2020-01-04 - Getting to know you


The Green Arrow gets a healing hand from 'River'. No one is what they seem?!

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Sat Jan 4 02:35:50 2020
Location: Disaster Zone

Related Logs


Theme Song



By day, Oliver Queen has been spending a great deal more time in the Disaster Zone than he used to. (See: None.) After a single foray, he was moved enough by the plight of the people living there to take a personal interest. Not a public one, though. Instead, he's been renting moving trucks under false names and driving them to big box stores to load them with relief supplies. Food. Clothing. Blankets. Sure, those things are important. They're also contributed to by a myriad of charitable groups and individuals. And so Oliver has also been bringing toys, books, hygiene products, and a variety of other small necessities that often aren't part of the average care package.

His time in the area has taught him that not only is comfort at a premium, safety is hard to come by as well. He's heard countless tales of assaults, robberies, even kidnappings and murders that have gone uninvestigated. And so, regardless of his daytime affairs, he's taken to donning his hood at night and cleaning up the area the best way he knows how.

Which brings us to tonight. Interrupting the attempted rape of a young woman led to a scuffle with several thugs, one of whom led Ollie (now the Arrow) back to a hideout. A well guarded and fortified hideout, albeit one that's based in a ragged warehouse with collapsing walls and no intact windows. It was a good fight at first. Then, after the arrows ran out and the ranks closed, it wasn't. As good as he is, GA bit off more than he could chew.

Now, out of ammo, backed into a corner, and more battered than he'd care to admit, the green-clad vigilante clubs an opponent with his bow and steps back to catch his breath. There's a gash through the shoulder and collar of his armor, complete with blood, as well as a cut across his cheek that's mostly concealed by his hood. The rest of his scrapes and bruises are hidden under his armor. He's flagging. He's got a few tricks left, though. One is a concussion grenade; a small cylinder that he triggers and throws into the heart of the twelve or so goons who remain. The flash and noise are tremendous, and aren't contained at all by the ragged warehouse that's being used as a base of operations. It doesn't take anyone out of the fight permanently, but it does scatter the crowd and attract a great deal of attention.

While Thea does not have the financial prowess of a Queen, she's still far better off than most. One of her forays into the DZ has her wandering back now and again, with care packages. They tend to be smaller than the ones she's donated to charity groups, but she's a lone person on foot around here. Some money, soap, and things not 'vital' to survival - the little luxuries a lot of groups don't hand out. Things like chocolate, or fruit candy, tiny perfume vials, or travel size lotions.

She's left the last one in a place likely to be found, slinging the empty pack across her chest, to head back for her motorcycle. It's a newer model - recently purchased though winter is not the ideal time to ride. But the weather has been unseasonably mild as of late, so it seems ideal. She's tugging on the fingerless gloves as she walks, when she hears that flash bang go off, not far down the cross street she's just come upon. The biokinetic doesn't take time to think, running towards the sound. The thought of letting someone fend for themselves never crossed her mind.

She will approach the warehouse without windows, sliding up along a wall to peer through where a window /used/ to be. There's a minor jolt to her system, when she recognizes a figure inside not by their face, but by their biosignature. It's a surprise, when she thought she couldn't really be shocked anymore by people being more than what they seemed.

There's a quick mental checklist, as she slips out of her backpack, counting numbers, and a mental assessment of her own weapon cache. She has a knife in each boot, and a small 'girly gun' tucked into a specially made holster at her lower back. Then, of course, she has herself. It'll have to be enough, as she shifts and moves to slip in through the space where window used to be - she's dressed in a black leather jacket, and jeans, boots a matte black. She doesn't have a mask, and black hair is back in a thick braid.

The confusion from the grenade provides the Green Arrow with a moment to catch his breath. Another criminal is taken down, this one with a single, thunderous punch to the jaw. Then the hero sags, catches himself, and straightens again. Bowed, but far from broken. He rolls he shoulders, then leans forward and growls, "Come on!"

Despite having taken more than his share of hits, his determination and his digitally roughened voice have slowed the advance of his attackers. A few feint in here and there, drawing the Arrow's attention, until one slips in and smashes the vigilante across the ribs with a baseball bat.

The blow sends GA to the ground, but he's quick to retaliate with a throwing knife that takes his latest assailant through the wrist, forcing him to drop the bat.

Thea winces at the bat to the ribs, managing to not make any sound like gasping. She's impressed at the determination - she knows how hurt he is. Her advantage is surprise, after all, so she needs to be quiet.

That won't stop her, however, from helping the knifed assailant bleed a little faster - make it hurt a little more - and hopefully make him quit the fight. The bat is noted, and if she gets a chance, she'll pick it up and use it. She will hunch down for a moment, taking off her riding gloves to replace them with very thin full ones. It wouldn't do to leave fingerprints on things.

She's rising back to standing, and the 'Arrow' will feel warmth along his ribs and shoulder - a lessening of pain. It may tip him off that he is not without an ally, even as the tingling starts, and he'll feel something like a second wind hit his system, as Thea alters his body chemicals to try and help him stay in the fight. She will move quickly from her little hidey spot by the wall, to behind the closest guy trying to kill Oliver. She uses her powers to make his vocal chords be silenced by the swell of tissues around them, before she will crack him in the temple with the gun she's pulled free to use as a bludgening object. It's a pretty precise strike, and she can always 'help' him lose consciousness. She lets him fall without slowing the descent, knowing at least some of the miscreants will hear him drop, and distract them. With luck, they'll come at her. The gun is already being put away, and knives are being pulled from her riding boots.

It's a tidy and effective entrance. Between them, Thea and the Arrow have taken down three, which leaves nine between them. As if reaching some unspoken conclusion, four peel off toward the already winded Arrow, while the other five head for Thea.

Winded. GA was feeling pretty winded a moment ago. Sore, too. But it would seem that second winds are a real thing, because when he straightens, it's to his full height. In the shadows of his hood, he smiles wide enough to crinkle the green grease paint that's pasted in a band across his face from his brows to his cheekbones. Then, with a low chuckle, he lunges. There isn't much finesse to his attack. He grips his bow in both hands and uses it to smash down first one, then a second thug in short order.

Caught up in the fight, it isn't until then that he realizes he has company. "Hi," he greets, his masked voice turning an otherwise cheerful greeting into something neutral at best. "Left, on your left!"

Thea bats her lashes, as she takes a couple steps back. "Five on one, boys? Really now?" There's amusement in her voice, as she can't quite quell a grin. "I'm flattered." Her voice goes from teasing to predatory. The knives? They're a mismatch pair - one a simple Ka-Bar, the other? A chinese ring dagger that she will spin in an idle motion before she throws it into one of the approaching thug, nailing him in his shoulder- where she knows the nerves bunch, and will make his arm feel numb.

There's a duck as the guy on her left tries to strike, before she will kick the side of his knee brutally. "Trust me, I know!" She calls back out to 'Arrow'. She certainly is paying attention, as the guy with a now broken knee will be moved away from. That leaves her with three - And she doesn't seem to be at all concerned.

Now they're just batting cleanup. The vigilante in green keeps things simple. He pulls a stun baton from his boot; a twelve inch rod similar in appearance to a flashlight, but with an electrically charged tip. One of his two remaining bad guys is zapped unceremoniously, but the other puts up a struggle.

The two wrestle back and forth for a few seconds before the Green Arrow gets his opponent trapped in a choke hold with the baton doing the choking. A few more seconds and his last bad guy is down. Then, second wind or not, the Arrow has to slump back and take in another deep breath. It's been a long night.

While he's collecting himself, there's a moment where he seems to consider getting involved in the last of the fighting, but his rescuer seems to be capable of handling herself. So, smiling, he watches and thumbs away blood from the cut under his eye.

Thea holds the knife with a familiarity, using it to slice the length of one thug's arm as he takes a ludicrous swing at her head that she can side-step easily. It seems they are more used to fighting other bruisers, than someone with speed. She will duck down, and come up with a blow to shove right up under his solar plexus - and paired with her powers, he will lose almost all his air to collapse and try to focus on breathing. Then, before she can even establish a stance, she's dropping to a crouch again, one hand on concrete floor as her foot lifts and kicks upward into a guy's 'vulnerable' groin just as he kicks her hard in the hip. She won't even hesitate as he bends in half, rising to let her knee meet his face and put him out of the game.

The last one has hung back a bit, perhaps learning from the mistakes of others. After all, one slender female shouldn't be this much trouble, in most cases. Thea doesn't bother to look away from him, even as she bends one leg to slide her Ka Bar away. Hands will hold out just a bit - empty, before she smiles at the thug. She will approach him without any sort of distinct style showing in her movements. She sees his shoulder twitch before he moves, but can't seem to sidestep quite enough to not get struck in the cheek with his fist. But she needed to be closer - her reach is much shorter than his - so she's hit, and then there's another to her side from his other hand, before she can lash out with a cupped hand slap against his ear. She knows that not only can she interuppt his equilibrium this way, but there will be pain from the compressed air in his ear canal, and she might even burst his eardrum. At any rate, as he strikes out in pain, Thea will twist his arm and use his momentum to put him face first on the floor, before she will strike twice to be sure he's knocked out.

There are several breaths as she rises, and just looks over them, before the one still trying to pull her dagger free will just.. grab at his throat and try to gasp for air before he drops. She'll retrieve her dagger, wiping it on his shirt, before it's put back in her boot. That's when she'll head towards Oliver. "Quite a mess. Including you." Her fingers will reach out to touch just under his chin. "I can fix that." Meaning his cheek, before he will feel that warmth, the tingling sharper with the sensitive flesh of the face.

"That's quite the party trick." The tone isn't ungrateful, just… wary. The vigilante pulls himself upright and sucks in one more breath. "I was doing fine."

It's almost a protest, but not quite. Between the dozen that they took down together and those that were handled before Thea arrived, there's twenty would-be villains who are down for the count. Still, those last twelve would have been troublesome at best, and he's looking a bit the worse for wear despite the help he's gotten.

"Thanks for the assist," GA finally offers, somewhat grudgingly. "This is a rough neighborhood. It needs all the help it can get."

Thea isn't wearing any makeup, or accessories, or anything Oliver would have seen her in before. Still, her face is the same -lacking color other than a natural flush in her cheeks perhaps- but the same.

"Not a party trick. Trained skill, comes in handy." She will look up at him, those blue eyes amused. "Sure, doing fine. That party trick can tell me just how hurt you are, you know. How do you think I knew to help seal off the gash in your shoulder to stop the bleeding? Your ribs will be okay, none of them broke, you won't even be sore tomorrow, if you let me." The warmth and tingling surges over that area where he was struck again.

She tips her head, brows lifting. "Not even going to say hello and greet me properly?" She smirks, just a bit.

Despite what she's said, as far as Oliver is aware, the smart move is still to play dumb, despite Thea being a pretty damn recognizable person. "I appreciate everything you've done," he says mildly. "But I don't think we know each other."

His disguise isn't perfect, a fact of which his aware, but his hood is low, his paint is thick, and the lighting is poor. This combination is usually more than enough to see him through. "You should get out of here," he advises, taking a step back into the shadows. "This isn't the only rat's nest in the Zone. Or the biggest."

She chuffs a bit of a laugh out, "I can keep a secret, obviously. Not exactly what you expected of me when we met at that charity gala, is it?" She takes a step back. "You could say I'm Queen of keep secrets. Even those that aren't mine."

I'm sure you thought I was just another of the wastrel rich kids. Surprise." She peels off her gloves. "I know how dangerous it is around here. But I wasn't the one being cornered." Gloves are tucked away in a pocket. She will watch him a moment, and he will feel his injuries - from his ribs, to his shoulder, to bruises and bumps, blaze with warmth that's almost too hot, the tingling intense. "Is it just that I know who you are making you grumpy, or you don't like being helped?"

She's dropped a few too many hints for Ollie to act stupid any longer. Sighing, he lowers his hood and disengages his vocal scrambler. "Both," he admits. "But I didn't think you'd have one of the three or four very particular skillsets that'd let you know who I am. What, could you smell me?"

More and more things are starting to make sense. The strange sensations are a surprise, though. Despite feeling better for them, he seems a bit put off. "You should let someone know before you do that. It's… It feels weird. And I was doing fine, I'll have you know. I've got more grenades." The last bit is defensive to the point of being challenging. "You've got me over a barrel, here."

"Well, that's only fair. I was surprised to see you here, physically costumed or not. Just like you, there's a lot of me that most people don't know." She chuckles. "No. The same party trick that lets me heal you - .. you have a specific biosignature. I've seen yours before, and I recognized it. I didn't have to see your face." There's a shrug. "Though I much prefer your voice without the ..machine thing."

"I generally do warn first. Hell, in a lot of cases I /ask/ first. But you being all grumpy, I wanted to heal you up as much as I could before you vanish into the night, or whatever you do." Brows lift again, and he'll see a moment of that confidence slipping. "I have you over a barrel? How?"

"How? What, do you think I advertise? Oliver Queen, douchebag playboy by day, vigilante by night?" Unmasked, Ollie seems more than a little distressed. "Literally no one knows who I am except for you, so this is a bit of a moment for me."

And we're calm. And we're calm. He takes a deep breath. And we're calm. "Look. Thanks. For the help, and for the pick me up, but I'm not looking for a sidekick. Why don't we go our separate ways and forget all of this happened. We'll get drunk at an Easter benefit or something and never, ever speak of this, yeah?"

Those eyes widen, and blink, just a moment. "No one else? You do this alone?" It's not quite spluttered out, but almost. "Playboy, maybe, but not a douchebag." She will correct him, maybe regaining herself a bit with sassing him. " I had no idea your secret identity was truly secret."

She will shift, a hip cocked a bit. "Did you think about this? Do you think the world knows that I'm Althea Harman - politician's daughter by day, anti-hero by night? You know who I am, too. I just don't have.." A hand gestures over her face. "Because I'm not as famous as you. But you knowing who I am could hurt me too, you realize. So I don't think either of us needs to worry about the other ratting us out, if we're both smart and being rational." That's a little bit of a dig at him.

She will give a short, harsh laugh. "Honey, I'm no one's /sidekick/. I've been doing this.. for a while. Perhaps longer than you. I'm no masked hero type, but I'm not some eager little girl, hoping you'll notice me. I don't know if you noticed, but I am perfectly well equipped for being a solo act." That coule be taken a couple ways. "Look. I'll make you deal. Your secret dies with me, if you promise me one thing." She will pause just a moment. "You get beat up bad, you call me." There's a sigh. "You may not need a sidekick, but most of the heroes I've met could use a healer. Deal?"

"Yeah, I do this alone." Ollie spreads his hands, waving to the eight goons he took down when he was outnumbered twenty to one. "And fairly well. Alright, I get it. Secret secrets are no fun, secret secrets hurt someone. I'll keep yours, you keep mine."

There's a groan from a thug who'd been punched rather than taking a more thorough form of takedown. Ollie doesn't even break stride, he just boots the man under the chin and puts him back to sleep. "You're good," he admits. "And being patched up discreetly is never a bad thing. Thanks. I'm not used to having this conversation. Because, yeah, secret identity is really a secret. Mostly people think that I-" he waves to his Green Arrow ensemble. "-don't actually exist. Only a few have ever stopped to wonder who I really am."

"I mean.. a lot of my work I do alone." She can't explain to the hero that she is anything but, sometimes. "But I can be a helpful person to know. Spider-man, Spider-Girl, etc. I've even helped heal an Avenger or two. So you're safe enough. I don't share names. I don't heal and tell, so to speak." There's eve na smile. "As far as I'm concerned, the Arrow is just a myth. Another story made up by scumbags to cover up their ineptitude, or something. Work for you?"

There's a moment, and a sigh. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have been such a bratty bitch, if I knew no one else ever cottoned on to who you are, or that you'd never told anyone." It's sincere, as she looks at him. "This is a conversation I've had a couple times before."

"This is my first time, so be gentle and leave a note when you take off in the morning." The quip is weak, even to Oliver's ears. "Spider-Man. Avengers. This is all a bit much for me. I'm just a rich boy who beats up bad guys." He waves again, this time in a gesture that indicates their recent activities are right around his pay grade.

A long moment passes while he soaks up this new information. Then he lets out a puff of air and shrugs. "You're good. I'm going to go home, take a bath, have several drinks, and try to soak all of this in."

Thea's hand will lift to clap over her mouth, but it doesn't quite stifle the giggle. "I've never had that conversation, so.." She smirks, a roll of her shoulders. "What do I look like to you? I'm obviously not an Avenger, and I don't have those neat webshooter things. What, do you think I should advertise? Thea Harman, healer to the heroes?" There's some teasing there.

"You have no idea how good." She can't quite help it, that smile spreading into an amused little grin. A hand will move out as she steps, to touch his arm if he lets her. "Sorry. I really didn't mean to take it so lightly. It seems like everywhere I turn, there's someone in my life, no matter how peripheral, that has a power, or a hero story, or.. whatever. It's sort of.. not very often surprising, at this point. I was trained with people with powers - overseas. So.. it's probably a little less shocking to me to see you like this, than for you to have me see you this way."

"A little," Oliver agrees dryly. He reaches over to a downed criminal and yanks an arrow free, eliciting a groan and proving that the injuries inflicted weren't fatal. "No apologies. There's nothing supernatural about me or my training. No powers. Just lots of these."

True to form, he went through the fight and everything after without setting down his bow. The arrow he retrieved is readied and attached to a grappling line, then fired through a hole in the roof. He ducks back into his hood and triggers his scrambler again. "Gotta go. Stay safe."

Thea shrugs again. "I'm better with knives. Guns. I've never really worked with arrows." She's just being honest. "You stay safe. I can heal myself, Mister Arrow." She'll flash him a smile, a salute as he ducks back into his hood. "I'll see you around, I'm sure. Probably because she'll go to Verdant soon to check on him.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License