#! queue

distance. the hardest obstacle any relationship has to face (assuming said relationship has the misfortune of being challenged such way). with her father’s duties being predominantly located in the united states, elektra barely has the time to visit harry who moved to england not long ago. harry osborn: her kindred spirit. the only one who understands how lonely it gets to live in a world where money and power bring nothing but shallow relationships.

she was foolish to think the distance wouldn’t be so taxing.

"oh, harold,” she always calls him that to bother him. “you’ve only spent a few months overseas, but you’ve grown so much... would you stop growing? i like being taller than you.”

continued from here.

   → PETER’S EYES NARROW SLIGHTLY IN QUESTION AT HER STATEMENT; more an order than a question, and he supposes he doesn’t really have a CHOICE in the matter; he has to go shopping. He’s probably the WORST person for that job- after all, all he usually wears is sweatpants or SKINNY JEANS; no in-between, & he can’t see that CHANGING any time soon. So as she pulls up, he walks over to the passenger window, leaning in with a goofy grin plastered across his face. He’s questioning her motives.

         – “ I THINK YOU SHOULD RE-ASSESS MY SHOPPING ABILITIES, E. ” –

   He opens the door ANYWAY; he’d rather be held hostage by his friend in a shopping mall than not have friends at all, anyways- & he climbs into the car. He’s barely got a THING on him; he has his wallet & phone in his pocket, a HUGE camera hanging from his neck, but notmuch else. He’s probably dressed WAYYYY too casually for Elektra’s tastes, too; but hey, that’s her fault for sneaking up on him !

         – “ BUT I’LL TOTALLY WATCH YOU TRY ON CLOTHES FOR FOUR HOURS, IF          THAT MEANS YOU BUY ME SOME STARBUCKS. ” –

the car she has chosen is –– needless to say –– a statement in of itself. a red maserati that is bound to get heads to turn. what can she say? she still loves the extravagant life that comes with her money. plus, there’s nothing wrong with treating oneself for a day, and in that moment, she feels a little bit more generous than usual.

“it’s your lucky day, peter.” she takes off her sunglasses and places it on her dashboard. “the shopping is not for me –– it’s for you.” eyeing his clothes up and down, her gaze should be more than enough indication that she disapproves of the way he’s dressing. sure, it can be charming, but being a man in his thirties, he ought to put in more effort to dress up, especially if he’s ever going to get a job better than being a photographer.

she knows where this conversation is going –– it’s leading towards a lecture about how easy it is to stop whatever it is she’s doing. the truth is, it’s difficult. this is not something she can simply walk away from. frankly, she doesn’t even want to leave. this is the path she has chosen and she’s more than ready to face the consequences because she has been preparing for this her whole life. this is the only thing she knows she is good for.

“is this the part where you convince me the same thing?” she asks, entertaining the possibility that, no, the girl is not trying to reprimand her.

continued from here.

there’s a SCOFF as he slowly lowers his weaponry. he still keeps his iron grip onto the piece, but he eyes the other up and down. so. she’s why there’s more bodies here, huh? and upon hearing the … somewhat friendly banter, there’s an assumption she’s not coming for him next. ❛ ever heard of makin’ your dreams come true? ❜ eyes narrow. ❛ well, here i am. ❜

16 –– getting them something they need before they ask for it.

there are many rules on how the two operate.

1. they must never use their real names. ‘elektra’ or ‘james’ are only reserved when they are in the privacy of their rundown motel rooms.2. assassinations must be quick and clean. leave no trace at the scene of the crime.3. no time for small talks. they’re on a mission, not to make friends.4. they are to never spend more than two days at the same place. hydra or the hand will be able to locate them and kill them.

the fourth one should be the hardest rule to keep up with. they have to move between cities quickly, living out of a small backpack that contains nothing but their bare essentials. however, it’s one of the easiest rules for both to abide to because they are already used to this lifestyle. as if their bodies are operating on their own twisted clocks, they’ll get up earlier on their second days to prepare themselves to move, never to look back at the city or what they have done there.

unfortunately, there is no time for them to even be able to sit down and think or reflect on their time there. this is why both of them lack remorse. they don’t even have the time to mourn.

( she’s pretty sure that if she ever gets killed in the job, james would then just move on as if nothing happens–– and actually, vice versa. )

“wake up, james,” she says, as she shakes his body and tosses him a new sweater. “we have to move soon. get dressed and let’s go. your food is on the table.”

the whispers now say that he’s somewhere in a rundown motel in new jersey about to make his way out of the country. but elektra is determined to get to him before he leaves. he killed her father, effectively sending her life on a loose spiral towards a rabbit hole of insanity. she can’t sit idly by as the murderer roam free. he deserves to experience the pain he has inflicted upon her. in fact, she wants him to feel her pain and more. it’s funny –– she told herself that she’s never going to be consumed by her emotions, let alone something as volatile as anger. however, this is an exception, she thinks, because this is a personal score she has to settle.

that’s why, she’s now in his motel, checked into a room next to his  ( the receptionist was easy to convince, nothing money couldn’t buy ). she’s not in her usual attire, she’s in something simpler, subdued. it’s a disguise. she has tucked her keys behind a pot of plant in front of his room.

she sees him walking in from the distance, all covered with his hoodie and cap. “excuse me,” she calls out sans her accent which is replaced by a generic american accent. “i seem to have lost my keys, can you help me?”

“ms. jones. i’m aware we have our fair share of differences––” no time for witty quips. elektra knows what kind of waters she’s treading; she ought to be careful if she wants to get the private eye to understand the urgency of the situation. the mystery of her brother’s whereabouts has been gnawing her mind. it’s as if he’s gone just like a ghost. no trace. nothing. (does he not want to be found?) “––but you’re one of the most resourceful people i know. that’s why i’d like to hire you.”