Chapter Twenty Nine: To Die a Hero
Oliver felt nothing as he fell heavily to the floor, his bound hands powerless to break his fall. In fact he had felt nothing, seen nothing, since he had been dragged from that room some minutes before, the last fleeting images of AC's lifeless corpse and Chloe's tear stained face disappearing as he was hauled back down those endless corridors to his place of captivity. He felt numb, his brain shutting down under the impact of the terrible trauma he had been forced to endure. He had no awareness of his surroundings, no recollection of Lex gloating over him, exultant in his victory. All he could see was a single image, burned onto his memory like a brand of Cain and filling his head with a nightmarish intensity that seemed to grow stronger with every passing minute.
Those eyes! Those wide, staring, empty eyes!
The vision of AC's lifeless stare, a stare Lex had consciously seared into the young hero's memory, was all that Oliver could think about. AC was dead! It seemed so unreal, so impossible. But there was no denying what they had all witnessed. Arthur Curry, a man so full of vitality, had had his life brutally snuffed out in an act of such pure evil no writer of horror fiction could ever have imagined it. And Oliver had been powerless to stop it; indeed, he had been forced to collude in his friend's murder, to choose the life of Chloe over the life of one of his team. How could he ever recover from this moment? How could he ever move on? Those final seconds of AC's life, writhing obscenely on the ground as poison spread with terrifying speed through his powerful frame, were seconds that Oliver knew he was destined to replay over and over in his mind until the day he died. It didn't matter that he had had no choice but to condemn his friend to death, that AC, as ever so selfless and brave, had absolved him from blame with that tiny gesture of understanding. None of that mattered – what mattered was that in Oliver's heart he had condemned himself. He had built the Justice League, he had involved them in his quest to destroy Lex, he had failed to protect them. For Oliver, choosing AC to die was not the beginning and end of his guilt; it was a manifestation of a deeper failure, a failure that had already cost one life, and would probably cost many more.
"That was some show Lex put on back there, eh Queen?" Carter's voice sounded somewhere above Oliver, but it barely registered with him; neither did he feel the halter being removed from his neck, or his wrists being unshackled.
"There now, that should make you feel a little more comfortable," continued Carter, towering over Oliver's apparently lifeless body. "Lex wants you to get a good night's sleep, so we can do it all again tomorrow. Ain't that something to look forward to? Wonder who you'll choose this time – the kid or your bitch? No contest, I guess – still, no one will miss that piece of street shit. Anyhow, sleep well, leather boy – who knows, maybe you'll dream of Aquaman, and all those times you two heroes used to snuggle up real close in that secret base of yours."
Laughing callously at his own joke, Carter turned and walked from the cage, locking the gate securely behind him. His footsteps echoed around the chamber, gradually becoming more distant until at last they disappeared. There was the sound of another door closing, and then silence.
At last Oliver was alone. Perhaps it was the silence, but at that moment something within him gave way. The crushing of his hopes of rescue, seeing his friends in captivity, Chloe's tears of desperation, above all the death of AC – suddenly it was all just too much to bear. A tear ran down his cheek, to be quickly followed by another, and another, until he was crying uncontrollably. He had not wept so freely since he had been told of the death of his parents, all those years ago, but now he sobbed with an intensity of sorrow that seemed to even eclipse that childhood memory. Lex had won, and there seemed to be no way out; his wealth, his strength, his courage, all appeared useless against a foe who had invested so much in his destruction. What use was his training now? His secret identity? It all felt so pointless, so futile. He had failed to save his friend, and soon they would all be dead; he, the supposedly invulnerable hero, had failed them all. He felt like a fraud, a fake, a man who had dreamed of being a hero, but who when the crisis came could not deliver when it mattered most. Tears of grief and desperation turned into tears of anger and contempt, contempt for his own weakness, for the leather suit that he wore, but did not truly fill. Lex was right – he was nothing more than a superficial playboy, pretending to be something he never was, never could be. He hated himself, hated what he had become....
Suddenly, from the depths of his despair, a new emotion took hold of him, powerful and compelling: resolution. All might be lost, and they might all be facing death, but he still had one card to play, one choice that Lex had been unable to wrest from him. AC had died a hero, sacrificing his life for another – why could he not do the same? He didn't have to play Lex's games, with their endings preordained according to his enemy's twisted imagination. He could fight back, resist; even if it meant death, it would be death with honour. Chloe's face flashed into his mind, her tear-stained features looking so vulnerable, so fragile. He had to fight, for her, for all of them; whatever the consequences, whatever his past failings, he now knew what he had to do.
At last the tears that had so freely flowed began to cease, as his mind was filled with an implacable determination to turn his sense of resolution into action. Mentally he felt rejuvenated, his resolve more powerful than any drug, and his thoughts turned to how he might fight back against his captors.
The Green Arrow would not die a captive; the Green Arrow would die a hero.
The sound of a man sobbing – surprising, shocking, unnerving – filled the otherwise silent control room. For the woman who sat listening intently, it was a fascinating sound; the sound of victory, of a hero finally destroyed. Akunin had heard men weep before, as they had cried out for mercy and an end to the torture that she was inflicting upon them. But to hear such a sound come from the once mighty Oliver Queen....well, it was a sound so sweet to her ears she could barely contain herself. She stared, transfixed, at the monitor which showed Oliver lying on the floor of the cage, his body occasionally vibrating as his sobs echoed through his muscular frame. It was a terrible sight, to see a man so utterly broken, but to Akunin the images she now gazed upon gave her a rush of exceptional intensity. She had never been fully convinced by Lex's love of the theatrical; the stage management often seemed too elaborate, too susceptible to the unexpected. But this time...well, this time she had to admit that Lex had masterminded the choreography of AC's death with exquisite precision. Oliver's helplessness had been a joy to watch, the anguish etched on that once so self-assured face as his friend met his end a memory that she would relive a thousand times in the weeks and months to come. Lex was a master, of that there could be no doubt, but the terror she had just witnessed had left her hungry for more, hungry for own taste of Oliver Queen's destruction....
She glanced across at another monitor, where Chloe could be seen, slumped forward on a chair. A smile formed on her lips as a plan took shape in her mind, a plan to rival Lex's in the purity of its evil. Oliver's love for Chloe was clear; he had sacrificed one friend to keep her alive, and would undoubtedly sacrifice more in the coming days. But what if she could destroy that love? Chloe had already seen the film of Akunin and Oliver together, but that had not been enough to shake the young woman's devotion to her lover. What if she went one further? What if the next time she and Oliver made love, they were to have an audience? What if Chloe Sullivan was forced to watch her hero in the arms of another?
Akunin looked back to the screen showing Oliver's prostrate form, the sound of his weeping still filling the room.
Don't worry, Oliver, I'm coming. Soon we'll be together once more, and as we make love, so the love you share with Chloe Sullivan will finally be broken.
I know what you're thinking - too short! Please don't be too angry - life for me is mad at the moment, and when I'm not working I feel exhausted. Not the best conditions for writing, but I promised an update, and I didn't want to let you down.
I hope you liked it - please do let me know what you think be writing a review. Every one means a lot to me, even if it's just a line or so. Next update will probably be in about 9-10 days time - things are going to stay mad for me for a few weeks yet, but then I should have a lot more time to finish the story in the way that both you and me would want.
