The room was almost pitch-black. Save for splinters of warm light which slipped through the gaps of the onyx Venetian blinds.  The blinds covered the large bay windows, set into the back most wall.  In front of the shuttered windows a silhouette sat.  He sat brooding over a dark, chocolate toned desk, the surface unveiled in rectangles, shimmering like copper.

    “Gotham City is falling around our ears,”  the silhouette spoke. His form hunched over the desk; splinters of light ate up lines of the shadows.  “The Batman is gone, yet still we continue to lose money.  Money my father had no trouble continuing to bring in.  Even with The Batman preying on his every move.”

    “But sir, this new Bat, its not like the old one… she’s ruthless.  She’s putting our men in the hospital left and right.  And our men… well those in the Drug bracket.  Well they are scared stiff.  With the Batman, we…we…”

    “ENOUGH!”  The voice of Mario Falcone echoed from dark wall to dark wall, shaking the unused lighting fixtures.  His head moved forward.  His face peered at the man; the shadows covered his body like a hood.  “I don’t care what it takes, hire bodyguards for them.  We have enough men on protection in the other projects.  Use some of them.  We can’t afford to lose this business!”

    “We’ll do that, sir.”  The man standing in front of the desk spoke.  His voice shook with fear, and his hands dug further into his pockets, clamping onto the meat of his thighs.

    It was as silence took over the room, that the double doors of the office crashed open, slamming brutally against the walls.  The opened portal flooded the room with brilliant light. 

    The form silhouetted at the doorway looked through the eyeholes of his slender emerald mask.  The brilliant green eyes stared directly at Falcone, as he walked across the office floor.  The shadows washed away, to expose the rust brown and green costume.  His foot falls echoed over the marble floor, as he advanced toward the desk

    “Falcone… here,”  Green Arrow spoke softly. He lifted his left arm, and slammed the over sized gray case in front of the mob boss.  The metallic box made a loud thud on the sturdy table.  Swarms of loose paper took to the air, fluttering to the dark floor.

    “So you actually did it,”  Falcone spoke. His brilliant eyes stared daggers at the still gaze of the Archer.

    “Make the call,”  Green Arrow growled.  “Make the call and save my mother’s life.”



The Emerald Archer...


The Hardest Decisions
Green Arrow #14- December, Year 4 by Jae Lizhini


    “I heard all that happened,”  Mario spoke, his rough voice rumbling through his throat.  The square shouldered mob boss slowly sat back in his large chair.  The tar black hair of the mobster--slicked back from temple to crown--glistened in the changing of the light.  “I couldn’t have done it better myself.  You’d make a good member of this organization.”

    Arrow tensed his hands.  The joints snapped like shouts in the boy’s ears.   He stood there staring at the grinning Falcone for the span of a full minute.  Perspiration glistened down his face.  The former monk repeated calming mantras in his mind, trying to force himself not to deck the man.  “I would have to honorably decline,”  he finally said gritting his teeth.

    “Well can I offer you a physician’s help?”  Falcone negotiated.  “I’m sure you’re injured after taking on Drakkon, and both of my Meta human, employees.”

    “Just make the call,”  Arrow repeated.  “Make the call, or so help me…”  He raised a clinched fist.

    Mario let a grin slide across his face.  He waved his hands in front of him.  “Your mother’s operation is already scheduled.  It should begin in just a few hours.”

    “Thank you,”  Green Arrow whispered.  His jaw tensed up, his lips felt dry; cracking.  He turned on his heels. The boy’s shoulder clipped with the man whom had not moved since Arrow walked in.  The man took a step to the side, pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose.  He continued to watch the spandex clad hero advance towards his exit.

    “Just go, Green Arrow.  Forget about what you did.  Your mother will be waiting,”  Mario yelled at the hero, his voice growing vindictive as the boy walked through the doors.

    Green Arrow made sure to slam the double doors as hard as he could on his way out.  He kept his head bowed, the shadows of the green hood that was raised over his brow brought those shadows across his face.  He didn’t want anyone to see the tears that slid down his cheeks.

    The hero walked down the illuminated hallway.  The high ceilings and long walls seemed to dwarf him in all measures.  His footsteps as light as they were, echoed like bell tolls off of the pure white walls.  However, Green Arrow did not think of the place he was in or the sounds of his feet on the white marble flooring.  Instead he could only think of his mother, and if he did the right thing.  Could he ever tell her what he sacrificed in order to save her life?

    He came to a stop and looked up at the steel door of the elevator.  He stared at his reflection.  His emerald mask was wet with his tears.  He let a smile spread across his face.  “Master Jansen, if you could only see me now,”  he spoke just as the electronic bell sounded announcing the arrival of the elevator.  The doors softly hissed open exposing the empty car.  The hero slowly stepped onto the elevator, just before the doors closed shut.

    Green Arrow stepped to the back of the elevator, shifting his weight against the plate glass mirror on the back wall.  The soft whisper of the elevator, descending levels gave him a level of peace as he closed his eyes momentarily.  He could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, riding in the small metal casket, sending him further down than he’d ever gone.  How could he just walk away?  How could he make a decision like he did?  Though he had no idea what was inside the case he returned, it was Mario Falcone.  He knew from Robin, that this man was not the sort who tended to win Nobel Peace prizes.

    As the elevator signaled the end of the descent, Arrow slowly opened his eyes, shifting his weight back to his feet.  The doors slid silently open.  Through the doorway, the grandiose lobby of the building exposed itself.  The archer strode through the elevator doors, stepping onto the burgundy carpet.  The great white walls and high ceiling were not unlike they were in the top level’s hallway.  The space however seemed to be situated for comfort and waiting, and a distinct smell of vanilla swarmed lightly throughout the area.  There were beautiful paintings in black metal frames sat over the walls, but most eyes would easily look to the cut-a-ways in the walls, lined with sofas and easy chairs, all of which matched the carpeting.  For a moment, Arrow thought about trying out one of the maculate, couches.  But instead he walked towards the door.

    As he leisurely walked towards the exit, his hand drew to his belt.  His nimble fingers unfastened the button on one of the many dark leather compartments.  Pulling out his cell phone, he flipped it open, dialing in a number he knew as well as his own heart.

    --Hey kid, what’s up?--  Fyiers spoke without the phone even ringing two full times.  His voice however was hoarse and groggy, as though he’d just been awoken from a deep sleep.

    “Eddie?”  the archer questioned, “I didn’t wake you did I?”

    --Don’t worry about it.  So how’s your mom?  Did you get everything straightened out?--

    “The operation should start in a few hours.” The boy sighed, and pushed open the glass doors of the building.  He held the door with one hand slipping into the outside world.  Gotham city had already begun to fade, its sunlight for the shadows it was known for. 

    --Well that’s good.  But something’s a matter.--

    “Hold on Eddie, I’m going to switch to the earpiece.”

    Mario Falcone sat back against the plump leather desk chair.  His weight buried into the chair’s back, leather squeaking in resistance to the girth.  He watched as his shaky assistant finally walked back through the large doors.  There was a soft echo, of pushed air shattering against firm walls, before silence resumed.  The room also returned to its natural darkened state.   Mario stretched his right arm out towards the small cell phone which rested on the right edge corner of the desk. He pressed a sequence of buttons on the phone and sat it down.  The phone rung loudly though the handset’s speaker.

    --Milo Armitage, here. -- the arms dealer spoke.

    “Mi fratello, Milo,”  Falcone spoke.  His lips curled into a smile.  His white teeth gleamed despite his body being cast into shadow once more.

    --Signore Falcone.--Milo spoke, his voice was shaky, and filled with terror.

    “Don’t worry Milo, I just saw your step son, and everything worked out beautifully.  He single handedly brought me the case.  Your plan worked splendidly.”

    --I’m glad to hear it, sir.  So then I can expect our partnership to continue?--

    “Well I wouldn’t count on everything going so smoothly just yet.  Green Arrow, I do not take as someone who will just let this thing lie.  He was fighting with himself not to shove me through a window even as we talked.  It would have been so much more rewarding; if I didn’t have so many feelings of doubt that he would just turn around and go back to California.”

    --What do you mean, Signore, I don’t think I understand.--

    “Well let me make it clearer for you.  We forced him to choose between doing the right thing, or saving his mother.  Though he loves his mother, he is also a hero, like his father.  And both sides are conflicting.  Even a blind man can see it.  If he decides now that perhaps he made the wrong decision, and wants to right his good decision, well then I will kill him.”

    Milo sighed into the phone.  His breathing became heavier and more rapid.  --I understand, Signore.  And if he can’t let things go as they are, you have every right to kill him.  If he turns on this decision, killing him will be understandable.  It would be the best thing for my marriage.  Moonday will mourn him, but in the end we will be closer.—

    “You miss understand me, Milo.”  Falcone grinned once more.  “Moonday just won’t be mourning Green Arrow.” Falcone chuckled to himself; stretching forward, to slowly press the disconnect button.

    The mob boss leaned back in his seat once more.  His eyes stared at the cell phone still open on the corner of his desk.  He brought his two hands towards his face, extending his digits against one another, forming a pyramid.  His mind wandered for only a moment, wondering why Milo was so supportive of bringing a hero into his plan.  There were enough, mercenaries that were expert survivalists, and martial fighters, that would have done the same thing that Arrow did.  He wondered if it was Milo’s desire to have a heir to his own enterprise.  Would it not be easier to birth an heir?

    He reached to his desk lifting the desk phone from its cradle, and bringing it to his ear.  He cinched his robust shoulder to keep the phone against his face as he freed his hand to rest on his large desk.

    --Yes Mista’ Falcone?--  The secretary answered.  Her voice was wispy and delicate, with a heavy Bronx accent.

    “Myra, I need constant monitoring on the Green Arrow until he leaves Gotham.”

    --I wouldn’t mind ‘monitoring’ him myself --
   
    “Please do not,”  Falcone spoke his voice teething with anger.

    --Sorry Mista’ Falcone, I’ll get someone on it.--
Above the streets:
Gotham City

    The night had fast approached the city of Gotham and a blanket of darkness was looming like the final curtain call of a stage production.  The night of this city always beckoned both excitement and fear.  It was the night when criminals made their way to the streets, and the newest dark knight descended on them, with fangs bared.

    It was however the dusk of this very night, that those transferring from their jobs to their homes did not see the dreaded wings and pointed ears of their famous protector.  No, instead they saw the blur of green flipping from rooftop to roof top.  Most of them stopped where they were and pointed at the figure. They recognized the colors and the bow, more so than the hero who filled them out.  Truth was that even though this Green Arrow had been to their city twice before, most of the citizens had no idea who he was.  They still assumed he was his father-- the whimsical debonair man of anarchy and Boxing Glove arrows.

    Green Arrow however paid any pointing and staring of little to no regard.  As the darkening city faded the slate colored rooftops he ran across into more dreadful and terrifying colors.  His foot falls came down hard, his toes bending to take in the full pressure of each jump to ignite his speed, leaving him needing every minute bit of energy to keep up his pace.  Of course this was mostly because the young hero had no idea where he was going, or more importantly what he was running from.

    “I dunno Eddie, something just doesn't feel right.”  He held his words as he lunged forward, at the end of a factory's roof top, only to touch down on yet another.  “He even had the nerve to ask me to join his gang.  As though he was taunting me at the crime I committed.  Ollie would never have done something like that.”

    --Well kid I ain’t there so I don't know what’s going on.-- Eddie Fyiers spoke, his rough voice sinking into Green Arrow's skull from an ear piece that cradled his left ear.  --All I can tell ya, is in my experience is, if it doesn't feel right it probably ain’t.  And if you try to ignore that little voice in your head it'll just eat ya up til ya do something about it.--

    “Yeah.”  Arrow spoke as he took another leap. His footing caught the very tip of a building and hung there for a moment.  He looked down at the city, and wondered if perhaps he did something that would hurt every person who stood below him.  Each person who's only crime was being in this very city.  The city they all loved.  “He said it all went down as planned, he knew my every move.  I think he's expecting me to go back.”

    --Mario Falcone does know his business kid.  He comes from generations of Mafia bosses.  He's been bred on crime.  But what exactly happened out there?--

    “The deal was-” Arrow lowered his voice to almost a whisper.  “The deal was that I along with a squad of his men was to pick up a package; sounded simple enough to me.”

    --But let me guess, everyone else wanted the loot for themselves and turned on you?--

    “Yeah, that's exactly what happened... How did you...”

    --I been at that game since before you were a gleam, kid.  Hell I pulled a stunt like that on Ollie once.  So you took em out, and picked up the package?--

    “Well there was one strange part to the whole deal.”

    --the other forces had an ace-in-the-hole?--

    “Yeah, a mercenary by the name of…Drakkon.”

    --Drakkon?  Are you sure, kid?  Short guy, fast as the devil... Greek?--

    “Yes, that sounds like him.  He was very skilled.  I thought I was not going to make it out alive.”

    --That’s big.  He's one of the heavy hitters of the criminal underground.  Its good you managed to make it out alive.--

    “Fighting him makes me want to train, get better.”

    --There's always someone better.  Fact of life.--

    “Martial Arts is a part of my life, but I mean really learn… How to do what HE did.”
 Below

    “I dunno what the boss is so worried about?” a heavy set man spoke. He turned his bespectacled face towards the thinner man who leaned forward in his seat, with a pair of binoculars glued to his face.

    “Well, a job is a job, Mickey, and the last thing we need to do is second guess the boss.  I dunno about you but I rather enjoy my life.”

    The two men sat in a dark blue van, which was cruising at much below average speed.  The interior of the van, had deep black paneling, the seats set off the beautifully ergonomic van, with deep scarlet tones.  Both of the men seemed very out of place in such immaculate surroundings.

    “Well, I hear that Blockbuster does his boys nice and Blüdhaven isn't that far away.  Could probably wing it without the bo--” Mickey’s plan however was abruptly cut off as the mustached Sonny swung his hand at his face.

    “Shh... I think our man has stopped.”  The thin man's hands gripped the light beige plastic of his binoculars with enough force for it to begin to crack and splinter. 

    “Well what’s he doing?”  Mickey asked, his neck stretching from his stained white polo shirt in attempt to get a peek at what his partner was seeing.

    “I dunno he's just paused.”

    “What he's just scratching his ass?  He's got to be up to something.”

    “No, no... He’s moving again.”

    “Well which way?

    “The same way he was.”

    “This is fucking ridiculous.”

    “Wait, I see now. He was pulling his bow from his shoulder... notched and arrow... wait, make that two… and...” his eyes grew in his head as the three arrows soared into a downward angle.

    “What?” the other asked, before his ears took in a loud ‘pop’.  His shoulder grated to his left, the cab tilting to the right.  The entire van crashed to the left, the weight crushing the unprotected left rims, which sent sparks across the street.

    Slowly the van crunched and sparked its way to the road’s shoulder.  The hazard lights blinking almost absurdly, as the car moved pathetically to clear the road.  Cars behind them slammed on their brakes.  Horns and shouts from disgruntled drivers filled what silence the two Mafioso men had created with a curtain of sheer frustration.

    “Too bad we only have one spare.”

    “Shut up.  Just shut the hell up.”


Falcone’s Office:
An hour later…

    Falcone sat in his empty office, still almost totally dark.  Even the former splinters of light from his blinds were absent in the ebony décor.  His heavily squared face was all that was illuminated. This was due to the glow of his computer monitor which his eyes stayed affixed to.  His eyes peeled at the video footage from a series of his surveillance cameras.  Each one, showed static images of empty hallways, and vacant offices.

    It was in the silence of his endless watching-- with his hard face staring at monitors he was ready to see light up with green life-- that his phone chirped abruptly.  The lines on his face eased up.  His tightly clamped jaw slacked smoothing the flare of his nose and cinches at the corners of his lips.

    His hand swiped across his desk.  His pudgy set of fingers pressed the connection button on his phone.  Magnified silence hissed into his ear, before his voice called out into his ear set.  “This better be important,” he grumbled.

    “Sorry to disrupt you sir, its just…” a high pitched voice called into his ear.
   
    “It’s just what?” Falcone asked, his voice edging on annoyance.

    “Well, I just chanced upon a tincture of information that you might be interested in.” 

    “Cut the crap, Calculator,”  the mob boss barked.

    “Right, sir, my apologies...  The information relates to your Emerald Ambassador.”

    “You have something on Green Arrow?”

    “Correct.  Interesting turn of events, I’ve discovered as a matter of fact.”

    “WHAT IS IT?”

    “Well, it seems our estimates of his abilities were well off the mark.”

    “I’m aware of that, Calculator.  I sent him against Constantine Drakkon, and he somehow won.”

    “Well, that’s quite the august feat. However I found out that several years ago, he went to an impasse with the legendary Lady Shiva.  More incredulous still was that a few months ago, he lambasted Sonar single handedly.”

    “Well, he survived in the fight with Shiva, but it was definitely not a stalemate.  I did hear of it though, yes.  This business with Sonar though, it appears I might have underestimated him.  It’s a good thing I always have a plan B.  Don’t you think?”

    “Yes, sir.”



    A few floors below Falcone’s office, a window had slowly moved upwards.  A silhouette leaned forward, and stretched a single gloved hand through the opening.  The dim overhead lights devoured the shadow exposing an emerald glove. An aerosol spray bottle was held by the glove’s fingers.  The spray bottle expelled, a cloud of vapor from its nozzle clouding the area on the floor of the window.  Slowly withdrawing the hand, Arrow pushed himself over the window sill.

    With his impressive muscle articulation, he bowed his back squeezing his feet through first letting his torso follow through, like a sleek missile. His half somersault easily cleared the uncovered lines of pink laser netting, which sat three inches above the floor.   His body retracted to a vertical position as he landed. The archer adjusted the weight of his body forward so he could land with his toes, reducing the clap on the linoleum floor.
   
    He took a deep breath when he landed.  --Don’t rest yet.  You just started kid. -- Eddie’s voice called in over his ear piece.  --'Course the hard part is done; we got the security systems pretty much on lockdown.  Aside from a few pieces we couldn’t get to.--

    “Like the lasers on the window.”  Arrow grimaced.  He lined his emerald spandex with his fingers, brushing away invisible dust.  He looked slowly from left to right. Then he walked carefully across the floor towards the far wall.  He laid flat against the wall, craning his head slowly around the corner.  Ahead he could see two guards coming down the hall.  They were but ten feet away.  “And the guard patrol… Did you actually do anything?”

    --Well, there are two about a minute away.--

    “Yeah, I got that one,” the archer whispered laying flat against the cold wall.  His ears registered the soft clapping of the security guards approach.  He stood in the shadows, watching as the light from the flashlight lanced through the dark halls.  His mind calculated the best way to take them both down.  One would be easy, but silencing two at the same time, well, he wasn’t a ninja like Batman.

    The head of the first guard emerged from the mouth of the hallway. Arrow extended two fingers from his left hand and brought it forward, turning on his heel.  His hand moved in a blur. The two fingers flashed towards the guard’s head.  The guard had barely time to notice the motion before the two fingers hit the side of his skull.  They impacted the guard’s solar plexus, with a sharp force. 

    Even before the first had fully realized he was supposed to be unconscious and fall to the floor, the second guard turned abruptly to see the hero drawing his hand back to his side.  Arrow shifted his weight to his left foot.  He slid behind the second guard.  The guard tried to turn as the archer moved into position.  Unfortunately, unlike super-heroes, guards didn’t have rigorous training exercises.  Arrow looped his right arm around the man’s beefy neck.  His left covering the man’s mouth and pushing the rotund guard’s back against his own chest. 

    The hero leaned over the man’s broad shoulder. His lips were only a breath away from the guard’s ear.  The stale smell of Old Spice, and tobacco was almost overbearing.  “Look, I know this is kind of scary.  But I just need to save some people.  You think you can help me out?”

    --Connor, do you want to sit down and have tea with the guy?--

    The hero ignored the voice in his ear, and tightened his grip on the man’s neck, forcing him towards the elevator.  He felt the guard’s beefy back sink into his chest as the man locked his knees.  “It doesn’t matter to me, sir.  I don’t want to hurt you, and then carry you to the elevator.  But I will, if I have to.”

    The guard took a step forward, striding slowly towards the elevator.  “Thank you, sir.” 

    --This is almost embarrassing.--

    Green Arrow groaned under his breath as guard led him down the hallway, both their feet moving like whispers across the floor. Coming to a stop at the elevator, the portly guard tried to turn his head to look at the hero.  The man’s deep set eyes looked almost pathetic as he turned to the boy.

    “Open the door to the elevator,” Green Arrow spoke, his voice rising to spike.

    --That’s more like it.-- Eddie spoke into his ear on the verge of laughing.

    The large security guard extended his almost gelatigenous arm towards the black covered panel next to the metallic set of doors.  He placed his thumb and index finger firmly on the panel.  The whirling of the scanning machine lightly permeated the air with a sense of suspense.  The loud tone that sounded seemed to make everyone's exhale (including Eddie, who exhaled loudly into Connor’s earpiece)

    Watching the twin doors slide open in front of him, Arrow removed his hand from the guard’s mouth.  The guard spun around faster than Arrow expected from such a body.  The surprisingly dexterous guard pulled the gun from his belt in a trained motion.  The guard flung the gun upwards in a haphazard uppercut, catching Arrow off guard.

    Green Arrow stepped back, when he registered the onyx blur rushing toward him.  The butt of the gun clipped his chin, swaying his neck brutally back.  He was dazed for only a moment, trying to clear his hand and resume a stance.  The guard had taken those few seconds to twist the metal and plastic weapon forward leveling it at the hero.  “Sorry… kid… nothing personal, but I got—“

    The guard didn’t get to finish his sentence.  With his plea to his conscience, Arrow took that moment to rock on his right hip, and swung a vicious kick horizontally across the space that divided them.  The rather soft Dawn Kick smashed into the guard's wrist with the precision of a master.  The gun went flying two feet before clanking onto the linoleum.

    “I don’t have time for this!”  Connor let out, a little louder than he should have.  As his foot came down, he used the momentum to continue his twisting motion rocking his hips forward and throwing a dagger fist at the man’s chest.  The three fingers impacted below the guard’s rib cage.  The strike brutally expelled the air from the man’s lungs with a surprising force.

    The hard hit caused the guard to smash violently into the wall.  The impact did little to impede his path to unconsciousness.  Arrow looked at the round guard, with a forlorn mouth.  The guard’s eyes shut tight.  The glasses he wore hung down from one ear, vertically lining his cheek.  What little hair he had on his head was greasy and almond brown.  Sitting there the man looked pitiable.

    The door began its closing, unoccupied.  Arrow shot his leg out from the side, his foot sliding between the narrow slit.  The elevator doors reopened in a soft hiss.  Turning from the guard, he walked into the elevator.

    “So… Eddie, where am I heading?”  Connor asked as the doors shut once more, closing the boy inside the small mirror lined box.

    --According to the blueprints here, the building has a very large basement level.  It looks more like a warehouse under there, and if I’m reading it right, its covered in reinforced steel.—

    “Secret basement headquarters.  Well it is Gotham I guess.”


    Eddie laughed, as he leaned back in his chair.  In the back of his mind he wondered if Batman intercepted all frequencies in Gotham and that if he would regret laughing and Connor’s gibe.

    It was as he straightened the thin wire frame glasses against his face that his computer screen flickered and suddenly went blank.  Then Kenny G simply vanished abruptly.  “Kid…You there?”  he asked, his rough voice transforming a few octaves of a higher pitch.

    --No he’s not.-- a much higher voice spoke into the line.  The mousy voice sounded like blood and oil, and Eddie felt like he could hear a nose twitching in the background.  Of course both players knew each other.

    “Calculator?  It’s been a long time since you’ve had your hand in any pies.  What is this about? “

    --Has it really been that long, Ironhorse?  But no matter; I’m just here to clip your birdling’s wings.--


    “Eddie?  Eddie?”  Green Arrow called into his ear piece just as the elevator door opened.  In front of the door was a blanket of darkness.  The light of the elevator bled out giving light to the first few inches, exposing the concrete floor.  But the rest was completely dark.  “I guess I’m on my own.” 

    The hero stepped off the elevator, the doors sliding in a soft hiss, leaving the young archer completely cut off from any light source.  His nimble hand slipped down into his belt, feeling for the large stem of his industrial flash light.  Pulling it free from its compartment on his belt, he flipped it on.

    The flash light’s beam shot forward like a golden lance stabbing into the blanket of darkness.  He scanned the large room, for a few moments before he took soft steps across the cold concrete.  The floor was so chilled the frigidness bit through the heels of his boots.  He took a deep breath.  He didn’t even know what he was looking for.

    It was as he realized he was out of his depths that his flash light uncovered a red knee.  Slowly his flash light drew up the figure, exposing the abdomen, the chest, the neck, and finally the face… THE FACE… he knew the face.

    The light came on all at once.  The shock of the sudden brilliance caused a white out effect.  It left Green Arrow blinking, water running down his mask and cheeks.  The voice he recognized as Mario Falcone began to speak before he could even clear his eyes.

    “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you kid?  I expected as much.”  He chuckled.  “You didn’t honestly think you’d just break into the building of the most powerful man in Gotham’s underworld, and just…walk away with his pride?”

    “Actually…”

    The sound of the thirty men who stood behind leveling the guns on the hero sounded like applause.  Arrow looked at them for a moment before he looked back to Mario, and the man who stood to his left, brooding a full foot taller than the mob boss.  “Well, no matter, you're DEAD.

    “Wait! I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Green Arrow,”  the deep voice called from the thin lips of the larger, red-clad figure.  The spandex-clad figure pushed Falcone to the side taking a step forward.  “Was hoping it was Ollie, but truthfully I think your head will look much better on my mantle place.”

    Then it hit the Archer like a ton of bricks...

    “Slingshot.”


NEXT ISSUE:  It all comes down to the fever pitch next issue, as Green Arrow takes on Slingshot, and Falcone’s army of thirty members.



ARROW-MAIL

    It’s been a while since I’ve said anything, as our EIC graciously pointed out Last Issue.  I’ve really not had much to say.  The issues have been speaking for themselves, I’d think.  The Gotham story has been a lot of fun.  Playing with the Gotham that my good friend, Steve Crosby, has created for our universe has made me feel like a kid in a candy store.  Truthfully I was going to borrow a Rogue of Batman’s as the climax fight. But thinking about it, I felt Slingshot would work out better.  I really like using these old villains, to give a shout out to the legacy of Green Arrow.  Though, we try to just hint at Ollie in these issues.   As Connor, tries to be a hero. Although He does not follow directly in the footsteps of Ollie, he does feel like he’s walking in his father’s shoes.  Being the Son and heir to a name as prolific as Green Arrow, there’s a lot to live up to. Connor feels that what he’s trying to do isn’t always enough.  He’s not as good as Ollie was, and he knows it.  But Ollie had Years of experience doing it, and Connor is just starting out.  I like Ollie as a driving force to have Connor continue trying to be a better hero, even if he’s not much like his father.  There are definitely qualities heroes like Batman, have, which Connor lacks.  As pointed out Connor knows this, and wants to learn them.

    It’s really a balancing act for me.  One on side, I don’t like to use Ollie’s memory that much in this series.  Connor is Green Arrow now, and he’s doing things his own way.  Yet at the same time, Connor needs a driving force to be a better hero—and for vigilante style hero, being able to assess clues, and be able to understand his surroundings are important.  Many villains are super-powered, and though Connor is skilled in hand to hand fighting, there are times that is not enough… Drakkon showed him that.  There’s also the crafty villains that he is facing, like Falcone—where a little detective knowledge would have saved him a lot of heartache.

    We will be playing more on his weaknesses in the issues to come and his yearning to learn more and to push himself harder.  The mental and physical strife, and unsureness of him is a central part of what I’ve been trying to do with this character… to give him relatable qualities.  Connor really is such a vivid and multi-layered character.  And I love writing about his feelings and emotions, and his yearning to be a great super hero.  These are really the aspects that keep me writing.  And I hope keeps everyone reading.

Thanks for being continuing to read, and being supportive of this series.

-Jae Lizhini
09/2007

 

Story © 2007 Jae Lizhini and may not be reproduced without permission.