Brief Title:

Elektra, Ultragirl

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
08/30/12 23:30

Manhattan, New York City

Elektra researches possible contracts and meets Ultragirl

Social or Plot:


New York is the city that never sleeps, and Midtown Manhattan is certainly no exception. Tt's a little before midnight, so traffic has thinned significantly but there's still a regular stream of pedestrians along the sidewalks. There's a party in the Ellington Club tonight, where Antonio Valachi is celebrating his wife's birthday with 100 or so of his closest friends. He bought out the club. Limos line the street, chauffers inside to keep out of the night air as they watch the club for their employers to emerge.

Outside, across the street in an alleyway, another watches the club as well. The long coat is cut for a woman, high heeled boots confirming. With the lapels pulled up and a classic fedora pulled down tight to obscure her features, Elektra watches and waits. Valachi isn't on her list tonight, which is probably fortunate for him. No, she's more interested in the others attending the party.

It's Friday night, which means that Suzy doesn't have to be home by midnight (Silly parental rules... she doesn't even need that much sleep, these days!), so she's flying about the city doing her 'patrolling' thing that she likes to do. Of course, she doesn't have any sort of super-vision or anything of the sort, so she's not flying a few stories up, as she'll do in the day time, 'cause otherwise she wouldn't be able to see down to street level as easily as she'd like.

This particular Friday night, her flight-path takes her over mid-town, where she pulls up short and hovers in place on seeing all the limos and fancily-dressed people who're going into the club. "Wow... must some ritzy party or something!", she comments, to herself of course, as she puts her hands on her hips and watches for a few moments. "Oooh!", she adds, recognizing an older model, a very comely young woman in her early 20's, on the arm of one of the '100 closest friends' of the party's host.

In the alley below, Elektra is watching faces and committing license plates to memory. As a prominent member of New York City's underworld, Valachi's guest list is practically golden; a veritable Who's-Who of organized crime. There are a few names that are on -her- list as well, although she will likely only accept one or two actual contracts once she's finished her research. And that's when the flying heroine catches her attention. Not really the sort of complication this assassin needs, tonight. Easing back into the alley, it's either by coincidence or perhaps fate that Ultragirl's glance strays across the street as the woman starts to slip away. It's not a nice alley, and certainly not a place for respectable people to go.

Ultragirl, as fate would have it, glances over towards that particular alley just in time to see... "Oh my gosh...! I think I found Carmen Sandiego!", she says to herself. She then pauses a moment to think... Either that woman in the fedora's risking trouble by going into that alley, or she *is* trouble, which is why she's gonig into the alley. Whatever the case, the teen heroine decides to... 'investigate'... by simply flying over into that alley to see what there is to see.

Hands thrust into coat pockets, Elektra strides briskly into the alley; deeper into the darkness. A discrete glance is all it takes to realize she's being followed. And let's face it, the orange costume isn't exactly discrete. Dumpsters and trash cans line the shadowy walls, in stark contrast to the nicely-lit street. Once the street is no longer visible, the woman suddenly rounds and turns to face the flying heroine. "Why are you following me?" she blurts out directly.

Ultragirl wasn't exactly trying to be sneaky, so it doesn't really surprise her when the woman turns to face her. Coming to a hovering stop, she puts her hands on her hips. "Well", she says, "Alleys in any part of the city aren't really nice at night, and this one's kinda yuckier-looking than most of 'em in this part of town. I was making sure you weren't gonna get mugged or something."

The response may be surprising, and comes in the form of a wry smile and a soft chuckle. "I'll be okay. Believe me." The brim of the hat tips up a little, the woman's lips painted bright red. Her long, black hair spills free as well as blue eyes study the hovering teen. "Tell me something. What do you know of those people, the ones going into the Club?"

"At the club? Well, they're rich... their clothes and the limos, duh! And they're rich enough that famous people like to be with them, like Cherry... she's a model I met once. I saw her with some rich guy going into the club", Ultragirl says, gesturing back at the club, then 'randomly' in the air as she speaks. "What're you doing sneaking around in alleys dressed like Carmen Sandiego?", she asks, then, both hands falling back to her hips.

Elektra's blue eyes don't waver, although her smile becomes almost amused. "The ones who aren't models or movie stars are criminals. Drugs. Racketeering. Prostitution. They live above the law, so the police won't touch them." There's an unspoken implication in her voice... the police won't, but SHE will.

Ultragirl's eyebrows furrow together and she turns in the air to look back out of the alley towards the club where the party's happening, hands still on her hips. "I don't think Cherry was into any of that kinda thing. She was kinda slutty, sure, but I don't think she was a protitute or anything. She maybe did some drugs, too, but I never saw it, and I don't think she's got the guts to actually /sell/ the stuff. She's probably just there 'cause she's got nice legs and boobs, huh?"

Another soft chuckle and Elektra shakes her head. "Oh, she's not into it that I know of. You're right, she's there as eye-candy. They bring in the celebrities to make themselves look legitimate. I highly doubt that Cherry has any idea what these people do." Looking over the teen again, she asks. "So what is it that brings -you- out on such a late night? Shouldn't you be in bed or something?"

Turning back to face Elektra, Ultragirl drops some altitude so that she's hovering about as tall as she's stand... just not touching her feet to the ground. "It's not a school night!", she says, with a little pout on her lips and some 'stubborn' in her voice -- it sounds like an argument she's had before. "... and I'm patrolling, in case bad stuff happens that I could help with", she adds, with a nod of her head, for emphasis.

Elektra nods slowly, sizing up the hovering girl. "Then you're doing right to watch the group in the club. Except you'll never actually -see- them doing bad stuff. They have -people- to do that for them." The smile returns, then. "Your heart is in the right place, but those people do not deserve your protection and they are beyond justice. Retribution is another matter."

Ultragirl's lips, still a little pouty, turn into a little frown, now. "Well, if I don't see someone doing anything wrong, how'm I supposed to stop them?", she wonders. "Anyway... I try and protect everyone. It's not right to say someone's worth saving and someone else isn't. I'm trying to be a hero, so I'll try and help everyone when they need it, no matter who they are", she adds, with yet another single nod of her head, hands still on her hips. She's definitely got that 'paragon complex' thing happening.

Elektra remembers being so young and idealistic once, and the girl's manner brings a small smile to her lips. But that was a long time ago. She resists the 'you'll understand when you're older' line at least, which is probably to her credit. "Good. This City needs more heroes. What is your name? Or what do they call you when you're... patrolling?" she asks simply.

The flying girl grins a wry little grin with one side of her mouth. "You don't watch the new much, huh? I'm Ultragirl!", she says, the last two words said with a little toss of her head, as if to make her hair flair the way it did, and with her hands still on her hips, she even puffs out her chest a little, as if mimicking Saturday-morning cartoon superheroes' poses.

The smile broadens and the woman shakes her head quickly. "I don't watch much television." she declares. Probably a heretical statement, as far as the teen would be concerned. It would be rude not to give her own name, or at least a codename, in return. For a moment, Elektra considers using one of her many aliases. Perverse humor prevails, however. "I'm Elektra." This teen probably hasn't even heard of her, but a little bit of street research will turn up the urban legend.

"So... What's with the Carmen Sandiego outfit?", Ultragirl asks, going back to her earlier musings and comment about the fedora and trenchcoat. "You some kinda 'super-spy'?", she asks, even lifting her hands to make air-quotes as she says those two words.

Elektra chuckles softly. "I'm trying to be discrete, actually." she replies. "But no, I'm not a spy. I'm just someone who cares about the damage Tony Valachi is doing to the world. Just because the police won't stop him doesn't mean he and his cronies shouldn't be stopped."

"If you're going for 'discrete', you're doing it wrong. Maybe you aren't dressed in 'bike messenger orange' like me, but you still stick out. You /look/ like you're trying to be sneaky. Nobody does the hat and coat, especially not with the collar up like that, unless they're in a B-rated spy movie, these days", Ultragirl says, lifting one hand, palm up, as she speaks... a useless, completely superfluous gesture, of course. "If anyone noticed you, like I did, they'd've only looked at you harder because of how you're dressed."

E pushes the fedora up more fully, now, looking quite amused. "Really? What would you suggest then, Ultragirl? Certainly not orange, but how about red? Or even white?" Her expression is almost as playful as it is curious, to see what this teen heroine will suggest.

"Well, that depends on what you wanna do. I /want/ people to see me. It's part of my job for the company... kinda like free advertising for them", Ultragirl says, holding up her hand, the back of it to Elektra, to show off the UnderArmor logo on the wristband. "But the spy-movie outfit's an eye-catching kinda thing, and it's /really/ cliche."

Elektra smiles a little when she spots the endorsement on the wristband. What IS the world coming to these days? Heroes with sponsors? Costumes as advertising space? "Oh, I can avoid being seen when I want to. I just got careless tonight, is all." There's a difference between being discrete and being invisible, after all. "If it wasn't 'invitation-only', I'd be inside wearing an evening gown."

The comment makes Ultragirl turn around to look back again at the club, even rise up in the air to get a better look at it over the cars and such. "Well, rich people like their rich people friends. People have cliques no matter how rich they are, though. It's how people are", she says, her hands falling back to her hips. From how she seems to like to hover and such, it's probably a good thing that her costume is a bodysuit with /pants/, and not a skirt.

Elektra shrugs at that. "Of course they do. It's human nature for people to associate with friends." That's why she's here, after all, to make note of friends and friends of friends. Her expression fades, then, and she offers. "I need to be going, Ultragirl, but it was nice talking with you." A pause, and then she adds. "Do not get too close to these people, and do not envy what they are. You're not like them."

"Well, of course I'm not. I'm super-powered, they aren't... well, not that I can see, and they all look like normal people without powers, to my eyes... blue all over the place", Ultragirl says, still looking and gesturing with one hand over towards the club. "... and I'd be a buncha them'd be jealous of me, 'cause I /have/ superpowers and they don't", she adds, her one hand falling back to her waist as she turns back to Elektra.

It doesn't take long, just those few moments when Ultragirl turns to gesture towards the club. And when she turns back, Elektra is gone. Nowhere in sight, and not so much as a sound when she left. To keen senses, the lingering aroma of her perfume remains behind, but that's all. Where the alley opens up into the street again, limos are starting up and party-goers are beginning to filter out of the club. Elektra will have to finish her surveillance another night, it seems. And she'll keep an eye out for the idealistic girl in orange.

Ultragirl's eyes widen and she looks down the alley, up the walls, even flits up to where she can see the rooftops... and doesn't catch sight of Elektra. "Huh... maybe that Carmen Sandiego outfit's /right/ for her, after all, huh?", she comments to herself, as she starts back off on her patrol-flight.

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