Chapter 139: Investigations

Oliver hated paperwork.

Hated it, hated it, hated it. Oh, he could do it, he was too disciplined not to, but that didn't stop him from hating it. It was the bane of his existence, his very anathema. He did it when he had to, but also wasn't afraid to foist off as much as he could to others.

The reality was, Oliver wasn't made for a desk job. Maybe he could've been had it not been for the island and the League, but that ship (both figuratively and literally) had sailed a long time ago. He was a man of action, he liked getting his hands dirty. He liked, well, doing stuff, even if that stuff was things like networking or attending presentations or whatever. It made him feel like he was making actual progress to whatever goals he had and not, you know, giving permission to people to do the things he wanted to do and hoped they actually did it. Delegation was simply not his strong suit.

It was different in the field, where all his teammates could do stuff that he couldn't and could never hope to do. His sister could fly and had super strength, his brother was fast and a certifiable genius, and even his girlfriend had more firepower in her scream than he did with his simple bow and arrows. That made them capable of doing things that a normal person would think as impossible. It was easy for Oliver to distance himself from that and accept it. Not so easy for a regular job, where Oliver knew he could most of what anyone else on his payroll could do. And anything he couldn't, he could do with enough training. That made delegating a lot harder to accept.

That's one of the reasons why he didn't want to be CEO. Being CEO was all about delegation, because there would be too much work for them to do otherwise. The CEO was in charge of the big decisions, the things that could affect the company as a whole, not just one division or even just one project. And Oliver, as much as he didn't want his family's company fail, simply didn't like having that kind of weight on his shoulders. Not when he already had the rest of the world sitting there.

It was going to be hard. He didn't want to do it. But his parents — well, they made it all too clear that he had to.

As Oliver ruminated over this with no small amount of resentment, the lights of his office suddenly shut off. When they were turned back on, he was already standing up, his chair kicked away for more space to fight and the knife he had hidden beneath his desk in hand. Even when noticing that there was only one Assassin in the office, he refused to lower his guard.

The Assassin removed her headdress to reveal herself as the woman (formerly) known as Helena Bertinelli. Oliver narrowed his eyes at her appearance, and spoke. "The skies pour and the earth trembles," he said, speaking in Arabic.

"And yet the arrow still flies true, never straying from the target," Helena replied, also in Arabic.

Oliver found himself relaxing as the passphrase was finished. He loosened his guard, lowered his weapon, but it did not let it go. "Walesyadh," Oliver spoke, using the woman's League name, "you have news of the attack on myself and Ta-er Al-Safer?"

"I do. Our recent intelligence has just confirmed your suspicions — the League of Shadows was responsible, and is under the leadership of another. Who that is, however, remains unknown. We do not believe they know you are Green Arrow and Black Canary, as they would've known better than to try the same ploy Talia did if they had, so their reasons for attacking you in your civilian personas are still unclear. Ra's has instructed members of the League to continue observing the situation and see if we can find the identity of this new player."

"I see. Will Ra's keep us informed?"

Helena nodded.

"Very well." Then, Oliver hesitated. "Helena," he spoke again, this time in English.

The woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Before you leave, could you tell me how Nyssa is doing? It's been a few months since Laurel and I last saw her, and she didn't come to visit when we moved into the new apartment." Went unsaid is why they wanted Nyssa to be there. While Oliver had no doubt that rumors of her relationship with them had already spread throughout the League, he knew better than to outright confirm it. Things had gotten better, yes, but he wasn't fool enough to believe that the institution was that open-minded.

The Assassin stiffened before quickly recomposing herself. Not that Oliver failed to notice. Helena was good, far better and more in control of herself than the amateur hitwoman Kara and him had stopped all those years ago. But Oliver had been doing this for far longer than her, starting at a much younger age. It would be a long time before Helena would be able to hide anything from him.

"Nyssa is fine," she said calmly, so sincerely that Oliver almost believed her. "She is just busy with a very important mission. Once it is over, she will see you and Laurel — that, I can promise you."

Oliver eyed her speculatively before nodding. It wasn't the entire truth, that much he could tell, but it was the truth, and it was clear he wasn't going to get any more out of her. If the mission was truly important, then Ra's probably would've instituted some kind of gag order, and laws of succession or not, Oliver was no longer a part of the League. There was nothing left to do but let it lie for now, and wait for Nyssa to come back and explain when she had the time.

With that final affirmation, Helena did a short bow, before straightening up. The lights flashed again, and she was gone.


Ralph Dibny sighed as he flopped onto the couch of his new and dirty office. It was the hub of his new private investigative service, which consisted solely of himself and no one else. It's not like he had the money to hire anyone else, after all.

To say things had been difficult ever since his biggest secret got blown to high hell would be a massive understatement. His life, for all intents and purposes, had completely fallen apart. All his friends (who had also been his fellow officers) had shunned him for the time being, he had gotten fired from his job (with no pension!) and his finances were now in the rut thanks to all those ridiculous fines. He was in the process of selling his house and moving into a much cheaper apartment to help pay them off, in addition to renting out this office for his new career.

A career he had barely gotten licensed for. There was no way he would've passed the background check had he not called in that favor with Mayor Bellows. He probably could've gotten more money in the short-term if he had used those photos of Bellows' little affair for blackmail, but he was already enough hot water as it was. Something like that could land him in jail. It was much safer just to use Bellows to ensure he passed the background check and the PI exam so that way he had steady employment again (for a given definition of 'steady'). To say nothing about all those hushed up, unsavory rumors about the mayor that Ralph really didn't want to get into.

It sucked. This sucked. Everything sucked. It might seem like his life still had a future, but the reality is that his life was over. He was going to be stuck doing nothing but spying on cheating spouses for the rest of his life. And the worst part, the part Ralph hated to admit, is that Iris was right. He only had himself to blame for his fate.

Ring!

Ralph groaned at the interruption of his latest bout of self-pity. It was the office phone. He desperately wanted to ignore it, but unfortunately he wasn't swimming in cash any more. Not like he was before, but he certainly was a lot less financially stable than he used to be. Like it or not, he had to take any case he could get.

So, with an ocean of reluctance, Ralph got up from the couch and trudged up to the phone. He could've stretched his arm to take it, but the last time he tried that he accidentally pulled the cord out of the wall and it had been a pain to fix it. Better to do it the old-fashioned way.

He picked up the receiver, plastering a fake smile as he did so. Fake it until you make it, right? "Hello, Dibny Private Investigative Service. How may I help you?"

"Is this Ralph Dibny speaking?" A garbled voice asked. Ralph thought it sounded male, but he couldn't be too sure.

"Yes, sir. I am Ralph Dibny."

"Okay, okay, good. Well… I have a case for you."

"Very well. Let me just get your name and num—"

"Sorry. But this needs to be anonymous."

Ralph frowned. "Look, sir or ma'am—"

"Sir."

"Right, sir. I can't exactly take on a case without your contact information and valid ID. I need to make sure you pay me, and that I'm not stepping on any toes—"

The caller said a number. Ralph's eyes bugged out.

"Okay, so maybe it's not all cut and dry. First, before I agree to anything, what kind of case do you want me to investigate?"

"A suspected murder."

"Wouldn't it be better to go to the CCPD then?"

"No. The KCPD already closed the case, claimed it was just a simple housefire gone wrong. They're not gonna reopen it again, not something this high-profile."

A high-profile suspected murder case in Keystone? One that was closed as an accidental fire at the house? But the only case that fit that criteria was— "You wan't me to investigate the deaths of the Thawnes?"

"Yes."

No. Absolutely not. Ralph should just hang up right now. All his instincts were screaming at him to, because the entire thing was suspicious as hell. To say nothing of the conflict of interest, with Eddie being his former coworker and friend. There was no way Ralph should take this case, the potential consequences weren't worth it.

But. The money.

Ralph needed that money, like it or not. It's unlikely he was going to last long if he didn't have it. And — well, the case was about Eddie's parents. Dicks, yeah, but Eddie was his friend, might still be his friend if Ralph ever got around to mending bridges with him in a few years. If their deaths were really murders instead of an accident, then Eddie needed to know. He deserved the closure, if nothing else. Maybe it wouldn't make up for what he did, but at least it would be a start, and that's all Ralph needed for now.

(And, well, this was all as shady as fuck. If this anonymous client really was up to no good, then Ralph could just hand him over to the CCPD so he wouldn't get away with whatever the hell he'd done.)

"Fine," Ralph finally said, inhaling deeply. "First, what are the terms?"


"Burgers," Kara moaned as she took another bite of the greasy goodness, "how I love you so."

Sam tilted her head. "You know, I was a bit skeptical of adding fried egg to a burger, but now…"

"I know, right?" Her best friend sighed. "The wonderful, ever-evolving nature of food."

The two women polished off their burgers for the next fifteen minutes. After they were done, they picked up all the waste and threw it in the trash, before heading over to where they had set their picnic blanket, under a large tree. They sat themselves under the shade and leaned against the trunk, watching as everyone else visiting the park today walked about.

"Kara, seriously," Sam said, leaning against her friend's shoulder, "where do you put it all? You ate five of those today."

Kara shrugged. "Good workout routine?" she suggested, and it was more-or-less true. "Besides, you're not one to talk. You managed three yourself."

Sam flushed, guilty as charged. "I don't know. I just feel more… ravenous, I guess? It's been like that for a while now." Even more so since finding the crystal, but it's not like she was going to acknowledge it. Or say anything about it at all, for that matter.

"Right…" Kara hesitated for a moment, before speaking. "Is it because of the Patricia stuff? I heard people stress eat when they're…" Her voice trailed away as Sam's expression closed off.

"No, it's not because of Patricia."

Kara winced. "I'm so sorry, Sam," she blurted out. "I'm just—"

"—worried?" Sam finished for her. "Yeah, I get that Kara. I'm not mad. It's just… hard, you know?"

"Yeah," Kara said, thinking of her own losses over the years, "I know."

"I… I just have so many knotted up, complicated feelings about her, and our relationship, and I just don't know how to deal with that. I'm considering therapy, but I'm not sure if I have room in my schedule for it."

"Well, you should do what's best for you. And for Ruby. If ther—"

Before Kara could finish whatever words she wanted to say, she was cut off by a chorus of gunshots and the sound and smell of burning rubber. Both women gasped as a large, armored truck appeared, swerving across the greenery and leaving dark tracks in its wake. People screamed as they ran away from it, trying to avoid getting hit, while others only stepped far enough away to avoid its path while keeping an eye on a vehicle.

Kara and Sam quickly got up from their spot under the tree, only stopping long enough to pick up their bags. They tried to run away from the scene, holding each other's hands like they were lifelines, but were stopped in their tracks as the truck upended and crashed on its side, skidding near where they were trying to run.

For a moment, it seemed like everyone in the park froze as the truck finally stopped its rough slide. Then, the screams and movement began again as the back doors were kicked open and several armed gunmen crawled out. They shouted and screamed at the pedestrians, waving their guns about and demanding everyone keep away. That did nothing to stop the panic, nor the many still frozen in fear, cowering in imaginative hiding spots in hopes it would spare them whatever pain might come.

Sam was one of those motionless many, too overcome with terror to truly move. Kara was just about ready to blow her cover and use her super strength to drag her away, when one of the gunmen got a bit trigger happy and started firing in their direction. Acting on instinct, the Kryptonian slammed into her best friend, pushing her away to avoid being hit by the bullets.

They fell to the ground in a heap. Being knocked down like that seemed to break Sam out of whatever trance she was in. She blinked, glancing up at Kara, who was covering her. "Kara—"

"Stay down," Kara told her, cutting her off. "Just stay down, okay?"

As much as she could from her position, Sam nodded.

Just then the sound of a motorcycle broke the chaos. People let out a cheer as they saw who it was: the Black Canary. She sped forward on her motorcycle, letting out one of her famous Canary Cries at the man that had been shooting. He was knocked down from where he was standing, the gun in his hands shattering into pieces. Another of his compatriots tried to shoot her, only to be knocked out by a well-timed throwing baton to the head.

It wasn't long before Black Canary had them all taken down and trussed up for the police. She took the guns and piled them next to the criminals, then began walking around, helping the civilians up, and comforting them. Many thanks and well-wishes were thrown her way, along with a few requests for autographs.

Kara got up from her position, and then pulled Sam to her feet. "You alright?" she asked softly.

Sam nodded distantly. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah. I—Thank you, Kara. I'm sorry froze like that, I was just—"

Her best friend held up a hand, silencing her. "It's alright, Sam. I get it. It was your first time you were in a life-or-death situation. Reactions like that are common."

"Right." Sam looked around. "What now?"

"We wait for the police and the EMTs. Let them check us over and give our statements. Then we can leave."


It was two, almost three hours before the police let them go. While they were waiting for the okay, Kara and Sam debated the merits of taking the kids out of school early or telling them while they were still attending classes. Since things had turned out fine in the end, they decided they would just let the kids have an uninterrupted school day for now and tell them when Kara picked them up later. Ruby was supposed to stay with Kal and her for tonight while Sam dealt with some late-night, overseas meetings. Now she was debating whether or not to go through with the meetings or to reschedule them.

They decided they'd let the kids decide. Kara dropped off Sam at her house before heading over to Balliol Prep, while Sam cleaned the place up and called her secretary to put out a warning to her colleagues and associates that she might not be able to make the meeting tonight. She would give her secretary the full truth, of course, but cited her to inform everyone else that she simply had personal business to deal with. It was the truth, anyway.

Sam let out a breath of relief when she finally entered her home. She made a direct beeline for the living room, setting down her bag on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, letting her sink into the cushions for a bit. Sweet, sweet relief. She knew she had to call her secretary soon, but… well, she needed a moment. The last few hours had been stressful.

Klink!

"Huh?" Sam blinked, looking around. She felt something against the edge of her shoe, and glanced down.

It was a metal disc of some sort. Almost like a coin, except different. Sam reached down, picking up the strange item, and observed it closely. Upon a second look, she realized it wasn't a coin at all. In fact, it almost looked like—

She nearly dropped it.

A flattened bullet, she thought in horror. Sam glanced all over herself and her bag, trying to find where it came from, until she saw it. A hole in her blouse, almost near her back, close to where her belt and pants were. Hands shaking, she stretched the fabric, showing the hole in full, and the smooth, unmarred skin beneath.

Shot.

She had been shot.

And she hadn't felt a thing.


It's building and building! Just wait everyone. There's going to be a lot happening this act. You're going to love it!

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