Summary:Detective Aguilar has been missing for a week. Anonymous cops put out the call, Green Arrow answers. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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ONE WEEK AGO:
NYPD is a large precinct; and if most of the commissioners who were there in their time would have it, they would have wanted it to be a skyrise and all of the cops in the burroughs would have been stationed there. But alas, that wasn't the case. Detectives that work out of ONE PP were not of the elite, but they were considered something and near snobbish to those elsewhere. It was also, shockingly enough, a hub of inner-corruption that no one would ever think to bat an eye at.
Detective Ramos, a fifteen year homicide detective was murdered while he slept at home. His wife and children left the house that night to head to her mothers. Ramos was due to join them after he finished paperwork on a case.
Detective Clarke was another fatality. Killed while answering a domestive violence call. Both the suspect and victim were not at the scene and could not be located. If ever. The main thing that those two cops had in common was that they were either seen, filed a report, spoke to, or either stood next to someone in IA.
Much like Detective Marisol Aguilar-Orroyo.
Her instance was a bit different, in the fact that she was a damn good cop. And whenever IA has 'talks' with a damn good cop, it raises suspicion. Unfortunately, it was not like what others throught. Detective Simms was often seen hanging around Marisol's desk, talking and offering up random banter, using code words with her which would make her smile. Others thought it was a budding romance, some thought it was a ploy. The wrong people, that is, thought it was a ploy.
Richard and Marisol grew up together, and once he transferred to One PP, the best friends reconnected and often hung out.
Cue the current situation, Marisol was called by her CI, Miguel, to meet him at an undisclosed location. He had intel on a drug deal that shockingly enough (not really) would happen at the docks later that night. Unwise, Marisol went alone, leaving her gun and badge in the car. Marisol was taken.
Marisol hadn't been seen that entire week.
The police were abuzz with chatter, no one knew where she was, and those in most of the NYPD didn't bother to look. And that was because they were afraid. Afraid of what they would find or what would happen to them and their families if they stuck their nose into the business of IA and the cops who frequented the lower echelons of the precinct. Afraid that due to what the rumorsof Marisol is, it would come home to roost.
But there was always that one or small few who had connections. Who knew to do the Right Thing(tm), so a quiet word was put out onto the dark web, targetting vigilantes. They need help. Marisol was quietly treasured and one of their own. And if someone were to investigate.. all points would lead to…
Word gets around, especially where the Green Arrow is concerned. Though he's been around the city for a while, most consider him a rumor or ghost story. Still, for a few, he's something very real. He relies on these few people to keep him in the know, especially when the police are involved. And so, through rumors that led to tips that finally turned to solid leads, the vigilante has found his way to a den of iniquity that's being used as a place to store a kidnapped police officer.
There's a soft HISS, THUNK, and WHIRR. It's the sound of him firing a grappling arrow into the overhang of a rooftop, then reeling himself up the attached line until he reaches a likely vantage point. Once he's situated, he pulls out a compact pair of binoculars and starts to scan the surrounding area. There's not much time for recon, but at least a cursory inspection is called for. Unplanned frontal assaults are how brave heroes become dead bodies.
Contrary to what people might expect, nothing about the Green Arrow is larger than life. He's tall, but not unreasonably so. He's broad of shoulder, but no more than many men who spend a more than average amount of time at the gym.
The green, though. The outfit is a deep, rich, green that's reminiscent of the forest at night. Hood. Pants. Jacket. Gloves. It's all made of leather, with the telltale flatness of Kevlar showing here and there. The hood is pulled low enough to conceal his eyes and the bridge of his nose, leaving only his mouth, jaw, and chin visible. Occasionally, the hood will ride high enough to expose a band of green grease paint that covers his face from brows to cheekbones, further obscuring his features.
The outside of the building where Marisol was being kept was nothing to look at. Nothing that would fall under the 'bad guy' territory; just a large, functional building that sets upon a large parcel with parking spaces. All brick with no windows, save for in the back, which is lit considerably. Some of the windows are covered with newspaper or cardboard, or a thin film that would keep the light in, though there are a few missed spots and shattered glass here and there.
While it could have looked like a place to set up a great drug deal in, it was empty, save for the figure of a few Latin Kings who drag a woman who wore chains to a chair that was parked there.
She was quiet, hair matted, head down, the stains of blood on her t-shirt. There were cuts here and there that looked as if she had been there for a week as mentioned, her jeans were torn and ratted, matted with blood and dirt.
"Oy.. chica.." One of the men say, obviously the ringleader. "Wake-y Wake-y. Eggs and bake-y."
It was almost like a scene out of Altered Carbon, though this one was comprised of switch-blades and brass knuckles. One of the other men slap Marisol, who's head snaps to the side, eye revealed to be swollen, lips chapped and busted.
"Fuck you.." Marisol manages to weakly say, as all the men around her laugh. Most of them weren't going to sit there, their job was done. They brought Marisol to her CI, and to the man that was ultimately going to kill her.
"You're a good one, Brook." Her CI says. "That's why we kept you alive for so long. But I'm telling you girl, you gotta talk, just tell them -something-!" He pleads. "Hey. HEY!" He reaches over to snap at her chin, attempting to keep her eyes focused.
"Alls you gotta do is tell me if anyone else is informing on the Latin Kings, okay? Or just tell us if there's a case. Who are the pigs that are looking at us, alright?"
The ring-leader, heads towards the table to pick up a blade. It was thin, almost as if it were meant to shear the scale off of fish. "The punta won't talk, then I'll make her scream."
Typical villain talk..
Though the sight lines aren't the best, notes are made of as many details as possible. The Arrow can see just well enough to mark a few of the occupants, and to be able to tell there are more that he can't see through the slits and cracks. Then they drag out the woman and it's time to get the show on the road.
Once he's finished with his observation, the archer stows his field glasses and readies his bow again. Another grappling arrow, this one used to descend. Unfortunately, with a cop's life on the line, there's no room for fancy plans. Barely more than a green shadow, he swoops down to a balcony and quietly opens an exterior door on the second floor. His strategy is simple. Eliminate as many as he can without raising any alarms, then improvise. Brave heroes make dead bodies, but seconds could matter at this point.
Once he's inside, he retrieves his grapple and knocks a fresh arrow that has a broad, wicked head. Then, with his bowstring half-drawn, he slides down a hallway in search of his first target.
They were spread out relatively easily. Only about ten men save for the two with Marisol, all spread out to do their duties as they wait for the cop to die. One, which was nearer to Oliver, remained in the hallway speaking on the phone to his girlfriend, promising he'll be home before midnight to 'put her to bed'. The other was nearby, waiting for the man to get off of the phone, so that he could borrow his lighter to smoke. At least he was polite.
A few were scattered here and there, in the room where they kept Marisol, contents of her week stay were taken out and disposed of; bloody sheets, a bucket, a pillow.. damaged rope. A tray of food, in which they served her a steady diet of rotten tapas and beans, was taken out as well. They spared expense and kindness for cops..
There were a few voices in the background.. then silence.. and a blood curtling scream due to a slice upon her thigh through her jeans, clearly testing the sharpness of the blade.
The scream reminds the Green Arrow that he's running short on time to make all this happen. When he encounters the first pair, he draws back and releases his arrow, aiming for the narrow space between the wrist bone's just below the hand of a man holding a phone. Before it's halfway to the target, he has taken off at a blistering sprint and launched a thunderous punch at the second man, the one with a cigarette in his mouth.
It's relatively tidy. One thug unconscious, the other with his hand pinned to a wall and unlikely to be going anywhere anytime soon. He has just enough time for a shrill yelp before a green glove clamps over his mouth and a hooded head shakes a quick negative. "Shh. How many more?" an artificially deepened and roughened voice asks, then the hand lifts away. "Quietly."
"…eight.." It took the man a minute to think, and it was due to confusion and really, who the fuck was this hooded robot anyways?!
Meanwhile, the CI stands aside as the leader works his torture. Marisol was already feeling the pain, her cut leg bouncing rapidly to bring herself comfort. "See? Sharp as ever. All we want are names, chica. And we'll let you go.."
"That's.. BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT!" Marisol cries out, even though there were tears forming in her eyes. "Paco.. PACO look at me.." She pleaded with her CI. "You know that as soon as this bendejo is done with me, he'll fucking kill you too!"
That warrants a full on punch, right to her jaw, which dazes her.
"Shut the fuck up.." He says coldly, then drags the blade across her belly, drawing out another scream…
The sounds of agony carry. The vigilante winces and turns his head to the side, for a moment feeling that pain and remembering it vividly. Then, without another word, he knocks out the helpful hooligan and moves on.
Eight is a manageable number. The press of his approach speeds to a jog, then a run. Two more criminals are floored with arrows to the knee and shoulder in quick succession. Seconds aren't wasted on silencing them, and they aren't shy about broadcasting their injuries to their fellows.
And so, amidst a great deal of noise and confusion, Green Arrow drops from the rafters and lands right in the center of the torture session. Immediately, he slams a smoke pellet against the floor and uses the resulting cloud as cover while he works on freeing the police officer he came for. "Relax," he growls. "I'm getting you out of here."
"Fuck it, just get it over with." The CI says. The leader was all for this, and moves to step around behind her. The blade was ready, pressed at the nape of her neck. It was going to be mercy there, since they put her through the gamut the entire week. Quick. Not clean. And very messy.
The smoke bomb wasn't something that they prepared themselves for. The men had heightened adrenaline, Marisol had less. Her head was already hung forward, breathing raggedly. The men took quick inhales while they spoke. Those quick inhales would be their downfall; the leader falls back and into a coughing fit, the CI does the same. He couldn't see, his eyes were watering and his face covered. The leader was upon the ground, attempting to get his bearings.
As the Green Arrow releases Marisol, she couldn't move. But she was wise enough to hit the ground in attempts to crawl. It was like a crime scene, blood from her belly and leg dragging upon the floor, keeping low.. attempting to escape from freedom. She was delirious and unable to walk..
The others? Full bodied.
"What the fuck was that!?!" The leader hollared through the commotion, but no answer would come, the CI was already attempting to flee.
Also hugging the floor, the Arrow pulls a syringe from his pocket. "Brace yourself," he advises, whispering. It's not a small needle and it's filled with a potent stimulant. Unceremoniously, he stabs the officer in the meat of her thigh and presses the plunger.
When the CI blunders into him, the vigilante wraps the man in a choke hold and silently lowers him to the ground. He was carrying a pistol, which is handed to Marisol. "Watch our six."
His meaning quickly becomes clear when he hauls her up and drapes her across one shoulder with her head dangling down toward his back. She'll be able to watch the rear while he keeps an eye out in front of them. By now, the smoke is starting to clear. "Get ready. I'm going to make a break for it."
"What?" Marisol didn't know what from what. What she did know was the stab of the needle into her thigh, which felt like every inch of her was awakened, on fire with life. If she could have stood, she would have. If she knew what that serum was doing to her and how she could have controlled it, she would have too. But her powers had nothing to do in this situation, save for making the once brown iris' white.
As he grapples with the CI, there was no question she was to take the gun. Laying upon her side, she pulls back the top half to ensure that a bullet was loaded and ready. Snapping it back and switching off the safety, she keeps the gun close to her body, her finger off the trigger as she's lifted.
"Got it."
Once the smoke clears, her teeth were gritted at the ready. She looked almost zombie-like, stark white eyes staring into the darkness, keeping her gun leveled and prepared to shoot as soon as she's able. "I don't know who you are, but I'm sorry." Sorry, mostly for bleeding all over his shoulder..
"No apologies." With one arm holding Marisol around her hips, Green Arrow is unable to effectively use his signature weapon, so the bow is stowed and he switches over to the tranquilizer darts he wears strapped around his wrist. Lucky, they were designed to be drawn and thrown one-handed.
There's little finesse to his exit strategy. As soon as he can see the nearest exterior door, he takes off for it with his long legs propelling them faster than most people could run unburdened, much less while carrying another person. He's got a dart at the ready, but for the moment their path doesn't seem to be barred. Whoever's left that's willing and able to stop them must be at the rear.
And at the rear they were.
The CI was down for the count; there was no chance of him getting up to come after them. The leader however, was already shouting out orders to whomever was available. Get after that hooded bastard and that bitch cop. They were -dead-.
The first of the Kings round the corner, drawing his weapon to fire. Marisol catches him, her aim not perfect, but striking him in the belly which sends him down.
And then another. One was already spraying bullets which she returns fire. She may not have gotten him, but he had seemed to back off. One more rounds the corner and fires a shot, which catches her shoulder, ripping through her left arm. Thankfully, she didn't need that arm anymore, she fired a shot which struck him between the teeth, killing him easily.
She could barely keep herself upright, the blood loss was beginning to get a little great, and silently, she wished for salvation..
There's a grunt when the bullet not only penetrates Marisol's arm, but impacts against a layer of green Kevlar and mushrooms. It's painful, but not crippling. Then a second bullet hits the vigilante from behind, tearing through the seam between two armor panels above his waist and off to one side. He falters, but stays upright.
When he reaches the door, the Arrow bursts through it without slowing down. Outside, he has a nondescript black sedan waiting for their exfiltration. He sets the officer down on the passenger side and says, "Get in."
He's already on his way around to the driver's seat, but he pauses to attach a high-explosive grenade to an arrow with a zip-tie. Crude, but effective. As soon as he sees the door start to swing open again, he fires the improvised rocket, more as a deterrent than anything else.
Marisol only had a few seconds to enter into the vehicle! As he puts her down she lets out a slight squeal, the door yanking open and the woman falling inside. The door wasn't closed just yet, Marisol had her eyes upon the door and as soon as it opens, her arm slings forward and a few shots were delivered, more detterrent for them to back off.
She couldn't tell if the door was going to explode, or if more bullets were to follow, she snatches the door shut and slumps down into the seat, using the metal to cover her head as she begins to breathe. "What was in that shit you gave me?!" She asks, her eyes wide. She could feel everything warping, -her- everything. So much so that if a car light or battery were on, it would flicker.
"Don't worry. It's organic." There's no groaning, but the Green Arrow lowers himself gingerly into the driver's seat. A quick turn of the key, then they're peeling away from the scene while more bullets rattle off the car's armored exterior. Someone came prepared.
They're in a vehicle, no one else already is, and their wheelman is a vigilante who studied maps and traffic patterns until he knew the surrounding streets by heart. One would think a getaway would be assured, but the driver is still vigilant and keeps his eyes on the mirrors during their exodus. "You're injured," he growls. "I'm going to take you to a secure location and stabilize you. A hospital may not be safe for you right now."
Marisol tried to calm her breathing, sinking upright in the seat, feeling smart enough to draw the seat backwards as she writhes. Her hand clutches her thigh, the other holds onto her belly. The cups were deep enough to 'look' life threatening, though left untreated..
"No secure locations.. I want to go to a hospital…" Fuck if it's being safe.. it's just what's sanitary and not to mention, protocol. She was a cop first and foremost, it was in her identity.
"I can get myself there if you.." She grits her teeth, her eyes widening again.. the car was 'close' to shorting out through that burst of pressure she felt. She was losing it..
"..I think I'm going to die.." True delirium, not to mention, fear. She survived an entire week.. but she was sure that she wasn't going to survive this. "..I need you to listen to me. My name is Detective Marisol Aguliar-Orroyo, I live at 298 Hopkins, my badge number is.. 5342.."
The vigilante makes a sharp left turn and shakes his head. "No hospitals," he disagrees. "NYPD may be compromised. I didn't save you so a dirty cop could kill you while you sleep."
He's apparently satisfied that they aren't being followed, as the next turn takes them down a street that's lined with abandoned buildings in such a state of disrepair that even the squatters avoid them. A concealed ramp leads to a long, straight tunnel that eventually dumps out into a garage occupied by a green motorcycle and a military surplus helicopter.
The engine is cut, then Green Arrow steps out of the vehicle and limps his way around to the passenger's side. "Stay calm. After I patch you up, I need you to do something for me. Then you can go wherever you want, but I'd suggest you talk to someone on the force who you trust."
It wasn't like she was in much need to argue. The loss of blood made her lethargic, her head rolled back and forth as he whips around corners, all the while she holds on to the door brace to try to keep herself focused. But, she was losing consciousness, keepinga grip on her teeth until they stop.. she notices the few items that were there, and couldn't for the life of her remember the path that was taken. The car draws itself to a stop, and he was already out, his words fading in and out, yet the only thing she could mutter was..
"Uh huh.."
She fought to keep her mind working, and at this point she was clearly ready to agree to clear all of his parking tickets on the fly. But..paranoia.. find someone she could trust.. someone could have killed her while she slept.. she was ready to panic, even fight Oliver as soon as the door opened, but she could barely lift a finger, her body was dead weight.
As she swoons, the Arrow catches the officer and slings her over his shoulder again. "Relax," he urges. "You're safe as long as you're with me."
It's a short trip to his hideout's med bay, which is well-equipped if not particularly inviting in appearance. Once she's laid out on an exam table, he allows himself a moment to breathe and estimate his own injuries. Painful, but not critical. He also hasn't been in captivity for a week, so he redirects his attention to Marisol and gives her a thorough visual inspection.
"I need to put in an IV," he informs her. "And then treat that gunshot wound. Are you still awake?"
Short trip, Mari didn't even know that she was moving. The lights are what had woken her up, and being exposed as she was. The pain was all coming back. Her leg, maybe the nerves were severed, her belly, how pulling at her shirt made the dried blood stick to the fabric, probably pulling it free so that she can bleed again. The gunshot wound..
..it hit her like a ton of bricks.
Even him asking if she was still awake had her groaning, her teeth clenched as she rolls off to her side. Delirium still, she was going to die, right? So the only answer she could really give him, was name.. rank… title.. badge number.. and home address.
"I know," he replies. "298 Hopkins. Badge number 5342. Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."
And then there's morphine. No herbal remedies, this is the good stuff. After the IV is set, Green Arrow lets out a long puff of air. Lots of work to do before he can rest.
Luckily, none of her injuries appear to be life-threatening. Even the bullet wound is well within his abilities as a battlefield medic. He starts there, cleaning the area and and prepping it for surgery. Then, one by one, he bathes the cuts and scrapes she accumulated during her captivity. After that, it's time for the hard part.
There would have been a lot of complaining and ne'er do well attitudes. But as soon as that IV hits her arm.. she was feeling like she was on cloud nine. "Hey.. you know me.." She says to the masked man, a lazy smile.. which looks horrendus due to the busted lip, bruised face, and swollen eye.. and she was out.
If the poor man could read her mind and hear her thoughts.. there would be some puppy love show tunes going on.. it's always the ones who were hard as balls who'd love romantic comedies on their own..