The streets of Gotham City at night are unlike anywhere else in the world.  The atmosphere feels like India ink; no blacker still.  Buildings that once seemed so flawless and tall turn into high rise gravestones.  Every crack in the sidewalk, feels like its own pit, deep into the very bowels of the earth.  Everything you see looks like a shadow. Shadows not even the strongest street lamp can rid. 

    But there is brightness in Gotham..  You have to look past the alleyways of broken glass; past the hundreds of homeless sharing a pint of old turkey; and definitely past the thugs who run through broken shop windows with widescreen televisions.  But it’s there, draped in the very shadows of its city, its face covered by the cowl of a bat.  Even in these days when it utters not a single word—IT is there.  Even if some nights it doesn’t seem so bright-- IT is out there; the guardian of Gotham City.

    “We don’t need to do this,” a singular voice called between the valleys of two rooftops. Moments after the flint of a blocked batarang rattled to the soaked street below.  The green clad youth leapt back from the edge.  The motion caused by two more similar instruments of damage being thrown from the same spot the previous one had come from. 

    His back bowed, and he caught the roof with his hands only to do the process once more.  As his body performed the skillful handsprings; the batarangs cut into the cement roof, one after the other.  As he came into the third handspring he let his left hand catch the roof and stalled.  The emerald hood which was drawn over his head stayed steadfast over his skull showering his face with the same shadows of Gotham City. Even still his green eyes easily caught even the smallest shards of light.  Of course it was truly all you ever needed to see from this boy, to know who he was, and what he was about. Innocent eyes never lied.  “You aren’t even trying.”

    Green Arrow had hoped for a response. He had fought with the legendary Batman before, hell he considered Robin his friend.  He was expecting a warmer welcome than the battle that had started the moment he arrived in town.  Even a “This is my town” line would have been better than having bat shaped blades being thrown at him.

    Instead of a handshake however, he got movement instead.  The shadowed form of The Batman moved like lightening, striding to the lip of the rooftop and leaping, to the rooftop that the archer occupied.  The long pointed cape drew open sucking up any light, as the form cleared the alley and then some. It landed a few feet away from where Green Arrow was still stalled with one hand.

    As soon as the shadows moved from the masked form and drew a kick at his arm, he knew. He knew that either Batman had gone on a year long fasting, or this was not the same Batman he had shook hands with not so long ago.

    However, even with all the thoughts, Arrow did manage to push his body upwards to finish that final handspring.  His arm retracted to his torso only moments faster than the kick.  His feet clapped the wet ground, and Batman’s leg returned to the folds of the cape at almost the same time.  He had trained in the martial arts since he was a kid, and it could be said he was one of the few masters of our time.  But this female, she too was well trained.  And as the two opponents looked at each other, they knew it was like looking at night and day.  Soft forms verses hard forms—rock needs water and water needs rock.

    “Hmms,” the archer spoke, as the bat-clad girl turned away from his gaze.  Her right leg sprung to her side, as her waist twisted she angled her left arm for balance.  Her body spun instantly, flinging the heel of her foot toward her would be opponent.

    Arrow turned his torso to his left, his right hand pushed up from his waist, open palm catching the knee with just enough force to make it bend.  Batman retracted the foot, on instinct as not to trip.  The moment of panic was what Arrow used to come forward.  He crossed the foot divide between the two, only to see the blur of the Batman’s cape, followed by the blur of a knuckled fist.

    “Dang!” Green Arrow let out as he veered his neck and shoulders to his own right bringing up a forearm to parry the coming fist.  The first fist was easily blocked; it was the second that sent a palm thrown into his ribs which pushed him back-- a few feet- by force alone.

    Arrow coughed.  Phlegm mixed with blood fell in goblets from his capacious lips.  “You’re not a mute,” the boy said. His body rose back up, his right arm angled over his shoulders a few inches in front of him.  His left open palmed below his waist line—a crooked swan form. 

    The Bat girl nodded, she knew not of who this man was.  Only that he was costumed and in her city.  But more importantly that she could use her all against him and still be unsure she would survive.  She pushed herself forward, towards the defending boy.  He was older than her, trained longer, but he didn’t give what she did.  He still had a voice.  He still had a mind beyond martial arts.  He was just a normal boy, who was a lot more skilled that he ever should be.

    This Batman-girl, felt the killing envy course through her body as she threw two quick rising chops at the face and chest of the Green Arrow.  To her surprise his right arm angled downwards, to meet both her punches, parrying them with but a flip of his wrist like bojitzu without a pole arm.  She however did not stop.  She threw six more punches, chest, side, shoulder, arm, stomach… watching his quick parry.

    Arrow was more in comfort zone on the defense.  The soft arts he had spent his life studying were defensive forms.  Where there were offensive applications, they only were reversing what had already been dealt.

    Batman, went down low as the sixth jab was thrown, splitting her legs and catching the cold concrete, in a quick succession of motion.  With another draw of breath she twisted her hips and pushed her right heel hard into the Arrow’s knees.

    As soon as the archer felt the sudden pressure coming from the kick he leaned forward.  The strength of the tensed leg allowed his feet to leave the ground.  His left hand struck her leg with only his palm and used the momentum to push his body over her. 

    The Batman did not look to his flight.  She had been trained not to be focused on the apparent.  She turned her body around moments before the archer landed.  Her eyes watched through the full faced dark mask.  Her eyes took in his lithe stepping as he landed and his gentle rising, to full height.  Once again she moved in, lashing a hip kick towards Green Arrow’s stomach.  The archer shifted his weight to his back foot.  He lifted his right hand from his hip and brought up his palm batting the foot at the ankle.  His motion used force, something that a year ago he’d not have done for a simple kick.  The motion caused her torso to twist, her body moving sidewise for a split second. 

    Green Arrow moved in as she readjusted her stance.  He let his stance switch, sliding the balls of his forefoot.  His back foot left the ground as he moved with his hip, sending a horizontal round house towards her face.  Batman flipped her body moving with the grace of a dancer.  She landed four steps in front of the blond youth.

    Arrow took the steps forward, sending a palm to the square of her shoulder.  Her forearm zipped up in a blur blocking the strike.  Arrow used the momentum of her forceful block to twist to her backside.  The movement caught the caped crusader off guard, as the boy went low sliding a foot between her legs, bending his leg he circled right foot.  She tensed up her leg and stepped forward in attempt to bring his face inline with her shoulder.  However Arrow leaned back using her step to break her balance.  Her foot went high into the air, locked with Arrow’s.

    It was as she brought her foot up that the archer brought his elbow down onto her shoulder blade, his hand sliding down to circle her arm.  The new leverage caused them both to move toward the wet cement.  Though with all the strength he could muster between his back and chest he pushed himself over her.  Batgirl landed hard on her back, Green Arrow, landing softer on his feet.

    The pain awakened something in this batman-girl.  The sudden shift in weight and the obviously well made delivered shoulder grapple, made her suddenly angry.  Her eyes went wide, her body lifting up, in a single motion, one quick enough that not even Arrow’s eyes registered it.  Though as she stood there, in the rain, looking at the still squatting form of the archer she felt a smile creep over face.  She extended her left hand, as the sound of five slender blades detracted from the fingers of her gloves.

    Green Arrow looked up at her in shock.  His back legs had already tensed ready to do a tight roll if she had come to him, when suddenly she stopped.  Her head whipped up towards the sky.    The archer’s head also looked to the sky a few breaths later as he registered the sound of a helicopter’s engine, which was followed by a bright light, which engulfed the rooftop.

    “STAND DOWN BATMAN.  GREEN ARROW IS COMING WITH US.”

The Emerald Archer...


For a Cure
Green Arrow #12- October, Year 4 by Jae Lizhini


48 hours ago
Oakland, CA

Eddie Fyiers, scratched the thick moustache that called its home between his nose and upper lip.  His body leaned back into the plush crimson seat, which did its best to devour his body.  His bespectacled eyes however were trained on the young blond boy.  A boy whom stood ahead of his own seated position, the emerald eyes trained back at the former CIA agent, as though he held the answer to life, the Universe, and everything.

    “So it took me a while, Connor, but I found out a little bit more about this Macronics Labs.  It was quite a bit of work, as it seems someone really didn’t want this place found” Flyers mentioned to the boy, sitting up some as he spoke, his beefy arms digging into his legs.

    Connor Hawke nodded his head with every other word, an attempt to entice Eddie to continue at his own pace.  Of course deep in his head he wanted Eddie to just spit it out.  The quicker he could find the answers to save his mother’s life the sooner he could do just that.

    “It’s a small lab located just inside Gotham City. It’s a subsidiary of a small fishing company, if you can believe that with traces running all over the map.  I’ve got a map of Gotham and marked where you can find it.”

    Connor let a smile roll over his large lips, his eyes even narrowed to give more room for the stretching of his mouth.  “Eddie, thank you.  You have no idea what this means to me.”

    “Just be on your guard, kid.  Gotham City is a dangerous place, especially when you wear spandex.

    “Don’t worry about me Eddie, I’ll be fine.  It isn’t like I haven’t been there before.”
Gotham City, NY
Present.
   
The wind tossed and flipped the charcoal hair, of Mario Falcone as he took a step off the obsidian chopper. The vehicle hovered a few inches from the battered rooftop, melting into the inky night sky.  He took not a glance at the full masked version of Gotham’s Caped Crusader—and instead his gaze stayed clear on the bow-carrying boy.

    As Green Arrow expected, Batman did not utter a single word.  However she was also not so willing to give up her place hold on her combatant.  It took a series of well placed pushes before her body came free from his.  Her stealthy body rolled as he took the final open handed slap across her rock-hard abdomen. 

    The roll carried her into the opposite direction of Falcone, which followed by a series of backhanded flips, drenched her form with shadows.  Green Arrow slowly rose to his feet only moments after the flips had ended.  Silently he turned his head towards where she had disappeared.  And only to meet an invisible gaze, he knew was there.  It was a mutual understanding—they would meet again.

    “Mr. Queen,” announced a voice as smooth as cigar smoke.  The announcement caught Arrow off guard, both in its sound, as well as the vernacular.  The young hero turned his head back towards the figure who called his father’s name.  The Gotham fog seemed to roll over the Italian man, as his dress shoes clacked applause not only for him, but the two men who walked a few steps behind him.

    “Mr. Queen was my father,” the archer shouted back.  The eyes under the green mask, narrowed a bit, as a shiver shot across his shoulders.  He could feel independent muscles fidgeting under the thin spandex.  The bitter cold of the Gotham night didn’t bother him… but hearing his father’s surname truly gave him pause.

    “I know your father was Oliver Queen,” Falcone responded, his pace delivering him through the blanket of fog.  The silver tendrils of vapor slowly uncovered the blacks of the tailor made fedora and overcoat.  The deeply tanned olive skin the man wore proudly cinched up into bold creases as he smiled.  The mobster’s presentation allowed the whites of his teeth to catch whatever sense of illumination that separated Gotham’s shadows from its buildings.  “I was assuming you as his son would also be a Mr. Queen.”

    Under the shadows of the emerald hood, Connor Hawke also smiled, but for different reasons.  He was not sure how well his identity was covered.  He was however relatively new to the super hero business, so even with no mask he would still be a mystery to most of the world.  Just like this man was a mystery to him.  “Just call me Green Arrow,” Connor told the man who looked more like a Mafia’s Godfather from the films than someone who would be introducing themselves to a super-hero.

    “Green Arrow, okay,” the man spoke, his deep eyes staring right into Arrow’s.  The boy could feel the charisma radiating to his very being.  It was not what he said; it was how he said it.  Even the original Batman didn’t feel like this man did, it would have been unnerving if it wasn’t so pleasant.

    “Look, Mister… uh.”

    “Falcone, Mario Falcone.  I’m surprised the Batman, didn’t speak of me.  I mean the original one.  Not the mute girl you were groping.”

    “Well Mr. Falcone,” Arrow spoke adjusting his volume into a professional tone, “why are you here?  You do seem like a busy man, and I have things to do.”

    “Actually… Green Arrow… I’m here to offer you a deal.”

    The archer developed a sudden uneasy feeling in his stomach, which moved up his body in the span of a few breaths.  “A deal?”

    “I know why you are here. Your friend Flyers might be talented at a lot of things, but computers is not one of them.”

    Arrow’s heart beat thumped in his chest, as he looked at the man who for the second time tonight hit a nerve.  “Go on,” he finally said, releasing the pressure, out his nostrils.

    “Truly it was amazing he even found Macronics Labs.”  Falcone grinned, his eyes staring holes in the costumed hero.  It was evident that the man knew his Buddhist background, and was testing his resolve.  “But alas, we got the report of someone trying to find out information, and a few hours later you show up.”

    “So you own Macronics Labs?” 

    “Among many other things, and unlike Wayne, my reaches go far beyond the confines of this city.  My resources are larger than you can imagine, and if you play your cards right… I think this may be the start of a beautiful partnership.”

    “Look, Mr. Falcone, my mother may be dying.  I can’t afford to waste time listening to you brag.  Are you going to help me or not?”

    “My my...”  Falcone grinned... “I thought you monks were reserved.”  He covered his smile glancing to the large man to his right.  The dark haired man nodded his thick skull into the direction of his boss, sharing the same smile.  “But to answer your question, I will help you, but you will need to help me first.”

    Green Arrow looked at the man, his emerald eyes broadcasting his apathy towards the businessman.  “What exactly are you asking me to do?”

    “I’d rather we talk about it, somewhere more discreet,” Falcone offered, his hand finally extending to pat the costumed youth on the shoulder.  Much to his surprise, the boy was stouter that he would have hoped, and stung his palm.

    Green Arrow lowered his head, as the Italian gentleman herded him towards the black chopper.  It was easy to tell he was uneasy.  The young hero knew that he was stepping on grounds which would only end in bloodshed.  Perhaps he was looking at yet another test, to prove how unworthy he was to hold his Father’s candle, and the ways of a monk.
 The slender form of The Batman, watched with unwavering eyes, as the young boy in the green and brown costume was pushed on board the helicopter of Mario Falcone.  Part of her wanted to leap into action, and bring the boy to his senses.  He had been respectable, having an honor that she did not understand.  When they fought—she knew he was holding back.  He was a pacifist by nature, and perhaps just a little easy on her eyes.

    She didn’t act though, as Bruce had instructed her. She was to play his part… defend Gotham.  And in this instance Falcone had yet to tread in the way of illegal activities.  Even despite what he had done to her in the past, Batman stayed right where she was.  So she watched with sorrowful eyes as this Green Arrow, was led to the aircraft.  Her hands clenched into tight balls of fist as the chopper ascended.  Small slits of eyes stared at the helicopter, as it flew through the smoke-colored clouds disappearing like a wraith back to whatever black hole that Falcone had come from.

    “I’d not worry too much,” a voice called from behind her; a feminine voice with a hint of rasp, like a jazz singer from old New York.  “He’ll do the right thing.  He’s at least got that much of his father in him.”

    Batman turned her head sharply.  Her nimble frame brushed against the slate gray blower she had hid behind.  She brought up her left hand into an offensive stance with but a glance at the interloper.  The mystery guest was a figure with expertly styled blond hair, framing a face as flawless as still water, which smiled at her with dazzling white teeth. 

    The woman did not move from her position.  She sat perfectly still on her haunches. The fishnet covered legs almost all but covered to the knees by the loose hanging leather jacket.  “Look I don’t mean any trouble, honestly.  But if a Green Arrow is around, how the hell could the Black Canary not peek in?”

    Batman looked at the woman with the unchanging contempt.  She was not sure why this Black Canary was mentioning all this to her.  She had heard the name before... Black Canary.  She was one of the Birds of Prey, and formerly a member of the JLA.  But what was her connection to that kid?

    “Look, Oracle told me about you.  I know you can’t speak.  But you should really stand down.”

    Batman let out an inaudible grunt, before she turned away from the woman.  She had other things to do tonight, than mess with the other heroes of Gotham City.  Her body slowly retreated back into the darkness. 

    Black Canary shook her head as she watched the new Batman retreat.  She barely registered the sounds of the girl’s footsteps.  Even more so, the way she moved, the way she responded… there was no denying that this girl could be trouble.  “Be careful Connor,” she whispered to the empty night.
Falcone’s Office
52nd block of Gotham City

Cloistered amongst the monolithic high-rise buildings and skyscrapers, the office building of Mario Falcone sat, easily missed from the busy 52nd block of Gotham City.  The small brown stone building rested easily under the looming shadows of the pristine buildings, obfuscating the dilated structure.  Deep grooves of an eroded paint job exposed the once sandy finish. The exterior coursed with fractures and cracks—stretching across its length.  The windows, which once could have been beautiful rows of glass, exist in between shutters of splintered lumber, the glass thick and warped, unable to properly guide the light—if it ever received such from the outside world.

    The inside of the building, on the other hand was another story.  Even the short jaunt through the sweeping hallway of crush velvet carpeting and lemon colored walls left Green Arrow at a loss for words. The simple walk led him through an extravagantly decorated hall. The pitched arch was filled with the masterworks of more 13th century painters than he could name, as well as the two large Minotaur sculptures that guarded the dark oak door. The door led the archer and Falcone to the lavished office of the mobster a few moments before.

    “Are you sure you won’t have a seat?” Falcone inquired, looking at the wispy youth from behind the finely crafted walnut burned desk.  The white etching that laced around the almond surface, tracing ivory into cursive patterns easily indicated its 18th century vintage.

    “I’m fine to stand,” Connor said as simply as he could, despite his drawn attention. The office had been decorated with its share of Italian antiques, mixed with a very modern flair.  His eyes tried to keep focus on the large bay window which lay inset into the beige painted walls, covered in thick crimson drapes.  Yet he couldn’t help but be drawn to the cherry wood bookshelf on the left wall, filled with volumes of century old books, most of which he assumed were first printings.  Nor could he keep from staring at the large bust of a bowing child that he swore was a Da Settignano original from the 15th century, which sat across from a large glass case that exposed the labels of various liquors he didn’t even pretend to recognize.

    “And I can’t get you anything?  A drink, a cigar, maybe a bite to eat?”

    “I’m fine Mr. Falcone.” 

    “You do make being a host rather difficult, kid.”  Falcone smiled.  “Okay, so straight to buisness, then?”

    “Please,” Green Arrow said in little more than a whispered plea.

    “Right right, delicate time table,” the Don, said with a smile curling over his ruby lips.  “A plane carrying some delicate material of mine, crashed in the rain forests near Brazil.  I need the cargo returned, in the utmost secreacy.”

    The archer’s face went slack.  His large lips drew down into a sharp frown, as he heard the words come Falcone’s lips.  A few seconds of silence elapsed between the two before he finally came to a response.  “Aren’t there better qualified people in your employ to do a retrieval mission?”

    “There are circumstances involved, son, that require a certain... flare.  One, which only a few people share.  You are one of those choice people.”

    “What circumstances are we talking about?”

    “For starters it’s a heavily guarded area.  It crash landed twenty miles from a well known outpost for a Brazillian mercenary group of the highest caliber.  Aside from the human threat, it is also a very rough terrain; we can only do a drop thirty miles north of the target area.  And need I mention the confidentiality regarding the materials we wish you to retrieve?  We need someone who is skilled at survival, able to go unseen, avoid the ecological as well as man made obstacles. Plus have the martial skills to fend off an estimated 200, of the most lethal killers of South America.  You fit the needs perfectly.”

    “I...I don’t know.  I help people in need, and you sir are not in need.  I am not an errand boy, especially in this obviously illegal fashion.”

    “Are you really willing to give up your mother’s life, because you think that I’m asking you to commit a crime?”  Falcone leaned in.  “I am asking you to do me a favor.  Retriving property that belongs to me.  And let me be frank kid, I’m also dropping you into an outpost filled with murderers, and terrorists who not only are wanted in several countries, but have there own country living in fear.  Once you get in there, if you want to play hero and take these guys down, well that’s your call.”
     
    Green Arrow took in a deep breath.  He knew deep down, that there was something fundamentally wrong with the situation.  No matter how Falcone worded it, he knew that there had to be a reason that the plane crash-landed near the outpost… it was something they wanted, and also something Falcone wanted.  Whatever this cargo was, it was bad news.  But how could he let this one chance to save his mother’s life fall out of his hands.  If she was not treated she’d die—truly he had no choice.  “Okay Mr. Falcone, I’m in.”
   
    A slender smile scared across the deeply tanned skin of the mobster.  “I’m glad you have come to the correct decision.”  He turned his head quickly to his left; looking at one of the large men who wore the same outfit as everyone else Green Arrow had seen in Falcone’s employ.  He nodded to the man gently, before he rolled his head back towards his guest.  “You will meet the rest of the team, at my private airstrip.”

    “Team?”  Green Arrow asked, his eyes widening at Falcone.

    “Yes.  I know most of you vigilante types prefer to work alone.  But for a mission of this type, a small team is most effective.  But don’t worry; Timothy will fill you in on all the particulars on your way to the airstrip.  Isn’t that right, Big Tim?”

    The large man who had resembled a statue for the duration of the meeting turned his large head towards Arrow.  The shadows from the derby hat levitated, as his head moved into an upward arc, exposing the pasty skin, and the gleaming blue eyes of the man.  “Yeah boss, we’ll go over everything nice and slow, so he understands.”

    Green Arrow tried his best to put on a smile through the stare of the large thug.  He nodded his head towards Big Tim, knowing that the Mafioso didn’t care about much of anything but the paycheck he’d be getting when he got back from his delivery.  “Then I suppose we should be leaving?”

    Timothy turned his mammoth gaze back to Falcone, as though he was not sure how to answer the question.  “Uh, yes,” the thug said as soon as he received the nod from his boss.
Falcone’s private airstrip
Gotham Harbor, Gotham City
Twenty minutes later.
   
Despite, promises of the latter the road trip from Falcone’s small brownstone to the airstrip was a quiet one.  Big Tim, as Timothy reminded Green Arrow to call him, was not the talkative sort, more inclined to serve a white knuckled grip on the burgundy steering wheel.  Perhaps it was nervousness.  However Arrow quickly noted that it was more than likely that Tim had issues saying a chain of more than a sentence at any one time.

    He did tell him about two members of the team.  There was a woman named Ferra, who was something of a hybrid clone, containing wolf, tiger, and human parts—and a man named Fortitude who had a reinforced skeleton.  The rest of the team was just some regular human agents.  Of course the meta-human members were quite a shock to the archer but he said nothing.  Instead he let his body be absorbed in the cushiony burgundy passenger seat, and let all of the day’s events recycle through his mind.  He deeply wished that Master Jansen was with him at the moment.  He could use his guidance, more at this moment than when he first entered the Ashram, as an angry and spoiled child.

    The black BMW rolled onto the airstrip, and slowed to a crawl.  The head lights flicked onto a high beam of violet… easily piercing through the dark night. The twin lanterns screened over the grayish plane that stood parked near the foot of the long strip, as well as the crowd of nine people who were crowded outside the plane, obviously waiting for the last minute delivery of the Archer.

    The gleaming car pulled to a full stop, within ten feet of the crowd.  The entire audience turned and looked at the sudden appearance.  The driver side door swung open, forcefully with the sound of a slight creak.  Big Tim took no time in pulling his large girth from the car, and taking his full height of 6’7” forward.  The giant stood looming over the luxury car, the synthetic bell ringing in a rapid loop announcing that a door was indeed ajar.

    The crowd sifted like a ripple as two bodies pushed apart the crowd of the men and women wearing the matching charcoal jumpsuits.  From the parting of the human pond, the two figures walked ahead of the others.  The first was a large woman, easily over six feet, with deeply tanned skin.  Her hair was long and ran free down her shoulders.  The red hair flowed across her large arms, which were exposed from the cut off black jumpsuit she wore, the zipper loosened a few inches to show off the tops of her cleavage line.

    The man that stood with her was close to her antithesis.  His dark close clipped hair was matted down to create almost a helmet of black; his porcelain skin almost glowed in the ultraviolet high beams, only taking a break to cover the neatly clipped goatee.  This man stood at a close to five foot stature. However the muscles he possessed seemed to push through his own tight jump suit.  “I take it you brought the missing link, Big Tim?”  Fortitude asked, his voice soft laced with a Midwestern accent.

    “I hope to god he did, or someone is going to be paying for waking me up at this fucking hour!” the red headed woman shouted her voice hoarse and deep, more like a roar than a human voice.

    “Yeah,” Big Tim said slowly.  His mammoth head turned towards the car, as though he was going to look through the slick vehicle.  “Kid taking your time or have a change of heart?”

    Three moments passed like Heinz ketchup, before the passenger door finally opened.  Slowly, the man of honor slowly rose from the seat.  His emerald hood had remained drawn, since his fight hours earlier.  The shade however reduced his entire face into a shadow.  The green and rust brown costume ran like a second skin across the archer’s body, showing every curve, contour and toned muscle.  In his left hand he held the wooden Chinese bow, in his right the rectangular double quiver.  “Yeah I’m here,” Green Arrow spoke, his voice echoing across the airstrip.

    “Green Arrow?”  Fortitude spoke, his voice going to an even higher pitch, “Not even the good one, but Junior.  You have got to be kidding me.”

    “The Boss said he’s the one.”

    “I think this should be fun,” Ferra said with a smile.  Her large caramel eyes took in the hero with a seductive gaze. “And don’t worry Fortitude, if Falcone thinks he has chops, then I don’t question it.  But if you want to leave, that means more money for me.”

    “I didn’t say I was gonna leave, Ferra.”

    “Then let’s go.”  Green Arrow spoke as he strode forward.  A grimace ran across his mouth.  He really didn’t want to have to deal with this, but if it meant his mother would live, then he was willing to deal with whomever his partners were going to turn out to be.
NEXT ISSUE:  The Green Cell kicks in, as Green Arrow, along with Ferra, Fortitude, and the team head off to South America, to find the wreck.
ARROW-MAIL


Okay, so I know you all are asking WTF is up with Batman, especially if you haven’t read Batman #24 (as of this writing it hasn’t come out yet)—and don’t know what has occurred in the series.  Well not to cause any spoilers, Bruce has put Cassandra Kain, into duty as a Batman, for a limited tenure, and she is the Batman that Connor meets with and fights… if it wasn’t that obvious.

Btw this is issue #12. I really never thought I’d stick around this long, especially considering that I’m not even starting to slow down with ideas yet (even if my actual span between issues has depleted).  So thank you for everyone who reads, and enjoys it, and makes doing this series so much fun.  If it wasn’t for the constant support I probably would have tired of all this by now.  So thanks, for making it so worthwhile.

-Jae Lizhini, August 2006

Story © 2006 Jae Lizhini and may not be reproduced without permission.