Green Arrow #2

Dream Quest - Part Two

Family Feud

By

C. Perez

"You're wrong, Roy. He is alive."

I gritted my teeth against the irritation of Connor's interruption. I understood what he was going through. He'd only just found Ollie, was only just beginning to find out what kind of a man his father was. And then, before they really had a chance to get to know each other. Bang. Dad got stolen away by the family business. And Connor's alone again. Just like all of the rest of us.

"Listen, Hawke, you need to let this go. Holding on to this is only going to let the pain hurt more and last longer."

"Dammit, Roy!" Connor shrugged off my hand and stepped back, "I'm not delusional! I'm not making this up! Oliver's alive and I need your help to find him!"

I stepped back. Eyes closed, head hanging down, I focused on my breathing. I focused on calming the irrational rage, I felt building up inside of me. I could feel Connor standing a few feet away, glaring at me. I knew that his entire being was focused on me- pleading, begging, and demanding that I believe him. Demanding that I help him on this insane quest. But, I was just too damned tired of all this bull$#!+.

I turned away from him. I started walking back to the park bench. I was going to pick up my stuff, get Lian and just go back to Titan's Island. Forget this whole day had taken place. Maybe someday I'd see Connor again. Someday, when he'd given up his Don Quixote quest. Maybe then we could talk things over- patch it all up and make everything all right again. But, just right then, I was just too damned tired. And I had too many other things on my plate, to be picking at emotional scabs that just wouldn't heal.

Then there was a hand on my arm, grabbing hold, trying to turn me around. And I was spinning. His eyes were angry and demanding, his mouth half open- ready to demand my attention, ready to continue his arguments to convince me into helping find our dead father.

The butterfly knife flashed as I flipped it open. His eyes widened in dismay, his head snapped back reflexively from the hungry blade. There was a flash of blood. Connor staggered back, and red flowed freely from a shallow wound above his right eye.

The blade drew a trail of red as it sang through the air. The back swing was a cold and hungry thing, unsatisfied with the first teasing taste of blood. A steel fang it flashed for Connor's shoulder blade, seeking to drive itself deep, and quench the rabid lust that had awakened within my breast.

Connor reacted with the speed of a striking cobra. Even with one eye half-shut, and one eye blinded with blood, he still managed to block my blow with ease. Then, before I could draw my arm back, he'd wrapped it up in an arm lock. Stepping back and yanking down it became a shoulder lock and at almost any other time, I would have been finished.

Not this time, however. As fast as Connor moved, and as capable a fighter as he was, he was still badly bruised. His injured arm kept him from keeping the hold as tight as it could have been- done properly, I would have been incapacitated, unable to have made any other move than to have fallen to my knees in defeat. As it was, I had just enough maneuvering room to kick him in his bad leg.

It wasn't something I was proud of, but anger and desperation drove me to extremes I would otherwise have avoided. Through it all, even as he fell to his side, clutching his useless leg, Connor made no sound. Even in the midst of my rage, even while I was systematically trying to take the kid apart, I had to admit to myself that I probably wouldn't have even come close to touching him if he hadn't kept completely on the defensive. Even then, if he hadn't already been hurt, he'd probably still be whooping on me but good.

In the end though, anger overcame my grudging respect. As Connor struggled to get back to his feet, I reached into a hidden holster in my jacket and snapped out my cobra baton. Raising the collapsible baton over my head I loomed over my fallen brother and prepared to. I don't know what I would have done. It doesn't really matter, though, since I never had a chance to find out. A loud crack resounded from across the park clearing and a cloud of dirt exploded six inches from my foot.

I spun to where the gunshot must have come from, hand reaching for the dozen, or so throwing knives strapped to my back. And froze. Eddie Fyers stood not more than a dozen yards away. He held one of his ever-present cigarettes between his lips, a .357 Magnum Desert Eagle held loosely in his expert grip.

Eddie Fyers had been one of Ollie's most capable foes. He had also been one of Ollie's closest friends. A friendship that later turned into a sense of over protective care for Oliver's son, Connor.

And of course, Fyers was one of the most capable killers in the world. An assassin and a spy, he was known far and wide as one of the best gunslingers out there. He'd beaten Deathstroke, the Terminator, a guy who'd beaten the living $#!+ out of me on numerous occasions. He probably carried as many guns on him at any given time as I had knives. It didn't matter- my hand was on a throwing shiv and I wasn't backing down.

Once again, I don't know what might have happened, because the choice was taken away from me. Lian walked right into the middle of the kill zone. She knows what guns are, she knows to stay out of the line of fire, but there she was- standing right smack between Fyers and me, staring up at me with her big, confused eyes.

"Is something wrong, daddy? Why ya so mad at Uncle Connor?"

"I..." I glanced over at Connor and he was just sitting there on the ground. His head was hanging down, and his shoulders slumped. He was the very picture of defeat. And I suddenly remembered- I wasn't mad at him. I wasn't even mad at Fyers- not that much.

My hand fell away from the throwing shiv, instead I placed it on Lian's head, somehow managing a weak attempt at a comforting grin. I stepped towards Connor, thinking to offer him a hand up, maybe check his wounds. I never had any actual medical training, but you hang out with the people I do long enough and you pick up some skills.

There was another gunshot and another clod of dirt exploded into the sky. Apparently, Eddie Fyers wasn't convinced of my change of heart. I guess I couldn't really blame him. That didn't make me like him any more.

"It's okay Eddie," Connor said, making his way to his feet. Lian was holding his uninjured arm, trying to help lift him up.

"Says you, kid," Eddie hadn't dropped his guard an inch. His gun barrel hadn't moved more than a fraction since he last shot it- which meant it was still pointed in my general direction. I wasn't really happy with that fact.

"Eddie," there was steel in Connor's voice. And even though he was so beaten up that he needed the help of a three year old girl to stand up, he was seriously threatening one of the deadliest men in the world.

"You know, I thought my family was rough," Eddie's voice was low and gruff as he holstered the miniature cannon, "Look, just because they're family, that doesn't mean you let them beat the $#!+ out of you whenever you tell them something they don't want to hear."

"They?" that's when it all snapped together. I turned and stared at Connor, eyeing his various injuries. Or, at least the ones I hadn't just recently inflicted. "You stupid little...You went to Dinah first, didn't you?!"

Connor was hanging his head sheepishly again and not looking up to meet my eye. When I gave Fyers an incredulous look, he just shrugged and turned away, obviously he wasn't accepting any of the blame for that decision.

I uttered a few choice Navajo curses, before turning to glare at the young battered youth who teetered on the brink of physical collapse.

"You told her you thought Ollie was alive?! And then you tried to make her join you in your damn fool quest to find him?!"

Connor still wasn't meeting my eyes.

I was amazed at the sheer suicidal stupidity necessary to tell Dinah Lance that her one time paramour was still alive and had, for whatever reason, just not gotten around to telling her yet. And then, on top of that, to ask her to help him find the bastard? But, I knew Connor, and I knew it wasn't stupidity. It was naivete. It was pure and simple innocence.

I chuckled. I couldn't help it. Just the thought of Dinah's undoubted hell-raising reaction to the news that Ollie might still be alive. It was a nervous kind of chuckle, though- I'd seen some of Dinah's rages up close and personal, and I was damn glad that I hadn't been there for that one.

Connor gave me a sideways look. It's obvious that he wasn't sure if I still wanted to beat on him, but I think he knew why I was chuckling. He offered up a sheepish grin. It was the kind of grin a little kid might have given his older brother after getting caught and then spanked by their pops. Kind of like- yeah, that hurt, but you know how it is, right?

And you know? I did know how it is. And all of a sudden we were laughing again. And this one came from the belly. The tension, the stupidity of it all, it just rolled out until we were just standing there, arms around each other giggling sporadically. Then we'd look at each other, and bust out laughing again.

Fyers looked at us in disgust. He sheathed his gun and ground out his cigarette beneath the heel of his boot. It was obvious that he had decided we were just patently insane. Lian was just ignoring us, her attention having returned to her plastic ball. She'd always known I was insane, and I guess she just figured that Connor, being a member of the family, was probably all bonky in the head as well.

And there it was. Family. And I knew that no matter my own doubts, I was going to help Connor in anyway I could. No matter what. After all, that was what family was for, right Ollie? I guess that was the only other thing you left us, other than our shared sorrow over your death. Family.

"Alright, Connor. Let's go, I think I know someone who can help."

Next Issue:
Roy claims to know someone who can help Connor on his quest. Who will it be? Join us in 30 and find out.