"Alright, it's done here. The rest of the cleanup belongs to the Hand. Let's move. Your arm needs attention." Daniel's eyes dropped to the slash of blood running down Elektra's left arm.
She glanced at the graze like it was nothing. "It's not a big deal."
"Maybe not now, but give it fifteen minutes and you'll be dizzy from blood loss," Daniel replied flatly. He scanned the corpses of ninjas scattered across the ground, a subtle frown tugging at his lips.
Elektra ripped the red veil from her face and tied it around her wound, improvising a quick bandage. She knew exactly what that sharp look of his meant—blood was a dangerous trail. The Hand could smell it.
"If they track you back to your place, you're finished," Daniel said, his tone edged with quiet authority. "I'll take you home. I need to go over that ledger again anyway. Something about tonight doesn't add up."
Elektra's jaw tightened. She wanted to tell him she could take care of herself, but the truth was, Daniel wasn't someone you argued with. Even if she refused, he'd follow her anyway—erasing trails, covering tracks. It was who he was.
So she gave a slight nod. "Fine. Let's go."
Elektra had several bolt-holes across New York: a loft in midtown, a high-end penthouse funded by her Greek connections, and a handful of untraceable safehouses scattered through Hell's Kitchen. Tonight, she led Daniel to a small, unassuming apartment near the Greek Consulate—a place nobody would look for someone like her.
The apartment was all steel and stone. Only when she lit the fireplace did the room gain the faintest warmth.
While Daniel's gaze swept across the space—always scanning for threats—Elektra pulled out a medical kit.
The wound was bad. Too wide for a band-aid, bleeding too freely. She scowled at the thought of stitching herself up, but before she could try, Daniel was already taking the needle and thread from her hand.
"Let me. I've done this kind of work before," he said, kneeling down.
"Oh? Doctor, are you?" Her lips curved into a teasing smirk as she slid her arm out of her sleeveless top, baring smooth, toned skin.
Daniel didn't flinch. "Not a doctor. Just… experience. From experiments."
That word—experiments—made a chill run through her. Who exactly was this man?
Within minutes, he finished the stitches with cold precision.
"Done," he said, patting her arm lightly.
Elektra flexed it and smirked, though her thoughts were elsewhere. He was skilled, but there was something about his touch, something clinical, almost unnervingly detached.
"The ledger's here," Elektra said, tossing the worn book onto the coffee table.
"You check it. I need to think." Daniel remained standing, his eyes narrowing as he pieced together the night's events. Something wasn't right. The Hand's forces had been too… ordinary. No elites. No one strong enough to actually be a real threat.
It wasn't that they lacked numbers, there had been plenty of ninjas and gunmen, but they lacked the monsters. The Hand always had monsters.
"They were holding back," Daniel murmured, almost to himself. "Which means they wanted us to get this far."
Elektra's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Found it."
She tapped the ledger and said, "Roxxon's construction projects. Four sites moving massive amounts of dirt: a greenhouse hotel, a downtown tunnel expansion, an underground pipeline, and—" She paused, her eyes narrowing. "A huge construction site at 44th and 11th Avenue. Right in the heart of Hell's Kitchen."
Daniel's eyes sharpened. Hell's Kitchen was never just another neighborhood. If the Hand was digging there, something big was brewing.
Minutes later, they were moving fast through the night.
Hell's Kitchen was alive in its usual way—shadows, gangs, flickering neon lights, and the occasional figure hurrying home, desperate not to get noticed.
The construction site wasn't hard to spot. Half the road was barricaded with fencing and steel pipes, the skeletal frame of a new building rising like a black monolith against the skyline.
Daniel stopped a hundred meters away. "There's movement. At least two dozen outside. More inside."
Elektra followed his gaze. "Ordinary thugs?"
He nodded. "No guns. Too risky this close to midtown cops. But make no mistake, they're the Hand's pawns."
Elektra grinned and said, "Then let's see how quickly their pawns fall."