Chapter Six: A Touch of Curare
"My name is Grant Ward. To my friends and family, I am the brother and friend who has just returned to them, after mysteriously disappearing fifteen years ago.
But what they don't know is that I've returned with a mission to bring justice to this city.
And they never can.
These men and women - the ones that I've been targeting - are dangerous, corrupt, cursing this city like a virulent cancer.
Cancers like James Holder, whose corporation put defective smoke detectors in low-income housing in The Glades. There have been too many fires… and far too many funerals.
But cancers can be fought and conquered, all it takes is a surgeon… and the right instrument"
Previously on Shadows of Starling
"This is the only photograph Interpol have on 'Deadshot', who our experts have identified as a Mister Floyd Lawton. Formally an Australian Army sharpshooter, who built his reputation on being the man that never misses his target, hence why I've decided to send in Agent Barton to assist you. We've received word on what we believe his latest hit to be, and I'm sending in your team in to detain him"
"And the details of the hit?"
"Most of the details remain unknown, all we have is just that it has something to do with Unidac Industries, which is being subjected to a liquidation auction. Stark has offered to lend us a hand on this one, and while Iron Man can't go rushing in there, he has agreed to help get you in there, under the guise of being members of his and Miss Potts' personal security team"
They all shared a nod, "Where's the auction taking place"
Fury smirked at them, raising his good eyebrow, "The exchange building… in Starling City"
"Well, other than the bill I was handed by my legal team this morning, I'm feeling pretty good about myself…", James Holder chuckled as he swilled the beer inside its bottle, his bathrobe doing little to combat the chill of the night air, but it was a pleasant cold. It was a cold of satisfaction, he thought, as he strolled along the edge of his penthouse pool, "okay then, I'll see you in the office, first thing"
He exhaled audibly as he hung up the phone, before shrieking as the arrow smashed his beer bottle in pieces, the shards causing little cuts across the skin of his unclothed shins. The bottle was completely shattered from the neck down, somehow leaving his hand unhurt, and he shivered lightly, as he turned to face the Starling City Vigilante that the media had begun calling 'The Hood'.
"I have armed security inside. All I have to do is call out"
"Go ahead, they can't hear you"
Ward kept an eye on Holder's attempt at giving him an unconcerned reaction, as he pulled out his security team's weapons and radios from where he had clipped them onto the back of his jacket, before he tossed them on the floor in front of him. It took all that he had not to revel in the sight as his bored anger and feigned nonchalance quickly morphed into an expression of raw fear.
"What do you want?"
"How many people died in those fires?" His voice became harsher, "How many?!"
He paused, taking a visible breath to calm himself, letting his disgust flow into his voice, as Holder swallowed in response, "The courts say you don't owe your victims anything. I disagree"
As he was threatening the night's victim, a red dot appeared on Holder's chest, and too late for him, he realized that it was a red dot LASER sight from a sniper rifle. There's two gunshots, and two holes in the man's chest, before the blood spattered across the deck from the twin wounds on Holder's chest, his body remaining upright for just a moment, before, lifeless, it fell into his pool.
The Hood wasted no time blindly returning an arrow as he turned, immediately moving and ducking for cover behind Holder's bar table.
There were four more gunshots in quick succession, he can hear each one bouncing of off the temporary shield he had, and that told him all he needed to know on just how good his opponent is. He can see the muzzle flash from the rifle, and there's no change in position, which means there's only one shooter, who's such a good shot that he can account for the rifle's constant recoil as he fires off multiple rounds.
The expert marksman isn't just some thug with a gun. He chose a perfect vantage point across the street, for both distance and cover, and either through meticulous planning or a happy accident for him, Ward's arrows don't have a far enough effective range to be of any use against him.
Unable to do anything useful, all he can do is hold his position until the firing stops, and then wait, not breathing and barely moving until he's almost certain that the shooter has fled. He waited a few extra minutes, just to be certain, before he stood back up, letting out a grunt of pain, as he does his best to ignore the bullet that grazed his right bicep, tearing the sleeve of his suit, as he checks on Holder.
Even if he wasn't certain that he was already dead, the sheer amount of blood filling the pool would have confirmed it. He watched it, as it mixed in with the seemingly pale blue water, creating a dark, murky mess that reflected onto his face, and slowly, he reached in, and turned the dead man other. Eyes widening in slight surprise as he took in the wounds. There was no way Holder was going to survive that shot.
It was a double-tap, with both bullets going straight to the heart, completely obliterating it, and if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, then he would've said that was near impossible to pull off from such a distance. It was better than anything he'd ever managed to do with a sniper rifle, which could only mean one thing.
The killer is potentially even more dangerous than he is.
And that worries him.
It takes less than ten minutes for him to make his way back to The Foundry, having jumped across a few rooftops, and returning to where he'd parked his motorcycle. Leaving it parked up for the night, he shrugged off the jacket and hood, tossing them onto a spare workbench, where he could deal with the repairs later, and grabbed the first aid kit for himself, so that he can start stitching himself up from the slight graze the bullet gave him.
He was too arrogant tonight, sloppy even, letting himself think he had control of everything around him, but he hadn't expected any other than himself to be there, and he should have.
Then again, it shouldn't be a surprise that a man as corrupt as James Holder has more than just me as an enemy.
He can still feel a burning sensation in his shoulder, which is odd, he thinks as he rolls it, trying to loosen it up, especially for him. Over the years he's just accustomed to pain that comes with his injuries, and it's far from the first time he's been shot.
Trying to shake his head clear, he finished the stitch and wiped it clean with a sterilising alcohol pad, before standing to grab one of the tablets he bought with the excess money he'd 'liberated' from Adam Hunt a fortnight ago. He'd barely taken a step when his left leg failed him, giving out the second he put any weight on it, and before he could take another step, it fell asleep, forcing him to grab hold of one of the steel tables, in an attempt to stay standing, as breathing became harder, and his mouth ran dry.
The bullet you idiot!
Poison.
Muttering a quiet curse to his own stupidity, he wasted no time grabbing his water bottle and diving for his old trunk, feeling both of his legs go on him, he twisted himself into a seated position as he hit the floor, and turned the lock's dials. Throwing the trunk open, ignoring the lid bouncing off the floor, he grabbed the small bag of herbs he had stashed in there, before shoving a pinch of them in his mouth and taking a long swig of his water.
He grimaced at the taste of them, they still tasted awful, even years later, but he knows from experience that they work. He has just enough sense left in his blurring mind left to place his bottle on the ground next to him, before his vision fades to black completely, and he slumps to the floor, unconscious.
"Come on Lance! At least admit it - Holder fits his profile - a wealthy dirt bag. Red meat for The Hood, and we recovered at least one arrow at the scene. Solid evidence that The Hood was here"
The raised eyebrow on Lance's face told him all he needed to know about the fact that his partner didn't agree with his assessment of the scene, "Yeah, he was there, only this time cause of death is a double tap straight to the heart, and our perp doesn't use firearms"
"Well maybe he's finally figured out that there's a quicker way to kill people that with a bow and arrow"
"Then why are there arrows here? He what? Disarmed the guards using his hands, and without firing a single gunshot, went outside and across the street to take a few shots at Holder, nabbing him twice in the chest, shoot up the furniture, and then came back to drop a few of his arrows on the floor. Even I gotta admit, that just doesn't add up"
Detective Hilton nodded slowly as he ran his hands through the scruff that made up his beard, "Alright then, so what now?"
"We wait for our ballistics-"
"Gentlemen, detectives even, good afternoon"
Both SCPD detectives turned in sync, to find a man dressed in a plain suit and tie, which he had paired with a set of plain sunglasses, heading straight towards them from inside of the apartment, flanked by a multitude of people, dressed in combat outfits, or clothes that made them look like children. The oldest man who had spoken offered him his hand, "I'm Agent Phil Coulson with SHIELD. These are agents May, Skye, Fitz and Simmons", he gestured to each agent as he spoke their name, "we're part of a team that has been ordered here to help with the investigation"
Lance's eyes lit up, "The Hood investigation?"
"No Detective, Interpol have asked us to help look into the murders of the various people looking to buy Unidac Industries. James Holder was the seventh man on the list of potential buyers that's been killed in the last two months", he turned to the two scientists, "FitzSimmons, take a look around the crime scene, let's see if we can get a handle on what we're dealing with"
The two detectives looked on as Fitz dropped the case he was carrying onto the floor, before snapping open the lid and releasing his DWARVES into the air, bringing out his tablet as they began to scan the area. Four of them took general readings, two of them scanned the body while another flew off into the distance, heading for where the shooter had been standing. He stared at the tablet for a minute, before pointing something out to Jemma, who 'hmmed' at what she saw.
"Agent Simmons? Would you care to share with the rest of the class?"
"Yes, err, sorry Sir. The bullet wounds to the chest were the cause of death, they completely obliterated his heart, but even if he'd survived the initial shooting, he would've died within an hour - the bullets were laced with Strychnos Toxicofera", at everybody's blank look she explained, "Curare Sir. It's a type of poison. A very rare type"
"We're dealing with poison bullets now?" Hilton's question to the group went unanswered as Fitz tapped away, looking up to the scene of the shooting, before flying back to his tablet.
"Detectives", he called out to them from his place on the floor, "did you say there were only five bullet casings recovered?"
"Yeah why?" Now that he had seen them in action, Lance didn't mind admitting he was impressed with the tech they had at their disposal, even if he didn't like them trying to take over his investigation.
"The amount of gunpowder residue left over for the size of the shells recovered indicates that there were six shots fired, so if you only managed to recover five bullets…"
"Then he must've gotten in a shot on The Hood. Even if the bullet only clipped him, the poison would've killed him by now, unless he had some kind of body armour on. Right?" Lance looked towards Simmons, who nodded, "And we know he only wears leather?" Hilton nodded as Lance let out a short laughed, "Guess I can go tell the captain the good news. The assassin got him. The bastard's dead"
The detective stepped off to the edge of Holder's balcony to make his call, it lasting over ten minutes before he returned to where the agents were having a conversation in hushed tones, except for the Scotsman, he was looking at one of the arrows, with a confused expression on his face. He broke apart the conversation by clearing his throat loudly, causing them to whirl around and face them.
"Yes Detective?"
"I had a uniform relay the Unidac Industries information back to the precinct, apparently, the list of bidders residing in Starling City only has two other people on it - the rest are flying in from other cities, a few of them are coming in from other countries"
Coulson nodded his understanding, as May asked, "Who are the two names?"
"There's a Karl Rasmussen and Walter Steele. I'm about to head over to Steele now, and Rasmussen can't be reached until tonight anyway - he's gonna be outta town on business 'til then. You guys are welcome to come along if you want?"
"Okay, Agents Skye and May - I want you to head back to The Bus, grab Agent Barton and start getting ready to move on Rasmussen when he lands, we'll need to question him the second we can. FitzSimmons, we'll head to the SCPD and set up shop there, Hunter and Morse can meet us there, and then Agent Morse and I will accompany the detectives to visit with Mister Steele, and I can arrange to meet up with Rasmussen later. Let's get moving"
From his spot next to his partner, Lance could barely hold back his scoff at the sight of the SHIELD Agent ordering his men around like a general, as with a roll of his eyes, he walked away with Hilton beside him.
"Aye aye, Captain"
"The bullets were laced with Curare. A rare and deadly poison. The killer's unique MO. I recognise the signature.
He's killed all over the world. Chicago, Wakanda, Corto Maltese. He even has his own codename.
Deadshot.
It suits him.
He's never missed his target.
Ever
I was prepared to give James Holder a chance to right his wrongs, but this Deadshot has no morality, no honour, and no code. He doesn't kill for justice, but offers his service out to the highest bidder, which makes him unpredictable, and therefore just as dangerous as anyone else on my list.
In fact, it puts him right at the top of it"
With an almighty effort and groan, Ward pulled himself up and back into a seated position from where he had fallen to the floor earlier. Feeling the desire to wash away the burning sensation in his throat, he grabbed what was left of his water bottle, and tried to chase it down his throat.
After a few minutes of hard breathing and squashing his nausea, he felt comfortable enough to attempt standing on his own power. With a light grip on the table, he hauled himself up and surveyed the damage.
His jacket still needed a stitch before he went back out into the field with it on, but there was no blood on it, which probably meant there was none at the crime scene either, or at least not enough to be used for anything remotely resembling a DNA test.
His tiny wound had been sewn shut, with his usual level of meticulousness, and other than the fact that he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he was just fine. It was however, clear to him that he was in no fit state to drive, but luckily, he had no meetings scheduled for the day, which meant he didn't technically have to go into the office.
Exhaling a small sigh of relief, he slid his cell phone out of his trouser pocket to let them know, he wouldn't be in today, and decided to repair his jacket before his brother and bodyguard arrived, as he idly wondered how he was going to explain this away to them.
"Well brother mine, what do you think? From what I've seen of your garage, you know more about different types of cars than just about anybody else that I know, is this a great place for the city's newest, biggest and best auto-repair shop or what?"
"Sweet", Tommy span around as they walked, taking in the size, while Grant led the way, having circled around from the exit to The Foundry, and Diggle followed quietly behind them. Grant had decidedly kept Diggle on as his security 'consultant', whilst Tommy had managed to get Rob to quit after just a day.
He didn't know whether to be impressed by that, or just slightly worried for his brother's safety.
In the end though, he had to concede, Tommy was an adult, and it was up to him to decide if he wanted armed protection or not.
"Private office" Tommy followed his hand, as he looked up towards the rafters, where he was pointing.
Tommy offered him a cheeky smirk, "For the private one on one meetings with the more particular clients, who show an interest in the cars, I would imagine?"
He shot him a cocky one of his own in return, "Hopefully there'll be the occasional two on one meeting"
Tommy laughed, "Hey, I like it, now how about tomorrow night, we go celebrate your pre-grand opening? You could use a night out - there's a new club opening down town. It's called Poison. An old friend of mine named Max Fuller owns it, he can hook us up"
He almost laughed at the irony of the name, and ignored the flare up in his shoulder at the memory, "Poison?"
"Yeah", Tommy's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "why?"
"No reason, but it sounds good. It'll be nice to see you in your natural habitat. Preying on the city's sexy, but slightly drunk women"
Tommy stared at him funnily, frowning slightly, before his phone rang, giving him a reprieve.
"Aw dammit, I gotta roll, see you later man. Nice place though", he tapped his shoulder, before nodding at Diggle, "bye big guy", and leaving the two men alone.
"Well", he looked towards the former Special Forces operative, who kept his blank expression firmly in place, "what do you think Digg?"
"Well, this is The Glades. The rich white people in Starling wouldn't come here on a bet"
"Well yeah, but I am a hot topic in town right now, and Tommy'll help, so a few people should be standing in line, or parking I suppose, when we open our doors, and besides I'm not interested in them"
"Oh?" Digg raised an eyebrow at him, "So what then? You hope the people in The Glades will be the ones bringing their cars here?"
"You're not wrong Digg, see I had an idea, other than the management who I need to hire for their levels of experience, we'll only employ local workers. See, it's my experience that people from places like The Glades make excellent workers, and they can work on local machines, at fair prices, and if we can make it a successful business, then we can work to gentrify the neighbourhood. Who knows? Maybe I'll start a chain of small businesses-"
"I was wondering when we would get to that", at Ward's confused look he continued, "the white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised, and all by his lonesome"
"I won't be alone, the people here will be the ones putting the work in, and you, well, you really have a low opinion of me, don't you?"
"Actually Sir, I have no idea what to think of you"
Before he could come up with a reply, his phone beeping inside his jacket interrupted them and their brewing debate. He pulled it out, sliding it open to read the message, before a small frown creased his forehead, deepening as he reached the end.
"Please Digg, keep thinking that", he locked the phone, dropping it back into his jacket pocket, "come on, we have to go"
In a rush to leave, he almost missed Digg muttering, "Since when do you tell me when you have to go somewhere?"
"The shop will serve more than one purpose. The constant influx of money should help conceal any materials I need to help with my crusade, and running a shop like this means that my gear will always be nearby if it needs repairing, hidden in The Foundry below.
I'll need to make sure that no one looks at the basement too closely if I want to place an entrance to The Foundry in there, but with time, I can use the shop to turn the abandoned sewer into a real hideout.
I just need time.
I might not get it"
Still wearing his favourite brown leather jacket, he strolled into his office at Merlyn Global, ignoring the disapproving stares of some of the other senior management personnel, as he ignored the desk meant for his personal assistant, which he had yet to fill, and left Diggle standing at the door, as he made his way to his desk.
He slid into his desk chair, tapping the top button of his tablet, and watching as the overly-powered device flashed into existence, the button having recognised his fingerprint.
He gave the keyboard and mouse a few clicks to make it look as though he was logging in, while all he was really doing was opening a shadow programme that he had had Fitz help him 'borrow' from Skye's laptop while he was recovering a few months ago.
And all it took him was an extremely large bag of double-chocolate cookies.
A small part of him took a moment to worry about how easily their security had been bought.
Now, it was masking everything he was doing on the company's server, by making it look as though he was simply working on a personal and private excel file, while in reality, he was tracking the SHIELD ping his phone had given him.
He let the information flow across the screen as his eyes darted forwards and backwards to read it all, and inwardly, where Diggle couldn't see his reaction, he grinned.
SHIELD and The Hood were apparently now chasing the same shooter.
All Ward had been able to find was a codename, but they had some information that he hadn't been able to dig up. He took a note of anything important, and made sure to remember it for later. The poison-laced bullets were going to be tricky though, he only wore leather when he was out, it was after all, much lighter and easier to move in than any sort of body armour, but it offered no protection from bullets.
The Unidac Industries link was something he wouldn't have considered trying to look for either. Mercenaries like Deadshot typically killed one or two people per city, per visit, but Unidac made him reconsider that.
It gave him a potential victim list of nearly forty buyers, plus everyone else who would be there for the auction, which included a lot of civilians.
And the best way to stop that, would to be to take Deadshot out of the equation before the auction even started, and from his peek into the messaging software, he could see when they had discussed paying a visit to a returning Karl Rasmussen in a few hours.
"Diggle!"
The man in question stepped through the door, as he tucked the tablet under his arm, "Please call for the car, I think I'll be spending the rest of the day at home. You are dismissed, oh, and don't make plans for tomorrow evening"
"What's this evening Sir?"
"The Unidac Auction", at the silent question he continued, "while Merlyn Global won't be bidding, it will be an excellent networking opportunity for me to establish a range of contacts, as well as hopefully make some new potential clients and investors. It starts at seven-thirty, you will pick me up at six"
The other man stared at him, while he pretended not to notice, as he collected his messenger bag from under his desk, "Very well Sir. I will see you tomorrow then"
"Karl Rasmussen is yet another name on the list Garrett gave me, and if he's the one ordering the hits on the Unidac buyers then he needs to be stopped, but if he's a target, then I can't let Deadshot get to him.
The Hood needs to get to him first.
I need to get to him first"
The private parking lot that was connected to the executive entrance, was well hidden away from any potentially prying eyes. It sat away from everywhere else, shrouded in darkness, with the only source of light being the streetlights overhead. Having left the plane and gone through a much quicker passport security than regular people, Karl Rasmussen made his way towards where he had his car parked, briefcase in hand, where his Unidac papers were stored.
Placing the briefcase on the roof of his silver Mercedes, he kept his latte in his left hand, while trying to retrieve his keys from where he'd put them inside of his coat, pulling them out just before a voice called out to him, startling him, and causing him to drop the coffee he'd been looking forward to.
"Mister Rasmussen?"
"Son of a-"
Swallowing the plethora of curses in his throat, he span around, intending to give the nosy bastard a piece of his mind, only to come face to face with several people, one of which had one of the city's detective shields displayed proudly on his belt.
Great, just… great…
"My name's Phil Coulson, I'm an agent with SHIELD, we'd like to you about Unidac Industries"
"Not interested"
Letting Coulson do the talking, given that it was his specialty, May chose to scan the area around them, aware that Barton, was doing the same thing, while Skye shadowed Coulson. The four of them had chosen to come, leaving the others back in the SCPD precinct, where they would hopefully remain out of trouble.
It was a nice spot, she decided, an enclosed space which would protect them from any kind of sniper rifle attack - they were too tightly boxed in for any sort of straight shot to be viable, so either Deadshot needed to start developing magic bullets, or he would need to get in closer.
Hopefully close enough for them to take him down.
And that's when she realizes the mistake they've made.
Cursing herself for acting like a damn rookie, she moves trying to tackle Rasmussen out of the way.
"Get DOWN!"
A hail of bullets resounds around them.
They're in an enclosed space, where they're bunched together in a tight group, an awful location for a sniper to take a shot in, great for defence, but also an ideal target area for a man using some sort of machine gun, especially for an assassin who's reportedly been known to use two of them mounted on his wrists.
Barton pulls Coulson down with him, as she attempts to drag Rasmussen with her, and she takes note of Detective Lance making it to cover beside her.
Where's Skye?
Peeking over the top of the car, she sees Skye standing face to face with Deadshot, his face covered in the same white mask Interpol had photographs of, with his right eye covered by the giant red eyepiece, which almost certainly helps with reading his environment, she's sure of it.
Her attempt to stand is met with a fresh storm of bullets, and she lets out a frustrated yell, which is matched only by the matching look on Coulson's face as the master assassin effortlessly pins the four of them into place.
Barton snaps up, firing an arrow off, before ducking down in one smooth movement, hoping to take the marksman out, but Deadshot doesn't miss a beat. Using a bullet from the pistol he had holstered at his hip, he split the arrow mid-flight, firing it off over Skye's shoulder, who let out a small shriek, which he follows up with a second barrage of machine gun fire, keeping them pinned down.
They're all boxed in with nowhere to go.
"So darlin'", his light Australian accent rings through his words, tempered by his years abroad, "I don't usually do this when there's no one payin' me, but you got in the way, so, any last words for me?"
He can see her trembling hands slowly trying to inch towards the weapon she has on her hip. She's scared, a rookie agent definitely, but she's trying so very hard to not show it, and he licks his lips in anticipation, it's been a long time since he's done one like this.
He raises his right wrist, aiming for her heart, quick, clean and painless, when he hears the whistle of an arrow flying through the air. He acts on the instincts he's perfected over his entire career, lowering his left arm just in time for the arrow to not shatter his wrist, but embed itself through the side of his barrel.
His gaze swings around, keeping his other weapon trained on the girl, and immediately scanning the best vantage points, looking for the Starling City Vigilante when the voice cuts through the air, electronically disguised, but still crisp and clear, with the underlying growl sending a tingle of anticipation down his spine.
"Deadshot! You have failed this city!"
Clad in dark green leather, The Hood dropped from the side of the buildings on a zip-line, his bow in his left hand, landing with his right drawing back the bowstring immediately.
There's no time to waste.
The distraction was all Skye needed to dive behind the car, escaping the assassin's sights, and joining the others, much to the relief of May and Coulson. Detective Lance's hand drifts to where he has his own weapon holstered, in an attempt to draw his gun on The Hood, but a warning glare from May had him standing down.
They watched as The Hood let his nocked arrow loose, and Deadshot dodged to the side, firing as he moved backwards, and causing the vigilante to take cover of his own, moving behind one of the other cars.
Acting on the same wavelength, Hawkeye moved out at the same time as The Hood, the two archers leaping their covers, firing off their arrows, and alternating their shots, between letting the other shoot and ducking for cover as they tried to advance, either one of them hoping for a single, successful, hit.
By the time the firing from Deadshot stopped firing at them long enough for them to get a good look around, there was the unmistakeable sound of tires squealing on tarmac, and the master assassin was already trying to flee by car.
The two archers leapt the last of their barriers, both men drawing and firing a final arrow, in an attempt to stop the car before it was too late, but the master assassin was smart enough to know how fast he needed to be, and was already out of their immediate range.
The two of them turned in sync, facing each other, both thinking that SHIELD would definitely want The Hood brought in for questioning, if not to outright recruit him.
Hawkeye's fingers twitched towards his quiver, and The Hood lashed out. His fist planted itself onto the Avenger's nose, which was followed up by a knee to his gut, sending the SHIELD agent sprawling to the floor.
The vigilante darted off as Hawkeye rolled backwards, back to his feet, and firing an arrow off, aiming straight for the other man's thigh, putting a stop to his leaving. Not breaking his stride, The Hood span mid-step, using his bow as a tool to knock the arrow out of the air, as his spare hand drew his own arrow.
The dark green archer didn't hesitate in firing an arrow back, which Hawkeye had to stop and catch, while The Hood had sent his grappling arrow off towards the roof of the nearest building, allowing it to pull him up and away. The sound of ICER fire greeted them, as the SHIELD agents finally opened fire, but they were too late, he'd disappeared onto the roof, and Hawkeye didn't have a grappling arrow - he'd found that he rarely used them while he was one the job.
I might have to start carrying one if this becomes a regular thing.
"Help… me"
Drawing their attention back to him, they all turned to find their original goal for the evening lying on the floor, where Karl Rasmussen lay dying, with the blood leaving his body from twin holes in his chest.
In the background they were aware of Lance calling for an ambulance, watching as Coulson attempted to halt the bleeding with his jacket, fighting to save the man's life, despite knowing that the poison would most likely kill him in mere minutes anyway.
It was almost a relief when the light left his eyes, and he struggled no more.
"Deadshot is what he always has been - a hired gun, working for the money, but the question is who is he working for, and why is Unidac so important to them?
I've got no skill with computers - a known weakness of mine - and there's no one I can trust to help me do this. The money trail I've located leads back to a company called The Thelgith Corporation, but they're an overseas shell company that I have no way of sourcing.
I've got nothing here, and I'm no closer to stopping Deadshot than I was yesterday.
If SHIELD hadn't been there, then I could've taken him down yesterday, but they got in my way, and now, another man has paid the price
I need to be better than this"
"Come on guys! So we lost today, that just means that we have to try again, even harder, tomorrow"
As tired as he was, Coulson couldn't help but smile a little at Skye's endless optimism, which was bolstered by the fact that both Fitz and Simmons agreed with her.
"You know what?" Standing up from where she had been lounging across the meeting room table they'd been given to work in, Bobbi drew everyone's eyes to her, "I could really go for a few drinks"
"Yes!" Hunter surged to his feet, from where he had almost fallen asleep in a desk chair, "Now you're talking sense"
Across the room from the, May rolled her eyes, and got up to leave the room, with Barton quickly following after her, still upset from his failed attempt to take down The Hood earlier.
"Don't do anything too crazy"
Ignoring their squeals of delight form behind him, Coulson idly wondered just how much trouble the younger members of his team could get into.
"G'night Jones"
"G'night Lance"
The car park was empty as he fumbled for his keys, feeling in desperate need of some well-deserved rest, they had some really useful stuff, but the SHIELD team he'd been sent were really putting his head through the ringer with the Deadshot case.
They were a nice group, mostly, but half of them were kids, who barely seemed to know what was going on in the real world around them.
As he found the key to his car, he withdrew his hand out of his pocket, before someone wrenched his arm from behind him, yanking it up into a position that made him want to yell out in pain, even as someone pushed him onto the hood of his car face-first.
"Detective"
With his voice distorted through the hood his suit, The Hood's growl came out deeper than usual, and Quentin felt his anger levels skyrocket.
"Listen to me you son of a bitch-"
"Somebody hired Deadshot to take out the buyers targeting Unidac Industries. His best chance now is to strike everybody at the auction tomorrow and I can't protect everybody in a space that size. He uses a seven point six-two millimetre round laced with a poison called Curare. Interpol call him Deadshot because he never misses his target. You can look this up after I leave-"
"The only way you're leaving is in-"
He silenced the detective by pulling his arm higher, to a point where making any noise that wasn't a scream would be difficult.
"The bullets are laced with poison. Tell your men to wear Kevlar"
Lance flinched when he heard the 'CRUNCH', and waited for his body to register feeling the pain of a shattered bone, or at least a dislocated shoulder, but instead felt nothing. Controlling his breathing, he looked up to see the arrow that had been left behind as a signature, the only clue, other than the pain in his shoulder that The Hood had really been there at all.
Turning back to the arrow, he plucked it out of his car's bonnet, and let out a small groan and the hole left behind.
The front of his car was ruined.
Grant Ward descended the stairs to the Unidac auction, flashing his Merlyn Global business card with a smile, Diggle keeping his pace a standard three steps behind him. He absently ran his eyes over the area, scanning the place, and was pleased to note that Diggle was doing the same, and though was much less subtle about it, he was much more focused than he was.
By his count, there were seventeen police officers scattered throughout the room, six women and eleven men, dressed both, in their uniforms and in suits and dresses, attempting to blend in as guests, as well as Coulson's team.
Hunter and Simmons were posed as a wealthy British couple interested in buying the company, and he could hear the biochemist trying, (and failing), to blend in at convincing the people around her as to her fake identity. Bobbi and Skye were intermingled as invited guests, while Coulson, May and Mack were acting as members of Stark's personal security team, with the billionaire in question stood in front of them, chatting away with Malcolm, who looked as though he wanted to be anywhere else than where he was.
The four men and May were all dressed in black suits and ties, while the other women all wore appropriate cocktail dresses. Simmons was dressed in a knee-length pale peach dress and matching heels, which matched up with Hunter's tie, though the trained eye could tell that while it was a nice dress, it was a poor fit for her, and he assumed it belonged to someone else. Skye's was done in a pale gold that complimented her skin and hair well, but it was the slightly too-short cut for this type of gathering, which reinforced his belief that both women were wearing SHIELD clothing, but was stood out by far was the bright red colour of Bobbi's that caught his eye.
Or rather, it was the way it, combined with the small, nude heels she was wearing made her legs seem even longer than they were, and he couldn't stop his eyes from following.
From his place behind him, Diggle coughed into his hand lightly, breaking his concentration, and from the way the other man was avoiding looking at him, it was obvious he'd been caught staring. Bobbi didn't turn around to face him fully, and though she wouldn't look at him, he caught sight of a smirk playing on her lips, letting him know she'd seem him.
It seemed that being a field agent experienced at undercover work was actually a benefit to a girl's wardrobe.
He tried not to look too guilty, as he made his way over to where Malcolm was starting to look ready to leave via the nearest window, pulling the older man into a handshake-hug combination, and pulled him away from Stark for a brief moment.
"Thank God you're here"
He whispered it quietly, through clenched teeth, so that only he could hear him, and based on his own brief passing encounters with Stark in the past, where they'd never even had to talk, he couldn't blame the older man one bit.
Stark extended his hand in greeting, which he grasped firmly, but the older man shot him a curious look as he did so. Feeling his eyebrows scrunch together, into a frown, the billionaire forced a polite smile onto his face as they shook hands.
"I'm sorry, have we met?"
He noticed Pepper Potts make her way to Stark's side, handing him a glass of scotch, as she held her own drink in a flute.
"Not personally, no, but I have worked with your security team in the past. I'm actually surprised more of them aren't here tonight"
He watched as her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but before she could respond to him, he decided to proceed with 'saving-Malcolm' plan, turning to face his brother's adoptive father.
"I've just spotted a few of the executives for Stellmoor International attending to the hors d'oeuvres downstairs. If you still want to try and wrangle a meeting with them, they're currently eating, drinking, and most likely in a good mood. I imagine that right now would be your best chance to convince them"
As Malcolm disappeared into the crowed, after giving Stark a soft apology and shooting him a grateful look, Ward didn't bother trying to linger around, and answer Pepper's questions. With Diggle at his back, he tried to head for the bar, where he felt the need for a drink, before a tight grip on his arm stopped him.
Mack had grabbed him while he wasn't looking.
Diggle stepped forward immediately, and Mack let go in reaction, but that didn't stop May and Coulson from joining them, nor did Stark seem in any hurry to call them away.
"We need to talk"
"I'll pass"
"I don't think you will"
The force behind Mack's voice intensified, as he stepped forward, trying to loom over him. With almost anyone else, Mack would've come off as intimidating, but he was used to being taller than the people he threated, which he wasn't with Ward, even before Diggle, who was slightly shorter than him, put himself between the two of them.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step back"
Mack weighed his options, before reluctantly taking an obvious step backwards, falling into a line with Coulson and May, who both looked somewhat concerned, and putting a hand on Digg's shoulder, Ward stepped around him, standing face-to-face with the trio.
"I'm here to work", he stressed the last word, treating them as he would a child, and he saw their anger flare in response, "I have an actual job to do, and if you put your hands on me again, everyone here will suddenly find out that SHIELD has come to the auction, and no doubt want to know why. I suggest you keep your distance if you want to maintain your cover. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a drink, and then see if I can convince Ray Palmer that we're the ideal company to build his new green global headquarters"
Reluctantly, the three of them decided to stay quiet and keep their cover, which meant they had to follow Stark as Pepper dragged him away in an attempt to keep the peace, and the former specialist found himself free to head to the bar, where he wasted no time in ordering a neat scotch, while Digg declined the offer of one.
A short drink took the edge off from his interaction with his former team members, and helped to keep him in a better mood than the scowling he was about to fall into.
Declining the offer of a re-fill, he picked up a ginger ale in a champagne flute, and made his way around the room, greeting the clients he'd already met during his time at Merlyn Global, while also trying his best to make a good first impression with everyone he was being introduced to.
"Detective"
He used the man's title as a greeting, given that any attempt at politeness he went for was sure to be rebuffed, and Lance turned around with a questioning gaze, looking for the source, but it quickly became one of irritation when he caught sight of him.
"Ward. What do you want?"
"I just wanted to say thank you, for being here"
Lance shot him a look of disbelief, before scoffing as he walked off, calling in for a radio check, and doing his best to ignore the bane of his recent life, as he danced around the city's one-percenters.
"Hey handsome", he stiffened slightly, as he felt fingers run around the back of his neck, while she whispered in his ear, "how about a dance?"
He bit back a groan as Bobbi stepped from behind him, running a finger down his tie, as she kept her teasing smile on her lips, and before he knew what was going on, she had pulled him onto the dancefloor.
Luckily, he'd been trained for just such an occasion.
His right hand found her left, somehow devoid of champagne flute as his other hand settled on the small oh her back, while her spare hand found its place on his shoulder, and she used it to pull him in close, until they were practically stuck together.
He swallowed, and she grinned at him, barely looking up at him, as her small heels gave him a half-inch of height on her at most.
If she'd worn normal heels she'd definitely be taller than him. He'd never been with a woman bigger than him before, and he idly wondered how that'd feel.
"How've you-", he cleared his throat when his question lodged itself in there, and if it was possible, her grin grew even wider, "how've you been?"
"I've been fine, and you?" She smoothed down the non-existent creases on his jacket's lapel, "Mister Billionaire-"
"Malcolm's the billionaire", he interrupted her, staring intently at her, as she grinned at him while they continued to dance, "Tommy, my brother, Malcolm's son, is also a billionaire. I just work for Malcolm's company"
"For which you get paid a lot of money"
"Well, it's true what they say you know?" At her raised eyebrow, he continued, "it's not what you know, but who you know. Also, I never realised you were so shallow - how did I miss that?"
She rolled her eyes at him in response, and gently rested her head next to her hand, on his shoulder, while they continued to dance, letting the soft sound of the small orchestral band wash over them.
"How long are you going to be in town for?"
"Probably a few days, mission, clean up, paperwork. You know how it goes, why?"
"Let me take you to dinner"
Slowly, as to not jostle about too much, she raised her head to look at him, "Like a real date?"
He nodded, "I know we haven't actually had one before, but if you don't want to that's fine, but-"
"I want to"
He grinned at her, and she felt herself smile in response, "I'm glad. Tomorrow then? I can pick you up at seven?"
"That would be nice. The Bus is parked at Starling International - I'm staying there, splitting a bunk with Simmons"
"Okay then. Tomorrow it is"
"Okay"
The two of them continued to sway lightly, in silence while the other couples were busy talking business or gossiping. For Ward, it was nice to just be with someone while it was peaceful for once, and not have to worry about gunfire and knives.
There was no way it could have lasted.
He had his head resting on the top of hers, with his back to the room, so when the target came in, it was Bobbi that saw it first, spinning around him, even as everyone else moved.
Without hesitation, Detective Lance barrelled across the room and tackled Walter Steele, the man they'd interviewed earlier. Ward struggled to figure out what was going on, before he heard the gunshot, which shattered a tower of glasses, behind where Steele's chest should've been.
Time to go to work.
Lance hauled Steele to his feet and pulled him from the room, aware of the SHIELD agents scanning the perimeter, he placed his body between Steele and the windows as more shots were fired off. As Deadshot started picking off more targets.
While Bobbi ran off to regroup with her fellow agents, Ward was aware of Diggle appearing at his side, his gun already drawn, as he prepared to get him out of there and to safety.
"Sir-"
"Where's Malcolm?"
"Already clear Sir, but I need to get you-"
"No!" He helped two women, neither of which looked any older than eighteen to their feet, from where they were cowering under a table, "Help them, and help get anyone else you can out of here. That's an order Diggle"
He didn't give him any time to protest, as he made his way to the fire exit furthest from the window, stopping only to help a few people who had fallen get back up, while SHIELD and the SCPD began figuring out a way to get the civilians out of harm's way.
A quick look was all he needed to make sure that no one was looking his way, before he slipped into the stairwell.
The sad part about being one of The Avengers, was that none of them wore masks, and the ones that did in costume (Stark and Rogers), were far too recognisable to be discrete, or even have a private life.
It was for that reason that he had kept his entire family as far out of the way as possible.
The downside of that, was that he couldn't be on the ground to help the others, after all, what better way was there to flush out a marksman, than with another marksman, but on the upside, from his vantage point, across the street, if Deadshot decided to go long range, then it wouldn't take him long to get there.
He was glad for the new thermal tech lining his vest, helping him combat the early night chill as he kept vigil, using his binoculars to track the movements of the people inside, paying particular attention to the kids.
He watched on as the four younger members of the team began to rub elbows with some of the nation's privileged elite. Hunter relaxed into the undercover work with an ease that shocked the archer, forcibly reminding him that the man was both SAS trained, and a former mercenary - a well-paid one at that. His partner for the night, Simmons, was the complete opposite. The SHIELD-issued dress wasn't a great fit for her, making her stand out and him think that it was borrowed. She really didn't do deception well, but it was lucky that Hunter was (mostly) capable of covering for her slips.
Skye was stuck somewhere in the middle of the other two, in his opinion. She was able to blend in well with the larger crowds, smiling and laughing when it was appropriate, and it probably helped that her dress was a much better fit too, but when she was approached in smaller groups, or one-on-one, then it was clear that she didn't know what to do, and she stood out, looking clearly like a fraud.
Morse, however, was the complete opposite to Simmons, and she was working without the one disadvantage Hunter had - having a partner. Her dress was her own, no doubt one she had procured for another job at some point in her career, and she had more than enough training to blend in to any of the situations she needed.
He decided that it was time to stop keeping an eye on her when she dragged the former HYDRA agent onto the dancefloor, where they looked far too comfortable for his tastes.
Not that it mattered to either of them what he thought.
He spent time flicking through all of the others, avoiding looking at the dancefloor, and making sure to get a look at as many guests as possible, though he wasn't sure how much help that'd be, seeing as how no one knew what Deadshot looked like under his mask.
He continued his scan of the room, keeping an eye on Stark and Pepper who were the two most likely to be shot at - Stark doubly so without his suit on.
He knew he'd missed something when one of the cops began barrelling across the room, only for gunshots to follow seconds later.
He was already on the move by the time the second shot fired.
Knowing that Diggle, SHIELD and the SCPD were more than capable of handling the evacuation, he made his way up the stairs, tapping his belt buckle before he reached the line of sight for the first camera, not feeling the low level EMP blast that knocked it out of commission.
Flying up the stairs, he reached the landing, as well as the metal trash can that sat there. He wasted no time in opening the bag, where he found his suit and tools in the bag he had stashed there, when he had broken in in the early hours of the morning, when security was at its laxest, and pulled it out.
Once he was two floors away from the roof, he pulled off his shirt, jacket and trousers, revealing his under-gear, which had made sure to wear under his tux, which he then began to swap with his vigilante alter-ego's protective gear.
While he hadn't seen the first shot, getting a look at the others gave him the chance to see the muzzle flash, and while everyone else was busy helping the people being shot at, it allowed him to mark out Deadshot's rough location, which was all he needed. When he reached the door to the roof, he stashed his bag, now holding his formalwear, inside of the stairwell, before he burst onto the roof.
He took a moment to look for the window he'd seen the gunfire from, and then looking to the one next to it, he fired off his grappling arrow.
He rolled in through the smashed window, firing off two quick arrows, before ducking behind a concrete pillar as Deadshot opened fire, his wrist mounted cannons letting loose a hailstorm of bullets, sending bits of concrete flying past him.
Spinning out, he let another arrow fly as he dove towards Deadshot, spinning his bow in his hand, allowing him to use it as a quarterstaff as he tried to force the assassin into hand-to-hand, restricting the use of the master assassin's weapons of choice.
He blocked a wild left and right, before sending him falling back with a kick to the chest. He dove for cover again as Deadshot opened fire during his fall, his muted laugh mocking him.
"I gotta say man, that I am a big fan of your work. Don't suppose you'll be extending me any professional courtesy?"
"We're not in the same line of work! Your profession is murder. You're a piece of scum who kills for money!"
"You've taken lives!"
He swallowed, remembering all the lives he'd killed, for SHIELD, for HYDRA, and the few he'd taken as the vigilante. Their faces, an assault on his memory.
"Only for the good of others"
Deadshot opened fire again. He didn't think, on instinct, he just let his body react.
Spinning around his cover, he fired an arrow blindly, hearing the thunk of an arrow sinking into flesh, and the sound of a body hitting the floor.
He peeked around, seeing an arrow sticking out of Lawton's left eye.
Is he dead?
Is that another name I need to add to my ledger?
Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he relaxed slightly, if nothing else, his target was definitely neutralised for the moment.
Hearing a groan from behind him, he span, one hand shooting out to reach for his flechettes, he saw one of Coulson's missing team members collapse to the floor.
There, along the left arm of the arching Avenger, were bullet grazes, from where Deadshot's bullets had nicked his skin, as the other man had tried to sneak up on the two of them whilst they fought.
The shattering of glass drew his attention, and he turned just in time to see the world deadliest marksman diving out of one of the windows, leaving an arrow coated with his blood behind, and inwardly, Ward cursed.
There were two choices - save the hero, and there wasn't a guarantee that he could, or stop the assassin, who was already wounded and would be easy pickings for him.
Both options would mean one more death today, and many lives saved in the future.
What am I supposed to do?