Well, this is something of a dare because I'm pretty sure I'm one of

only five people in America that reads this book - but, hell, there

ain't enough DC fan-fic out there.  Anyway, thus goes the disclaimer:

Everybody except Elise belongs to somebody else.  JLA, Green Arrow,

Eddie Fyers, and Truman belong to DC.  I took them from three different

books and I promise to put them back where I found them.  Eddie Fyers

has a slightly foul mouth, so I put this at PG-13 for the easily

shocked.

 

Timeline wise, this takes place before JLA #5, before Green Arrow #120,

and after Hitman #12   

 

 

 

Green Arrow: The Assassination of Diana Prince

by Alexandra Nigro (1/4)

PG-13

 

 

"OK.  Now close your eyes, open your mouth, and let the experience wash over you."

 

"It's too hot to drink."

 

"It's better that way, trust me."  Kyle Rayner watched in bemusement as his companion took a tentative sip of the triple espresso and made a face that would have frightened away alien invaders.  "Now wasn't that nectar from heaven?"

 

"That's disgusting!"  Conner Hawke shoved the Styrofoam cup back into Kyle's hands.  "How can you drink that?"

 

"Drink it?  I *live* by it.  It's the purest form of caffeine short of shooting it directly into my veins."

 

Connor cocked one blond eyebrow.  "If you have a drug problem, perhaps we should discuss it."

 

"Heh.  The day they make caffeine illegal is the day I pack my ring and move galaxies."

 

A large, grinning bald man walked up to the couple.  "You like?"

 

Kyle spread his arms wide and greeted the man.  "Radu!  He *loves* it.  You're a master at your craft.  We'll get another to go."  He waited until Radu had return to his machine before reassuring his friend. "Would you relax please?  I'll drink them both."

 

 

~oo00oo~

Kyle fumbled both cups as he dug into his jeans for the keys to his apartment.

 

Connor deftly grabbed the Styrofoam containers before they spilled and waited patiently for Kyle to open the door.  "I'm going to have to peel you off the ceiling."

 

"Hey, I need the high.  I've four greeting card prototypes that need to be into Hallmark before nine tomorrow."

 

Connor threw his backpack down on the couch and turned to face his friend.  "I'm sorry to interrupt, perhaps I should have joined Eddie at the hotel."

 

Kyle smiled and slapped him on the shoulder.  "Don't be ridiculous.  I'm thrilled you're here.  Truth to tell, with Donna and Robert at Disney World, this place was getting a little lonely.  Besides, no friend of mine stays at a hotel in New York.  I just hope you don't mind the sound of furious pencil scribbling coming from the den."

 

"I'd like to see your work - if you have time."

 

"Appeal to my ego, eh?  Works every time.  Follow me."

 

Connor followed Kyle into the makeshift study and began to examine the art hung on the walls.  "Kyle, these are beautiful.  And you say you get paid for this?"

 

The young brunet collapsed back into his work chair and groaned.  "Not a chance.  That's my personal work up there.  Mostly I do greeting cards, technical illustrations - I once even did fill-in work on a comic book.  Not fun, but it brings in the rent money."  He held up his right hand to the lamp, illuminating a shining green ring on the middle finger.  "For all the power in the universe at my fingertips, it doesn't pay my bills."

 

"I fear I'm going to have the same problem.  My mother set up a trust account for me, but soon I'm going to have to pay my way."

 

"Any idea of what you'd like to do?"

 

Connor gave his friend a sheepish grin.  "None.  They weren't very practical-minded at the monastery."

 

"I'll bet.  Hey!  Maybe you could teach meditation or something like that?"

 

Connor leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.  "You think people would pay me to teach them how to meditate?"

 

"In the Village they pay for just about anything.  In fact, I was wondering if you could teach me a trick or two."

 

The eyebrows rose again.  "You wish to follow the path of Zen Buddhism?"

 

Kyle laughed.  "Not exactly.  It's about the ring.  I'm getting better at the imagination side of making it work, but there's so much this ring can do that I can't figure out.  I was hoping a little center and some concentration might help me unlock a few of its secrets."

 

"Excellent.  But if you wish to take control of your mind and body, you will first have to give up the caffeine."  Connor walked out of the den, trying desperately not to laugh at his friend's horrified expression.

 

~oo00oo~

 

Connor found Eddie Fyers at the appointed diner on Sixth Street.

 

"You're late.  If I didn't know better, I'd say you spent last night with a girl."

 

Connor sat down and noted with dismay that Eddie had ordered him a chicken salad.  He methodically began picking out the chunks of white meat.  "I was staying with Green Lantern."

 

Eddie cocked an eyebrow and took another large bite of his bacon cheeseburger.  "Oh yeah?" he mumbled over the food in his mouth, "so I'm not cleared for his super-secret identity?"

 

"It's not my......"

 

"Don't worry about it. It's probably a good idea that you start networking with the pyjama crowd.  Your dad burned a few bridges that you might want to think about rebuilding.  By the way, how is Mr. Crab Face Guy?"

 

Connor let the jibe pass.  Something was obviously upsetting his friend to let his abrasive attitude show in such full flourish.  "Fine.  He wants me to stay with him for a few more days.  Actually...."  Connor shoved his fork into the now-vegetarian salad.  ".......he wants me to apply for membership in the Justice League."

 

Eddie and Connor sat quietly for a few moments, letting that uncomfortable statement sit between them.

 

Eddie spoke first.  "That's not a bad idea.  Your dad used to run with that crowd, probably be a better influence on you than I would."

 

"I don't have the skill to join the League, I'm not a Meta."

 

"Neither is the Batman."

 

"I'm not the Batman, either.  I doubt the Justice League has any room for a eighteen-year-old with good aim."

"Huh.  Actually, Ollie felt the same way towards the end.  Just as well, the group mentality can do terrible things to a person.  Speaking of which, I've got a favor to do a friend here in New York, maybe you should spend some quality time with your own kind."

 

His own kind?  What the hell did that mean?  "What favor? Maybe I can help."

 

Eddie shoved his wire-rimmed glasses up against his face.  "Old firm friend.  Retired.  Has some college-aged daughter caught up in the wrong crowd.  I figure I'd take a look into it and make a few noises about growing pains and all that crap.  No big deal."

 

"This friend wants you to talk to his daughter who's in trouble....and you're just going to make 'a few noises'?"

 

The crow lines framing Eddie Fyer's eyes deepened.  "People who spent their whole lives mucking about in war and politics think families are just as easy to manipulate.  They ain't.  Guy spent his whole life moving people about like chess pieces and now he has his panties in a twist because his kid wants to play militia brat.  People have a right to make their own stupid choices, even if they involve the Church of the Shield of the Souls."

 

The monks had taught the religious and social philosophies of a dozen different religions.  This Church that Eddie mentioned rang no bells for Connor.  "A Christian affiliation?"

 

 "The name's just to look snazzy on letter-head.  Basically they're a protest group against meta-human interference in world development.  Airport-nut cases who think blowing away rival countries with nukes is Mom, God, and Apple Pie, but X-Ray vision is the Anti-Christ.  It takes all types.  Hey, but don't worry, you're no 'meta', so no problem."

 

"But Green Lantern is."

 

"Green Lantern is an idiot with a magic ring, not a meta.  And I really don't think Superman and Wonder Woman sit up nights worrying about these morons."

 

Connor took a deep breath and let Eddie's tone of voice sail past him like a breeze.  "And yet you still asked me to come with you to New York.  This has more to it than your friend's relationship issues."

 

"Jesus, Connor, you have to stop following Oprah.  I liked you better before you started watching TV.  And yes, there's more to it.  But I can keep my own counsel, thank you very much.  I trust you brought your tights?"

 

That remark required another deep breath.  "You want Green Arrow?"

 

"I feel like making a splash.  You sure you want to come?"

 

Connor shoved his half-eaten salad back and stood up.  "I would always help a friend."

 

Eddie opened his wallet and nonchalantly threw a twenty down on the table. 

 

"I wouldn't, but this might be fun."

 

~oo00oo~

 

Eddie clutched the steering wheel a little tighter and wondered how he had ended up as some gun-toting sensei to the bastard son of Oliver Queen.  The kid was just sitting there, calm as you please, not even caring that his older "partner" was keeping the most important chunk of this little escapade from him.  Zen.  That's what you'd call it.  Oliver

Queen had sought it out after he decided that Green Arrow wasn't for playing judge, jury, and executioner.  For Eddie, it was an indifferent distinction - first as a United States Marine, then as a covert operative for the CIA, he had taken on all three roles nearly his entire adult life.  He couldn't even remember when death stopped keeping him up at night.  Speak softly and carry your own scythe.

 

But closer inspection revealed a few of the chinks in Connor's seemingly serene armor.  Eddie snuck a glance from the corner of his eye and snorted.  The Queen genes had run true against the odds.  Connor retained the coppery skin and lean, wiry build of his mother's heritage, but such features only served to highlight his shock of blond hair and

classic smile.  It was a hell of an inheritance.  Connor couldn't be served a meal or take a walk without having to duck from the barrage of phone numbers showered on him by admiring women.  And unlike his notorious father, the kid turned them all down with a polite smile.  That's the kind of upbringing you got by spending your formative years in a Buddhist monastery.  Eddie wondered how Connor would have reacted to the whores in Saigon.  Heh.  Now there's a thought.  All the meditation and philosophy in the world couldn't disguise Connor's natural energy and occasional hotheadedness.  Since hanging with Connor, Eddie had seen as much trouble as when......well....since he had hung

out with the original Green Arrow.

 

Eddie spotted the wrought iron gate before Connor and shifted the Jeep down into first.  "Heads up.  Here we go."

 

Connor squinted and tried to get a feel for the tree lined road behind the gate.  "Nice area.  This group looks well funded.  Do you want me to say anything?"

 

"Nope.  Follow my lead and play disaffected and naive."

 

"A real stretch."  Connor fingered the line of his bow lightly.

 

"Something like that."  The kid was laughing at him.  Well, he wouldn't be laughing soon.  Eddie caught the wave of camouflage even before he heard the cock of the .45.  Connor stared past him at the new arrival, looking for all the world like the surface of a still pond.  If one didn't notice his hand clutch around the bow.

 

Eddie didn't turn to look at the beefy man holding the Smith & Wesson to his temple.  "Nice way to great guests."

 

"State your business."

 

O.K., so no small talk.  "I have an invitation from Dubois."

 

The gun lowered.  "Wait for the gate to open, then drive slowly up to the house."

 

Connor stared at the man's retreated form in shock.  "He didn't even check."

 

Eddie snorted and took his foot off the break.  "Apparently the name is enough currency around here.  Fucking amateurs."

 

~oo00oo~

 

Everything was exactly as Eddie had anticipated.  The "compound" looked like a cross between a Moonie retreat and a cover shoot from American Mercenary.  It was basically a nicely turned-out upstate farmhouse surrounded by trailers and other prefab establishments.  Munitions were probably in the basement, along with the communications equipment.  He and Ollie had taken out more than a few of these cute little set-ups.   He grabbed his beat-up army duffel and motioned for Connor to get out of

the Jeep.  "Don't shoot anybody yet."

 

"I was about to tell you the same thing."

 

The frisking he and Connor had to endure gave him a chance to size up the muscle.  Military training on one, probably not even a self-defence course from the Y for the other.  If this was the best they could muster, he'd tell his friend that his daughter had less taste in her rebellions than common sense.  Interestingly enough, it was Connor that

made them nervous.  These idiots did profess to hate super-heroes - maybe having Connor come in looking like a member of the Teen Titans wasn't such a hot idea.  Anyway, he'd had enough of this particular dog and pony show.  "Can I see Dubois now?  Or are you guys going to have to buy me dinner?"

 

"Follow me."

 

Eddie slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and turned to Connor.  "Stay put."  He ignored the narrowing of the boy's green eyes behind his mask.  He had grade-A bad feeling starting and he didn't want any distractions.

 

He let the muscle lead him upstairs.  The place wasn't well kept up, obviously the funding didn't extend to creature comforts.  Eddie followed his escorts into the once-master bedroom, now set up to looking like something halfway between a respectable office and a college dorm room.

 

"You are Mr. Fyers?  Mr. Edward Fyers?"  The man standing by the window turned to face him.  Dressed in ripped fatigues, he was either ex-military or someone who wanted to give off that impression.

 

Eddie had no problems with giving his real name.  No one at this level would know it or make the important connections even if they did.  "That's right.  You Dubois?"

 

"Yes."  The man held out his hand for Eddie to shake but didn't smile. "You said you were coming alone.  If my files are correct, that young man downstairs is the new Green Arrow."

 

"He's the only Green Arrow and we travel together.  I hope that isn't a problem."

 

"I hope so too.  We try not to attract too much attention to ourselves unless it's on our terms."  Now Dubois's sunburned and lined face cracked into a smile.  He turned and waved toward a manila folder on the desk.  "I've taken the liberty of performing a background check.  Three tours of Vietnam.  You were either a very brave man or a very stupid one."

 

Eddie snorted.  The information given to Dubois was the truth, as much as was appropriate.  So was the analysis.  "Somebody had to do the job.  I was a pretty fair sniper."

 

Dubois leaned against the desk and fingered the sleeve of his jacket.  "You're too modest, Mr. Fyers.  Your scores place you among the best in the world."

 

It was time to lay down the hook.  "Best in the world, huh?  You tell me what that means in a world of freaks who can melt buildings with their eyes and run past the speed of sound.  I don't remember any of them marching next to me, watching their feet rot off in the jungle.  Might have gotten mud on their fancy tights."

 

"Strong words.  Especially when you've traveling companion seems to wear tights of his own."

 

The anger Eddie injected into his voice was partly real.  "Don't go comparing the kid to a bunch of metas.  He's pure human, and every skill he has, he earned."

 

Dubois walked over to Eddie and placed his hand on his shoulder.  "I didn't mean any offense.  You just told me what I wanted to know."  He turned and walked back to the window.  "You raise an interesting point when you talk about Vietnam.  One that has troubled me since I was a kid.  How is it that superhumans seem to only appear to save a baby from a burning building when the media is present?  If such people have the power of gods, why is it that mere humans all over the world live in hell?  Can you explain that to me Mr. Fyers?"

 

Because we make them gods.  Because we create our own hell.  "No, sir.  I surely can't.  I'm here because I heard from a few old marine buddies that maybe you had the answers I didn't."

 

"Maybe I do, Mr. Fyers.  Would you be interested in hearing them?"

 

Hook, line, and sinker.  This was a cakewalk.  "I'd like nothing better."

 

~oo00oo~

 

Connor quickly grew bored of waiting for Eddie.  He sat down on the porch of the main house and tried to ignore the suspicious and hostile glances from people walking by on the compound.  He would have liked to look for this girl, talked some sense into her, and gotten the hell out.  Eddie's 'connections' always seemed to bring more trouble than

they were worth.

 

He was abruptly jolted out of his thoughts by a woman's angry voice.  "Why do some men try and hide their hearts by hiding behind a mask?"

 

Connor looked up to see the short young woman standing beside him.  She was dressed in faded jeans and an old tee-shirt covered by an army jacket fully two sizes too big.  Her face, although devoid of make-up was round and attractive, but the two rings piercing her right eyebrow were an odd contrast to her soft features.  "I wear a mask to protect the people I love from the consequences of my actions."

 

The girl shifted her weight, the hostile expression never leaving her face.  "And I suppose the tights just happened to match?"

 

Connor tried some of Eddie's humor to try and diffuse her.  "You don't like the look?"

 

"Fancy costumes don't make people into something they're not.  All they do is  build freaks and pretenders up to be better than everyone else."

 

"I'm no better than anyone else.  I wear a costume as a symbol of the things my father fought for - the same things I fight for now.  Your jacket is military issue - why do you wear it?"

 

The woman hugged her coat around her defiantly.  "To remind myself of what I believe in."

 

"Then I guess we're not so different."  He held out his hand.  "My name is Connor.

 

She hesitated before matching his grip.  "Elise.  Sorry I came on strong a minute ago.  We're not real big on 'superheros' around here."

 

"I hardly think I qualify."

 

"That's a good thing, believe me."  Elise ran her hand through her hair self-consciously.  "God, I'm totally forgetting my manners here - do you want to come inside?  I can show you around, we're always open to new recruits.  I just joined myself about a month or two ago."

 

"I'd appreciate it."  Eddie would have to wait.  If he was supposed to start fitting in, he could hardly stand on the porch all day.

 

 

Eddie slung his duffel over his shoulder and followed Dubois down the stairs, feeling immensely pleased with himself.  All my ideas should go over this smooth, he thought sourly.  His host's voice caught him slightly unaware.

 

"I see your young friend is already making himself at home."

 

Eddie looked up to see Connor already deep in conversation with Colonel Baker's daughter.  That didn't disturb him, hell with Ollie that kind of a coincidence would have been par for the course.  It was the balding man in the cheap suit who looked like nothing more than a bottom-rung CPA that nearly caused him to lose his game.  The pudgy bastard was looking at Connor with a speculation that made Eddie's blood run cold.  If Truman was involved, this whole little expedition had just been complicated beyond a factor of ten.

 

Par for the course.  Fuck.

--

**Alexandra Nigro**