[quote]
[b][color=black][center][h1]One Less Evil[/h1][/center][/color]
[color=black][center][h3]Green Arrow Brings Down Slave Trading Ring[/h3][/center][/color][/b]
[center][img] http://i.imgur.com/ZdvvWGU.jpg?1[/img][/center]
[color=black][center][sub][i]Photo by H. Fyff[/i][/sub][/center][/color]
[color=black][b]BY NAOMI SINGH
February 3, 2016[/b]
[hr]
Money laundering, extortion, murder, and slavery are only some of the felonies in the Solntsevskaya Bratva’s repertoire. For years they’ve evaded the law, slipping out of the grasps of the police, FBI and Interpol, not one crime accounted for. This all changed late last night, all thanks to Star City’s own Emerald Archer.

The Bratva has run a slave trading ring out of the city for years now. Mainly focusing on children, they would steal women and minors from the streets, selling them to the highest bidder. This would be done with little to no remorse. Survivor, Jessica Warwick, said, “They gagged me from behind and carried me to their van. Every time I tried to fight back, they’d hurt me ten times worse. They took me to the city docks, the shipyards, and put me in a container. There were four other girls in there, and only a bucket between us. They all looked so hurt. So weak.”

Such mistreatment did not go unnoticed by Green Arrow. Following the rescue of eight-year old Connor Hawke, the Battling Bowman and his sidekick, Red Arrow, set their sites on the Bratva’s operation, attacking multiple sites in the Star City Docks, and apprehending the head of the dark enterprise, Alexi Leonov. Twenty-eight women and children were freed. The SCPD estimate that another ten are still being held within the city, with an indeterminable amount already sold and shipped overseas.

Detective Quentin Lance, who was present at the scenes, had this to say about the matter: “I don’t know much about Green Arrow, but I do know this: he's just getting started. When that man sets his mind on something, he won't stop 'til he sees it through. Freeing these people, that was just the beginning. He and the SCPD will do everything in their power to bring the Russian mob down. That, I can promise you.” 

The Bratva have been a constant presence in Star City, tainting its name with their horrid crimes. Could this be the beginning of their end? With Green Arrow on their tails, it just might.
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[hr]
[i][b]Iron Heights Penitentiary
10:38 PM[/b][/i]

A concrete cell was the last place Alexi Leonov expected himself to be. Dirty and bland, it was a far cry from the loft he’d resided in prior to his arrest. It was five by five feet, a steel toilet and wash basin crammed into one corner, a concrete bed in the adjacent side. Alexi sat on the slab, fidgeting with his hands. There was nothing he could do here. Nothing but wait for the inevitable; for his death.

He’d had a good thing going. He would send his men to take women and children, and he would ship them off at the docks, delivering them to his employers and earning a shitload of money in return. It was a good business, very profitable, and the buyers were very generous, often paying double the demanded amount. But they weren’t ones to be angered. No, they made it very clear that if he should fail, the consequences they dished out would be far more severe than that of the law’s. When they first told him so, he laughed in their faces. “You threaten me,” he’d said, “You threaten the Bratva.” It didn’t take him long to realise that he didn’t intimidate them. And that worried him. Fast forward a few months, and the Green Arrow, the [i]Zelenyy D’yavol[/i], had stopped some cargo from being delivered, a small boy by the name of Hawke. Alexi’s employers had contacted him instantly, demanding to know why it happened, and he’d assured them, swallowing past the lump in his throat, that it won’t happen again. One night later, the archer had dismantled his entire operation, and now he knew that nothing awaited him but death. His employers were not ones to be angered.

Alexi heard him before he saw him. He was whistling; a slow tune, ominous. It told of terrible tragedy, rife with sadness and loss, its notes empty, like one’s lost soul. His footseps echoed down the hallway, brisk and deliberate, waking any inmate who might have been asleep. When he reached Alexi he stopped, smiling, bright white teeth glinting in the low light. He was dressed in a guard’s uniform, complete with a baton, but he wasn’t one. Alexi could feel it. Spikey red hair, shaved at the sides, adorned his head, and massive tattoos of red and black swirls ran along the entirety of his neck and arms, barely leaving a clean patch of skin. He would have been a handsome man, Alexi guessed, if not for that creepy, almost sadistic smile, or the strange green device implanted in his forehead, pulling at his skin from all sides. He was no guard. He was an assassin.

“Alexi Leonov?” he said, a heavy Eastern European accent distorting his words. “Hmm. I thought you’d be more impressive.”

“Who are you?” asked Alexi. “What do you want?”

The man chuckled. “Oh, I think you know what I want. Or rather, what [i]they[/i] want.” Despite himself, Alexi paled. He was going to die. He was going to die. “You know, you’ve made them really angry, our employers. They trust you do [i]one thing[/i]– one very simple thing, I must say –and somehow, you manage to screw it all up.” 

“I-it– it wasn’t my fault! It was Green– ”

“ –Arrow, yes, they know. The fact that your operation got undone by that [i]bat with a bow[/i] is what pushed them over the edge, really. All you had to do was send them their cannon fodder. And now, you’re going to die. Any last words?”

“No! NO! PLEASE! DON’T KILL ME!”

The man’s smile was wider than the sun. “So much for dying with dignity. The Light send their regards.”

And then the green device in his head lit up, and the pain of a million knives filled Alexi’s head, he couldn’t tell which way was up, which way was down, he was off balance, the world was swirling and blurring and it felt like it was all going to end– 

And it did. 

[hr]
[i][b]Star City
8:01 AM[/b][/i]

Oliver was speeding and he knew it. At eighty miles an hour, he was already well over the fifty mile limit, but this mission was important. Screw the law, someone’s life depended on him. He was still in his business clothes; after pulling an all nighter at the office, he hadn’t had time to change when he decided to undertake this operation. His motorcycle swerved left and right as he dodged between vehicles, their drivers beeping their horns at his recklessness. They knew as well as he did that if he had an accident at this speed, he would die. Oh well. At least he had a helmet on.

“Oliver,” said Diggle, his voice transmitted through Oliver’s earpiece, “Are you sure you don’t want backup?”

Ever the concerned bodyguard, John had already asked that question well over thirty times. Oliver appreciated his disquiet, but this was serious business, and serious business gave no time for appreciation. Only action. [b][color=007236]“Yes, Digg. I have to do this alone.”[/color][/b]

“Okay, man. Be careful.” At that, the comm-link went quiet.

He arrived after five minutes of frantic driving. The house was a small one. Nice and homely, its exterior was painted a pleasant white, providing a very pleasing contrast with the bright green grass, the front lawn no larger than five yards. All in all, it looked very inviting. But Oliver knew better. For inside lay his greatest fear: responsibility.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he removed his helmet, placing it on the bike’s seat, and walked up to the house, knocking on the door three times. Within seconds it opened, revealing Sandra Hawke, looking as beautiful as ever. Upon seeing Oliver she rolled her eyes and sighed before slamming the door in his face.

He stared at it for a while. It was a pretty door. Smooth and symmetrical, made of particle board and wood veneer, it was probably handcrafted. Oh, who was he kidding, it was most likely carved by machine. No-one had an appreciation for the arts these days. It was such a shame– 

–Oh, right. The mission. He took another deep breath before knocking on the door once more. [b][color=007236]“Come on, Sandra, please. Give me a chance.”[/color][/b]

This time it took a bit longer for the door to open. When it did, it opened slowly; Sandra’s apprehension showed in more than just her face. “What do you want?”

[b][color=007236]“A chance,”[/color][/b] he said, exhaling shakily, before continuing. [b][color=007236]“What you said about me yesterday… It was right. All of it. And I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I realised that I don’t want to be a shadow in Connor’s life. I want to be a part of it. I was a…”[/color][/b] he chuckled, [b][color=007236]“I was a lousy person. Before the island, I was a really lousy person. I was with Di, but I was unfaithful. I was a cheating, pathetic excuse for a man that was more of burden on the people that loved him than he cared to admit. My affairs cost me Dinah’s love, her father’s regard and my best friend's respect. But they also gave me a son. I don’t want him to grow up without a father.”[/color][/b]

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I loved you.”

[b][color=007236]“I’m not sure that I can say the same. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really am. Sandra… I want to see Connor. Please. [i]I want to see my son.[/i]”[/color][/b]

For a long time, she just stood there, staring at him, searching for something. Then, head bowed, she stepped aside, clearing the doorway for him. “Okay.”

A grateful smile on his face, he leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek. [b][color=007236]“Thank you, Sandra.”[/color][/b] He then entered the house, about to meet Connor for the second time; but also, in a way, the first. Because this time, he wouldn’t be Green Arrow. He wouldn’t be a guardian angel. He would be Oliver Queen. He would be a father.