Above All Else, Part 3

CONTENT:

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Action/Adventure

Language: a bit

Violence: yes

Nudity: none

Sex: none

Other: none

Author's Note:

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. It's just that it takes place in the real world, so I have to have real world names. They do not refer to anyone specific.

About Race: this story contains characters of various ethnicity. Some people consider it racist to mention a character's race. However, if you leave that off, most readers (of any ethnicity) assume white, and if you make a story comprised of entirely white characters, that is racist. So one can describe a character's ethnicity without referring to race, but there is the contingent that holds that using any type of food product to describe skin colour is offensive. This includes not only mocha but peaches and cream as well. Probably even corn silk hair, although corn silk technically isn't edible.

Since this story is not about racism, but classism and sexism, the race of each character makes no difference whatsoever. Therefore, I have pretty much left it vague. I'm not happy with this choice, as I feel the character descriptions suffer, but I suppose it doesn't matter what they look like, anyway.

Ebonics derived from listening/watching too much Eddie Murphy. Eddie Murphy does not appear in, nor does he endorse this fanfic.

Name brands used with wild abandon. All brands belong to their respective trademark holders. None of them endorse this fanfic either.

Bloodsong proves not to be the only one who sucks at coming up with cool names. My characters do, too. Imagine that. :X Bloodsong also talks too much and writes author notes that are WAY too long. Shutting up, now.

Above All Else, Part 3

===#===

Verdant Basement

The men checked their gear. Malcolm and Oliver had their leathers; Diggle wore his casual streetwear and his hoodie. Oliver sprayed the cammo paint over his eyes to help mask his features.

"Now, we all remember the plan," he said.

"I'm taking the front," Diggle replied.

Malcolm added, "I'm on the roof across the street."

Oliver nodded. "And I'll take the second floor window at the back." He looked to each of his comrades in turn. "Our one and only objective is the safety and liberation of the little girl, Crystal Thompson." Malcolm waited for him to also add 'no killing' to the directive, but wisely, Oliver stayed silent on the matter. Criminals who preyed on the innocent didn't deserve to live. "Get into position and report. We don't know how many guys we'll be up against. Wait for my command before going in." He looked at Malcolm. "You still have the earpiece I gave you?"

"Yes." He took it out and they did a quick comms check. Malcolm hooked it over his ear. "What names do you use?"

"Um... Oliver and Diggle." Oliver shrugged.

Malcolm looked between him and his man Diggle. "Seriously? You don't use code names?" They looked sheepishly at each other. "You do realize that any kid with a Radio Shack kit could conceivably jack your signal and post your conversations to YouTube." By the look on their faces, no, they didn't. He suppressed a sigh. "Fine. Mr. Diggle, you were in the military. Did you have a call sign?"

"Just Digger." He shrugged.

"All right, if you're happy with that. Oliver?"

"As long as it's not 'The Hood Guy.'"

"Or 'Green Arrow,'" Malcolm remembered from the Christmas dinner.

"It sounds like a traffic signal," Oliver complained.

"Look," said Diggle, pointing. "Green Archer, Black Archer, Base."

"What if you're not at the base?"

"Then it's 'bass' like bass guitar." He mimed an air guitar. "The back-up man."

"Fine," Oliver agreed.

"All right, but since the police are looking for archers, can we leave that part off?"

"Green and Black?" Diggle asked.

"Fine," Oliver agreed again.

Diggle looked at Malcolm. "I guess that makes you the black man in this operation." The Dark Archer just rolled his eyes.

===#===

Coldwell Street

Diggle strode down the street, his shoulders hunched, his hood up. He peered sidewise at the barber shop as he passed, but the front was dark except for a dim night light. "I don't see anyone downstairs," he mumbled into the mic after he'd passed. "Everything else is closed up and quiet, too." He strolled to the demolished lot and leaned back on the fence, pulling his hood down. Just a neighborhood punk hanging out and chilling. Nothing to see here. He waited for the others to get into position, nodding his head and wagging his elbows as he pretended to listen to an imaginary iPod.

"I see three men downstairs in the back. It looks like a kitchen." That would be Oliver. The voice changers the archers used made them sound the same. Diggle was going to have to get them to identify themselves when they reported in.

"The curtains are drawn upstairs at the front." That would be Merlyn. "I can only make out two shadows."

"Do you see the girl?"

"One is big and the other is small, but not small enough to be a child."

"Green, are we sure this is the right place?"

"Unless these guys like Froot Loops. She could be in bed here at the back." There was a pause as Oliver changed position. "We don't want a firefight. Quick and clean."

Diggle licked his lips and straightened, ready to move. He wasn't entirely sure if Oliver had said that last, or Merlyn. He shook it off; they had a job to do.

"Base, you ready to roll?"

"Hang on, I see a problem." As Diggle looked down the street, he saw a flare of match light in a car parked across the street from the barber shop. Some guy- no, there were two, he saw in the ember flare- was sitting in the car and smoking. He reported it on the comm, and they speculated if it could be undercover police officers. "Their car is too flash for the cops." Diggle peered, but tried not to look as if he were looking at them. "They're not watching the building. They're watching the street. They must be lookouts."

"We can't make a move until they're neutralized."

"Lure them out of the car."

Diggle could see where that would lead. But that's why Merlyn was on the roof, right? Gunfire would draw way too much attention. "You mean like with a brilliant diversion?" he asked, wondering if he could come up with one.

"What would Eddie Murphy do in a situation like this?"

"Ugh. My mother would kill me if she saw me acting like that." Diggle frowned. Worst of all, he wasn't sure if that Eddie Murphy comment was Oliver teasing him or Merlyn goading him.

===#===

The roof of the empty building was dark; Malcolm had checked that he would not be backlit as he stood beside the crumbling retaining wall. He leaned out and looked down. He saw the flare and glow of the cigarette in the windshield of the car below, but it was parked too close for him to get a shot in the side window.

He put an arrow to string and held his bow ready to draw. He controlled his breathing, keeping it slow and steady as he waited to make the kill.

A drunken black man staggered down the street. "Hey, man!" he said brightly, and far too loudly. "You got some smokes? Gimme a smoke, man!"

The driver of the car growled something negative, but the drunk persisted.

"Come on, man! Don't be like that. I'm good for it! Hey, why yous sittin' out here inna dark?" He wavered a moment before regaining his balance. "Hey, le's go inside and have us a drink and a smoke!"

"Will you get lost, you dumbass!"

"Ain't no reason to be like that! Why you be like that? I'mma be yo' friend!" The drunk staggered back and half-turned, raising his arms to the neighborhood in general. "We can all be friends. Hey!" he yelled out. "Hey, anybody got some beer? Tha's what we need, some beers and some smokes!"

Malcolm curled his fingertips around the string, putting pressure on it so he could feel it through the glove. Below on the street, the drunk was still making a ruckus. With a curse, the driver got out of the car and moved to get rid of the nuisance. Malcolm said softly, "Get them both out of the car."

Before the driver could throw a punch or shove the drunk, the latter collapsed into his arms. "Son of a-!" He tried to dump the passed-out body, but somehow, the drunken fool clung to him. "Dammit! Help me!"

Malcolm raised the bow and slowly drew back the arrow, focusing on the passenger door of the car.

===#===

Diggle clung to the kidnapper- guy was definitely no cop- trying to keep the guy from reaching his weapons, and hoping he didn't get slugged for his efforts. He threw his weight against the guy and turned him so he could see the second target.

The passenger door of the car opened, and the man started to get out. He ducked to clear the roof of the car, and then just continued straight down. He was dead that fast.

Diggle surged upright, slugging his man in the gut. He cracked an elbow across his skull to drop him.

He heard something behind him and turned. A clean cut young man stood in the doorway of the barber shop, his eyes wide in shock. He was already reaching into his jacket. Diggle went for his own gun, fearing he was too late, but in the next instant, a black arrow sprouted from the man's chest, and he dropped bonelessly to the ground.

Diggle's heart restarted.

Merlyn was already reporting to Oliver. "Two guards down; one man from inside down. No movement from upstairs."

===#===

Oliver had not been idle. He'd gotten the upstairs window jimmied open quietly. "Acknowledged," he said, pressing his earpiece. "Go to open comms. Engage. I'm going in." He slipped inside and crept past the stairwell. He opened a door on his left. It was a tiny bedroom with a dim nightlight on. It was unoccupied. "She's not upstairs in the back room," he reported.

As he turned to continue, one of the kidnappers appeared at the other end of the hall. He was a hefty guy, mostly flab. "Hell!" he yelled as Oliver raised his bow and fired. The guy ducked back, and the arrow just winged him.

Oliver sent another arrow quickly after the first, expecting the goon to reappear with a gun. Guy wasn't stupid, though. He kept himself squeezed behind the doorjamb as he aimed down the hall.

Oliver retreated to the scant safety of the bedroom doorway as shots began taking chunks out of the walls.

===#===

Diggle cleared the empty barber shop and pressed his back to the wall beside the curtained doorway that led to the back. He pushed the drape aside with the barrel of his gun and took a look. The hall led to a back door, with narrow stairs on the right, and an open doorway spilling out light on the left.

He slipped down the hall and edged up to the doorway of what must be the kitchen. He heard the murmur of voices, two men. Where was the girl? Since Oliver hadn't found her upstairs, she might be in there with them. What he needed now was another diversion.

Just then, someone upstairs yelled, "Hell!" And a moment later, shots rang out.

Diggle heard the little girl start to cry and he gritted his teeth, holding position instead of busting in there to save her. The men were wondering what the hell was going on, and one told the other to check it out.

One of them came into a hall, following his gun that he held at arm's length. Diggle clubbed down on his hand, cracking upwards with his other arm to knock the weapon out of the man's grip. He yelped; Diggle pointed his weapon in the guy's face, and the guy raised his hands. "We ain't hurt nobody!"

Diggle shoved him towards the wall. "Turn around." He held the guy pinned beside the doorway, gun at his head, while he looked into the kitchen.

The other guy was there, frozen in the act of coming around the table. He had a gun out as well.

"Drop it!" Diggle yelled, keeping himself shielded by the wall and his prisoner. He pointed his gun into the kitchen.

That man ducked and jerked back. "I have the girl!" He tugged Crystal out of a chair. "You drop it!"

Diggle put his gun to the back of his prisoner's head. "Let her go, or your buddy gets it!"

The other guy clutched Crystal to him, using her as a shield. The girl's eyes and nose were red and puffy; she cried quietly in his grip. "I think you care a hell of a lot more about this kid than I do about him!"

"Hey!" Diggle's man yelped.

Diggle cursed underbreath as the mission went to hell.

===#===

Malcolm couldn't see his targets through the drapes, but Oliver was pinned down. And stealth? It sounded like a wild west movie in there. He sent two arrows at the windows, shattering them.

The small guy started firing towards him. Malcolm began to duck, but then realized the man was aiming at the windows below him, assuming the shots had come from there.

Calmly, the Dark Archer fitted an arrow to string and shot the gunman in the junction of shoulder and neck, followed quickly by a shot to the chest as he fell, arms flying wide.

He quickly took aim at the big man shooting at Oliver, but held his fire.

===#===

When the glass shattered behind the gunmen, Oliver took the opportunity to charge down the hall and grapple with his target. He was used to fighting men who were physically fit and trained to take a hit and keep on fighting. This was a new experience for him, as his punches seemed to be absorbed by layers of fat, producing no results whatsoever. He ducked a meaty fist. The guy wasn't very quick, but with that mountain of weight behind his blows, one hit would be all he'd need. It was daunting, but Oliver trusted his skill would win out in the end.

The guy lunged and slammed him into a suffocating bearhug.

===#===

"Don't mess with me! You cops are screwed if little missy gets so much as a scratch!"

Diggle raised his gun in surrender, but he kept his other hand on his prisoner's back. "Look, we're not the cops. Just leave the girl, and you can rabbit out the back."

"What kind of crap is that?" His gun wavered. He didn't seem to know whether to keep the gun on the girl or try to shoot Diggle.

Just then, a huge body crashed down the stairs and landed in a groaning heap in the corner. The Starling City Vigilante leapt down on him like a panther. With a wet crunch of bone and cartilage, he wrenched the kidnapper's neck, and the big man went limp.

In the blink of an eye, the Vigilante had an arrow drawn and pointed at the man in the kitchen.

"You know who I am," Oliver said loudly. "I am not the police, and I don't care if you go to jail. Release the girl and walk out that door." No one dared take a breath. The arrow didn't waver. "Or we can fight this out. I am not a cop. I can kill you, and I will."

"Okay, okay! Look, here I come; don't shoot!" The man raised his gun in surrender, but kept Crystal clutched to him. He scooted with her towards the doorway. "Let my buddy go. To the door."

Diggle shot a glance over his shoulder. Oliver gave the barest nod. Diggle turned his prisoner towards the back door, stepped back out of reach, and leveled his gun on the man. "Don't try anything."

"N-N-No no! Nothing!" The weasel scurried backwards until he hit the door. He groped for the knob.

The final kidnapper edged into the hall and sidled towards his cohort. The green arrow followed his movement. "How do I know you won't shoot us soon as I let go of the girl?"

"I could shoot you now," Oliver said coldly. "At this distance, I can't miss."

"Ulp," was the only reply the guy could come up with. The keening wail of distant sirens helped him make up his mind. "Get the door," he hissed at his companion. The door opened, the man shoved Crystal forward, and the two kidnappers bolted, slamming the door behind them.

Crying out, Crystal skidded to her hands and knees on the floor. Diggle flicked the safety on his gun, secured it, and hurried to pick her up. "Here, sweetheart; it's okay; you're okay."

She curled against his chest. "Don't feel good," she mumbled. Then a dry cough racked her body.

Diggle rubbed her back. "She's burning up," he told Oliver as he brushed his hand over her forehead. Crystal snuggled deeper into his sweatshirt.

"The police are almost here. Take her out front." Oliver disappeared back up the stairs.

Diggle carried Crystal into the barber shop, careful to keep her turned away from the body in front of the door. He set her in one of the big leather-upholstered chairs, and found a couple of draping sheets to wrap her into. He tugged the top one up and forward, giving her a little hood of her own. The sirens were growing closer by the second, and Diggle's heart thumped. If he were in here when they arrived, there were going to be way too many awkward questions. He turned to pull away, but Crystal clutched at his sleeve.

"I have to go, sweetheart," he said gently. "The police will be here any moment. Just stay put, and they'll take you home, okay?"

Her soulful eyes looked at him a long moment. Then she sniffled and nodded. She withdrew her hand and curled up tighter into the sheets. It tore at his heart to leave her alone, sick and miserable, crying silently, but he had to move, now.

He stopped just inside the door. "Is the front street clear?" There was no answer on the comms. "Black?" He couldn't wait; he'd have to duck out and hope nobody saw him. Or worse, tried to stop him.

===#===

"What about the money?" Riley bitched.

"We got half, we got away, and those psychos-" Glover threw a panicked look back over his shoulder, so he didn't see Riley drop right in front of him. Then pain exploded in his neck.

The next thing he knew, he was on the dirty ground of the alleyway, gasping and choking, and what the hell? He groped for his gun.

===#===

Malcolm cursed silently. He'd meant to take both men out with one clean shot. The second had turned unexpectedly, and the arrow had clipped his windpipe instead of the carotid. At least he couldn't scream, but he was making enough of a racket thrashing around.

Malcolm nocked another arrow before the man could free his gun from its holster. In rapid succession, he planted three arrows in the kidnapper's heart, even before the body finished collapsing.

"Black, where the hell are you? You're supposed to be covering the front." Diggle's voice spoke in his ear.

"Recon," he replied smoothly. "Did you make it to your exits?"

"Just about," Diggle affirmed grudgingly.

"Yes," came the deeper tone of the voice-changer. "Base, stick around, make sure things go smoothly. Black, meet back at the rendezvous."

"Affirmative," he said, and Diggle acknowledged the orders as well. Malcolm stepped forward to retrieve his arrows, but stopped. There was a lot of blood pooling around the bodies, and he didn't want to leave tracks. Those, the police could trace. As for the arrows, they only let to Sagittarius Corporation, which could not be directly linked to him. Gritting his teeth, he backtracked the way he had come and slipped through the police net before it closed.

===#===

Diggle reversed the hoodie; the lining was light grey with a red stripe across the shoulders. He didn't want to appear to be skulking around and trying to hide. He milled about with some other brave (or stupid) gawkers from the street. The police arrived, and soon a young officer was herding them back from the scene, while others cautiously approached the barber shop.

His heart went out again to the little girl, who must be terrified with all those armed men surrounding the building, one on the bullhorn demanding the surrender of anyone still inside. "They all dead, yo!" he called out in his actor's voice, but the police wouldn't rush into a potentially dangerous situation.

A siren yelped behind the crowd, and they parted to let the ambulance through.

===#===

Verdant Basement

Malcolm pulled up to the club's back door a few minutes behind Oliver. He went inside to find the young man with his hood and jacket off, but his face still masked with warpaint. His eyes flashed like steel in contrast. "I know what you did," he growled without preamble.

"You can't possibly think it was wrong." Malcolm pulled his gloves off.

Oliver clenched his hands into gnarled fists. "I said I'd let those two go."

"To ensure the girl's safety. I understand that." He set his gloves on the side table and began working the side fasteners of his leather tunic. "But once she was safe-"

Oliver overrode him "I think you're not quite on board with how my team operates. We do not kill people when it isn't necessary."

"Those men saw you. They saw Diggle. Now maybe they couldn't identify you, but him?" Malcolm met the boy's gaze, because he knew he was right. Oliver glanced aside first.

Then he moved closer, his voice low. "That doesn't explain why snuck around and then lied about what you were doing."

"You were busy engaging those men while they were threatening the girl. I didn't want to distract you with comm chatter," Malcolm answered levelly. "And yes, you're right; I didn't want to get into a huge argument over ethics while out in the field, so I lied." Oliver huffed in ire, clenching his teeth. Malcolm cut him off before he could say anything. "You can't possibly believe anything good could come out of letting them live."

"I told you, I run this operation! You do not slip off and pursue your own vendettas."

"They were criminals, kidnappers of the worst sort- who knows what they were planning to do with that poor little girl?"

"You want me to trust you? You need to prove to me you can be trusted," Oliver snarled.

"Do I need to ask permission for every move I make?" Malcolm snapped back. "Should I have stopped to ask before I took out the sentry? Or stopped that man from shooting Diggle in the back?"

"No." Oliver turned and paced away as if afraid of losing control and lashing out. His movements were stiff with tension; the tendons of his neck stood out.

"I know you don't have any problem with killing criminal scum, so what exactly has you so put out?"

"We didn't find out who arranged this kidnapping."

Malcolm thought this a shoddy excuse. "The police can handle that. If it was an amateur job like your informant suggested, there should be plenty of clues." He shrugged off his tunic.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Diggle. "Crystal is safe and sound and on her way home to her parents." He stopped short, noting the tension between the two men. "Did I miss something?"

"Merlyn killed those two guys in the alley," Oliver said.

Malcolm shot a glance at Diggle. There was a flash of expression on his face; he opened his mouth to say something, then just as quickly changed his mind. But he'd been about to agree that it was the best course of action, Malcolm was sure of it.

Oliver sensed the brief pause and turned his glare on his partner. "You agree with his actions." It was barely a question.

"They did see us," Diggle said pragmatically. "If the cops picked them up, they'd be falling all over themselves trying to make a deal to turn over the Hood." Wisely, Diggle stopped there, because Oliver looked as if he were chewing leather.

"Let me make this clear," he bit out. "The difference between a vigilante and a murderer is, the vigilante is about justice and reform, and giving people a second chance." He glared at Malcolm. "And you, you follow my lead, not your own agenda. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm replied, not because he was cowed, but because it was what Oliver wanted to hear. The boy wasn't interested in logic, so arguing with him was useless. Malcolm gathered his gear. "If we're done here?"

Oliver nodded and waved him off. Malcolm returned to his own lair.

===#===

"What was that all about?" Diggle asked after Merlyn had gone.

Oliver unclenched his fists, slowly and with effort. "He lied about what he was doing- you heard him."

"Did he say why?"

"He said he didn't want an argument." Oliver paced, radiating agitation. "He expects us to trust him, then he pulls this bullshit!"

"Well, I never agreed to trust him. but he did do a damned good job tonight." Oliver shot a glare over his shoulder. Diggle put his hands up defensively. "He did save my ass, I have to give him that. And frankly, Oliver, cleaning up those two in the alley... It was the smartest move."

"You had no intention of letting them go?" He grabbed his escrima sticks and moved over to the training posts. Clearly, he needed to work off some energy.

Diggle raised his voice over the clamor of the rapid strikes. "I meant when I said the girl was more important than catching them. And I would have let them get away, if it meant saving her." In fact, that's what he'd done. "But frankly? It's better this way."

Oliver clobbered the head of the hapless post with both clubs at once. Then he turned, panting, to Diggle. "Oh, so great, now you're on his side?"

"No. I agree with you. We can't trust him- I said that from the get-go. We need to keep a close eye and a tight leash on this guy." He pursed his lips. "But Oliver, it's like holding a tiger by the tail."

"Once we get Felicity back, we won't need him. I hope."

Diggle chewed his lip. "I don't know, Oliver. If we want to find the Markov Device... well, you know what they say about keeping your enemies close."

Oliver let out a long, deep sigh of frustration. He turned back to the training posts. "You should go out, celebrate a job well done down at your favorite burger joint."

"You should come with me."

Oliver cocked a glance at him between strokes. "I think Carly would prefer if I didn't always tag along with you."

Diggle grimaced. "Come on, Oliver. Carly and I burned that bridge already." The attraction was there. He loved Carly and his nephew deeply. But the spectre of his brother would always stand in their way.

"Maybe it's time to build a new bridge."

"I don't think so," he deflected. "What about you and Laurel?"

Oliver missed a beat, then pulled back, letting his arms drop. "That's... complicated. I thought by now I'd be done with all this skulking and lying. But it's just gotten worse. And if I screw up with her again, we'll be through." He frowned.

"Maybe it's time you confided in her," Diggle began.

"No!" Oliver's eyes widened. "No, I can't."

"She's all about justice, isn't she? She would understand."

"No! All she would hear is that I'm a killer. I couldn't bear to see that look in her eyes, Diggs. The way Tommy looks at me. And my mother..." He shook his head, turned away.

Diggle hadn't meant to put his mood in a bad place. "All right, all right. It'll be fine; you've made it this far. Now how bout a Belly Buster Biggy Burger and double order of fries?"

Oliver took a breath and nodded. He made an effort to smile. It was clear that it was an effort, but at least the thought was there. "All right." He turned to finish changing his clothes.

"Oh, and Oliver?" He waited until the young vigilante turned back. "Make sue you wash your face before you go out."

He tried not to laugh as Oliver startled and reflexively touched the facepaint.

"I swear, one of these days you're going to walk into the club with that on and wonder why everybody is staring at you."

Oliver made a disparaging noise and waved that off. "I'll just break down and confess to my secret life as a transvestite," he called over his shoulder. At least this time his smile came more easily.

===X===

Outtake: The Three-Man Band

Diggle: Look... ::points to Oliver, Malcolm, and himself:: Lead, Guitar, Bass. ::mimes an air guitar.

Oliver: And what is Felicity, when she gets back? Drums?

Diggle: Nah, man- Keyboard!

Oliver & Malcom: ::both groan, but then suddenly quit and glare at each other in animosity, affronted to have agreed on something::