Chapter 81: Be All My Sins Remembered
"So we still have no idea why Chase — or his employer, whoever that is — wants Merlyn?"
"None," Black Canary confirmed on her comm, hanging on tightly to Green Arrow's back as they rode on his motorcycle to the designated location. A little ahead of them, running at blistering cheetah speed, was Vixen. "Intel suggests Chase was hired to kidnap Malcolm, so even if we do capture him—"
"It's possible he might not even know his employer's real name. Nor would it stop the employer from hiring someone else to get Merlyn if we manage to recapture him," Vixen groaned over the comm, the wind rushing behind her as background noise. "What a mess."
"The life of a sanctioned vigilante," Canary commiserated, while settling a concerned glance on her partner.
Green Arrow had been entirely silent throughout the entire trip, outside of a quick planning session for the mission. The entire Justice League knew why; while no one knew the full details outside of Arrow, Flash, Supergirl, and Waller, they knew enough about the situation to keep their mouths shut about it around the archer. It was obvious the man wouldn't be able to settle down until Merlyn was back behind bars.
Canary wanted to comfort him. To let him rest. Malcolm Merlyn had already taken enough away from the Green Arrow, from Oliver Queen. There was no need for him to take anymore. But at the same time, she recognized that he could never stand by the sidelines when the man who had been holding his family hostage for years, the man who had ruined his life, was out there, not facing the justice he so richly deserved. She knew, because she would feel the same in his shoes.
So all she could do was offer her support. Both on the battlefield, and off it. And hopefully, that alone would be enough.
"I'm almost there," Vixen informed them a few minutes later. "Buckle up; it's show time."
"Sir! Our scouts have reported an incoming assailant; preliminary reports suggest it's Vixen of the Justice League!"
"Oh?" Adrian Chase, aka Prometheus, turned to his subordinate with a wide grin on his face. They're here a little sooner than I thought they'd be. Eh, no matter — the plan's still on no matter what happens.
He scanned his hideout. He had many men with him, all well-trained, disciplined, ready to beckon at his command. But no amount of training would allow them to win against a meta of Vixen's caliber, let alone with the backup of Green Arrow and, presumably, Black Canary. Chances are they would all be defeated and captured. It was a good thing he had made sure they weren't aware of the inner workings of the plan. Internally, he shrugged, and outwardly signaled his men to prepare for battle.
Good men or not, they were all expendable in the end.
Vixen didn't hesitate; after dodging the initial spray of fire, she crashed through the gates like a cannonball and started cleaning houses. Scores of men charged at her, only to be knocked and slammed away with the strength of the gorilla. It was downright pitiful to see.
The only problem was that there were so many of them. It's not like they were a danger to her, but the numbers would still pin her down for quite some time. Knowing that, Green Arrow and Black Canary didn't bother to stop and help her — if they wanted to find Merlyn before Chase absconded him to who knows where, they'd have to scour the base by themselves. Vixen could handle this by herself.
The motorcycle was the second crash of the day, opening a nice hole for its two riders to enter through. Exchanging a look, Green Arrow and Black Canary separated, splitting up to search the base faster. If Merlyn wasn't here, then hopefully Prometheus was, and he could lead them to Merlyn himself.
Arrow kept his steps silent as he searched room after room. Nothing; they were all living quarters and store rooms, no doubt for Chase's men and whatever operation they were now on. Hopefully it still involved Merlyn, though Green Arrow thought that was incredibly unlikely. He resisted the urge to gnash his teeth together at the thought of it; why couldn't it be over already? Why couldn't Merlyn just make it to his trial so someone could throw the book at him? Why wouldn't the world just allow him to forget the man who had taken everything away from him?
"Someone seems cran~ky," a sing-song voice invaded his ears. Green Arrow whipped around to spot Chase, in his Prometheus get up, waving at him. Then without warning, he ran off in the other direction, forcing Arrow to chase after him.
Prometheus led him up the stairs to the upper part of the hideout. Unlike the lower floor, this one had no rooms — just a large, open space with concrete flooring.
The perfect place for a duel.
Green Arrow felt something curl in his chest. The memory of Chase using his name — his League name — echoed in his mind. He had a feeling that there was something more personal to this, something dangerous. Prometheus had admitted as much the first time they'd met. But if Prometheus was leading him here, a place where they could fight uninterrupted, then the depth of that grudge must be much deeper than he'd thought.
"Isn't it nice?" Prometheus asked, ripping off his mask to reveal Chase's chiseled face. There was a look in his eye, dark and foreboding, that deeply contrasted his words. Green Arrow recognized it instantly as pure, unadulterated hatred, tinged with madness. He felt the need to be even more on-guard than he already was. This man, whoever he was, was dangerous.
"Why don't you take off the headdress, Ollie?" And Green Arrow felt his insides freeze, as Chase continued, a smirk playing on his lips, "I want to do this face to face, man to man. It's been a long time coming, you know."
Green Arrow narrowed his eye, before shooting an EMP arrow to the wall. It immediately emitted a pulse that shorted out all electrical devices in the room, sans his comm. Content that his secret identity was safe, Arrow finally obliged his enemy, taking down his hood, followed by his cloth mask. Oliver Queen's eyes met Adrian Chase's in a fierce glare, as the two men began to circle each other, just waiting for the battle to begin.
"Who are you?" Oliver demanded roughly through his gritting teeth.
"I told you, one of your many victims. Those from your time with the League."
Oliver almost snorted. "If you were one of mine from the League, then you wouldn't be here right now." He and both his siblings had perfect kill records. It wasn't necessarily something they were proud of, but they still strove for it because it meant they got to keep their heads on their shoulders. Eight years in Nanda Parbat had more than once shown that Ra's al Ghul had little mercy for any assassin with faults, let alone those that were supposed to be his elite.
Chase grinned sadistically. "Oh, really? How cold of you, Ollie. Do you really believe the only victims you had were the ones you killed?"
The archer clicked his teeth, the pieces suddenly following into place. I see. "You're a relative of one of my targets. Judging by your age, I assume I took a father or a brother away from you."
"Bravo! You figured it out. But I'm not just the son of one of your targets — I'm the son of your first target."
With that, Chase charged, sword in hand. Oliver ducked, rolling under his first swing to exchange his bow for his own blade, hidden snuggly behind his quiver. The clash of metal echoed throughout the empty room as the two men began their deadly dance. Almost intuitively, they could sense where their battle would lead. One of them would not be leaving alive.
"My first target?" Oliver wracked his brain for the name, even as he continued to exchange blows with Chase.
"Justin Claybourne," Chase confirmed for him, before dropping down unexpectedly to sweep Oliver off his feet. Oliver stumbled and fell to his back, blocking a downward slash along the way. This wouldn't do — he needed to focus.
But focus did not come, not with that name churning in his mind. Now that Chase had said it, the memories came rushing back. Justin Claybourne. A corrupt pharmaceuticals CEO from Lamb Valley who had unleashed an outbreak of tuberculosis on the poor residents to make a profit off of them. While there some targets that had made him resent being a member of the League of Assassins, Justin Claybourne had certainly not been one of them. Still, that didn't change the fact that he had been the father of the man he was facing right now, and Oliver felt a little guilt bloom in his heart that he soon pushed away. It would do him no good now.
No, all he could do now was… "Do you expect me to regret it? I remember your father as a dirt bag who took advantage of the weak. Who was planning to weaponize tuberculosis and use it to turn a profit. The world was better off without him."
Chase smiled sardonically, and disarmed him. The advantage didn't last long; Oliver had grabbed his wrist and returned the favor easily enough, and within seconds the two combatants had transitioned their battle into hand-to-hand combat. The conversation continued.
"He may have been a dirt bag, but he was still my father," Chase hissed out, and Oliver could see the madness in the man begin to envelop him further, "Let me ask you something: how many children did you orphan, how many spouses did you widow, all for the sake of that sanctimonious old man and his band of murderers and their holier-than-thou code?" He punctuated that statement with a kick to the side.
It would be his last mistake.
Oliver caught his leg with disturbing ease, twisting and flipping Chase forward so he could land face first onto the ground. The younger man yelped, then growled as he jumped to his feet. Before he could continue his attack, however, Oliver quickly followed up with his own kick to the chest and a series of punches that were leaving the other man reeling. Finally, the assault ended with a harsh stomp to one of Chase's kneecaps, causing the man to drop down in pain.
"More than I dare to count," Oliver admitted, glaring. "But that's something I'll answer for one day, on my own. No matter what I've done, it doesn't excuse any of the harm you've caused in this thankless pursuit of revenge."
Adrian Chase looked up at him hatefully. Oliver Queen was unmoved.
"I'm not going to kill you, Adrian. You have information we need," Oliver took out the handcuffs just to punctuate that.
Adrian looked at the cuffs, and laughed.
"We're ten steps ahead," he said insipidly, eyes making contact with his hated foe, "And you don't even know what game we're playing yet!"
He clicked his teeth and let the cyanide flood his mouth.
"Vixen!"
"Canary," Vixen acknowledged her teammate, finishing off her last opponent with a quick chop to the neck. "Did you find Merlyn?"
Black Canary shook her head.
Vixen cursed. "Hopefully Green Arrow had better luck."
"I didn't."
The two women turned to see Arrow stomping towards them, dragging a body behind him. He threw the body in front of them, and both winced when they saw that it was a clearly dead Chase.
"He killed himself with cyanide before I could restrain him," Arrow explained, and one could feel the scowl on his face. "And my half of the base didn't contain Merlyn either. More than likely, he was a patsy, or perhaps did capture Merlyn but passed him on to a benefactor. With no computers or documentation, there's no way to say."
"Regardless, Merlyn's not here," Vixen concluded.
"He's probably not even stateside anymore," Canary sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand for good measure.
"Either way, we still need to find him," Arrow said grimly. "Call in A.R.G.U.S. and have them collect the men here, along with Chase's body. While I doubt Chase told them anything, maybe interrogation can still get something useful out of them. Or perhaps Chase's autopsy will find something. Until then, we'll just have to keep searching ourselves."
A night later, deep in her mountain fortress, Talia al Ghul sat in front of a fire place, a glass goblet of wine resting within her fingertips. Her eyes were on the fire, but her mind was elsewhere, contemplating recent events. Thus far, everything was going to plan. Thanks to Rochev, Tommy Merlyn was now in her clutches and it would only be a matter of time before Al Sa-Her finally caved and gave her what she wanted. And once she had its location, she could finally take what was rightfully hers.
Resentment swelled within her, bubbling deeply inside her heart. It shouldn't have to be like this. She shouldn't have to do any of this. Her birthright was her birthright and why hadn't her father seen that? She may not be the only daughter of Ra's al Ghul but she was the firstborn and that should've been enough. But because of her supposed arrogance and entitlement, she had been passed over for that insipid little sister of hers. She was only acting like her father, according her station, and yet he had scorned her the moment members of the League spoke out against her actions. The moment Nyssa decided she was no longer worthy of her adoration.
Why was Nyssa favored and not her? Since she had not been born a man, she had always been a disappointment to their father. Yet, when her sister had committed the same sin, their father lavished so much attention towards her, the closest thing to affection he was capable of. Even now, long after Nyssa had shown weakness by befriending those freaks, Ra's had not rebuked her. Talia knew that if she had done the same, she would've been immediately disinherited.
It isn't fair, she hissed in her mind, anger swirling. She would take great joy in eviscerating Nyssa when they finally saw each other again. She'd make it slow, so her sister would have time to lament ever defying her, ever daring to take what had belonged to her.
A knock on the door interrupted her dark thoughts. "Come," she ordered, and the oak wood slowly opened to reveal one of her sentries. A messenger.
The sentry fell to one knee and bowed his head. "Prometheus is dead, my lady."
Talia frowned. Prometheus had been her finest and most loyal student. Granted, he was a bit too twisted even for her tastes, but still a valuable asset. He had been every bit devoted to the plan as she was. His loss was regrettable, but ultimately meaningless in the long run. He would've been a fine warrior to have when the final battle arrived, but they could make do without him. He had fulfilled his most important and essential service in delivering Al Sa-Her to them.
"How unfortunate. His death will not be in vain." Talia twirled the goblet in her hand. "Is there any other news?"
"Yes, my lady." The sentry stood up, and handed her a scroll.
Her frown deepened, and she unrolled the scroll, using the fire to reveal the ghost ink. She allowed her eyes to run over the message, gradually becoming more and more visibly displeased, to the sentry's discomfort. After she was finished reading it, she placed the scroll onto the table in front of her, and took a long breath.
"A change of plans is needed. Send Ubu to me."
The sentry complied, fleeing the room post-haste. Despite herself, Talia couldn't help but let a smirk quirk her lips. It gladdened her that she could still inspire such fear into her subordinates. It would do her well when the plan was finished.
After ten or so minutes, Ubu finally arrived. He had been a recruit of her father's that she had happened upon, near death. A tall, muscular and heavyset man, she had managed to convince him to turn to her side, helping him fake his death to join the League of Shadows. Since then, he had served as a faithful lieutenant and teacher for her, drilling many students in the basics of combat and assassination.
Ubu crossed his arms and looked at her silently. He was not like the sentry. He might be deferential, but he still deserved his own level of respect.
"There is a task I have for one of your pupils. Tell me - of your students, who is the most…discreet?"
Hey everyone! It's been a while. I've been busy with One Day at a Time (and if you're a Batman fan, especially a Jason Todd fan, I highly recommend it!), but I've hit a bit of a rut in regards to that so I thought I might finish a few chapters for this story. Just in case you all thought I abandoned it, but rest assured, I haven't. I will finish this story one day, I promise you.
Now, quick clarification: I'm not doing Crisis. I wasn't satisfied by it and honestly I have other plans, so I'm not doing it. Most of this story will be limited to the first five years of the Arrowverse (Arrow Seasons 1-5, and the corresponding seasons for Flash and Supergirl) anyway, so it doesn't matter much in the long run.
That's it for now! Please comment or review, flames will be ignored, constructive criticism welcome, and don't forget to update the TV Tropes page!