Strange Bedfellows

CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama
Language: some
Violence: some, non-lethal fighting
Nudity: none
Sex: none
Other: none

Author's Note:

An idea I had for Arrow season 4. With too much Enemy Mine Trope to not happen!

Strange Bedfellows

===#===

Nanda Parbat

Diggle hadn't known what to expect as he reached the nearly inaccessible temple-fortress of Nanda Parbat. The last few times he'd been here, he'd been sneaking in, or fighting his way in. Or, God help them, following Oliver in as he surrendered to Ra's Al Ghul's ultimatum.

This time, he walked deliberately up the center of the footpath, in full daylight. His shoulder blades itched with the anticipation of arrows impacting his spine. Surely, the outlying sentries had seen him. But the League couldn't kill everyone who climbed their mountain. How would they get new recruits? Unless surviving to the top was some test.

Why were there no sentries at the door? Diggle resisted the instinct to draw his sidearm. Any hostile moves at this point could trigger an attack. He wiped sweat from his upper lip.

Inside the grand hall were six black-clad assassins, arranged in a semi-circle. Diggle stopped, wondering what he was supposed to say, but he didn't get a chance. They attacked.

They attacked without bows, without swords. Diggle didn't go for his gun; he remembered his hand-to-hand training, his sparring with Oliver. He covered his weak points, he blocked and maneuvered to a better position. He didn't take the bait of an easy target, until he was sure of his placement and his follow-through. They were tough, but with a cool head and calculated fighting, he put them down, knocked them out. He took more blows for it.

One assassin kicked out his supporting leg, and he went down. He rolled away, regained his feet, struck under the assassin's guard. Three, two... then one. Diggle feinted, drew his attacker in, then spun behind him, got him in a choke hold. Zero.

Diggle stood panting, his hands up in guard position, his eyes taking in his fallen enemies, the rest of the room.

Another figure entered, gliding with the easy strength of a panther. He wore robes edged in gold, an antique sword with vicious four-pronged hilt at his hip, and a chain bearing a demon's head pendant. Diggle turned, and refrained from telling Malcolm Merlyn he looked ridiculous in that getup, no matter how tempting it was to be flippant.

"Your trainees don't seem to be all that good any more," Diggle said instead. He dropped his hands and stood straighter as the assassins began to recover. They skulked around the edge of the room, nursing their aching limbs and heads, eyes glittering at Diggle from within their hoods. "Under new management, huh?"

Merlyn narrowed his eyes at the snark. "I asked them not to kill you, unless you killed one of them first."

Diggle shrugged. "You know how we operate. No unnecessary killing."

"I'm glad to note you added the word 'unnecessary' in there."

Diggle snorted.

"I presume this isn't a social visit. What is it you want?"

"Can we talk in private?"

Merlyn lifted one ring-clad hand. The assassins bowed and filed out. Merlyn gestured for Diggle to follow him into a smaller side room.

So here it was. Diggle hadn't really prepared a speech; that wasn't his style. But he knew what had to be said. He took a breath. "I've been trying to track down an organization known as HIVE."

"And you've been unsuccessful."

Diggle bit down on his ire. "They killed my brother. I want to know why."

"Just that?" Merlyn gave him an amused look. "Just to know why?"

"I want justice for my brother's death. Even someone like you should understand that. Isn't that how you ended up here?"

Merlyn ignored his question. "What brings you to my doorstep?"

"Something Oliver said... something he told me Ra's Al Ghul said to him. HIVE might be an enemy of the League. Am I wrong?"

"What if we are enemies?"

Damn, this was hard. Diggle paced. "I've been trying to chase down leads on HIVE for over a year. They're ghosts. Even ARGUS has barely anything on them. Everything I've found only leads to dead ends, to empty air." He turned and faced Merlyn. "Surely you've heard 'the enemy of my enemy is my ally.' I... want an alliance. I want to help you hunt down HIVE."

"You want to join... my League of Assassins?" Merlyn's eyes glittered in amusement.

His use of the possessive rankled Diggle. "Your League? You only have this League because Oliver, God help him, handed it over to you, after he shed his blood and nearly lost everything he held dear taking down the last megalomaniac who was running it. You think now that you can wave your hand and have people scrape and bow to you, that you're something?"

Merlyn laughed, silently. "Now that's more like the John Diggle I know." He shook his head, then his expression went cold. "We're not hiring. Go home."

Shit, Diggle thought. This wasn't the way to get what he wanted. More honey, his grandma would have said. Less vinegar. "Anyone can join the League. 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses,' and we'll turn them into elite killers."

Another voice rang from the doorway. "He has passed the first test," Nyssa Al Ghul said, striding in, her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Allow him to proceed to the next."

Merlyn scowled at her. "I thought this was a private meeting."

"It is League business, is it not? The Heir has a say in it." Her dark eyes met the icy glare of the League's new leader.

Diggle said, "I thought you got demoted when Ra's picked Oliver over you."

Nyssa bristled like a tigress goaded through the bars of a cage. Diggle pinched his lips to suppress a smile and looked to Merlyn. "You reinstated her?"

"She's the most qualified," the former businessman replied curtly.

Now it was Diggle's turn to silently express his mirth. He just shook his head. Merlyn had killed Nyssa's lover. No doubt, Nyssa tried a new plot every day to kill him. Well, at least he didn't try to marry her. Diggle choked on another laugh.

Nyssa said, "I will train him. I will test him."

"That won't be necessary," Merlyn countered. "Mr. Diggle can join the League. There's only one test I require him to pass."

Diggle quirked a brow. "And that is...?"

A smirk toyed with the corner of Merlyn's mouth, but his eyes were hard in deadly seriousness. "Get down on your knees, and swear your undying fealty and complete obedience to me."

Diggle's teeth ground down so hard, he thought his jaw would crack under the strain. He glared pure hatred at the man, the murderer, the slayer of hundreds. He deserved to be the leader of killers. He deserved nothing from Diggle but contempt.

Merlyn smirked again. "Just as I thought." He turned away, his dark robe brushing the stone floor. "Go home, Mr. Diggle. Go back to your wife and child. People with families have no place here."

===X===

End Notes:

Merlyn had killed Nyssa's lover. No doubt, Nyssa tried a new plot every day to kill him.

- Am I the only one who cracks up thinking that the whole Malcolm and Nyssa situation reminds them of Inspector Clouseau and Cato?