The heat radiating off the door baked through the thin leather gloves he wore.
That wasn’t right.
The door was just as he remembered—a flat unadorned steel slab in a two-inch steel track, no knobs, no handles of any kind. He would draw on it with chalk while his father worked, overseeing the men who performed the physical labor of raising a skyscraper, forcing beams of steel and slabs of concrete to do as they willed and defy gravity.
This door had a flame-retardant core. It wouldn’t burn.
“Overwatch, where are the first responders?”
“On the other side of the isolation door,” she replied.
“Then there’s no fire making this hot,” Mister Terrific said.
“No, there’s not,” Green Arrow grumbled.
“What is it, then?”
“I can answer that now,” Felicity said over their comms. “The good thing about a state-of-the-art building is that they generate lots of real-time information about what’s happening.”
“Enlighten us, please,” Oliver said brusquely.
“The door has a massive electrical charge running through it, and it’s acting like an overloaded capacitor, holding the heat you feel.”
“Then cut the power.”
“That was my first instinct, too.” Felicity’s voice came in and out slightly, and he pictured her doing what she normally did on the comms, rolling around in her chair and talking with her entire body. “But the security measures in the building would require either a physical interference at the main grid in the basement, or shutting down three city blocks—one of which includes a hospital, and another has a terminal disease hospice.
“So no can do,” she concluded.
“We’ll have to figure something out here.”
“If I come up with a solution I’ll chime in.”
Green Arrow turned to Mister Terrific and growled, “Figure something out.”
“Oh.” The taller man stepped back. “You mean right now?”
“Yes.”
Mister Terrific’s mouth opened, then closed—as if he wanted to say something, then thought better of it.
“You chose the name Mister Terrific for a reason,” Green Arrow said, putting a hard hand on his companion’s shoulder, eyes fierce through the emerald mask. “You haven’t failed to live up to it yet.”
Mister Terrific nodded at the reassurance, yet, despite the heat sweat there, a chill ran up his spine.
* * *
Something tore in her throat. A shear of hot, wet pain told her that something vital to the operation of her voice had violently come loose.
Still Dinah Drake screamed.
Black dots crept at the edges of the fire that was her world, the hungry fire, the beast, the eater of flesh. The inferno had been unleashed when the panicked civilian had flung open the door that had held it back. The fire, starved for oxygen, raged out in a wave seeking to consume them. Black Canary had done the only thing she could.
Open her mouth, and scream with all her might.
The sonic force shunted around a hard knot of agony, pushed out with sheer will, slamming into the consuming fire like a ringing hammer, holding it at bay. Her scream pounded inside her skull, the feedback from it curdling her stomach. Something trickled down the back of her throat, something that tasted like hot, wet pennies.
She spasmed, wanting to cough.
At a small drop in sonic force, the fire surged toward her, eating its way closer. She smelled the singe of her own hair and ignored it even as it tried to crawl in and join the tickle cough that threatened to make her throat clench, cutting off her canary cry.
She screamed harder. Dropped to her knees, not feeling them bang on the floor. The fire looked even larger from here, a hovering force of absolute destruction, pressed against her cry with a physical weight. It was bright, so bright and hot.
Through the haze of her vision came movement.
She was pulled sideways, leather jacket pulling tight across her shoulders and chest like a lasso. Her muscles creaked as she fought and the voice thundered in her head.
Got to stand my ground! If I fail, the others will be burned alive.
She surged against the pull, sonic scream wavering, making the fire pulse toward her. Then everything turned upside down, and started spinning. Her throat closed, canary scream ending as if it had been chopped in two by an ax. Her legs were singed even through the thick material of her costume as the flame poured itself into the space where she had been.
Dinah hit the ground with a hard jolt, any pain from it driven out by the shock of not being burned. White Canary loomed over her, blond hair hanging low enough to tickle against her skin. The other hero smiled widely.
“Good job. You got skills.”
Black Canary pushed herself up, throat too raw to say thank you, so she nodded, then looked around. They were in the stairwell, the people they had been herding to safety huddled along the rail to her left.
“You good?” White Canary asked.
She nodded again, not trusting her voice. She’d never pushed that hard, not even against Black Siren on Lian Yu.
Sara stood and reached down. Dinah took the hand and let herself be pulled to her feet. She noticed the strength in White Canary’s pull.
No wonder she was able to pick me up and carry me.
“Get up,” White Canary said to the civilians who had dropped to the floor. She moved close to the man who had panicked, looming over him. “What’s your name?”
The man swallowed. “Brad.”
“Listen up, Bradley, did you see what she just did to save your skin? That was amazing. She held fire back with just her voice.” She leaned in close, her face nearly touching his, not snarling but speaking low through her teeth. “Can you do that, Bradley?”
“No.” Bradley wouldn’t look at her.
“Then from now on, until you are safely out of this building, how about you follow our orders and trust us?”
He nodded, eyes still down.
White Canary turned away and winked at her as she mounted the first steps up. “I’ll walk point from here, so you take it easy for a bit.”
Black Canary touched her fingertips to her mask in salute.
Sara smiled and began marching up the stairs, the civilians following her like sheep. Her voice came again, but this time through the comms as well as echoing in the stairwell. The effect was eerily disjointed.
“The fire’s spreading fast,” she said, sounding calm despite their situation. “I hope you guys have that door on the roof open.”
* * *
The comms in their masks didn’t click or hum, but White Canary’s voice was suddenly there in their ears, strangely calm for the words she said.
“The fire’s spreading fast. I hope you guys have that door on the roof open.”
Spartan looked down at Wild Dog. Rene knelt, arms braced on a wrought-iron chair, the semiautomatic pistol in his hands extended toward the two propane tanks.
“Take the shot.”
Wild Dog pushed his mask up, sweat running down his face. He swiped the sleeve of his jersey over his eyes to clear them.
“Hot up here.”
“I’ve got one, too,” Spartan said. “Take the shot.”
Wild Dog tilted his head, looking down his arm, across the sights of the pistol, to the small square just above the sparking ignition.
“Take the—”
The gun kicked as his finger squeezed, spitting a bullet across the rooftop patio. It struck the tank before the crack of it breaking the sound barrier reached their ears.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then there was a blade of hot blue flame as the ignition sparked into the propane, then nothing as it sucked back into the tank.
Wild Dog and Spartan looked at each other.
The tanks exploded in a blast of flying metal and blue flame.
* * *
“How much longer?”
Mister Terrific looked down from where he hung by a pipe, and swallowed. Green Arrow intimidated him. He wasn’t sure why. He’d never been anything but supportive—well, except when he’d tried pushing the entire team away from joining up. But the team was solid now, solid as osmium. None of them would betray Green Arrow.
Not again…
“How. Long?”
The question broke into his thought pattern. He carefully twisted the nozzle between his fingers and dropped back down to the floor.
“Now.”
Green Arrow nodded. “Okay, what’s my part?”
“Oh, it’s easy for you.” Curtis moved toward the isolation door, motioning for Green Arrow to follow. “I’m going to use the T-Spheres to send an electric surge through that—” He pointed to the sprinkler system. “—which should activate all the sprinkler heads. They’re all aimed at the door. When the door is coated in water, it will rapidly cool this side, causing it to—”
“Cold water in a hot pan.” Green Arrow cut him off.
“Yeah, thermal shock.” Mister Terrific reached toward his face, stopping himself before he could adjust glasses that weren’t there.
“The cold water will make the door warp,” Green Arrow said. “I’m familiar.”
“Okay, when the water hits the door I need you to put explosive arrows here—” He pointed to the upper right corner. “—here—” Lower right corner. “—and here.” The center of the door.
“I can do that.”
“At the same time.”
Green Arrow looked at the door and nodded. “I can do that.” He touched the comms. “Overwatch, tell fire and rescue to move back around the corner of the last stairwell.”
“Will do,” Felicity said.
“Tell them it will be loud,” Mister Terrific added.
“Will do.”
They moved back to the turn of the stairwell, to have cover from the backlash the explosive arrows would create. Mister Terrific reached under his jacket, pulling out the two silver spheres, each a little smaller than a man’s fist. A stylized “T” was inset in each shiny surface. He tossed them gently into the air and they rose with a barely audible hum.
“They’ll do what you want them to?” Green Arrow asked.
Mister Terrific smiled. “Yes, it’s actually intriguing, I use a series of—”
Green Arrow gave him a look from under the emerald hood.
Mister Terrific stopped talking.
“Tell me about it later,” Arrow said. “No, don’t tell me later, tell Overwatch later. She’ll love to hear how it works.”
“She already knows,” Terrific replied. “She helped me work out the guidance system.”
“I’m sure it’s fascinating.”
“It is.” Mister Terrific’s mouth was a hard line, his feelings bruised.
“It’s just not my forte.”
“I know.”
“Let it be enough that I’m impressed.”
Mister Terrific nodded. The T-Spheres rose in the air, moving toward the ceiling. They circled the electronic switch box before inching forward until their sleek metal sides almost touched the iron pipe.
“Get ready.”
Green Arrow turned, pulling a three-part arrow from his quiver and notching it in the bow. He looked down its length, mind calculating the distance and angles—some of it conscious, but most of it happening in the instinctual area of his mind, honed to sharpness by years of living on an island where it was live or die by the shot you made or failed.
Lian Yu.
He pushed that from his mind. No time for it. He needed calm, the water, no ripples, no waves, just the smooth placid surface of his mind so he could make the shot. Squinting down the arrow, he rolled his thumb, just ever so slightly, on the notch of the arrow, micro-adjusting the angle of the fletching.
A buzzing crack sounded above him, followed by a gurgle and then the spray of dirty water that shot in an arc from where he stood. The water hit the door, sending steam roiling into the air. Still he focused on the target.
“Wait for it to bend,” Mister Terrific said.
The steam parted under the onslaught of the water.
An image appeared on the door.
A green triangle, covered with a red X, and surrounded with a series of lines meant to represent primitive flames. It was only there for an instant before rinsing away.
The door creased in a sudden jerk, as if a giant fist had struck it.
“Allons-y!” Mister Terrific cried.
Green Arrow released the projectile. The triple arrow crossed the space, splitting into three, each piece striking the marks set by Mister Terrific. On impact all three exploded with a wave of concussive force that kicked back to the space where the two heroes stood. They braced against the impact.
As the steam and smoke cleared they found the door slewed off the track, ready to be dragged out of the way. Mister Terrific reached out to clap Green Arrow on the shoulder, stopping before he actually touched the Emerald Archer. His arm fell but his smile stayed.
“I never get tired of seeing you make those shots!”
Green Arrow didn’t reply.
* * *
“Careful, ma’am.” Spartan pulled a woman through the blackened hole in the concrete wall. She nodded, holding his arms.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” she said shakily before moving toward the group of people Wild Dog had gathered on the other side of the rooftop. The plan had worked. Not perfectly—they’d had to use one of the wrought-iron chairs to make the hole big enough for people to actually fit through, and the tile had been destroyed around the blast site, becoming a treacherous field of slippery broken stone. Nevertheless, mission accomplished.
He turned to find White Canary crawling free, Black Canary right behind her, both of them singed and covered in soot. Black Canary’s lower half was scorched, part of one leg burned.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She nodded in response, lifting a thumbs-up.
“She really sang down there.” White Canary put her hand on Black Canary’s shoulder. “So her voice is shot, but she’s a little badass.”
Black Canary touched her lips with her right hand, pulling it away in a downward motion in Sara’s direction.
“Is that sign language for thank you?”
Black Canary nodded.
White Canary laughed, “One of the two signs I know. The other one isn’t polite.”
“I’m glad you two are out,” Spartan said. “The helicopter will be here in a few minutes.” He paused and looked around. “Any word from Green Arrow or Mister Terrific?”
“Mister Terrific?” White Canary’s eyebrows creased. “Really?”
“He’s a big fan of yours.” Wild Dog walked up. “Everybody’s situated until the chopper gets here.” Behind him the civilians sat or lay on the roof. They were soot-stained and haggard but mostly uninjured aside from a few burns here and there.
“We got lucky here today,” Spartan said.
“None of this was luck.” The voice came behind them. Green Arrow stepped out through the hole in the wall, Mister Terrific behind him. “This was a deliberate attack.”
The team fell silent.