Black Arrow #1

[Glippernip]

Black Arrow#1

Inner Turmoil

Written by Jim Crawbuck
Edited by Joel A. Sawyer



In an underground training facility beneath Queen Estate, a very large, blond haired man is perched with his ankles in rings suspended from the ceiling. He rests in a meditative state with his eyes closed, dangling in full split, nearly 7’ feet from the floor.

I’ve been active for 3 years now. The only proof of my existence is the left over arrows. I’ve been very good at staying away from being caught by witnesses and or cameras. It’s almost like that part of my life didn’t really exist. Up until my Uncle’s death.

It’s been four weeks since his funeral and the house of Queen has been at a stand still. My brother and I go about our training but without Uncle Roy giving us leads, Black Arrow has been inactive. When the topic of Uncle Roy comes up Mom smiles and says, “Just the way Roy would have want to go.” Dad just keeps muttering, “ I told that cocky hotshot I’d outlive him this time around.” Its strange. Mom and Dad, despite their age, are usually fill with vigor. We all miss him.

Uncle Roy and I were nothing alike. He was confident, fearless, and naturally gifted. Headstrong, light-hearted with a firmly planted sense of right and wrong, he was more like the man who raised me, former president Oliver Queen. They are best known as their personas in Justice League. Oliver, the man I call father, was the Green Arrow. He took me in when I was born. I never met my biological parents and it never mattered to me. Dad spoke very highly of my biological mother. He insisted on keeping her name alive. She earned that when she died giving birth to me. She had AIDs and developed some complications during my birth that led to her death.

Mia Dearden was her name she was the second Speedy, a legacy that began with Uncle Roy. The Speedies were trained by my Dad, who is one of the greatest Archers ever to live. his first pupil Roy, also known as Red Arrow, took his place in the Justice League and might have been better. It depends on whom you ask. Roy would tell you he was better. Dad will never admit it even if it is true.

My mother was a Justice Society member and a Justice Leaguer. She was one of the most respected heroines of the ‘Superhero’ era. She was the second Black Canary. She was a Meta and one of the world’s most proficient martial artists. When speaking of female hero’s the first name that comes up is Wonder Woman. The next breath is usually Black Canary. My much older sister is a current martial artist and hero known as the Jade Canary.

[Glippernip]

Another much older man enters the room. The moment he does the man supended from the rings greets him but never opens his eyes.

My name is John. My friends call me LJ. It’s a name Uncle Roy started to shorten my father’s nickname for me. He called me Little John. Ironical I grew to 6’4” and I weigh 240 pounds. Dad says it makes the name that much more fitting. He tells me a little John is supposed to be a big man. I don’t get it.

“Welcome brother. Are we training some more today,” asks LJ from his split position.

Now that it seems the spirit of the great era of hero’s is rekindled, I’m that one who’s been chosen to represent the Arrows and Black Canary. The paper dubbed me Black Arrow. My much older brother planned it to be. He is also my mentor. He trains me. Roy and his daughter used to make my equipment. Aunt Lian says she’s still on board; her father would want it that way.

The other man is clad in silk robes. He’s bald and he wears a thin mustache that blends into his long thin goatee. His goatee is mostly white mixed with some pale yellow. His skin has an olive like complexion.

It’s their gadgets and arrows that make it okay. I’m nowhere near as good as any of them. I mean putting an arrow in the muzzle of gun? Sure my magnetic arrows do it but they are guided. I have been training since I can walk and I have still never split an arrow with another arrow. I wear armor and a full-face masked helmet. They ran around in tights.

“I’m here by Lian’s request. Have you spoken with her? Is that what you are meditating on,” replies Conner Hawke to his student.

Conner will tell me my self-doubt is my biggest obstacle. I know he’s right but I have so much to live up to. I just want to make the world a better place and make my family proud.

“No. I was just being self-reflective,” answers LJ.

Conner grunts and stares into LJ’s closed eyes.

LJ twitches feeling his teacher’s gaze.

“I hope we are filtering out the negative, not dwelling in it,” states Conner.

LJ opens his eyes and very humbly dismounts his perch.

“I fight the negativity every day, brother . I would be lying to you if I told you I always win,” John admits sheepishly.

A smile creeps up on Conner’s face . He looks at his much younger adopted brother with pride.

“The fight never ends. You are winning whether it feels like it or not,” Conner declares.

Little John smiles back at his brother thanking him for the kind words.

[Glippernip]

“There they are, my action men,” booms Lian as she enters the room. “You boys do me a favor and try staying serious while I lay this on ya. So no cracking wise from either of you jokesters.”

Lian Lyons, Roy Harper’s daughter, is in her mid forties but could pass for late twenties. She is wearing a pink tee shirt that says ‘Now the party can begin’.

“I didn’t mean to give that impression Aunt Lian,” apologetically answers John.

Conner sighs.

“Time out” says Lian “ How many times I got to tell ya to slag the Aunt recyke. Our families are close but we are not related. It’s important you remember that, Stud,” as she throws him a wink.

“Please, Lian. That behavior is disgusting,” Conner demands, repulsed by the thought.

“I knew that would freak you out! I guess I’m just my father’s daughter,” laughs Lian.

“You certainly are,” grumbles Conner.

“What’s disgusting,” asks a bewildered Little John, “The language? You always say Lian talks like a sailor.”

“Conner, always thinking about me. You’re just a big softy,” Lian says.

“Lian, why do you need Black Arrow,” Conner bluntly asks.

“First order of business. I fixed the armors boot jets, I’ve restocked our arrows, fine-tuned the telescopic lens in the helmet, and added a static field generator in the belt buckle. It deflects projectiles and drains energy pulses . That’s some pretty cool recyke,” brags Lian.

Both men smile. No matter how rude she gets and foul she talks, Lian’s enthusiasm will always be consuming.

“Yes, Lian. Thank you,” says Conner.

“Well, my friend, Sharon O’Leary, has a daughter who is a Star City Detective. She believes that a gang, The Wall, put a hit out on Mayor Franksburg. She can’t prove it and no one in the department will take her seriously. She’s been secretly staking out the mayor’s secret service for the last few days. They convinced her more than ever that a hit is about to go down. I was hoping you could just keep an eye on her, make sure she’s safe. You haven’t gone out on a mission since my father died. He kept us moving, always getting leads, and being Mr. Proactive. Until we find a new way to…you know… it’s not like were doing anything right now.”

[Glippernip]

I’ve been following Detective Kristan O’Leary from the moment she got off of work to the moment she left the mayors house. I’ve been doing this the last couple days. I still haven’t noticed anything suspicious. Every day I sit in the shadows, thinking about Uncle Roy and sinking into a pocket of despair. I try focusing on recalling positive memories. Try remembering the day Conner was impressed both by your physical and mental discipline. Why is it when I think of being Black Arrow all I can see are my inadequacies? My father tells me both my biological and my adopted mother insisted on this life style. Never allowing all the ‘ naysayers' to deter them. Will I ever understand that type of bravery? I’ll never be as good as any of my predecessors in archery. No one will ever be as fast as Red Arrow. No one will ever be as determined as Green Arrow. How do you live up to a legend such as the Black Canary? I’m doomed to mediocrity. And the path of failure is paved with my insecurities. I can only guess, the clouds of emotional darkness I cast in my thoughts prevented me from seeing the moment when the hit man revealed himself. He already is in contact with the detective. The enhanced hearing that comes in my helmet zeros in on my target.

“Accuse me Mademoiselle,” says the hit man grabbing the Detective’s arm from behind her.

She was startled and dropped her phone.

“You are a Detective, no?” asks the assailant with the French accent.

She struggles to break his grip but can’t. She tries to hit 'send' on her phone with her foot but the man pulls her away from it.

“That’s right. Star City PD. Hurting me would not be wise,” she warns.

The crosshairs on my face shield light up. It’s time for action. Then my vision on the screen zooms in as the crosshairs are locking on the hit man’s back. Come on, be decisive, pick the right arrow, breath deep and focus. Tranquilizer arrow so no gets hurt.

“I do not wish to hurt you. You are far to pretty to be hurt for no purse,” retorts the hit man as he sniffs her neck.

“Typical, its always the bad boys that appreciate my style,” she huffs.

My helmet creates hundreds of tiny vectors in my viewer. I aim best I can for his right shoulder blade. I pick that vector. You got this. Just as I release he spins her to face me. The arrow lands in her left shoulder and she slumps in his arms. He doesn’t drop her. He pulls her tighter to his body to shield himself.

“A black arrow sticking out of my new girlfriend? You are not just a rumor. The Star City protector does exist, no?” he questions the darkness. “Reveal yourself, Hero. I know you don’t want to chance hitting the woman again”.

How did he do that? Its obvious he still doesn’t know where I am. I’m much to far away for the human eye to see me in this lighting. How did he know?

To Be Continued...