The Partner, The Hand, and the Message

March 26, 2016:

A member of the Hand is revealed to be the long lost friend of Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock.

Nelson & Murdock

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Karen Page, Matt Murdock

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Both partners at Nelson & Murdock are working late. Only one of them is in the office at the moment. The other one is out doing his Other Job, the one that involves that outfit that is /totally/ not underwear and a lot of parkour. Foggy, being possibly the World's Least Likely Man To Parkour, is the one in the office, going over statements from a police officer that he is about 90 sure contradict the evidence in the case against his 16-year-old client, and the photos the client's mother took of the scene.

Despite it being a pro-bono case, he's still deeply, deeply focused on the opening statement he's penning between glances at the police report. And unlikely to notice things like, say, the almost-non-existent noises a ninja assassin would make breaking into the office.


It was like stealing candy from a baby.

The light illuminated the hallway from the office doors that were easily broken into with a twist and turn of her sai. She wasn't being gentle with the locks, and even if it wasn't locked she still wanted to leave just a little something behind to let 'that one' know that she was here. Where as most would sneak and stick to the corners of the office, this one was bold. Bold in the sense that she had that 'you can't touch me because I'm better than you' attitude, though fingers retained the grip upon that lone sai that she carried and a fist that was nearly white-knuckled in anticipation for a sideways attack.

But still, there was no sound. No leather that was worn that would creak with each step, the floor held up her weight even as she adjusts and distributes while reattaching her weaponry.

Her hand slowly sinks down, withdrawing a few shuriken which were held in her grasp and evenly distributed throughout the office.

*THWIP*THWIP*CRACK!*

The lights were out. Glass littering the hardwood floors of the office which were the only other thing that was heard aside from their initial break.


And that is when Foggy hits the floor, with a cry of "WHAT THE FUCK?" preceeding the *thud* sound of his not-so-graceful landing.

He hides under his desk, clutching that beaten leather briefcase of his to his chest as if it's actually capable of protecting him. Shit. Shit. Thank God Karen isn't in the office with him.


*CRUNCH*

The glass cracks and crumbles beneath her boot as she begins the predatory gait, her eyes darting left and right in the darkness as she hunkers down at a slight crouch, grinning beneath her mask. "Heeeere Foggy, Foggy.."

Everyone knows them. The illustrious Nelson & Murdock for hire. Helping the downtrodden and beaten by the law, they were considered a staple presence in the community. And they were also protected by the great, red, Devil. "Fooooogggy.." She sings out, british lilt upon her tongue. "You cannot hide from me."

The first office she steps into was Matt's. There was no one there. The desk was a mess of something that tugs and twists at her memory, but she wouldn't allow it to come forth. She stands there for but a breath of a second, refocusing and centering, normalizing her breathing with a slight roll of her head and shoulders coupled with a long exhale.


Well, that rules out this being a random break in. Is that… No. It can't be. He's flashing back to college, and several double-dates, when Matt was dating that rich Greek girl.
"What the fuck? Elektra?!" He says that out loud. Because he knew the girl was… not exactly the poster girl for stability when she was dating Matt, but in no way does the possibility that /she's now a ninja-assassin/ enter his mind. Because Foggy is not crazy. Or, well, he's at least the least-crazy person in Matt's life, give or take some clients.


Not here. Not here. Other office, because he wasn't here.

Right when she whips around to take a step, everything falls still. He knows her name. Maybe he should. She's made a name for herself since she's died and returned to life. A name that struck fear into the hearts of men and women alike. Children? No. She gave them lollies and love.

Her brows furrow as her lips curl beneath her mask, stalking rather quickly towards the office of Foggy Nelson, her entire resolve dropping in that moment as she breaches the door with a hand outstretched to grip the end of the desk to fling it towards the wall with a crash.

Her entire body was stiff in the way that she reaches down to grab Foggy by the collar of his shirt, hoisting him up upon his feet if she managed to grab ahold.

Who was this Foggy Nelson? His gorgeous little babyface was something to remember as well as the flashes of his smile and infectious laughter..

..she always liked Foggy..

..who was Foggy?

"Who told you my name!?" She nearly shouts out. "Who the hell are you?!"


"Uh, you kinda just said /my/ name. Foggy?" he answes, peeking over the desk, bag still clutched like a teddybear. "Franklin Nelson. You dated my partner in college? For like. A couple months?" Which is an admittedly pretty longterm, considering Matt's dating habits. "We went to that glow in the dark mini-golf place once, with Matt and Marci?" And Marci hated it, and Matt /still/ kicked his ass. "Why are you wearing a mask?"


"You're a target.."

Franklin Nelson.

It was almost like a dream. Even as he speaks it she could hear the voices within her mind play out that night filled with joy and laughter. The playful bickering in between two best friends at the clack of the iron knocking against the ball. How it glides so easily and sunk into the hole as Elektra herself cheers and Marci claps to show her good nature.

"What?"

No, focus on the mission. Not Matt. Not Foggy. Not the reckless abandonment that made up their youth and time in college. Not the fancy dinners she's subjected Matthew to nor the long nights upon the rooftop. This obviously angers her, to the point where she unceremoniously rears back and punches Foggy right upon the mouth.

"Shut up! I am not that woman." Why was she wearing a mask. Because she could. That's why! But she wasn't likely to answer that, she had let him go then, turning away from him, her fingers drawing up to rub at her temples to force everything back. She was angry. Angry. She was slipping fast.


Foggy grew up as a pudgy kid in Hell's Kitchen. He may have never learned to fight back, but he at least knows how to take a punch. He instinctively moves with it to keep her from knocking his teeth out, though his bottom lip splits right open, and the top is cut on his teeth. He is so very, very confused. Does Matt /know/ his ex girlfriend is… whatever Elektra is now?

He remembers picking out Matt's suits for those fancy dinners, making sure his socks matched his shoes. Chipping in so he could buy her a gift- what had it been? A necklace? Bracelet. He remembered the jewelry store and the eye the clerk was giving the two law students scraping together the money for what had to be one of the cheapest things in the store, even if it was quality.

"Why…?" he asks again, touching his hand to his mouth, now filling with blood.


Something within Elektra pulls her towards the door. One foot in front of the other. What the Hand doesn't know wouldn't hurt them, right? Matthew and Franklin. They were a better part of her younger years and even though she left unwillingly, it broke her heart. Just like it was breaking now. She was close to tears, and that angered her where it shouldn't have. Even though the memories were creeping upon her, the influence of the Beast was more potent. More direct. It tapped and channeled to the point she gritted her teeth and took another step -BACK- with a turn that has her foot striking out to catch Foggy's rib.

"BECAUSE IT'S WHATS NECESSARY!"

And then she punches him again.

"Because it's whats -RIGHT-!"

And again.

"New York will belong to the Hand even if I have to tear down it's foundation.."

"BRICK!"

She kicks him.

"BY BRICK!"

The last punch has her heaving, her hands shaking, rage apparent. "What the Hand wants. The Hand gets. You will -NEVER- be safe. NONE OF YOU! Even the stars in the sky will fall by the slice of my blade.."


Each strike brings out a cry of pain- he is /not/ a tough target, if it weren't for the crunch of bone and bleading, it'd be like kicking a sandbag around. And as he loses conciousness, he really starts to empathize with all those cuts and bruises Matt shows up to the office with. So /this/ is what it's like to be hit by someone who knows how to do it. And he's pretty sure he's about to die.


"Not yet." Elektra hisses, reaching down to grab him and drag him with a heaving tug towards the wall. She props him upright, keeping that kneel as her fingers join together with a crack of her knuckles. She reaches forward, lifting up his chin to study his features, then releases. "You're not going to die yet."

She stands and moves slow, heading towards the door.

"Five hundred thousand breaths. That's more than enough time for you to deliver the message. And when you breathe those last ten breaths.. it will be your last."

Aside from the wreckage of the lights within the office, the shuriken implanted where the lights once were, the upturned desk and the broken Foggy.. it was like she was never, ever there.

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