A/N: So, it's been too long since I've updated this story. So, this chapter is me getting back into writing this fic. The thing is, I have a somewhat story arc for this series, and honestly, I still want to complete it. So, this chapter is probably going to be primarily worldbuilding, along with some Merlyn-finding. Additionally, this hasn't been proof-checked to a ridiculous amount as per my usual, so my apologies for that:P
Memories and Mourning
An arrow flew through the air, and landed at the ground next to the two doors of the three-story building.
For a second it merely beeped, and then it promptly exploded.
The guards ran over and pulled out their weapons, but Dinah Laurel Lance released out a Canary Cry that threw them into the nearest wall.
Oliver Queen, known in this outfit as the Green Arrow, forcibly kicked whatever was left of the doors, and moved inwards. The Black Canary followed.
Gunfire could be heard, along with the sounds of men crying out in pain, and the sounds of people being punched in the face. A large-looking man flew through a window onto the street's road, moaning in pain for a moment, before sighing and falling unconscious.
Two more men flew out of the same window, seemingly thrown out by the vigilantes, and another Canary Cry could be heard – and seen, given the shaking ground and quickly collapsing walls – which seemed to finish the fight, given the sudden silence.
The wooden stairs almost gave out as Oliver and Laurel ascended them (thanks to the Canary Cries), and a guy with a machine gun tried to ambush them on the second floor, but Oliver simply grabbed the man by the shoulder, pulled the gun away with his other hand, and threw the goon down the stairs. Oliver smirked ever-so-slightly when he saw the man tumble down the steps, landing at the floor painfully.
The Green Arrow moved past the stairs and through a longue room, where he had to fire two arrows into the chests of men about to run at him. A third tried to hit him with a baseball bat, but the Black Canary used her foot to trip the man over, and she knocked him out with precise hits to the head and neck.
They found a different set of stairs after Oliver kicked down another door, this one so weak it splintered on contact with his foot, and they both quickly ascended up the stairs.
Oliver and Laurel found themselves entering an office, and a man in a wardrobe tried to jump Oliver, but he simply side-stepped, which cause the goon to accidently run directly out of the window, and down three stories onto the cold road.
"Idiot." Oliver muttered, and Laurel smiled slightly as they moved to the large desk. After several minutes of pulling open drawers, Laurel said something.
"Here!" She said, motioning to a file she held in her hand.
Oliver moved over to her, to see a large file Laurel had opened. On the page they were looking at, was another picture of Jansen Loss, and Blake Archfield.
"Got 'em!" Laurel said, pointing to text below the image. "It says 'two persons of interest to Mr. Darhk, pictured making some kind of deal. In brackets, it says 'more surveillance needed'. Then it says, 'picture taken at the Starling City docks, June 3rd, 2014'!"
"Got 'em." Oliver said in satisfaction. "Since Jansen's still in surgery, this is the best lead we've got."
Both vigilantes suddenly heard the sound of large vehicles screeching to a halt outside.
"Well, reinforcements are here." Laurel noted.
"Well then we better go say hi." Oliver retorted, and the two shared a small smile, before they went to work.
He stared at his recently healed hand, nodding at it in satisfaction. It was an… Adequate heal.
He was seeking the man known as 'Blake Archfield' but even with his… Abilities, he was only as close as the vigilantes he was following were. They would lead him to the Archfield man, he would attain information, and locate the pretender, Malcom Merlyn.
Even in the years long past, the League of Assassins had kept their distance from his former group, but they had always kept respect for each other, they always had. But this Merlyn, on the other hand… He had no respect for them. From what he could tell, this Merlyn hadn't even heard of him.
But Merlyn still had followers. Foolish fanatics that obeyed him, that filled the ranks of his army. If he had to choose, he would quickly support the female 'Al Ghul'. She had the birthright, and the smarts and senses to become the true Ra's Al Ghul.
But that was in the future, near as it might be. He needed to focus on the now.
He turned his gaze back to his strange hand, staring once more at the swirling, black tattoo. It usually formed to whatever the magical energies wanted him to do next, but tonight it was empty. Sometimes, he questioned his purpose.
Had it been the leader they followed, or the magic? He honestly couldn't remember.
But then again, it had been millennia since they had rules, or meaning…
Well, that wasn't fair. He had a purpose, of a sort.
So, he picked up his blade from where it was embedded in the floor, and jumped from the building he stood on, into the darkness.
Sara Lance stood by a gravestone, which was shadowed by a large tree that practically hid it from view. It was in a very quiet corner of the graveyard, far away from the streets of Star City.
"Hey, Jeremy." Sara said, smiling sadly down at the stone. "I'm back, back from the dead… Again…"
She sighed sadly, kneeling down onto her knees and placing a hand on the gravestone.
"But you're not." She said, tears already starting to fall down her face. "You're still in the ground. My little brother…"
The tears were fully fledged now, and Sara made no effort to wipe them away.
"I miss you." She cried. "I miss your silly little smile, the way you played that old second-hand guitar, the way you smiled when Ollie gave you a brand-new one, everything. Laurel's here, I'm back from the dead twice, Dad is past most of his problems, so why… Why can't you be back too?"
She sighed again.
"Yeah." She said sadly. "Because you're dead, and if you came… Came back, you wouldn't be the same brother I grew up with, huh? But I miss you, little bro. So damn much…"
She stood up, wiping away her tears as she did so. Suddenly, her phone buzzed, and she answered it quickly.
"Yeah, Ollie?" She said, listening closely to his response. "Okay, I'll be there soon."
Sara took one last glance at the grave, and remembered even more.
Birthdays, parties, getting in trouble at school…
And that damn smile…
She placed a finger on the gravestone, and held it there for a moment, before walking away.
"How did this heathen get in here?!" The man in the golden colours roared, pointing an accusatory finger at another man.
"I do not know, my lord." The knight responded, bowing his head respectfully. "All I know is what I saw. Red colours, the colours of Satan himself!"
The man in the golden colours nodded.
"Very well." He said. "This… Demon, shall be killed on the morrow. Take him away, and put him in chains!"
Two well-armoured (and armed) men grabbed him by the shoulders once more, but before they moved him, he spoke.
"I… Think… Not."
The two men went to respond, but had no time to when he pulled out a small blade and sliced their necks before they could even move.
"KILL THIS HEATHEN!" The man in the gold roared, and the five knights unsheathed their blades, moving in quickly.
He danced past one blade, slicing at the wrist, and the first knight let out a cry of pain that was quickly silenced with a knife lodged into the neck. He grabbed the sword out of the dead man's hand, and readied himself for battle.
The second and third knights went for him next, one going for an above-head strike, and the other going for his knees. He simply threw his blade at the one going for his head, and jumped above the blade that went for his legs, landing tight next to the man who had now fallen from his attempted attack.
He pulled off the man's helmet, and hit his head with it hard enough that he stayed down. He grabbed that man's sword, and casually sliced at his neck as he walked past.
The third knight was ready to launch another attack, or so he thought. The knight went for a stab, but he simply side-stepped the attack, and sliced the knight's hand off. He screamed, bleeding profusely as he fell to the ground.
The fourth knight had a battleaxe, so he simply raised his unclothed and unarmoured right hand, and it started to glow as he pointed his index finger at the man. Strange red energy came from the corpses around him, and it circled around his hand…
Before suddenly launching forwards, and decapitating the fourth knight.
The final knight dropped his weapon in terror, and he calmly moved his hand in a swiping motion, causing the knight to be thrown at the temple wall so hard he practically splattered onto it.
The man in the gold screamed in terror, desperately reaching someplace nearby for something, and then that something was revealed as a crossbow that the man in the gold pointed at him.
The bolt flew directly into his eye, but he just left it there as he walked, back-handing the man with his left hand when he got close enough, and calmly pushing his head onto the ground.
With one slash, the man's head was removed from his body, and his work was done.
Suddenly, he heard the sounds of clapping, and he looked over to see his master.
"Good work, my son." He said slowly, relying quite visibly on his ancient-looking wooden cane as he moved closer. He had the oldest-looking face in the world, and one eye was shut tight, with a scar over it that went down to his cheek.
"You have… Succeeded." The old man said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He moved that hand down to his unclothed hand, and held it in his.
The pain as red energy moved from the old mentor to his somewhat younger apprentice could be described as nothing below extreme, but as he looked down to see that black swirling circle, he knew he could take the eternal pain.
The old man patted him on the shoulder, a proud smile on his old face.
"You are one of use now, son. You are a Marked One."
A/N: I'm sorry this is hilariously short, but I figured it was time to return to this project. The next chapter, however, should hopefully not take months for me to bother to write it:)