A few days later.
Jacob stood back and marveled at all the technological upgrades Felicity had provided for him. Gone was the small laptop he head originally used, in its place sat a full, two screened workstation.
"Not as good as I have in the bunker," he remembered her saying at the time. "But it should do just about everything you need."
A small standing server sat tucked into the corner, powering both the security system she worked up along with the workstation. Gone were the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Several crates of arrow shafts and various arrow heads sat stacked in the corner next to an actual bed, at least as close to one as the space allowed. Somehow, she had managed to get a fully plumbed glass shower also installed.
"Have you smelled yourself lately?" She burst out when he had asked about it. "You smell like sex and death."
In the end, he had let it drop and enjoyed his first hot shower in weeks.
"You're going to need a proper suit," she mentioned when she brought up the glass case, looking at the black burns and bullet hole repair work he had done to his League gear. "I could get Cisco to work something up for you…"
He had turned her down, insisting on figuring it out on his own.
Jacob sat back in the spinning chair she had insisted on him having, flicking through case files relating to anything and everything Los Harcones. Finding a target, he got up, pulling on his league gear before snatching up a bundle of arrows and his bow. Checking that the security system was still active, he set off out the window and headed across the rooftops.
Jacob leaned back, the warehouse lit up in front of him. He peered into the darkness, seeing multiple heavily armed thugs patrolling the rooftop. Can it get any more obvious? He silently laughed, pulling out two arrows and knocking the first. He raised his bow, sighting on the first guard and released. Adjusting slightly, he re-aimed and loosed the second arrow. After a few seconds delay, the two thugs crumpled to the ground, an arrow a piece protruding from their chests. Reaching back and feeling for a thicker arrow he pulled it out, knocked it and checked for an anchor point behind him. Sighting on a solid, high enough point on the upper warehouse, he let loose. A cable sprang from the rear section and embedded itself behind him as the remaining section launched forward and locked itself firm. He reached up with his bow, hooking it on the cable and launched himself forward, gliding across the rooftop to the warehouse. Landing with almost no sound, he detached from the cable and started circling the top of the warehouse, using one arrow per thug as he did. As the last one fell, he snuck close to the vaulted windows, peering inside through the dirty glass panes. The glass was coated with years of dust and grime, almost completely obscuring his vision. Feeling his way around the panels, he found a latch, managing to turn it enough to disengage it. The panel rotated, spinning far enough that he could slip underneath and land on a crossbeam. Jacob silently padded across the beam, moving directly above the hanging light and hiding in the glare. Down bellow, dozens of men and women clad in plastic looking suits with full face respirators filled the room. Some stood in front of tables filled with beakers, Bunsen burners and bricks of cocaine where others stood in front of large silver vats.
He broke from his cover, padding further on the beam, surveying the operation. The closer he moved to the vats, the worse the smell became, until the scent of cat urine permeated his mask. What the hell are they making? He thought to himself, not being able to get close enough to see down into the vats. He slipped away, almost gasping for breath. Several more armed thugs stood in a perimeter around the workers, all wearing respirators as well. He snuck past them, making no sound on the beam as he moved. Outside the perimeter of guards, he came to a small office looking room, two men standing inside, one in a black suit, the other dressed in obvious Los Harcones colors. Jacob edged forward, getting as close above them as he dared.
"The price has doubled," the lead thug grunted, kicking the duffle bag in front of him back towards the suit. "The masked freaks have made manufacturing harder."
"That was not as agreed," the suit argued, shoving back the bag, his shiny black loafers almost squeaking against the bag. "Our arrangement was cemented, and you will honor it."
"I don't think so, cabron" the thug laughed, folding his arms over his chest and trying to look menacing. "Security costs, our supply has become limited, so the price goes up with your demand."
"That is not my problem," the suit pressed, hands sneaking behind his back. "You will continue to supply us at the agreed upon price."
"Then we finna have a problem," the thug grunted, his hand inching towards his waistband.
Jacob grinned, inching away from the tension. Moving back into the main manufacturing room, he looked around to find the best chaos causing plan. The vats were gas fed, cutting the inlet hose would flood the building with propane, lighting from the bunsen burners. What about the workers? He thought, looking at the chains for a central anchoring point. He noticed in the middle of the room, there was a rotating pin where all the chains met. Satisfied that breaking the point would at least leave them mobile, he moved on, counting the perimeter thugs. Eleven, easily enough arrows, he thought to himself, knocking the first one. Moving as fast as he could, he loosed the first arrow, dropping the closest thug and knocking another arrow before the remaining guards had started to react. The second one fell and the rest all turned, shouting in spanish before opening fire. Jacob rolled sideways off the beam, momentarily slamming into a table top before rolling to the floor. Kneeling down and pulling a third arrow, he spun around, catching the nearest thug in the shoulder and sending him falling backwards. The shooting started to turn erratic, glasses shattering as the workers all hit the floor in terror. Jacob rolled out from behind the table, dropping two more thugs in rapid succession before rolling behind another table. Another thug tried to sneak up behind him, the hair on Jacobs neck standing on end. He spun around, catching him around the ankles with the arm of his bow and tripping him. The thug toppled forward, Jacob pulling an arrow from his quiver, stabbing the thug through the back before knocking it and dropping another thug. The gunfire increased, smashing even more beakers, this time several of the contents ignited, splashing fire all around. Jacob jumped back, the inflamed liquid falling right where he had been kneeling a few seconds ago. He reached forwards with the two arrows, coating the tips with the liquid before launching them both at the same time at two incoming guards. The thugs dropped, screaming as the liquid spread to their clothes and slowly engulfed them in flame. Flames rising rapidly around him and remembering the workers still on the floor, he readied another arrow, aiming at the central point carefully before loosing The arrow clanged against the chain, cracking it but not breaking it entirely.
Dammit, he mentally cursed, standing up and running for the hanging point. Jumping up, grabbing a hold of it as tight as he could, he threw his entire body weight down. The link snapped with a metallic clang, sending Jacob crashing to the floor between two tables. He groaned, pain radiating throughout his body before standing up.
"Get the hell out of here!" he yelled at the workers, waving his bow hand.
"Man, fuck this shit," he heard one of the last remaining thugs yell before taking off.
The workers all stood up, clearly confused as they all ran for an exit. Jacob made his way back towards the office where he found both the suit and the lead thug standing at a standoff, weapons pointed at each other. He kicked in the door, loading an arrow at the same time. The suit turned, gun swiveling towards the door. Without hesitation, Jacob loosed his arrow, piercing the man's hand and sending the gun clattering to the floor. The suit screamed out in terror, fleeing the room and clothing, his bleeding hand as the lead thug bent down to grab the cash bag. Jacob reacted faster, shooting an arrow that sank cables into the floor at the bag. The thug looked up to say something as Jacob loaded an explosive arrow and held it up. Looking over his shoulder at the rising blaze, the thug turned tail and ran. Jacob spun around, sighted at the gas inlet and let fly. The arrow broke the tube, exploding too soon and sending a massive concussive wave hurtling straight towards Jacob, sending him flying through the window.
The glass shattered as he smashed through the pane, clattering around him as he hit the ground a few dozen feet outside. He groaned, stunned as he rolled over onto his back. His chest felt tight as he tried to gasp for breath. Footsteps began to approach him as he tried to turn towards the sound.
"You cost me millions," came a heavily accented spanish voice. "You masked fucking freak!"
A foot suddenly slammed down into his ribs as he looked up to see the lead thug from inside standing above him.
"Caraja! All my perico!" he screamed, foot slamming down again and again. ""Vole al carajo! Cabron!"
Jacob coughed, his ribs on fire and on the verge of cracking. Timing the stomps, he rolled to his left, pulling a dart from his side. Rolling back to his right as fast as he could, he flung the dart upwards, catching the thug through the neck.
"Puneta!" he heard him gurgle as the blood flooded his throat, his body sinking to his knees.
Jacob rolled to his feet, groaning and rubbing his chest. A secondary explosion rocked the building, sending shrapnel out in a cloud. Jacob shielded his eyes, watching as bills started raining from the sky, some of them on fire. He grinned, scooping up what bills were still usable before taking off.
Moments after Jacob left, SCPD and the fire brigade began to roll in, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The firefighters began to pour out of the trucks, swarming all over the blaze. The SCPD began roping off the scene as the reporters started trickling in. A completely black unmarked car rolled in parting the swarm of people with the lights in front of the grill. A tall brunette stepped out, a Lieutenant's badge dangling around her neck.
"Get those people back!" she yelled at the closest patrolman.
"Yes, LT Drake!" the patrolman called back, ushering the crowd to move.
She moved closer, watching as her men and the fire crew worked to haul several bodies from the blaze.
"What've we got?" She asked, kneeling down and looking over the corpse.
"My guess is the start of a turf war, Lt," the detective answered, looking through what was left of the corpses pockets.
"That's a Los Harcones tattoo," Lt Drake pointed out, indicating an unburnt patch of skin on the carcass. "Where's Hardy and Abernathy? They're supposed to be covering all things on the Los Harcones file."
"No idea, LT," the detective replied, waving down a CSI photographer. "But we also found these on several of the bodies, and this on the one around the side."
His partner handed the Lieutenant two evidence bags, one holding several whole arrow shafts and the other containing an all black dart.
"Have you logged these yet?" she asked, eyes scanning the shafts.
"Not yet, Lt," the detective replied, still working over the charred corpse.
"I got it then," she said standing up. "Let me know if you find any more."
"You got it, Lt."
She stood up, fishing her cellphone out of her pocket, eyes still staring at the evidence bags. Tapping the screen a few times, she dialed.
"Oliver," she called as he answered. "We need to talk."
She clicked the phone shut, movement catching her attention out of the corner of her eye.
She turned, squinting to see what the movement was. The sigh of a plumed hood, yellow eyes and a green facemask stood out as another burst of flame rocketed out from the building behind her, knocking her off balance.
"Someone get on the radio and get a few more trucks in here!" she yelled, turning back to the scene.
She heard someone yell an acknowledgement before radioing it in. Turning back around, she looked for the figure that caught her attention. Gone was the figure, making her frown and turn, looking in all directions. Her phone rang, the chirping breaking her from her search, turning back towards the blaze and answering it instead.
Jacob silently walked into the clinic, setting his bow down on the table and looked around. Several new pieces of equipment filled the room, along with the cabinet being completely filled.
"Putting the money to good use?" Jacob asked, finding Henry filling a small cabinet drawer with gauze and hypodermics.
"I am.." he started to reply before sniffing the air. "My word, what is that smell? It's like someone set fire to a cat."
"Got blown out a window," Jacob shrugged, his modulated voice falling flat.
Henry started to laugh in that tight British nasally way, removing his glasses and wiping them off with a handkerchief from his pocket. His laugh caused Jacob to laugh at first, before groaning and doubling over.
"I should really examine you," Henry started, standing up and moving closer to him.
"I'm fine, doc," Jacob groaned, turning to walk away.
"Nonsense," Henry pressed, moving to block his way. "You've been shot, and now you've been blown up and out a building. Keep the bloody mask on if you must, but you will let me examine you."
Jacob paused, contemplating moving him if he must.
"Fine," he grunted, undoing the fasteners to his jacket. He let it hang open as he took a few steps backwards and leaned onto a gurney.
"You've been through the bloody ringer," Henry remarked, pulling on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and opening his jacket carefully, examining his chest.
"You don't know the half of it, doc," Jacob groaned, letting him touch the upper half of his ribs gingerly.
"Care to tell me how you acquired these?" He asked, pointing to the slash marks across Jacobs chest.
Silence was his only answer.
"Well aside from being a terrible job at patching your own wounds," Henry went on, taking his gloves off and throwing them into a small waste basket. You seem to be in decent shape. Your ribs are severely bruised, i would recommend some bed rest but frankly i'm sure you wouldn't listen."
"No rest for the wicked," he grunted, securing his jacket back on. "How's the girl?"
"Miss Sin?" he asked, shaking his head and sitting on a stool. "She's healing, helping me out around the clinic and with the patients, it seems to be doing her some good. She insisted on going out for an early supper for us both. Something about getting the best hamburgers in the city."
"Good," Jacob chuckled, turning to leave and setting a phone down on the nearest counter. "The number programmed inside, if you need anything."
"Do I get your name?" Henry asked, picking it up and scrutinizing it.
"Baby steps, doc," Came Jacobs' modulated reply as he walked out.
Henry chuckled to himself, shaking his head before tucking the phone in his lab coat and returning to work.
Jacob climbed through the window of the clocktower, wincing as his bruised ribs scraped on the sill. He stood up, rubbing his chest as he sat down his bow and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ringing in his ears. Pulling off his hood, he blinked, catching a wiff of it. Ah Rao...he thought, that really does stink. He tossed it to the table, shaking his head when he heard the click of a hammer being pulled back.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He asked aloud, snatching up his bow, knocking an arrow and spinning around.
"You're not Sara…" came a female voice.
As he turned the tip of his arrow came up, sighting in for a moment before recognizing the person. Her hair wasn't as spikey as the first time he had seen her; this time, the bandaged hand held what looked to be a short barreled revolver, possibly a .45, pointed directly at his chest.
"No, I am not," he slowly replied, bowstring held firm to his cheek.
"Where is she?" she demanded, the gun starting to shake. "Why are you wearing the same thing she did? She saved me."
Before she could answer, the phone sitting on the table started vibrating and let out a quiet ringing tone, progressively getting louder. Both Jacobs' eyes as well as Sins, flicked to the screen, displaying Henry's name.
"I'm going to answer that," he said slowly, itching over to the table.
Step by step, he moved with her eyes and the barrel of the gun following him; the arrow on his bow never leaving his aim. He tilted the bow, using the tip of the lower arm to press the answer button.
"Hello? Are you there?" came Henry's voice over the speaker.
"I'm here, doc," Jacob answered, eyes still on Sin; more so the revolver still pointing at him and shaking.
"It appears we may have a problem," Henry went on, an audible sigh crackling over the speaker. "The young lady, Sin, seems to have not returned. Now i don't doubt her ability to look after herself but i would hate for her to agitate the breaks on her ribs, should anything unthinkable happen. If you wouldn't mind, could you possibly look around while you're out….doing what it is you do."
"I don't think I'll need to look far, doc," Jacob replied, bow tip tapping the end call button.
"Henry's worried about you," Jacob said, eyes still locked on Sin.
"I'm a big girl," she sighed, rolling her eyes at him.
"Clearly," he smirked, eyes darting towards the barrel of her gun.
She sighed, lowering the gun and easing the hammer back into a neutral position, Jacob following suit with his bow.
"That's better," he laughed, sticking the arrow back into his quiver. "How'd you get in here?"
"This was Sara's place," she answered, waving her hands around. "We were sneaking in and out of here for years."
"Of course," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Is she here?" she asked, walking around.
"Not anymore," he said setting the bow down and continuing to undo the fasteners on his league jacket. "I haven't seen her in weeks."
"Got you beat," she added, stuffing the gun into her pocket. "I haven't seen her in years."
"Yea, i know," he went on, taking the jacket off and hanging it up. "She's talked about you from time to time."
"Holy shit dude," she gasped, seeing all the scars on his upper body. "What the hell happened to you?"
"You knew Sara," he laughed grimly, quickly pulling on his black shirt. "I'm sure you can imagine."
"Who are you?" she asked again. "You talk like you were closer to her. Are you her boyfriend or something?" she added the last part with her nose turning up.
"We were close," he laughed, seeing the look. "Were family complicated but family. I'm Jacob. Lance."
"Lance?" she asked, her one eyebrow rising and Jacob noticing a dark purple spiked ball running through it. " So you're like her….brother?"
"Sure, let's go with that."
"She used to call me her little sister," she muttered, walking around. "Course she completely disappeared and then someone started masquerading as her."
"It was Laurel," he corrected. "She was doing it to honor her sister, and I don't blame her. It's sort of the same thing i'm doing."
"Stalking around the city in one of those ninja mask things?" she asked, pointing to the hood.
"It's not ideal, I'll admit," he sighed, picking it up and staring at it. "But it's gotten the job done this far."
"Dude, that thing is hideous," she grimaced. "And the smell, what is that?"
"Los Harcones had a small fire tonight," he said through a grin. "Got a little out of control, blew me through a window."
"That was you?" she asked, eyes growing wide and eyebrows high.
"I warned them about dealing in the Glades," he nodded. "Now that their production took a hit, maybe they'll listen."
"That takes balls," she laughed. "They have people all over town, looking for any masks."
"I can take care of myself," he shrugged.
"Clearly," she replied, mimicking him and waving a hand towards the bow and weapons table.
"Have you ever used anything like this?" he asked, holding up the bow.
"Nah, man. It's easier to use a piece," she replied tapping the pocket with her revolver in it. "Or worse case, i can get my hands on a bat or two."
"Any idiot can pull a trigger," he sighed, shaking his head. "I'm talking about discipline, accuracy, stealth. If you're going to be working with me, I need to know you can keep yourself safe."
"I can hold my own," she retorted, brushing it off.
"You have one good punch," he corrected. "What do you do when you're outnumbered, broken and bleeding?"
"I whip this baby out," she answered, hand going for the revolver.
"Rule number one," he announced, holding out his hand. "No guns."
"It sure beats a bow and arrow," she spat, slapping it into his hand.
"Do you think it's the weapon that gives you the advantage?" he asked, grinning at her.
"Well i mean it is a .45," she laughed, holding it up.
He chuckled to himself, holding his hands up and taking a step back.
"Point that at me then," he demanded.
She shrugged, obeying and sticking the revolver out directly at him in a one handed grip. In a matter of seconds, he closed the distance, wrenched the gun from her grip, hit her twice in the kidney and had her now weaponless arm hooking in his own. Using his hip and arm lock, he threw her off balance and spun her onto the floor. With a quick change in grip, he now had her revolver in a two handed grip pointing directly at her chest.
"What the hell?" she gasped, clutching her side and going to sit up.
"I'm going to train you the same way i was trained, the same way Sara did," he told her, switching hands with the revolver and holding out a hand to help her up. "If you listen, you just might live long enough to see her again."
"Alright, alright, fine," she grumbled, taking his hand and standing up; she dusted herself off and groaned while brushing her ribs.
"Rule number one?" he asked, looking her directly in the eyes.
"No guns," she replied with a sigh. "Then what do you expect me to use?"
"For now," he started, walking over to the spinney chair and pulling it out. "Your head. Once Henry says those ribs are healed, you'll see."
She sighed and rolled her eyes, walking over to the chair and sitting down.
"What am I supposed to do with all of this?" she asked, waving her hands at the workstation.
"Learn," he answered, "I'm going to need someone to watch my back while I'm in the field, you'll do that from here."
"I hate computers," she groaned, watching as he flipped through a few programs and showed her the comm system.
"Are you sure you've got it?" Jacob asked, running across the rooftop.
"I think so," he heard her reply through his earpiece, the sound of an arrow clattering off the wall accompanied by her groaning. "Using this bow, not so much."
"You'll learn," he laughed, jumping over a gap and rolling. "What about the file?"
He heard another arrow clatter off a wall in response, with her cursing low.
"Hang on," she said a half second later. "Last report made by a detective Abernathy says they've been observing a suspected stash house on that same block."
"What do we know about Abernathy?" he asked, coming to the final rooftop and leaning over the edge.
"Word on the street is he's corrupt, turns his eyes for Los Harcones and is paid handsomely for it."
"What do you think?" he asked, spotting an unmarked black vehicle sitting on the street, a lit cigarette hanging out the window.
"It's the Glades man," she admitted. "Corrupt cops are everywhere, no matter how much the mayor tries to hide it."
"Oliver never was big on honesty," Jacob grumbled.
"Wait, dude," she broke in, voice crackling over the comm in his ear. "You're on first name basis with the freaking mayor?"
"Focus," he warned, looking around the building. "What does this Abernathy look like?"
"Uhh," she paused, mouse clicks echoing over his ear piece. "Dark skin, buzzed black hair, has a …"
"Birthmark on his left hand?" he finished, cutting her off.
"How'd you know?" she asked, flicking through the file.
"He's sitting in an unmarked car and his smoking," He answered, nocking an arrow and shooting a line into the walley way, sliding down and landing silently.
"He could just be observing like his report says?" she assed.
"Not risking it," he grunted, pulling out a tranq dart and creeping closer.
"So you're just going to kill him?"
"No, we might be able to use him later," he answered, sliding up to the right side of the car, finding the window open.
"Ok, yea," she sighed. "I hadn't thought about that."
"Quiet,' he hissed, listening to the radio click on through the car.
A static burst crackled over the radio before leading to a voice.
"Dispatch to unit 75, come back," Came a woman's voice.
The man in the car, Abernathy, sighed, tossed his cigarette and picked up the receiver.
"This is unit 75, what's up dispatch?" he grunted, spitting a glob of phlegm out the window.
"Lt Drake is requesting a status report, what's your situation?" came the voice again in reply.
"Status is all clear," Abernathy replied chuckling. "No activity here."
"Copy that unit 75, carry on," the radio let out another burst of static before clicking off.
"Morons," he laughed to himself, hanging the receiver back on its hook.
"J, are you still there?" Came Sin's voice over Jacobs' commlink.
"Standby," he whispered, rolling out to the side and tossing the dart.
The dart whistled through the air and embedded itself into Abernathy's neck, just below his ear.
"What the…" he started, hand instinctively snapping to his neck. In a matter of seconds, he slumped to the side, unconscious.
"He's definitely corrupt," Jacob replied, tapping his commlink and standing up.
"Well at least that's cleared up," she laughed, another arrow clattering in the background. "How do you plan on handling the stash house he was watching?"
"I'm gonna blow straight through the front door," he chuckled, loading an explosive arrow and sighting on the door. "Keep an eye on the SCPD and EMS band, its gonna get loud."
Her response was cut off as the arrow launched, exploding the front door inward. The door flew through the hall, smashing and colliding off a wall before slamming into a Los Harcones thug.
"What the fuck?" came a voice from inside before two more thugs rounded the corner. They raised their automatic rifles for a split second before an arrow struck their chests.
"That got their attention," he heard Sin chuckle over his com.
"Keep on that band," he pressed, knocking another arrow and moving inside.
"Working on it," she sighed, mouse clicking away.
He moved further inside, bow raised as the smoke from the explosion cleared. Turning the corner, he came face to face with the barrel of an automatic weapon. The thugs eyes went wide, finger inching closer to the trigger. Before he could pull it, Jacob forced the barrel upwards, whipping his bow across the thugs chest twice rapidly. He groaned, fingers squeezing the trigger, the rifle bursting in automatic. Bullets ripped through the ceiling ,causing plaster and chunks of ceiling tile to rain down. The thug tried to bring down the barrel, Jacob wrenching it to the side before bringing his bow down on the thugs hands. Squealing in pain, he dropped the rifle, only to be silenced by Jacobs bow hand crashing into his face. The thug hit the ground, blood pouring down his face. Jacob knocked another arrow, pulling back and inching around the door.
"Ok, i think I've got it," came Sin's voice as he edged into the room. "Patching it through to you now."
In an instant, multiple things happened at once. First the earpiece Jacob was wearing burst on, spewing the Police, Fire and EMS chatter into his head.
"This is Delta Charlie 97, shots fired, shots fired, requesting backup and EMS immediately!"
Suddenly, a fist came flying out from the side, catching Jacob square in the side of the head as he winced from the noise.
"Turn it off!" he growled, spinning to the side to face his unseen opponent. His vision blurred for a second before refocusing on a bandana covered face, eyes barely visible. He managed to block the second punch with his bow hand before recovering and launching his own offensive.
"Shit, im sorry." he heard Sin mutter, the audio assault dying off in a few seconds.
Jacob ignored her, knocking the thug back by slamming his left foot directly into his chest. He stumbled, back slamming against the wall. Trying to recover, the thug launched forward, quickly being rerouted by Jacob to where he had him by the torso, his hands holding onto the thug's neck and shoulders. With a simple twitch and the sickening crunch of bones,, he broke the thugs neck and tossed his body aside.
"Are you alright?" he heard Sin call over the commlink.
"I'm fine," he mumbled, shaking off the hit. "Keep the police band on your end only. Bottom left corner should be a button to do so."
"Shit," he heard her say again. "I found it."
"Good," he went on, finding a pile of money stacked up on a table. "What are they saying?"
"There's three squad cars outside," she relayed, turning up the volume on her side slightly. "And they've called for an ESU, whatever that is."
"Extreme situation unit," he answered with a sigh, stuffing several stacks into his jacket. "Usual response time is about ten minutes."
"Then you've got five to get out," she groaned, trying to listen to both radios, a bead of sweat beginning to trickle down her face.
Not bothering to waste time replying, he sprinted out of the room, looking for a kitchen or any usable explosive. Bursting through another door, he found two thugs arguing over a small gas stove in spanish. Reaching for their weapons but being ultimately too slow, they hit the ground with an arrow sticking out of their chests. Spotting the gas line, he kicked it loose, the smell of propane beginning to slowly fill the room. With a grunt, he kicked the tank down the hall. After a few seconds delay to make sure it emptied enough, he stabbed an explosive arrow into the table, tapping it to timed delay. Sprinting to the adjacent window, he dove through the glass and started falling towards the street. With a twist in midair and quick aim, he shot an arrow up to the next building's roof, where it embedded itself and pulled the contained cable taught. He swung in an arch, slamming into the side of the building with an audible groan as the previous building exploded into a fireball.
"Holy shit!" he heard one of the patrolmen yell from his car. "Everybody get back!"
"The EMS band is going nuts," came Sins voice over Jacobs comm. "What did you do?"
"Improvised," he groaned, using the line to pull himself up the building before the SCPD had a chance to spot him. "Cross off another stash house."
"I don't get how you expect me to use this thing," Sin grumbled as Jacob climbed through the window, arrow clattering against the wall. "Where'd you even get another one?"
"You could say i borrowed it," he chuckled, taking the hood off and tossing it to the chair
He watched as she clumsily knocked an arrow, pulled back and let loose. The arrow wobbled in mid air, completely missing the foam block target they had set up.
"You're rushing," he advised, watching her form. "Not aiming, completely off balance."
"I don't have the patience for one of these," she groaned, waving the bow at him.
"Try this instead then," he insisted, picking up a hand crossbow from underneath the weapons table. He showed her how to load it quickly, slapping a bolt into the groove before holding it up in a two handed grip. Taking a second to aim, he squeezed the trigger. The bolt launched forward, embedding itself in the center circle. Before she could react, he was already reloading and sighting. The second bolt struck directly beside the first, causing Sin to flinch and do a double take.
"How the hell did you do that?" she gawked, staring from the crossbow to the target.
"Months of practice," he smirked, handing her the crossbow. "Try it."
She took the crossbow, weighing it in her hand. Fumbling with the loading mechanism, she wrenched it back. She dropped a bolt into the groove slightly too fast, sending it tumbling to the floor. With a grunt, she picked up another bolt, managing to keep it in this time. She lifted the crossbow up with one hand, wobbling slightly, yanking on the trigger. The bolt rocketed forward, catching the side of the target and bouncing off the walls. She sighed, watching as the bolt came to a stop and clattered to the ground.
"Try it again," he urged.
She groaned, walking through each step, this time slightly more confident.
"Two hands this time."
Nodding, she grasped the crossbow with both hands, albeit slightly too far apart. Aiming down the line, she eased the trigger back, this time striking the upper right corner of the foam and embedding itself. Her eyes lit up, but frowned when she looked down at her hands.
"Still doesn't feel right," she mumbled, fidgeting with it.
"Practice with it, you need to find something to keep distance with," he offered, handing her a few more bolts. "Try the Khali sticks too, its a good base to start your hand to hand training."
"On the dummy?" she asked, raising her eyebrow and waving a stick at it. "What challenge does that give?"
"None," he admitted, taking off his league jacket and hanging it up in his glass case. "But the point isn't for a challenge, the point is to work on your form."
"What're you going to do?" she asked as he sat down in a corner and folded his legs underneath himself.
"I need to rest," he groaned as he rolled his shoulders and started positioning himself into a meditative stance.
"But you said you don't sleep?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't," he admitted, closing his eyes. "But occasionally i need to rest."
"That doesn't make any sense?" she pressed, but it ultimately fell on deaf ears, Jacob did not respond and his breathing had massively slowed.
"That's just weird."
She shook her head, turning around and flipping the sticks into her hands, trying to mimic the form she had watched Sara use countless times before.