Jessica doesn’t try to get involved in things bigger than herself, as a rule. Sure, it doesn’t always work out for her, but—well, at least she tries to keep things simple and neat. She’s not sure these two fuckers have tried that in their lives.
Elektra reaches over to spear Jessica’s shrimp on a fork. Jessica lets her—she’s not hungry, anyway, and even if she was she wouldn’t be in the mood for Chinese.
“So,” says Elektra, her mouth full, “do we have a plan?”
“There’s still no we,” says Jessica.
“We’re all eating together,” Danny Rand, Boy Billionaire, points out.
She looks at Luke, who so far seems like the only other person in this shitshow who is just as aware as she is of its status as a shitshow. She’s a little disappointed when she sees him chewing thoughtfully on a slice of chicken.
“But that’s why we’re here,” says Danny, earnestly. “To work out a plan.”
“Correction,” says Elektra, “we’re all only here because it was the best place to hide out and it serves really good food.” She swallows, wipes off her mouth with a tissue, which is a small courtesy. At least she didn’t do it with Jessica’s scarf. “The plan, we still need to work out, and I’m all ears if anyone’s got something.”
“Well, the legal way didn’t work out,” says Danny, with a sigh. “I tried it—see? I even put on a tie!”
“Working from the bottom up didn’t work out, either,” says Luke. “The kid I was keeping an eye out for—” He stops, huffs out a quiet breath. “Well. They’re pretty thorough.” He pauses, then says, “And that guy with the swords. Who was he?”
Ah, yes. The little motherfucker in red with the swords and the ninja-flips. If Jessica never sees him again it’d be too soon, it’s thanks to him that John Raymond’s brains are splattered all over the wall of her apartment, thanks to him that her life has taken a wild left turn into cheap and vaguely racist kung fu movie.
Elektra, beside her, has gone still.
“I’m not sure,” says Danny. “I fought him in Cambodia—he’s fast, faster than the other members of the Hand I’ve gone up against.”
“Yeah, I met him too,” says Jessica, propping an elbow up on the table. “He tried to skewer someone in my apartment.” She glances sideways at Elektra, and says, “Seems like you’d get along with him.”
Elektra shakes her head. “He went after your client?” she asks.
“You know him?” says Luke.
Elektra’s eyes dart briefly away from Jessica, and she picks at her food, her fork tinking against the porcelain. “No,” she says, and it doesn’t sound like a lie. “I’m surprised, that’s all. At this point, the hero of Harlem here is the only one he hasn’t gone after yet.”
“And every hour I thank god for that,” says Luke. “You know how much hoodies cost when you have to buy them every few days?”
“I could help,” says Danny, earnestly.
“I can buy my own hoodies,” says Luke, coolly. “Anyway. Guy with the swords. What do we know?”
“Nothing,” says Jessica. “Zip, zilch, nada.” She glances briefly at Elektra, who’s prodding at a dumpling with her chopstick, a contrast to her earlier appetite. Something’s up with her, Jessica’s sure, and that something involves the guy in red. “Elektra?” she says.
“I told you already,” says Elektra. “I don’t know him. Or it.”
“It?” says Luke, incredulously.
“He looked human to me,” says Danny.
“Trust me, whatever he is, it’s something else,” says Elektra, her tone brooking no argument. She’s lost her smile, too, that frustratingly ever-present grin like she’d thought everything happening around her was a little bit amusing—this is something she’s not going to budge on. Not an inch. “Something that isn’t human.”
“Well, whatever he is,” says Luke, “he knew what he was doing.”
“The Hand trains its warriors to be merciless,” says Danny, eyes darting between all three of them. “But this guy’s something else entirely.”
“He moves like a Russian gymnast, I can tell that much,” says Jessica.
“He’s trained by the Hand, of course he does,” says Elektra, and Jessica knows bullshit when she hears it. She’s about to say so when Danny says:
“But we can fight him.”
Jessica turns in her seat and gapes at him. “We? I just want to crack my case. I did not sign up for this ninja bullshit.”
“Neither did I,” says Luke. “I came to Midland Circle to help one family, the best way I could. Ancient organizations are—a little outside my worldview.”
“So expand it,” says Elektra.
“We all came to Midland Circle for different reasons,” says Danny, leaning forward. God, he’s so earnest, it almost breaks Jessica’s shriveled husk of a heart. “But I think—we came together for a reason. Because of fate. I mean, come on, look at us!”
Jessica says, “We’re a bunch of people who got thrown together ‘cause we were working the same case and had to fight our way out of the mess it put us in. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Beyond that,” says Danny. “Don’t you feel it? I mean—” He waves a hand at Luke, at Elektra, at Jessica herself. “Bulletproof, Black Sky, and. Whatever it is you are.”
“Classy,” says Jessica.
“I think I’m disqualified as the Black Sky on the grounds of very strenuously objecting,” says Elektra. “All right—the Hand. We need to take them down.”
“Who said anything about taking them down?” says Jessica. “We need to get them off our backs. Ideally in a way that doesn’t incriminate us.”
“Incriminate us, what are you talking about—” starts Danny.
“None of us were on police payroll,” says Jessica, steamrolling over Danny’s protests. “What we did back there was aggravated assault, trespassing, and so much vigilante bullshit.”
“Also murder,” says Luke.
“The Hand doesn’t count,” says Elektra. “An evil like that? Needs to be destroyed root and stem.”
“Are you even hearing yourself right now?” says Luke. “You stabbed someone through the eye.”
“I stabbed multiple someones through the eye, technically,” says Elektra. “And it doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.”
“She is, though,” says Danny, which, what the fuck. “The Hand is dangerous, and we need to destroy it and then salt the earth where they used to be.”
“What the fuck,” says Jessica.
“I know someone we can bring in,” says Luke, glancing at Jessica, “a cop, and a good one at that. We can trust her.”
Which is barely a comfort, because Elektra apparently doesn’t give much of a shit about cops, but still.
“You’re just going to put her in danger,” says Elektra. “Her and everyone else she loves. The Hand doesn’t know anything about mercy—you should know that.”
She punctuates this ominous declaration by reaching over to steal the last dumpling off Luke’s plate. Luke swats her on the knuckles with his chopsticks, says, “Stick to your own plate.”
“You’re no fun,” says Elektra.
--
Here’s a joke:
A man with unbreakable skin, a kid with a glowing fist, a surly PI with super-strength, and a businesswoman with two sai hole up in a restaurant on the edge of town.
Then a blind man walks in, a sword in one hand and just the one hand because he apparently lost the other one, and says, “This is a shitty excuse for a hideout.”
What’s the punch line?
Elektra doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t even think this is funny.
“Stick,” she spits. “You’ve lost a hand.”
“Ellie,” says Stick. “You’ve gone soft.”
Luke holds out a hand before she can charge forward, blocking her way. “Who are you?” he says, evenly.
“I thought you said you locked everything,” Jessica hisses.
“I did,” Elektra whispers back. To Stick, she says, “I’ll show you soft—”
“I’m the guy who’s going to help you dumbasses,” says Stick, waving the sword at all four of them, “save New York.”
“Since when do you care about New York?” says Elektra, one hand in her bag, curling around the hilt of her sai.
“Since when did you?” Stick shoots back, sheathing the sword. “Hand out of the bag, Elektra. For now, we’re on the same side.”
“You know this guy?” Rand asks.
“He raised me and trained me to fight his war and then tried to kill me,” says Elektra, taking her hand out of her bag. “Stick? Get out of this restaurant and the city. We don’t need your help.”
“Pretty sure you do,” says Stick, and damn it, he’s right. Stick has the most experience in going up against the Hand, and he’d be an invaluable resource, but she can’t forget how they fought. “You want this city to not crumble like a fortune cookie, right?”
“Considering that we all live here, yes, that’s priority number one,” says Luke. To Elektra, he says, “Is he with them?”
“He’s with another organization,” says Elektra.
“Let me guess, it’s ancient and powerful and has a stupid name,” says Jessica.
“We call ourselves the Chaste,” says Stick, walking towards them easy as you please. He bows to Danny Rand—bows to him, seriously! Elektra’s never seen him do that to anyone who hadn’t earned his respect first, before. “We follow the Iron Fist.”
“These names,” Jessica says, contemplatively, “are going to kill me.”
fill. role reversal au: elektra as a defender, matt as an assassin (2/2)
Jessica doesn’t try to get involved in things bigger than herself, as a rule. Sure, it doesn’t always work out for her, but—well, at least she tries to keep things simple and neat. She’s not sure these two fuckers have tried that in their lives.
Elektra reaches over to spear Jessica’s shrimp on a fork. Jessica lets her—she’s not hungry, anyway, and even if she was she wouldn’t be in the mood for Chinese.
“So,” says Elektra, her mouth full, “do we have a plan?”
“There’s still no we,” says Jessica.
“We’re all eating together,” Danny Rand, Boy Billionaire, points out.
She looks at Luke, who so far seems like the only other person in this shitshow who is just as aware as she is of its status as a shitshow. She’s a little disappointed when she sees him chewing thoughtfully on a slice of chicken.
“But that’s why we’re here,” says Danny, earnestly. “To work out a plan.”
“Correction,” says Elektra, “we’re all only here because it was the best place to hide out and it serves really good food.” She swallows, wipes off her mouth with a tissue, which is a small courtesy. At least she didn’t do it with Jessica’s scarf. “The plan, we still need to work out, and I’m all ears if anyone’s got something.”
“Well, the legal way didn’t work out,” says Danny, with a sigh. “I tried it—see? I even put on a tie!”
“Working from the bottom up didn’t work out, either,” says Luke. “The kid I was keeping an eye out for—” He stops, huffs out a quiet breath. “Well. They’re pretty thorough.” He pauses, then says, “And that guy with the swords. Who was he?”
Ah, yes. The little motherfucker in red with the swords and the ninja-flips. If Jessica never sees him again it’d be too soon, it’s thanks to him that John Raymond’s brains are splattered all over the wall of her apartment, thanks to him that her life has taken a wild left turn into cheap and vaguely racist kung fu movie.
Elektra, beside her, has gone still.
“I’m not sure,” says Danny. “I fought him in Cambodia—he’s fast, faster than the other members of the Hand I’ve gone up against.”
“Yeah, I met him too,” says Jessica, propping an elbow up on the table. “He tried to skewer someone in my apartment.” She glances sideways at Elektra, and says, “Seems like you’d get along with him.”
Elektra shakes her head. “He went after your client?” she asks.
“You know him?” says Luke.
Elektra’s eyes dart briefly away from Jessica, and she picks at her food, her fork tinking against the porcelain. “No,” she says, and it doesn’t sound like a lie. “I’m surprised, that’s all. At this point, the hero of Harlem here is the only one he hasn’t gone after yet.”
“And every hour I thank god for that,” says Luke. “You know how much hoodies cost when you have to buy them every few days?”
“I could help,” says Danny, earnestly.
“I can buy my own hoodies,” says Luke, coolly. “Anyway. Guy with the swords. What do we know?”
“Nothing,” says Jessica. “Zip, zilch, nada.” She glances briefly at Elektra, who’s prodding at a dumpling with her chopstick, a contrast to her earlier appetite. Something’s up with her, Jessica’s sure, and that something involves the guy in red. “Elektra?” she says.
“I told you already,” says Elektra. “I don’t know him. Or it.”
“It?” says Luke, incredulously.
“He looked human to me,” says Danny.
“Trust me, whatever he is, it’s something else,” says Elektra, her tone brooking no argument. She’s lost her smile, too, that frustratingly ever-present grin like she’d thought everything happening around her was a little bit amusing—this is something she’s not going to budge on. Not an inch. “Something that isn’t human.”
“Well, whatever he is,” says Luke, “he knew what he was doing.”
“The Hand trains its warriors to be merciless,” says Danny, eyes darting between all three of them. “But this guy’s something else entirely.”
“He moves like a Russian gymnast, I can tell that much,” says Jessica.
“He’s trained by the Hand, of course he does,” says Elektra, and Jessica knows bullshit when she hears it. She’s about to say so when Danny says:
“But we can fight him.”
Jessica turns in her seat and gapes at him. “We? I just want to crack my case. I did not sign up for this ninja bullshit.”
“Neither did I,” says Luke. “I came to Midland Circle to help one family, the best way I could. Ancient organizations are—a little outside my worldview.”
“So expand it,” says Elektra.
“We all came to Midland Circle for different reasons,” says Danny, leaning forward. God, he’s so earnest, it almost breaks Jessica’s shriveled husk of a heart. “But I think—we came together for a reason. Because of fate. I mean, come on, look at us!”
Jessica says, “We’re a bunch of people who got thrown together ‘cause we were working the same case and had to fight our way out of the mess it put us in. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Beyond that,” says Danny. “Don’t you feel it? I mean—” He waves a hand at Luke, at Elektra, at Jessica herself. “Bulletproof, Black Sky, and. Whatever it is you are.”
“Classy,” says Jessica.
“I think I’m disqualified as the Black Sky on the grounds of very strenuously objecting,” says Elektra. “All right—the Hand. We need to take them down.”
“Who said anything about taking them down?” says Jessica. “We need to get them off our backs. Ideally in a way that doesn’t incriminate us.”
“Incriminate us, what are you talking about—” starts Danny.
“None of us were on police payroll,” says Jessica, steamrolling over Danny’s protests. “What we did back there was aggravated assault, trespassing, and so much vigilante bullshit.”
“Also murder,” says Luke.
“The Hand doesn’t count,” says Elektra. “An evil like that? Needs to be destroyed root and stem.”
“Are you even hearing yourself right now?” says Luke. “You stabbed someone through the eye.”
“I stabbed multiple someones through the eye, technically,” says Elektra. “And it doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.”
“She is, though,” says Danny, which, what the fuck. “The Hand is dangerous, and we need to destroy it and then salt the earth where they used to be.”
“What the fuck,” says Jessica.
“I know someone we can bring in,” says Luke, glancing at Jessica, “a cop, and a good one at that. We can trust her.”
Which is barely a comfort, because Elektra apparently doesn’t give much of a shit about cops, but still.
“You’re just going to put her in danger,” says Elektra. “Her and everyone else she loves. The Hand doesn’t know anything about mercy—you should know that.”
She punctuates this ominous declaration by reaching over to steal the last dumpling off Luke’s plate. Luke swats her on the knuckles with his chopsticks, says, “Stick to your own plate.”
“You’re no fun,” says Elektra.
--
Here’s a joke:
A man with unbreakable skin, a kid with a glowing fist, a surly PI with super-strength, and a businesswoman with two sai hole up in a restaurant on the edge of town.
Then a blind man walks in, a sword in one hand and just the one hand because he apparently lost the other one, and says, “This is a shitty excuse for a hideout.”
What’s the punch line?
Elektra doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t even think this is funny.
“Stick,” she spits. “You’ve lost a hand.”
“Ellie,” says Stick. “You’ve gone soft.”
Luke holds out a hand before she can charge forward, blocking her way. “Who are you?” he says, evenly.
“I thought you said you locked everything,” Jessica hisses.
“I did,” Elektra whispers back. To Stick, she says, “I’ll show you soft—”
“I’m the guy who’s going to help you dumbasses,” says Stick, waving the sword at all four of them, “save New York.”
“Since when do you care about New York?” says Elektra, one hand in her bag, curling around the hilt of her sai.
“Since when did you?” Stick shoots back, sheathing the sword. “Hand out of the bag, Elektra. For now, we’re on the same side.”
“You know this guy?” Rand asks.
“He raised me and trained me to fight his war and then tried to kill me,” says Elektra, taking her hand out of her bag. “Stick? Get out of this restaurant and the city. We don’t need your help.”
“Pretty sure you do,” says Stick, and damn it, he’s right. Stick has the most experience in going up against the Hand, and he’d be an invaluable resource, but she can’t forget how they fought. “You want this city to not crumble like a fortune cookie, right?”
“Considering that we all live here, yes, that’s priority number one,” says Luke. To Elektra, he says, “Is he with them?”
“He’s with another organization,” says Elektra.
“Let me guess, it’s ancient and powerful and has a stupid name,” says Jessica.
“We call ourselves the Chaste,” says Stick, walking towards them easy as you please. He bows to Danny Rand—bows to him, seriously! Elektra’s never seen him do that to anyone who hadn’t earned his respect first, before. “We follow the Iron Fist.”
“These names,” Jessica says, contemplatively, “are going to kill me.”