Chapter 2
Darkness slowly engulfed Starling city, the sun lazily setting over the some half a million people whom lived in the high-rise apartment towers or rough housing of the Glades. The maze of streets were abuzz with activity; neon signs flashing, car headlights like rows of stars, and the fall of hurried footsteps on the concrete sidewalks.
This night was like any other, nightclubs opening with intimidating bouncers outside whom shoved any drunken revellers whom dared come close, snatches of music from clubs and dance floors mingled with the constant chatter of people. Thousands of people. All around there seemed to be life; from the open main streets to the little side ways that wound between the tall buildings that soared up into the dusky night sky.
Two men wound their way around the crowds of people out partying. It was almost Christmas and it seemed that everyone was taking the opportunity to get out, spend ridiculous amounts of money, and celebrate.
The two men both wore deep hoods that concealed, for the most part, their faces from prying eyes, making it exceedingly difficult to tell either of the two men's ages or facial descriptions. Both, however, made no attempt to hide their obviously strong buff figures and their alertness that clearly made them anything but an easy target.
This, combined with their aura of undulated confidence with a shady tone of darkness that they excluded, made passers-by leave them alone and hurry on their way. Making it easy for them to slip between the river of people; ducking, weaving and swaying at the right times, making it look almost too easy, moving far faster than any of the others on the street.
As they passed through the more affluent areas of Starling city, more and more people packed the streets, slowing even their unerringly graceful progress. Despite their hoods and vigilant stance, the men lost themselves in the crowd.
Were one to question anybody, sober or otherwise, not detail of the two would be remembered and yet they still retained their intimidating don't-mess-with-me impression that kept any from daring to try anything with them. It was that unique quality, that both of them learned to recreate and use to their own purposes, which made them so perfectly suited to the dangerous lives they lead.
The two men finally made it to their intended destination, a small typical American restaurant in the outer edges of the Glades; a little, almost run down, out-of-the-way bistro that had fake cameras and plastic chairs.
The two men encircled the place like a pair of hungry sharks, inspecting every possible exit and entrance point, the best place to sit without compromising their vision of the surrounds, noting anything that may help in the event of an attack. Their training, so clearly ingrained into their systems, that they just couldn't stay anywhere long without having assessed the danger and every possible way to attack and escape if need be. One may call it paranoia but to them it was just deeply in-built instinct.
The two men eventually decided that it was safe enough to enter the premises but they kept their vigilance as they were taught. Both of the men were immediately waved over by a young Asian woman and an older military man whose stance mirrored the other men's and his similar features marked him clearly as the young women's father. The two men sat with them at a carefully selected table that offered both the best protection in an attack and a clear view of both the rest of the room and the street outside.
The women was extraordinarily beautiful and graceful, tendrils of long black hair framed her softly smiling face. She wore a simple long black coat, which made her russet brown eyes look lighter but also framed her naturally ready stance.
Her father, sitting across from her, had the same pale skin, his facial hair stylized in a goatee, his black hair relatively long, brushing the sides of his ears. His expression was one of relaxed calmness but he was just as alert as his other three companions. The two men sat down and exchanged words in fluent Mandarin. It was only then that they decided it safe to remove their deep hoods that covered their faces from any curious onlookers.
The shorter man, whom visibly older than his companion, had short military cut black hair and a dark shadow of stubble lining his face. His skin was deeply tanned and was nicked by several deep silver scars. His eyes were the darkest of browns, like pools of darkness. He wore a leather jacket and combat boots and his expression was one of alert contentment.
The taller man also had dark hair, but unlike his companions it was unnatural – dyed – and his light brown eyes were actually contacts. His skin was unchanged however and was palest of the four despite spending many years in the sun. His face, unlike the others, was not of any variety of happiness. He was the tensest; like an attack, if there was to be one, would be on him, not his friends. Every small noise or unexplained action by anybody, in the restaurant or outside caused his eyes to flicker nervously.
"You right there, mate? You do realize the cameras are for show." Slade's signature smirk was about as infuriating as his condescending tone.
"I know. It's just…" Oliver sighed, almost unnaturally unsettled. This was not helped by his ordinary paranoia and general alertness.
"You will be fine, no one will recognize you." Shado was always the supportive one of their little group.
"Well actually…" Slade was cut off by Shado's exasperated glare. "I mean – no one is going to know it's you, mate. It's been five years, you'd have been long thought of as dead." A slight smile made its way on Oliver's face at how the much smaller women so easily dealt with his gruff brother of war and bloodshed, Slade.
"People see what they want to see." Yao Fei said simply, his English had now improved almost unrecognizably from when Oliver first met him on Lian Yu. He could now perfectly mimic accents and pass off as any predominantly English speaking country. But he had still kept to his signature few syllable words and few word sentences. As well as that irksome habit of using old wise quotes as the answer for all situations.
Oliver exhaled, and clenched his jaw but forced himself relax his posture slightly. The waitress sauntered over, arms full of menus and a notebook. She placed the greasy plastic covered menus on the table.
"Any drinks?" Oliver's nose twitched at the overwhelmingly disgusting smell of bubble-gum that invaded his personal space as the waitress leaned in close to him, showing off large amounts of her body thanks to her skanky uniform. Carefully keeping the sneer off his face, he glanced at the others seeing the answer in their eyes.
"Just water for us thanks." She nodded and walked off to serve another customer.
Slade's mouth twisted into a half-smile, which for Slade meant that he was about to say something extremely irritating, "You weren't kidding about the ladies being all over you, Royal."
"Very funny." Oliver said sarcastically, they all knew how touchy Oliver was when it came to his previous antics as a former playboy billionaire.
They picked out food from the rather pitifully small list and waited for the flirty waitress to come back for their orders. Yao Fei, Slade and Shado began to discuss small things, but Oliver was stayed quiet. The irrational feeling someone would recognize his voice somehow seemed to weigh heavily on his mind, despite his dyed hair, the brown contacts and even the fact his friends referred to him by the stupid nickname 'Royal'.
The name had seemed fine when still in China but now he was back in Starling City, it felt far too obvious, far too connected to Ollie Queen. He tried to relax but the feeling of an inevitable discovery tickled at the edge of his conscious mind.
To calm his mind he switched his focus to the small television on the bar. It was showing some rugby game, something Oliver was never interested in even before the Island. He focused his attention on the game, letting go of his fears, calming his tumultuous mind. The waitress came back with water and marked their orders on her small grubby notebook. He lifted up his glass and drank small sips, listening to the banter between Shado and Slade while watching the game.
It was the first time he had gone out publicly since first arriving in Starling City a few months ago, and he was understandably on edge.
…/|\...
The first to go down was Adam Hunt. Two hooded brothers, one dark warning and twenty-four hours. The police at first treated it as a joke, but one day later and forty million dollars returned to various bank accounts, and several men either hospitalized or in the morgue; the police of Starling City began to realise that this was no jest, these men were deadly serious.
And so the SCPD started looking for the 'Hoods' or the 'Onyx Dueller and Emerald Archer' as they were dubbed by the interfering Media. Several weeks later and the body count only got higher; some criminals, usually unimaginably wealthy, began to listen to the threats, but many – far too many – were not heeding the warnings, believing themselves above such coercions. And that mindset lead all whom did not listen to their messy demise.
The Starling City Police Department had not yet given up the search despite the fruitless results that they were yielding. Quentin Lance used to think that he only truly hated one man, Oliver Queen, but the outright callous boldness of the brother Vigilantes made him feel sick. They killed the illegally wealthy like it was nothing, always leaving clear evidence that proved them guilty of horrific crimes.
But there was something so distasteful about how they went methodically from one criminal to the next, ruthlessly executing them. Playing the judge, jury and executioner all at once. They may be killing the worst of the scum in Starling City but they were no heroes, they were worse than the criminals they hunted as they were more than just outside the law. They dared justify why they killed criminals. As if they were the true deliverers of Justice.
They inadvertently dared to make the underlying statement that the law was not enough, that only by going outside of the law were the true criminals were caught. For a man whom always believed that the law was the only way to serve justice, it was disconcerting to see people whom disregarded and disrespected all good values supposedly for the sake of 'Justice'.
Detective Lance understood sacrifice for the greater good but this was exceedingly extreme. These men had to be stopped before they turned their eyes away from criminals to the innocent. The damage they were doing was bad enough when they were working against the criminals, but with them – it would be something out of a horrific nightmare for the SCPD.
Detective Lance paced the length of the SCPD office, right in front of the cork board that had every useful media item (which wasn't many), evidence that they had collected from the multiple crime scenes (So many green arrows) and a few vague eye-witness accounts on the Vigilantes (If they had a superpower it would be making sure no one saw them properly).
Two skillfully drawn pictures took pride of place; one was of a green hooded man with thin stubble, a bow and arrow in his hands drawn back in a threatening manner, a quiver full of arrows on his back, mini arrow darts on his gauntlets, and his emerald tight-fitting leather attire. The other drawing was of a man with a black hood and a with thicker beard, two carefully crafted katana fastened to his back, a pair of handguns strapped to his thighs, various explosives clipped on his belt and across his chest, and a looser black leather outfit that was reminiscent of undercover military operatives.
Next to the drawings there was the estimated height and weight dimensions, and the list of possible and known skills of both of the Vigilantes; including the most worrying and recent report, a possible third vigilante using white and black fetcher arrows. There were also notes on a female in blue working with the Hoods but only vague reports were any useful evidence of a female vigilante.
A far smaller far less crowded but older cork board was next to the Vigilantes cork board with information on the Dark Archer, whom after the hostage episode clearly was not working with the other hooded Vigilantes. There was far less known about him as he was rarely active. But the best theories were that he was possibly a mercenary or some sort of serial killer who didn't appreciate the newcomers.
Lance for the first time in many years felt truly tired, tired of searching ineffectually for men whom disappeared with such ease he felt that he was failure of a detective to be so stumped by these cold hearted men. Men whom had no moral qualms and seemed only interested in killing those that displeased them and delivering their sick version of justice.
He just needed one piece of solid evidence that could help him find these elusive vigilantes. He sighed, looking at these pictures he still could find not one connection, nothing. It was if these men never existed or were considered dead by the all of the world. He warily picked up his phone and jacket and walked into the entrance room of the SCPD, where several of his colleagues were watching the news.
He nodded to them in a friendly manner. Many of these men had fought with him before, a good unit for a busy Saturday night. Especially when the time was ripe for another possible Hood attack. He pulled open the frosted glass double doors and was about to exit when a news headline caught his attention in the reflection of the doors. The Truth of the Queens's Gambit Sinking.
He spun around so fast it was surprising he didn't get whiplash. He ran across the room faster than he thought possible, and grabbed the remote, pumping up the volume. Listening in utter rapture to the news proclamation. His face paled, his eyes diluted in shock and his hands shook. Impossible. He fumbled with his phone, racing out onto the street, dialling Laurel and opening his car at the same time. Still processing the insane news that had just been told to him by the media.
Could it be true? Could the sinking of the Gambit not be as successful as everyone thought? Could there really be a survivor?
…/|\...
Hello my readers. Hope you enjoyed this new instalment in the Four Vigilantes (got to think of a better name – if anyone has any suggestions feel free to Review or PM me them).
Review if you want more. Thx.
*Darkmoon111*