Post by DiscipleofBob on Oct 24, 2013 20:48:36 GMT -5
Issue 9, Historical Inaccuracies
In the light of the early dawn, at the docks of Gateway City, freighters hurriedly unloaded their cargo before the day could begin. The freighter crews wondered about the one severely damaged warehouse, but the local dock workers paid it as little attention as possible, a harsh reminder of the still unexplained riots which occurred only a couple nights ago. The once peaceful city struggled to forget the episode like it was all a bad dream.
The Gateway City Police Department had struggled to find the cause. What they found were confused amnesiac witnesses and some vague video footage of some kind of glowing object. Most traffic and security cameras nearby had inexplicably gone dead. If it was some kind of attack, no one had taken credit. The uncharacteristic delays in breaking the case had put significant pressure on the GCPD, with nothing to show for it. A routine smuggling bust on a European cargo freighter a few days later was a welcome reprieve.
Detective Indelicato ran the beat at the docks. He knew all the dock workers by name, and they all knew Ed Indelicato by the aviator shades and signature Tom Selleck mustache. The local dock workers were all clean except for the occasional crate of smuggled booze or pirated DVD's. The not-so-local boat crews were another story. Gateway City was a shiny target for enterprising criminals with little competition, but there was a good reason that crime had not achieved a foothold here. As far as Ed Indelicato was concerned, that reason was Ed Indelicato.
He quickly rounded up the crew of the freighter. They were nervous, definitely hiding something, and seemed to flinch every time he would force open another crate. “All right, what's in the boxes? Drugs? Weapons?” The first crate was full of unrecognizable but mundane mechanical parts. Nothing worth busting there. The second nothing but exotic cheeses. Nothing of interest yet.
Suddenly one of the workers rushed up to block the detective from examining the next crate. “Nein, nicht stören herr Übermensch. Er wird sie zum aufwecken ihn zu töten !”
Indelicato scowled before shoving the foreigner out of the way. “Can't any of you speak some goddamn English?” It would be hours before an interpreter could show up, time the detective did not want to waste standing around. Throwing open the door to the third crate, the detective was surprised to find it seemingly empty. “All right, so what's so important about this one?”
Rather than risk stepping into an empty crate where someone could close the door behind him, Indelicato spotted his flashlight on the crate. While the front was seemingly empty, the back of the crate was disturbing. A small rickety cot with a moth-eaten mattress, a half-open trunk spilling with wrappers of European protein bars, a pile of magazines of dubious nature, and most disturbing of all, a large swastika flag pinned on the far wall. “What the f...?”
A low groan immediately redirected Indelicato's attention. He drew his gun and pointed both it and his flashlight at the large, slowly-moving bundle on the bed. A hulking figure groggily arose from a deep, uncomfortable sleep. Over seven feet tall, not even able to stand up straight in the crate, clad in only a dirty t-shirt and slacks held by suspenders, the man slowly arose. He turned his bald, wrinkled head towards the detective. “This is Amerika, yes?”
Indelicato's light shined upon the giant's face which did not even flinch from the direct flash to the eyes. His face was contorted with simmering rage adorned with scar tissue in the brand of an iron eagle, the symbol of a decades-old, long-lost empire. Indelicato's gun remained steady though his confidence was quickly faltering. “I don't know what the hell is going on, but everyone here's coming down to the station for questioning! No one move!” He briefly leaned over to his police communicator. “This is Detective Indelicato. I need backup down at the docks now! We've got a meta-” His transmission was cut off as a large gloved hand wrapped out his head. A casual, dismissing toss from the bruiser threw Indelicato through the rear wall of the crate like a rag doll through paper.
Indelicato's body slammed into the next freighter and he quickly lost consciousness. “This is Amerika, yes,” the giant concluded before he tore an opening big enough for a being of his girth to exit through and wandered into the city.
“...and police are still baffled as to the nature of the so-called Gateway City Riots. Protesters arrested during the riot claim they cannot even remember why they participated, just that they blacked out and for several hours reported experiencing waves of depression. Not only are eyewitness accounts limited, but everything from security cameras to cell phones in the area appear to have been damaged around the time of the riots.
“Mayor Veronica Cale delivered a statement yesterday promising to take a personal, active role in the investigation.”
The screen cut from the anchor to Gateway City Hall, where the young politician was already giving her speech.
“I have the assurance of Chief Darnell that our police forces are working tirelessly to find whatever or whomever is responsible and bring them to justice. If the threat is metahuman in nature, I can assure the people of Gateway City that we have the manpower and equipment necessary to keep us from becoming the next Blüdhaven. We will not be overrun with freaks, monsters, and vigilantes. We will remain-”
In at least one household, Mayor Cale's speech was cut short as Steve Trevor switched off the television in disgust. “That's enough of that.” Once the annoying distraction ended, he picked the phone back up. “Now, how's my favorite daughter?”
“What's this about you letting some strange woman stay at the ranch?” the 'favorite daughter' unceremoniously demanded, unamused by the favorite daughter comparison when she was an only child.
“Diana? Lovely girl. Bit odd, but good, honest, and helps around the house,” Steve replied without missing a beat.
“And you really think it's a good idea to bring your girlfriends home with Vanessa in the house?” her voice strained to avoid shouting, determined to be the rational voice, but the insinuation only made Steve chuckle.
“It's nothing like that. I'm far too old for that sort of thing anyway.”
“So, what? She's your new live-in maid?”
“She's a guest, Julia,” Steve explained, his smile starting to fade.
“You don't just invite random people to sleep in the house!” Julia protested. “Who's stopping this woman from robbing you blind or killing you in your sleep?”
“Julia Trevor Kapatelis!” Steve suddenly scolded. “I know I raised you better than that! In my day, we helped people in need. If someone was hungry, you gave them a hot meal. If they needed a place to sleep, you offered a warm bed.”
“But...” Julia tried to interject.
“No buts, young lady! Who I invite into MY house is my business. If someone was a threat, they'd never get past the front gate You know very well I would never let anything happen to Vanessa. Now Diana is staying here as long as she likes and that's that!”
There was momentary silence as Steve allowed Julia to stew, waiting to see if she would search for a new avenue of attack or concede the argument. “Can I at least meet this mystery woman?” she finally asked.
Steve's smile returned, and his reply was as cheerful as if the short argument had never happened. “I was planning on bringing her and Vanessa around to the museum. You're working this weekend, right?”
“Yes,” Julia replied in an artificial professionalism, trying to save face. “I suppose that will have to be acceptable. I will send someone to meet you when you get here.”
“Love you too, honey!” Steve bid farewell as the phone on the other end awkwardly hung up.
The lines stretched throughout the entry hallway of the Gateway History Museum, moving slowly thanks to the checkpoints at admissions. Vanessa fumbled through a brochure while waiting in line, explaining some of the features to a taller figure bundled in a thick, long-sleeved trenchcoat.
Etta Candy waved as she ran to meet up with Vanessa, but she almost did not recognize the dark-haired, musclebound woman in the trenchcoat. “Vanessa,” Etta asked cautiously, “Why is Diana dressed like Carmen Sandiego?”
The Amazon fidgeted in the unfamiliar, itchy garments. “It was implied that being seen in my armor would cause a disturbance.”
“It was the only thing I could find in Mom's closet that would fit her,” Vanessa explained.
Etta whistled. “This is your mom's? Oh she is going to freak. Are you even wearing anything under that?”
“Of course,” Diana nodded, much to Vanessa's confusion. “It was implied that being seen in my armor would cause a disturbance,” she clarified.
Vanessa suddenly panicked. “Diana!” she quickly silenced herself to a whisper, making sure no one else in the line was paying any attention, “Diana, I told you not to wear your armor!”
“I have no choice,” Diana insisted, genuinely surprised this was even an issue. “It is my sworn and sacred duty to be prepared for any trouble, especially when my enemies are still at large.”
“Diana, this museum has metal detectors. If you go in wearing a full suit of armor, you'll be the one causing trouble!” Vanessa said in an agitated whisper, “You could be arrested!"
“I will simply explain my intentions to defend myself by any means necessary. I'm sure they'll understand.”
“We're all going to jail,” Vanessa face-palmed. Fortunately, she noted some spoiled pretty-boy arguing with the security guard while the blonde bombshell with him shook her head in embarrassment. Vanessa at least partially empathized. “Maybe we can just step out of line now and go home before anyone notices.”
“Woman in trenchcoat steps out of the line as soon as she notices metal detectors. You'd be lucky to make it out of the building before the police show up with a bomb squad,” Etta said, much calmer than Vanessa.
“I do not understand,” Diana said, “Your citizens are not allowed to bear arms or protection?”
“Welcome to Gateway City,” Etta said with a faux smile, “Lowest crime rate, cleanest streets, largest stick up the ass on the east coast. I think we're the only major metropolis without its own superhero at this point, unless we count Diana that is.”
“Not funny, Etta!” Vanessa quietly scolded as visions of the three of them publically arrested while her mother watched in shame ran through her mind. “This is going to go on my permanent record,” she panicked. “No Ivy League University will accept a felon!”
“All right, no hyperventilating in public, sweetie,” Etta said calmly as she wrapped an arm around Vanessa consolingIy.
“Vanessa? There you are.” The girls looked up to see a thin, dark-haired, olive-skinned woman in a museum uniform looking concernedly over them. “It's been ages since... Is everything okay?” she asked when she noticed Etta freaking out.
“Hey, Helena,” Etta said quickly, “Everything's fine. Vanessa's just freaking out about finals. Doesn't think she studied enough,” she lied.
“That's Vanessa all right,” the woman smiled, “I'm sure you'll do just fine as always. Come on, your mother's waiting.”
“What about security?” Vanessa asked cautiously.
“You're the daughter of the museum's foremost archaeologist, I sincerely doubt that you're here to steal artifacts,” she joked before turning to the woman in the heavy trenchcoat, “You on the other hand...”
“Diana, this is Helena Sandsmark. She works with my mom,” Vanessa explained.
“I am honored,” Diana bowed.
“Right, the houseguest,” Helena said skeptically. “Nice to meet you. Shall we?”
Helena led the three past the line and past the metal detectors, flashing an ID badge for the guard to let them pass. A man at the front of the line, the same pretty boy Vanessa spotted earlier, singled them out and argued with a guard, “How come she can bring a backpack but I have to check mine? Is there a museum VIP club or something?”
The woman with him hid her face in embarrassment as his complaints were ignored. “Just drop it, Ollie.”
Diana was led through the museum and exposed to a dizzying array of displays and artifacts, all with one woman as their centerpiece. Her familiar face was displayed in a hundred different ways in every room. They had similar shrines on Themyscira, but nothing quite so elaborate or complex. “This is your ancestor?”
“I don't know if great grandmother is enough to qualify for ancestor, but yeah,” Vanessa answered.
“She must have been a great hero to earn such a shrine in her honor,” Diana awed in reverence.
“It's a history museum, not a shrine,” Vanessa tried to explain. “They're just having a special exhibit on Diana Trevor.”
“But that makes her no less a hero,” Helena chimed in as she led the girls past the main exhibits and into the back employee-only area, where the exhibits were far less organized but no less impressive. “Diana Trevor was one of if not the most important feminist icons of the 20th century. She may have been a soldier rather than a politician, but her actions alone dealt a critical blow to gender bias in an era where women had only just earned the right to vote.”
The four continued to move past the unused exhibits and Diana studied each one in turn. “Sorry about the mess,” Helena apologized, “We’re still setting up most of the exhibits. Even though the museum’s technically open, the exhibit doesn’t officially open until Monday.” Even disorganized and cluttered, each piece told a different part of the story of Diana Trevor. Mother. Teacher. Soldier. Martyr. Hero.
Finally they reached what was less an office and more a collection of random desks, file cabinets, and lab equipment spread around haphazardly. “Diana, this is Dr. Julia Kapatelis, currently in charge ofspecial exhibits," Helena introduced the woman currently engrossed in one of the many artifacts.
“One moment,” the woman commanded as she hurriedly but methodically finished her research. Julia Kapatelis was a woman who always stood tall, even when she slouched. Even at a mere 5’6’’ she still somehow always seemed to tower over everyone. What was years ago a mane of long, wild, free-flowing red hair was today a solid dark brown, cropped short and combed straight, as rigid as her posture. Piercing gray eyes peered through archaeological equipment at an ancient artifact, studying its secrets. The artifact was one of several Greek relics that stood out from the early 20th century items and displays. Dr. Kapatelis was studying small, worn inscriptions while drawing a perfectly detailed sketch of the inscription with her left hand and translating it with her right. Finally both hands stopped and gently set down all the equipment, and only after she had finished did anyone dare to speak.
“Hi mom,” Vanessa said weakly, knowing better than to interrupt her mother when she was working.
“Vanessa, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you,” Julia's expression briefly softened to one of motherly concern as she rushed to hug her daughter. “Are you sure you're okay?” she asked as she started inspecting her daughter for underplayed injuries.
“Mom, I'm fine, really, please,” Vanessa whined at the mothering in front of her best friend, who was holding back laughter.
“You have had a noticeable tendency in the past to underestimate your injuries and ailments, leading your statements to be inaccurate as to their severity,” Dr. Kapatelis said methodically as she continued her inspection to her satisfaction. “I should not have to hear second-hand that my daughter participated in something as dangerous and irresponsible as a full-scale city riot.”
“We weren't participating in anything, Dr. K,” Etta tried to explain before being cut off, “We were trapped just like everyone else!”
“You mean like everyone else who apparently feigned ignorance and were ‘forced’ into disturbing the peace?” Dr. Kapatelis challenged, quickly silencing Etta before turning back to Vanessa. “Monday after school you're going straight to the doctor and getting a drug test, is that understood?”
“But mom-!”
“Is that understood?” Dr. Kapatelis cut her off.
“Yes ma'am,” Vanessa said quietly.
Etta started to protest, but Dr. Kapatelis cut her off. “Miss Candy, while I can't impose the same sanctions on you, I suggest you get tested as well. I'm sure if I spoke to your parents, they would agree that it would be the most responsible action.” For once, Etta remained silent.
“It's okay, Etta,” Vanessa tried to console her, “It's just a test. It's not like they'll actually find anything.”
“You'd better hope they find something,” Dr. Kapatelis warned, “or else I'd have to accept that you weren't exposed to any mind-altering substances that might waive responsibility of your actions.” Vanessa and Etta both flinched and remained quiet.
“Julia, don't you think that's a bit harsh?” Helena asked calmly, “Vanessa and Etta are both great kids and model students. They aren't misfits.”
“If you suspected Cassandra had either been taking drugs or had been exposed to dangerous chemicals, you would want to confirm that too.” Dr. Kapatelis snapped back, silencing her assistant along with the two girls. Helena gave a look of apology towards the girls as Dr. Kapatelis sighed. “Dr. Sandsmark, please see if there is anything Vanessa and Etta can do to help set up the remaining exhibits. You can give them a tour if you like. I'd like to speak privately with... Diana, was it?” The woman in bundled in Dr. Kapatelis's good expensive coat nodded.
“Come on, girls. I know you've already seen the museum a hundred times now, but we have a few new things you might be interested in,” Helena complied as she led the two teenagers away, Vanessa exchanging her own concern for Diana with a glance.
Diana and Dr. Kapatelis stood silently as the girls were somberly led away. As Diana glanced in Vanessa's direction, uncomfortable memories of her own childhood surfaced. Part of her wanted to say to Vanessa's mother what she could not say to her own all those times. But that was not what she was here for.
“Tell me,” Dr. Kapatelis asked once the others were gone, “Do you think a doctor will find anything to support her claims?”
“It is difficult to say,” Diana answered, “I do not know how proficient your doctors are in detecting supernatural influences.”
Dr. Kapatelis’s brow arched skeptically at the word supernatural. “You know what caused the riots?”
“I do. Not because I started them, but because I ended them. The Golden Apples of Dis-”
“Stop,” Dr. Kapatelis interrupted, eliciting a scowl from Diana, “If I wanted to hear about insane theories about magical artifacts or mind control I’d watch the evening news.”
“Then I am unable to provide an answer you would find satisfactory.”
The archaeologist scowled back. Diana’s answer was indeed not satisfactory, and she doubted she would get any real response at this rate. “Let’s get straight to the point,” Dr. Kapatelis stared Diana down directly. “Who are you and what do you want with my family?”
“It’s a long story. My name is Diana, and I only wish to repay the kindness your family...”
“I have already heard this version,” Dr. Kapatelis interrupted again, “It tells me nothing other than your preferred alias and the fact that my family seems to have taken a liking to you. That does not explain why you are in Gateway City in the first place or why you are still taking advantage of my family's kindness. If you were that concerned with repaying them you could stop leeching and move on with whatever it is you’re involved in and leave my family out of it.”
Diana scowled. “I am not taking advantage of anyone. Vanessa and Stephen were kind enough to give me shelter when I had done nothing to earn their trust yet. As for why I am in your city, I am tracking a dangerous enemy who has taken refuge here. It was she who was responsible for your riots.”
“What...”
“I am still speaking,” Diana continued boldly despite the attempted interruption, “I will be as honest with you as I can, but my honor demands that I not reveal certain truths about me, such as the place of my origin. Suffice to say I will honor your city’s laws as well as your wishes to the best of my ability, as long as they do not oppose the search for my quarry. Their crimes are heinous and they will not hesitate to kill innocents. Normally, I would not even think of associating with your family if I thought it could put them in danger, but I believe that your family’s home is remote enough from the city that my enemies will not easily track me there. However, if I am wrong and they do track me to your family’s estate, I have already sworn to do absolutely everything in my power to ensure their safety.”
“And why should I believe you?”
“Where I come from, someone’s word would be enough to trust them. Here I understand things are different though. Your people presume treachery before proven honest. Then allow my actions to prove my intentions.” For the first time in a long while, instead of looking down on others, Dr. Kapatelis felt as if someone was staring her in the eye on a completely level field, and it greatly irritated her.
Vanessa and Etta waited in one of the main exhibit rooms, decorated in the style of an old 40’s movie theater, recovering from the earlier verbal lashing. They both smiled when Helena returned with three small boxes of popcorn. Neither of them bothered to ask if this circumvented the usual rules against food in the museum. “Of all of our new exhibits, this one is my personal favorite,” Helena said with a comforting smile.
The lights dimmed as a movie reel started to play. An old campy soundtrack played over grainy footage. White text faded onto the screen as announcer read them aloud. “When the United States entered World War II, Diana Trevor not only served her country as a high-ranking instructor of the Women’s Air Corps, she also flew among the greatest pilots of the era, the Blackhawk Squadron. But she was shot down behind enemy lines by none other than the equally legendary Enemy Ace. Instead of being captured or going into hiding, Diana Trevor continued to fight the enemy on their own turf, waging a one-woman guerilla war against the Axis regime.
These are The Adventures of Lady Blackhawk.”
The title card boldly appeared on the screen as the 70’s over dogfights, explosions and choreographed fight scenes as campy rock theme poured from the speakers.
“Lady Blackhawk! Lady Blackhawk!
All the world is waiting for you
And the challenges you do
In your leather tights
Fighting for your rights
And the old red white and blue- ooooohhhh!”
“Aw man, they don’t do terrible, campy 70’s theme songs like they used to. I wonder why you don’t see anything like this in modern television,” Vanessa whispered excitedly.
“Probably because it’s a terrible, campy 70’s theme song,” Etta commented as she thumbed through a nearby pamphlet, reading it aloud. “In 1975, Diana Trevor was immortalized in the hit television series The Adventures of Lady Blackhawk. The series ran for six seasons, and the plot was loosely based off of witness accounts of Diana Trevor’s exploits when she was stuck behind German lines in World War II. Most of these accounts, while suitable for entertainment, are likely just embellishments designed to weaken Axis morale of the time, then exaggerated even more for television. Let me guess, your mom wrote that.”
“It does seem to have that trademark cynicism,” Helena commented before quickly adding, “Please don’t tell your mother I said that.”
Vanessa smiled as the nostalgic show continued. “I remember when me and Cassie would dress up as Lady Blackhawk and her sidekick for Halloween. We did that, what, three years in a row? Is she going to be here today, Ms. Sandsmark? I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her.”
“She’s... grounded,” Helena hesitantly replied.
“For what?” Vanessa asked without thinking.
“Shh, the show’s about to start,” Helena said quickly changing the subject.
The camera slowly zoomed in on an imposing medieval castle on a dark and stormy night. “It’s only a model,” Etta quipped, only to be hushed by the other two.
“At last! Mein sinister plan ist almost complete!” the buxom ‘scientist’ on screen in a Frankenstein lab coat with thick rubber gloves cackled in front of clearly decorative equipment. In the center of her spacious laboratory a muscled, shirtless man was strapped to a large machine, the black eagle of the Nazi party tattooed to his chest. “Soon my pet, you vill embody herr Hitler’s true vision for mankind! You vill valk ze earth not ast a mere mortal, but ast a true ÜBERMENSCH!”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” declared a figure standing in the window, lightning painting her silhouette in the most dramatic of fashions. She wore a black leather mockup of the original Blackhawk uniform, complete with white gloves and a miniskirt.
“Lady Blackhawk! How did you find my secret laboratory?” the villain recoiled in poorly feigned shock.
Lady Blackhawk leapt from the window, landing on her feet. “It’s a giant castle in the middle of Germany. Not exactly subtle,” she scolded.
“You’ll never stop my vork! Guards!” the scientist called out, and suddenly Nazi troops poured into the room from multiple exits. “Clip zat hawk’s vings by any means necessary!” The troops rushed Lady Blackhawk one at a time, despite that each of them were supposedly carrying machine guns, and Lady Blackhawk easily dispatched of them one by one.
While the episode continued, a large shadow sat down in the front row, but even sitting down the hulking figure still obscured most of the screen.
“Hey, down in front!” Etta shouted. The figure turned around, and one growl from the wrinkled, scarred grimace, highlighted only by the light from the projector, was enough for Etta to immediately shut up, cowering in her seat. Several other tourists took one look at the hulking shadow and fled as quickly as possible. Others, like Vanessa and the others, were too scared to move and hoped he was just there to watch the show.
“I can take any number of these mooks you throw at me!” Lady Blackhawk bragged as she threw the last soldier to the ground.
“Zat’s because zey were just a distraction, mein fraulein!” the villain sneered as she threw a switch down. Lights flickered on and off and the shirtless man did his best impression of being in pain. “Now my Übermensch ist complete!” she laughed triumphantly as the man broke free from his clearly fragile restraints. “Now, mein Übermensch, kill her! Rid me of her meddling once and for all!” The man stepped awkwardly from the machine like the movie monster he was supposed to be. Lady Blackhawk threw two weak punches to his gut, and unlike the other soldiers who fell to the ground instantly, the Übermensch seemed unaffected. He raised his arms awkwardly and somehow managed to grab Lady Blackhawk from behind.
“Now it ist time for my triumphant escape!” the villain ran to a sliding door, where a blonde teenager in a red and gold glittery costume stood confidently in her path. “V-Vonder Girl!”
“That’s Wonder Girl, you lousy Kraut!” the girl declared as she threw a half-hearted punch that missed by a good foot but somehow knocked the villain back over a railing and onto a prop table that shattered on impact with zany sound effects artificially added to the audio track. The villain scientist landed on her butt looking towards the camera with a comically vacant stare. “Come on, Lady Blackhawk! Don’t tell me you need my help against a man.”
“There isn’t a man alive who can beat me in a battle!” Lady Blackhawk quipped as she stomped her stiletto on the Übermensch’s toe. The giant grabbed his foot in pain and hopped around for a bit until Lady Blackhawk took both hands and socked him in the chin, sending him to the ground with much more ease than before.
The scene cut as they gathered the scientist and her experiment together and Wonder Girl lassoed them together. “At last, Lady Blackhawk! We’ve finally caught the elusive Baroness!”
“Yes, and this time, let’s hope that Paula Von Gunther stays caught,” Lady Blackhawk smiled at the camera.
Suddenly the giant in front leapt from his seat. “THIS IS BLASPHEMY!” he screamed in a thick European accent before his fists tore through the concrete walls. “WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?!” Anyone who hadn’t already fled did so now, but as the German giant scanned the room, the glint of a museum ID card caught his eye and he lunged across the room.
Helena was making sure everyone else had gotten out safely, especially Vanessa and Etta, before the giant's muscled hand, grabbed her like a rag doll and slammed her against the wall. “IS THIS YOUR DOING?” he bellowed to the woman, who could only incomprehensibly whimper. “ANSWER ME!” The giant raised a fist to presumably smash her head into the wall.
Suddenly, something zoomed through the air, passing mere inches in front of the giant’s face before being imbedded into the wall. The giant’s attention was momentarily distracted by the green arrow in front of him, and he turned to its source: a hooded archer, bow already drawn with another arrow, balanced on top of the front row, his silhouette plastered against the wall by the light of the projector.
“Intermission’s over, ugly,” Green Arrow smirked, “Now get back to your seat or the next one won’t miss.”
To be continued...