It was a standard sort of contract. Hiring her because of the access, the reputation - the job made all the more easy by her own ability to slip in and out of society from the money and names that were her father’s gift. Worlds she didn’t belong in, not entirely, not after digging into mountains until her fingers bled in search of a fantasy, not after burying her fist in a man’s chest and feeling a heart beat between her fingers, not after seeing her own, open grave. Not one she belonged to before, though - too many nights alone, too many times wanting so badly to be worthy of some attention, of being the center of the room, and realizing she fell short.
She was better at it, now. Something about her drawing the eye, something in herself she had mastered. Mysterious, some called her. Elusive. Bewitching, once, by a man who claimed she enchanted him from the moment she spoke. All foolishness - once she had no need for attention, no want to be part of the world, of course it was interested in her. That was the secret of it all, Elektra had learned. Her father’s peers, the social elite, only wanted what they didn’t already possess. When she finally became her own, took the weapon her self had been forged into and began wielding it as she wished, when she no longer craved anyone else’s approval, suddenly she was appealing.
It would have been more amusing if she could actually bring herself to care much about it at all, now. For now, it suited her purposes to slip in and out of the social circles - use the reputation of being the elusive last Natchios (known to them, at least) as a cover for studying. For vetting. Targets were offered constantly, always available for someone like her to pick and choose who she would kill. She had grown more careful in her choices, researching, finding out all the little details. Who would miss them, when her sais sunk in. Who would benefit, when they were buried.
This one, few would mourn. And many more would live with his death.
Which was more than good enough reason for someone like her. Elektra had no uniform, not for missions like this, beyond the red - the color, her favorite and preference. Bright red, this time, drawing attention to herself with high heels and a slit that went just a little too high. Why bother blending in when she could use all the attention? Draw him in to her, let him come close enough to slip her sai in between his ribs. She had little in way of backup plans - a bracelet that could be unwound from her wrist and act as a garrote if she was in a tight corner, but really? What need had she of a weapon when she was one herself? All she needed now was her hands, the power granted to her in resurrection making her ever more the weapon. Funny, she would have thought there was nothing left for them to whittle away, nothing further in her that could be stripped and forged into a sharper edge. It was not the first time she was wrong.
Ill fitting piece as she was here, though, there was another. Someone off-putting, the reverse of herself in slipping into the crowd. Blending in as though she belonged there, as though she’d been a piece meant to just fit perfectly in. Subtle in a way that Elektra was choosing not to be - and all the more unique for it. It took her time to identify who felt so off, but it hit soon enough. The eyes gave her away, calculating beyond the petty machinations of the elite, but in the way of a warrior. A spy. And, if her guess was not wrong - if her information, the pictures, the bits and pieces of data and news were accurate - calculating like a spider.
Finally, something interesting. “I admit - I am almost jealous. If you were here for me, this night would have been positively exciting. But something tells me you have someone else in mind.” Elektra said it casually, champagne in hand as she tilted her head with interest, watching carefully.
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