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[There's always a wrench in the machinery. There's always something to go wrong. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes, like tonight, everything goes as well as Oliver could possibly hope. There's no body count - minor injuries, sure, but nothing the victims won't recover from.
And there's several large caches of weapons that will find their way into the hands of the cops within the hour, thanks to a phone call placed by one one of the thugs held at arrow-point.
It's going swimmingly, which is exactly what has Oliver on edge as he makes the roof of the warehouse, half-way to an exit -
And there's the wrench. Upwards of a dozen more armed men waiting, pouring out of the shadows like he didn't feel the air on the rooftop change when they started to move.
The first two are down before they have a chance to raise their weapons.
Lower the body count. Diggle keeps getting after him to lower the body count.
Oliver grits his teeth and ducks out of the line of fire, using the same shadows to get behind two others, stupidly close together. He looses an arrow between them, killing a third man and getting the two armed idiots to turn on each other and open fire.
He didn't kill them. They did it themselves.
Wrench half-way extracted.]
And there's several large caches of weapons that will find their way into the hands of the cops within the hour, thanks to a phone call placed by one one of the thugs held at arrow-point.
It's going swimmingly, which is exactly what has Oliver on edge as he makes the roof of the warehouse, half-way to an exit -
And there's the wrench. Upwards of a dozen more armed men waiting, pouring out of the shadows like he didn't feel the air on the rooftop change when they started to move.
The first two are down before they have a chance to raise their weapons.
Lower the body count. Diggle keeps getting after him to lower the body count.
Oliver grits his teeth and ducks out of the line of fire, using the same shadows to get behind two others, stupidly close together. He looses an arrow between them, killing a third man and getting the two armed idiots to turn on each other and open fire.
He didn't kill them. They did it themselves.
Wrench half-way extracted.]
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And suddenly she's not on a dark sidewalk but a rooftop.
What the actual fuck is about all she has time to think before a startled armed man is turning toward her. She doesn't even have time to think about what she's doing before she takes her three-ring binder and brings the sharp edge down on him, aiming for a nerve that will make him drop the gun he was swinging up at her.
...It occurs to her belatedly that she probably should have just gone for duck and cover.]
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It's only a half-second pause, enough to note her appearance and the fact that her attack is pointed and skilled, and that she's attacking his opponents. Then he's hitting the roof to avoid a blast of machine gun fire and returning a volley of his own from the ground, slicing through his attacker's hand and making him drop the gun.
Oliver rolls to his feet, raises the bow, and puts two in the girl's disarmed thug, neither fatal if treated properly.] Get down!
[IT'S NOT A BATMAN GROWL BUT HE TRIES, OKAY? ]
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Arrows.
Exceptionally aimed arrows, even. Why and how does this kind of thing keep happening to her? She quit! And she has a paper to write!]
What the Hell?
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He could just leave. Take her and go. But he can hear sirens approaching and he won't let two killers with semi-automatics take on the Starling City police while the latter are unawares.
He keeps his voice low and rough and as far from normal as possible. How she got here can come later, once they're clear of the mess. He's not sure what to think, except that her appearance is bizarre and convenient and is throwing him off, which could be exactly what's intended] When I tell you to run, you head for the edge of the roof. Understood?
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Although as he comes closer, she realizes he's not really Green Arrow--his voice is wrong, and his suit is different, and okay really now, how many Green Arrows do they need? Weren't two enough? Couldn't this guy at least pick a different color? He might fool the average lackey or mediocre villain, but nobody else was going to think he was the real deal.
She doesn't really have time to do much more than think that before he's giving her orders. Ordinarily, she might question that, but she is a civilian and, well. Guns. Guns kind of suck. So she just glances at him with raised eyebrows.] Sure. Got it. And then what?
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He stands and pulls one of the trick arrows he's been experimenting with from his quiver, one of three he brought along. The arrow arcs upward and then down into the enemy's hiding place, the tube attached springing open on impact and pouring tear gas into the air.
A soon as the men stagger upright, coughing, he zeroes in on the sound and takes them both out.
The sirens are a lot closer now. Oliver grits his teeth and pulls one of his grapplers. Quick run to the edge of the roof, braced against the rim - he looses high toward the next warehouse over, and the metal cord hisses out in the arrow's wake. He doesn't look at the girl, just grabs her around the waist, says] Don't scream.
[and jumps.
He has a hard time not smiling at this part. The freefall, the snap-jerk of the wire tensing and the pressure of the swing toward the ground. It's different with a passenger. A new kind of challenge. He has to adjust his weight, shift the way he'll fall, and it's probably going to bruise a rib or two but they'll be clear of the building and she'l hopefully be unharmed.
Oliver twists, holding his bow and the girl away from the ground and taking the impact somewhat gracelessly. Slamming down on his back and tumbling slightly, letting her go and letting himself skid to a halt.
Yep.
Ow.
That hurt.]
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...Trick arrows. Right. Of course.
Seriously, how did she wind up on a rooftop with the third Green Arrow.
She doesn't have time to think much more than that before he's grabbing her. She almost rolls her eyes when he tells her not to scream, but then he's jumping and all she can do is hang onto him.
And really wish Cassie and Kon with their powers of flight were here instead.
Or Tim, who knows how to land a jump like that, especially with a passenger. All the times she's done this, she can't ever remember a landing like this, being let go and tossed aside to roll to a stop. That was unpleasant.
She grunts, sitting up and groaning when she realizes that somewhere along the way, she lost her notebook with all of her notes for her essay. She pushes herself to her feet and brushes off her jeans, shooting a Look at the--what is that, a hood?--hooded man.]
You have seriously not been doing this very long, have you?
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And makes no sense. No more sense than her appearing on the rooftop in the middle of a firefight.
Back on his feet, quick self-check for injuries.] Who are you?
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Green Arrow. It's certainly a better name than The Hood. There's something going on here that he has no context for, something she assumes is common knowledge.] What were you doing on that roof? Who's Green Arrow?
[Last chance for questions before he'll need to move.]
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There are two Green Arrows. They're... kind of famous heroes. And--I don't know. I was walking from the library to my dorm, I turned a corner and--there I was, on that roof.
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He glances at the corner of the warehouse and gestures toward the shadows of the alley.] Come with me.
[He brushes the com tucked into his ear.] D. Come in. We have a problem.
[The bike in the shadows is green. It's not a color that had any particular significance to him, except. Well. Now he's wondering if there accidentally is significance.]
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And she is preconditioned to trust masked vigilantes, or at least to listen to them. So she follows him into the shadows, well aware of how stupid it might be.]
...Okay, so where are you planning to take me?
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It takes just outside of fifteen minutes to reach the nearest of his safehouses. It's a basement apartment in a part of the Glades where no one asks questions or looks their neighbors in the eye. Though that's most of the Glades these days. He swings off the bike as Dig, wearing a mask and jacket identical to Oliver's own, takes over, streaking off into the night to bring the vehicle back to
the Batcavethe factory hideout. It happens in silence and in seconds.]Down here.
[The apartment itself is sparse, outfitted with the necessities and a few very well-hidden caches of arrows, should his main location become compromised. Rations in the kitchen, a cot in the opposite corner of the studio flat, a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in tucked to one side.
He can't stay here long. Or she can't. The longer they're in close quarters the more compromised Oliver's position becomes.] Where does Green Arrow operate?
[If there's someone else out there impersonating him - or if there's someone else out there with goals similar to his own - he needs to find out.]
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She looks at him, annoyed and confused. How does he not know that?]
Star City. In California. It's not exactly a secret. If it is, it's about as well kept as "Superman's in Metropolis" and "Batman's in Gotham". Now it's my turn to ask some questions, like who are you? And where are we?
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[Superman, Batman, Green Arrow. None of them names he knows. Metropolis and Gotham, though. Those names he recognizes. Something is off here. Definitely and extremely off, and she seems too... level-headed for the off thing to be her mental state.
Not that he's the best judge of mental stability.]
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...Which, in retrospect and in light of this revelation, may have been extraordinarily stupid of her.]
...There's no such place as Starling City. Who are you? Seriously.
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He can't keep his voice from gentling. He might have become a much, much better liar, but he hasn't stopped caring about people or showing it, in his own small ways. Ways that most people he knows miss, because they aren't a part of the frat boy they lost at sea.
Half of Oliver's life these days can be summed up with How do you people.]
There is no Star City or Green Arrow. [A very vivid, complex delusion? God knows he thought he'd gone crazy on the island more than once. Bits of it are so close to right.] I've been to Metropolis and to Gotham. There is no Superman, or Batman.
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This... this is outside even her realm of experience.
Cissie shoves a hand into her hair and just... shakes her head. It's the best she can do right now. And there's really just one thing she can think of to say.]
...That's impossible, though. Green Arrow's my father.
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That's.
Different.
He doesn't know what to doooooooo. Except if this is a delusion, maybe the name of her father... isn't.]
What's his name? I can contact him.
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She shoves both hands through her hair and presses her mouth shut in a tight line. What if he's lying? If this is some trick to get information...]
You really are new at this. You don't just... ask people for someone's secret identity and expect a real answer.
[Except that then she pauses and considers, because... Ollie's ID isn't a secret. It hasn't been since he was Mayor of Star City. It's been public knowledge. Which means he should already know his name, unless... he's telling the truth. She clears her throat and shakes her head.]
Except that his name hasn't been a secret in years, so I guess it doesn't matter. Oliver Queen.
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Okay.
No one is going to believe this story anyway.
So.
--Diggle is going to kill him. Oliver isn't sure that he'd blame the man.
He draws the hood down, slowly, wondering again if this is all just an elaborate trap to force him into admitting his identity post-trial.] That's impossible.
[No way he has a daughter his own age.] I'm. That's. [It's like having Dig wake up in his hideout all over again. He has no idea what to do or say.
Hopefully she'll try to punch him, because that he can respond to easily.] I'm Oliver Queen.
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Cissie just kind of looks back at him blankly, because there's no way for her brain to comprehend this. There's no way he can be telling the truth, but she can't figure out why he'd lie either.]
That's--you can't be. You're only... You don't have a goatee.
[Yeah. Focus on the important things, Ciss.]
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Oliver moves to the fridge, keeping his distance, though he's not sure if he's doing that for himself or for her.] No. I don't. And I don't... have a daughter.
[He pulls one of the bottles of water from the fridge and nudges it over her way before claiming one for himself. All of what he says now is public knowledge - nothing to risk. Besides, there's something in her reaction that says she's not lying. At the very least she doesn't think she is.] My mother's name is Moira Queen. My father's name was Robert. He died five years ago. My sister is named Thea.
[Another bout of hesitance.] My friends call me Ollie.
[And drinking that water now, while he tries to keep himself from analyzing her features, looking for similarities. This is impossible. Utterly impossible.]
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THE NEXT DAY....
In the end, it's her stomach that drives her out of the room, in search of the kitchen. All she wants is maybe a bowl of cereal or some toast. And some coffee. Good God, does she want coffee.]