When she woke she knew it was the Hand. For starters she knew that because she felt no “chloroform hangover” meaning whatever they had sedated her with, that it was a professional job. Secondly, she knew that it was the Hand because they were back in the capital, she could tell by the smell and the sounds. She also knew it was them because she was sitting down, and actually quite comfortably. The room was clearly not meant for much more than what she was doing at the moment, but she knew there was no point in exploring it either. The Hand wanted to talk with her, if they wanted her dead she would be, and if they wanted her as prisoner they wouldn’t have left her like this.
The lone door in the room opened and a man walked in.
“Hello,” he said.
Isabel sat defiant in her silence.
“Or should I say, hello Elektra,” he said.
“My name is Isabel,” she said, “ and you know this, any other references to that other name and you might regret it.”
“Oh I see,” the man said, “but really it is your name.”
Isabel sat silent not willing to be goaded on by this man.
“Not at all curious?” he asked.
Isabel looked up at him at an odd angle so that hey eyes were barely visible beneath her forehead. “OK enlighten me?”
“Well you see my darling, your mother was one of us,” he said, “sent by the Hand to infiltrate the inner circle of a powerful man. Her name was not Elektra, that was her designation. Elektra is a code name given to specific agents that specialize in specific tasks … ”
“You’re a liar,” she said.
Without breaking stride the man continued, “specific tasks like seduction, only your mother wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. I guess when she had you she had to reconsider her life choices. Women have a tendency to do that I have noticed, sacrifice all for the love of a child.”
Isabel was still not believing him but was offended nonetheless just by the concept, “So you murdered her?”
“She chose to end her own life when she found out that we would recruit you,” he explained, “so really it is your fault she is dead.”
“It is your fault then the bloody nose you will receive for talking about her like this,” she said.
“I must say I know enough about you to be threatened,” he said, “but either way you owe us an Elektra, and we would like you to join us.”
Isabel actually laughed at his suggestion, unable to venture more of a comeback. The man looked bothered by her insolence, but pressed on.
“So tell me Elektra, what were you doing at this monastery?” he asked, “the only thing we found of interest was this dais, and it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary piece of rock. What were you searching for there?”
“Just so as you know, I am remembering the times you mention that name, and saving a special moment for you for each time,” she said.
“Is that so Elektra?” he asked.
“That’s four,” she said, “and there was nothing there, it was my idea of a beach holiday.”
“Your friends were quite resilient,” he said, “none of them even begged for their lives.”
Isabel didn’t doubt that this was true, she was sure that all of them were dead, but she would not shed any emotion for them now. She would not give this man the satisfaction.
“I shall add their names to the payback as well then,” she said.
“So you journeyed for four weeks through the jungle for nothing?” he asked.
“Let’s just say nothing of value to the Hand,” she replied.
“We find many things to be valuable, Elektra,” he replied and left.
She waited a few more minutes when the man returned, this time with another man, who appeared to be a superior.
The other man spoke, “You may go, consider our offer to join us, we have more power than most people will ever comprehend.”
“Ok whatever,” Isabel said.
She stood up and walked to the door. She paused for a moment to get her bearing, she was wearing cargo pants apparently supplied by her captors. She could feel her journal in one pocket, and her wallet in another. She was sure they had left her with a passport as well, but nothing else. When she was sure what she had she turned to look briefly at the new man, before turning quickly and deliver a punch to the first man that had been there. She felt the satisfying feeling of his nose crunching under the weight of her fist. She had likely broken it.
“That’s one,” she said, “I figure I owe you 30 or so more,” she said.
He stood up ready to hit her. “Ulysses!” the superior yelled. Ulysses looked at him and stood down.
“You are lucky he is here,” Ulysses said, “or else this would have ended differently.”
Isabel looked back at him, “and you are unlucky he is here, because now I know your name.”
She gathered her belongings and walked on to the street and felt the heat, she looked back at the safehouse, it was like any other and served no point in remembering it. It would not be used again. Isabel knew something else though that her connection to the commune was not gone as long as she stayed here. She looked down the street and swore she saw Akela standing there among others. She was sad for her friends, but she knew they were not really gone. She thus made her way back to a hotel she trusted where she could make arrangements for the long trip back to New York.
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