldn't be so blase about the matter with Daredevil. If you want my advice. As for me, I've enjoyed our chat as well."

In truth, she'd enjoyed it very much. Elektra was the sort of person who didn't make friends easily - not true friends - and certainly there were few who she could be this blunt with about who and what she was without judgement.

"Lucificer's sin was pride, Mary. Do be careful."

Typhoid Mary has posed:
This time the laugh is amused and cheerful. "Oh, honey. That is the least of my sins."

She turns toward the mouth of the alley, starting to walk that direction before glancing over her shoulder. "Seeya 'round. Pinocchio."

Another giggles and she is heading for the sidewalk out by the street, starting to whistle "I Got No Strings" as she does. She has a meeting to make.

Elektra has posed:
"Ciao, Lucy. I hope we meet again." And with that, Elektra makes a swift and silent rise to the rooftops, and is once again gone.