The two Skulls pulled themselves to the top of the car carrier just as he reached the front half of it. They crouched, swaying with the rhythm of the speeding vehicle, their shirts rippling up their backs as a result of the drag of air rushing past.
The one on the left reached up and jerked the mask off his head, revealing a fighter’s face that matched his broad frame. Short-cropped hair, cauliflower ears, nose canted to the side from being broken more than once, and a slick of scar tissue over his left eyebrow likely from leaning into punches instead of ducking away.
The unmasked Skull was steadier on his feet than his partner, who held tightly to the rail beside him, knuckles white. Frozen by his fear, the man didn’t move forward.
But he did raise his gun.
Green Arrow drew an arrow from his quiver and fired, aiming at the unsteady Skull’s feet. The arrow clanged on the metal platform, spitting sparks and clattering toward his opponent like a skittering animal. The Skull jumped to avoid it. Off balance, he slipped and crashed to the metal platform, the impact shaking the grate. He cried out, finger squeezing the trigger, sending a stream of bullets into the night air.
Green Arrow drew and fired again, this arrow thunking into the metal grate a foot from the fallen figure. He moved his face slightly into the shadow of his hood as the flash-bang arrow fulfilled its destiny in a blast of sound and light and force. Then he turned back, in time to see the Skull slide away, sent flying by the blast, falling off the edge of the trailer.
The unmasked Skull lunged forward, shooting toward Green Arrow’s knees. His arms were outstretched.
He’s a grappler.
Green Arrow twisted, pushing off, stepping high to go over the man’s back. Something powerful clamped onto his leg and jerked him out of the air, the steel of the car carrier slapping him like a giant’s hand, forcing the air from his lungs. The world went staticky for a long moment, all white speckle snow pulsing in a field of matt black, and he fought to keep from falling into it, from being swallowed up.
Pressure on his chest, enough to make the fibrous seams of cartilage creak with sharp pain, cleared his vision. The unmasked Skull lay on top of him, pinning him to the steel grate, massive shoulders driving into Green Arrow’s torso as the criminal’s fingers dug into the holes of the grate for leverage, adding even more pressure. The archer twisted, bucking to throw the bigger man off him, but the big criminal fought back, driving Green Arrow down again. His face came inches from Green Arrow’s, as he bared his teeth like an animal.
A bridge of dark gray metal replaced three missing molars on the left side.
“I will kill you.”
His breath was the foul meat smell of a carnivore. Green Arrow didn’t answer, saving his own limited breath. His arms were pinned, the quiver on his back driving into him. Options zipped through his mind so fast they weren’t even thoughts, but rather instinct. His hands clenched into hard fists, first knuckle extended in a Phoenix Eye. He drove them deep into the unmasked Skull’s back, digging hard for the pressure points above the kidneys.
The man on top of him jerked away. The force of him lurching off Green Arrow’s chest knocked the Emerald Archer’s hand into the metal grate, and torn knuckles sent a burning lash of pain up his arm. His brain shut it away as air rushed into his chest and he rolled on top of the bigger man.
Lunging forward in a mounted position, he tried to drop an elbow strike, but the unmasked Skull was too quick, his meaty hand catching the archer’s arm and deflecting it. The Skull didn’t try to flip his opponent off him. Instead he drove a hard punch to the vigilante’s ribs.
Even through the Kevlar mesh it felt like a hammer.
Green Arrow folded, elbows tight to his side to protect himself, and dove left toward his bow. It lay bouncing on the vibrating grate just a few feet away. His hand closed on it as pain blasted up the back of his leg, the muscles seizing into a clenched knot. Scrambling away he turned to find the unmasked Skull holding a metal tube not much longer than his hand. The end of it crackled and sparked with electricity.
Thanks, Cisco, Green Arrow thought. If he’d been hit with that Taser while wearing his old suit, he’d have been paralyzed, rather than just suffering a cramped muscle.
The unmasked Skull waved the Taser again. “I’m going to shove this down your throat,” he growled.
Oliver pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back.
“Shoot me!” the Skull screamed over the wind. “Do it!” A shadow passed across them, cast by a highway overpass.
Green Arrow pulled and fired.
The arrow crossed the space between them like magic…
And sailed right over the criminal’s head.
“Ha!” he cried. “You can’t even—”
The thin cable attached to the shaft burned across the Skull’s bicep as the loop on its end slipped over his arm, sliding all the way to his shoulder. He still looked surprised when the loop cinched closed, and he was pulled off his feet by the grappling hook arrow lodged in the overpass. Green Arrow stepped aside as the big criminal was pulled past him and off the end of the trailer.
He still had a limp as he turned and began moving toward the front of the truck.
* * *
The bike still hung upside down, its front tire wedged into one of the support struts for the upper level where Oliver stood. A hail of bullets struck it, and the impacts sang loudly in Sara’s ears. White Canary braced against the machine, nunchaku held low by her hip as she waited for a pause in the fusillade.
A few seconds later, the opportunity came.
Over the rumble of the speeding truck and the hollow clang of the bike hitting the side of the car carrier, she heard the distinct dry clack-clack of a magazine being changed in an assault gun. Stepping around the hanging motorcycle, she found the Blue Skull raising the carbine in her hands. Whipping the nunchaku up and around she let it fly, spinning like a dervish across the space. The hardwood and metal chain weapon struck the gun, knocking it from the Blue Skull’s hands. The rifle swung around her body, still attached to the strap across her torso, causing the masked woman to stumble.
Sara closed the distance between them in three long steps, swinging a knife-hand strike at the Blue Skull’s head. Her opponent used her own stumble to duck, White Canary’s palm just skimming the latex of the mask. Closing her fingers, she snatched it off the Blue Skull’s head. The woman underneath the mask had a set of wide eyes that might have looked innocent if they weren’t pools of molten rage.
Canary planted her feet and spun, bringing her shin up in an arc toward the unmasked criminal’s head. The woman raised her arm to block. They connected and blue sparks shot from the blow, the shock causing White Canary to collapse to the metal grate of the carrier’s platform. Looking up through a curtain of her hair she found the Blue Skull pulling back the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a gauntlet of metal and wire that wrapped her forearm. She clenched her fist and electricity buzzed around the mechanism.
“You’ve got a Taser glove?” Sara said. “Not fair.”
“And it’s going to get a lot worse.”
White Canary pulled herself up to stand unsteadily, still holding the mask. The micro muscles of her legs jumped and spasmed. She’d be okay in a few minutes, but until then she wouldn’t be able to move—couldn’t brace herself, couldn’t even kick.
She raised the rubber mask and held it up.
“Got your nose.”
“I’m going to watch you scream, then throw you under the wheels of this truck,” Blue Skull said, breathing hard, pulling air through her teeth. Sweat from wearing the mask made her skin shine, highlighting cheekbones and brow sharp enough to cut. White Canary read the determination in the criminal’s eyes—she had a feral glint deep in them, of someone who would be absolutely ruthless.
Still holding the rubber mask, Sara clenched her fists and dropped into a boxer’s stance, regaining more of her footing with each passing second.
“You’re gonna have to do better than you have so far, sweetie.”
The Blue Skull growled, a low animal sound, and stepped forward, swinging her electrified arm like a club. White Canary ducked back, letting the strike whistle past her face. It came so close that the electricity in the device made her lips tingle. Her own hand shot up, wrapping the rubber mask around the gauntlet, using it as insulation from shock. Tightening her grip, she pushed the gauntlet against the Blue Skull’s throat.
A look of surprise appeared on her opponent’s face as Sara held it there, watching as the woman convulsed from the shock and her dark eyes rolled up into her head. The acrid smell of melting rubber was stronger even than the diesel.
Letting go, White Canary let the woman drop like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She shook the melted, sticky mask off her hand, then looked up.
I wonder how Oliver’s doing?
The thought was just complete when the truck slewed sideways, throwing her against the railing. She caught herself, staying on her feet even though her legs still weren’t entirely steady.
I guess he’s doing alright.
* * *
The three net arrows hit almost simultaneously, lodging in the front left tire of the big rig. The arrows deployed their payloads—high-tensile cable netting that zipped out and anchored in multiple overlapping points, some in the tire, some in the truck body, some in the street, most of them wrapping the tire and becoming a steel tangle around the axle.
The sheer weight and momentum of the big rig almost carried it through, but something snapped with a warbling twang and the truck cut sharply left, swerving up onto the wide median between the two sides of the highway, and then coming to a shuddering stop. The driver’s-side door opened and a Skull fell out, tumbling onto his back, hands scrabbling at his waistband for some weapon.
The last net arrow from the quiver struck the ground between his legs and launched its payload. Instantly he was wrapped tight from shoulders to ankles, unable to move, all in the second it took Green Arrow to drop down from the roof of the tractor trailer.
* * *
“Well, that was fun.”
Oliver slung his bow up over his shoulder and walked toward Sara, who leaned on the trailer’s rear set of tires. He couldn’t help but smile.
“Thank you for the help.”
“Anytime.” Her smile matched his. “Well, anytime I’m in town.”
“Speaking of which…”
She held her arms out. “I’m in town.”
“Anything I should worry about?” he asked.
She shook her head, blond hair moving just above her shoulders. “I’m in Star City for a bit and thought, ‘I’ll go home, see Dad, maybe help take down some regular old human criminals for a change.’”
“You’re still with the Legends?”
She nodded.
“Last time I saw you it was aliens.”
She raised her hands, palms out. “I didn’t bring any with me.”
“You know that stuff still weirds me out.”
“I know it does.” She bumped him with her shoulder. “That’s why you can’t be part of my team.”
“I did fine with the aliens.”
“We don’t do much aliens. Dinosaurs a surprising amount, but not many aliens.”
His smile widened. “It’s really good to see you.”
“I didn’t know I could be such a bright spot for you.”
“It’s been…” His mind flashed back, filling with images.
Explosions reflected on water.
The slow leak of blood from the neat hole in Adrian Chase’s skull.
The feel of his son, William, sobbing in his arms.
He pushed those things down.
“It’s been a really tough couple of months.”
She looked at him—not speaking—with the gaze of someone who had known him longer than almost anyone left alive. She studied him with that keen, tactical mind of hers, trying to read him from the history they shared. He saw her jaw tighten as she almost asked for more, then relax as she changed her mind.
“So, you want to call in the cops to pick up these Skulls, and then call it a night? I bet we can dislodge my bike. It’ll get us back to the Arrowcave.”
His face tightened. “I hate that.”
“What do you call it? The Bunker?”
“Actually…”
She laughed. “Of course you do.”
“Will your bike still run? You crashed it into a moving tractor trailer.”
“It got shot, too.” She waved her hand, dismissing both. “It’ll be fine. It’s not Waverider issue but it’s a tough bike.”