Chapter Six
She hates it here.
She hates the island, the cold, the monastery, the incessant chanting, the mindless obedience. She hates all of it.
The archer has no idea how long they've been there. A year and a half? Maybe more? There's no change of seasons here, and she hasn't seen a phone, tablet or the internet since they left the States.
Being around all these zombie sycophants give her the creeps. How did Jade live like this? If this is what it's like to be a Shadow, she wants no part of it.
Her very annoyed sister reminds her once again they are damn lucky the League of Shadows has provided them refuge.
You're a guest, act like one.
It's a professional courtesy that's allowed them to stay on Infinity Island as long as they have. If the archer doesn't like or appreciate it, she's welcome to leave at any time.
And go where? she chuckles bitterly to herself.
Every hideout and safehouse they've ever used runs the risk of being compromised now. In the beginning, they never stayed in any of them for more than a few hours. Her father prefers the term strategic withdrawal, but she and Jade knew the truth. They were running for their lives.
To save face, her father now dismisses the Light as some kind of cult that he never truly believed in. He was in it purely for the profit; a boost to his reputation, and a check with lots of zeros attached. One he still intends to collect. Through back channels, accommodations were made with the Shadows, but they aren't free. A debt owed is a debt to be repaid.
The archer is kept completely in the dark. Her father says nothing, shares nothing. Perhaps it's to keep her safe, perhaps because he doesn't entirely trust her. Thankfully Jade does.
As the story goes, Al Guhl feels betrayed by the Light as well. It's the incompetence of leadership that led them to this point. Luthor and Savage allowed jealousy and greed to stand in the way of a new dawn for all mankind.
Recent setbacks called for timetables to be pulled back, instead they pressed forward. Rushing ahead foolishly when restraint was called for. He expected it from Luthor, but not from Savage. Lifetimes lived does not always equal itself out in wisdom.
It was naïve to believe the Justice League could be dispatched so easily. That kind of short sightedness was the beginning of the end, derailing a plan that had been decades in the making, and now someone must pay. After all, light is the enemy of shadow.
Much like Sportsmaster, Ra's al Guhl now finds himself on a very short list belonging to one of the most powerful strike forces history has ever known, and he is an expert on history. It won't be long before the detective comes calling, and he'll bring friends. The immortal does not plan to be present when that day comes, but until then, there is unfinished business. That's where this alliance begins, albeit a shaky one.
It's simple enough. Take the pieces from the game and the chessboard is theirs.
Find the remaining members of the Light before the League does and dispatch them by any means necessary.
Loose lips sink ships as they say, and right now the remaining members of the Light are fleeing their sinking ship like rats. If a deal can be made to save themselves, they won't think twice. No honor among thieves.
In the end, al Guhl knows Crock will betray him, but for now he's still useful, and the Demon's Head has nothing but time.
The only time she leaves the island is when her father takes them all on a few errands to rival cartels and clans that might have information the Demon's Head could find valuable. They never go far, and she's always blindfolded to and from.
Most of them share what they know rather quickly; others take some persuasion. Sometimes a message needs to be sent. She won't kill. Her father calls her weak, but she doesn't care. Regardless, she rarely leaves these errands unbloodied.
The rest of her time its training, training and more training. She thought her dad was brutal; sensei is worse. Sportsmaster seems to relish in her pain. He
may not want her to be a Shadow, but he wants her to be deadly, a tool he can use. Sensei will make sure of that.
Just when she thinks this is her fate, two pieces suddenly join the game. Deathstroke and Lady Shiva arrive on the island with news. Ocean Master is dead. A clean kill with no witnesses, his body set adrift near Iceland. The Brain is next; they have several promising leads.
Shiva makes it immediately makes clear that Crock's youngest daughter doesn't belong. She's doesn't trust that the archer has truly chosen a side. Once a mole, always a mole.
Sportsmaster sees their rationale differently; they see him as a threat. A whisper in the Demon Heads ear; moving his way up the chain while their role in the hierarchy comes into question. Admittedly the Atlantean death tilts the wheel in their favor, but when al Guhl fails to mention or support the work and success Sportmaster has had to date, he knows he's outlived his usefulness.
As much as he'd like to put his mace through that one eyed bastard's skull, he doubts his daughters would survive a few rounds against Shiva. If things were different, he'd pay to see that match, but now is not the time.
The Great One seems disappointed the trio is leaving, but assures Sportsmaster their alliance stands. He is a man of his word, of that there is no doubt. Crock promises himself he will put that on the immortal's gravestone.
Survival of the fittest
The archer is shocked when her father tells her to gather her things. Jade is prepared to fight her way off this island if necessary, thankfully it doesn't come to that.
As the hood is placed over her head and they are escorted to the boat. the archer hopes she never sees this fucking place ever again. She has no idea what they will do or where they will go, but she tells her sister anything is better than this.
Jade warns her to be careful what she wishes for.
Months later…
She's nervous as she steps off the subway, glancing around carefully in all directions to make sure she hasn't been followed. She knows exactly where the security cameras are, and carefully blends in with the masses as they make their way street side.
She's a brunette now, her long blonde mane now a short wavy bob. The archer doesn't even recognize herself anymore, but at least Jade finds the change amusing; for once they actually do look like sisters.
It is so stupid for her to be here. She's never even met this man before. Why in the hell does the only fence her dad trusts have to live in Gotham. It's obvious they need the cash. Their funds are starting to run now. The diamonds they've acquired will set them up for quite a while, at least until the next score; the big one her father keeps promising. He constantly preaches about keeping a low profile while at the same time taking more and more risks. How much is enough for this man?
She's so tempted to take the jewels and run. To truly start over, but she can't do it to her sister. Jade has been the only thing that's kept her going; kept her sane.
In the end, the answer to why it as to be her is simple. She's expendable.
Thanks Dad
Her father always keeps his plans compartmentalized. The archer couldn't betray him if she tried. All she can do is fall on her sword. Maybe the League has forgotten about her; more interested in the big fish the tiny minnows. She nearly laughs out loud at the idea. She's fucked for life and she knows it.
She's memorized the route, and to get there she'll have to cut through some of the roughest neighborhoods in Gotham, but she's not scared. They should be scared of her.
She knows this area like the back of the back of her hand. She grew up here after all. As she turns down Sutter Avenue, she stays in the shadows, away from all traffic and security cameras that line the way. At the last second, she veers off course, heading down 233rd St. when she finally sees it.
Gotham North.
A part of her wondered if the old deteriorating school had finally been torn down, succumbing to the eventual gentrification so many other local neighborhoods had.
It's pretty much just the same way she remembered it. The gym windows have finally been fixed, and it looks like they may have repaved the basketball court, but other than that it's still the same. She can still hear the ring of the bell for first period, the smell of fresh fries in the cafeteria. The laughter of friends.
She wonders whatever happened to them. They'd lose their shit if they could see her now.
She liked it here. She never wanted to go Gotham Academy. The Wayne Scholarship, the one she never applied for, was utter bullshit. Probably something Ollie dreamed up and pulled strings for her to get. Some billionaire from Gotham probably owed him a favor.
Rich guys…
She knew she didn't belong, as did most of her classmates. The project girl, the charity case. Snooty kids and their stupid preconceptions. Eventually she did make some friends, people kind enough not to judge a book by its cover.
The Academy was so different from where she'd come from. AP classes, clubs and sports she'd never even heard of. School uniforms, Codes of Conduct, formal dances, mandatory extra curriculars. You name it, they had it, and if they didn't, they started one. In hindsight, that was kind of cool of them.
It was nice to have a library with books that were actually printed in the 21st century. She always enjoyed reading. Who knows, maybe she would have taught literature one day.
Her grades were excellent and while she still had a year to go, scholarship opportunities were beginning to take shape. How much of that had to do with the hard work she's put in or the prestige of the Academy she'll never know.
She would have been the first Crock to graduate high school. The first Crock to go to college. To study something other than how to be an assassin and a thief. To actually make something of herself.
Eventually the team would have discovered what she and the speedster had tried so hard to hide. It probably wouldn't have gone well at first, but she can almost her Megan's squeals of delight afterwards. She's always thought they'd make a cute couple.
She and the speedster discussed college a bit, how could they not? He was leaning west, she wanted east. If they'd stayed together, it would have been fun to see who held their ground and who submitted. If she was being honest, California did hold some appeal.
The archer wonders where he ended up. Did he follow his dreams? Did he stick with physics? Did he still think of her? Could he ever forgive her?
None of that matters anymore.
Since she arrived back in Gotham, she's tried so hard not to think about her mother. From here, the Hamilton Hill Housing Development: a politically correct name for the projects, is only about twenty minutes walk. It's all her mom could only afford on disability, but it could have been worse. Paula Crock always made it feel like home.
Of course, that's provided her mother even lives there anymore. If she did, it's a given the apartment would be under constant surveillance, and even if it wasn't, who's to say her mother wouldn't call the Batman herself.
She must be so angry, so hurt. Since prison, all Paula Crock ever wanted was a different life her for her children. Jade was long gone by the time she was released, but the archer never gave up on her, and Paula swore to herself she would do everything in her power to help her youngest succeed and not fall into the trap of the family business.
She was in an excellent school. She had good friend and role models; opportunities Paula could never had dreamed of. Green Arrow and the League had a vested interest in her success. Perhaps even one day she would have been asked to join their ranks. The sky was the limit.
Artemis Crock - Justice Leaguer. What a fucking joke.
Her mother had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, just to watch the archer fall into her father's grasp.
Did she blame herself for not being a better mother, a stronger person? She'd failed with Jade, but Paula had held out so much hope for her youngest child.
It wasn't her fault. Her mom needed to know that.
The temptation to reach out is so strong, the risks involved worth taking, but before the archer even thinks about taking that first step, the city suddenly becomes a flurry of activity. Sirens wail in the distance, getting louder and louder each second. She takes a deep breath to calm herself.
It could be anything. She can't even count the number of times she's sat on the roof of her mom's apartment watching something similar. This is a nightly occurrence. This is Gotham
After a few moments her stress begins to wane, but it's short lived when she notices the bright spotlight reflecting off the clouds above.
The Batsignal.
Next follows a desperate text. There's no name but she knows it's Jade.
Get out of the city now
The archer closes her phone, fear swelling in her throat and stomach. They've found her
The streets around her begins to close in and she doesn't know what direction to turn. She sees the blue flashing lights in the distance, hears the sirens getting louder by the second. She's trapped. The archer begins to panic when she hears her father's words echoing in her head.
You're a Crock. Crocks don't panic.
Urgently she begins to make her way up the street, her hand gripped tightly around the felt satchel in her coat pocket, even though getting caught with a million dollars worth of diamonds is the least of her worries.
She sees the blue lights, now just up the block, speeding in her direction. She stops in front of Bob's Discount Electronics, palms sweating as she nonchalantly feigns interest in one of the multiple TVs in the storefront window. She might be able to fight one or two of them off, but not all.
Her body tenses as the deafening sirens arrive right next to her, and then continue down the street without stopping. When the flashing lights disappear in the distance, the archer closes her eyes, trying to slow down the beating of her heart. She feels like she's going to throw up. She's so fucking lucky.
She looks both ways, preparing to step back to the shadows when she notices the breaking news story right in front of her. She can't hear anything through the glass, but a chryon quickly appears next to a photograph of a young brown-haired women now in custody. Mercy Graves; personal assistant and bodyguard for a one Lex Luthor.
Holy Shit!
Shaky cell phone footage shows Graves putting up a fight with airport police and local Gotham PD, her cybernetic enhancements blasting away, sending law enforcement and travelers frantically seeking cover around the terminal.
The fight ends quickly when the Dark Knight and the Amazon Princess arrive. She's good, but not that good. After that, she's taken into custody without incident.
Luthor's number one. If they got her, then they're getting closer to Lex. She wonders who else could they be closing in on? The archer feels that paranoia creeping back in. She's got to move.
Her phone buzzes again. Looking down, all it says is Pier 45.
If her father wants her at the Port of Gotham, that means airports, train stations and interstates to and from the city are all too hot right now. The archer closes her phone, feeling a sense of relief that her father actually cares about her safety, until she remembers she's holding on to two million dollars' worth of uncut diamonds.
Yeah, that makes more sense.
The sun begins to creep over the horizon when she finally arrives at the docks. Moving through Gotham is tough enough already, but a hell of a lot harder without using any form of mass transit. There are just too many cameras to take the chance.
After another half hour of searching the docks, she finally finds the correct pier; a heavily bearded man standing impatiently near his ship. When he sees her approach, his body language does a full 360. This is probably the most important cargo he's ever carried, or at least the most dangerous one. It's not every day you're transporting an assassin's daughter up the coast.
It's sad she finds that term empowering.
Before they go any farther, he hands her a note. It's from her father.
Head to Logan's place. Apartment number 413. Be there by 11:15 pm tomorrow. Ditch the phone.
She shreds the paper, looking for a garbage can she can put it when the captain nods to the water. She pitches it and her phone into the water and heads to the ship.
It's a simple enough code. Boston Logan International Airport. Flight Number 413. Her father wouldn't send here there if he didn't think it was safe. She's curious as to where the flight will take her, what direction she'll be dragged next.
For just a moment, she imagines turning around and going back to the city, finding some jeweler willing to give her a fair price for the diamonds and then just disappearing. Truly leaving the life behind. What would that even be like? No more abuse, no more hurting people or turning a blind eye when someone else does. To no longer be Sportsmaster's daughter, but instead a real person.
She sighs, ending the fantasy. He'd find her: he always does.
As she steps onto the creaky fishing trawler, she begins to feel a bit nauseous. She hates the ocean, or at least large bodies of water. Newly drowning twice will do that to you. The worn condition of the fatigued old ship does not ease her fears.
The captain tells her it will be about a seven-to-eight-hour cruise depending on weather patterns and ocean traffic; factors he has absolutely no control over as he points out the line of cargo ships waiting to get into port. There's a storm forming in the mid Atlantic but the chances of it moving towards the mainland is low. Regardless they need to be ready for anything.
For now, they'll have to wait and squeeze into the channel as soon as there's an opening. If you're trying to avoid unnecessary attention to yourself, not violating maritime laws is a good start.
So they wait, and wait, and wait.
Finally, a channel opens and they're on their way. The smell of diesel fuel permeates the air as she stands astern, looking back at Gotham, wondering if this will be the last time she sees the city.
She thinks of her mother and the pain she's caused her, the grief and guilt she must carry. She's lost both daughters to the life. She wasn't a perfect mother, but since she returned from prison, Paula Crock spent every single day trying to make amends, to save the archer and her sisters from the same mistakes she'd made.
The archer loves her mom for that. She wishes she'd told her that more. She wishes she could hug her one last time.
She wishes…she wishes
—
The archer stretches out on one of the long benches in the galley, propping her backpack behind her. She hasn't slept in what seems like days. Though she doesn't feel particularly safe on board a ship with shady looking fisherman and smugglers, she doubts anyone would be stupid enough to try something. They know who her father is, they know his reputation. If something were to happen to her, he would hunt them down and anyone they ever cared about. Maybe not for her as much as his reputation. Regardless she finds a little peace in that as she slowly drifts away.
She's has that dream again. The one where's she's Alice, running through the mushroom fields, the Bandersnatch close on her heels. No matter how fast she's runs, it feels like she's slipping in glass. All the while the Mad Hatter laughs and sips his tea.
—
The back of her head suddenly slams into the galley window as her backpack shifts with the rocking of the boat. She has no idea how long she's been asleep, but she knows when she closed her eyes, the boat wasn't rocking like this.
She struggles to make it topside when she sees the crew rushing across the deck, tying everything down that's not secured. The wind is howling, a salty mist slicks her skin. When she looks out to the ocean all she sees is black.
The captain urgently pulls her into the bridge, explaining that a subtropical dome of high pressure has mixed with the colder arctic currents faster than expected and now has steered the storm back towards the mainline.
She stares back at him with a dumbfounded confusion. What is she? A fucking meteorologist? She has no idea what any of this means.
She's going to drown for real this time.
The captain tells her they've found a port to head into and ride out the storm. To just get below and everything's going to be ok. She can tell he's nervous and she doesn't know how much of it has to do with the storm or the fact he's carrying the daughter of a homicidal maniac and must keep her safe at all costs.
She slips and slides her way back down below, nearly busting her ass three times as she stumbles to the galley bench. She pulls her backpack to her knees, breathing deeply through her sudden sea sickness.
She feels the engines roar as the ship suddenly lurches up and falls back down just as, like some deranged oceanic roller coaster.
That's it.
She barely makes it to the toilet when she throws her guts up.
Minutes later, she's back in her seat, wiping her face with a nasty damp rag she's found in the bathroom. She closes her eyes, working through her breathing. She squeezes her backpack, trying not to gag on the rushing saliva that she can't stop swallowing.
A deep horn bellows out as the captain backs off the throttle and the engine begins to whine down. It's probably just her imagination, or more likely desperation, but the sea suddenly doesn't feel quite as choppy. Out the window all she can see is thick sheets of grey when suddenly something large and dark comes into view. She can't quite make out what it is, but the captain easily steers past it, heading into whatever port he's found.
She can't place it, but something about it feels so…familiar.
Oh no
She rushes to the opposite side of the galley as they pass it. If she had anything left in her stomach, she'd throw it all up over the table right. On any map, nautical or otherwise, this landmass in front of her would be labeled Benson Mountain, but she knew it by its non-official title.
Mount Justice.
They're in Happy Harbor
Are you fucking kidding me?
The boat slows as it nears the dock, all hands rushing topside to meet the pier and tie it off. All but her. No matter how bad it gets, she's not getting off this fucking ship.
She's not getting off the ship.
She's not…
She's twenty and she feels so much older. Through luck, fate, or some cruel cosmic joke, she finds herself back where it all started. A stark reminder off all she's lost. The last time she was here, she was a hero. Now look at her. Every siren sends her racing into the darkness. Every sound has her looking over shoulder, every creek and she's notching her arrows. She can't keep this forever, and part of her wonders if she even should.