Elektra: Beaten by Typhoid (Part 1)

When the mansion’s big doors opened and a lone, sai-wielding figure stepped out into the night air, Abby Miller’s heart soared with relief and joy.

“Elektra!” the jubilant teenager charged across the yard towards her mentor, sneakers thumping into the wall manicured grass.

Elektra Natchios allowed herself a small smile as she saw her young friend approaching and carefully closed the doors behind her. There was no reason for Abby to see the leavings of the battle inside. She wanted the girl to remain innocent as long as possible.

Judging by their surroundings, no one would have guessed that a climactic battle of ninjas had just occurred on the premises. The palatial mansion wasn’t damaged in the slightest, the yard clean and uncluttered, even the hedge maze pristine. The nature of ninjas from the Hand clan was to turn to vapor upon death, so one had to look closely to notice the piles of black clothes, the occasional abandoned weapon. Even then, it would appear more like a small reenactment group had left their things lying about than a life or death struggle… or at least a struggle for Abby’s life.

Abby met Elektra at the steps to the mansion then immediately skidded to a stop, looking embarrassed. Her first instinct had been for a hug but realizing she didn’t know how the sultry assassin would react to such a show of affection, she stopped short and clasped her hands in front of her, smiling nervously.

“S-sorry,” she flushed, looking at her sneakers, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Elektra smiled, rare warmth on her stern, beautiful face. She tucked one sai into the sash on her hip and placed her free hand on Abby’s shoulder. It was the closest thing to a gesture of affection that she’d given anyone in a long time.

“The Silver Daimyo won’t cause you anymore problems,” she told the girl, “You’re free now. It’s over.”

Abby beamed up at her idol, the expression lighting up her young face. She reminded Elektra so much of herself at that age, pretty, dark haired, athletic, but more innocent than she’d ever been. The red garbed ninja doubted she’d ever smiled with such unrestrained joy.

“Thank you,” the girl raised her eyebrows, “Are you… free too?”

Elektra tilted her head at that, surprised at the girl’s insight. The Silver Daimyo had sought Abby as the Treasure, a girl reincarnated into every generation with the skill to become the greatest martial artist in the world. She had reluctantly come to the young girl’s aid, before she had discovered the role the villain had had in her own life: the death of her mother.

As Elektra considered it, she realized she felt a bit lighter now that he was gone. Perhaps in saving Abby, she’d saved part of herself.

“I…” she her smile slowly broadened, “Yes… I think I am.”

Abby laughed and rolled her eyes, “Good! Now let’s get the hell out of here!”

Elektra pursed her lips at the tart remark, which only made Abby laugh again. The teenager turned to lead them both away, young hips swaying sassily and shifting the seat of her jeans.

“Come on!” Abby grinned over her shoulder.

The thought of tripping the little smart aleck crossed Elektra’s mind, but she decided she’d had enough rough housing for one day. Twirling her remaining sai, she strode after Abby to catch up. She caught the signature weapon with the blade under her wrist, in hand but hidden, ready. She was no longer facing as many demons, but that didn’t mean she was lowering her guard.

Woman and girl marched away from the battlefield, not looking back.

Side by side, the pair looked like two of a kind but at different stages of life. Both had long brown hair like polished mahogany, with the same bangs (Abby having done hers to mimic Elektra), and the same fair skin. Elektra was taller and bigger, but proportionately her dimensions were similar to her young friend’s, slim and athletic, hips rounding, shoulders slim. The teenager wore a denim jacket and blue jeans in contrast to her mentor’s revealing outfit of vivid, shining crimson, but they were both graceful, clearly able to handle themselves.

However, even if they’d been the same age and size, one would have been able to tell them apart by their gaits alone. Abby swaggered with her hips as the older woman did, but with a bounce in her step, reveling in herself and the world around her. She held her head high, proud and optimistic, daring anything to come at her with the confidence of youth.

Beside her, Elektra glided with the effortless sensuousness and discipline of a runway model. Each step she took was calculated, not a single motion wasted, entirely in control of herself, the sway of her hips smooth and precise. She was curving tone, stream-lined and hard, but round in places that drew men’s eyes. A red silk bustier stopped at mid stomach, pressing firm breasts together and revealing the top of her hips above her satin leggings. But though she was lovely to look upon, there was in inherent danger about her, a relaxed readiness, eyes ever alert. She was a gossamer, deadly pantheress next to Abby’s feisty kitten.

Even now, with the danger past, Elektra’s icy gaze took in everything, scanning bushes and trees, taking note of possible places of ambush and other clues only her well-trained eyes would see. Through meditation, she had even learned to see glimpses of the immediate future, possible outcomes of the next few seconds. The assassin was not only alert on a physical level, but on another plane above an average person, preternaturally difficult to surprise.

She abruptly stopped, her brow lowering.

Abby continued on for a few more paces before she realized the older woman wasn’t with her. She stopped and turned, frowning in consternation.

“Hey, what’s… Elektra?”

Elektra stared into the distance, a vision of the future unfolding before her. She and Abby were striding across the lawn, when a black wind rushed out of the hedge maze to their side, engulfing them. The wind was death itself, making the bushes’ leaves curl and shrivel, the limbs turn brittle and then crumble away.

Elektra and Abby themselves coughed violently, the grass beneath their feet blackening and dying. The pair tried to fight whatever poison assaulted them, but it was a losing battle. Abby fell first, clasping her throat and dropping to her knees, while Elektra continued to stumble drunkenly. As her young friend surrendered to the wind and collapsed onto the dead grass, Elektra made it a few more steps before she simply flopped onto her face, bouncing limply. Both breathed raggedly but were otherwise still, helpless, while a shadow advanced towards them with purring laughter.

“Too easy…” a voice hissed.

The vision ended.

Elektra clenched her jaw, lips becoming a firm line. She didn’t need to see who the shadow was in her vision to recognize the method of attack and that mocking laugh. She had thought the danger was over, but in all the chaos she’d forgotten about one key player, one she realized was still at large.

“Elektra?” Abby asked again.

The silky assassin’s gaze snapped towards her young ward, her expression stony.

“Stay here.”

Her voice brooked no argument. The normally defiant Abby was almost transfixed by the intensity of her gaze.

“Oh…” the teenager blinked, “Okay…?”

Drawing her other sai from the sash at her hips, Elektra twirled both weapons to a ready position and walked casually towards the bushes. Hurrying would only alert their attacker to the fact that her ambush had been discovered, if she hadn’t figured it out already. She doubted she’d be able to take this foe by surprise, but at the very least Abby would be out of danger and she’d be ready for an attack.

Abby, for her part, scuffed her sneaker in the dirt and bit her lip, feeling a bit silly at being made to wait, but having learned to trust the assassin enough to do what she was told. If she knew anything, it was that Elektra could handle anything. So, she only watched, wondering silently what her mentor had seen.

Blue eyes narrowed, pretty face hard, Elektra warily approached the side of the hedge maze where she’d been attacked in her vision. The pruned bushes were thick, the darkness making them impossible to see through, so she relied on her ears, her own soft-toed boots not even whispering in the grass. The instant she heard a sound, a shift of weight, a rustle of leaves, she was prepared to hurl her sharpened sai through the hedge and impale the villainess on the other side.

From the other side of the bush, there was a quick intake of breath.

Elektra’s hand shot out, flinging her weapon without a wind up. Three silver prongs punched through the hedge wall and shot straight towards the source of the sound, but before they could reach the figure on the other side blew between her pursed lips. There was a low whistle, like a strong gust of wind, and a dark zephyr struck Elektra before she could dodge out of the way.

Fortunately, at almost the same moment the crimson-garbed assassin felt the death wind rush over her, a gasp of surprise rang out from the other side of the hedge and the wind died.

Instinctively, Elektra threw herself to the side, out of the line of fire, but just that brief touch from the gust of black poison made her eyes burn, her throat clench.

“Elektra?!” Abby blinked, not sure what she was seeing.

The crimson clad martial artist turned to call out to her young devotee, only for her voice to be choked by the remnants of the poison.

“Ruh… r-r—” she managed to rasp, before a fit of coughing overpowered her.

Curling, brown death spread the hedge wall, a circular spot widening from where the black wind had rushed through. Foliage shriveled, falling then crumbling to ash even before it reached the ground, twigs crackling as they dried out and broke. In seconds, a doorway-sized section of the hedge wall was just a blackened skeleton.

A figure pushed her way through the dilapidated hole in the bush, the leaves and branches so brittle they fell away without even scratching her creamy skin. Her hips slithered more than swayed, her clothing and hair dark as pitch.

Elektra managed to control her couching and brought her sai to bear, facing her opponent.

“A-Abby,” Elektra snapped, “Run.”

Abby took a wary step back, looking back and forward between her mentor and their attacker.

The woman facing Elektra was so sickly pale, it made her ruby lips look like blood welling up as she smirked. She was slim, athletic, features perfect and artificial as a porcelain doll’s, with eyes that were so dark Abby couldn’t tell where her pupils began. Dressed in a black, revealing outfit, she was effortlessly graceful but her movements were somehow alien, like she was merely a creature inhabiting the body of a beautiful woman.

Other than her exotic turquoise eyeshadow, the only other color on her face came from a cut on her cheek, evidence of Elektra’s sai. The weapon itself was held in her hand, broken and rusted. Having met the woman’s poison head on, it looked like an ancient artifact ruined by time.

The woman held the rotten instrument from a crooked finger.

“You dropped this…” she crooned, narrowing her eyes.

Abby’s eyes widened. One of the high-level ninjas working for the Silver Daimyo, this woman had attacked them in the forest and almost destroyed them. She had given Abby the creeps at the time and now it wasn’t any better. She remembered the late Daimyo had called her Typhoid.

Elektra didn’t offer any introduction. In a flash of red silk and satin ribbon, she closed the distance between them and stabbed her gleaming sai at the strange woman’s throat.

Meeting her speed for speed, Typhoid twirled her stolen weapon and deflected the strike, then ducked away from the follow up with a laugh. She returned the stroke with a slash of her long nails, but Elektra was fluid, constant motion, fading away just enough to avoid the attack before countering.

As the two master assassins dueled, Abby watched with a young body that was rigid with indecision. Her knees bent, legs coiled, she was on the verge of running, but was torn between whether to flee or charge to the aid of her mentor. A long string of golden beads, her chi powered weapon capable of cracking like a whip or slashing like a sword, was gripped tight in her fist, her heart thundering.

The two women moved so fast and with such grace that feints, attacks, and defense all blended into one long dance.

Elektra was cold precision, her pretty face betraying no emotion other than intense concentration. Her hard, toned body whirling then lashing out, snapping from one position to the next, every blow cruel and merciless. Her dark hair whirled around her shoulders as she spun and slashed, revealing her slender neck, the muscular grooves in her trim figure.

On the other hand, Typhoid flowed in such a smooth manner it was deceptively slow, yet she always found an angle to attack, which she did with blistering speed. A coy, amused grin turned up her blood-red lips, but her eyes were wide and almost manic, alight with something sharper than passion. She even ran her tongue over her lips as Elektra managed to slice her across the thigh, the wound only making her more excited.

“Mmm, you got me again!” she hissed, “I can’t remember the last time that happened…”

Elektra’s only response was to try to open the women’s throat, from which the dark kunoichi ducked away with another laugh.

Abby started forward, then skidded to a stop, wincing and chewing on her bottom lip. She knew Elektra could handle this woman, but what if she got hurt in the process? But then again, trying to help might only get in her mentor’s way, and she had been told to run. But how could she just run while someone tried to hurt Elektra?

The dueling assassins traded blows, Elektra grazing Typhoid’s shoulder while Typhoid managed to cut Elektra across the hip, then both darted back, distancing themselves. The pair circled each other, feeling for openings, trying to find a superior position.

“Abby!” Elektra called without taking her eyes off her opponent, “I said run!”

The teenage martial artist flinched, her mouth dropping open in surprise. She almost called out to ask how the crimson assassin had known she was still there but stopped herself. This was Elektra; she always knew what was going on around her.

“B-but,” Abby called back, “I-I can—”

“Run!” the older woman snapped, “I’ll find you later!”

“Mm hmm…” Typhoid purred, “Or I will…”

She slashed at Elektra with the rusted sai and the pair traded a few blows and counter blows. Steel flashed, bodies twisted and whirled, then the two drew back, jockeying for openings once more.

Swallowing, Abby turned and ran, but not far. She didn’t want to distract Elektra, but she wasn’t going to just scamper away like a scared little girl either. Sprinting around the edge of the hedge maze, she ducked behind a wall of pruned foliage and crouched, staying low. Weapon still in hand, she slowly peered around the edge to keep her eye on the duel. This way she could help if Elektra needed her AND she could watch her mentor kick this lady’s bizarro butt. There was no doubt in her mind who would win, but maybe she could make Elektra respect her a bit more if she showed she could be useful in a tight spot.

Elektra slashed high, hoping to take advantage of Typhoid’s defense by sweeping her feet out from under her, but the villainess cartwheeled back. This strange woman was good. Elektra was better and she calmly calculated that she would most likely win this engagement, but not unscathed. It would be preferable if she could simply convince the assassin to leave.

“The Silver Daimyo is dead,” Elektra said in Japanese, “I killed him.”

Typhoid sighed, “Really? Such a shame.”

She feigned lowering her weapon for a moment, then lashed out, but Elektra saw it coming. She struck the sai aside and tried to attack the woman’s exposed side, but Typhoid moved away. The circling continued.

“Your contract on us died with him,” Elektra narrowed her eyes, “There’s no money in this. If you continue to attack me, you’ll die over nothing.”

At that, Typhoid took a small step back and tossed her head, cackling. Standing upright, making no move to attack but out of Elektra’s range, she cocked her hip, letting the rusted sai hang loose at her side. After her laugh, she flipped some dark hair out of her face and regarded her stern opponent with a playful smirk.

“Look at me, Elektra,” she put a hand on her rounded hip, “Do I look like someone that’s in it for the money?”

Keeping her distance, Elektra kept her sai at the ready, coiled and ready to spring.

“Why, then?” she frowned.

Typhoid’s lips quirked higher, eyes narrowing, like she had a secret she just realized her opponent didn’t know.

“You tell me, sweetie,” her voice came softer, “Look at me. See for yourself.”

Elektra looked up into the other woman’s dark eyes, her gaze cool and assessing. They were two balls of obsidian surrounded by white, almost inhuman, twinkling with mirth. In them she saw hunger, cruelty, sadism, madness. And something else. Something elusive that demanded her attention, flitting just at the edge of her awareness.

“Do you see it yet?” Typhoid hissed, “Look deep. It’s something you know well. And it knows you…”

Elektra looked deeper into the abyss that was the villainess’s eyes. There WAS something inside them. Something that felt familiar, like from long ago that she’d forgotten. She couldn’t put a word to it, but it was fascinating, in both its concept and elusiveness. It always slipped away before she could pinpoint it, leading her deeper, but the deeper she got the warmer she felt. Safe, content.

Without realizing it, the deadly woman’s expression softened, her posture relaxing.

“Deeper…” the villainess murmured, “Deeper… look deeper into my eyes…”

Staring intently, Elektra’s lips parted as her jaw relaxed, her face smoothing out, her eyes even widening in innocent curiosity. The arm holding the sai wavered, then began to sink as she forgot about it, her shoulders drooping. Her legs wobbled and she slowly stood upright to make it easier on them, moving slowly, dream-like.

From her hiding place, Abby frowned. What was Elektra doing?

“That’s it…” Typhoid took a small step closer, “Let it embrace you, Elektra. So dark… so exciting… so soft…”

The villainess’s voice washed over her and Elektra’s breathing deepened, her eyelids drooping. She felt so… fuzzy, light, almost like she was floating out of her own body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. No anger, no worries, no need to be strong or alert. Just… wafting along, higher and higher, aimless and safe.

Typhoid laughed gently, taking another step, “You’re so relaxed… so defenseless… so vulnerable…”

Elektra began to sway gently, hands dangling by her flared hips, head beginning to hang from a relaxed neck. Her breasts rose and fell deeply, almost like she was asleep. A small part of her told her that something was wrong, but nothing mattered but the deep darkness in the other woman’s eyes.

“So ready to be taken…” Typhoid was almost upon her.

Everything was safe and deliciously slow, her thoughts moving through molasses when they moved at all, and always simple, tinged with lofty, tingling pleasure. Deeper. She wanted to go deeper. All the way in, where she would be surrounded, enveloped in this feeling.

The sai started to slip from limp fingers…

… and Elektra stiffened as another vision came to her.

In the vision, Typhoid advanced on her with a wicked grin while she simply stared with eyes as doe-like and soft as a sleepy calf’s. Her shoulders were slumped, her body swaying as if asleep on her feet, her weapon hanging loosely from her fingers until it slipped free and fell to the grass. She just stared, making no attempt to defend herself as the villainess closed on her.

Sneering, Typhoid looked her up and down, admiring the svelte figure before slipping an arm around the heroine’s bare waist.

Sensing she was supported, Elektra allowed herself to droop, but the villainess’s other hand came up to tangle in her hair, keeping the mesmerized face upright. Black eyes stared into Elektra’s blues, victorious, smug, dominant.

“So… delicious…” Typhoid whispered to her.

Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to the entranced assassin’s slack mouth.

The kiss seemed innocent at first and in the vision Elektra even seemed to enjoy it, but then she abruptly stiffened. She couldn’t see why, but her vision-self started to move like she was convulsing, eyes wide as too late she grabbed at Typhoid’s shoulders, trying to push away.

It was a quick, hopeless struggle. Her body gyrated and arched, pawing hastily and clumsily at her attacker, but it wasn’t long before her thrashing slowed. Her sleek arms grew heavy with fatigue, her figure slouching, a few defiant cries fading into helpless mewls. Elektra saw something bright was being pulled out of her own mouth into her attacker’s, and whatever it was left her empty as it fled. After a few more pitiful slaps, her arms drooped, her legs buckled, and she would have collapsed if Typhoid hadn’t kept her upright to suck her dry.

Abby screamed her name and ran to help her, but before the girl could even come close, vision-Elektra was a limp doll in Typhoid’s arms. The villainess whispered something to her, kissed her on the neck, then simply nudged her to the side. Elektra fell onto her shoulder and bounced, her arms flopping, making no attempt to catch herself.

Her weight rolled her onto her stomach, breathing weakly and face down in the grass, otherwise not stirring as Typhoid turned to face the approaching Abby with an eager grin.

The vision ended.

That small voice in the back of Elektra’s mind screamed. Her eyes hardened and she shook off those soft, comfortable feelings. They continued to call to her, making part of her want to melt and relax, but she forced them away, finding her anger. Her grip tightened on her sai, her back straightening, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to peel her gaze away from her attacker’s.

“Mmmm, you’re strong!” Typhoid’s eyes widened with excitement, “Actually fighting me…”

The villainess closed the gap between them, trying to reach the satin-clad assassin before she broke free.

Elektra gritted her teeth, her brow lowering, upper lip drawing up in a hateful snarl.

She was NOT some addle-brained lamb. Whatever this other woman’s abilities, she was Elektra Natchios, the deadliest assassin in the world. She would never let this woman beat her, would never leave Abby to face her. Anything that got in her way was going to get cut down.

The spell snapped like over wrought piano wire and Elektra lunged, her sai leaping towards Typhoid’s face.

The villainess actually looked shocked as she was forced to lean back to avoid the blade. The stroke was so close that it grazed her nose. Off balanced, she stumbled back, a look of concern tightening her pale features for the first time.

Before Typhoid could recover, Elektra was already taking advantage. She leapt forward and rammed a knee into the villainess’s stomach, then slashed again with her sai. The blow ripped the top of Typhoid’s silk blouse and gave her a long cut across the top of the chest.

“Yes!” Abby cheered quietly from her hiding place.

Crying out in actual pain this time, the pressed villainess lashed out with her stolen sai, but it was a desperate blow and Elektra was ready for it. Rather than dodging or knocking the strike aside, the crimson clad assassin caught it with the cross guard and blade of her own weapon, locking them. Once they were tangled, she twisted sharply.

If the two weapons had been equal in strength, the twist would have simply yanked the sai from Typhoid’s hand. However, the rust and rot the villainess’s poison had put on the blade had weakened it severely. Rather than being twisted aside, the dilapidated blade snapped off at the base with a clink.

Typhoid started in surprise, staring at what was now just a rusted handle in her hand.

“Kick her ass, Elektra!” Abby hissed, bouncing with excitement.

With the weapons no longer tangled, the crimson-clad assassin tried to shove the point of her sai through her opponent’s eye, but the attack was ducked.

Desperate to escape the close quarters battle, Typhoid swiped at Elektra with the broken handle of her weapon but left herself open in the process. Elektra reacted with honed efficiency, ducking aside and thrusting her weapon into her opponent’s ribs in the same motion. Blood was drawn and the blade stuck fast.

In a battle of masters, the first mistake was usually fatal. That mistake had just been made.

Abby frowned, but released a small sigh of relief. She didn’t like to see anybody get killed, but this woman was definitely evil and wanted to kill them. With these bad sort of people, sometimes it was the only way to be free of them. And if anyone deserved to have a sai through her ribs, it was Typhoid.

From a distance, the villainess being impaled was exactly what it looked like. For an instant, it even felt to Elektra like she’d succeeded. She felt the blade stick, warm blood touched her hand, Typhoid even stiffened like she was in shock. But something was wrong. The villainess was smiling and a heartbeat too late Elektra realized why.

The sai had drawn blood, raked along the pale woman’s ribs, but it hadn’t penetrated. Instead, she’d twisted aside just far enough to avoid it, taking the cut so she could loop her arm Elektra’s wrist. The blade wasn’t stuck inside Typhoid’s body, it was trapped under her arm, squeezed so the startled heroine couldn’t pull it free.

Then, before Elektra could pull free or let go of the weapon, Typhoid pursed her lips and gently blew a full dose of poison into the heroine’s face.

Elektra jerked her head away from the black dust, clamping her mouth shut and holding her breath. It did no good. Her skin and eyes burned, her body absorbing the poison regardless of her breath. Her throat clenched, her stomach roiled, prickles running through her body at the shock of the invasive toxins.

Typhoid stopped blowing to offer her opponent a smug grin.

“What’s the matter, Elektra?” she cooed, “You don’t like my butterfly kisses?”

Elektra tried to control herself, to force her body to fight, but in the next few seconds she was wracked with coughing. She coughed, violently, hoarsely, then drew in a breath only to cough it out again, her body convulsing with the involuntary expulsion of breath. And once she started it only grew worse.

“That doesn’t sound good, dearie,” Typhoid laughed gently, “You should think about seeing someone.”

From her hiding place, Abby blinked in surprise. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing. The villainess had just been run through, but now it was Elektra who was hacking and buckling. As she watched, her mentor looked like she was about to collapse, while it Typhoid was grinning. Was it her imagination? Was she seeing things?

As she coughed, Elektra tried to yank her trapped arm free and after a few tries, Typhoid let her. Unprepared for the sudden release, the scarlet heroine stumbled back, then fell to one knee, hunched over and jerking with heavy hacking. Her vision was blurring, a trembling weakness sinking into her muscles, the world starting to wobble. And still, she couldn’t stop coughing.

While her opponent struggled not to collapse, Typhoid lifted her arm to examine the cut on her ribs, more concerned about the damage to her outfit. She plucked at the rip in her black blouse, gauging its length, then sighed. Unrepairable.

She tossed her broken sai aside and strode towards Elektra.

“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” she said, “Strong-willed too. No one’s ever broken my control once I’ve gotten my hooks in…”

Elektra looked blearily up at her. Her convulsions were fading, but she felt utterly miserable. Her body was shaking with weakness, flushed and freezing at the same time, her head pounding, everything unsteady. The air itself weighed down on her, urging her to sink into the cool grass and lay still, even sleep.

But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

(to be continued)

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