SCOTCH
My name is Jefferson Pierce. For 9 years, I've been stranded in family life- raising my girls and working as a principal at a local high school. Now, I'm ready to bro out and use my dope-ass electricity powers without restraint. To do that, I need someone else. I need... something else.
Okay, so here's the deal. A.R.G.U.S., the ambiguous, secretive government operation run by Amanda Waller, had a backload of high-profile missions too worthwhile for the Suicide Squad. They needed two legitimate hero operatives to dominate everything in that dossier, so they picked Green Arrow and Black Lightning, and they offered them a lot of money. Both of them said yes right away.
"I could use a vacation," said Black Lightning.
"Absolutely," said Green Arrow.
"This is not a vacation," said Amanda Waller.
Jeff took the money for obvious reasons- two girls, both of which HAD to go to college, and for some reason he had agreed to spousal support. He kept referring to his divorce as "a 9-year separation," which is the only occasion in their partnership where Oliver wondered about Pierce's mental wellness. Oliver didn't have any kids that he was allowed to associate with, so he took the money because he just loved to trick things out. He had trick arrows, he had a secret lair packed with display cases and LED's, and motorcycles. He was going to start designing an Arrow-Mobile during the meeting but Amanda wouldn't give him any paper and anyway it would be immediately seized by the police.
"Ancient lore says there is a magical skull in a magical cave on the island of Jura," said Waller.
"Jura, the island off the coast of the Scottish mainland, where George Orwell wrote the dystopian classic 1984?" asked Jefferson.
"The very same," said Waller, "our contacts in the field say that Occult Freelancer John Constantine is seeking the skull, which means that the skull must indeed be magical, although I remain scrupulous about the cave."
"I don't mess with magic anymore, and I definitely don't mess with John Constantine," said Oliver, "it's too confusing."
"You'll mess with whomever I tell you to mess with," said Waller.
They came to an agreement. Jeff and Oliver would mess with John Constantine, but A.R.G.U.S. would increase their budget for expenses. They flew 1st Class to Glasgow (Amanda vetoed the private jet) and Oliver ordered two glasses of Oban 12 yr. immediately after take-off. No ice.
"We need to pre-game," said Oliver, "hard."
"Listen, I'm game to cut loose with you, but we're going to a haunted, magical cave. We need to be able to deal with psychological manipulation," said Jefferson.
"Scotch is the ultimate way to deal with psychological manipulation," said Oliver.
Jefferson put in his headphones and listened to Jurassic 5. Oliver wanted to watch Lethal Weapon 2 but didn't want a bunch of strangers to hear him laugh, so he just drank his scotch and thought about his life.
In the 9 years after being ship-wrecked at sea, Oliver had experienced adventure that most people only dream of, but much of that had paid a large emotional toll, and Oliver had often been humorless as a result. Before being shipwrecked at sea, Oliver had no shame in being the billionaire playboy. He had lots of fun, maybe too much. Now, Oliver wondered if maybe he shouldn't have thrown the bathtub out with the bathwater, that perhaps there were some things about "the old Oliver" that were better than the new one.
These missions weren't for Star City. Maybe Oliver could relax and enjoy them a little more. And if he died for having fun with it, so what? Felicity broke up with him, Laurel had passed, and Diggle had re-enlisted. Star City was enjoying peace after Damien Darhk. There was nothing left to fight for, nothing left to be serious about. Oliver finished his glass.
"I wish I could work out right now," said Jeff, "I'm really feeling it."
"Jeff," said Oliver, "this is First Class. We can do whatever we want." So Jeff and Oliver unbuckled their seats, stood up, and started shadowboxing in the aisle. They both took their shirts off and started doing push-ups. Jefferson drank his scotch, the flight attendants brought them more. And I know it's cliché for two guys to click with the attractive lady flight attendants, but guess what they were two ripped superheroes, they were doing pretty well. But Oliver got too enthusiastic and tore the door off one of the overhead baggage containers and did pull-ups, so they were detained by airport security, the head of which was a massive superhero nerd, and they were let go.
Waiting for them in the lobby of the airport was Jeremy Clarkson, from the hit UK television program, Top Gear, which was all about cool cars. Oliver had met Jeremy at one of Moira Queen's epic charity ragers. "Afternoon, mates," said Jeremy, "off for a jolly jaunt in the country are we?"
"Jeremy," Oliver smiled and bro-hugged his old friend.
"We're here on business," said Jefferson.
"As am I," Jeremy smiled at Oliver, "and business is good."
"Do you have something to show me?" said Oliver.
It was a Rolls Royce Phantom 2018, parked right outside the airport in Glasgow. "This car is completely bitchin'," said Jeremy, and he briefly explained the various features of the car. "So where are you two buggering off to, anywho?" asked Jeremy.
"We're stealing a magical skull from John Constantine," said Jefferson.
"Oh yes, he's a real tosspot, that Constantine. Well, I'm off. Unless you'd like a cup of tea before we go?" asked Jeremy Clarkson from the hit British TV show Top Gear.
"No thanks," said Jefferson. Oliver shrugged and smiled.
"Proper job," said Jeremy, and he walked away.
The drive through Scotland to the Islay ferry was mad leisurely. Islay was where 4 of the top 5 Scotch whisky distilleries were located. From there, they would take ANOTHER ferry to the island of Jura itself. Jura, that is where Oliver and Jefferson were going. Here's the bonus: the fifth of the top 5 distilleries was on Jura.
The scenery on the drive was epic. Trees with leaves in full bloom and mountains in all their glory. The mountains rose above the treeline, so their craggy peaks and shrubbery were in full view, framed against those sexy cumulus clouds. Guess what color that dark green shrubbery was, oh man I already told you, fuck. This greenery is the perfect excuse for me to use my costume, thought Oliver, the costume will finally serve as effective camouflage and up my cool factor by 1000%. Jefferson and Oliver didn't talk much, there was no reason to with views like that, but they did stop to buy fresh pairs of counterfeit Aviator sunglasses. They also stopped at a very nice cottage breakfast place for coffee and Haggis. The cottage was in a village with a dirt road. "This is wonderful," said Jefferson. Oliver nodded, his mouth was full.
Cool, so they made it to the ferry by late afternoon, they went to the 4th floor of the ferry and looked out on the water from the deck. "Road beers?" asked Oliver.
"I'll take one," said Jefferson, "but we are on the water, technically." Oliver took a deep breath of the salty sea air and ignored Jeff. Jefferson put in his headphones and listened to "Slip Away" by Clarence Carter, which made him think about his ex-wife, and how they were going to get back together. Then he started listening to Chocolate Milk, because they're awesome. Oliver left and came back with two IPA's.
"Do you want to know the history behind these glorious beverages?" asked Oliver.
"I probably won't be listening," said Jeff.
"You know it takes a lot for me to reach out," said Oliver, and he started rubbing his thumb and forefingers together. Six unidentified beers later, the ferry went from enjoying the sunshine of a clear blue sky to being shrouded in a thick fog. A ragged looking old man with one eye and a denim jacket was walking across the deck. The man turned to the two heroes and said, "Storm's comin." Oliver glared at the old seaman.
"Shut your fucking mouth," said Oliver. Because after 5 years in Hell, vacation Oliver was kind of an A-hole. Through the fog, the shadows of mountains floated by.
"We need to stop drinking, so that we are fit to drive when we arrive," said Jefferson. In that unlikely moment, Oliver and Jefferson exchanged their first fist-bump. When they reached Islay, they were pretty sober and the fog was gone, so that man they talked to wouldn't make eye contact with them. On Islay, they drove through grassy farmland, strangely unnoticed by the goats and cows grazing in the fields. The sky was cloudy and it looked like it was going to rain, but for the next 14 hours, it wouldn't rain at all. They made it to the center of town, parked, got beers and sandwiches, and went to the beach next to some castle ruins. The sun set as they ate their sandwiches. The waves were crashing against the shore like-
FSHHHHH!
...FSHHHHH!
...FSHHHHH!
"You must've killed at least one person with lighting," said Oliver between sandwich bites.
"Nope," said Jefferson, "I'm 0 for 1150 on missions without murder."
"If I didn't kill," said Oliver, dipping chips in hummus and hoping he didn't eat too much sand, "I'd be dead."
"A bow and arrow kinda has one purpose, but since I'm a hero, I can actually manage my powers," said Jefferson.
"What?" Oliver was kind of drunk so he stood up weird, "That's it, you and I are going to have a Don't-Kill-Eachother-Off. I'll shoot an arrow at you, and you electrocute me. Whoever dies? Wins," Oliver held up his arms.
"Electrocution means you did die," said Jeff, "I'd have to shock you for you to live."
"What would be shocking is if you stopped correcting me," said Oliver. So Oliver got completely naked and waded waist-deep into the ocean. "Do it!" yelled Oliver. With so much integrity on the line, Jefferson rolled the pant legs of his jeans over his knees, and took a few barefooted steps into the ocean. If he could feel the charge from the current in the water, he could make sure that the wattage was low enough. The water was brisk and refreshing against Jefferson's legs. Jefferson put his hood up. He felt the charge coursing through his body. His eyes glowed white and thin blue contours of electricity sparked around his knuckles. Oliver grinned and gave the thumbs up.
In fact, one of the hardest parts of Jefferson's job was making his bolts look scary without killing the person, that way they wouldn't come looking for a second round. This meant short, heavy bursts with no follow-through. Jefferson aimed at a middle point in the water between himself and Oliver, and fired. Jefferson felt a warm tingle against his legs.
"Huk!" said Oliver, and he slipped beneath the surface of the water.
"Oliver!" yelled Jefferson, but then he kind of just waited to see if Oliver would show back up. Because if he ran in all hero and Oliver was fine, that would be embarrassing. Sure enough, Oliver surfaced, spraying water out of his mouth like it was a blowhole. Oliver waded back towards the shore.
"Nice man!" said Oliver, "Scary lighting bolt."
"Thanks," said Jefferson like it was no big D.
"My turn," Oliver whispered in Jefferson's ear, and Jefferson had to admit- he clenched up a little.
Oliver took a bow and arrow from an old wooden case he'd brought and then pressed an apple into Jefferson's hand. "Walk 300 feet away," said Oliver.
"300 feet?" Jefferson chuckled.
"Don't ask questions!" roared Oliver. Holding the apple and a bottle of beer called Hobgoblin, Jefferson walked 300 feet along the beach, alone, and realized he was having a lot of fun. Jefferson turned to look at Oliver, who was a shadowy speck in the darkening sky. Seafoam bubbled at Jefferson's toes. Jefferson laughed and held up the apple. Oliver's form seemed to be perfect. Oliver yelled something over the waves.
"What?" yelled Jefferson.
"STAY STILL!" called Oliver.
As soon as Jefferson spaced out like he was in line at the Post Office, an arrow sank neatly into the apple, splitting it at the core. The two halves fell from Jefferson's fingertips. "Boom!" Oliver put his fists up over his head, "Who rules?"
They slept on the beach and woke up the next morning covered in sand. The hummus was ruined. Oliver put on his Green Arrow suit. Jefferson went with jeans and a nice T-shirt. They tried to get breakfast but for some reason the only thing anybody serves for breakfast on Islay is a sausage roll. It's a bread roll with only sausage in it. "Do you mean a sausage-egg-and-cheese?" asked Oliver.
"No," said the woman behind the counter.
"You have failed this breakfast," said Oliver, and he pushed over a stack of jams and walked out.
"Did that Green Arrow chap just push over my jams?" the woman asked Jeff.
They took a ferry to Jura. During the ferry ride, there was a light drizzling of rain for 10-15 minutes. When Jeff and Oliver reached the mouth of the magical cave, which was surrounded by tall grass, they realized it was haunted by ghosts. The ghosts were plasma white and swirled around the two heroes. And the ghosts were like, "Oooooo!"
"Ugggh, my past," Oliver wept, "so much past."
"Stand back," said Jefferson, his eyes glowing white.
"Are you finally going to do something cool?" asked Oliver. An electromagnetic field pulsated from Jefferson's body and rippled through the cave, high voltage. The ghosts dissappeared. Oliver and Jefferson walked through the dusty cave, pushing away burnt vines and brush in their path. They reached a stone pedestal, spotlit by the light of the sun through a hole in the cave wall, but the pedestal was empty- no skull. Constantine must have beaten them to it. "Lame," said Oliver, which is what he always says about things that will bother him later. Jefferson looked at Oliver and saw that behind Oliver's tough exterior he was actually feeling pretty down.
"Let's go to Ardbeg," said Jefferson. The Ardbeg Distillery on Islay sat right near the ocean. The lawn outside Ardbeg was well landscaped and even had a few sculptures. There was a stone patio with tables, and now that it was the afternoon, they could order real food. Oliver and Jefferson enjoyed a pleasant and informative tour of the distillery, did a tasting of 5 different scotches, and feasted on fish and chips. Second fist-bump.
"Thanks," said Oliver, who had changed back into street clothes.
"Thought this would cheer you up," said Jefferson, "and anyway we still get paid."
"No, if we don't retrieve the skull it's only half," said Oliver. Jefferson stopped spreading tartar sauce and placed his hands gently on the table. "Also, I think they're paying us with laundry money, if you know what I mean," said Oliver.
On the ferry back to the Scottish mainland, Jeff and Oliver got plastered. It was a warm night, so they sat outside at a table by a lamp on the wall. "Just checked my bank account," said Jeff, looking up from his cell phone, "You were right: half." Oliver nodded gloomily and looked at his beer glass.
"Evening, mates," Constantine dropped into the seat between the two of them, "looking for something?" Constantine was halfway through a cigarette, he was wearing a trench coat. His shock of blonde hair was so in control it was out of control.
"Jeff, please go get me a plastic butter knife," said Oliver.
"Don't be so mortal," Constantine blew smoke in Oliver's face, "that skull is too powerful for human hands. You'd use it the wrong way, too much, and for the wrong reasons."
"What does it do?" Jefferson asked.
"I dunno," shrugged Constantine. Constantine was looking out across the ferry when his face went white. "Holy shit," said Constantine, "it's Allan Quartermain." Oliver and Jeff turned and saw an old man with a beard. The man was wearing light safari gear and a good pair of boots. He looked solid.
"The legendary adventurer," Jefferson whispered.
"I've never heard of him," said Queen.
"That's because he's good at his job," said Jeff. Oliver's eyes narrowed.
"Here's the deal, mates," said Constantine, "I'm having a rare bit of stage fright. The skull is yours if you can introduce me to Quartermain."
"Introduce?" said Jefferson, "Do you mean a handshake, or...?"
"Yeah, right, okay follow along with me fellas, ready, you listening? I'm gay," said Constantine.
"Well we guessed that but," Jefferson began.
"But it's wrong to assume, it's true," said Oliver. Jefferson knew deep down that he was more likeable than Oliver was, but he didn't really want to leave the table, so Oliver took on the task of breaking the ice with Quartermain. Both of them have no powers, thought Jefferson, that'll give them something to talk about. Oliver approached the old man like he was about to seize a leopard, no chill at all.
"Queen," said Quartermain. He knows my name, thought Oliver.
"Quartermain," said Queen.
"I read about you in the papers," said Quartermain, packing tobacco into his pipe, "Lost at sea."
"Yes," said Oliver.
"And some of your... other exploits," said Quartermain. He knows my other name, thought Oliver.
"How'd you know about those?" said Oliver. Quartermain lit his pipe with a match.
"I know when I know," puffed Quartermain. Constantine was right, Allan was cool.
"I have some... friends here on the boat with me," said Oliver.
"Mm," Allan looked up at the stars.
"Similar... exploits, similar stories. Would you like to join us?" Oliver asked.
"Let me finish my pipe," said Quartermain, "then maybe we'll talk."
"Sure," said Oliver, "It was cool- it's a pleasure either way." Oliver walked carefully back to the table. When Allan approached their table later in the evening, and drank with them, they were blown away. Quartermaiin was like Neil Armstrong, George Harrison, and Jay-Z all rolled into one. His stories were extroardinary, and he was a total Gentleman, with a capital G. About three stories in, Constantine patted Quartermain's leg. Five stories in, after a good laugh, Quartermain put his hand on Constantine's shoulder and left it there. Jefferson looked at Oliver. It was time.
"So Allan," started Oliver. Quartermain blinked slowly to show that, even though he was upset to be addressed by his first name, he was willing to move on. "Constantine here is... a little shy," said Oliver.
"Not shy. Reserved," said Constantine.
"He wants to lay with you, Quartermain," said Oliver, "in bed." Constantine stared at the table, smoke drifting from his lit cigarette. Quartermain's lips pursed, and his hand gripped his beer glass. His eyes looked and landed on Jefferson, who was smiling.
"It's alright, Mr. Quartermain. America's changed," said Jefferson. Oliver bent under the table to tie his shoe. Quartermain's face turned red and he rounded on Jefferson.
"Young man, I'm not afraid of gay sex and I'm sure not afraid of what America thinks. When I was 16 I had a threesome with Marilyn Monroe and John F. Fucking Kennedy. I MADE America!" Quartermain drove a 12-inch hunting knife into the middle of the table, shaking all their glasses. The glasses kept shaking as a massive submarine broke the surface of the sea. A hatch opened from the hull of the submarine and a mechanical guardrail extended from the hatch, forming a bridge between the two ships. Quartermain finished his beer and stood up. "Will you join me, Mr. Constantine?" said Allan. Constantine smiled and took a drag from his cigarette, then got up and followed Quartermain into the submarine. In the seat where Constantine had been sitting, the skull was left behind. Jefferson stared at the skull, his mouth open. Oliver reached over, picked up the skull, and looked at it. Then Oliver looked at Jefferson and smiled.
"Cha-ching," said Oliver.
Oliver and Jefferson called Waller for an extraction (because they were too drunk to drive). They didn't know what to do with the Phantom, so they just left it on the ferry with the keys in the ignition, then walked off the ramp with everyone else. Jefferson had the skull under his arm.
"You know, not to sound prude, but I only board a submarine with a strange man when I'm in love," said Oliver.
"Who knows," Jefferson shrugged, "I guess something just- sparked- between them."
"You've got some real zappers," laughed Oliver.
"I've been charging that one up for awhile," said Jefferson. They convinced their A.R.G.U.S dispatch to take them to Edinburgh, and the party continued.
(CREDITS)
NEXT WEEK: TEQUILA