Green Arrow Gets Deathstroked Chapter 1: Midnight in the Arboretum Evan Andrews 2023
This is a fan fiction.
The characters in this story are based on characters belonging to and trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. This story exists outside of any DC continuity I'm familiar with.
This story should in no way be considered a true representation of the true sexuality of any of the original characters.
The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
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The man (clothed in forest green jerkin, tights and hood) silently slid through the undergrowth of the City Arboretum. It was the middle of the night, and the glow from the surrounding buildings simply made the shadows beneath the trees all the darker. Though tame (unlike the woods of the man's nightmares) this stand of exotic timber had a touch of wildness to it still, which was perhaps why the enemy had chosen to conceal himself here.
The com riding on his ear buzzed, and Oliver Queen, the vigilante known as the Green Arrow, touched the device.
"What?" he breathed, irked. Did the words `radio silence' mean nothing anymore?
"Ollie, are you sure Deathstroke's hiding out in this place?" said the Arrow's former partner, originally Speedy and now Arsenal but always Roy Harper behind the mask.
"That's what Iggy the Snitch said."
"Then he's hiding really well," Roy said. "If you weren't so all fired sure, I could be convinced he isn't and never was here."
The young hero had possessed that cavalier attitude as long as Ollie had known him.
"Slade's one of the world's top assassins for a reason, Roy. Now, get off the air and get back to your hunting."
"Roger that," Roy said, ending the conversation. Usually Ollie got in the last word, but he let the cocky redhead have it-- this time. And just this time. Ollie got back to his own part of the hunt, but the Arboretum was quiet--or at least as quiet as such a place could be, surrounded as it was by the city. Not only light, but noise intruded, making tracking as skilled an opponent as Deathstroke all the more difficult.
`But Roy's right. What the hell is Wilson doing lurking in such a place?' Ollie thought to himself as he continued his search.
The archer was nearly done with his zone when things started to go south. Roy, in spite of his orders to keep off the com, kept trying to engage Connor, Ollie's blood son, in talk-- under the guise, of course, of coordinating their searches.
"I've done with Peter Pan's Grotto," Roy said, but when he got no response Roy's tone changed.
"Connor, did you copy that?" Roy asked.
Connor had always been quiet, more serious and more focused, than his Team Arrow brother, but then Connor had never before failed but to react to that old quip about his being Ollie's Peter Pan.
`I knew I should have kept the Grotto as part of my own search zone,' Ollie thought.
"Connor?" Roy asked again, but still there was no reply.
"Uh, Ollie, are you hearing this?" Roy asked, a touch of panic in his voice. "I can't raise Connor!"
"The way you've been broadcasting, he probably gave up and shut his com off," Ollie snarled. "Where are you?"
"The Green," Roy said. "By the Lodge."
"Then take cover, just in case, and stay there. I'm on my way."
Ollie switched his com over to a private channel (one Roy didn't have access to) and said, "Connor? Are you okay?"
There was no reply, and now Ollie was definitely worried. Even though Connor had on occasion stood in as the Green Arrow when Ollie was laid up, the young man really didn't have the cynical edge it took to face a villain as ruthless as Slade Wilson. Ollie should never had let Connor patrol on his own--except, that would have been a great way to alienate him. Ollie never possessed the same ease of dealing with partners or sidekicks that other heroes did. Although Roy was the best example of that, every member of Team Arrow had lost it over Ollie's attitude one time or another. Felicity still had the forest green t-shirt that read `I'm condescending-- that means I talk down to people', and she pulled it out when her patience wore thin.
"Roy," Ollie said, switching back to the common channel again, "Where was Connor when you last heard from him?"
Roy didn't respond, and that clicked all of Ollie's `we have a situation' buttons. Roy always replied, unless he was physically unable to. So that meant...
Crap.
If Roy was famous for running his mouth, Ollie was famous for throwing caution to the wind far too often. Shouldering his bow, the Emerald Archer sprinted between the trees in the general direction of the Green, a general sporting field where the city (probably in honor of Team Arrow) had put in an archery range a decade or so back. Ollie, under his secret identity, had been one of the sponsors, so he knew the place well. But Ollie's mind was in a turmoil—this was not how Slade did things.
Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, liked his guns—at least he did when he wasn't going in mano a mano. Ollie hadn't heard a gun in the Arboretum that night, and Slade only went to hand to hand when he meant to subdue an opponent. That should have left the boys with enough time to get a warning off, yet there had been nothing but silence on all channels. If they had been subdued by Slade, then things were very not good.
Out of breath, Ollie broke out into the open of the Green. Across the way, by the fountains, he saw some guys that reeked of henchman (yeah, even Slade used them on occasion) loading a limp body into the back of a Humvee. The city lights shown on the man's red clothing, so Ollie figured they had captured Roy. (Why Roy wore that damned red suit when stealth was called for, Ollie had never figured out. Probably it went as far back as the costume he had adopted back in his Speedy days; Ollie and the Batman had assumed dark, sneak through the night, garb, but their sidekicks had gone for bright reds and yellows—Robin's green trunks didn't count. At least Connor had gone for green. Still, you didn't make to abduct one of the Green Arrow's boys without the Arrow taking it out of your hide.
Sprinting across the field, Ollie was sufficiently distracted that he didn't notice the bowman taking aim at him. There was a twang and a swish, and Ollie heard the whisper of the arrow as it whizzed past him.
`Hah! Missed me!' Ollie thought, but, before he could realize that Slade never used bows, the hook on the end of the line trailing the arrow caught in his boot. The arrow (another fucking trick arrow, Ollie realized too late), reached the end of its tether and proceeded to whip back around. Again and again it flew around him, in smaller and smaller circles until it had his lower legs all wound up. Waving his arms for balance, Ollie managed to remain upright until something flashed in his face, blinding him. Just after that, something struck him across the back of his knees, and the Emerald Archer went down.
Ollie fell to his knees, but someone landed on top of him, bearing him the rest of the way to the ground, where they started pounding him with heavy fists. The archer tried to defend himself—to no avail.
"Slade...!" Ollie yelled, but he got off only that one word before the man on his back pulled his head up and shoved a gag into his mouth. Buckled straps held the red rubber ball in place around the vigilante's head.
Slade's numerous henchmen piled onto the archer then, grabbed the blinded Ollie's wrists, and cuffed his hands behind his back. The man on the archer's back then forced a bag over his head to serve as a blindfold, just in case his vision returned. Straps around Ollie's chest made the Archer's arms fast to his torso, and another set cinched his ankles together. The final indignity (or so Ollie thought at that moment) was fixing mittens over his hands.
"Ah!," the man on Ollie's back smirked. "My all-time favorite enemy, gift-wrapped for his coming out party."
The man behind the voice slapped Ollie's muscular butt, and then said, "Put him in the Hummer with the other two."
Even if Ollie hadn't recognized the voice, he definitely would have known that swat. Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator, master assassin, really did have him in his power.
`Oh fuck, this is not good,' Ollie thought.
Hands drug the wriggling Ollie across the grass and, hefting him, tossed him into the back of the Humvee between two other bodies. As Slade's men cleaned up the crime scene, Ollie was able to identify the bodies as Roy and Connor. He had no idea why they weren't fighting to get free, but at least they were alive.
One of his captors, Slade presumably, crawled on top of Ollie, straddling his legs, and administered an injection into the archer's beefy ass. Presumably he had already shot up Connor and Roy.
"That one was to get you in the mood, little buddy," Slade said, rubbing Ollie's butt. Then another hypodermic penetrated the archer's other gluteus maximus.
"This one is to keep you quiet during our little trip. Nighty night, Green Arrow. See you when you wake up."