[sup][h1][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019b7205-4b10-7119-93b6-2c37aca13393.webp[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] G R E E N   A R R O W[/color]
[color=67a383]G R E E N   A R R O W[/color][/center]
[/b][/h1][/sup]
[sup][sub][h2][b][center][color=black]  HUNTER-KILLER[/color]
[color=darkgray] HUNTER-KILLER[/color][/center][/b][/h2][/sub][/sup][center][sub][sup][H3][color=darkgray]Part One[/color][/h3][/sup][/sub][/center]
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[color=silver][indent]
Roy finds her in the study on the swivel chair, her feet up on the desk and a book in her hands. Dinner is over and they’re stuffed on chili. The years have made hardened shells of Roy’s taste buds, but Mia isn’t quite there yet, nursing a glass of milk between each page. Her hair is in a messy bun, her clothes oversized, comfortable. He remembers the Mia of yesteryear; her sharp, suspicious eyes and sharper tongue, the caution with which she allowed herself to get to know him and Ollie and Connor. God knows she hasn’t lost her edge, but these days her vigilance has given way to comfort. 

He’s glad, seeing her like this. 

[color=eb6464]“Whatcha readin’?”[/color] he says, from the doorway.

[color=fbdf8a]“One of Connor’s scrapbooks.”[/color] She looks up from it, turning to face him. [color=fbdf8a]“Feeling nostalgic. Where’s the squirt?”[/color]

[color=eb6464]“Downstairs. Watching a movie with Ollie.”[/color]

[color=fbdf8a]“You don’t wanna join them?”[/color]

[color=eb6464]“Nah. Figured I’d give Lian some quality time with her gramps.”[/color] He walks in, leans back against the desk with a grin. [color=eb6464]“Connor’s gone for one week and you raid his stuff? Unbelievable.”[/color]

Mia swivels back around and grabs a pen from the desk. [color=fbdf8a]“He said I could read them whenever I want.”[/color] She throws the pen at him. It bounces dead center off his chest. [color=fbdf8a]“[i]Dick.[/i]”[/color]

[color=eb6464]“Sure, sure. Alright, Speedy, gimme a look.”[/color]

The scrapbook is a relic of Connor’s childhood, back when the only way for him to know his dad was through news clippings and stories. Mia sets it down on the table and Roy sees his past spread out before him. Glue and paper piece together the good old days, Green Arrow and Speedy against the world; corrupt fat cats, criminal conspiracies, adventure after swashbuckling adventure. Roy pictures Connor piecing this life together like a jigsaw, imagining it as his own; Connor, who never knew Ollie until he was an adult, who watched as another child got to grow up alongside his father. Roy and Ollie didn’t know. He feels guilty and knows he shouldn’t. They flip to the next page.

[color=fbdf8a]“Ollie never talks about this one,”[/color] says Mia. 

Roy reads the headline and feels something uncouple inside him. Cold pinpricks of memory stab through his skin, spread ice down his spine. He thought he’d made peace with it all these years later — he’s certainly been through worse since. 

But of course he hasn’t. Of course Ollie doesn’t talk about it. This was the first. The first time the good old days started showing their age.

The first crack.

[color=eb6464]“Ollie…”[/color] he sighs. [color=eb6464]“Ollie has his reasons.”[/color]

Mia’s eyes narrow. If there’s one thing she loves, it’s ignoring Ollie and his reasons. [color=fbdf8a]“Explain.”[/color]

There’s no point evading it. She’s like Ollie that way. Being stubborn is her superpower.

[color=eb6464]“Things were different then,”[/color] he says. [color=eb6464]“I was a kid, and Ollie knew it, but… everything was an adventure in those days. We didn’t take things as seriously as we should’ve. Homeless people had been going missing all over the city, and… well. Things were different then.”[/color]

He looks at the headline again: BATTLING BOWMEN BRING HUNTER-KILLER TO JUSTICE.

[color=eb6464]“It started the way it usually does, I guess.”[/color]
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[center][sup][h3][i][b]With an arrow.[/b][/i][/h3][/sup][/center]

[indent]
Sailing through the air, boxing glove-tipped carbon fiber shaft slamming into the Clock King’s masked face, pained grunt mixing into the stale wood rot air as he fell on his backside. Billy Tockman took off his mask with a shaky hand, clock face giving way to an ugly one in turn, blood-smeared and punctuated by a freshly broken nose. Earlier that morning he’d announced a timebomb hidden somewhere in Star City, challenging Green Arrow and Speedy to find it before the two hour limit ran out. Tockman was an idiot too committed to his own bit, so they found it in less than one. The city’s historical district, Oldtown, was home to Star Tower, built in the late 19th century. For a time after its construction, the tallest building in the city’s skyline was a clock. It was the first place they looked.

Speedy lowered his bow. [color=eb6464]“Always fun catchin’ up with you, Bill. It’s been a [i]minute[/i].”[/color] 

“No.”

[color=eb6464]“[i]Hour[/i] get-togethers seem like they’re getting rarer and rarer.”[/color] 

“[i]Stop it.[/i]”

[color=eb6464]“Play[i]time[/i]’s over.”[/color]

“[i]Enough.[/i] Stop. Enough,” said Tockman, muffled through a delicately cupped hand around his nose. “It’s over. For now. But not forever.”

Speedy rolled his eyes. [color=eb6464]“Oh, here we go.”[/color]

“Time is [i]always[/i] happening. Past, present and future, all at once. A sphere, not a circle. Not B-theory, but B-[i]fact[/i]. You know what that means? It means everything is preordained. Everything that will happen is happening right now. And I [i]will[/i] beat that egotistical showboating renaissance fair [i]reject[/i]. It’s destiny. It’s only a matter of time.”

[color=eb6464]“Whatever, man. You couldn’t even beat his partner. Maybe focus on that first.”[/color]

[color=67a383]“Yo, Speedy,”[/color] Green Arrow shouted from the floor below. [color=67a383]“How’re you doin’ up there?”[/color]

[color=eb6464]“All good, G.A.,”[/color] said Speedy. [color=eb6464]“You?”[/color]

[color=67a383]“Just about wrapped up. Bomb’s defused, but he did a real number on these maintenance guys.”[/color]

The aged stairs creaked in agony as the Emerald Archer joined them on the top floor. Green-clad, clean-shaven, feathered cap on his head. The room seemed to shrink with him up there, the sheer fact of his presence filling it completely. Standing side by side with him, Speedy still felt eleven years old, sometimes — awestruck in the Arizona desert heat, his Cheii introducing him to his idol, his hero; telling him that from now on, his place was with him. 

Green Arrow looked at Tockman, sprawled under the gears and wheels of the clock tower’s guts, clucking his tongue. [color=67a383]“I gotta say, Clocky. Not your best work.”[/color]

Tockman glowered. “Say the full name.”

[color=67a383]“No chance, pal. Got a question for you, though. Before we got sidetracked by your little game, we were chasing up leads on some disappearances. All homeless, from all over town. Friends of ours. Know anything about that?”[/color]

“No. Why the hell would I—”

[color=67a383]“Didn’t think so. Say, you gonna sit there nice and tight for the cops, or does Speedy have to hit you with another boxing glove arrow?”[/color]

“… No. I’ll sit.”

Green Arrow and Speedy left him there all gift-wrapped for the pigs. On their way down they checked on the maintenance workers Tockman had roughed up, scraped and bruised but just shy of a hospital visit. Below was Papp Street, once home to Star City’s oldest storefronts, now home to its newest condos. Were it not for the people living there, G.A. probably would’ve let Tockman blow them up. They’d parked the Arrowcar right outside Star Tower, a custom yellow beast of a thing, now crowded by onlookers trying to sneak a look at the action. They made way for the archers, who waved as they got in the car.

[color=67a383]“Hey,”[/color] Green Arrow said, sitting on the passenger side, [color=67a383]“Great job up there, kiddo.”[/color]

[color=eb6464]“Thanks,”[/color] said Speedy, eleven years old again. [color=eb6464]“Where to now?”[/color]

[color=67a383]“Plesa Park. The Blumebury shelter’s a dead end, they haven’t seen Joe there for weeks. I want to talk to his friends again, see if they forgot anything the first time.”[/color]

Speedy keyed the ignition. The Arrowcar roared to life, a fifteen-hundred horsepower cacophony startling the crowd outside. Clock King had been a distraction. Star City’s homeless were going missing, and their friend Joe was the latest. They had no leads. There was no investigation besides their own. Speedy pulled away from the curb, driving towards Plesa Park.
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