"When in Rome"
One week ago
Catacombs of Rome
“He went this way!” A voice shouted out, fracturing harshly amongst the
stony walls of the catacombs. The flash light beam zinged and moved haphazardly
as the gray silhouette ran across the stone pathway. William Jennings could feel
his body bowl over with every breath he took. The voices of his pursuers would
not be masked no matter how fast he ran, or how hard his flat footed style of
running allocated loud echoes over the ancient burial chambers of a civilization
that had fallen a long time before he was born.
His saturated locks of thinning blond hair plastered to his brow as he ran through the twisting and turning stone halls that seemed to run off forever. As he ran swinging his arms wildly, he cursed himself under his breath of never leaving good enough alone. He could have been happily retired, watched his daughter Melanie grow up and get married, see his grand children. But for men like William “Wild Bill” Jennings things like risking your life for a rare find was like a junkie quitting the needle. You could do it… at least for a time, but the craving would strike, and you could not help it. You had to… you had to.
The sound of a ricocheting bullet brought him back to his senses; a small trail of sparks lighting the otherwise dim catacombs. Wild Bill felt the sudden lurch of his heart almost bruising his rib cage. He fell hard against the wall dodging the metal shell. “I think we got him,” one of the voices bellowed from the dark halls to his left. The sweat dripped off his brow singing his eyes. He didn’t want it to get this far. Was money truly that important to them? He was a legend. Back in his day people talked about what he did. Indiana Jones and Lara Croft were merely fiction. Even men like Sven Nelson in the 1940’s led little to the exploits he once had. How could Wild Bill Jennings go out like this? What choice did he have, however? As much as he’d love to go out in the blaze of glory, he was weaponless, defenseless, and the only thing he could hope to do was lose them in these caves. He felt in his pocket for the envelope that sat curled up inside. The documents he had found would give him quite a reward. Armitage’s company, if it was still around would pay top dollar for these documents. He however had made a mistake of announcing the discovery too early. He didn’t have time to gather the resources. How was he to know, Milo was to be released early?
He took off from the wall again; the footfalls and barks from behind him were close. He had to keep looking ahead however as his body began the same cycle of turning with the strange pathways that seemed to have no method of slants and curves. The bones and rocks that littered the ground was also something else entirely he had to be aware of. One false step and he’d fall. They were close… another succession of bullets darted past his face. His daughter would have already had him killed judging by how close they were. He counted the luck he must have been given by the divine that Armitage’s men hadn’t hired experts. The men were nothing to special. Wild Bill couldn’t help but remind himself. They weren’t professional, and if he had a gun this would not be happening. There were a lot of “If only” thoughts running through the man’s head. As he continued to run, there was a way out of this mess, at least for now if he could make it to the end of this hallway.
The bullets continued to stream across his face, bouncing off the walls in sparks as he ran. They were getting more plentiful the further he ran. Wild Bill could definitely feel the burning in his chest, the exhaustion in his lungs as he pushed himself across the catacomb’s walkway. The voices behind him got increasingly louder. He could hear them; they had to be mere steps away from him. Wild Bill tried to focus. That’s when he felt a shot from behind ring true.
The metal shell punctured through his shoulder, his flesh separating like warm butter. Wild Bill’s body motioned forward the sudden sting of pain conversing over his form. The man had to bite his tongue as not to let out a scream. His hands clapped against the wall, in a slap as he felt the burn of the bullet. The clammy wall did little to shelter the blow, or to make it any easier to keep up his running. He took another step forward. This was followed by another gunshot. Another marker hit. The bullet slipped into his left kneecap and the blood sprayed across the wall.
The flashlight fell from his curled hand as the bullet shattered his leg’s cartilage. His mouth gasped out a wince as his leg curved forward. His balance lost tossing him to the musty floor. His eyes squinted trying to see anything in the darkness that now surrounded him. He pushed his hand outwards fingers slipping on the ancient bones that littered the stone walk.
The men who had followed him up to this point continued their ascent towards
him. The flash lights they still held blinded him as they darted towards him. He
continued to crawl biting back the pain. Two more shots were released one
hitting his shoulder, the other his wrist.
Is this how I was supposed to die? Wild Bill thought his body lurching
forward. His hand pushed through the floor, past the dust, and rat droppings.
His torso and unusable legs slid with him. The voices were louder behind him. It
was as his bleeding left hand rushed over a small vent, his palm surrogated and
slashed as it slid across the razor sharp stone. Blood spilled from his hand
splashing through the vent he could not see. The old man let out a gulp, as he
heard the blood being washed through the opening in the floor.
The ground around him began to get warm. From underneath him a circle began to grow, first it was a dim red, and increased to a bright glow. Wild Bill squinted his eyes once again to make out what was happening exactly. The red glowing lines were followed by a series of triangles in the same glowing method. The men who were following him came to a stop as they saw the glowing Pentacle being broadcast across the ground. “FIRE!” one of the men yelled, unsure what they were looking at. They however had a job to do… and in a world where men could run faster than the speed of time, and shoot laser beams from their eyes, believability was a virtue most now contained.
The five men took aim on the lying Wild Bill. The hand guns began to unload their remaining clips on the man, the shells splattering into his lying body. The Pentacle got larger and brighter. To the gunmen’s dismay the light quickly made them shield their eyes by its intensity brandishing the whole area in a great red spectrum of blinding rays.
The five men tried to back up as the Pentacle’s rays started rushing towards
them. But they didn’t get more than a step or two away as the red light struck
them. Each of the men screamed in a tortured voice they had all reserved for
Hell. Their skin instantly liquefying and muscles congealing in the beam’s
intense heat.
The entire process took three minutes, a slow agonizing death. When the ray
finally dissipated from the now dark catacombs, it left only five charred bodies
in its depth. The sixth body… William ‘Wild Bill’ Jennings was not present. For
he, only a pile of clothes was present where he laid- lined with darkened scorch
marks and eradiated holes.
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The
Emerald Archer...
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| Green Arrow #7- April, Year 2 | by Jae Lizhini |
The Present
Appia Antica
Rome, Italy
Appia Antica was not always a long stretch of tourist fancy. In the times of the great Roman Empire, Old Appia Way, was one of the most important roads in Italy. The road itself connected the heart of Rome to South Italy, and most of the Mediterranean extending trade routes to and from the city. Yet now the long road is only a shell of its former glory, some of which could be accused of the emergence of Appia Troia.
Walking amongst the road one can see many things that would catch the eye, amongst the road littered with deep green groves and dotted with the large Cyprus trees, one can find the ruins of buildings that were once part of the cityscape of Rome itself. Now only the barest reminders of its splendor, and tapered off under the jurisdiction of Tourist shops.
Most of the people who now walked the yellow cobbled road had been here on vacation heading towards the Catacombs of San Callisto, and getting a rather bad news telling them that they had been closed off due to the murder scene. The Catacombs were after all one of the largest Christian tourist spots in the world, second to only the wall of Jericho. Lucky for most of the tourists there were two catacomb chambers on this particular street, San Callisto as well as San Sabastiano. Of course the trio headed by a green garbed archer needed to get to the crime scene, and did not want to view the catacombs of San Sabastiano.
“Look I’m telling you, we need to get down there,” Eddie Flyers spoke to two Roman police officers- which stood guard at the taped off entrance to the Catacombs. The two men stood silent in their deep blue and white uniforms. Both men containing the same rough face even despite the noise usurping around the gigantic stone carved buildings that surrounded them. In Italy everything seemed large. The way that the police officers towered over Eddie, Green Arrow and Crackshot proved that went for their police as well.
“Mister Flyers, you are not going to be given admittance. The only way you’d be able to gain entrance is if…” the police officer to the right turned to view the Emerald Archer standing behind Flyers, “… Your friend Green Arrow here was a member of JLA, and even then we’d have to okay it through various channels. As not even the JLA have jurisdiction here in this particular case.”
Crackshot turned to look at Eddie and then to the police officers. Her usual smile had been transformed into a beguiling grimace the moment they had first told them no. “Look, Eddie its fine. It’s apparent that they do not care, that my father could be dead down there. We should just go.”
Eddie’s whole body turned around as he heard the blond gunner’s sudden outburst. “Look Crackshot, we didn’t come all the way down here just to be told to go home. There’s a lot at stake here and I’ll be damned if I let two cock-eyed, assholes keep us from getting in there and protecting some lives.”
“Sir.. Mr. Flyers, we have our orders, and if you do no not want to be taken into custody-“
“No officer, we’ll be going right now, right Eddie?” Green Arrow spoke up from his otherwise silent manner.
“Yeah we’re going,” Eddie grumbled. The man’s thick skull turned to give the archer a grimace as he turned his back to the police officer. The police officer’s face did not change however and his hand still rested on the butt of the gun that hung on his side. Crackshot’s bright eyes watched the police officer, for a few moments before turning, she could feel her own palms itching, wanting to take some of her anger out on the officer that stood there with a sneer.
Green Arrow seemed to be the only one without some sort of pissed off look on his face. His hands were clinched into loose fists across his back. The bow he wore seemed to be decoration at best from the look of his stance. However if one with competent martial arts knowledge would detect the barest of muscles tensed along his shoulders and the balance that shifted across his heels that he could have moved into a defensive motion before any of the police officers or his friends blinked an eye. Even in the short time he’d carried the mantle of Green Arrow, he’d learned to always be on his guard. That lesson in itself was a tough one to get over.
Silently the threesome of Green Arrow, Crackshot, and Eddie Flyers, walked from the entrance. Each one of them not even looking at the other as their bodies drifted back into the crowd of tourists and workers who loitered over the ancient Roman road. It was not until they had made it out of hearing distance of the entrance to the Catacombs that Eddie finally tuned his skull towards the silent archer. “So we are just packing up and going home? Didn’t Ollie teach you anything, kid?”
“We’re not going home Eddie,” Green Arrow informed him a smile shrouding over his plain demeanor. “Sometimes the wisest action, is not to strike futility.”
“What, more of that Buddhist crap? We could have taken those guys easily,” Eddie barked. “Yes, we probably could have, but I’m sure we’d get nowhere taking on the entire Roman Police Force,” Green Arrow replied calmly. “There is often more than one solution to any obstacle”“What, like a back door in? I doubt the ancient Romans had fire escapes.”
“Actually…” Crackshot began as her eyes narrowed on Eddie, “the Catacombs are under the streets.”
“Yeah and if Superman were here he could bust a hole in the street. But need I remind you, Superman isn’t here.”
“You don’t know much about history do you, Eddie?” Green Arrow replied.
“During the days of the Roman Empire, before they actually agreed in the whole Christian thing, they would kill the Christians. Being a Christian was outlawed. So the Christians would hide in these tombs. There were many different paths to get to the catacombs.”
“But most of them have been sealed,” Crackshot chimed in.
“But they couldn’t have gotten all of them,” Green Arrow informed her.
“How would we know which ones were sealed? If they didn’t get some, they couldn’t be on any map… destroyed most likely. I’d assume they were very competent on this. I mean this is one of Rome’s largest attractions.”
“Actually I think the kid might be on to something. How about you kids go do some sight seeing? And I’ll see what I can dig up on these catacombs. If there’s another way in we’ll find it.”
“Well I guess we could do some investigating on our own.” Green Arrow shrugged his shoulders, not feeling too comfortable about being alone with Crackshot. If anything the blush that found its way across his once mocha colored cheeks was definitely an indication.
Catacombs
Appia Way, Rome
The installed lights along the human made caverns left much to be desired, in terms of lighting. Deep shadows loomed like ink smudges over the rocky faces. The narrow corridor was of course better off with no lighting, as if one looked too closely at the rectangle slits cut out from the mammoth walls, or even looked closely at the floor, they would see human remains. That is what the Catacombs were; a place for ancient Christians to bury the dead. This led to too many questions however, like why a secret metal working process had been found here of all places. This had been where people hid from the Romans.
Collected water splashed over the ancient trail, as Hatchet lead a group of well-armed men towards the crime scene, which lay towards the end of the walkway. A fuchsia colored light trailed in front of the parade’s march, coming from a large lantern, which floated by a large energy string from the villain’s fist. The men walked in silence as they followed their armored leader, bits of bone crushing beneath their heels. Most of the men were more or less trying to battle the musty smell of ancient decay with each breath they took. Tried to not think about how these chambers housed more corpses than they had seen in their lives. Each member of the convoy was straight faced determined and ready to take down anything. They had all seen first hand the strength of the Super Hero known as Green Arrow, and Crackshot. How easily they took down their forces as well as their boss. Most of them still thought the twosome invincible. Invincible in a day and age where, women took to the sky with giant wings, and men ran faster than time… they thought an ex-monk, and an ex-gunrunner was invincible. But they managed to not kill, even one of their number. Three were wounded, however but definitely not the same thing. Each of them held their guns tightly, sure to prove their worth. It was after all, quite an offer Armitage made to the one who took down this new Green Arrow.
Hatchet came to a stop at the yellow ticker tape that laced around the end of the tunnel. The installed lights had been succumbed, to the light kits that the Roman police department had installed, lighting up the large square quite completely. Many of the men who stood behind Hatchet were thankful of their sunglasses. Hatchet himself looked at the police officers and detectives who turned to look at the villain-the pink lantern he had constructed dissolving in thin air.
Two of the white and blue uniformed men walked from the huddle of a dozen or so similarly dressed officers. Two police officers felt their heartbeats race as they eyed the crimson and gold armored man who towered over them. The two officers exchanged looks shrugging to one another, before one finally spoke. “Hatchet, I presume. We have been expecting you. And for one, we want to thank you for taking the time to help out with this case,” the police officer offered under the shaggy black moustache that arched down the sides of his chin. Both he and the other police officer, who stood shoulder to shoulder with him, looked at each other again before sliding their hats from the skulls. Both of them offered smiles, covering up their real feelings. Hatchet himself had been briefed by Milo, about his donation to the Italian police department, in terms with full compliance with his two agents. Of course the police officers didn’t much like working with a known murderer like, Hatchet.
The visor masked villain nodded his head spreading his own smile. Shimmering ivory teeth beckoned out from behind his soft pink lips and square jaw line. “Just tell me what you have so far. Any indication where Jennings could have went, or where the documents he had on his person went?”
“Oh right to the chase, all right… uh Hatchet?” The police officer offered continuing to smile with the continued worrying glances to his partner. “How about some tea, we can go over what we know. But I’m afraid there isn’t much at this time, sir.”
Hatchet’s smile faded to a dark grimace as he heard the words he didn’t want to hear. The Scarlet covered fists balled up, his knuckles stretching through the spandex, Kevlar mesh with a squeak. “I was told your police department was competent,” Hatched growled. “I was told you had some sense of self preservation as well. I can see I was misinformed.”
The police officer’s eyes did not look at his partner this time. Instead his eyes stayed fascinated to the visor covered face of the villain. His hand however began to creep close to the butt of his gun. “There is no indication that he survived the initial encounter with the five assailants. Really all we have to go on was the charred ground we found, silhouetting his body, and the blood trail that lead to this location.” The officer explained his voice shaken and not higher in pitch than it was before. “From what we have here, his body may have incinerated. But we found no body matter to indicate such an event. We’ve had out best looking for any indication that he is either alive or dead. But thus far we are unsure. It was like he just vanished.”
“Just vanished?” Hatchet asked, his voice breaking the tenor of his previous volume, “So someone might have got to him first, teleportation technology is not uncommon.” The villain didn’t like this. If Crackshot teamed up with Green Arrow and told him everything, he could have easily contacted the Justice League of America, and they did have that sort of technology.
“Well we did some rudimentary scans for Ionization in the air but got no reading, and your partner, Sonar… did some scans-- before he left to further analyze the bodies of the other five victims-and reported no traces of teleportation equipment. At least that he knew of.”
“Armitage called in Sonar?” Hatchet frowned, “I see. Anything else you can tell me?”
“Well there was something peculiar; there is this vent inside the scorched outline of Mr. Jennings. It had bits of his skin and a large amount of blood. We assumed it was some sort of security measure. And judging by the way the other five men were left, it may have triggered some sort of ancient security system.”
“Then perhaps someone should recreate, Mr. Jennings’ last moments. Perhaps that will give us some clue as to where Jennings’ body is, and the document he had on his person.”
City Streets
Rome, Italy
The streets appeared to always be crowded, in Rome. During the afternoon, it appeared even more so. Hundreds of tourists walking the cobble stone sidewalks taking in the various structures that were once well crafted buildings in ancient times. Even though most of them were only slabs of concrete, or missing three out of four of the walls, tourists still pointed them out, most able to name what the buildings formerly were (with the help of their guide books of course). Though, even with the crowded street, the blond haired archer seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. Tourists stopping to stare as he walked through over the side walk with Crackshot, catching just as many eyes as the buildings.
Green Arrow originally wanted to try to stake out the area around the catacombs to see if he could figure out what was going on. Perhaps he himself could come across some sort of hidden way in. Though, Crackshot convinced him that Eddie, would get that done, and that the two of them should take in some sites-it was however obvious what ‘Sights’ Crackshot wanted to take in.
The two of them had decided to check out the city, Green Arrow wanting to head to the police station and see if he could find out any information from the source. However, they didn’t get to close too the police station when they were hit with mobs of people all wanting to meet the Emerald Archer. They were quickly surrounded by a crowd all forcing signature books at him. “Make this one out to Carol?” one woman spoke thrusting another book at the boy’s chest. Green Arrow sighed as he opened yet another book and jotted his name into the blank.
“Look I am sorry, we are here on official business,” Green Arrow spoke up to the crowd. “I do apologize but you all should get back to your vacations.” “Justice League business?” one of the women said, a great smile casting over her scarlet painted lips.“No I’m not in the Jus-“
“Yes, Justice League business,” Crackshot cut in her body thrusting in front of the archer’s, her back sliding over Green Arrow’s chest. “So, if you all would be so kind as to leave.”
Green Arrow’s head quickly darted to the left. His eyes narrowed as from the alleyway a few yards ahead a group of men suddenly emerged advancing towards them. The boy stayed quiet as he watched them, ignoring the rumbling of pleads and anger coming from the crowd Crackshot was dispersing. “Crackshot I think we have company,” Green Arrow whispered.
The seven men drew guns almost in unison, as they neared the archer and former-assassin. Green Arrow shifted his body forward pushing Crackshot down, as bullets bounced off the building walls, flying over head. “Take them down!” One voice was heard over the gunshots.
Green Arrow rolled off of Crackshot, his legs bending, his heels catching pavement; his hand reaching across the smooth wooden handle of his bow. His body lunged upwards against the wall as another volley of bullets were shot impacting the concrete. His hand pulled free an arrow and notched it in the bowstring. His eyes surveyed the scene watching for Crackshot who too had rolled to a spare wall. He watched her another moment as her lithe hand was plucking guns from her belt. Finally seeing her free from targeting range he brought the bow forward taking only a moment to aim, before her let the arrow go. The emerald arrow flew at speeds to rival the bullets. The first arrow struck one of the gunmen’s hands. He had readied a second and moved from the wall. His body ran in a forward arch as the bullets flew around him. Studying archery was more than just knowing how to aim and fire an arrow, these men soon learned it was also a lesson of how to not become a target yourself. His zigzagging movements-- as he ran across the street-- showed this lesson in a most brutal fashion. The bowstring sung as the second arrow was released hitting the shoulder of another of the gunmen. Pulling out a third arrow from his quiver he went into a rolling dive as the remaining five gunmen continued aiming at the green, would-be target. “Crackshot what are you waiting for?” Green Arrow yelled as he let go of the arrow.
“Oh you want me to jump in, Arrow? Why didn’t you just say so, handsome?” Crackshot smiled, her body pulled from the wall holding both guns outward and shot at the remaining gunners in a loud blaze.
“No fatalities, Crackshot! Only shoot to disarm!” Green Arrow mentioned, his back finding another wall; he took in a few breaths quickly.
“Ruin all my fun, Arrow.” Crackshot smiled as she slid back behind the wall to reload her clips. Two of the men shouted in pain as there guns were dropped.
“You might want to try aiming next time as well.” Green Arrow smiled
“I can barely see-- I don’t know how you are managing to hit them.”
“Well I did learn from the best.” The boy smiled. The bullets continued to impact the walls around them. Bits of concrete crumbled away landing on his face and hair. “But one should learn to use all the senses.”
“If there’s one thing I don’t need, Arrow, it’s lessons,” Crackshot grumbled as she snapped the clips into place.
“Good!” Green Arrow responded. His hand plucked another arrow from his quiver and notched it to his bow. His green eyes turned to Crackshot who had brought her guns up against her shoulders. “I’ll need some cover!” And without hesitation, the archer took off from the wall dashing towards the remaining three gunners. Bullets sang through the air as he ran towards the men, despite running in a zagging pattern he was also counting to himself. Waiting to get the distance to make his move, he needed to draw their fire once he got close enough, where aim wasn’t that important.
The archer brought the bow up, taking a moment to shift his weight to the left as he aimed and let the bowstring go. The arrow sang through the air. As Green Arrow brought the bow back to his chest he darted forward into a summersault. The metal arrowhead collided with the base of a gun sending one of the men back, due more to shock, than impact. The gun clattered to the ground as the archer landed on his haunches. The two, remaining gunners turned to aim at the archer.“Forget about someone?” Crackshot smiled as she brought her guns forward unloading at the remaining two gunners. The shock in concentration… the hesitation was what Green Arrow needed lunging forward he brought his bow forward impacting the chests of the two gunners. The gunners grunted in unison as they fell hard on the ground.
Green Arrow got to his feet, sliding the smooth wooden bow back over his shoulders. “Now who can tell me what is going on here?” One of the gunners slowly crawled towards one of the pistols. His hand reaching out, “Please I’d rather not see any more violence today.”
“That’s really a shame!” came a voice from his left. The sound waves emitting from the voice boomed at decibels that caused Green Arrow’s ears to ring. He turned to look towards the sounds as a single man walked from the alleyway. A large red haired man stood, his Italian-cut tuxedo showed only some of the briefest shimmering metal that had replaced his skin. The square jaw exposed a smile over his chiseled features, short red hair combed over his massive brow.
“But I’ll tell you what, kid. You’ll only see one more act of violence today.”
Green Arrow took a step back, his arms sliding across his back. The green masked face tilted up at the comer. “If only I was so lucky,” the boy said to the man. “Just explain yourself, and we can all walk away. There is no fight here.”
“No, there’s not…More of a massacre really.” Sonar smiled, his large face tilting down to meet the archer’s eyes. “Funny, thing is a guy like you claiming to not want to see violence, after you mop the floor with my men. I will say that I’ve never seen a Pacifist who fights like you. Then again I never saw a Pacifist fight at all. Sort of what being a Pacifist is, not fighting?” The two mammoth hands collided into each other.
“There are many forms of Pacifism,” Green Arrow replied, “Active Pacifism is where a Pacifist puts up arms to stop more violence and death. Like when the Tibetans took up arms against the Chinese. There is no choice sometimes, but right now we have a choice. But if you endanger me or others… I will lose that choice.”
“Oh right, like right now, you could turn tail and run. But then I’d not get what I came here for.” Sonar’s large fists began to flicker a shimmering red. The power popping against the air as he continued, “hmm... yeah I guess you don’t have much of a choice. You could however make this easy for me!” The twin fists swung downwards his knees bending as the fists hit pavement. The ground vibrated as cracks ran across the asphalt, the road cracked and splintered as the road split apart. The vibrations exploded right in front of Green Arrow.
The rock shot up with a velocity that left little to be imagined. The hero quickly bent his body backwards his legs leaving the ground, his body turning about, using his hands to finish the complete hand spring. The area he was standing at exploded in a torrent of large chunks or rock. Bits of the warm tar and rock beaded across the ex-monk’s face; an area of the street wrecked in one devastating attack.
Green Arrow counted his blessings that because of the previous fire fight the street was isolated; hopefully no one would get in the way of this fight. With a guy like Sonar, he knew things could get deadly. “I see my step-father isn’t pulling any punches,” Green Arrow mentioned as he drew an arrow from his quiver. “Crackshot, I need you to find Eddie. This has gotten a lot more dangerous,” the boy mentioned
“You got that right, a hell of a lot more dangerous,” Sonar growled as he stepped towards the archer, his hands still cracking with the energy that continued to cause the archer’s ears to ring.
“Ain’t no way I’m leaving you with this nut job,” Crackshot shouted, her fingers unlatching a smoke pellet from her belt. “Lucky for you, I don’t live for mantras like ‘without suffering there is no life’ or enjoy being smeared by what ever the hell this guys’ name is.”
“I AM SONAR!” the villain roared, yet he did not look at the woman. His attention was only on the archer. His large hands were brought up; the fists uncurled as crimson waves expelled from his fists. Green Arrow shifted his weight; body diving as the rings tore into the building that once lay behind the once-monk.
The windows shattered instantly, sending glass showering over the street. Pieces of rock and concrete fell away from the building, as hairline cracks raced up the building. The hero’s head turned as he heard the squealing of support beams from the interior of the building. “NO!” Green Arrow called out, as the building’s support gave way, the top of the building slamming into the bottom layers crashing on top of itself like a crushed aluminum can. Green Arrow had little time to react. The building sent large chunks of concrete onto the ground. The hero dove forward his palms hitting the ground as he dodged the falling rocks, his years of martial arts training showing as he hand flipped across the broken asphalt.Crackshot’s eyes turned from the dodging Green Arrow despite her worry. The sonic powers of Sonar causing her to hear little more than a constant buzzing, her field of view was mostly clouded due to all the rocks and dust in the air. She tried to ignore the constant thumping in her chest. She’d been against Metas before- this wasn’t any different. The handles of her twin Berettas eased against her warm palms as she aimed into the dust, knowing it was mostly a guess at best. She squeezed the triggers twice. The gun’s handles vibrated against her hands as she fired.
The bullets sang through the air quick with little discursion or mercy. The sound caught Sonar unaware as he looked up at the sound only to feel two of the bullets hit his left arm. One of them sunk into his shoulder hitting the metal attachment to his neck. The second hit his forearm, the pain sending chills across what flesh he had left on his body. “You’ve signed your death certificate!” Sonar growled as he brought his arm upwards, the blood running down his elbow. His fist clinched as the shimmering sonic aura returned to his fist the bullets that were entered shot out at amazing speed back through the dust and fog.
“Forgetting about someone?” Green Arrow smiled. His costume had been torn and ripped exposing the mocha flesh on his stomach and upper torso. He notched the arrow back across the bow string, the shimmering green arrow head pointed right at him. “You have done your share of murder. I no longer care…” The boy huffed, his body bowing as he felt the burn of fatigue. The boy let the arrow go, the wooden shaft whizzing through the air straight for the villain.
The villain turned as the words spilled out of Green Arrow’s lips, he saw the arrow leave the string, and brought up his hand to emit another wave of sonic power when the arrow slid through his palm. A canal of blood dripped down from his hand as the villain winced.
Crackshot saw the change in the villain as the arrow had struck. Unlike her bullets he had warning, but he couldn’t stop it. The questions of why didn’t strike her. Instead she ran towards Green Arrow and Sonar, unsure what she’d be able to do, but she had a feeling things were just starting to heat up. Her legs bowed and ankles bent as her foot falls ran over the broken street. The rocks and glass were the last things on her mind however. She couldn’t let Green Arrow take this guy on alone. She could feel the new feeling of protection fueling her sprint. Had it been because of her father, or was there something else? Other emotions she’s kept buried for so long.
Green Arrow held his ground the bow still gripped hard into his hand. A new arrow was now notched and drawn. The boy watched the large red haired alien as he growled and tensed. Sonar’s face was alive with the lines of stress, beads of sweat dripping off his square jaw. Suddenly the arrow shot from his hand. Towards Green Arrow, singing thought the air. The archer moved his neck as the arrow passed over his shoulder. “This might be more of a challenge than I thought.” Sonar grinned flexing his hand as blood dripped between his fingers. “Let’s kick this up a notch.” The mammoth villain let his fists glow once again as he lunged his body at the archer.
Green Arrow sunk to his haunches and let the arrow go in a matter of breaths. The arrow moved in a 90 degree slant then slipping between the moving legs of the villain, not unlike a stick in a tire’s spokes. The villain felt the pressure in his front leg as he lost his balance, his body falling forward… face kissing concrete in a sudden impact.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Green Arrow said.
“Don’t be so sure,” Sonar spat as he pulled himself from the ground. His eyes glowing with the crimson sonic energy that resided inside him, “You’ll find that nothing works. I’ll keep coming and coming…” Green Arrow’s eyes watched as a small blurring dart whizzed past him, causing the hero to step back. “…until one of us is… dead,” Sonar’s head smacked into the pavement again, a small tranquilizer dart lodged into the base of his neck.
“Good shot,” Green Arrow said as he looked over at Crackshot, stepping from the fog. Her hair stuck to her wet face, and her tank top clunk against her modest chest.
“I knew this one would come in handy.” She smiled presenting the smoking dart gun.
“No complaints here.” Green Arrow smiled.
Caesar’s Diner
Appia way
There were a few drifters vacating a few of the booths, some had actually come for lunch, others had appeared to just want a place to sit down. And one in particular needed a good place to sit and use a cell phone, and wireless Internet connection. A nice place where he’d not be detected as Eddie “Ironhorse” Flyers, and where he could be semi-assured not to have any eave droppers who might patch him into Armitage or whoever was behind this. As a former spy for the US government, if Flyers knew one thing, it was where the best public places to do the business were. One could say Flyers had an eye for this sort of place.
The deeply tanned, yet rugged mustached face of Eddie was lit by the back light of the laptop he now looked at. The monitor’s screen easily reflected off the thick glasses the ex-expediter wore. His thick wavy brunette hair had been pulled back by the earpiece and mike that looped about his scalp, his fingers tracing speedily over the keyboard. “So, Squire got anything for me? I don’t have all day. My clients are probably already neck deep in it.” Eddie spoke in his deeply hoarse voice, into the mike that hovered over his jaw line.
--I’m digging as fast as I can here, Flyers.-- The high pitched voice of the man called Squire spoke over the two channel conference. --It isn’t like ancient hide outs had the best mapping facilities.--
“Look, this a big favor you’re doing and I appreciate it. I just have this feeling the kid is over his head this time,” Flyers responded. “So I don’t got time to burn.”
--Just a moment here…. -- the voice spoke into the intercom, followed by a ruffling of pages. -here it is, I knew I had it. This is probably rarer than a copy of the Dead Sea Scrolls. -- Squire said
“The unabridged version or the books on tape one?” Iron horse smiled.
--You’re a real smug bitch you know that man?-- Squire spoke followed by some typing of his keyboard.. -now if I just lay one of these images on top of the other, and do a quick search… and voila… Looks like there are three entrances available to you. One appears to be under a department store, one is in the sewer system… and… ahh… well that’s interesting…--
Flyer’s expression changed… “What’s interesting?”
--It seems the American Embassy is located on one of them.--
“Hmm. Well that makes some sense.” Flyers clicked on the icon for his FTP program and quickly began to fill in the address lines and password information. “Can you send that map to me? Like I said, time isn’t on my side.”
--yeah I’m uploading it to the server now.-Squire posed… --So do you think Wild Bill is actually dead, man?-
“He’s up against Armitage so it’s a tough hill to climb. But I’d not count Wild Bill out just yet. He comes from the Old School”
--Old School, man Eddie… you been hanging around the kid to long-
“Just send the goddamn file...”Next Issue: Things really heat up in Rome, as Green Arrow, Crackshot, and Flyers finally make their way to the Catacombs. But once inside… well you won’t believe it ‘til you read it.
Story © 2004 Jae Lizhini and may not be reproduced without permission.