Chapter 26: Loose Ends

Roy tailed the SUV for about twenty minutes. Eventually it arrived at its destination, turning off the road and through an archway bordered to either side by immaculately tended hedges. Roy brought the ducati to a halt a little further on, before dismounting and making his way back to the entrance on foot. The sun had set, and the road was deserted. Approaching, he could just about make out the wording on the sign that stood to one side of the arch:

GREENWOOD CREMATORIUM

Cautiously, he peered around the corner of one of the stone pillars that marked the entrance. A driveway stretched away in front of him, lined to either side with trees. At the end he could make out a dimly lit building, its features ghostly white against the blackness of the night. The SUV had parked up outside. As he watched, he saw the front doors open. Two men got out. As they did so, two other men emerged from the building. One of them he recognised – it was Father West, the priest who'd officiated at Oliver's wedding. Another man then emerged from the SUV. He shook hands with West as the other men dragged Oliver from the vehicle. Roy could see him struggling against his captors, resistance which only earned him a punch to the stomach. Subdued, he was then dragged inside, followed by West and the other man.

Roy waited. Eventually, convinced that the coast was clear, he silently made his way up the drive, taking care to hug the trees so as not to be seen. Arriving at the building, he saw that the door had been left ajar. Ignoring the alarm bells ringing inside his head, he slowly pushed it open and stepped inside.

He found himself in an entrance hall. Displays of flowers stood to either side, flanking a strip of carpet that led from the entrance to a set of double doors a few feet ahead of him. Again, the door was ajar, and he could hear voices coming from the room beyond. Hoping to find a way to rescue his friend, he tip-toed forwards…..

"That's far enough, kid."

Roy felt the muzzle of a gun pressing against the back of his head. His reaction was immediate and instinctive. Instead of raising his hands to surrender he swung round, ducking as he did so. He then threw himself at the man, driving him into the wall with such force that the gun fell from his hand. The two grappled with each other. The guard was a big man, but what Roy lacked in size and weight he made up for in speed and agility. The guard threw a punch, but Roy easily sidestepped it; he then drove his fist hard into the man's groin. The guard yelped in pain, staggering back and sending a vase of flowers crashing to the floor. Recovering quickly, now it was his turn to tackle Roy. Roaring with anger, he grabbed Roy around the waist, the two of them tumbling forwards and through the double doors that led to the room beyond. Both men crashed to the floor, but it was Roy who recovered first. Spotting an ornamental door stop, he grabbed it and brought it down hard on the guard's head. Made of brass and weighing six pounds, the man didn't stand a chance; he collapsed lifeless to the floor, a pool of blood forming rapidly next to the gaping wound in the side of his head.

"Bravo, Mr Harper, bravo! It looks like there's at least one hero worthy of the name in the Justice League after all."

Roy turned. Flanked by Father West and two more guards, Desaad stood watching him from the far end of the room. On his knees in front of him was Oliver, a gun pressed against the back of his head.

Adrenalin pumping, Roy leapt to his feet and advanced towards Desaad. His blood was up, so much so that he ignored the two guards as they aimed their guns at his head. West took a step back, but Desaad merely smiled; he knew he held all the cards, and that the angry young man in front of him would soon be brought to heel.

"That's far enough, Roy – unless you want to see Oliver's brains splattered all over these beautiful chairs," he said, pressing the gun a bit harder into the back of Oliver's skull. Roy stopped. He looked at Oliver, the two exchanging glances. A strip of silver duct tape had been plastered over his friend's mouth, but his eyes – his eyes spoke volumes. Roy could see fear there, fear and desperation; it was as if they were pleading with him, pleading for him to get out while he still had the chance…..

Reluctantly, Roy realised he had no choice – he had to surrender. Slowly, he began to raise his hands.

"There's a good boy," said Desaad. "You're brave, Roy, but you're not stupid – Oliver here has trained you well. Stevens, tie his hands – I don't want our young hero to get any more ideas."

One of the guards stepped forward. He gestured for Roy to hold out his hands, before binding them together with some twine.

It was only now that Roy started to take in his surroundings. They were in a large room with rows of red, velvet upholstered chairs lined up to either side of a central aisle. At the far end, just behind where Desaad and the others were standing, was a raised platform which led to a small door, about three feet by three feet square. Red curtains hung to either side of it, and everywhere there were more elaborate displays of flowers, some in vases, some mounted on pedestals. One thing more than any other caught Roy's eye – a coffin, standing on some oak trestles to the side of the platform.

"You know, you turning up here is a stroke of luck," said Desaad, watching as the guard guided Roy towards him. "We're just tying up loose ends, you see – and it wouldn't be right to leave one member of the Justice League alive, even if you are still only the new boy."

"What is this? What do you want?" demanded Roy firmly; if he was afraid he wasn't showing it.

"How to end it – it's been troubling me for months," continued Desaad, as if thinking aloud. "I always knew how I was going to break Oliver here, but how to kill him – that was more difficult. I came up with dozens of ideas, but none of them….. none of them seemed right, you know? I wanted something spectacular, you see – something special. And then Father West came up with this, and suddenly everything became clear. The Green Arrow, burnt alive – a fitting end for our fallen hero, don't you think?"

Roy's eyes widened in horror. "You're insane – you'll never get away with this," he stammered, momentarily taken aback; he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, but the look in Desaad's eyes told him that this was no twisted joke.

"Oh, I'm quite sane, isn't that right, Oliver?" he said, nudging the side of Oliver's face with the barrel of his gun. "And I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. You being here – well, it's just the icing on the cake."

Stepping across to a panel mounted on the wall, he punched a code into a keypad. The small door slowly swung open. Behind it there was what looked like a sheet of stainless steel, its edges ominously singed black.

"Shall we see if the oven's ready?" he asked gleefully, turning to look at his captives. Aghast, they watched as the metal plate slid sideways, to reveal what could only be described as an inferno which lay beyond. Flames licked alarmingly upwards, filling the space as they reached high into the air. The heat was intense. Roy was standing some distance away, but he could still feel the warmth tingling on his face. Accompanying it all was a low roar, the baleful sound seeming to presage the horror that was to come…..

"Too much?" asked Desaad innocently, enjoying the looks of sheer terror on Oliver's and Roy's faces. "Yes, I agree – fortunately this machine has got a very effective temperature control."

He punched a second code into the keypad. Immediately the flames died back, so that they were just a quarter of their original height.

"The problem with cremation is that it's so quick," he continued, his tone chillingly business-like. "A few seconds, and you're dead – that is if you're not dead already, of course! We don't want to rush things, and this machine will allow us to take our time – savour our last moments together, if you will. Father West tells me that when it's set to its lowest setting it could take someone up to twenty minutes to die in there. Just think – and all that time we'll be able to hear your screams, your last pathetic cries for help…."

"You're psychotic," said Roy, stunned by what he'd heard. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Does it matter? What matters is that Oliver dies – in the most painful way imaginable," continued Desaad. "And that's what makes your presence here especially fortuitous. You see, I'm still a little uncertain about the optimum temperature – your death will allow me to adjust the settings so that they're just right for the main event." He looked at his men. "Take him."

The two guards grabbed Roy and began to drag him towards the coffin. Roy struggled, but the men were too strong for him. Realising what was happening, Oliver leapt to his feet. He knew he didn't stand a chance; his hands were tied behind his back, and he was both outnumbered and outgunned. None of that mattered. He'd watched Victor being murdered, seen Clark beaten and tortured – he couldn't just stand on the sidelines and let another of his friends die.

Knocking West to one side, he threw himself at Desaad. The outcome was all too predictable. Neatly sidestepping Oliver's attack, Desaad brought the butt of his gun down hard on the back of his neck. Oliver stumbled, before falling awkwardly to the floor. He didn't have time to recover before Desaad grabbed him and hauled him to his feet, once more pressing the gun firmly into the side of his head.

"Relax, Oliver – don't excite yourself," he purred. "You know you can't save him, so let's allow the men to do their work, shall we?"

All the while Roy had been fighting an increasingly desperate battle with the two guards. Both were considerably larger than him, and without the use of his hands he was at a serious disadvantage. Three or four punches to the stomach followed by a blow to the head and it was all over. Dazed and disorientated, he offered no resistance as they lifted him up and placed him inside the coffin. Leather straps were then attached to his ankles, before belts were stretched across his torso and neck. Panicking, he began to struggle once more, but it was too late – anchored securely in place, he was trapped.

Desaad pushed Oliver forwards towards the coffin. "Time to say goodbye, Oliver," he said. "Or perhaps it should be another apology? After all, this is another member of your team you've been unable to save."

Grabbing Oliver by the neck, he pushed him over the coffin. Oliver resisted, grunting into his gag as he tried to wriggle free of his captor's grip. Roy stared up at him. Oliver could see the fear in his eyes, the realisation that this was really happening and that the horrific fate Desaad had planned for him might be just moments away. He wanted to cry out to him, to reassure him that it would be alright, that somehow he'd find a way to save him. He could say nothing, of course – the tape over his mouth saw to that. He could only stare back at his young friend and will him to stay strong…

"What, nothing to say?" asked Desaad glibly. "No inspiring last words? He is your protégé, remember – surely you can think of something?"

"MMMMMPPPPHHHH!" roared Oliver, his eyes filled with rage; not for the first time he wanted nothing more than to tear his captor limb from limb.

"What was that? I'm sorry, Oliver, but we can't hear you – perhaps this will help."

Desaad pulled the tape from Oliver's mouth.

"You sick fuck - I'll kill you for this," said Oliver breathlessly. "I swear, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"Is that it? Is that all you've got to offer – a string of obscenities and another of your meaningless threats?" replied Desaad, amused by his captive's outburst. "Well, if you've nothing more to say….."

Abruptly, he yanked Oliver up from the coffin. Spinning him round, he then threw him against a wall, before grabbing him by the neck and pinioning him to its surface. He then looked over to the two guards, who stood waiting patiently close by.

"Seal it."

"No, please – don't do this," pleaded Oliver, watching as the men lowered the lid onto the coffin and began to screw it down. The anger of moments earlier was gone; he knew he was running out of time, and he had to try something, however hopeless it might be.

"Please – I'm begging you," he continued. The men were lifting the coffin onto the platform now – a fee more seconds, and it would all be over…..

"Save your breath, Oliver," said Desaad, a twisted smile forming on his lips; he had one more surprise up his sleeve, one he'd been looking forward to for some time. "Father West, hand me that iron."

West pulled an iron from the furnace and handed it to Desaad. Still grasping Oliver firmly around the neck with his right hand, he held the iron in front of his captive's face, enjoying the flicker of fear he saw in the other man's eyes as it glowed red hot just inches from his cheek.

"Harper will burn – there's nothing you can do to stop it," he began, his words as measured as they were menacing. "You're going to hear him scream – screams that will make you wish you'd never been born. But I want you to know what it feels like, Oliver – I want you to know what he's going through. Think of this, then, as a way for you to share his pain – as well as a taste of things to come."

"No – plea…AAARRRGGGGHHHHH!"

Oliver screamed as Desaad pressed the iron into the side of his neck. There was only the lightest of contacts, but still the pain was excruciating. The iron burned deep into his skin, melting the flesh away. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Desaad removed the iron and released his grip, allowing Oliver to slump to the floor, barely conscious.

"Did you enjoy that, Oliver?" asked Desaad, rolling Oliver onto his back with his boot. "No? Well I certainly did. Now if you'll excuse me, I've some business to attend to."

He dropped the iron. It clattered to the floor, coming to rest a foot or so from where Oliver lay. Desaad clapped his hands, excited at the prospect of what was to come.

"Start the motor, gentlemen," he declared, as if making some sort of grand announcement. "If I'm not mistaken, it's time we slow roasted a sidekick!"

Will Roy survive? You'll have to wait and see...

Hope you enjoyed this one - I'm sorry it's been a while coming. Thanks as always to my amazing reviewers, whose support I so much appreciate - please do let me know what you think of this one, as it's always great to get feedback!