Summary:A stroll through the Park is never simple, especially when it includes a mugging followed by a misunderstanding. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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"The night was cold and dark. It was one of those nights where you can't seem to find your way, no matter how much you tried. Packing his bag he walked through the strip lighting…who writes this garbage?"
Min closes her phone, letting the ebook fade with the light it offers. Not exactly bright here either, she thinks. A quick shake of the head offers no insight as to which direction to go, not that it matters too overly. New York is huge, and there's a lot to see.
"So, apartment, check. Lunch in da belleh, check. Using English, doublecheck." She quickly spouts off a curse in Korean, her features backing up the guess that she might not be local, as she slaps her hips and decides to move.
A hand on her shoulder suggests otherwise. "Dat was a nice phone, kid," some guy says. Some guy with a large hand, and a scar. "Nice camera too. Mind if we see dem?" He seems to be asking. He isn't, as he reaches for the camera on Min's lap.
Damnit, she thinks. I should have made running shoes, not these freaking wedgies. "Um, I need that." Her voice seems to think that she's scared, as she tries to keep ahold of the expensive camera. The one thing she owns that's HERS.
"Um. Help?"
Jogging through the park is one of the few public activities that Oliver can enjoy alone. During the day he's up to his eyeballs in boardrooms and paperwork, or hiding in his office to take naps. At night, he's general busy with other activities. Most of the time, his workouts are contained to the contraptions he keeps hidden away under Verdant.
Which brings us to his jog, though most people might think of it more in the range of a marathon. He's just passing his ninth mile when he spots a flicker of movement. He removes his headphones and pauses long enough to catch a few unsavory sounds, then lets out a quiet sigh. "No rest for the wicked."
A few seconds later, he's approaching the pair that are discussing a camera's ownership rights. He looks more or less like any other jogger, save for his workout gear is more expensive than most and he's picked an unlikely time and place for a run. "Hey, guys!" the young CEO calls out cheerfully, blundering in and adding a witness to the equation. "How's it going?"
Yanking the camera from the small asian chick's hands, the guy looks up at the newcomer. He's got a scar over his nose, it's super attractive and probably has all the babes in his stable. Seriously though he's a big man and he looks tough. He also looks like he's robbing someone.
The lady, looking Korean if a person's guess is accurate, yells "Hey!" and tries to snatch the thing, glaring daggers. She starts to talk but gets a slap across her face, ending her chance to Charm the guy…not that anyone would be aware of the attempt.
The fall off the bench she was on, highly visible though.
The man, with his friend in the shadows behind him, laughs. Then says to Oliver, "None o' your business dude. Walk away." They don't, ready to continue robbing. Or fight. Either or, really.
"Hey!" That one word is all Oliver spares time for. Despite having been pushing himself for the better part of an hour, he crosses the space between himself and the young lady with remarkable speed. Now he's standing directly in front of her and there's no mistaking his intentions. You shall not pass.
"See, I was going to pretend to stumble across you guys, then you were supposed to pretend you weren't robbing this nice girl." His eyes narrow and he seems apparently unperturbed by squaring off with two men of equal or larger size, both of whom are probably a lot fresher than he is. "Nobody needs to get hurt, here. Just give back whatever you took. You okay?" The last question is for the girl, who he holds a hand out toward without looking away from the muggers.
The guys look at Oliver. They're close enough to their roots to know when a real threat is present, and Oliver hits a LOT of buttons. Confidence, the ability to move like he just did, all of that.
One guy pushes the other, then motions to the woods. Run away? The other puffs up, holding the camera firmly. Ill gotten booty will not be given up, not for one man. The girl doesn't even count.
Which is why this works.
"You should put the camera down," she says, her voice in a cadence. "You can pick it up after, don't want to break it in the fight…"
The fact that the guy actually stops, then puts it down by a tree is….amazing. That is not normal behaviour. "Yer right. Bitch." Okay that is. And then the other guy pulls out a crowbar, advancing on Oliver. He's not a talker, he's a swinger. And he played baseball once from the way the bar swings at Ollie's chest.
Once the victim is on her feet, Oliver reaches into his pocket and sighs. "Look, you can't expect to hock that for more than… two, three hundred dollars? Here's five."
It seems like an equitable enough arrangement to him. Nobody gets hurt, he goes back to his jog with a minimum of fuss. Hopefully. Or maybe not. Nope, probably not. Everybody's tensing up, including Oliver. And now there's a crowbar, but not before… carefully setting down the camera?
Seeing the crowbar doesn't seem to bother Oliver overmuch. He leans back and lets it SWISH by just a few inches away from his face, then launches a fist that's still clutching hundred dollar bills at his attacker's kidney. It's not a very nice punch that's intended for not a very nice man.
The money actually makes the guy who isn't in the fight yet super-interested. He leans to try and grab it, saying a colloquial "Gimme'at," with all the charm and grace of a ballet dancer in a rave. He misses, of course he misses. But when he sees his partner go down in one hit, legs giving out underneath him he backs off.
Just a step or two, his eyes locked on Oliver. So he entirely misses seeing the girl slip, slowly and carefully, toward the camera. She slips on her hands and knees toward it, her coat darkening and her skin as well. A slight change, one that might be missed, but she gets…harder to see.
And her hand reaches for the camera, as the remaining guy takes up a boxing stance. Closed guard. "You're good," he says. "Maybe we take this seriously. Or you drop that money, take th' girl. Walk away."
"Fine. Take the money." But instead of handing it over, Oliver throws the handful of c-notes at the other man's face, which gives him a chance to put some space between them. "Disappear. Now."
Without bothering further with either the man or the money, Ollie starts looking around for the girl. He'd seen her wriggling away out of the corner of his eye, but then something odd happened that he can't quite put a finger on. The natural assumption is that he was looking in the wrong direction, so he spins around to continue his search, still with one wary eye on the two muggers. "Leave the crowbar," he says to them as an afterthought. "You just sold it to me."
Oh you'll get the crowbar, the guy says under his breath. Low enough that a less observant person might not hear it. But someone with, say, enhanced senses. Or someone like Green Arrow. See, they'd notice.
So when the crowbar flies across the room, aimed at Ollie's knees from behind, the 'girl' shouts out "Lookout!" and the other guy, the one with the kidney injury, comes lumbering after.
The other guy? He's got a handful of hundreds, and a brick. Seems they want what else Rich Boy has in his wallet. Camera be damned, he is WAY more appealing a target.
Thankfully, there's enough commotion during its flight for Oliver to avoid the crowbar. That would've hurt. "Thank you!" he calls out cheerfully in response to the warning.
"And you two!" He chides the muggers during their approach. "Don't be greedy. Eat what's on your plate."
There's a measured glance in the direction the voice had come from, but Ollie still hasn't laid eyes on the young woman in question since she disappeared. He hooks a toe under the crowbar, which has gotten tangled in the grass, and flicks it up into his hand. Then, the epitome of cheek, he sends it winging back toward its owner. It's a pretty hard throw, too.
CLANG. Clang? The crowbar bouncing off the guy's chest makes a lot more noise than might be normal, but he still goes down like normal. That's twice the guy has been hit, and it looks like he's down for the count. The other guy starts sweating, he's seen how easily Ollie took out his friend. He looks at his hand, holding enough money for the day. He seems to be trying to think with what passes for a brain, when…
"Just run away. Take your friend, he's hurt. He needs you."
The guy stops, cold. He stops advancing on Ollie, then frowns. "…yeah. Yeah, yeah," he says. A true vitrioso of eloquence, but he stops, backs away, still staring at Oliver. Not looking at the girl.
Then he leans down to check his friend, grabbing him. Dragging him toward the bushes.
It's over.
"That… went well." Oliver seems pleased, but more than a little surprised to see them running off without more of a scuffle. He lets out a puff of air from between pursed lips and turns to look around once again. Once he has an eye on Ms. Camera, he raises a brow inquisitively. "Hey. You alright? It looked like they caught you pretty good when I was walking up."
He appears none the worse for wear, if a bit puzzled as to some of tonight's events. Then again, he's seen much stranger.
Super normal, she has a smile on her face. Then, as if she's just remembered to be scared, the girl wraps her arms around herself, the smile vanishing. Camera in hand, she must've rescued it from the ground at some point. Her skin, normal. Outfit, the same as before. Nothing amiss.
So why is she acting screwy?
"I am from Korea," she says. Ah that …might..explain it. "Yes, I am very well. Now you saved me." Bullshit, she was speaking better before. Liar.
But she's clearly alright, so that's a good start. As the guys vanish into the bushes, not to return.
"Uh huh." Oliver suppresses a laugh, but barely. "Yes, you are from Korea. I'm glad you're okay. You should keep your valuables out of sight when you're in the Park, though. Especially if you're not in a crowd."
He's not buying the act, but then again she's not doing the best job of selling it. "Anyway, I didn't save you. Adrenaline from the run, you know. And I got lucky. Plus, I've seen Rocky a bunch of times."
Now who's not selling? Oliver, that's who. Even he winces at his excuses, but he still smiles gamely.
That's when she turns that voice on him. That slightly odd cadence, that …ability…that made the men do things. "Thank you, that is good advice." No commands, she's worming her way in, he might be able to feel it. Defenses would stop her, if he spots it in time.
Then it comes, once she's got the power flowing. "You don't think I'm strange, do you?" No. No, she's quite normal. Nice smile, nice skin. Good kid. Then she slips up, adds, "Also maybe you could tell me who you are?" That one is dangerous.
Mental defenses, any kind, would stop it. If he's trained in them.
Oliver cocks his head briefly to the side, just a fraction, looking an awful lot like a dog that's heard a far-off sound and is trying to identify it. After a moment he blinks, then glances back at his new friend. "No, you seem normal enough to me. I was worried you might've gotten hurt."
Now that the crisis has passed, he nods in the direction of the path he'd been on. It's a wordless invitation to head out with him, albeit at a walk this time. "My name's Oliver. Oliver Queen. What's yours?"
Whew. It worked. American minds are tough, though! He's tough. She makes a mental note not to try that on him again. Disciplined minds are hard to influence. She's so distracted she gives her real name. "Song Min," she says, omitting the last name as Koreans generally do. Family name, first name, middle. So her name is Min. She winces inwardly then continues.
"I am a photographer, Queen." She motions with her camera. "May I offer you a picture? I can email it to you. Yes I know how to email." Duh.
"You know how to email, that's adorable. Oh, you want take a selfie? Sure, of course. Most people just do it with their phone." It's an understandable mistake on Oliver's part, as it's not an uncommon request for him to get. Kind of a weird situation, but he's had weirder. And so he moves closer and reaches out to put his arm around Song (Min). "How are you going to know if… you know what, you're a photographer. I trust you. Let's get you some Instagram followers."
The hesitation is obvious, as Min fails utterly to predict what the American will do. She finds herself in the strangest situation, nobody would ever put their arm round her like this…
Deep breath. Selfie. You know what he wants, okay. "Moment," she says. Then she fiddles with her camera, turns on the timer, and places it down. Then gets back in with him, adding some light effects to the scene automatically.
His smile is brighter. His face is lit perfectly. And she looks a little less nervous than she really does. The fact that all these things are visible when the camera flashes, all rookie mistakes.
But it makes for a good shot.