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Alright, here is what I've cobbled together so far for the CS. If anything is unclear or needs to be modified, please let me know!


The Glades of Star City - A Few Days Later
Issue 2.01.04: Renegade

Interaction(s): None
Previously: Issue 2.01.03: Lady


It was a rather unassuming building. A warehouse just south of the Glades, in a small industrial park. Roy recognized the names of the other company warehouses and office buildings, since he had become very familiar with them: they were Queen subsidiaries, after all. Of course, the place they were going had no clear signs besides the “Keep Out” and “Private Property” signs that littered the property.

The building looked more like a shed than anything else, with only one door clearly visible. Next to the door was a simple keypad, which Roy approached. He began typing in a sequence of thirty numbers, after which a small panel in the wall next to the keypad opened up to reveal a blue screen and camera. Roy placed his hand on the screen, and watched as it scanned his fingerprints while the camera focused in on his face. After a few moments, the screen began to glow green, and the series of locks on the door all simultaneously clicked.

Inside the shed was simply two benches with over the shoulder seat belts that seemed far more fitting in an automobile than a building like this. Roy sat down and buckled up, motioning for Grace to join. She followed suit, and the two sat under the glow of a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. That is, until the ground beneath them seemed to fall. The floor around the benches immediately began to plummet into the earth, in what was clearly some sort of strange elevator. Then, in but an instant, the elevator slowed down rapidly and then jolted to a stop. The lightbulb still dangled high above, though the facility the two found themselves in was incredibly complex. Display cases showcased a few variant costumes Roy had developed years before for his use as Speedy, as well as various quivers and bows.

Of course, a few half-opened cases that Roy had never had the time to clean up before he shipped himself off to rehab were still filled with various high-end gadgets and guns. Most of this remained to the side of the relatively stark silver room. In the center, though, was a desk with a monitor, a keyboard, and a mouse, all connected to wires that ran into the ground below. Roy gave a nod towards the computer, but immediately made his way towards one of the open cases. He reached in, picked up a rather large sidearm and loaded it with a readied magazine. Grace tilted her head in confusion for a moment, even more so when Roy turned the gun in her direction. ”What do you th-“

”You can step out now.”

Grace’s face was still plastered with confusion, until she heard steps behind her. She hadn’t bothered to look behind to notice that there was a small space behind the “elevator” hidden behind a wall, and that a woman wearing jeans and an oversized t-shirt with her arms held high had been hiding in that spot nearly a moment before. She glared at Roy. ”How did you know I was here. I kept the place spotless.”

Roy nodded towards the desk at the center of the room. ”I didn’t use a mouse last time I was here. I used a Trackball.”

The intruder glared at Roy as she kept her hands raised in surrender. ”I had to make upgrades. Your shit couldn’t get the job done.” Her voice was surprisingly calm and forceful, with not even a hint of fear.

”Sorry, haven’t been here in over a decade. Want to tell me why you’re here?”

”Put the gun down and maybe I’ll tell you.”

”Why would I do that?”

”You want to find out?”

Grace gave a small smile as she watched the two stare each other down unflinchingly, before finally stepping between the two and holding a hand out in Roy’s direction. ”I swear to the gods, I will knock sense into both of you if you don't settle down. Now.”

He relented, sliding the sidearm into the waistband of his jeans while the intruder lowered her hands. She instantly began making her way towards the center console, only to be stopped with a sudden jerking motion as Grace’s hand grasped around her arm and holding her in place for a moment. ”That doesn’t mean you have free reign of the place, darling. You’ve got some questions to answer.”

The intruder raised an eyebrow towards Grace and attempted to yank her arm away, only to find the grip tighten. In a relenting sigh, she responded, ”I’m a hacker. I got curious when Oliver Queen and the Green Arrow disappeared around the same time, only weeks apart. Decided to do some digging, and managed to find the perfect spot when it turned out that recurring payments for a small warehouse plot were still coming from an offshore account in an industrial park owned by Queen Industries. Didn’t realize I’d find the perfect hangout.”

Roy rolled his eyes, and began walking over to the terminal while Grace held the intruder in place. With a few quick taps, the monitor hummed to life. A few more, and Roy began tracing through some of the intruder’s current work. Until he found some anonymous post on a backwater forum that the intruder just happened to sign. The vigilante turned his gaze towards the woman still caught in Grace’s grasp. ”I’ve seen that name… which means you’re the mythical Quake who leaked the Vlatavan Report. SHIELD offers a fine bounty for your capture.”

”I guess that makes two of us, then.” Her voice had softened significantly, and Quake turned her gaze towards Grace Choi. ”You must be the accomplice Roy worked with in busting the meta trafficking ring.”

Grace raised an eyebrow and tightened her grip. ”How in Hades do you know he had an accomplice?”

Quake turned her gaze towards the ground. ”I… I was there. Lured me in with a job offer, wanted to meet in person. Must have picked up how I was posting about meta-rights, and figured out I was one too. So as soon as I was free and out of there, I ran and did my best to find a place where no one would ever find me. Well, except for you two. But you two are much ruder up close.”

Roy and Grace shared a look before the latter finally let go of Quake's shoulder. Quake rubbed her slightly bruised bicep while Roy worked on typing away at the console. He tossed a question out over his shoulder. "In the spirit of fairness... what's your name?"

Quake stood dumbstruck for a moment by the question, before finally just shaking off the confusion with her head. "Daisy. Daisy Johnson."

Roy finished tapping on the console, logging out of the system to reveal a fresh log-in screen. He spun on his right foot and faced the trespasser with a smile. "Alright then, here's the deal Daisy: You need a place to lie low, and I happen to be in need of someone who can break into a few servers to track some people down for me. Sound fair to you?"

Daisy's lips curled into a sly grin. "I think I can do that."
Nikolai "Demo" Markov


Location: The Ashford Institute for the Gifted

Interactions: None

Mentions: Everyone




Nikolai Markov opened his eyes to look up at the ceiling, but his vision took a little longer to shift into focus than he was used to. He didn't feel particularly sick, but rather felt the pain, panic, and emotional exhaustion of last night's events. His mind flickered back over the night before. Strange psychic messages, a weird monster, and Una. He shook his head violently just as his vision had returned and got up into a sitting position, feeling his body ache.

Nik's day wasn't particularly eventful. He had woken up late, which cut his workout time in half. Despite getting the extra sleep, Nik couldn't stay awake in his classes. Of course, this wasn't far from the norm. And yet, he could feel the stares. Whenever he walked the halls, he could hear the whispers. Word certainly had to have gotten out about what happened.

And then, of course, the end of the day arrived. And just as Nik was gathering all of his supplies, the announcement arrived. He hung his head for a moment and shoved one hand into his pocket as the other flung his backpack over his shoulder. It looked like it was going to be a long night.


Valentine, Texas - A Night 2 Months after the Crisis
Issue 2.01.03: Lady

Interaction(s): None
Previously: Issue 2.01.02: Blue Collar Man


The roar of the bike’s engine hummed throughout the small town, only dwarfed by the red-headed figure’s two-word scream. It had taken her nearly a month to track down Roy after he had fallen off the map. From what she put together; SHIELD had brought him in as a consultant, he fought alongside Captain America in New York City, and then he assassinated the Director of SHIELD out of the blue and disappeared. It didn’t make sense… but the bounty on his head was certainly worth the effort in searching for him.

Especially given the fact that he abandoned her.

Just like everyone else.


She had been on the road with him for months. They had begun setting up patterns. Limited list of aliases, dead drops… the sort of cloak and dagger shit she could expect from someone working for the world’s largest spy organization. He kept up the tradition as he was moving, and Grace had picked up his trail in Oklahoma. He was moving rapidly towards Mexico, perhaps to try and just get out of the country to avoid any prying eyes. But she was gaining rapidly on Roy, barely eating and sleeping to make sure that she could catch up to him. And from the sights and sounds she was picking up on, she had cornered her prey. The motorcycle sped in the direction of the flashing lights, only slowing down as two police officers positioned themselves behind their cars and pointed their guns towards the lone biker.

She didn’t have time for this.


Grace gently squeezed on the brakes to slow the motorcycle down, but refused to stop. Just as the police officers began to realize that she wasn’t stopping, the Amazonian was close enough that she could swing her leg over the side of the bike and send it launching towards one of the officer’s cowering behind the door. The sickening crunch of bones snapping was only overshadowed by the loud scraping of metal as the police car’s door was ripped from the vehicle by the collision.
It took only a moment, then, until the other officer began firing off shots with his sidearm towards Grace, who had used the temporary distraction to position herself behind the same car. Once the gunshots had halted and the officer began reloading his firearm, the Amazonian exile stood up to her full height and delivered a swift kick against the police car. The tires of the vehicle squealed as it lurched a few feet, and the force knocked the officer a few yards onto his back and into a rather deep sleep.

The police captain kept the gun placed against Roy’s temple as he watched in horror as the Amazonian slowly sauntered over, the only weapons visible on her person being a whip and a sheathed sword hanging from a belt on her tight leather pants, and her sleeveless denim jacket showcased her immense strength. But the police captain dug his knee deeper into Roy’s back and readjusted the grip on his firearm. ”You take one more fucking step and I’ll blow his damn brains out.”

Grace stopped in her tracks at this point and placed one hand on her right hip, directly next to the coil of rope dangling from her belt. With rolling eyes, she barked back, ”They only offer money if he’s alive.”
Within a split second, Grace gripped on to one end of the lasso and slipped it out with immense strength and speed directly towards the chief. The rope coiled around the barrel of the sidearm, and yanked away the weapon just as the chief pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted against the ground, and the gun flew off into the darkness behind the Amazonian. The police chief looked in surprise towards Grace, before he regained his composure for just long enough to shove himself to his feet and reach for the truncheon strapped to his waist.

Grace Choi didn’t take kindly to this threat, and grit her teeth as she approached the police chief. As he lifted his truncheon into the air to strike at her, Grace simply delivered one punch into the chief’s chest. A sickening crunch caused Roy to wince as the Chief flew backwards, only to end up colliding into the brick wall of the bar. Roy turned his head to see the chief not too far away from him, lying completely motionless. He wasn’t breathing.

Roy quickly scrambled up to his feet as his savior by circumstance stomped toward him. The scarlet archer raised his hands into the air in surrender. ”Grace… look, I didn’t do it.”

Grace, without so much as a word, used one hand to lift Roy into the air by his neck. She gave a slight squeeze, nearly collapsing his windpipe in the process. His feet began kicking, and his hands were desperately trying to pry Grace’s fingers off his throat. Her eyes were filled with hatred, but just as Roy could feel himself beginning to black out, she let go and dropped the vigilante to the ground. He gasped for breath on his knees, and Grace knelt next to him. ”That’s all you have to say? That you didn’t do it?”

Roy’s bloodshot eyes turned up towards Grace’s face, and the desperation plastered on his face caught the Amazonian off guard. ”Whoever it was had SHIELD access… they tricked me into going to the scene of the crime. Killed the Director of SHIELD just so that I would become public enemy number one.” He shakily rose to his feet, coughing as he did so. ”My… the man who made me this, he reappeared. And he’s worse now than what I remembered.”

Grace sighed and rose to her feet, walking towards a nearby pickup truck and tried the door handle. It opened with ease, and she rolled her eyes at the negligence. ”So then what’s your plan? You running away to Mexico?”
Roy shrugged as he massaged the tender flesh around his neck. ”Looking for help. I knew someone who used to live in Warpath, and figured I’d ask him. Assuming you wouldn’t show up.”

Grace’s face wasn’t visible, but Roy could have sworn he heard a near inaudible sigh between the sounds of the sparks as she got to work trying to get the engine running. It took her a moment before she responded. ”Well, I’m here. So what do we do now?”

Almost as if on cue, the engine of the truck hummed to life. Roy sidled up to the other side of the truck’s cab and hoisted himself in as Grace resituated herself into the driver’s seat. She turned her gaze to him expectantly as she put the truck in drive. ”Oliver helped me build a place outside of Star City so that I could take up the title of Green arrow one day.

I guess now is as good of a time as any to see if it’s still around.”

I have one and a half posts mostly written out, I just have to do some editing on the one. I got some interesting inspirational sources lately that have greatly shifted the direction I've wanted to go with Roy and the Outlaws in the immediate future, so Ive had to step back and replan my timeline/season.

Good news is, I will be spending most of next week just writing, so I can hopefully get a nice little backlog so I can go back to my regular old posting schedule.
So, I absolutely hate having to do this, but life has taken its toll. A lot of my free time is being eaten away as of late with no sign of that changing any time soon, so my time to write has been severely restricted. So, I would like to formally drop one of my two characters since I just don't see myself having the time to write two.

I am formally announcing my dropping of Iron Man so that someone can do something fantastic with the character.

I'm still not entirely ready to drop Roy Harper yet, and am diligently working on writing some good Outlaws stories when I have the time. Just wanted to give an update since I've been quiet for a couple weeks.

Valentine, Texas - 2 Months After the Crisis
Issue 2.01.01: Show Me the Way

Interaction(s): None
Previously: Issue 1.02.04: Sure Shot


The practically one-road town not too far from the border between Texas and Mexico looked like the set of a disaster movie. Cop cars had been knocked aside with large dents in the side, there were a few large bloody dents in the brick wall of the local bar, and the open door of the bar revealed a scene straight from a horror movie. The two suited men were quick to notice these details as they stood in front of their black SUV. Agent Phil Coulson removed his sunglasses as he knelt down next to the corpse of the police captain. His chest appeared to have collapsed in on itself. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, to say the least.

The other agent peered into the bar and took a step inside, making a quick scan of the scene as he walked to the other side of the bar and towards a large corpse that was missing half of one of his legs. Agent Masters examined the plethora of bullet holes lodged within the wooden booth and surrounding walls, before looking back towards the door. Not a single stray bullet had been fired in that direction.

Coulson entered the bar, shaking his head at the sign of the past bloodbath. ”You sure this was him? I’ve worked with him for years, and he doesn’t just go around shooting up bars in the middle of nowhere without a reason.”

Tony didn’t even look in Phil’s direction as he examined the countertop of the corner table. ”The locals in the bar all died from various gunshot wounds. They missed nearly every single shot. The other gunman didn’t miss a single shot.” Tony pulled out a small evidence bag and a small scalpel and carefully began chipping away at part of the table before using his gloved hand to place the sample in the bag. He tossed it across the bar with impeccable aim to Coulson, who only just managed to react in time to catch it. ”That blood sample should confirm it. I’m going to call in a Forensics team to see if we can figure out where he is going. He couldn’t have made it too far.”


Valentine, Texas - The Night Before
Issue 2.01.02: Blue Collar Man

Interaction(s): None
Previously: Issue 2.01.01:Show me the Way (ABOVE)


A raucous cacophony of cheers erupted in the small bar as a crowd of men in red vests began clapping each other on the back. It was the sort of bar you might expect to find in a backwater town like Valentine: the walls were littered with the paraphernalia and articles about the local high school sports teams, a few animal heads were hung up near the entrances, the single tv mounted in the bar looked like it was from the 80s and was barely holding on to life, and the only choice for alcohol were a plethora of domestic beers. Everyone in the bar had been born in town… with the exception of one person sitting in the corner. He was huddled over a greasy burger and a glass of water, doing his best to ignore the cheers from the other patrons.

Of course, that was never going to last on an occasion like this.

”Oi! Ginger! Why tha fuck aren’t ya celebratin’?”

The leader of this motley crew tilted his head from the midst of the crowd. He was a rather large man, standing at six and a half feet easy. Roy Harper simply kept digging in to his burger, grease dripping from his scruffy chin. He didn’t have to look up to see the boulder of a man lumbering towards the corner: the sound of the creaking floorboards were enough to give it away.

”You fuckin’ deaf? Or are you a tard?”

Roy finished chewing as his eyes turned up towards the man. [color=red]”It’s 2019, are we really still calling the disabled ‘retarded?’”

The man’s face contorted in anger for a moment as he looked down towards Roy, before looking back towards his friends. They looked over quizzically, which was just enough to get the man to flash a smug grin. "Well, ya ain’t deaf. So why aren’t ya raising a glass to celebrate a good hunt?”

Harper looked the man over before turning his gaze back towards the rest of the bar patrons. There were more guns in the bar than people. So Roy picked up his glass of water and lifted it in the air, giving a fake smile towards the instigator. ”Cheers.”

The glass shattered almost instantly as the hunter slapped Roy’s hand downward. Harper’s eyes, pointed downward, flashed with anger as he assessed the damage to his hand. Luckily, it was just a small cut: nothing he couldn’t fix easily. The former archer reached into his pocket to pull out a small red bandana that he quickly wrapped around his hand and tied up with the help of his teeth. ”You don’t cheer with water, you dumb fuck. Somebody get him a pint!”

As the barkeep quickly poured a pint, Roy shook his head and tried to wave his hand in the direction of the barkeep. ”I can’t have beer. I’m an alcoholic, and if I-”

The patrons of the bar began laughing as the barkeep nervously stepped out from behind the bar and walked over towards the table. The instigator snorted before lowering his face down next to Roy’s. ”Listen here… you’re going to lift that glass in a cheers to our successful mutie hunt, drain that stuff down your throat, and get out of our town before the sun rises in the morning. We don’t like you outsiders around these parts… and not accepting our generous gift of a beer might make us think that you’re refusing to cheer cause you’re some sort of mutie lover…”

The barkeep set the glass down on the table and quickly hobbled back behind his bar, pretending to nervously check something under the cabinets. Roy looked the instigator in the eyes before his gaze was drawn towards a tattoo on the neck… a tattoo he hadn’t seen in a few months. Of course they’re watchdogs… Through gritted teeth, Roy practically spit out, ”I didn’t come here looking for trouble… but hunting people like animals just because they are different… that’s where I draw the fucking line.”

The next three seconds were a blur for the instigator. Just as his nostrils flared and he cocked his arm back for a swing towards the ginger fuck, the watchdog heard a loud bang followed by searing pain in his left knee. Pain unlike anything he had felt before, he might add. The “outlaw” had pulled out a sawed-off shotgun from under his duster jacket next to him, and now the outlaw rested it directly against the watchdog’s sternum as he pulled a rather large semi-auto handgun from a holster on his belt and rested it on the watchdog’s shoulder. Roy gave a small smile as the others immediately began drawing for their own weapons, and he looked over the watchdog’s shoulder while nodding towards the man’s now missing left leg. ”Your friend needs medical attention. Might be best you all just walk away before this place becomes a Jackson Pollock knock-off.” The other patrons of the bar seemed to cock their heads to the side in collective confusion, forcing Roy to roll his eyes. ”Damn it, go to a museum sometime… point is, y’all can either walk away now or go back to your families in a casket.”

They chose poorly. Half the other patrons drew their choice of firearm and pointed it in Roy’s direction. Roy sighed and pulled the trigger on his sidearm, firing a single well-aimed shot at one of the hostiles in the center of the crowd. Brain matter flew out the back of the man’s head into the open eyes and mouth of an armed man behind him. As that man began tearing up and gagging, the rest began trying to circle around, shooting wide shots to try and scare Roy. That trick wasn’t going to work. Three more shots from Roy, and three more of the bar’s patrons fell to the ground. There were still about twelve armed patrons left, trying to circle around the outlaw with his back in the corner.

They didn’t realize that this was the chance Roy was waiting for. To his left, there was a normal table and some chairs that one of the hostiles was circling towards to get a shot off with his hunting rifle. With a shove, the watchdog instigator was left flailing backwards and soaking up a few shots from in front of Roy as he flicked the safety on for his handgun. Roy threw the handgun towards the man who was about to get a shot on him before ducking his head and charging left to knock the table over for cover. Some shots impacted against the wall behind Roy as he managed to lift up the table with his right hand just in time to take a few shots. The hostile with the rifle had just about recovered from getting a solid piece of metal thrown into his face when he saw the barrel of a shotgun. Then he saw nothing as his head was blown to hell.

Roy ducked his back behind the table and felt the vibrations in the wood as the rest of the hostiles kept up their barrage of bullets in his direction. Roy didn’t have much time to think. Luckily, he was able to catch a decent reflection in a framed newspaper article. Roy picked up his sidearm once again and fired around the corner of the table. Four shots, four dead. Only 7 were left, but their hail of bullets wouldn’t let up.

So he assessed the scene and tried to think of the best way to distract the others. Roy fumbled with the revolver in the deceased hostile’s belt and set it on his lap before reaching towards his pocket and pulling out a lighter. The outlaw quickly tossed the lighter off to his side. It was just the distraction he needed as the other bar patrons all turned their guns in the direction of the lighter to continue their volley of bullets. Roy used this opportunity to jump to his feet, one sidearm in each hand as he lit up the remaining hostiles. And then there were none.

The cops arrived on the scene once the violence had ended, and just as a lone unarmed individual exited the small bar with his hands raised in the air. Three cop cars arrived at the scene, and before the cars even reached a complete stop the officers had their guns pulled and were barking orders to the lone figure. He didn’t resist, and simply knelt down slowly before lowering himself to the ground and placing his palms on the ground. Two officers rushed up and dug their knees into Roy’s back as they continued aiming their guns at the outsider. The Captain of the small police force opened up the door to the bar and nearly threw up at the sight of the carnage inside. He pulled his sidearm and pushed aside his other officers as he placed the barrel of the gun against Roy’s temple, screaming the question, ”What have you done?!”

Roy remained quiet, gritting his teeth at the pain for a moment. Until he heard a rumbling in the distance. He recognized that faint roaring sound. And it wasn’t a good sign… not now. ”We need to get out of here… now.”

”YOU ARE IN NO POSITION TO GIVE ORDERS, ASSHAT!”

As the roar began to grow louder, the other officers moved to hide behind their cars and draw their weapons. A lone light appeared and grew louder, but as the cops tried barking out commands, their voices were drowned out by a distant scream.

”ROY HARPER!”

Would be stretching myself a bit thin, but if things happen and I have more time down the line, always happy to bring in Speedy down the line.
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