Member
Dion
An Outsider
Lord Wraith
The Glades, Star City.
The sun is hiding.
“Okay, so, again… just to be absolutely clear… why don’t we have a bodyguard with us?” asked Tommy Merlyn, glancing around nervously as they crossed into the Glades.
“Mr. Diggle’s with Thea right now,” said Oliver. His blue eyes surveyed their surroundings with a coolness that was absent from Tommy’s, taking in the ruins as if the sight of them didn’t make his blood boil – as if he could keep it temperate, and cold, and control his emotions. His scarred knuckles were white, hidden away within his green sweatshirt’s pockets.
“Right, right. And you have no one else in your security team?”
“Nope,” said Oliver. Colour rushed back to his knuckles as he flashed Tommy a grin. “Digg’s a one man show. What are you so scared of, anyway? You could’ve brought one of your security guys along, you know.”
“I could’ve, yeah,” agreed Tommy, returning his grin, “But where’s the fun in safety from muggers and murderers? ‘Live dangerously,’ and all that.”
“That’s the spirit.”
They walked down a narrow street, corner stores and cafés beaten down into piles of brick all around them. People stared at them as they passed, dirty and hollow, as if their souls had left their bodies, unwilling to stay in their shells as they slowly died. Tommy’s grin had since faded, replaced by the same nervousness as before. He was out of place here. This poverty, this sadness, and him – they didn’t mix.
Oliver would have felt the same, once. But the past few years had been eye-opening.
He knew his place now.
“I don’t get it, Ollie… Why do you come here? It’s so…”
“Depressing?”
Tommy nodded.
“Because I don’t like living the way we do, when these people have to live like... this. Coming here, it keeps me honest. Reminds me that I should be doing something.”
Oliver didn’t mean that as a jab, but Tommy flinched anyway. The young Merlyn knew how frustrated Oliver was at his father; Ollie had expressed his irritation at Malcolm Merlyn more than once to Tommy, pinning much of what was happening – or what wasn’t happening – in the Glades on the mayor and his inaction. It was unfair to heap it all on Tommy, Ollie knew that, but there were times when the frustration built up so high that he couldn’t help but vent. It was either that, or pick up a bow, and he’d be damned before he did that again.
“You know, you didn’t have to come with me, Wiz. It’s fine if you want to go home.”
A small smile formed on Tommy’s lips. “Still not used to being called that again. ‘Wizard.’ Heh. Never gets old.”
A sad silence threatened to settle over them.
“Nah, I’m staying here, man. No way am I flaking out on a chance to make up for lost time. Anyway, I… I’ve been meaning to come here. I’ve put it off for too long. The Glades are my home, too, y’know?”
“Yeah,” said Oliver, sympathy in his eyes, “I know.”
Tommy’s mom had made the Glades her second home. The neighbourhood had always struggled, even before the earthquake, and Rebecca Merlyn had been one of the people determined to help it. Her free clinics were havens for its residents, and her kindness had earned her renown throughout Star City. Tommy would often visit her there as a kid – it was often the only time he got to see her, so busy were the clinics.
She’d done so much for the Glades. It was almost poetic, really, that she died there, too.
A scream broke the silence, took Oliver back to the Island. Shrill. Afraid. Desperate. Without thinking, Oliver launched forwards, following the sound that had so often led him towards death – towards scenes of blood and violence and horror – running, Tommy’s alarmed shouts falling on deaf ears, his own mind’s protests going unheeded, his heart hammering with purpose. Oliver rounded a corner, into a broken-down alley of mortar and debris –
Three men had a girl pinned against a wall. She was no older than sixteen, skinny and frail, a child of the earthquake; the men were big, strong, and healthy, not from around here. Not from the Glades. One of them held a switchblade at her throat, another holding her arms. The remaining man hastily worked to undo his belt as the girl screamed – they didn’t bother to cover her mouth. They knew that no one would come.
They thought.
The man undoing his belt turned his head in time to see scarred knuckles. His Adam’s apple crashed into the back of his throat as Oliver hit him, and he collapsed to the ground, choking. Anger flashed across the other two’s faces, and they made to attack Oliver at once. He didn’t let them. He went for the switchblade first, lashing out with a crescent kick to the man’s wrist. The knife flew out of his hand, and Oliver elbowed him in the throat, sweeping him across the shins. His face smashed into the ground as the last man standing swung at Oliver’s head. Oliver blocked, grabbing the man’s wrist, and as he pulled the wrist towards himself he struck the man’s elbow with his forearm. A sickening crunch echoed through the alleyway, and the man sank to his knees, shrieking louder than the girl had. Oliver’s knee rammed into his nose, and all was silent.
All besides Tommy.
“Holy shit, Ollie.”
Oliver’s clothes were stained with the would-be rapists’ blood. His teeth were bared in an a beastly snarl; he breathed heavily, his shoulders hunched, fists clenched by his side. As his breaths grew longer and deeper, his thoughts started to drift back to the present, and he realised how he must look to his best friend, stooped over these lowlives, covered in their blood.
This was the first time in months that he’d had to do this. To give in to the Island. He looked at Tommy, who stood at the end of the alley, his eyes wide with shock; he looked at the girl, who was silent now, her fear replaced by blankness. He felt sick.
He tried to convince the girl to go somewhere else – somewhere safer. Where that was, he didn’t know. The Glades were a gamble, and everyone stuck there had to take it. There was no guarantee of safety. No guarantee of making it through the day. He just hoped that he helped her take the right risk.
And after that… After that, Tommy asked him for an explanation. “What the hell was that back there?”
Oliver sighed, and ran a hand through his hair – the hand not covered in the men’s blood. “Something… something I’ve tried to leave behind. Something I need to leave behind.” His eyes met Tommy’s. They looked back at him with confusion and concern. “I wasn’t alone on the Island, Tommy. Things… things happened there.”
Horrible things.
And he didn’t want to talk about them.
“Mr. Diggle’s with Thea right now,” said Oliver. His blue eyes surveyed their surroundings with a coolness that was absent from Tommy’s, taking in the ruins as if the sight of them didn’t make his blood boil – as if he could keep it temperate, and cold, and control his emotions. His scarred knuckles were white, hidden away within his green sweatshirt’s pockets.
“Right, right. And you have no one else in your security team?”
“Nope,” said Oliver. Colour rushed back to his knuckles as he flashed Tommy a grin. “Digg’s a one man show. What are you so scared of, anyway? You could’ve brought one of your security guys along, you know.”
“I could’ve, yeah,” agreed Tommy, returning his grin, “But where’s the fun in safety from muggers and murderers? ‘Live dangerously,’ and all that.”
“That’s the spirit.”
They walked down a narrow street, corner stores and cafés beaten down into piles of brick all around them. People stared at them as they passed, dirty and hollow, as if their souls had left their bodies, unwilling to stay in their shells as they slowly died. Tommy’s grin had since faded, replaced by the same nervousness as before. He was out of place here. This poverty, this sadness, and him – they didn’t mix.
Oliver would have felt the same, once. But the past few years had been eye-opening.
He knew his place now.
“I don’t get it, Ollie… Why do you come here? It’s so…”
“Depressing?”
Tommy nodded.
“Because I don’t like living the way we do, when these people have to live like... this. Coming here, it keeps me honest. Reminds me that I should be doing something.”
Oliver didn’t mean that as a jab, but Tommy flinched anyway. The young Merlyn knew how frustrated Oliver was at his father; Ollie had expressed his irritation at Malcolm Merlyn more than once to Tommy, pinning much of what was happening – or what wasn’t happening – in the Glades on the mayor and his inaction. It was unfair to heap it all on Tommy, Ollie knew that, but there were times when the frustration built up so high that he couldn’t help but vent. It was either that, or pick up a bow, and he’d be damned before he did that again.
“You know, you didn’t have to come with me, Wiz. It’s fine if you want to go home.”
A small smile formed on Tommy’s lips. “Still not used to being called that again. ‘Wizard.’ Heh. Never gets old.”
A sad silence threatened to settle over them.
“Nah, I’m staying here, man. No way am I flaking out on a chance to make up for lost time. Anyway, I… I’ve been meaning to come here. I’ve put it off for too long. The Glades are my home, too, y’know?”
“Yeah,” said Oliver, sympathy in his eyes, “I know.”
Tommy’s mom had made the Glades her second home. The neighbourhood had always struggled, even before the earthquake, and Rebecca Merlyn had been one of the people determined to help it. Her free clinics were havens for its residents, and her kindness had earned her renown throughout Star City. Tommy would often visit her there as a kid – it was often the only time he got to see her, so busy were the clinics.
She’d done so much for the Glades. It was almost poetic, really, that she died there, too.
A scream broke the silence, took Oliver back to the Island. Shrill. Afraid. Desperate. Without thinking, Oliver launched forwards, following the sound that had so often led him towards death – towards scenes of blood and violence and horror – running, Tommy’s alarmed shouts falling on deaf ears, his own mind’s protests going unheeded, his heart hammering with purpose. Oliver rounded a corner, into a broken-down alley of mortar and debris –
Three men had a girl pinned against a wall. She was no older than sixteen, skinny and frail, a child of the earthquake; the men were big, strong, and healthy, not from around here. Not from the Glades. One of them held a switchblade at her throat, another holding her arms. The remaining man hastily worked to undo his belt as the girl screamed – they didn’t bother to cover her mouth. They knew that no one would come.
They thought.
The man undoing his belt turned his head in time to see scarred knuckles. His Adam’s apple crashed into the back of his throat as Oliver hit him, and he collapsed to the ground, choking. Anger flashed across the other two’s faces, and they made to attack Oliver at once. He didn’t let them. He went for the switchblade first, lashing out with a crescent kick to the man’s wrist. The knife flew out of his hand, and Oliver elbowed him in the throat, sweeping him across the shins. His face smashed into the ground as the last man standing swung at Oliver’s head. Oliver blocked, grabbing the man’s wrist, and as he pulled the wrist towards himself he struck the man’s elbow with his forearm. A sickening crunch echoed through the alleyway, and the man sank to his knees, shrieking louder than the girl had. Oliver’s knee rammed into his nose, and all was silent.
All besides Tommy.
“Holy shit, Ollie.”
Oliver’s clothes were stained with the would-be rapists’ blood. His teeth were bared in an a beastly snarl; he breathed heavily, his shoulders hunched, fists clenched by his side. As his breaths grew longer and deeper, his thoughts started to drift back to the present, and he realised how he must look to his best friend, stooped over these lowlives, covered in their blood.
This was the first time in months that he’d had to do this. To give in to the Island. He looked at Tommy, who stood at the end of the alley, his eyes wide with shock; he looked at the girl, who was silent now, her fear replaced by blankness. He felt sick.
He tried to convince the girl to go somewhere else – somewhere safer. Where that was, he didn’t know. The Glades were a gamble, and everyone stuck there had to take it. There was no guarantee of safety. No guarantee of making it through the day. He just hoped that he helped her take the right risk.
And after that… After that, Tommy asked him for an explanation. “What the hell was that back there?”
Oliver sighed, and ran a hand through his hair – the hand not covered in the men’s blood. “Something… something I’ve tried to leave behind. Something I need to leave behind.” His eyes met Tommy’s. They looked back at him with confusion and concern. “I wasn’t alone on the Island, Tommy. Things… things happened there.”
Horrible things.
And he didn’t want to talk about them.
