Chapter 6: Complications
"What the hell is this!?" Cottonmouth's shout echoed through his spacious office as he slammed a newspaper down onto his desk made of rich, dark wood. From his position on the other side of the desk, Shades glanced down at the newspaper, which had the words "Green Arrow Strikes!" written across the top in bold, black letters.
"There was a….complication with Ivan collecting from one of his buyers last night," Shades replied in an even tone.
"No shit!" Cottonmouth snapped as he glared at Shades, "I read the damn story! I want to know why we don't have this would-be hero's head on a spike yet!?"
"It all happened very fast," Shades explained, "We're still gathering information about what occurred."
"Screw gathering information!" Cottonmouth snarled, "Just get a bunch of your boys, go house to house, and gut anyone who owns a bow!"
"Sir, I'm not sure that's the best way to handle this," Shades said with an uncertain expression.
"Look, you weren't around then but back in the day, I was Black Lightning's number one target," Cottonmouth explained, "So, I know exactly how much trouble these kinds of masked freaks can be."
"But you were victorious, in the end," Shades observed.
"Which is precisely why you should listen to what I'm telling you," Cottonmouth pushed.
"I understand what you're saying, sir," Shades replied with a nod, "But Black Lightning had superpowers. This guy got the drop on some of our men with a weapon five hundred years out of date. I don't think we have to take drastic action just yet."
"Fine, have it your way," Cottonmouth relented as he gave Shades a venomous look, "But just know this. If you don't bring me this son of a bitch's head, I'll settle for yours instead."
"Don't worry, sir," Shades answered with a grim expression, "This guy is as good as dead."
Later,
Near the heart of Star City stood the cube shaped building that functioned as the central police precinct for the city. Deep within the building was an interrogation room much like the one Oliver had sat in when he first met his father years before. This room, however, was currently occupied by a bruised and battered Ivan, who was sitting across from a coldly silent Misty.
"I don't know what you want me to say, lady detective bro," Ivan grumbled as he rested his head in his palm while his elbow was propped up on the table, "I was attacked by man in mask."
"Yes, and I'm sure that had nothing to do with the murder you were about to commit," Misty commented evenly, "Or the drugs we found in your office."
"I promise you, bro, I have no idea what you're talking about," Ivan replied, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Sure," Misty said, looking completely unconvinced before she began rifling through the file that sat on the table in front of her, "How about-"
It was at that moment that Misty was interrupted by a knock at the door leading into the room. Her brow furrowing as she looked at the offending door, Misty rose to her feet and marched over to it. Opening the door a crack, Misty looked through and found Scarfe standing on the other side.
"Sorry to bother you, partner," Scarfe apologized with a look of chagrin, "I know you hate being interrupted in the middle of an interrogation."
"And yet, here you are, doing just that," Misty replied sardonically.
"Well, the commissioner wanted to talk to our suspect," Scarfe answered with a nervous expression.
"The commissioner?" Misty repeated, her expression morphed into one of bewilderment.
"Indeed, Detective," a masculine voice with a slight accent replied.
Opening the door, Misty found another man standing next to Scarfe. He was a well-built Caucasian man of short stature, the top of his head coming up only to Misty's nose. He had short black hair and a goatee, his eyes concealed by a pair of dark sunglasses. He was dressed in a black business suit with a white button up shirt, but without a tie.
"Commissioner Drakon," Misty said, straightening up as she looked at the man.
"I'd like to speak with your suspect," the man, Drakon, stated.
"Um, of course, sir," Misty replied as she blinked in surprise, "Though his lawyer might object when they arrive."
"They already have," another voice said, prompting Misty to fully open the door, revealing Shades standing on the other side, "Now, if you don't mind, Detective, the commissioner would like to have a word with my client."
Misty studied the three men in front of her for a moment before she sighed.
"He's all yours, sir," Misty relented as she stepped to the side in order to let the men enter. As she stepped out of the room and moved to close the door, Misty glanced over at Ivan, and noted the look of shock on the man's face as he saw Shades and Drakon. Her expression turning troubled, Misty nevertheless finished closing the door and disappeared from view.
After Misty and Scarfe had left, Drakon and Shades sat at the table, opposite Ivan, who nervously glanced between the two men.
"Hey, Ivan," Shades greeted as he settled into his seat, "How's it hanging?"
"Good, bro," Ivan replied with a nervous chuckle, "I mean, not so good, since I'm here, bro. But you know, otherwise, real good bro."
"Now, you see, Ivan, I don't think that's true," Shades replied with a shake of his head, "I think you're doing pretty bad, actually. I mean, you got yourself and your men arrested. Any of the Vertigo you had for distribution is now in the hands of the cops. And you didn't even manage to kill the one junkie that Cottonmouth asked you too. Honestly, from where I'm sitting, if our boss wasn't such good friends with the commissioner here, you'd be pretty much screwed."
"I, uh, I guess that's true, bro," Ivan agreed with a nod of his head before he flashed a hopeful grin at the two men, "But it's all good now, right bros? You bros are here to get me out, right?"
"Something like that," Shades answered with a nod, "We were hoping you could answer some questions for us first."
"Questions?" Ivan repeated with a snort of amusement, "You bros are starting to sound like cops."
"Well, I am the commissioner," Drakon spoke up, his expression impassive as he looked at Ivan.
"Er, right," Ivan replied, looking slightly embarrassed, "So, what did you bros want to know?"
"Well, first off," Shades replied as his expression became very serious,"What did you tell them about our operation?"
"Nothing, bro!" Ivan answered as he quickly shook his hands in front of himself, "I'm no rat, bro."
"Good," Shades said with a nod as he retrieved a pen and notebook from his jacket pocket, "At least you managed to do that right. Now, what can you tell us about the guy who attacked you and your men?"
"Not much, bro," Ivan replied, "Like I told the cops, bro, he was wearing a mask and hood. Couldn't see his face."
"Well, what can you tell us about him?" Shades asked with an annoyed sigh.
"He was kind of a short bro," Ivan explained, "His skin was kind of brownish. He was wearing raggedy clothing that looked like it had been through hell and back. Even his bow looked old."
"So we're looking for a short guy in secondhand clothes," Shades mumbled to himself as he scribbled some notes into the notebook, "I suppose it's more than we had to go on before. Any idea of why he attacked you? Did he try and take the Vertigo?"
"No, bro, he didn't even ask about it," Ivan answered with a shake of his head, "It was like he just cared about saving some junkie, bro. It was weird."
"Right, and what was this junkie's name again?" Shades inquired.
"Uh, Roy, bro," Ivan provided after thinking for a moment, "Roy Harper. He rents in my building. Double the income, you know, bro?"
"Yes, a very sound business strategy," Shades replied sarcastically as he wrote some more in his notebook, "Is there anything else you think we'd want to know about the situation?"
"Uh, well, this Roy guy seems like he's got a lot of friends in the apartment, bro," Ivan answered as he scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Seems weird to me, bro. I mean, why would you want to be friends with a junkie, right bro?"
"We'll make sure to look into that," Shades said as he closed his notebook and put it and his pen back into his jacket pocket, "Thank you for the information."
"So, are you bros going to get me out of here?" Ivan asked hopefully as he watched Shades and Drakon rise to their feet.
"Oh, I'm afraid not," Shades replied with a shake of his head, "In fact, I'm sorry to say, but we're going to have to let you go."
"Let me go?" Ivan questioned in confusion as he rose to his feet as well, "Cottonmouth doesn't fire people, bro."
"You're right," Shades agreed with an unreadable expression.
As if a signal had been given, Drakon nimbly hopped up onto the table. As Ivan looked at him in surprise, Drakon spun in place and struck the larger man on the chin with a roundhouse kick. The force of the blow snapped Ivan's head viciously to the side and a loud crack came from the man's neck before he collapsed bonelessly to the floor, his gaze becoming glassy and vacant.
"Your men will take care of this?" Shades asked as Drakon hopped off the table.
"It will be like he was never here," Drakon replied, "No one's going to miss some low-life drug dealer."
"Good," Shades said with a nod, "This is enough of a mess as it is."
"Did you get what you need?" Drakon inquired as he quirked an eyebrow at Shades.
"I think so," Shades confirmed with a nod, "It looks like I'm going to need to have a talk with Roy Harper."
Meanwhile,
The late afternoon sun hung heavy over Star City casting the entire city in red hues and long shadows. Oliver walked through one of these shadows, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his head bowed low in thought. As Oliver walked, a car pulled up alongside him, and lifting his head, the young man saw Jefferson in the driver's seat.
"Mr. Pierce?" Oliver questioned in confusion as he arched an eyebrow at the older man.
"Get in the car, Oliver," Jefferson said, his expression serious as he put the car into park, "We need to talk."
"What?" Oliver asked as his brow furrowed.
"Get in the car, Oliver," Jefferson repeated in a tone that brokered no argument.
Oliver hesitated for a moment, seemingly put off by Jefferson's attitude, but then let out a sigh and walked over to the car's passenger side before climbing into the front seat. As soon as Oliver had fastened his seatbelt, Jefferson put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb.
"So….what's up?" Oliver inquired as he looked at Jefferson in confusion.
"You tell me," Jefferson replied as he reached into the back of his car, pulled out a newspaper and dropped it onto Oliver's lap.
Blinking in surprise, Oliver looked down the paper and read the headline.
"Who's the Green Arrow?" Oliver inquired as he quirked an eyebrow at Jefferson.
"Don't bullshit me, Oliver," Jefferson replied sternly.
"What?" Oliver asked, doing his best to feign confusion, "What do you mean?"
"I said, don't bullshit me!" Jefferson suddenly snapped as he slammed on the brakes and spun to face Oliver, pointing an accusatory finger at Oliver's face, causing the young man to jerk back in surprise. As this happened, Oliver felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and the car filled with the faint smell of ozone.
"What the hell is your problem, man!?" Oliver demanded defensively as the cars behind Jefferson began to sound their horns.
"My problem is you're the Green Arrow," Jefferson said as he began driving again, his tone stone cold serious.
Oliver blinked in surprise at the acquisition, and his gut reaction was to lie. But as he processed how the last few minutes had gone, he let out a sigh and slumped back in his seat.
"I guess I am," Oliver said as he crossed his arms, "How'd you figure it out so easily?"
"It wasn't exactly hard," Jefferson answered as he drove, "This new vigilante shows up in your apartment building, only a few days after you roll back into town after disappearing for five years, wearing the same outfit you were when you came to my office? I didn't need to be a genius to put the pieces together, Oliver."
"Well, I guess I should be thankful that not everyone has the same pieces that you do," Oliver commented with a sigh.
"You're right, you should be," Jefferson replied, heat rising in his voice, "You've managed to kick the hornet's nest with this one. Don't you know how dangerous Cottonmouth is?"
"I mean, I grew up in this neighborhood, so yeah, I know not to cross Cottonmouth," Oliver replied as he gave Jefferson a withering look.
"Yeah, but do you know why?" Jefferson pressed, "Because I'm willing to bet you haven't found one of your friends gutted in a back alley, left to bleed out as a warning to others."
Noting the intensity in Jefferson's voice, Oliver studied him the man for a moment.
"Look, I get it, I'm in deep shit if Cottonmouth manages to figure out who I am," Oliver confirmed, "But there was nothing I could do. One of his dealers was about to murder someone."
"You could have done nothing," Jefferson mumbled, his expression turning haunted.
"And let them just kill Roy!?" Oliver questioned, looking at Jefferson in shock, "What the hell, man? What's gotten into you? The Mr. Pierce who was always telling me to do the right thing while I was growing up would never say shit like that!"
"Well, maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do!" Jefferson replied heatedly as he pulled the car off the road and onto the gravel laden space beneath a railway overpass, "But I'm not here to answer your questions. You're here to answer mine."
Putting the car into park, Jefferson shut it off and turned his attention fully towards Oliver, who flinched under the intensity of the man's glare.
"Now, tell me," Jefferson pressed, "Where did you learn to take down armed men with a bow and arrow?"
Five years earlier,
Stumbling through the jungle, Oliver followed Clint as the older man led him up to the mouth of a cave that was partially hidden by a curtain of vines. Brushing the vines to the side, Clint ushered Oliver inside, the young man stumbling over a large stone that was hidden by the inky darkness inside the cave.
"Easy, kid," Clint said as he heard Oliver stumble, "Take a seat while I get the lights turned on."
Doing as instructed, Oliver settled onto the rock he had tripped over as he heard Clint walk past him. After listening to Clint stumble around in the dark for a few moments, Oliver was suddenly blinded as a pair of electrical lights sprung to life. Blinking his eyes clear, Oliver was able to see that the cave was about forty feet deep with a ten foot high ceiling. Near the back of the room, a few pieces of equipment had been set up, including a pair of electric lights that were held up by a metal stand, and a weatherproofed laptop sitting on a stone shelf.
"There that's better," Clint commented as he stepped away from the lights, "You all good, kid?"
"Fine, I guess," Oliver replied as he reached down and rubbed one of his feet, "I mean, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel after being tied up for who knows how long and then running barefoot through the jungle."
"Like crap, in all honesty," Clint answered as he stepped over to a black rucksack and began rummaging through it, "I once had to run barefoot through the snow for two miles after I got captured by these crazy Russian terrorists. Almost lost one of my big toes due to frostbite."
"That sounds pretty rough," Oliver commented.
"Yeah, which is why I know that we should get you some medical attention as soon as possible," Clint said as he pulled out a roll of linen bandages and tossed them over to Oliver before he walked over to the laptop and opened it up, "Just give me a chance to contact SHIELD and we'll get a whole brigade down here to back us up and blow these guys off the map."
Clint was quiet for a moment as he began rapidly entering commands into the laptop while Oliver began wrapping his injured feet with the bandages. After a few moments though, Clint's brow furrowed in confusion as he entered a few more commands into the laptop. Letting out a snarl, Clint smacked the side of the laptop before slamming the computer closed.
"What's wrong?" Oliver inquired as he looked at Clint with a concerned expression.
"There's no signal," Clint said as he put the computer to the side, "I can't get a message out."
"What do you mean you can't get a message out?" Oliver asked in confusion, "You got all this hi-tech spy gear and you can't send a freaking text!?"
"Look, I don't know what to tell you, kid!" Clint replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "It's like…."
Clint trailed off and lowered his hand as a look of realization crossed his features.
"What?" Oliver asked as his brow furrowed in confusion, "What is it?"
"They're blocking the signal," Clint whispered before he suddenly raised his voice loud enough that it echoed off of the surrounding walls, "They've got a freaking signal jammer!"
"What, so these guys are purposefully blocking any signals off of the island?" Oliver questioned.
"Exactly!" Clint replied as he rose to his feet and pointed a finger at Oliver, "They've got some kind of device that's probably set up somewhere in their compound that is blocking signals from getting off the island. That's probably why your dad wanted to come and check the place out himself."
"So, what do we do now?" Oliver asked.
"Well, I've got to find some way to get back into their compound and shut down that signal jammer," Clint answered as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "It won't be easy though, based on what I've seen of the place."
"Can we just like, wait it out?" Oliver inquired, "I mean, your people will have to know something is up when you don't check in, right?"
"They will, but that won't be for some time," Clint countered with a look of chagrin, "This was a scouting mission, and I've been known to go quiet for weeks at a time on these things. Plus, this whole operation is much bigger than I was expecting it to be, so if my people come in, they might be walking into a slaughter."
"So, what's your plan then?" Oliver questioned.
"I'm going to need to get into that compound and take out the signal jammer, then send out a message for back up," Clint explained as he gave Oliver a pointed look, "And it's not something I'm going to be able to do alone."
"Wait, you want my help!?" Oliver asked as he looked at Clint incredulously, "Are you crazy!? I'm not a secret agent or whatever, I'm just a kid from Star City!"
"Which is why I'm going to have to get you into shape," Clint replied as he went back to his rucksack and began rummaging through it again, "I'm going to give you a crash course in the most useful skill you'll ever have."
"What's that?" Oliver asked wearily before Clint pulled something out of the rucksack and tossed it at him.
Catching the item instinctively, Oliver blinked in surprise as he looked down at it, and found he was holding a plain, worn, wooden bow in his hands. His brow furrowing in confusion, Oliver lifted his head and looked at Clint, only to find the man grinning at him.
"Archery," Clint beamed.
A/N: Been awhile since I've been able to update this one, so I'm happy to add this one, even if it's a bit of a bridge chapter. As usual, feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!