Chapter 36: A Hero's Death
"NNOOOOO!"
Bart's gut-wrenching scream tore through the air, drowning out the sickening sound of the rope as it twisted obscenely in the stillness. All eyes were on the scaffold. No one present had ever seen a man hanged before. Some were fascinated, a few repelled – but only two of those watching experienced the emotions of a man forced to watch a friend die. Anger and rage, despair and desolation – these and a hundred other feelings swirled around in their heads. Bart struggled ferociously against his captors, lashing out in all directions like a man possessed; driven mad with grief, he was desperate to get free, to run to AC and cut him down before it was too late. Oliver, however, didn't move. Like a statue, he appeared rooted to the floor, his gaze fixed firmly on the horror that was unfolding in front of him. It wasn't only because Chloe continued to hold a gun to his head; his heart broken, he already knew it was too late. Tears rolled down his cheeks; AC was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Like his men, Lex watched transfixed as AC's body twitched grotesquely on the end of the rope. He'd seen men die before, but not like this; there was a rawness to it, an intensity, that was truly shocking. Lex could see AC's eyes bulging in their sockets, his face turning blue as he lost his fight for air. Most would have been sickened by such a sight, but not Lex; high on adrenalin, he felt thrilled by it, even elated.
"Are you watching this, Oliver?" he declared loudly, his eyes flashing with excitement as he stared up at AC's stricken form. "Are you watching this freak die?"
Suddenly there was a blinding flash. All eyes turned upwards, just as a sheet of flame appeared to engulf the roof above them. Materials of every shape and size began to rain down, from the twisted remains of steel girders to lumps of stone and masonry. Panicking, Lex's men began to run for cover. For two of them it was already too late, a huge section of wall crushing them where they stood. There were more explosions, each louder than the last. The entire roof began to give way, and screams mixed with the sound of falling debris as men tried to escape the unfolding disaster. Lex himself stood rooted to the spot. He seemed detached from the chaos all around him, his eyes burning with barely concealed rage. He turned towards Oliver, now lying on the ground some distance away. He could just make him out through the clouds of smoke and dust, pulling against his bonds as Chloe lay motionless beside him.
"Mr Luthor, we need to get you out of here."
Lex turned, to find one of his men standing beside him. He stared at him for a moment, not seeming to register what the man had said.
"Sir, the roof – the whole thing could go any second!"
"Queen – we must get Queen!" shouted Lex, pointing to where Oliver lay.
The man looked dubiously in the direction that Lex was indicating. Oliver was some distance away, and with every second that passed more and more chunks of stone and brickwork were falling from the roof. Fires were taking hold all around, and the acrid, poisonous smoke that was fast filling the arena was beginning to make it difficult to breathe. Lex might have been his boss, but his instinct for survival was stronger than his willingness to obey orders.
"There's no time – sir, we must get out here!"
Lex was not prepared to take no for an answer. Too many times he'd come close to victory, only for it to be snatched away at the last minute. He was determined that this time would be different. He didn't care about his own safety, still less the safety of the man who stood next to him. All that mattered was Oliver. He would not let him slip from his grasp again – not now, not when he was so close. He would take him alive, or he would see him dead – whatever the cost to himself and anyone else who crossed his path.
"I'm not leaving without Queen!" he shouted furiously, staring wildly at the guard. He grabbed the man's gun from its holster, brandishing it in his direction. "Now you're going to help me, or you die now – understand?"
"Yes, sir!" replied the guard, his eyes widening at the sight of the gun. He didn't doubt for a second that Lex was prepared to make good on his threat; taking his chances with the building that was collapsing all around him suddenly seemed preferable to the bullet that Lex would undoubtedly put in his head if he failed to cooperate.
"Move!"
Together the two men began to make their way towards where Oliver lay. It wasn't easy; the smoke and dust made it difficult to see where they were going, and the debris that scattered their path made rapid progress impossible. However, as they neared their target Lex could see that Oliver had worked his hands free; he appeared to be cradling Chloe in his arms, shielding her from the flames and the falling masonry as best he could.
Seeing that Oliver's hands were free enraged Lex. It seemed to confirm his worst fears, that once again he was to be cheated of the victory that had become his obsession ever since he'd learnt the true identity of the hooded vigilante all those months before. He raised his gun to fire, too late sensing the shower of bricks that were falling directly above him…
The man beside him shouted a warning, but Lex didn't hear. He aimed the gun, and then everything went black.
Roy ran down the passage in the direction of the arena. Ahead of him, framed in the archway that marked the end of the corridor, he could see fires burning out of control. As he got closer he could make out people shouting, their voices mixing with the sound of masonry crashing to the ground and occasional explosions. The place was in chaos. He'd already passed three of Luthor's men running in the opposite direction; such was their desire to escape they hadn't even given him a second glance. He didn't have time to reflect on the fact that he was the cause of all this destruction, that just a minute or so earlier he'd set off the charges that Bart had hidden high in the roof of the arena. He'd arrived too late to warn his friend of Chloe's escape, but watching the teenager being marched away as a prisoner he'd known immediately what he had to do. He'd not had a great deal of explosives training, but it was enough; the result was the carnage that he was now about to enter.
Arriving at the entrance to the arena, Roy stopped and tried to get his bearings. He'd had no choice but to trigger the explosives, but as he surveyed the scene of destruction that confronted him he was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. The bombs had been intended to give the guys a chance to escape, but what if they'd failed? What if Oliver and the others were already dead, victims of the very thing that was meant to give them freedom? Knowing that he couldn't allow himself the luxury of such doubts, he dismissed them from his mind. He needed to focus, to find his friends while there was still time. Fires were burning all around him. Miraculously, to his right the automatic sprinkler system was still working, spraying water in a futile attempt to douse the flames. Steam mixed with smoke and dust, the particles getting stuck in his throat and making him cough. Covering his mouth in an attempt to protect himself from the fumes, he plunged forwards into the arena. He'd caught a glimpse of Oliver from a tiny observation window just prior to the charges going off, but that had been from about three floors up. Everything appeared very different now that he was down at ground level, and to make matters worse he had no idea of how the passageway he'd just emerged from related to what he'd observed a couple of minutes earlier. He wasn't quite going in blind, but it was close; the truth was he had very little idea of where his friends were, and that he would need a massive stroke of luck if he was to find them.
The floor of the arena was covered with the remains of the roof. Debris of all shapes and sizes littered his path, and this, combined with the smoke and dust, made progress difficult. He soon came across his first body, a LuthorCorp guard crushed beneath a fallen girder. The man's eyes were still wide open, staring blankly into the air in the direction of the lump of metal that had killed him. Roy turned away quickly, all too aware that such a fate might also have befallen Oliver and the others. Stumbling onwards, after a couple more minutes of fruitless searching he was becoming increasingly desperate. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack; he needed to change the game, whatever the risks.
"OLIVER!" he shouted, his voice floating out over the vast expanse of the arena. He waited, hoping for a reply. There was none; all he could hear was the sound of the fires burning around him, and the creaking of twisted metal and brick.
"BART!"
He shouted again. He knew he was taking an enormous risk; Lex and his men might still be close by, and his cries might attract their attention. However, he felt he had little choice. Oliver and the others could be injured, and every second spent searching was a second wasted.
"OLIVER!"
For a third time he waited, but again there was no reply. Sighing, he was about to set off once more, when finally he heard a voice.
"Roy, over here!"
Bart!
Roy's heart leapt with joy at the sound of the teenager's voice. He looked all around, his eyes scanning the debris, searching for where his friend was located.
"Where are you?" he shouted. "I can't see you."
"Here – we're over here!"
Roy turned. There, just a dozen or so yards away, was Bart, standing on top of a pile of rubble. Checking that he wasn't being watched, Roy immediately began to make his way over.
"Oliver – where's Oliver?" he asked anxiously as he approached. Bart had used the word "we," but Roy knew that he might still be injured, perhaps seriously.
His friend's smile soon put his mind at rest. "He's fine, dude," he said, glancing down to his right. Roy looked, and saw Oliver kneeling on the ground. In his arms he was cradling Chloe, whose hair was stained with blood.
"Is she…?" he asked.
"She's okay, Roy – she's just been knocked out," said Oliver, looking up at his newest team member. "I guess we have you to thank for the charges going off – good job, kid."
"Yeah, good job," repeated Bart. "You saved our butts – makes you a fully paid up member of the crew, bro."
"And AC – what about AC?" asked Roy, looking around.
"Fish boy didn't make it – just like you won't, fucker."
All three turned, to find Santos standing just a few feet away. Roy guessed that he must have heard him calling Oliver's name; whatever the case, he'd found them. Covered in dust, he was bleeding from a wound to his left shoulder. In his right hand he held a gun, which was pointing straight in their direction.
Bart reached out to his left, as if he was going for a weapon. Santos fired, the bullet shattering the teenager's hand. He screamed in pain, clutching his hand to his chest as blood spurted from the wound.
"Move again and I'll kill you!" hissed Santos, watching with satisfaction as Bart struggled to staunch the bleeding.
"Okay, okay!" said Oliver, trying to diffuse the tension and sensing that the other man was in a highly volatile state. "You got us, yeah? Nobody else needs to get hurt."
"Shut your fucking mouth!" replied Santos, glaring at Oliver. "Now get up, and don't try anything stupid."
Oliver didn't move.
"I said, get the fuck up!"
Reluctantly, Oliver gently lay Chloe on the ground. Slowly he then got to his feet, never once taking his eyes off his captor.
"Did you think you were just gonna walk out of here, Queen?" sneered Santos. "Did you think we were gonna let you and your freaks escape?"
"Look, we're your prisoners," said Oliver, trying to lower the temperature. He could see the other man was on edge, that at that moment he was capable of just about anything…..
"I told you to shut the fuck up!" shouted Santos, brandishing the gun in Oliver's direction. "There's been too much talking. It's time we ended this, and if Lex can't do it, I will."
He aimed the gun directly at Oliver's head, his finger tightening on the trigger…..
Suddenly there was movement away to the right. Santos turned, just in time to see AC emerge from behind a pile of rubble. Stunned by the appearance of a man he thought was dead, he tried to shoot, but it was too late. AC knocked the gun from his hand, before grabbing him and hoisting him high above his head. He then threw him across the arena, his body coming to rest impaled on an upturned girder. Death was instantaneous, the girder penetrating his chest and cutting straight through to his heart.
"I never did like that guy – always kept me hanging around," said AC, grinning as he turned towards his friends. Bloodied and bruised, he looked as if he had been in the fight of his life, a thick red line marking the place where the noose had cut into his neck. He was also soaked to the skin, the young hero having taken advantage of the sprinkler system to restore his strength.
The others were speechless. All but Roy had seen him hanging from a rope, seemingly in his death throes. They'd thought him dead, and yet here he was, very much alive.
"Guys, you look like you've seen a ghost," he quipped.
"We thought….." stammered Oliver, struggling to recover from the shock of his friend's apparently miraculous escape.
"What, you thought I was dead?" said AC, his grin widening. "Bro, you're talking to Aquaman, remember – cheating the grim reaper is what I do."
The two hugged each other; overwhelmed with relief, they both knew they were lucky to be alive.
"Dude, what about me – don't I get to share the love?"
AC turned to Bart, who stood nursing his shattered hand.
"Man, are you okay?" he asked, alarmed by the sight of his friend's blood-stained costume.
"Flesh wound," said Bart casually, making light of what was clearly a pretty serious injury. "Now do I get a hug or what?"
Grinning, the two friends embraced. All of them felt as if their luck had turned, and now all that remained was to make it out of the facility alive. Bizarrely, at that moment that didn't seem as if it would present too much of a challenge; after all they'd been through they felt indestructible, as if they could take on the world and still come out on top.
"We need to get moving," said Oliver, taking charge. He scanned his surroundings, alert to any signs of danger. "Roy, which way?"
"Follow me," replied Roy. "I know a short cut – Emil's waiting for us."
As carefully as he could, Oliver took Chloe in his arms and lifted her from the ground. They then set off across the arena, picking their way through the remains of Lex's theatre of horrors as they made their way towards the exit, and freedom.
Lex himself had just regained consciousness. Dazed, for a few seconds he lay still on the ground, trying to make sense of what was happening. Blood was oozing from a wound to his head, but otherwise he was unharmed. The guard who had accompanied him had not been so lucky. Turning his head, Lex could see him lying just a few feet away, his skull caved in by the shower of bricks that had fallen from the roof. Struggling to his feet, Lex stood for a moment, his head spinning. Fires were burning all around him, and if anything they appeared to be strengthening. Common sense was telling him that it was time to get out of there, but he remained fixated on Oliver, on the need to stop him at all costs. As his head began to clear he scanned his surroundings, trying to locate him. At first he saw nothing, but then some movement away to his left attracted his attention. It was Oliver, moving towards a doorway with Bart and the others.
Lex was suddenly gripped with an almost insane fury. His worst nightmare was coming true, right before his eyes – Oliver was escaping, and he seemed powerless to stop it. He looked about him, searching for something, anything, he could use as a weapon. It was then he saw the guard's gun, lying on the ground just a foot or so away. He grabbed it, before turning and taking aim straight at Oliver's head. He was only twenty or so yards away, certainly close enough for Lex to be confident his shot would find its mark. Miraculously, they still hadn't seen him. Lex didn't hesitate: checking his aim one last time, he squeezed the trigger….
It was then that Bart saw him. There wasn't time to shout a warning, still less to push Oliver clear. Acting on instinct, the teenager threw himself into the path of the bullet. For anyone without Bart's abilities it would have been a futile gesture, the bullet already having left the barrel of the gun before he began to move. But Bart wasn't just anyone; his abilities meant he could save his friend. The bullet tore into his chest, felling him in an instant. The others turned, for a split second not understanding what was happening. Then they saw the blood. They ducked down, their eyes everywhere, searching for the danger. Lex tried to fire again, but the gun had jammed. He caught sight of Oliver, crouching down low as he tried to protect Chloe. The two stared at each other for a few moments, before Lex turned and disappeared into the smoke that was billowing from one of the fires.
Oliver scrambled over to Bart. The teenager was lying flat on his back, his costume soaked with blood. A huge hole marked the spot where the bullet had ripped into his chest. AC and Roy joined him, the three exchanging worried looks. No one spoke, but they were all thinking the same thing:
This is bad – very bad.
"Looks like I saved your ass again, dude," said Bart weakly, trying to force a smile. He wanted to be brave, but his eyes betrayed him. There was fear there, even terror; he knew he was in mortal danger, even though mercifully he could not see the scale of the wound that had torn open his chest.
"Just lie still, Bart," said Oliver, kneeling beside him. "It's going to be fine, yeah? Everything's going to be fine." He pulled away the teenager's tunic, hoping to get a better look at his injury. There was blood everywhere; the bullet had entered his chest close to his heart, and Oliver could see that without immediate medical attention the kid was unlikely to make it. There was no chance of that happening, of course, and as he applied pressure to the wound he was suddenly overcome with an incredible sense of helplessness. Bart was dying – here, right before his eyes – and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Bart stared up at him, the color draining from his features by the second. "It's bad, isn't it?" he asked.
"You're going to be okay, Bart – everything's going to be okay," replied Oliver, gripping the boy's hand tightly. Lying there, Oliver was struck by just how young he looked. The swagger of the old Bart was gone; now there was just a very frightened kid, terrified of the unknown.
"You always were a lousy liar, Oliver," he whispered, wincing as he spoke. His breathing was shallow, his life force ebbing away at an alarming speed. "Looks like I'm checking out, dude – guess I get to die like a hero after all."
Tears began to roll down Oliver's cheeks. "You're not going anywhere, you hear?" he said, his voice choked with emotion. "You're going to be fine – we're gonna get you to a hospital and you're gonna be just fine."
He squeezed Bart's hand even tighter, willing the frightened teenager to hang on a little longer….
"Stay with me, Bart," he said, watching as Bart's eyelids began to flutter. He didn't hear; a second later and his eyes closed for good. His hand went limp in Oliver's grip, his body suddenly lifeless and unmoving.
"Bart? Bart, stay with me, yeah?" said Oliver, looking for a response that didn't come. He shook him, as if trying to wake him from a deep sleep. Again, there was no response. Still Oliver wouldn't accept it. He shouted the boy's name, shook him again and again. Nothing worked. AC and Roy looked on, tears running down their cheeks. They knew what in his heart Oliver also knew:
Bart had gone.
Bart's dead!
I said one of the guys wasn't going to make it - well done to those of you who guessed it would be Bart. He really is dead, too - I'm not planning to bring him back, and his death provides the backdrop to the final showdown between Oliver and Lex. Only a couple more chapters to go, but still plenty of action and drama to come, I promise!
Thanks for being so patient in waiting for updates, and I hope you are enjoying the climax to the story. Please do leave a review if you can - without feedback it can sometimes be really hard to get motivated to write.