1965-01-18 - Bargains between Demons
Summary: Elektra subcontracts a hit. Business is good!
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
elektra zhenya 

The bar doesn't smell like any other dive bar. The fact that it was a cop bar made sure that it held a certain cleanliness and a certain clientele that it serves. Though there is the smell of Lucky Strikes and random cigars that those bring into the facility, the lighting was well placed and it seemed low key to the point where one of her stature, previous stature wouldn't mind having a burger. But still, in front of Zhenya and whatever alias she had chosen, there was a level of comfort there.

Yes, the air about her was wrong, but Elektra related to that wrongness in more ways than one. She could also turn that wrongness within herself around and make it into a show of who could -be- more normal.

Elektra would lose. Hands down.

Still, it was a wonder the Hand wanted to use this young woman as a distraction. She was gorgeous, carried a certain way about her that was standoffish and alluring. Rumored of her skills, she was unmatched in most everything that was done and had a very high success rate. And, there was the discretion.

"Espionage.." She murmurs quietly, smiling once the tender brought a whisky sour, tinged with apple, which was soon taken and sipped rather quickly. And minute. "..though, a bit of murder would not hurt." With ears like Zhenya's..

Call her Tabby, for that's her name. Tabby with the reputation in certain parts of the city for thievery and connections that no one is going to worry about here. Nice girl with short brown hair and an oversized coat, one that does nothing to disguise her high boots or skirt underneath. Winter calls for dressing warmly, after all.

Discretion is her watch word, and that air of subtle danger — a bad girl under the refined, pretty appearance — just enough to attract attention, bring the eye sliding her way. Beauty in dark, beauty in light. Take your pick, targets, because she knows how to play to the exotic girl next door appeal along with all the rest. It's what they trained her for, what she does to bring in targets.

Death has a funny set of handmaiden.

She smiles ever so slightly, as though ordering a scotch on the rocks, bold choice for an ingenue like herself. Ice rattles around in the tumbler. She examines the contents curiously, but not enough to suggest that she has no idea what she does. Oh, that drink goes down smooth enough when she wants to. "Who has been making trouble today?"

Anyone worth their salt would know what Elektra was doing in that moment. Even though an irish based tune was playing within the background, Elektra kept up the cadence, started the cadence with a quick series of tapping that spelled the words in an answer for Tabby.

There were names. Names of those that night in attendance that could pose further problems; names that the Black Hand was shipped to and delivered with the promise of death to come. Sure, it was a scare tactic, but the bounty was going to be collected no matter what, once the Hand ruled New York. It was only the beginning.

"You'll receive payment in two days time. Partial. We are confident in your abilities and the style in which distraction is carried out could.. quite possibly warrant a bonus for entertainments sake.

Notice how Daredevil's name was not in that list…

The look Tabby gives to Elektra after the tapping finishes is practically bland. Her glass held in her hand, she acts alert to the conversation but nothing so much that would stand out as wrong or awry. No need to attract wandering eyes.

A laugh, leaning in a little, she murmurs, "Which is your highest priority level? I accept the terms of partial payment." A smile is thin, her eyes bright with ruthless laughter. "Account credentials to be provided. That or you can arrange the bank. European or American only. Nothing offshore. Such a nuisance, trying to find a yacht in the winter." Love that bikini opportunity, right?

"Security measures for any of these?"

"The one with the gun. Big man. Assassin." Deathstroke. And it was just because, he seemed to be the biggest nuisance of all. And that was because he was paid to disrupt the Hand. "Any information that leaks from his lips is ten percent extra per your original base fee." The terms were met of course, her head nodding faintly as she gives a shake of her head to look up.

"Yachts? Easy. I shall give you the keys to mine for now. There is a lovely Cheval Blanc hidden within the panels. Bonus points if you find out where.." Was.. was that a wink? Elektra wasn't outright flirting with the woman, but others may think it so. Or may just look the other way and assume the women were speaking of sins. "Security measures. For him? No. Expect levels of cockiness. Its an annoyance, really."

Deathstroke with a gun. Assassin. She smiles ever so slightly, nodding to the facts laid out. Tabby is hardly concerning for the average bystander watching the crowd. She's pretty and her coat is lovely; nothing more to speak of, otherwise. "Make him sing. Employers, goals, purpose?" The questions are almost bland, like a girl asking about what to wear to a date. Of course, it is a date, just one that probably ends with inherent violence.

Cheval Blanc, she'll take. But the Widow in disguise smiles on innocently, rattling the ice in her glass. "Of course. He is a man. They assume they are the finest of the sorts, rather than finding an equal in anyone they meet." It's all to her advantage, but they mutually might face that. Her smile is cool as anything.

"Yes." Followed by the nod of her head. Elektra finishes off her drink with expertise, her neck and lips tensing to bare her teeth briefly. "Take note of what he wears. It breaks weapons." A little tip, but she was sure the woman would find ways around it. "But do what you prefer, others first, him last. Quite possibly he will not move unless he is paid. Power of money, I suppose. But even still, for the slight of it all." She twists her lips to sniff, then prepares herself for departure. "You know where to leave the information. Yes?" Cause money talks.

"Breaks weapons? I doubt he wants to be charmed by a woman. More than likely likes other means. Alcohol, violence, they all have it." A shrug cultivates an easy gesture, and Zhenya rests her elbow on the table. The drink dangles lazily in place, captured by slim fingers. "Money. How tawdry. Not to have a reason and a cause." The thief would say that, of course. She's not a mercenary. Elektra has a cause. They might be twins or not.

Her hip cocked, she rests at an angle on the stool, halfway to twisting. "I know. There is no crushing timeline on when we set our next date? I can make it work faster, of course, but priorities."

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