Green Arrow felt the warmth of the sun striking against his face.  His eyes flickered open as he balled his fist up from the muddy ground.  The long grasses seemed to be a constant, as his eyes looked through the mask that was tied across his face. The field of greens ran into the distance, where only the brief silhouettes of a large wall loomed overhead.  His bow lay only inches away from his hand, his arrows were strewn around the bow, smashing some of the long blades of grass with their weight.  He leaned up to his knees as he let out a long breath.  His ribs moved painfully across his stomach. The ribs were originally broken in Japan, and after his battles in Rome, they were re-broken.  He knew he needed time to heal.  But here where ever here was… he felt a strange sense of peace.  The tranquility inspired over his senses momentarily.

    “Have a nice nap?” Hatchet spat from behind him.  Green Arrow could hear the movements his metal boots gave off across the long grasses.  Yet he did not move where he was sitting.  Yet his arms did tense up ever so slightly.

    “Do you have any idea where we are?” Green Arrow asked.

    “I’d assume this is where Jennings disappeared to,”  Hatchet said.  “Along with my man Jones, and the homicide detective.”

    “But no idea where here is.”

    “No,”  Hatchet told the archer, “But judging by our current predicament, I’m going to let you live for the moment.  But once we find Jenninings, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

    “I figured as much, you are too cowardly to be by yourself in unfamiliar territory.”

    Hatchet raised his left hand up, his fist circling in a crackle of his pink energy; a large bazooka hovered above him tilting down at the hero.  “A coward?” Hatchet asked, “If you want to die right now, I’d be happy to oblige you.”

    Green Arrow let a smile craft across his face, yet still he did not move.  Internally the young man was remembering that peace was always a better ally than war.  He knew that working with a man who had tried to kill him on numerous occasions would in fact help with his battle inside... Ease his heart, and reacquaint him with the teachings he’d lost.  Perhaps it was the will of his spirit.  “We’ve done enough fighting, and a man needs my help.  Let us go together.  When the time comes I will stop you from taking Jennings life and his treasure.”

    “Then it is agreed,” Hatchet had said with a stern expression.  The weapon that stood floating there, tilting down at the archer evaporated in flash of energy. “I had a feeling you would wise up.  At least prolonging your life for a little while longer.”

    “Sure, Hatchet,” Green Arrow murmured.  “Something like that.”

The Emerald Archer...


"A Funny Thing Happened..."

(...On My Way through the Catacombs.)
Green Arrow #9- June, Year 2 by Jae Lizhini

The Holy Roman Empire…
Between Time and Reality…

    Detective Montello had tried to pinch herself many times as she was carried on horseback through the cobble stone streets, of what could only be the capital city of Rome.  High over the small shops that decorated the street fronts with wares, displayed on great metal racks, she could make out large buildings in the distance with gigantic scooping arches, and off to her right, she’d have sworn that the spherical stone structure was the iconic Roman Coliseum.

    The soldier stayed silent as the mare trotted through the streets of the ancient citadel.  The only sounds the detective could hear were the sentry of horse hooves behind her.  One of the soldiers carried Jones-- the henchman of the villain Hatchet.  The detective tried to catch glimpses of the deep brown and black stores and the locals who walked the streets- yet the horse buzzed them by in deep unsatisfying blurs. A part of her was excited to be in this place, she assumed was the Roman Empire-- despite how illogical that had to be, yet the other part of her wondered what would happen to her and Jones.  They were after all outsiders.  Perhaps her Italian blood could convince them of who she was.  She did after all remember reading that Julius Caesar was soft for the women. But she had no idea who the emperor was.  She would try her best to convince them.  She did not however want to be executed.  If her history served her well, outsiders were not welcome with open arms.  This after all would explain the hand cuffs.

    The guard led them through the city streets through a grand golden gate, and onward towards a building that sat around a set of rolling hills, that immolated an exotic green.  The building was large standing many times higher than the great hills that enclosed it.  It looked unlike anything else she’d seen yet, its shimmering white stone husk, definitely counteracted anything, she’d seen yet.  A great fountain sat in front of the building leading up to a grand marble set of steps that led to the mount of the building imprisoned by a series of nine large stone pillars.

    The guard came to a stop at the edge of the large marble steps.  The other horses formed a large “U” shape from where her escort had stopped.  Without much of a hesitation, the soldier dismounted and with his large muscular arms grabbed and pulled her from her seat.  Her shoes vibrated painfully as her body was brought down hard on the cobble stone.  The soldier held her stone fast, as the other soldiers followed suit and dismounted.  Jones like her was held tightly in one of the soldier’s hands.  <You will greet the grand Mystic, and ruler of our lands.  It is she who will tell what to do with you outsiders.> The soldier spoke as he pushed Mori forward.
   
“She?  Shit.”  The detective cursed to herself as the soldier led her up the great steps.  She turned her head only to make sure that, Jones would be coming with her.  Perhaps she could barter her way out of this yet.  She could feel the gulp in her throat as she walked across the final steps and strode between the great stone pillars that blocked the entrance to this… Roman Forum.

    The exposed entrance to the forum lay just past the large stone pillars as a large rectangular cut inside the very building--the stone building.  The doorway itself had to have been twenty feet high.  Though Mori couldn’t draw her eyes from what she saw through the doorway.  She and Jones were led in front of the century of troops who pushed them along the violent red carpet that snaked into the forums.  The place itself appeared to be just one room, decorated in a deep yellow marble.  The walls and floor were void of much in terms of decoration, but what was there spoke volumes.  Three large statues lay across the large floor.  Two were out of sight for the detective, but the one she did see looked to be an image of Jesus Christ replicated like Michelangelo’s David.  There were also vines of grapes garnishing one wall, and right below that a fountain sat gushing water from its stone nozzle.  The illumining of the room struck her as odd, however as she saw no sources of light-- however the place was almost blindingly brilliant… allowing her to see first hand the one who would judge her fate.  The Mystic and her acolytes who sat near the center of the room-- the throne of the Mystic was sat up on a stoop, the others sat below the throne in a large round wooden table, not too unlike how she would envision the senate of the Roman Empire.

    Jones and the Detective were led to a stop towards the table and more so the throne of the one, whom until now was only titled the Mystic.  Detective Mori Montello brought her head upwards as she met eyes with the woman who sat in the throne-- and instantly her head became ablaze with the unscrupulous beauty the mystic demonstrated.  The blond hair spilled across her nimble shoulders as her subtle face tilted to match the detective’s gaze.  The smooth pale complexion seemed to glow in comparison to the dim green eyes, as the Mystic watched the detective for a long span of moments.  Her gaze then did turn to Jones, the same enamored look appearing in his gaze, even as he took a moment to scroll down her body watching how the Mystic’s fit, yet lean body stretched over the silk robes she wore, reflecting in soft hues of purple and pink.  “I see,” she said in English. “You two are from the outside, judging by your clothes, you came after the other one.  The fabled chosen one,” she spoke.

    “Do you mean Jennings?” the detective asked in rapport.

    “He said his name was… Wild Bill,” the Mystic said

    “Then yes we did come looking for him.  If you can show us to him then we can be on our way,” the Detective spoke.

    “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to threaten his pilgrimage.  If he is the chosen one, as he told us then he will put an end to this dreadful world, and we can finally all be free.  If not... well the goddess will silence him permanently.”
 
The Catacombs
Rome, Italy

    “ARROW!”  Crackshot screamed again as she walked back to the empty corridor where Green Arrow and Hatchet had fought less than an hour before hand.  Eddie Flyers leaned against the wall near the gaping hole that Hatchet had created.  The hole that was used to surprise them, and later the same hole that Green Arrow had to throw himself and the energy manipulating villain… the last place either of them had seen him.

    “He’s not here,” Flyers grumbled as he pulled himself from the wall.  “You are just kidding yerself.  Where ever he and Hatchet went is the same place I’d assume Wild Bill used as a hiding space.  You saw the light, and the laser show, same as me.  They were definitely teleported.”

    “But where?” Crackshot asked; her hands clasped to her chest.  Up until now she didn’t much notice how much she was depending on the skills of Green Arrow and Flyers to find her father… a year ago she’d have not acted so hysterical… a year ago she never would have even considered getting anyone for help, especially a man she would love to have her way with and a walking legend.  Things had changed now, and she knew she didn’t much care for it.  After this was over she would need to get her head on straight… put things into perspective… get on with her life-- preferably with her father.

    “Hell if I know… damn,”  Flyers said.  “But judging by all those burn spots in the floor there, I’d be one to assume, that the device that spirited them away, been here quite a while.”  He bent his body as he walked through the break away in the wall.  “I’ve seen a lot of stuff, things that make ya question where we are in technology today… Egypt with their alien gizmos, ancient Dark Ages shrines with hermetic rocks and symbols.”  He paused smiling, “and well once me and Connor stumbled across an old city, in a frozen tundra in China. So I ain’t putting anything to chance…”

    “So what, you are not even going to try?” Crackshot said as she looked at the large man.  “It was stupid for me to even get you all mixed up in this.  This was my problem, and now Arrow and my father have been teleported god knows where… or were zapped into nothing but a black smug on the floor.”  She sighed.  “Its funny Eddie, ya know?  I use to be -fucking- Crackshot.  One of the best guns in the San Francisco crime scene… now look at me.  Losing my cool, cause some goddamn hero managed to get himself teleported.”

    “There’s more than you depending on the kid to get yer daddy.  I might be an old man, but I know a bit about the fairer sex.”  He grinned, “I was after all, an agent for the Central Intelligence Agency, and if there’s one thing I know is that women… specially women like you are not so dependent on guys like me and Connor, less you want to be.  Let us feel a little special, because it makes you feel good.  Truth is, sure looking at the game field here with both Hatchet and Sonar out here-- it looks a bit much like you need the kid here.  But trust me... you can handle yourself in a fight well enough.  You just want an excuse to be around Connor.”

    Crackshot smiled as she threw a fist at Ironhorse’s shoulder.  “You sound like an old Betty!”  She smiled, “And actually you might be just a little right.”
   
    Flyers waked across the floor of the catacomb where there had once been a whole legion of bodies.  However now there had been nothing more than half melted corpses.  His bespectacled gaze looked at the silhouettes of burnt residue, his eyes studying them carefully.  “A woman,” he said silently as he looked at the thin curves of the waist of the silhouette that was left by Montello.  He continued to study the shapes, next coming to a strange angular shape with points and a square shape to it… “Hatchet.”  He continued to study seeing the shape of the man holding the bow… “The Kid…”

    “Eddie…” Crackshot made a simple noise behind him as he continued to survey the area around the main corridor of the catacombs.  “Eddie…” she said a second time, a bit of nervousness in her voice.  It was the sound of the locking of a chamber that caused Flyers to finally look up.

    “What is it?”  Flyers asked turning around to Crackshot’s body being catapulted through the hole, her body glowing in a strange red aura.  His ears began to ring.  Eddie Flyers lunged forward as his arms lifted upwards.  He dove; her body impacted his chest hard as he absorbed some of the impact.  His teeth rattled as her skull hit his chin.

    “That,” Crackshot said limply as she regained her footing.  Flyers watched the whole in the wall as a large man walked through the hole.  The body was silhouetted except for the glow of LED lights that circulated around metallic body parts.

    “Oh crap,” Eddie spat as he leaned forward drawing his firearm.  The ex-CIA expeditor watched as the large man walked fully into the room, the red haired man smiling despite the deep bruises on his face, and swollen lips.  “You must be the new Sonar fella,” he spoke, his aim trained on the man.

    “My reputation precedes me.”  Sonar’s voice echoed in a sonic shrill.  “You must be THE Eddie Flyers.  I’ve heard about you as well.”  He smiled.  “My father spoke highly of your skills.  But I’m not my father.”  Sonar’s fist glowed with the sonic energy’s intensity, before flinging a series or red rings towards Flyers and Crackshot.

    Flyers pushed Crackshot forward as he dived to the ground.  The sonic energy impacted the wall behind them.  Stone crumbled deafly to the concrete floor.  “You have got to be kidding me.” Flyers sighed.


The Glades of Rome..
Between Time and Reality…

    In his short time, playing the role of Green Arrow, Connor Hawke had seen things he’d found unbelievable.  His mother marrying an illegal arms dealer, Batman telling him he fought well, a Shangri-La in the frozen tundra of Beijing, twins who fused together as a whole, not to mention his father dying to save the city of Metropolis, leaving Superman to carry the burden and loss of a friend.  But despite all he had seen, he never would have imagined he would be looking at the walls of the Roman Empire, traveling with Hatchet-- a man who had tried to kill him on multiple occasions.

    The wall itself didn’t appear to be anything special, simple yellowish tan lime stone that stretched across the great city that hid around the lavished landscape of Italy. Yet he couldn’t help but note past the traditional Roman structures like the coliseum and aqueducts, that there were a series of rolling hills seeming off in the distance, and a lone square building situated behind those hills.  He didn’t recall that feature in any history books.  As the two adversaries met the metal gate that stood closed with deep grey bars choked together in a frame work of gridlock, Green Arrow stopped, and Hatchet came to a stop not soon after.  Both Hatchet and Green Arrow stayed looking through the gate at the strangely colored Rome diorama--however their staring didn’t last for long. 

    “Quisnam agito ibi?” a voice called out from the gate.  The voice was accompanied by the shift and rattle of metal armor as three Roman soldiers converged towards the gate.  All three of the soldiers looked at the two bizarrely dressed men through the metal gates, their square shaped metallic helmets pointed at the archer and assassin.

    Hatchet turned to Green Arrow, in a rapid snap, the black spandex that covered the man’s neck squeaking as muscles and bones moved.  “I don’t suppose you know what they are saying?” Hatchet asked, down right sure that the boy didn’t speak Latin.

    “I think he says, ‘who is here’ but I am not really that good with Latin,” Green Arrow informed Hatchet in a side way glance.  Even as they spoke the soldier looked at them both with an unhappy reflection.

    “What should we say…” Hatchet thought to himself--barely loud enough for Connor to hear him.

    “I have an idea,” Green Arrow spoke, a smile on his face.  “Mei dico Green Arrow, mei actius Hatchet.  Mei agito aquestio ai ... uh externius actius.”  Green Arrow’s face looked contorted as he tried desperately to remember the Latin, which Master Jensen had taught him.

    “What do you tell them?” Hatchet asked desperately.

    “I think I said we are Green Arrow and Hatchet, and we’re looking for a friend from the outside like us.”

    The guards looked at the two men, through their square shaped helmets.  There was a silence that appeared to cast between each of the guards-- before their shoulders grinded unexpectedly.  Their faces all snapped into expressions of shock and horror before Hatchet and Green Arrow.  “Extermius?!  Ida nos!” the guard who seemed to be in charge of the rabble suddenly belted out.  The other guards screamed likewise as they continued to look at the twosome.

    The sound of footfalls from the gigantic wall that loomed over them caused Green Arrow to take notice.  He squinted his eyes to see archers carrying large man and a half bows leaned out from the rifts in the wall.  “Hatchet, put up a shield!” Green Arrow commanded as he took a few steps back.

    “I’m only doing this cause I want to,” Hatchet spat at the young boy as he closed his eyes.  A pinkish colored orb crackled to life around the two of them.  The archers began to let loose their volleys of arrows-- the shafts crackling or breaking apart on the energy shield of Hatchet’s design.

    “Well that went over good,” Green Arrow said as he turned to the villain whose energy was now saving his life instead of taking it.

    “And they say Gandhi had no diplomacy skills,” Hatchet said as he looked through his pinkish construct, his eyes watching the rain of arrows impacting.  As he watched however his jaw went slack as the metal gate slowly began to crane up.  Even through the thick air of zipping arrows, the villain was sure he could make out at least twenty soldiers waiting by the gate.  “We can’t stay standing around here.  The archers aren’t all they have, Green Arrow.”

    “Yeah I see that.  I was hoping they’d notice we weren’t attacking and would notice our good intentions,” Green Arrow said.

    “Attack… you know I didn’t even think of that,” Hatchet said, as he closed his eyes tightly his hands once again out lined with that pink energy.  He winced his face; as he concentrated.  Despite being the holder of a Oan like technology it appeared to Green Arrow that this man had nothing on the will of his good buddy Green Lantern.

    From the circular orb that Hatchet had constructed a single arm extended outwards, the thick line of energy hovered there a moment, the head began to expand gradually as a large missile-launcher’s head was built followed by the base and finally the trigger.  “Hatchet, I can’t allow you to slaughter innocent people.”

    “Hey I’m about to save your bacon and all you care about is innocents?  You are a total nut job.”  Hatchet grimaced as he watched the gate, the large pink floating missile launcher tilted down at the soldiers.

    “They find us threatening, does that give us a reason to kill them?” Green Arrow asked.

“Yes!”  Hatchet smiled as the large missile launcher overhead discharged in a loud screech. The floating pink missile launcher shot out a compressed stream of Hatchet’s own energy.  Both Hatchet and Green Arrow felt the ground shake as the energy collided with the now exposed mouth of the gate.  Horses and soldiers were flung to the side in the impressive shot, the scene being showered with mud and pieces of the wall that gave way with the shot’s fortitude.  The archer brought his hips around suddenly his left arm whirled around like a whip-- his wrist bent upwards as the heel of his hand was brought forward in a standard Shien open fist strike.

    Hatchet had been waiting for it however and the shield that was surrounding them both shrunk to a small tower shield instantly; the boy’s palm crashed into the shield.  Green Arrow drew his hand back numb from the pain.  He spread his legs out to line up with his shoulders and held his defensive stance looking at Hatchet who beamed a smile. 

“We both want the same thing boy,” Hatchet said, a sword materializing in his free hand. “And I was just giving us an in point.  Why not drop the act?”

    “Act?” Green Arrow snarled his position unchanged, his bow still tucked across one shoulder. “You just murdered people!”

    “Explain what you would have done?  It was their decision to attack us, and it was my decision to make them stop.”

    “They were attacking us because they thought we were a threat... and ya know, I agree with them!” the archer spat.  Hatchet took a step towards the young hero flinging the pink energy sword at him.  Green Arrow took a step back, his back moved into the step, his hands however stayed at chest length, momentarily watching the enraged villain.  Part of him understood where he came from in firing on the soldiers, but he could not accept such a thing.  Even if they were just injured the act was not proper.  Green Arrow had taken steps towards active pacifism, since he picked up his father’s mantle, but what he didn’t believe in, was counter striking as a means of defense.  If one was to strike in self interest it should be controlled and simple.  Not devastating and counter productive.

    “Oh, I agree I am a threat, a lethal one,” Hatchet said, swinging the sword a second time, his shoulder burying downwards as he moved into the swipe.

    “You should stick to guns!” Green Arrow said, as he bent his body back at the strike. His right leg taking a step to the side, he brought an open palm up once again.  The palm caught Hatchet’s shoulder, in a jarring motion.  Hatchet’s body moved in the brace, Arrow’s left leg curved in cutting between the villains stance and taking his balance from him.  The villain fell face first into the ground.  “But we are not going to do this… not now.”

    Green Arrow didn’t wait for the villain to get back up.  As soon as the man was down he took off into a sprint into the city’s walls.  Hatchet’s head looked up as he saw the green blur being obfuscated in the misty fog of debris.  He stood up shaking the dirt from him.  “Lead the way archer, keep yourself open.”  He smiled as he stepped towards the wall.  “This is far from over.”

   
The Catacombs
Rome, Italy

   
    Sonar’s smile had just gotten bigger, if that was at all possible.  The bricks crumbled down from the wall, crashing into piles of rock.  The mammoth boots of the villain, crashed across the wet floor.  Only minutes before hand did he get the drop on Eddie Flyers and Crackshot.  More surprise for the legend government agent than the assassin however.  But Sonar wasn’t too worried about the woman Crackshot.  If the sound controlling villain learned anything during his last encounter with this woman-- it would have had to be that she rarely struck when she did not have the shot lined up. Flyers lined his back against Crackshot’s.  Like the villainess he to went for a gun.

    “Where is Green Arrow?” Sonar gasped, his eyes looking at the two of them, his hands energizing in a crackle.  “I have no time for the likes of you.”  He spat.

    “So you are getting paid to ice the kid?” Flyers asked, his brunette mane with just the briefest hint of freckled gray slid across his sloping forehead.  “Cause I gotta say after the first two poundings he gave ya, Armitage must be hooking you up rather nicely.  Especially if you want to keep getting up.”

    “I suppose you have dealt with my employer before?” Sonar asked.  His lips scowled as he looked into the glasses of the man who held a gun.

    “Dealt with…” Flyers shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah I guess you could say that.  And if we seen one of his droogies, we seen ‘em all.  Course most knows how to stay down.”

    Crackshot flinched as she rose up her guns.  Sonar’s eyes focused on Flyers… and she saw her shot.  The cold metal of the guns eased across her warm hands as she split her arms apart and squeezed the triggers.  The gun’s aftermath tensed her wrists as they shot.  The firing sounded like drums echoing through the musty corridor.

    Flyers flipped up on his back as he heard the shots-- as he saw the splashes of blood trace onto the man’s left shoulder and in his chest.  Flyers raised his gun up to his face his arm stretching out.  “Did you have to do that, Mel?”

    “What are you going to talk him out of taking Arrow’s life?”  Crackshot asked as she flung her body forward her eyes still trained on the bleeding villain who was standing up now.  His shirt had been ripped and torn in places, from various fights he’d had through the course of this day.

    “You two speak as though I am not here…” Sonar growled as he took a breath focusing not to loose consciousness.  If it had not been for the two other fights he had today, perhaps that would not be the case.  His left hand balled up as red shimmering energy crackled.  “LIKE I DON’T EXIST!”

    “Give us a moment honey.”  Crackshot smiled as she raised her gun and fired another shot.  Her arms lashed out as she leaped over fallen rocks and debris.  Sonar growled as glowing hand was brought towards the femme fatale.  With what appeared to be an enormous effort rings of sonic energy lashed from his body.  The bullets paused in space for a brief moment before taking off back towards their origin space.

    Flyers however didn’t watch to see where they hit.  He knew she could take care of herself and the Kevlar vest she wore put things into order as well.  No instead the man saw it was time to make his move as the Meta was distracted.  He brought up his Smith and Weston revolver and aimed and shot in succession.  Each shot hitting a key point of the anatomy.

    Yet to the expediter’s dismay only two shots hit true.  A shot to the right arm ricocheted off metal-- however the left arm’s elbow penetrated the Sonar’s flesh-- the shot to the stomach ricocheted off metal with an identical twang as well, but his shot to the kneecap hit flesh.  “Fifty outta fifty ain’t too bad?”  Flyers spat as he lunged forward into a roll.

    Crackshot hadn’t expected the bullets to fling back at her, and one hit her hard in the shoulder.  She felt the heat of the impact as well as the force sending her hard on her ass.  Her chin length, platinum blond hair clung to her face wetly as she dropped to her knees.  The female didn’t even look when she heard the shots from Flyers revolver.  She gulped hard as drips of blood splattered on the pavement.  Finally she managed to look up to see Sonar falling through the hole in the wall that Hatchet had made almost an hour or so before hand.  She let a smile crackle across her face.  “Stupid Eddie Flyers… taking all a girls fun.” She smiled, her body pulled up from the ground.  She slid out two new Berettas from her vest and walked towards the hole. 

    Flyers let his body lean against the wall.  He reached into his jacket to pull out his packet of Marlboros.  “I gotta quit these one these days,” he said mostly to his self as he pulled one into his mouth.  “Who am I kidding, I been chain smoking since Nixon was president.”  He took in a deep breath as he pulled the circular chamber free from the neck of the gun.  He quickly tapped the round chamber and let the used bullets clank on the ground.  Quickly he began shoving new bullets into the gun.

    Crackshot had no idea where Flyers had went off to.  Yet she didn’t mind a little quality time with Sonar.  She would have to end this quickly she knew.  She had lost a lot of blood, and then again so did Sonar, yet unlike her she had no idea how long he could handle himself.  She stepped through the hole in the wall, her head turned to see the vacant walkway.  Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the floor.  Drops of blood followed a clean trail back into the sewer system.  She reached up to lock and load her guns.
   
    “Let him go,” Flyers spoke as he walked through the hole himself, his heavy feet clambering across the broken rock and debris.

    “What do you mean?  We have him injured, and with a trail like that he’s just begging to be taken down?  Need I mention he’s already injured a lot of people?”

    “Including you,” Flyers told her, taking a drag off his cigarette.  “But unless you plan on killing him, there is not much we can do.  Armitage has the local law and enforcement working for him.  Which means no matter what we do, as long as were taking him on here… There’s only one way to put him down, that’s by killing him.”

    “I have no problems with that,” Crackshot said with a smile.

    “I knew I liked you.”  Flyers said to her with a smile.  “But the fact remains you are injured and losing a lot of blood.  And I’m sure the kid isn’t out for the count yet.  So I’m sure that Sonar is looking for him.  So it’s a pointless fight for him.”

    “It is like you know what it’s like…”

    “You -DO- know what it’s like.  Wasn’t that your last occupation?”

    “Guess it still is,” Crackshot said grimly.  “Hard to get that kind of life out of your system.”

    “Tell me about it,” Flyers responded.

The Holy Roman Empire…
Between Time and Reality…

    Green Arrow pulled back the rust covered hood that swallowed his skull into deep shadows.  His foot falls stopped as he approached the large gate which blocked his path.  Up ahead he could see his goal as plain as day, the square building that had laid in the valley between two hills.  For the past thirty minutes he had hiked through the shadows and alleys of the stores and buildings that comprised most of this place.  He had not caught sight of Hatchet since the villain killed the guards-- yet Green Arrow knew he was there…somewhere watching.

    The young hero leaped up on the balls of his feet his hands circled around the bar on the top of the fence.  Straining the muscles on his shoulders he pulled himself up chest high, before he swung his feet upwards, using the strength of his forearms and wrists to counter his weight and, completed a backwards handspring over the gate.  He tucked chest into his knees as his body flung through the cold air.  He counted to twenty in his head before extending his feet once more-- his footfalls catching the ground in a thump.  

    As soon as the archer landed his ears picked up a clanking of metal.  His eyes scanned the area that lay in front of him.  A large meadow of green grasses that stopped shy of a cobblestone path with a fountain in the center.  Yet what really caught his attention were the five guards, whose foot falls smashed over the deep green grass, drawing their swords as they brought strides towards him.  <GET HIM!  He is one of the outsiders who destroyed the main gate!> One of the guards spoke in perfect Latin.  Green Arrow rose from his haunches as he watched the five guards, the young martial artist quickly assessed the situation.  He would have to fight them.  This was the choice they had taken, and there was little he could do.  He would pacify them, preferably without endangering their lives.

    They came forward like one approaching wall.  Like the boy read in history class the centurions of Rome were all masters in strategy and a wall long enough would not allow an easy victory.  He could hit two at most of first strike and still three would remain.  He would have to hit them hard in places.  This battle would have no winners.  Green Arrow could not allow it.  He leaned forward as they neared him taking his own sprint to greet them.  “Does not anyone speak English?”  He asked, mostly for his own amusement to forget what he had to do.  He brought his left arm outwards towards the guard just in front of him.  His open palm caught the chin of the guard the force knocking the soldier to the ground, his body went down to his haunches in the next breath then expelled from his lungs, three swords whistling in the air where his body once was.
   
    He bent backwards his right hand falling across the dirt as he balanced his body. He lashed one leg out catching the leg of the next soldier.  His heel hit the armored leg hard, a numbing sensation that tensed pain over the boy’s body, the guard went down hard.  The guard who now stood behind him however was ready for his strike swiping the sword at the boy.  Green Arrow tried to flip out of the way, but even his trained speed was not fast enough-- the blade raked across his forearm splintering soft droplets of blood.  The next moment Green Arrow retracted his bleeding arm his body resuming its former height.  Three were still there, ready for him.  The boy looked at the three of them walking towards him.  He had to get this over and quick. 

    The three standing soldiers launched at him from all sides.  The hero let his hip swerve around as his leg was lanced outwards at the skull of a soldier.  His left arm came outwards the blood flicking from his open wound as he shoved his open palm at another’s chin.  The third stayed silent as the other two men fell to the grass.  “I speak English,” the man said.

    “This gets crazier by the moment,” Green Arrow said to him.  His lungs drew in deep breaths.  “What is going on here?  And how come you speak English?”

    “My name is Jackson Fuller.  I’m an agent with the FBI.  Or I was, I don’t know.  Look, they brought Jennings to the bluffs beyond.  They think he is the one,” the agent said through his metal helmet.

    “The one?” Green Arrow asked… “No forget it.  All of this is making less and less sense.  I’m here to find Jennings.”  The boy sighed.  “Wait are there any others.. I mean like you?  That aren’t from this time period?”
   
“Well I think most of them all came from the other side.  But the Mystic has a way to blind their minds.”

    “I see.  And she’s the only way out of here.”  The archer thought for a moment going silent, “look do what you can, find anyone who wants to leave and we’ll get out of here... the way we came.”

    “I… I… okay,” the agent said to the archer, whom had already started his sprint towards the large rolling hills that had lain in the distance.
 
The rolling bluffs
Between Time and Reality…

    The rolling hills were large, any bigger and one would have to think they were mountains.  The long stances of deep green grasses edged across the valley shimmering in the modest coloring.  The sun stood high into the air in pristine rays that touched over the plants and the scarce trees. Though stranger was how everything came abruptly to a stop at the edge of the valley.  The hills the grasses the sky… everything was cut off and all that were presented in front of them were darkness, and much more of a void than the perpetual storm shadows of the city.

    “Are you ready?” a voice called out from the crowd, the man who was leading the convoy turned his head fully around.  His face creased with worn lines and wrinkles as he turned to face the Mystic.  Her blond hair swirled across her face, her skin smooth and pale now.  Her large eyes took in his, ridding the man of any doubts with but a single stare.

    “Yes…”  He smiled the thick grey beard spread out across his face as his lips curved.  “If I am the one, then everyone can finally... be free.”  He spoke as though it was his only dream.

    All of the sudden a large pink beam struck at the ground.  Dirt and rock splattered across the pavement, in one devastating blast.  A large over sized rifle floated forward followed by its maker whom flew behind it courtesy of a pink rocket pack.  “You all can be free after Jennings gives me what I want.”  The maniacal voice of Hatchet boomed.  “Or… you can try to fight me and I can give you a FINAL peace--makes no difference to me.”

    Six of the leather armored men turned from the group surrounding Wild Bill Jennings.  Each of them raised bows and aimed at the flying villain who floated there above them.  Just moments away from the energy construct.  Across the villains lips came a smile.  If there was one thing the man called Hatchet enjoyed it was killing.  He was given the powered Gauntlets from a mysterious benefactor only months before hand.  He did not ask questions about why he was given the strange technology.  They after all made his dreams come true.  Perhaps one day he would have to pay for the crimes the Gauntlets afforded him.  But Hatchet was more a man of the moment-- and this moment he had just begun to be attacked with arrows.  “Been here done that.”  Hatchet bellowed as a large wall formed in front of him.


    The young hero known to the world as Green Arrow quickened his pace as he saw the first fuchsia colored beam attack the ground.  To say he hadn’t expected something like that to happen would have been a work of fiction.  However the sight caused him to increase his stride and pull the bow--he wore over his shoulder-- free.  He could feel the burning in his lungs as he came into view of the scene around him.  The boy heard the gloating from Hatchet, but he paid it no mind.  He would not be able to rely heavily on stealth this time.  He would have to play the game the way like his father would have.

     Green Arrow took no time in digging his heels and fingers into the soft dirt that elevated across the valley.  Dirt flew as he worked his way up the hill.  He needed height if he was going to save all these people from the fate that Hatchet afforded.  He had only mere moments… the boy could hear the arrows of the archers ricocheting off the energy shield.  It was moments like these as he saw the people in danger he wished he had more to offer than martial arts and arrows.

    Coming to a stop at a bowl shape across the hill, Green Arrow drew two arrows from his quiver.  He placed his ring finger between the two shafts as he notched them into the bow string.  A feeling of good will attached across his ears as he heard the chord squeak-- as he felt the tightness of his weapon.  The archers below continued to feed and throw arrows at the floating villain.  The boy himself was quite intrigued by their skills.  Oliver had been faster able to draw, notch, and aim before the first arrow would streak ten feet.  However Connor was not nearly as fast as that.  His skills were good, but when it came to archery his father was better.  Roy was probably better too, though these days with his crossbow-- it would probably make them about even.

    “There is no one sense in archery… feel your shot, Connor.” The words of Oliver Queen echoed through the boy’s ears as he aimed his arrows at Hatchet.  He took a deep breath and released the twin arrows.  The two shafts whizzed through the air at an intense speed the very shafts cracking due to the strength of the draw.

    Hatchet’s head drew back as the first arrow hit the side of his body.  The armor there caused it to keep from puncturing his flesh.  It was the second shot that whizzed across his neck, the head scraping the flesh however that really got his attention-- and anger.  The shots were to draw the villain’s attention away from the people.  More importantly from Jennings-- even if he was one of many people who would die this day if the archer did not act.  There was no choice for him, in the matter.  He had the skills and the legacy to make a difference.  If only to provide lives to those who would be the villain’s next targets.

    However the villain had other plans.  With his concentrated will, the villain veered the shotgun towards the archer who still stood where he had drawn the shot.  Green Arrow stood firm his back slickly hunched his head and gaze looking at his target-- looking at Hatchet.  The boy’s gaze defiantly did not turn from him even as the over sized shotgun pumped and locked itself again.  “Oh this is going to feel so very good.”  Hatchet smiled as the shotgun exfoliated a large beam from its mouth.

    Green Arrow moved even before he saw the first glimmer of energy.  He dodged to his left as the beam struck where he was standing. Dirt and rocks showered over his body, the magnitude taking the boy off balance for a brief moment.  The sound of the gun pumping a second time however caused his head to look towards Hatchet.  “Stay still… why battle the obvious.” He glowered at the archer boy.

    “Call me naïve,” Green Arrow called back, as he pulled an arrow from his quiver notching the shaft across the bow string.

    “You are skilled… but not that skilled… kid.” Hatchet smiled, as the second blast boomed from the pink shotgun.

    The hero leaped from the hill as the second shot struck.  As his feet left the hill he leaned up to aim letting the arrow go. His feet hit the ground hard; his knees bent inward as he dropped to a roll finishing the momentum of his jump.  Above he heard a shriek from Hatchet. 

    The arrow had caught Hatchet’s forearm.  The arrow had easily hit its target, one of the many spandex covered portions of his costume.  As the suddenly surprised pain toasted over villain’s body he lost focus.  The shotgun, shield and jet pack dissolved into nothing.  The Villain without the energy from his gauntlets to keep him afloat fell hard from the air, his back smashing into the grass covered ground.  As soon as his back hit the grass covered ground, the soldiers launched upon him with their swords drawn.  Inside his mind, Green Arrow knew that would not hold him.  He as easily could use the gauntlet’s power and blow all the guards away.  He questioned himself as he ran towards the Mystic, Jennings and those who were still crowded around him.  He flung himself into a mad dash as Jennings with a smile on his face began to walk towards the edge of the cliff.

    “The quality of life is in the decisions we make.  Free your mind young Connor.”  Master Jensen’s words reminded the archer subconsciously.

    “JENNINGS!” Green Arrow called out as he broke through the crowd of people.  His arms pushed some of them aside.  The bodies moved hesitantly as the boy slid between them.  The brutish actions he made as his arms swam across the people were not that of monk... not that of a pacifist.

    As Green Arrow neared the edge of the group of toga clad people, he could see the bearded face of Jennings walking at the edge of the cliff… the cliff into the void of nothingness.  “JENNINGS!” he called again his arms and face being pushed free from the crowd.  This time William “Wild Bill” Jennings turned around.  His bearded face showed a smile, his blue eyes tranquil and as peaceful as those of any monk he had ever saw at the Ashram.

    “Do I know you?” Jennings asked with calmness.

    “I see… perhaps I will some day,” the man said as he turned back towards the cliff and stepped off.

    “NO!”  The young Archer’s voice cracked as he pulled himself from the mob.  His foot falls were hard and stiff as he rushed past the Mystic and leaped off the cliff.  It was the moment that his feet fell from the cliff he realized what he’d done-- of course it was far too late for that. 

    The air circulated about his body as he brought his hands free to circle around the waist of Jennings.  He wasn’t sure what there was to do.  But he would die trying to save a life.  But was it worth it?  The darkness encompassed both of them--But as the two plummeted voices echoed in a celestial harmony through his ears.

    “This one is pure of heart,” one voice said
   
    “This one however has problems… fighting for who he is can he truly be the champion?” a second voice questioned.

    “He has taken one legacy, even when it meant destroying his world.  He took it blindly because he knew others would suffer,” the first voice confirmed.

    “Then he is the one.  The one destined for the true gift,” the second voice agreed.

And there was a brilliant light in the darkness… a light that blinded both Jennings and Green Arrow.  Blinded the Mystic and it blinded Hatchet.  All of them could not see the destruction of a dream.

The Catacombs
Rome, Italy

    “FATHER!”  The words cracked from Crackshot’s voice as she walked through the hole in the wall.  Her bright blue eyes glazed from tears as she saw him, his body leaned against the far wall.  The unconscious form of Green Arrow lay against the man-- his hands still wrapped tightly around the man’s torso.  Both of the men were covered in dirt and muck.  As though they were part of the catacombs themselves-- they appeared to look like part of the catacombs.  Wild Bill’s eyes opened, he pried his stomach from the unconscious archer as he wiped at his eyes.

    “What?  MEL!”  The old man smiled his grey beard now set in chunks due to the dirt stretched over face.  “Oh my god... my baby girl!”  He stood up instantly and strode towards his daughter his arms stretched out for a hug.  Crackshot strode forward to, but she delivered a powerful slap across the man’s face.

    The force caused his neck to jar backwards, his cheek streaked scarlet.  “What was that for?” he asked.

    “For being a dumb old fool!” Tears finally ran down her cheeks.  “You will never do anything this foolish again… dammit!”

    “Still got the way with the ladies you ole cuss!”  Flyers spoke as he walked into the room behind, Crackshot. 

    “I’ll be… is that… is that you Ironhorse?”  Wild Bill asked, his hand rubbed against the slap mark.

    “Well it sure ain’t the Pope.”  Flyers spoke before he walked forward towards where Green Arrow lay unconscious.  “What happened, how’s the ki-- Green Arrow?”

    “Green Arrow?” Wild Bill asked as he turned around to look at the unconscious form laying there.  “Thought Green Arrow looked a bit more like Errol Flynn.”

    “What the hell happened?”  Crackshot boomed.

    “I don’t know.  I remember coming in here with the documents… running here… then a bright light… I woke up with uhh... Green Arrow wrapped around me.  I mean we didn’t… I mean I’m not like that.  Your mom…”

    Flyers sighed as he walked towards where Green Arrow laid.  He bent down and looked at the boy, his mask was ripped and blood flowed down his nose to his lips.  His face was swollen and he seemed that he had quite a fight.  “Hey kid… you in there?”  Flyer asked looking down at the boy.

    Green Arrow didn’t move for a few moments.  “Come on Kid, don’t you fucking do this.”

    Finally the archer opened his eyes his head pounded and his eye sight was blurry.  “Huh?  Eddie?  Where’s Hatchet?”

    “Don’t worry any about that,” Eddie said looking at the boy.  “Everything is fine.  We got Wild Bill, and we are going home.  The ex-expeditor lifted his arm around the archer’s torso and helped the young hero up.

    “Eddie…” he spoke as he felt his broken body being forced up.  “I want to go back to the Ashram.  I need time to reflect.”
   
“He and my father are going to a hospital first!”  Crackshot boomed.

    “Just the Ashram,” Green Arrow said in a hoarse voice.

    “Jensen will take care of him fine, Crackshot,” Flyers spoke as he helped the boy forward.  “Though Wild Bill, you seen better days.  You all stay here for a few days.  I’ll contact someone at the embassy here, and give you asylum until Pops is back on his feet, and then we’ll give you a one way trip back to San Francisco.”

    “Sounds good to me as long as Sonar doesn’t try to attack again.”  Crackshot smiled.

    “Though there is still the small order about the documents Wild Bill.  I’m going to have to take those.”

    “I figured as much,” Wild Bill spoke as he reached into his pocket to thrust the documents to Flyers.

    Flyers grabbed the envelope, stuffing it in his pocket.  “I’ll see that a museum here in Rome get these.”

    “Can we go already?” Crackshot asked as she began to walk back through the corridor.  “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

    “Starting to?”  Flyers asked with a smile.

Story © 2005 Jae Lizhini and may not be reproduced without permission.