1056/What was that

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What was that
Date of Scene: 08 April 2020
Location: Bristol Township
Synopsis: Catching up. Talking about saving kids and a new prospect of an alliance.
Cast of Characters: Vic Sage, Elektra Natchios




Vic Sage has posed:
    Knuckles crunch and crackle a lot like popcorn in the microwave. It's that short steady staccato rhythm where once one goes then the rest start to go. In this case, however, they're not urged on by energy through the ether, but instead by a rugged black leather shoe that's pressed down upon the hand of a man who goes by Mickey Rinaldo.
    Mickey's known for running numbers, making book, and at times skimming a bit off the top to dab a little in investing in some shipments of drugs now and again. Nothing big, but enough to keep his hand in, invest, and make a pretty penny usually. Only now he's going to have to dip into his funds to take care of those broken knuckles because gangsters... don't usually have good health care.
    The eerie voice asks, "I've been feeling out of sorts lately, Mickey." The faceless man kneels down, still one foot upon the shrieking man's hand there in the darkened tableau of the old textile mill. The few halogen lights that flicker with life are barely enough to illuminate that tall man in the coat and fedora.
    "Sometimes I can't tell where I am, what I'm doing. Or if I should stop. Do you ever feel that way?"
    "FUCK'S SAKE GET OFF MY HAND YOU CRAZY BASTARD!"

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Elektra has been on and off Gotham quite a bit as of late, meeting quite the interesting fauna that's present in this dark city. And today is no different, even if her target is an old acquaintance, not a new one. So she is knelt outside, in a nearby building to the mill, crouched and leaned forward just so, taking in the scene from a window that gives a privileged view of the show going on within.

Yet it's also not her MO to interrupt an interrogation while it's being ran. Unless she had an interest on it too of course, which in this case she seems just as fine to see brought to the end.

She is dressed in her usual harb of black and red, the mask on the lower part of her face she bringing one hand up to brush her hair out of the way. Damn wind never ceases to blow out here in Gotham apparently. Though through it all her dangerous eyes continue fixed on the scene, like a predator waiting to pounce.

Vic Sage has posed:
    A slender business card lightly taps upon Mickey's nose, it's a new thing, crisp and clean, with the image of a dancing woman upon its front along with some lettering that mentions a name soon given voice.
    "Tell me about The Mataharry Club. And tell me why three of your goons have been carrying around these cards." The curious voice coming from the man without a face seems so terribly harmless in some ways, a little spooky, were it not for the way Mickey's broken hand twists with the shift of pressure and weight.
    "Fuck if I know, goddammit! Maybe they all get a group discount there, fuck!" Mickey rasps painfully, trying to turn his body somehow so the pain stops and failing. He looks up, bald head sweaty and his mustache ragged from the dust and debris forced on his face from having been kneeling in dirt this whole time.
    "How much of a group discount? Do you have the receipts?" The voice asks idly, only to stand up abruptly when he turns his head and then states, "Oh look, you have another hand. And two feet as well."
    "Goddamit, Q. Ok, there's a poker game in the back, big stakes, needs lots of muscle. My guys... they might have an angle on it. Fuck!"
    The shoe slips off of that hand and there's a nod and then he murmurs to himself, "Mataharry's. Clever."
    And as quick as that the vigilante turns, walking toward the door in the textile mill, leaving the crumpled form of Mickey behind him. Mickey, who seems inclined to just lay there and cradle his broken hand.
    Though he'll be walking through the door, humming to himself a catchy beat that has him murmuring a few lyrics once he's out in the parking lot.
    "I think I did it again."
    "I made you believe we're more than just friends."
    "Oh baby."
    "It might seem like a hmmm. hmmm."
    He hums the rest.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
The looming presence that had been watching the interaction suddenly shifts, the shadow on the rooftop not there anymore. It slides and slithers down the side of the building and it doesn't take long to having found a perch by the parking lot shadows, just behind a couple of street lights, dwelling in the darkness provided by the contrast with the brighter lights in front.

Maybe it's the horrible lyrics, or just the deep silence that lingers in the parking lot, but what's true is that there is a tension in the air, a danger, as there always is when Elektra is about. A voice comes out from the dark. "Horrible lyrics." there is a familiarity there. Maybe it's the aggressive tone, or the way it seems disembodied, coming out of the darkness.

But considering it's Gotham..., it's often just another Wednesday.

Vic Sage has posed:
    The footsteps halt, the dark figure turns upon the edge of the light offered. For a time he tilts his head one way, then the other. Until there's a small sound that comes from him that is almost a smirking 'heh' though perhaps just him clearing his throat.
    "We do not understand why bad things sometimes prey upon our thoughts and offer their evil temptations, and yet we are still drawn to them in any case." The silhouette of the man in the coat stops, there on the edge of a halo of light, turning his head to focus on that area of darkness that would perhaps be Elektra. He has his hands in the pockets of his coat, his fedora at a jaunty angle, though it's one that he adjusts with two fingers and a small swipe along the brim.
    "This isn't your usual stomping grounds." He tells her, despite the fact that when they first met it wasn't his usual stomping grounds there either.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
There is no sound coming after that patch of darkness after those words, nothing to tell whether she is truly there or not, or if she ever was. Maybe it's just the wind playing tricks. But then the woman prowls forward, not exactly from that place where the voice had come from, instead out the darkness that was ahead of the path Vic was taking. She is just barely visible there in the dark though the dangerous eyes are unmistakable.

"You speak as if I have limits to what are my stomping grounds." The woman opening her arms to her sides in a casual gesture, then a glance towards the textile mill. "So this is where you spend your nights, mm?" not that she seems too impressed but at least there is a faint smile there that seems to reach her eyes. Or what's visible of them.

Vic Sage has posed:
    The masked face turns in her direction and is inherently unreadable. But before he speaks she'll see it turn slightly to the side, cocking in a curious manner as if pondering the words she offers, then offering a rejoinder of his own.
    "Some of them." He states, though, to be fair the last few weeks have been in this particular borough, following up several leads that have brought him here. And will likely bring him to that poker game he just learned of. But he speaks naught of that, nor of the fact that he had been avoiding a part of the city where he had one of his safe-houses exposed. Exposed when he had used it to tend to an errant cape child who had gotten injured on a train of all things.
    "When I don't have a society ball or a masquerade to go to." Considering his mask there might be some truth to the statement, though unlikely so.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
"Your mask seems somewhat bland for a masquerade." Elektra finishes stepping out of the dark but then again, does she ever step fully into the light? Not likely. Though at least her form is now visible, the dark and red curves of her harb, the weapons, the bracers with the rest of her tools of the trade. Just enough in the light that at least she isn't simply a shadow. "Yet perhaps that is the whole point, mmm?"

She folds her arms together then, watching the Question, thoughtful. "Though I hear you have been playing the good samaritan as of late." does she know about the kid being saved? Maybe, maybe not. Always hard to tell with Elektra. But she continues to regard him, mmm'ing in a way that could be either approval or disapproval.

Vic Sage has posed:
    Walking toward her with the slow click of heels upon the asphalt in that parking lot, he stops five feet from her, hands down in his pockets. He lowers his head slightly, brim of his fedora hiding some of his mask's surface features. She's seen his face before, perhaps can make out the subtle swell of his nose, the shift of lips underneath that curious surface.
    "Of course I have been. I am a good guy." Those last two words said there sternly, perhaps over enunciated as if to imply some air quotes around them. But then he tilts his head, "No matter how much Mickey Rinaldo might think otherwise."
    His head lifts a little, as if he might be looking down the bridge of his nose at her. That deadly woman with the twin blades who had won their last clash together.
    "Or do you mean something else? Something moooore, specific?"

Elektra Natchios has posed:
The woman's dark gaze remains squarely up on that mask, watching the blank features, a finger tapping on a rhythmic motion on the leather bracer where her arm is crossed over. She lets out a brief tsk. "Do you answer everything with a question?" but then a snort heard from beneath that mask, she shaking her head slowly to herself.

"Though I do. The train boy." Is what she replies. How does she know of that though? But she has her ways, or she wouldn't had survived for as long as she has, creating the legend about her name that she did. Her head cocks to the side and she adds, "Didn't take you for the saving people type. Specially those that deserve learning a lesson." harsh.

Vic Sage has posed:
    There's no answer at first as he processes the information she's given him. Considering what efforts she must have gone through, examining mentally what has passed for him that she might have considered worthy of note. But she'll see that mask twist a little, just around where his lips would be, a slight swelling to the side into what she might realize... is a smirk.
    "You've been checking up on me." Is his takeaway from this for now. His tone is light, still a little eerie, but now tinged with amusement.
    And then he starts to walk, hands still in his pockets, and his easy gait slow, perhaps expecting for her to walk with him across that parking lot away from the light. Letting the night have its claim on them once again as he moves.
    "I didn't know you cared." And suddenly the conversation is no longer about him, nor the caped boy he saved, but instead about Elektra herself.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
"Cared?" As if that word was foreign to her. And to be fair, Elektra is rather fluent in a great many languages. But her brows arch just a touch, not hiding her own amusement. "How typical of egocentric men to believe all revolves around them, mmm?" though she moves as well, even if not exactly next to him, at a bit of a distance, keeping to the darkness.

"And still no answer to my question. What brought you to save the boy?" She again asks. No pockets on that outfit of hers so she walks with her thumbs resting loosely on her sash, glancing at the Question from time to time.

Though then she admits that "Yes, I did check up on you. I believe we can understand each other so I have been considering whether you should be an ally or not."

Vic Sage has posed:
    "I have yet to be disproven of that assumption," Question tells her, though his tone might seem to indicate he is not entirely serious. Then again with that voice... it might be hard to tell. But then she brings the discussion back around to the youth that he had rescued from the top of the train. The fallen mutant child and his aborted crime-fighting on the night of his prom.
    He turns to look at her, that lithe silhouette in the shadows as she walks near him, but not with him, a pointed difference. "He had a concussion, left unattended he would have likely had a stroke." Those words given he then looks towards her, that blank face offering so little. "He was a fool, but he didn't deserve death for his failing."
    A pause as his footsteps falter, "Perhaps I'll live to regret my actions, but I'm willing to take that chance."
    For a time he walks on, only then being taken subtly by surprise to her admitting the possibility of being allies. "It would depend on what we would be allying for."

Elektra Natchios has posed:
"Of being egocentric or about me caring?" Is Elektra's retort, continuing on her walk down the parking lot, her steps unheard in the dark, almost as if there was some kind of ethereal quality to her, making her weightless. She glances over, listening to the explanation about the crime-fighting child. "Being aware there are consequences to our actions is an important learning step." she tells the Question.

"What do you think he learned with you saving him? That there is always someone there to offer a hand no matter how fool one is?" She muses on that for a time but then lifts her shoulders. She doesn't particularly care, remember?

"I may have business to attend to soon here in Gotham. Someone that actually knows the ins and outs of what goes on in this city could be of help." she murmurs. "And you seem to know enough of this city. Even if your judgement may not be the best." again, harsh!

Vic Sage has posed:
    A small chuff of breath is heard, perhaps what might pass for a light laugh as he walks along slowly with her. She really does leave little evidence of her passing and presence, save for the times when there is blood left and corpses sprawled after she takes her toll about those who earn her ire. But for Sage she could be a manifestation of some figment in his mind for all the proof he has of her presence in some ways.
    "He's learned of the consequences. His time in my care wasn't pleasant." Nor exactly that helpful, but it might have saved his life.
    "Business in Gotham?" That has him quiet for a time, reflective on the aspects he knows of her, knows what might draw her attention. He tells her, "I could help. Depending on your goals. If you're looking to end someone we might have a disagreement. And there's always the Bat."

Elektra Natchios has posed:
"Your notion of being pleasant is most likely different from mine." And one shouldn't really ask what Elektra's note of being unpleasant is. But yes, it normally involves bodies of some sort, and blood. Lots of blood. Those Sais aren't only for display afterall. Even if they do have the intimidating factor. She continues on her walk (though is she is really walking?), just in the edge of darkness, close but not close enough to the Question, just a step away from disappearing fully and into the dark.

"So are you telling me I won't be seeing him up on the news again doing some silliness all over again?" Doesn't seem like she believes it at all, but then she finds herself not exactly caring too much. At least about the child. "I suppose I was simply curious about your thought process in this." but the tone seems to imply he will be regretting it in his lifetime still.

The mention of the Bat makes her look over, directly, then forward again. "I am aware of the Bat." the same that he seems to be aware of her. "And I am not here to kill anyone that doesn't deserve it." though who doesn't deserve it in Elektra's view?! "Yet, for this job there may be others involved too. Our aim is to stop something, not to kill."

Vic Sage has posed:
    "You may," Question tells her as he stops on the edge of the parking lot, now at one of the many cross streets through the city, this one lined with old middle of the road cars and no foot traffic at this time of night. He stands on the edge of the nearby streetlight's halo of illumination, pausing there so as to not force her to maintain the conversation or keep her secrecy. Thoughtful masked man that he is.
    "Though perhaps he will be more cautious, and slightly less of an idiot."
    That said he listens to her describe the mission parameters and then he nods. "You know how to get in touch with me when you need me." And as he says that he removes a hand from his pocket, an electronic keyring's button depressed and with it the /roar/ of a heavy engine is heard as it ingites into life. The visage of the car is a black Crown Victoria from decades earlier, a piece of garbage at a glance, though with the lights, the engine, and the interior visible it seems like it's more a disguised muscle car than anything else.
    "That all you needed me for?"

Elektra Natchios has posed:
The assassin comes to a stop near the edge of the light, remaining mostly out of sight and out of mind but for the deadly voice that continues to echo out in the night, "There is a reason as for why getting involved the least possible is a good thing. No regrets in the future." she muses, eyes then drawn to the muscle car.

A slight nod of her head, seems like Gothamites do like their toys. It does make her wonder she should get something of the sort. Maybe a motobike. But she doesn't lose too much time in those thoughts. Instead she focuses on that last question. And perhaps taking a page out of Question's book she answers with a question.

"What more do you think I could need you for?" Some amusement visible there on her tone.

Vic Sage has posed:
    The man in the fedora looks to her, standing there bathed in the stream of light from the headlamps of that rumbling car, his hands deep in the pockets of the trenchcoat. His head tilts slightly to the side as for a time the engine hums behind him.
    Then he lifts his chin and gestures with a slight nod toward the passenger side of the vehicle. "Get in the car and find out."
    And with that he turns away, walking through the brilliance of the headlights and over to the driver's side door. It's pulled open, and then he slips inside behind the steering wheel. A moment passes, then the engine revs with a /roar/, though he waits. To see what she'll decide.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
The challenge makes her laugh, Elektra stepping out of the dark for a few brief moments, her eyes dancing with her amusement, watching, perhaps deciding but then she tells him, "So egocentric. But for now it shall suffice." she tells him.

A gesture with one hand as if in farewell. "I will be in touch, Question."

And then she seems to fade into the darkness, in that manner that only so much training with the Hand and whoever else she trained with can bring her.

Though what's true is that only that lingering voice stays, echoing a, "See you soon.." before it fades into darkness, along with the deadly feeling of her presence.