Arrow

by Marc Guggenheim

* * *

  The bodybuilder she had chased caught her coming around the corner of the shower. He had pulled down one of the shower curtains and used it like a net, tangling her in it.

  Before she could fight her way free he slung her around, lifting her off her feet, and threw her into the tile in a hard, bruising bounce and skitter. She rolled to a stop, the air knocked out of her and her head ringing. Something tangled in her hair and pain fired across her scalp as she was dragged up from the floor and lifted. The blinding curtain fell away and she found herself in the grip of the man she’d been chasing.

  “Say, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” His voice echoed off the tile in the shower room. She threw her elbow up, aiming for his face, but her actions were slowed by the lack of oxygen in her lungs. He moved quickly for someone so muscle-bound, and a hand the size of a chuck roast caught her elbow, blocking her strike.

  That same hand lashed out, slapping her across the face. It was like being hit with a two-by-four.

  “Put her down!”

  She blinked through the stunning pain and saw Spartan at the shower entrance. Relief rushed through her. Diggle would put this guy down with a single shot.

  “Not a chance.” The bodybuilder shook her. “I think she’s the reason you’ll let me go.”

  “You’re not getting away,” Spartan said.

  Pull your gun, she screamed in her head, pushing the thought at her teammate. Shoot him!

  The bodybuilder shrugged, his free hand moving up. “Then I should just snap her neck so I don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

  “Don’t do that!” Spartan bellowed the words. They, too, echoed around the shower room. Black Canary grabbed the rising arm, pushing down to keep it off her throat.

  Shoot him shoot him shoot him, her brain screamed.

  The bodybuilder smiled. “You aren’t strong enough to fight me off.” He jerked his arm free and shoved it toward her throat.

  She sucked in a gulp of air.

  And screamed.

  The cry ripped out of her, blasting him across the face. He snapped back, dropping her. She let loose, and her canary cry hit the tile in the room, echoing, doubling back on itself, and building. The sound waves crashing through the air lifted her hair like a wind. Blood shot from the bodybuilder’s ears, spilling onto his shoulders, staining the straps of his tank top.

  Then she dropped to her knees, out of oxygen, the dark room lit in her eyes with white sparks. She pitched forward, falling toward unconsciousness. Arms grabbed her, keeping her from striking the cold tile. Just before she slipped into the oncoming dark she heard him speak.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  * * *

  The night breeze was cool on his skin, but it made the blood on his arm dry until it felt like sticky dust. The binding had stopped the bleeding right away. Now his arm throbbed, each pulse pushing just a few red drops from each of the two small holes. Through and through. Always the best kind of wound. He’d have Felicity wash it and pack it with antibiotics, and he’d be fine.

  White Canary walked through the one open door. The rest were still shuttered.

  “Bad guys all strung together a safe distance away, with a pile of evidence in their pockets. SCPD should find them without a problem.”

  He nodded and pulled a red arrow from his quiver. Laying it across the bow he aimed at the open door of the drug lab, and let fly.

  The arrow arced across the lot. Midway to its destination it sparked and a long thin flame curled out from the broad head, swirling in the air stream, wrapping the shaft of the projectile.

  It disappeared through the open door.

  Only a few seconds passed before the first barrel of chemicals exploded.

  In less than a minute the entire drug lab had become a chemical-fire inferno.

  5

  “Hey.”

  Felicity started, jumping in her chair at the voice from behind her. She turned to find Oliver on the platform. Reaching over, she turned down the volume of the music she had blaring from the Bunker’s speakers.

  “I didn’t know you were behind me,” she said. “Why didn’t I know you were behind me? You should have tripped the sensors I installed to let me know when someone’s coming.”

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His mouth quirked up even as he said it.

  “That’s just not true,” she said.

  “No, it’s not, but only to test our system. That’s why I avoided your sensors. You should upgrade, because if I can get past them then someone else can, too.”

  Felicity shook her head, making her ponytail bounce. “There aren’t that many people we know of who could get past those sensors. Not everyone has League of Assassin training like you do.”

  “I do.” A voice came from across the room. Felicity turned to find Sara Lance standing there, grinning at her.

  “Did you two plan this?”

  “No, but it’s a good illustration.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Is anyone else coming?”

  “Diggle said he was stopping by,” Oliver said. “But before we drop the issue at hand…” He raised his finger, beginning to count off. “Malcolm, Nyssa, a whole league left behind who could want revenge, actually, a lot of people we know have League of Assassin training, or the equivalent.”

  “Plus,” Diggle said, entering the room, “there are always new people popping up who could. Chase did.”

  Felicity looked from one person to the next. “Did I hit ‘send’ to the wrong people? I only meant to message Oliver.”

  “You sent a message?” Oliver asked.

  “Yeah, I just texted it. I thought that’s why you were here. Not to scare me straight, or force me to buy an upgraded security system.”

  Oliver pulled his phone out, and peered at the screen.

  Found Cross

  He slipped it back into his pocket.

  “Got it.”

  “So I see,” she replied. “He’s on his yacht.”

  “I would have thought that after we shut down so much of his operation, he would have fled the country,” Diggle said.

  “He has too much business to go too far.” Felicity shook her head. “But he should have. Curtis found connections that tie him to the drug business in Star City, enough to put him away for decades. Once we deliver him and the evidence we have, no more problem.”

  “Where is his yacht?” Oliver asked.

  “It’s out in the water—no, duh—not far off shore. I have the specs pulled up.” She slid over. Oliver stood behind her shoulder looking down at the computer monitor. Both of them kept their eyes forward. Nevertheless, it was obvious how distracting the nearness was for the two of them.

  Sara and Diggle shared a smirk.

  “Comparatively, it’s a fairly small yacht.”

  “Why, Mr. Cross, your yacht is practically tiny,” Felicity mocked.

  Oliver straightened. “I don’t think this needs the full team. No need to call in everyone. Better to do this with two or three operatives.” He looked pointedly at Diggle and Sara.

  Sara immediately stepped forward. “Count me in.”

  Diggle looked down and shook his head. “Lyla needs me to take care of John tonight. I have to pass.”

  Oliver moved over and put his hand on Diggle’s shoulder. “I understand. Go, take care of your family.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “John, brother,” Oliver’s voice became stern, “family is the most important thing in this world. Go.”

  “Thanks,” Diggle said. “I appreciate it.” He turned and walked away without looking back. In a moment he was gone.

  “Dinah has SCPD duty tonight. Do we know if Rene is available?” Felicity asked. “Do you want me to call him? Or Curtis?”

  Oliver looked down at the yacht schematics on the screen, then up at Sara. She gave him a cocksure grin. He thought back to the Skulls on the car carrier, and taking down Cross’s drug lab.

  “Sara and I can handle it,” he sa
id. “No need to call anyone else in. We’ll go tonight.”

  * * *

  Dark water lapped the sides of the yacht as it rocked slightly up and down. Green Arrow pulled himself up and over the railing, landing lightly on the open foredeck. He crouched in the shadow of the lifeboat that dangled where he’d chosen to climb up, knowing it would provide some cover. From there he scanned the area around him. A small pool and hot tub sat in the middle of the deck, surrounded by deck chairs that were bolted in place. The deck was clear of people.

  He turned, reaching down. White Canary grabbed his wrist and he pulled her up beside him.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  “You circle the main deck, head to the bridge, and put down anyone you find along the way. I’m going below decks to find Cross.”

  She shook her head. “That’s a dumb plan.”

  “What would you suggest?”

  “We stay together, clear the upper decks, incapacitate the ship, then together we go after Cross. You know he’ll have some kind of security, and the two of us would do better than the one of you.”

  He considered her plan. It was indeed the better way. He let the logic of it sit with him and cool his desire to take down Cross as soon as possible.

  Before he could tell her so, something caught his eye out on the water. Pulling a small telescope from his belt, he raised it to his eye, and cursed under his breath at what he saw.

  It was a military-grade rubber boat, far out on the water but headed toward the yacht, piloted by a man in a hood.

  “What is it?” White Canary asked.

  He handed over the telescope.

  She looked out for a moment then turned and said, “I’ll give your copycat this, he’s got good info, and big balls.”

  “The last thing we need is him interfering.”

  “What are you going to do about it? He’s coming this way.”

  Green Arrow watched the boat on the water, tracking it. It was far out, barely close enough to see with the naked eye. He stepped back and drew an arrow from his quiver. Laying it across the bow he took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air. His mind slipped sideways, unlocking itself and disengaging with the higher functions that ruled it. He dropped into the Zen of being an archer. Feeling a light breeze on his face, coming from the right. Tasting the concentration of salt on it and considering how that would affect the density of the air itself.

  He became one with the rocking of the boat on which he stood, one with the water underneath it, his bodily rhythms syncing until he breathed in unison with the motion, and his heart beat in time to it. He drew the bow, feeling even the moisture that micro-beaded along his bowstring. His brain worked, synapses firing, calculating without math, the addition and subtraction of instinct, the physics of spirit.

  All in an instant.

  He tilted, aiming the arrow at the moon.

  His eyelids parted, focusing on the oncoming boat.

  Oliver’s body moved, ever so slightly, adjusting the most minute of angles and lines.

  The boat lifted, then dropped.

  He let the arrow fly.

  It arced high, cutting through the salt air. It reached its apex and tilted, angling down, accelerating until it was more than just an arrow, more than just a projectile, it was a streak of his will. It hit the raft like lightning, cutting through the rubber as if it didn’t exist, passing through to the water and disappearing into the depths.

  White Canary watched through the telescope, suppressing a chuckle as Hallsey scrambled in his rapidly deflating raft, cutting his small engine as the rubber folded on itself. He ungracefully tumbled over the side, into the water.

  “Hell of a shot.” She handed the telescope back to him.

  * * *

  They crouched outside the ship’s bridge. Inside were two men enjoying their conversation. They laughed loudly enough to be heard even through the closed steel and glass door. Green Arrow put his hand on the handle, waiting for the laughter to reach a crescendo before pulling the door open and stepping aside so White Canary could move past him.

  The two men jumped up, laughter ending in one quick moment as if it had been cut off with a knife. White Canary crossed the room, pivoted and spun into a high sweeping kick that took one man down to the floor. She immediately lashed out again, hitting the other man in the face, flipping him back over the chair he had sat in.

  Green Arrow stepped into the room.

  Sara blew a lock of hair out of her face and grinned over her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said, holding up a pair of zip ties. “I got this.”

  The two men didn’t get up.

  Green Arrow nodded and touched his comms link. “Overwatch, we’re on the bridge. How do I disable the ship?”

  “You should be looking at a wide bank of instruments, the gaugey kind, not musical,” Felicity responded.

  He didn’t smile at her humor but he felt it in the corners of his mouth.

  “I am.”

  “Okay, to your left you should see a silver key below a T handle.”

  A large ring of keys lay on the console, one of them inserted in an ignition.

  “Got it,” he said.

  “That’s it. Without that key the ship is going nowhere.”

  As White Canary stood, he pulled the key, taking the entire bunch. He nodded and they went back out the door. On the way down the steel staircase he tossed the ring of keys over the rail and into the water. It hit the surface with a faint wet plop.

  They moved to the door that led below decks. Light spilled from beneath it. Green Arrow slung his bow over his shoulder. Down there it would be tight spaces, small confines. No room for archery. This would be close-quarters combat, fists and feet, knees and elbows. He was glad he’d chosen White Canary for backup.

  Quietly throwing the door open, he stepped in.

  He was on a short, narrow stairwell that split left and right at its end. Music and laughter came from below. Moving silently, he stepped down, Sara right behind him.

  At the bottom the noise came from the passageway to the left. Contrary to what they had joked, it was a roomy hall, the yacht built for luxury, not compactness. Here in the living quarters everything was carpet and polished wood accents. At the end of the passage there was a wooden door.

  Through it they heard the music and a high, giggly laugh.

  Green Arrow leaned back and took down the door with one solid kick that splintered the jamb. The door crashed open and he was inside the room.

  To the right were a low couch and table. The couch contained Cross, wearing only a pair of slacks, his chest bare, and two young girls wearing less. The table contained a string of multicolored pills and a pile of white powder cut into long lines.

  To the left of the room, sitting at the small bar, were two sides of beef acting as bodyguards. The farthest one jumped off the stool, reaching to his waist for the small snub-nosed pistol tucked there. Green Arrow closed the distance in four steps, knocking the pistol out of the man’s hand with a sharp back-fist. The weapon flew to the rear of the bar, smashing bottles of expensive whiskey that lined the wall. The archer gave two hard strikes to the bodyguard’s throat, feeling the pop of the man’s trachea under his hand. The man’s face went purple and he lurched forward. Green Arrow sidestepped as the bodyguard fell to the carpet and vomited the contents of his stomach.

  Arrow turned to find White Canary flipping the other bodyguard in a brutal hip toss that slammed him to the carpet. She had it covered.

  He looked for Cross.

  The man was gone.

  Only the two girls remained, clutching each other with looks of terror on their faces. One of them, a redhead, was crying, her face a wad of tears and fear.

  “Where is he?” He loomed over them, knowing he was frightening them even more, but needing the information as quickly as possible before Cross escaped.

  In the back of his mind, he remembered Hallsey.

  The one with the short brunette bob pointed
across the room. He looked and saw, beside the flat-screen television, a crack in the wall, a hidden sliding hatch. In his haste to escape, Cross hadn’t pulled it completely closed.

  Reaching the far side of the room, he jerked open the hatch and was gone in an instant.

  * * *

  White Canary looked down at the weeping girls. Her heart hurt, just a touch, as little as she could allow. She had been one of these girls, once, wild for her own reasons, in situations that started fun and wrong and even illicit, but went horribly upside down without any warning.

  “How old are you two?” She shook her head. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Get dressed and get out. Wait on the deck up top and go with the police when they arrive.”

  The brunette nodded vigorously.

  White Canary moved to follow Green Arrow. At the passage she stopped, turned, and spoke.

  “Say no to drugs from now on.”

  She grimaced as soon as she said it, then kept going.

  * * *

  The passage cut through the hull of the ship. He could hear the water against the sides, mere inches away. The stairs went up, and then down, twisting as they did. Cross was close enough he could hear him, but far enough that he never got a clear shot.

  The footsteps ahead went silent.

  Two turns later he ran out onto the rear deck. His target was a short distance ahead. He drew an arrow across his bow and yelled, “Hands up!”

  Cross stopped running and raised his hands. Slowly he turned, shuffling bare feet on the wooden deck.

  “Ah, the vigilante. I assume you’re the one who’s been causing me all the trouble recently.” Adopting an air of calm, Cross put his hands behind his head and lowered himself to his knees. Green Arrow relaxed his draw.

  “It’s over, Cross. You’re done in Star City.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a chance of coming to some financial agreement over this?”

  “You can’t buy your way free of this.”

  Cross laughed. “From the first time I went to jail to the last time I went, I’ve bought my way free. I don’t see how this will be any different.”

  Green Arrow said nothing.

  Cross sighed. “Let’s get this part over with, so I can have my lawyers working on getting me cleared of this. I can’t imagine it will be too difficult. Since you were the one who caught me I doubt you have any evidence.”