The sun was always supposed to shine in California. Connor was sure he heard that somewhere. Yet, he couldn’t remember a point when it did. His memories of this city; from his childhood; were scattered. He remembered little about the actual city. Though he didn’t spend a lot of time with his mother even before he joined the Ashram, Moonday had a habit of setting him up to stay with relatives more than not. Large towering buildings loomed over in every direction, drenching the sidewalks he now walked on with deep shadows, filling the cracks and streaked over the bleached pavement with a black void. There had been a sun today, but he hadn’t seen it. It passed down from the sky slipping behind the cityscape before he opened his eyes. Perhaps he meditated to long, everyday. There was a lot of work to clear his mind. So many things that bothered this boy, things part of him hated to think about.

He wanted to be close to his mother, he wanted to talk to her again, like he did after Robin, Batman, and himself had taken down Milo Armitage, his stepfather. A man who dealt in illegal weapons, operated a criminal empire, but most of all was a wife beater. His mother lived three blocks from where he stood now. He could see the pale blue tower of the mansion from here. Why was he out walking tonight, the night that Milo Armitage was released from jail, released and returned to civilian life free to batter his mother again? Connor knew that he shouldn’t have went to Japan to save a country when his mother needed saving, from this diluted emotion of love she felt for the man. However, it was Ollie who taught him the lives of many out weighed the comfort of one. Deep down, Connor also knew there was little he could do. His mother… that night in café in Gotham admitted it… admitted he beat her, but she’d never go to the cops. Never had he felt as helpless as he did right now. His pacifistic ways he learned at the Ashram questioned once again.

Connor’s green Chuck Taylor’s padded over the beaten sidewalk, his emerald eyes darted down to his footfalls, and slender eyes watched the caramel Levi Dockers billowing over the canvas shoes. It was a warm night, the humidity was noticeably thick… and even as he walked he could feel the black t-shirt as it stuck to his chest. It felt good to the modest eighteen year old martial artist, to get out of the spandex for a while. After spending three days straight wearing the same suit, it needed a wash in a big way. And to not carry around the extra seven pounds of arrows and bow was also an added relief. Connor liked to feel normal. He liked to walk among the people without a green mask, without launching arrows into the sky. It was the cheering he hated the most however. The fact people thought he was a celebrity… a hero to the masses. When in reality he was doing what he knew he had to. Yet there was that thought that he could not remove from his mind. What made him in the right, to protect people from violence… with more violence? He was not a pacifist anymore. At least in the way he was taught at the Ashram. Connor knew he should find the answers inside himself, decide what he needed to do, what he was fighting for. He was not his father, this much he knew. He could not continue the tradition of the Green Arrow, in the same manner as Ollie, only he knew that he did need to continue it, in his own way. He needed to find a middle ground, he could not allow himself to loose control, and he almost killed the twins in Japan. This was not acceptable.

Connor’s thoughts faded from his mind in a billow of smoke, when shots suddenly rang out from behind him. A blond woman darted out in front followed by five well dressed men. Each of the men followed close behind her carrying a hand gun. Right away Connor recognized the platinum blond woman who rushed out towards him. His hand flipped forward and he grabbed her wrist. It was an easy job to alter her momentum. His shoulder veered around pulling her towards him, his hips gestured forward. Crackshot felt the change of her position as she looked up. Briefly she caught those slender green eyes, and let a smile craft across her face. Her body fell forward as the martial artist’s fingers let go of her wrist plunging her through a slender space between two shops. Her shoulder slid into the concrete, scratching her skin as her body slid into place.

Connor backed himself against the wall covering the slit as the men came to a stop. “Where did she go?” one of the men asked, as the five of them stopped at the edge of the alleyway. “You?” The largest of the group spat looking at Connor with determination. He pulled his gun towards the archer’s face. Connor’s body shifted to the left his right arm flailing out to catch the gunman’s wrist. Spinning his station, on the ball of his feet the martial artist twisted the larger man’s arm in one movement pressing it to his back. The thug’s face was pressed in the crack between the shops viewing Crackshot.

Connor put pressure on the gun hand, until the man reflexively let the gun loose into his hand. “Answer your question, sir?” Connor spoke in a delightful manner.

“Kid you don’t want to get mixed up in this,” another voice called from behind him. Connor brought his knee forward into the man who he was holding against the wall. The larger man dropped to his knees. Spinning around Connor brought his left leg out connecting the face of another of the men in the fine suits. The second gun man gave out a groan as his neck twisted the rest of his body following the movement in one resisted motion.

“I think I already am.” Connor smiled a goofy grin, as he looked at the remaining four men. His hand let go of the first gun man as he brought up the gun pointing it at the four men. “So how about you all turn around now, and you can chalk this as a lesson learned?”

The three men all lunged at Connor at the same time. Connor dove over the first one’s back flipping over him only to be clotheslined by a free arm. He felt his teeth chomp his tongue on impact. As he fell, he used the momentum tucking himself into a summersault. His hands grabbed the concrete, however, allowing him to find his feet rather simply. “The hammer wasn’t even drawn,” one of the thugs said as the five men regrouped.

“Well I wasn’t going to actually use it. I don’t like guns,” Connor mentioned as one of the men came forward again. Connor easily sidestepped the man, throwing an elbow into his back. The archer’s body spun around as he let his hips snap, in a turn-- his leg extending impacting a shoulder.

“But I do,” Crackshot spoke with a smile. Her hand darted forwards the butt of the berretta she held impacting the nose of one of the men, the bone shattering in a soft rush of blood. She took not a moment to regroup herself as she leaned in forward, her skull smashing into one last gun man’s forehead. He dropped without a sound into the group of now unconscious men.

“Do I need to ask?” Connor said looking at the woman who he had shared a kiss with on two previous occasions.

“You can, but I’m sure you won’t like the answer.” The blond woman hummed, her petal pink lips forming a smile. “You just can’t stay away huh, Green Arrow?”

“As my former Master said, Fate and coincidence are not the same,” Connor told her.

	The Emerald Archer... "Trust In Words"
Green Arrow #6- March, Year 2	by Jae Lizhini

It had been almost a year since the last time Connor had seen the former Underworld gunner, Crackshot. The last time was when; Eddie Flyers had gotten his hands on some information about Green Lantern’s father only to find out it was really his uncle. At that time Crackshot was employed by Green Lantern’s uncle, and through a turn of events, which lead to Crackshot’s own falling of her employer, she teamed up with Green Lantern and himself and managed to stop a satellite from destroying the United States. No matter what she had to say, Connor was sure that it would be a lot easier to swallow than the laser satellite. Too bad he was wrong.

“Walk and talk, Green Arrow, walk and talk,” Crackshot spoke as she turned from the scene they had just created. A scene of a side walk littered with five gun runners lying unconscious on a major city sidewalk. “It would probably do well, that we don’t get arrested for vigilantism. It’s still illegal, especially when you are not wearing the mask.”

“I guess I don’t really have that much of a secret identity, if even a common thug can discover me.”

“Well it is an inch long piece of cloth. Plus a girl never forgets the eyes of her prey.”

“Well even still you can call me Connor. I do want to have something of a normal life.”

“Is that why a Buddhist monk, picks up a life of fighting crime?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Melanie.”

“Well what do you want to talk about, -Connor-?”

“How about why those guys were after you?”

“Oh that, well that would be something we’d need somewhere more private to talk about.”

“I thought we’ve been though this…”

“Not that kind of private, silly-unless you’re game. Actually this is about something my father uncovered-- Something that might have cost him his life.”

“Look I’m sorry. I’m staying in a hotel not far from here.”

“Lead the way, handsome.”

Armitage Enterprises
San Francisco, CA…

The skyline of any city was just a gridlock of large buildings that towered over the streets and landscape. To many it was always a mystery what these buildings held. What secrets relied within the shimmering seconds of power and money? Most people went clueless about what secrets they held. And some knew all the secrets, and knew all the many things that went on in the city they called home. Some men controlled the skyline of their city both through legitimate practices as well as held their hands in more than their share of illegal activity. One such man was Milo Armitage. For the last ten years he was a major player in the San Francisco business world, one the strongest and wealthiest men, not only in his city but on a global scale. That was until he made a bad decision. Despite the warnings, Milo tried to contract a deal in Gotham City. It might have went without a hitch, if he also hadn’t hired some men to also be targeting his stepson. Batman he might have been able to deal with, but the combined might of Batman, Robin and Green Arrow did cause some troubles. The deal was broken up by the three crime fighters, and Milo found himself in jail.

It had been a year of legal battles before the man who put firearm sales on the map got to return to his tower. The tower was not much more than a modest skyscraper. Its pale blue and gray surface stood with the others that rose above the streets of this city, yet Armitage Enterprises was anything but modest.

Today had been the big day of course; he was released from prison, and finally gotten back to his office. It was where he stood now. His feet firmly planted on the soft burgundy carpet that ran from wall to wall. The lights were dimmed to an almost black void. The blinds on the windows were drawn up however, allowing the man who stood behind the businessman to fully see the aging criminal… able to see the fury behind the thickly bearded face. Milo tensed his hands as he drew them close to his back, pressing on the black tuxedo he wore, small wrinkles spider webbed across his back. “So I’ve been gone a year, and in that time you’ve managed to wreck everything I’ve worked so hard to build?” Milo’s voice rang, in its baritone meter.

“We don’t see it as a bad step, sir. With all the attention your dealings with Black Mask, had given you. It was really the only step.” Michael Miller let his hand slide through his dark brown and receding hairline. “We have taken a small loss, but we expect to almost totally recover lost revenues next quarter.”

“Almost, Miller?” Milo asked his head turned around, the bangs that dotted over his deeply tanned forehead grazed over his angled eyebrows. “Almost is not good enough, you jack ass. Do you know anything about business? If you can’t at least make good on what is expected, then you will fail.” Milo’s cold stare looked at him. “We need to be working outside the box, or else we will not be able to maintain our foothold in any industry. Despite going legit, you have in fact kept the same structure we had previously; you have not done anything but waste my money, but not allowing us to generate revenue, in the hidden quarters.”

“Actually sure, we have continued to use the excess quarters, as you enjoy to call it. Only we’ve subsidized that portion of our business for monitoring purposes.” Miller sighed hating the way Armitage addressed him. “In short these quarters of our business has given us both incite on our competitors as well as kept our transaction with outside parties as well covered. We have on occasion when we have good factual information of a solid investment acted up on these, so called monitoring, and it is not hard to get hired help if our own people are not enough. Actually we are in the middle of one of these proceedings right now. The fourth, if my memory serves me.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, some of our agents in Italy, reported an American archeologist, with no dig crew going into the catacombs under the streets of Rome. This man was identified to our people as William Jennings, I’m sure this name rings a bell?”

“Jennings? Oh it has been quite sometime since I heard that name.” A smile lit across his face, “He was always getting himself into trouble, an intelligent and crafty man. Didn’t he have a daughter who worked for us at one point?”

“Yes sir, Melanie Jennings… Crackshot! She is actually a part of this.”

“I see, so one of our former agent’s has some family issues happening. Those can always be messy. But how about you give me the damn point?”

“Well, as it turns out Jennings found a document of some of the oldest alchemy ever discovered. That in itself is enough to go through with this. But sir, it gets better. This document contains a method to extract the fibers of metallic alloys and refinish them into other compounds. This is the secret of Roman craftsmanship.” Miller smiled.

“Okay so you found something that can be of use to us. Then where is this document now?”

“Well a week ago we got word that Jennings went missing. Of course we were curious, and that’s when in his room there in Italy we came across one half of the document. We also discovered that he sent a package to his daughter, a day before he turned up missing. We think he sent her the other half of the document fearing for his life.”

“I see, and when our men went to see Crackshot?”

“She fled, earlier today when my men approached her on this manner. She avoided them and managed to escape. Only three hours ago, they caught up with her. Only to be taken down by Crackshot and the aid of another. A blond male, whom couldn’t be older than twenty years of age, he should not be hard to track down and find. As my men said he had blond hair, but also appeared to be of Oriental and African descent. My men will find him soon I’m sure, and we can finally end this masquerade. They couldn’t possibly beat a squad of the finest men and women at my disposal.”

Anger glinted in Milo’s eyes as he squeezed his fist. “No need to waste your time finding the boy. His name is Connor Hawke. Check all available hotels in the area, signed in under his name, or better yet, look for any transactions from my wife’s account, Sandra Hawke-Armitage. And don’t underestimate that boy. Send every available man and woman when you find him. But as long as Eddie Flyers isn’t with him we have a chance.”

“The Eddie Flyers?.” Miller gulped.

“Yes. And call my wife, and let her know I’ll be working late tonight.”

Motel 8
San Francisco, CA

Connor’s arm held the off white door open leading into the hotel room. Crackshot eyed the bowman, her blue eyes taking in his body as he stood there allowing her first entrance. “You really are a trip,” the hired gun said as she finally turned from Connor, and walked into the room.

The room didn’t look any different from any other Motel 8 room Crackshot had seen before. Dark brown carpet, running from wall to wall, with a single queen size bed sitting in the center of the room. The bed was surrounded by two night stands and an ebony television placed right in front. She let her hips rock as she made her way across the carpet, her eyes taking in the much unlived-in quality of the place. Her eyes drifted to the closed bathroom door, perfectly sure that it to was unused, but contained his bow, and quiver, locked so that the cleaning lady wouldn’t find it.

Coming to a stop at the bed she slowly sat down on the still untouched sheets. She leaned back against the red bedspread her eyes finding Connor’s as he walked in. “Okay lay it on me. There’s something going down, and I’m not sure if I’m going to help you yet.”

“I thought you Green Arrows were supposed to be like Robin hoods, always helping out the damsel in distress.” She smiled as she patted on the bed next to her. “I’ll tell you what is going on. But maybe you should make yourself comfortable. I promise not to bite.”

Connor’s cheeks blushed as he saw just how she said her last words with almost a sultry look to her eyes. Connor always felt a bit nervous around this woman, and he wasn’t sure what she meant by not biting. But he was perfectly sure it had some sort of rude condemnation, which Ollie would have laughed about. “Standing is fine, Melanie. Just tell me what’s going on. I am sure that those people will be sending more guys after you.”

“After us, Connor… this is a big thing, now and you’re involved in it as much as you probably won’t like it.”

“Well I can deal with whatever is thrown my way,” Connor reassured her.

“I’m sure you can. This is all about my dad,” she said, as she looked down at her bare knees. “See he sent me a letter from an excavation he was doing in Italy. He’s been… researching the catacombs there.” Crackshot gulped, her head shot up looking into Connor’s green eyes. “He found something there, something that some people wanted. In the letter he spoke that he feared for his life. Two days ago I got a call from the police station in Rome; they said my father went missing. Connor… I’m scared, that my father might be in trouble... or worse.

Connor sighed, his robust lips forming a frown. “I see, so why were those men after you? Do they think you have what they are looking for?”

“I guess, they asked me about what my father sent me in the mail. I told them it was a letter; of course I didn’t go into it. But they asked about a document he’d found. A second half… they are looking for it. They think I have it. But my father would never trust me with something li--.”

“Shhh!” Connor let out as he brought a finger to his lips. Crackshot’s eyes got wide as she watched him back up to the side of the door. Connor closed his eyes as he began to regulate his heart beat counting internally, as silence ran over the room.

The door was slammed open with a heavy foot. The metal hammer slammed through the lock as three large men lunged inside pointing their guns at the ready. Connor’s hand went low colliding with the first man’s stomach. Connor used his momentum to flip the larger man over his back. Even before the first man landed on the floor Connor’s left leg kicked out colliding with the second man’s hand, his gun flying free.

“Don’t move!” Crackshot suddenly piped up. The third man’s gun launched towards Connor’s face. Her own gun was pressed into the larger man’s forehead. Only a moment of pause from the guy who held the gun to Connor’s head was enough for the archer to act upon. His neck darted outwards away from the gun, as his right hand slammed into the man’s armpit knocking him hard against the wall. If he used any more pressure he would have dislodged the shoulder blade.

“Connor!” Crackshot called as the man was slammed against the wall. Connor had little time to react as the window in the room was suddenly shattered by bullets. The hero dove as the glass shattered into the room, his legs kicking open the bathroom door.

“Shit, what are they doing? We are still in here!” one of the disarmed men shouted his body sliding onto the floor.

“Could you shut the fuck up?” Crackshot yelled at the men. Her back was pressed against the wall, her fingers sliding a gun free from her vest. She looked out the window as the gun fire stopped. Quickly she leaned up into the window. Her body lunged forward her body spiraling into a roll as she let four bullets unload from the chamber. When she stopped leaning against the wall, four bodies fell past the window.

“She’s good,” one of them said.

“Well she -IS- Crackshot,” a deep voice called from the hallway. The three men who had previously been lying on the ground felt it hard to breathe as the solitary figure walked into the room. The figure was a scarlet spandex covered man with golden armor over his shoulders and down his arms. “And I hope she’s smart enough to know when it’s best to give up.”

The blond hair spilled over her face as her eyes looked up at the man who stood at the doorway. She recognized this man, she use to work with him, when they were employed by Rayner. “Hatchet… been a long time.”

“Yes how I’ve missed yo- ugh!” The bathroom door slammed open by a deep green covered shoulder. Hatchet’s metal covered skull shattered the door on impact, but the momentum of the door caused him to loose his balance, only noticeable by the five in the room by the thud.

“Guess I won’t be staying here any longer.” Green Arrow gestured as he slipped the bow across his shoulder.

“Don’t worry you can crash with me!” Crackshot said grabbing the hero’s hand as she dove through the shattered window carrying him with her. Bullets streaked over them as they landed on the metal railing of the fire escape, the metal grating pulling from the building as they impacted the flimsy staircase.

“Crackshot, go I’ll cover you,” Green Arrow spoke as he pulled his bow from his shoulder.

“You might like that thing, but a gun is always faster,” Crackshot said to the hero, snapping the bridge across the berretta into place. Her slender eyes narrowed as she aimed at the roof of the shopping center across the parking lot. Green Arrow could barely make out how many men had been gathered up there, due to the bright flashes of guns firing at them from the location. Squeezing the trigger the gun jostled against her hand, as the bullet screamed from the gun. Green Arrow watched in amazement as the bullet sped across the parking lot and impacted a water tower’s support beam-- which lay over 100 clicks away. The tower leaned with a loud screech before it capsized to the left slamming hard into the shopping center roof. Concrete shattered along with the splash of a month’s supply of water.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” the bowman said as he followed Crackshot down the fire escape. Scarce bullets still darted through the air at the running twosome. Bad shots however, that didn’t cause either of them to even flinch. She leaped from the edge of the ladder landing on the hard pavement. Her body rolled into the fall. Green Arrow stood there a moment as she landed, bringing two arrows free from his quiver separated by his middle finger. Notching the two emerald shafts into the wooden bow, he pulled the string back though he couldn’t see much of anything to aim at. Yet in qui-gong marksmanship had little to do with sight. You didn’t use solely your eyes to aim for a shot, all your senses assisted in feeling the shot. The cold winds, the sound of ricochet bullets... all of these things were more important than seeing his targets. Green Arrow felt his shot for only a breath or two before his fingers let go of the shafts. The archer however did not wait to see where they landed; he had already leaped off the ladder as the two shafts sunk into two different targets. His feet spread out as his heels hit the side of the wall. His body gestured slowly shifting his weight as his foot falls ran diagonally down the wall.

“Show off.” Crackshot smiled as the archer finally dropped onto the pavement. He looked at her for a brief moment, before he was caught by the sound of screeching tires. The archer’s head turned up ahead to see a burgundy sports car suddenly slide across their path.

“I guess I could have expected you to be in trouble!” the loud voice of Eddie Flyers called from the car. The former expediter for the CIA, turned hired gun, now a semi retired legend tried to not hang his head out the window as he caught sight of not one but two familiar people standing there. “Get the lead out of yer ass boy; I don’t got all fucking day!”

“Well you didn’t have to come, Eddie” Green Arrow spoke as he ran towards the car, with the blond female running closely at his heels. A single gunner was still firing bullets at the two of them as they made it to the car. The boy opened the door and lunged into the vehicle in one movement, Crackshot sliding in behind him. Eddie had hit the gas however before Crackshot even felt her body hit the seat.

“Well the hell I didn’t boyo,” Eddie said, his tired eyes watching the road from underneath his prescription glasses. “Was monitoring some local channels, about an hour ago, and kept hearing the name Crackshot. Thought that codename was familiar… Good to see ya again babe. But anyways, that’s when I heard your name kid, didn’t take em four seconds tah figure out yer ass. Costume or not, guess there ain’t very many mutts like you in the city.”

“Good to see you again as well Eddie,” Crackshot called in between Eddie’s explanation.

“Yeah, likewise Melanie. Your dad is in big trouble again I see. Lucky for him and you I reckon that he’s such a likeable guy.”

“You know her dad, Eddie?” Connor asked almost shocked.

“Hell yeah I know her dad, everyone knows ole Jennings. So I guess we’re off to Rome then, aye kids?”

“Eddie you don’t have to…” Crackshot tried to say but was again cut off by Eddie.

“Look Crackshot… Melanie… whatever, I know you and Connor want some private time. I’m all for that. But I owe your father one, Melanie plus… there’s some big trouble brewing. Armitage wants this document bad.”

“I see he doesn’t waste time making himself a nuisance again,” Green Arrow spoke.

“Hah! Kind of Ironic, aye kid first day out of the big house, and Milo’s organization is already shitting a gold brick on this one.” The old man shook his head locks of thick brown hair sliding across his brow. “I got a pilot waiting for us, at the airport. Shouldn’t be much of a problem to get down there, though getting into a crime scene... that might be a little trickier… but we can handle it.”

Armitage Enterprises
San Francisco, CA…

“What do you mean they got away?” Armitage growled into the cell phone, he held into his ear. His left fist balling hard, “We had a good twenty men up there. Don’t tell me it was the Green Lantern again, to mess things up.”

“No sir, Crackshot and Green Arrow did it all themselves. I think Green Arrow has improved since last we fought him,” the voice on the phone spoke. “Currently they are on the freeway heading southbound, being driven by… Eddie Flyers.” Hatchet spat into his own phone.

“Good, all the fish in the barrel.” Milo spat, a smile curling up across his lips. “Flyers, Crackshot and Connor are sure to lead us right to the prize. So cease the chase and return to my office.”

“Yes sir.”

Milo Armitage turned the black Italian leather chair around, the seat squeaking on its wheels as the criminal turned to his desk. He however wasn’t to admire the deep cherry mahogany covered desk, or to look at the spreadsheets that showed across over a beige monitor that besieged the desk between two large stacks of documents. No Milo’s eyes drew up to look at the man who stood in front of him now. The large red haired man looked down at Milo as their eyes met. He stood at over six feet tall; his deeply tanned skin was torn away in places, and replaced instead with what looked like surgical steel plating. The sports coat hid everything from his chin down, but anyone who had never seen this man before would almost expect him to be something of a Cyborg. Something not entirely human.

Partly they would be correct, but Sonar was not automation. The plating that showed off across his flesh was a reinforced body, with small holes circulating throughout his form. This plating was a cybernetic enhancement he installed on himself, after his first battle with Green Lantern and The Flash. The construct enhanced his powers but not without drawbacks of their own. In this cybernetic state he both had to continually draw on power for his robotic form as well as fuel his biological needs.

“Thank you for waiting for me, Sonar. Now I suspect you’d wish for me to get down to business, eh?” Milo asked the man.

“Well it would be nice Mr. Armitage. I’m about to go nuts just standing here,” Sonar responded in a soft whisper.

“Of course, of course lad-the skinny of the situation is of course a rare document that you needn’t know much about. I’m offering you 50 grand up front right now, to go with Hatchet and his team of men, to Italy to put Green Arrow on ice.”

“You are employing Hatchet?” Sonar looked down at the grey bearded man, “Interesting.” Sonar put his hand to his chin. “I don’t know this Green Arrow; this is the new one right? The chop suey one? Did all that stuff in Japan a few weeks ago?”

“Yes and yes.” Milo nodded looking up at the large villain. “But I should warn you Green Arrow has been some trouble for me. Not to mention he has with him two very talented people, Crackshot and Eddie Flyers.”

“The Eddie Flyers?” Sonar exclaimed. “I’ve only heard rumors of this man. It will be interesting if he lives up to his name.”

“So will you take this job then?” Milo leaned forward looking at the man who stood before him, his eyes narrowing. “Fifty grand on the table now, another seventy-five if you manage to kill Green Arrow.”

Sonar stood silent a moment. His lips curved, yet his eyes remained still, as though the man was in deep thought. Milo knew his answer before he let it out. He did not have such a simple time of contacting men due to his networking. Milo had studied this man while he himself was behind bars. Like himself, the new Sonar had ambition that could help greatly his organization. He wanted to use Sonar to get his foothold back. He wanted to use him to finally get a head up on his step son.

Sonar was an alien stuck on earth, the ex-leader of an empire yet cut off from his people, stuck on this desolate mud ball. Truly he had a two part objective in life. One was to make the heroes who forced him to rebuild his body-The Flash and Green Lantern-pay for what they did to him. The second was to get off Earth by any means necessary. For the last two years he had been working in the underworld to gain a small fortune, ever since he escaped from The Slab. “I should also mention to you,” Milo spoke in a hushed whisper, “that like the former Green Lantern and Green Arrow, this new Green Arrow is a close friend of the new Green Lantern.”

Sonar clenched his fist tightly. His gaze changed. “How close?”

“It would crush Green Lantern to know his best friend died.”

“I see, when do I leave for Italy?”

“You will have a limo waiting outside the Marriot, tomorrow morning at six-thirty. Don’t be late.”

Miller’s Aviation Yard
Wine, CA

Tucked away north of San Francisco, past the Golden Gate Bridge the area of Wine California sits. A dark brown patch of rolling hills mostly unpopulated areas that mostly serves as underdeveloped parks. The site of course was familiar to Connor as several thousand miles further north sat the Ashram, where Connor spent most of his formidable years.

However it was not a homecoming for Connor, at least not today. Instead he stood in a small hanger his back leaning against the great wooden wall. To his left, his father’s friend, and impromptu guardian, Eddie Flyers was talking to a grey mustached man, who aside from the different tone of hair color, appeared to resemble Eddie himself. They were of course talking about what it would take to get this plane out tonight.

The man’s name was Dennis Slogan, and Connor knew the guy okay, he like Eddie used to be in the mercenary business, but had went into retirement. Slogan now just piloted for fun mostly, and for the last several years had only one passenger, his old friend Eddie Flyers. Times changed however, and like Eddie, Slogan had to step out of retirement to try to pay for past mistakes. Though Slogan’s main reasoning wasn’t regret from his time as a pilot for mercenaries… it was the chance to pilot his plane once again. A plane that he had sold to Oliver Queen years ago… a plane that Eddie had gotten refurbished in order to intense the old pilot. A deal among friends, Eddie would say. This plane was called the Barracuda. A f-250 dual turbine jet, painted a deep black, a stunning machine even by today’s standards… and Slogan’s Achilles’ heel.

“Look I know it’s late, Dennis and I’d not ask of it wasn’t an emergency,” Eddie spoke. “See the blond girl over there? Look familiar at all?”

Slogan turned his head to the left taking in the blond whose head tilted over to lie on Green Arrow’s shoulder. “Not really, should I?”

“Her name is Melanie Jennings. Daughter of Wild Bill, and he’s in some serious trouble,” Eddie told him.

“Guess us old farts have to stick together. I just had a family thing myself to do. My niece’s getting baptized. Oh hell, that’s what they make video cameras for.” Slogan smiled.

“Now that’s the spirit.” Eddie smiled, letting his hand pat the man’s shoulder. “Just like the old days.”

“Except we’re saving lives instead of taking them.”

“And they say they can’t teach old dogs new tricks.” Eddie smiled.

“You do realize my wife is going to kill me for this,” Slogan reminded Eddie.

“Marcy doesn’t know about Green Arrow at all does she?”

“No, and she doesn’t have to. This is for my past, not hers. She doesn’t even know about ‘The Life’ or how my high school-drop out self, manages to get four figure checks every month. This saving the world thing is between me and god.”

As the two old friends spoke about their own inner demons, Green Arrow had his own to deal with. His back sat planted against the cold wall as he stared at the plane. The warmth coming from Crackshot’s head reminded him that he was alive, and that once again he was fighting the good fight. Yet he often wondered what that fight was.

His father… Oliver Queen fought for those who could not fight for themselves; he fought in the ghettos of Philadelphia to protect African Americans against prejudice, protected Jews against Nazis. Hell the original Green Arrow fought against corporate America, to save small land owners, and he… the new Green Arrow, didn’t do any of that stuff. He didn’t know what he was doing. He took up the mantle as he thought he should. At first it was to help get back the Ashram. But now what? Since the Ashram had its land back from Zen World, what was he doing? He was continually showing that he had to make a decision, between being a true Buddhist and being a hero. Green Arrow hoped he was doing the right thing. He was on his way to Rome, to save a man who meant nothing to him. A single man, stuck and in trouble. Was this the most he could do?

“Connor?” Crackshot whispered in his ear.

“Yeah,” Green Arrow said back, his eyes still looking at the plane.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Doing this for me.”

“Its not for you Melanie. It’s for everybody.”

Next Issue: Green Arrow, along with Crackshot, and Eddie make their way to Rome, to find Wild Bill Jennings. Why is he in trouble, and why is Hatchet and Sonar following suit? Find out next time, in “When in Rome”.

Story © 2004 Jae Lizhini and may not be reproduced without permission.