So, I took a few weeks off of the flash fiction series. It is something I have personally missed doing. And will aim to continue this part of my blog. This week, however, my husband would like to include a piece of his own; so I have opened up this week’s slot to him. Here it is – I hope you enjoy…
Oliver Queen groaned as consciousness forced its way into his head.
Everything hurt, but it had lessened since the last time his eyes were half-open. Panic seized him when he opened his eyes, and all he saw was blackness. Was he blind? He hadn’t been hit in the face that badly, had he?
He could smell wet stone and damp metal.
There was a cool breeze on his face.
His mask was gone, his hood tucked under the back of his head.
He wasn’t restrained, and he didn’t feel any of the usual after effects of drugs, at least none he had personally experienced. When he finally moved, he felt everything hurt at once. He struggled to right himself.
He could hear something in the distance, some small animal squeaking that echoed around the space he was in. Where was it coming from? Why couldn’t he pinpoint the noise? He was sure it wasn’t the only one, judging by the answering calls.
He spun on the comfortable bed, and his boots touched a metal floor.
Oliver stood, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
It was a cave, he was sure of that now, the rock hanging over like an archway far above. He could see several big metal platforms jutting out from the cave wall, supported on massive heavy beams and thick industrial cables. The very top one seemed to have a craft sat on it, idling, but the lights were dim.
Hadn’t he seen that thing flying before?
One of them, with two large rectangular tunnels cut into the rock, had an armoured car sat on it, low and threatening like a tank crossed with a Lamborghini –black, of course. He saw at least two others festooned with darkened glass cabinets and hidden suits inside, mirroring his own headquarters. But this place was something else entirely, far beyond the basement of Verdant.
The bed he had been lying on was one of two, each with medical equipment waiting on standby nearby. Stairs led up and around to another platform, where a bright glow radiated out from something he couldn’t see.
On the stairs, he found his compound bow and arrows untouched, but he was sure he would not be able to use them. He swallowed as he ascended the stairs, his heartbeat rising.
What was this place?
It looked like a full military operation.
“Oliver Queen,” a dark gravelly voice said from the shadows. “Green Arrow.”
It echoed around the cave.
He squinted to see past the glow.
A massive bank of flat-screens joined together to form a computer display Felicity would kill to get her hands on. A single high-backed chair sat in front of it all, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in it.
“Who are you?” he asked, his own voice bouncing off the walls.
That animal squeak again, this time answered by hundreds more.
He looked up into the darkness of the roof of the cave, and saw the creatures.
Hundreds of them.
He flinched, startled when he saw a shadow detach itself from the darkness. It made no noise, no sound whatsoever, but it continued moving, further and further towards the light of the big screen.
Oliver braced himself, cursing himself for being so stupid as to be frightened.
This man was a master, though.
That much was obvious.
As he stepped into the glow, the legends became fact.
He wore grey body armour that covered his legs arms and torso, a pointy-eared cowl of black covered most of his face, and a long cape flowed over his shoulders to kiss the metal floor.
It was him.
The vigilante that criminals ran screaming in fear from.
The papers –not that any had a picture of him- called him the Caped Crusader.
The Dark Knight.
Oliver shivered as the name slipped from his lips.
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