Enemy of My Enemy

Betrayal

CONTENT:

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Drama

Language: yes

Violence: yes

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: SPOILERS for Season 2

Author's Notes:

This is a quick scenario I imagined during season 2 of Arrow. It's not a whole story, just a tantalizing beginning. Hey, it has Enemy Mine and Betrayal tropes, so I'm happy! The scenario is cut into little pieces, because I know how much you LOVE waiting to find out what happens next! (Admit it, you do!) (If you don't, fine, just wait a few days :P There are only 3 chapters.)

In this scenario, Sara has not yet escaped the League of Assassins. Malcolm Merlyn is back in town, and Oliver is hunting him down with his team.

I don't pretend to know Arabic, Egyptian, or pseudo-Arabic, or whatever it is that Ra's al Ghul and his League of Assassins are using. So I Made Up Crap(tm).

Betrayal

===#===

There was a body in the hall.

Oliver's stomach clenched at the sight of the black hood, the leather tunic. But he knew, even as Diggle kept his gun leveled and approached, that it was not Malcolm Merlyn. The body was too slight, and there was a black arrow in its throat.

He crouched to make sure, anyway, while Diggle kept him covered. "She's dead." He stood, dismissing the unknown woman from his mind. Not out of callous disregard for human life, but because anything distracting him from his enemy would get him killed.

Sara waited a few steps ahead. Oliver read tension in every line of her body. Once the League brought down Merlyn, they might just turn their attention to the woman who had escaped their clutches. Momentarily, he wished Sara didn't have to be here. But there was no way he was going up against Merlyn again without all the allies he could muster. He moved forward with determination, his fingers tight on the string of his bow.

They passed through the derelict tenement, gutted and broken since the Undertaking. There were more bodies.

Diggle said, "Your friends don't seem to be doing too well."

"They're not my friends," Sara replied darkly.

They continued to the stairwell, ears straining for any sound, eyes digging into every shadow, looking for movement.

Diggle poked his head out to peer up the darkened stairway. City lights shone through dirty windows at various intervals. "This is one big death trap," he said. There was scant cover on the narrow stairs, and any enemy above had a distinct advantage. "We don't know what level he may have gone to."

"Archers like the high ground," Oliver said, taking the lead. "All the way to the top."

===#===

The roof had a bit more cover - the shed that housed the stairway door, a few low, broad ventilation shaft covers, some duct work at the far side. There was a construction crane looming up over the building from an adjacent site.

Oliver's eyes were drawn to it; he scanned its framework for any sign of his quarry. It nearly cost him an arrow through his neck. At the last moment, instinct made him dodge, and the shaft tore through a fold of his hood. "Spread out!" He tucked and rolled over his shoulder, making his arrows rattle in their quiver.

He shook the hood back out of his way as he came up, nocked an arrow, and fired. He was reaching for another even as the first was in the air. Merlyn dodged the shot, his own bow drawn, but he didn't fire, not at Oliver. He turned and launched the black arrow to Oliver's right.

Diggle cried out, but Oliver didn't stop or look. He shot arrow after arrow at the dark figure retreating into the shadows. He knew if he wanted to defeat this man, he would have to stay focused, not let anything distract him or sway his conviction.

He followed Merlyn into the maze of shadows, trusting Sara to flank him, trusting his honed reflexes to keep from getting shot.

They came to a clear area beyond the ductwork, punctuated by skylights. Oliver slapped a black arrow out of the air with the upper limb of his bow. Merlyn was out of arrows. He tossed down his bow and drew a pair of wicked blades. He settled his weight, legs bent, ready to move in any direction.

His eyes flickered within his cowl.

Oliver sensed Sarah coming up on his left, catching a glimpse of black leather and blonde wig from the corner of his eye. He pulled back on his bow, holding it at full draw, waiting for the right moment to unleash it in a kill shot.

There was a clang from overhead, the sound of metal hitting metal. Oliver flung a glance at the crane and saw a trio of ziplines extending from another building across the street. Silhouettes descended along the lines.

Behind Merlyn, more grappling hooks clutched at the top of the roof. The League was closing in.

"Ta Ehr el Safir!" the Dark Archer called.

What? Oliver didn't understand the words the man was saying urgently, some plea or challenge to the assassins, it didn't matter. Oliver pulled the fletching to his ear. If they wanted to claim this kill, they'd have to get in line.

Just as he released the string, a staff cracked down on his arm, driving the arrow into the concrete. Pain flashed intensely, but it barely registered over his surprise. "Sara? Wh-?"

The next blow caught him across the face, and he staggered back. A boot caught him in the chest. He reeled, trying to clear his vision, to mount a defense against this onslaught. His head pounded; he kept his arms up. The staff smashed into his ribs, driving the breath from his lungs. The low retaining wall caught him at the back of his legs and he tipped over, grasping wildly to catch himself, but there was only empty air.

His body tumbled weightlessly a moment. Blackness flooded his vision; he felt nothing of the impact.

===#===

There was a two-and-a-half foot goddamned stick poking through his arm. Diggle bit down hard on the pain and the panicked urge to pull it out. He scooted for cover against a ventilation fan housing. Dammit, he had to help Oliver and Sara.

Bracing himself, he looked at his arm. It wasn't so bad. There was a lot of blood, but it was just a skinny thing passing between the bones of his forearm. A big splinter. No cause for it to hurt so goddamned much.

He knew pulling it out would cause more damage, but he couldn't leave it sticking out of his arm. He gripped it and tried to snap the end off.

"Aaaah!" Shit! He quit when the edges of his vision went black. Okay, carbon polymer wasn't going to break as easily as good old-fashioned wood.

Diggle took a steadying breath... Then two and three. He couldn't close his right hand. Well, fine. He grabbed his fallen sidearm with his off hand. Then he levered himself to his feet, right arm held out awkwardly at an angle.

Trying to keep the arrow from bumping against his body, or any of the ductwork structures, he made his way through the shadow-checkered roofscape.

He heard someone fighting and sped up, caution be damned. This fight wasn't going to end without him. Not this time.

He stopped dead, sidearm half-raised, when he saw Sara push Oliver off the roof. His body remained frozen as she came towards him; he couldn't process what had just happened. "Sara, what the hell?"

That staff whipped out of nowhere and cracked against his skull.

Diggle dropped in a heap.

===#===

Sara turned back, her mind focused on the approaching assassins, counting... 13, 14, 15, 16. Subtracting two as she swept their legs from under them; but they'd be back in the fight soon enough. She had to get to Merlyn. He was surrounded, blades whirring in an deadly dance.

She threw herself at the assassins, cracking a skull, fouling an aim, her own staff a blur as she attacked furiously. A space opened up. She put her back to Merlyn's. "I'm here."

"Don't hesitate. Kill them all."

A tall order. But the solid authority of the Master's voice bolstered Sara's confidence. All she had to do was fight - if the League wanted Merlyn dead, they'd have to kill her first.

With a roar, she sprang forward. No hesitation.

===X===