"Always be the predator, never the prey!"-Paul 'The Machine' Janson, Con Ops.
"What's wrong?" Sarah asked. She was adjusting a Kevlar vest snugly around her torso.
"I don't know." Oliver said slowly. He couldn't place exactly what was eating him. "You know that sense that you missed something?"
"Do you think we're burned?" Sara questioned, checking a Springfield XD. The bunker was empty. The team was gone, left for safer places, respecting their wishes. The gear was still there-Sara didn't know whether to be impressed or appalled at whoever was stupid enough to buy the MP5 submachine guns on the racks. Those were a minimum 10 years in prison each, if the wrong people found the place.
"How exactly has he been one step ahead of me so well." Oliver wondered. It wasn't a question. "I've been careful about tails since I started this. We sweep for bugs here daily, run jamming devices… He's not a psychologist. He's smart, but not omniscient. He could hire people to track me, but I've been paranoid about that since I came back…"
"He knew who you were. Bugs in your office at city hall." Sara guessed.
"What if we're walking into something?" Oliver said.
"Maybe we are… but we don't really have a choice, do we? We're running down a steep hill. We're past the point of trying to stop." Sara said. "The longer we hesitate, the greater the danger."
"The deep breath, I know." Oliver said. He had his equipment packed in a bag. They had mapped out their routes, checked for cameras that could spot them, examined their Kevlar vests. Oliver pulled the slide back slightly on his backup, an H&K USP .40 with a bright green laser attachment. He didn't really like handguns. Didn't mean he couldn't use one well.
"You know, I read your ex escaped from prison. Helena." Sara remarked. Oliver was a little impressed that she said it without malice.
"How'd she pull it off?" Oliver asked.
"Article said the prison authorities refused to say. But she vanished, still on the run after two weeks. Probably gone for good." Sara said.
"Good for her." Oliver mused. "Hopefully the papers aren't saying the same about us anytime soon."
The old campaign headquarters were poorly lit, and the parking lot was nearly pitch black as well, one lonely light doing its best to illuminate the area, but failing badly. Oliver hit the beeper and the black mustang's lights came on, like a ghost becoming visible. Their footfalls were quiet on the pavement, Oliver heading for the trunk just ahead of Sara. He slipped the key into the lock and then—
"DON'T MOVE DON'T MOVE FBI!" Oliver flinched, raising his hands, blinding strobe lights catching him off guard. "SARA LANCE! DO NOT MOVE OR WE WILL SHOOT YOU!"
"What is this?!" Oliver demanded. The light moved away from his face, and now he could make out 'FBI' on their jackets, blinking rapidly to try to make the bright spots fade.
"DO NOT MOVE!" One agent shouted at him.
"GET ON YOUR KNEES!" An agent with a rifle aimed at Sara was shouting. She looked at Oliver pleadingly. They hadn't anticipated this. They didn't know what the FBI might have, or how Adrian could have caused it, or if these were even real FBI agents or just clever cartel operatives. Sara slowly lowered herself to her knees, keeping her hands high.
"KEEP YOUR HANDS HIGH!" The agent with the rifle yelled. "NOW CRAWL TOWARDS ME! DO NOT LOWER YOUR HANDS OR YOU WILL BE SHOT!" The agent with the rifle on Sara was maybe fifteen feet from Sara, with another agent standing by him. The third agent had started walking towards Oliver, his glock raised. Oliver could see what he was about to do, visualize it, the sequence. To not was unthinkable. He wasn't about to watch Sara bleed out on the pavement. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through him, giving him strength.
Oliver smoothly lunged forwards at the agent, sidestepping away from the gun and grabbing it with both hands, jerking the glock the wrong way in the agent's hand, breaking fingers, before ripping it out of the agent's hand and then grabbing and spinning the man around just as a heavy burst of rifle fire tore into the agent's chest. The rifleman froze in shock, just as Sara's baton collided with his temple, sending him crashing to the ground. The third agent hesitated, unsure of which target to fire on, and Oliver shot her twice in the center chest, her Kevlar vest easily stopping the handgun rounds. She fell, gasping, and Sara kicked her Glock away, then frisked her, coming up with a badge and ID.
"Agent Samandra Watson of the FBI." Sara read. "Who sent you?"
"You've just made a huge mistake!" Watson gasped, holding her chest. "Murder of a federal officer…"
"Maybe your friend shouldn't have shot him then." Oliver said angrily, checking the pulse of his human shield. The rifle rounds had cut through his chest armor easily, but didn't have enough power to exit the back of the man. "Why are you here?"
"To arrest Sara Lance for multiple homicides!" Watson said furiously. "You're both going to be facing death row for this!"
"Where's your backup?" Sara demanded, crouched, looking around, anticipating more forces. She frisked the dead agent, not finding anything. "How many of you are there?" They probably had minutes at most before police arrived.
"Where's the other team?!" Oliver roared. Watson shook her head.
"You don't have backup." Sara realized slowly. "You three are here alone. Did you even secure a warrant?"
"No, she didn't." A garbled voice said behind them. All three turned to look. The figure walking idly towards them was clad in black and almost invisible in the night, but the two could make out the visored mask covering his face, and suppressed 9mm Glock in his hand. Oliver's fists clenched, and he almost took a shot at the man—but Vigilante was aiming and Oliver's weapon was on Samandra. The killer wisely kept his distance, staying too far to disarm.
"You here to kill me?"
"No." Vigilante said flatly. "I came because of them. They were sent information that she was a former assassin… from there, it was such an interesting research project. She was the Canary, wasn't she? And you were… are… the Arrow. Or Green Arrow, or whatever you call yourself now."
"All three pyschos in one place, working together." Watson said bitterly. "Team of the year." Vigilante casually raised his handgun, and with practiced ease fired one round into Waton's forehead and another into the rifleman Sara had knocked out.
"They were federal agents!" Oliver yelled.
"Yes. And you should thank God she went off on a glory project with two friends, instead of proper channels." Vigilante snapped. He carefully stepped a few paces to the right, crouching to retrieve the shell casings. "If you hadn't gone for the disarm, your girl here would be dead. And if Watson ever spoke to her superiors, you two would be on death row, assuming they didn't kill you on sight. You realize that they would charge you with your shield's death a few moments ago? She wasn't lying, you fool!"
"Why are you here?" Sara asked. Vigilante regarded her coldly.
"We might disagree on things. But we can all agree… the other archer needs to die." Vigilante said. "He's not just going after scum. He's a rabid dog that attacks anything. Dirty cops, good cops, random victims…" He looked at Oliver. "I already went up against him once… he's formidable. You've fought him, you fight like him. Together… the chances of success goes up. A one time alliance."
"He's a rabid dog? And what are you?" Sara said. She held the baton loosely but firmly. Oliver knew she could draw her sidearm fast, but not before Vigilante shifted his sidearm the few needed inches. "You just murdered two of the good guys."
"Do you think she would have felt any guilt standing over your corpse as your bow loving boyfriend was shoved in an unmarked car?" Vigilante laughed. He mimicked a pose of someone speaking formally. " 'The vigilante known as the Green Arrow has been arrested and is facing the death penalty. Unfortunately officer safety was threatened and his accomplice, Sara Lance died on the scene. An internal review will be performed and in two weeks we will declare the shooting was justified.' " He shook his head. "I just saved your lives. Because neither of you would have had the stomach to do what needed to be done."
"We're willing to work with you. Adrian Chase in the DA's office is Prometheus, the throwing star killer." Oliver said rapidly, before Sara spoke. "We already packed our gear and we're going after him tonight. Lethal force only."
"Color me surprised." Vigilante said. "Maybe you two do have spines."
"And them?" Sara said, looking at the corpses.
"They have a vehicle nearby, a Honda minivan." Vigilante said. He holstered his weapon. "Watson probably has the key. Don't approach the vehicle… might have a camera in it." He strode past the two, checked through Waton's pockets and found it.
"You two head out of here. Turn right out of the parking lot, not left. I'll take care of the bodies—the vehicle might be lowjacked, so I'll have to drive around before dumping it. A few bullets in the windshield and windows will throw the investigators off… but they'll know they were moved posthumously."
"Meet us at 700 Park Regency." Oliver said. "Sara… let's go."