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Chapter 39: I'm The Main Character
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[I wanted to watch this with my kids, but this is too bloody for children. Bye.]
[Well, understandable.]
[This is becoming even more bloody and gory than the Punisher and even the Boys.]
[Alright, I'm back, I've sent my kids to play in the mud.]
[...]
[What? Did you think he'd actually miss peak?]
[Respect] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1]
Elektra was being pushed to her absolute limits. Why did I take this contract? she cursed internally.
If only he were just a madman; he was more. He was more like a mad scientist of war.
Even as he traded injuries, he ensured his were never crippling, while his strikes aimed to systematically dismantle her.
However, Adam noticed that just as he was adapting and improving, she too was improving.
She was pushing her speed beyond her limits, her instinct seemingly awakening, the assassins' instinct.
The tables were starting to turn again. Her speed is getting faster and faster, and her instinctual reactions are improving.
He can predict and read, but he can not react in time or move fast enough, simply because she's so much faster and limber.
Therefore, Elektra decided to end it all with a blinding flurry of strikes meant to overwhelm any defense.
Adam was too locked in to retreat. He met the storm head-on, as if death were no fear of his.
The final confrontation was a blur of motion and blood. Elektra, with a desperate, final twist, managed to get her sai past his guard.
It was as if they were both experiencing time dilation, and they both realized how the confrontation would end in an instant.
Elektra will win. Adam realized. He will die. Her sai will slash his face apart, shredding it apart like shawarma.
Still have to eat shawarma tonight, he mused, and dying like this isn't epic enough for his aesthetic... Maybe another day.
Therefore, Slow, Stupefy, and finally, Brittle, the latest addition to his reservoir, thanks to envying the Punisher's limitless endurance.
[The fuck?]
[...] [...] [...] [...] [...]
[I feel sorry for her. She's just been downgraded to oblivion.]
[Holy fuck, his power is annoying. I pity his future enemies.]
[Imagine fighting someone on nearly equal footing, then they just snap their fingers, and you're demoted to a foot soldier.]
[Brittle means hard but liable to break easily, if anyone's wondering. Just did my research.]
[...] [That's something you have to research? Tf?]
[What are you? Two years old? Lol.]
[Eight years old, actually, and don't make fun of me!]
[Oh, ahem, sorry.]
The blade that should've sliced his head instead sliced a deep line across his left eye.
Simultaneously, Adam's superheated sword carved a ruthless path from her collarbone down to her abdomen.
They separated. Adam stood, blood pouring from the ruined socket of his left eye.
Elektra stared down in shock at the horrific, sizzling wound that split her torso, her body going into systemic shock from the trauma and blood loss.
She collapsed to her knees, then onto her side, the world fading to grey. Why did she lose? She was confused.
Why did she suddenly feel so different, so much worse in every possible way?
The last thing she heard was his voice, calm and matter-of-fact. "If you survive, you should find me."
She fell unconscious, leaving Adam standing alone in a pool of his own blood.
He did consider finishing her. A quick thrust would end it. But he deemed her potential future usefulness; the techniques she could still teach him; to outweigh the offense of her attack.
She had, after all, been the catalyst for a breakthrough. "It's impressive, really. Despite downgrading her, she still, on instinct, auto-corrected and did this to me... No one can be underestimated."
He reached up and felt his left eye. The world was dark on that side. His expression was calm, almost curious.
"Am I doing this intentionally, though?" He wondered aloud. "Ticking all the main character boxes? The white hair, the scars, the eyepatch-to-be… Maybe not an eyepatch." He shrugged. "Well, I am the star of the show."
But his mind was already dissecting the event. His goal had been simple: defeat her without Envy.
In pursuing that, his mind had entered a state of pure, pragmatic analysis... Only to still fail.
Sacrificing his eye, however, he considers to be an efficient method to secure victory.
He didn't care much for the eye itself; he was constantly using external cameras and his mechanical spiders for vision anyway.
That was how he'd sensed or seen her approach.
What attracted his curiosity, however, was the state he was previously in; it was wonderful, unlike anything he's experienced before.
He named the state Information Cognition. He had felt her exuding data, and he had absorbed and processed it.
Was this a latent talent unlocked or created by the help of Doom's intellect, or was it a deeper function of the [Information] system itself?
He had much to learn, but he suspects the latter due to how [Information] works.
He packed his gear, leaving Elektra bleeding on the rooftop. It would be advantageous if she lived, but her death was an acceptable outcome.
He felt no kindness, no malice, no hatred. It was indifference.
The building's surveillance systems, now his eyes, guided his bloody exit. He slid into his car and started the engine.
As he drove, his secure phone rang. The number was the Top Man's. He raised his brow; what now? And answered.
The voice that came through was not the Top Man. It was colder, heavier, a voice that rumbled with contained power.
"You still live? It seems they've failed." A pause. "Do you think you've won? No. You've lost everything."
The voice was utterly confident. "I do not understand why you are coming after me, but thanks to you, I now rule New York."
The next words were delivered with chilling finality. "And I have your girl here with me. Chained like cattle. And I will skin her alive."
Silence. Adam kept the phone to his ear, one hand on the wheel, his single good eye staring out at the dark, trash-strewn streets of Hell's Kitchen.
The distant pops of gunfire and drunken yells were the neighborhood's lullaby. She had failed.
[Uh oh. The calm before the storm.]
[No way Domino loses? How?]
[I can only theorize that she hadn't lost, but is somehow winning still?]
The man on the other end of the line noted the quiet. "Has the cat got your tongue?"
Wilson Fisk's voice was a low rumble. "Did you think I was a fool? If I were in your shoes, I would also target my right hand. It was to be expected. James Wesley is under the strictest protection." A note of grudging admiration, then cold fury.
"But there was one thing I did not expect: you sent one person. Did you believe one woman could dismantle my army alone?"
"Well, good for you. Now I have your girl. I have the whole of the underworld. What did you think would happen? That killing a few of my men would matter? I can always hire more."
Fisk was gloating, but beneath the bravado was the raw anger of a man who had lost a prized asset in Bullseye.
[Fisk is PISSED.]
["I can always hire more." Yeah, someone as loyal as Bullseye doesn't just appear.]
[But he's somewhat right... Like, where is the nuclear option Adam's talked about?]
[It's cumming.]
[...]
Adam chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. "I am indeed surprised she failed. I hadn't expected that."
Internally, he mused. Domino's failure was a statistical anomaly given her power… unless her failure was itself a part of a more favorable probability.
"Failure is part of the game," He continued aloud. "I've accepted death. It's a great possibility in my pursuit of an incomprehensible goal."
"I targeted you simply because you were a convenient target. One I could not fail against. After all," His voice took on a theatrical lilt, "I am the main character of this show, and this isn't yet the Finalee."
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