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jsio · 3 years

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EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT

MILES PROWER, ANTI-TAILS

Moebius' true king.

Art by Arealscrog

Archie's wasted character

Who is Miles?

Miles Prower is the Anti equivalent of Tails, from Mobius Prime. He is afew years older, being 11 instead of 8 and much more mature. He still appears to possess Tails' youthful tenacity and desire for independence, but he has a violent rebellious attitude and shows no interest in holding himself to childish things, even though he's only 11 years old himself, hating the nickname "Tails" being an example.

Miles holds his younger counterpart in utter contempt for traits Miles sees as weaknesses, especially how Tails went down the path of Science and technology instead of his magical Chaos force heritage, implying that Miles went down a more mystical path instead of Science, but from what we see in the comic Miles is more in the political field, by that I mean he manipulates all the political aspects of Moebius.

His actions throughout the comic run make him out to be smart, picky, but also cold, calculating and always 5 steps ahead of his own team and Adversaries, this leading to Alicia making him the Suppression Squads leader behind the scenes, while she is the figurehead "ruler."

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That's Anti-Tails, Who throughout this I'll be reffering to as "Miles." Now you may be thinking, "Why make a post on an extremely obscure and hardly used Archie character? Why not someone Like Tails, Shadow or a more popular Archie character?"

Well, it's because I believe that Miles had the potential to be one of Archie's most intresting original characters, I believe he could've easily held his own "Suppression Squad" comic run, but Archie Unfortunately really underused him and wasted his potential, but hey...

That's where us fans come in!

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This post is All about Miles Canonical self, every canon fact I can find about him and his full story in his short run during Pre-Reboot Archie Sonic, and my own personal headcanons in the later post.

But...before I get into any the headcanons, I need to teach those who don't know him about him, I need to talk about his Canonical self..so, let's get into it. Headcanons will be in the follow up post.

Canonical Apprearnces.

(Reworded from the wiki)

First appearance

The first appearance of Anti-Tails was back when the character was just "Evil Tails" and it was of him joining the Anti Freedom fighters in an attempt to take over Mobius Prime, prior to the downfall of Eggman.

He and his evil allies pretended to be the good Mobius Prime versions, and struck knothole with acts of mayhem, vandalism and overall mischief, a common thing on moebius. The real Freedom Fighters soon returned to set things straight, but their initial attempts to defeat the Anti-Freedom Fighters failed as their Anti-Mobius selves knew their moves as well as they did. Sally Acorn came upon the solution: switching combat partners. When he faced Rotor, Evil Tails proved unable to overcome the larger and stronger Mobian. Defeated along with the other Anti-Freedom Fighters, he was sent back to Anti-Mobius, where they continued to cause mayhem despite the efforts of the kindly Dr. Ivo Kintobor (Anti-Robotnik) to stop them.

This was the last we saw Evil Tails for awhile, however we did see a cameo of him along with every other tails when they all came together and formed Titan Tails.

The Suppression Squad

Art by Pota on Pixiv

Some time passed before his next appearance, and in that time "Anti-Mobius" went through changes in its name, now "Moebius." And all the characters changed alongside it.

Miles had assisted Boomer in stealing Dr Kintober's goal posts in order to allow the Suppression Squad to have access to inter-dimensional travel. Scourge obviously took this opportunity and went straight to Mobius Prime, along with a few other members of the SS, Miles being one of them, and they attempted an assult on the Freedom HQ, where we see Miles' and Tails face off, with Miles declaring to not be referrd to as Tails or Anti-Tails, but instead just "Miles".

He also indicated his disgust at Tails for having chosen a path of Science and study, despite having a strong connection to "Chaos force", aka magic. This has led to people believing Miles himself is a magic user.

When Metal Sonic attacked Scourge, believing him to be the real Sonic, Miles stayed back and observed instead of helping his king. Now, you may think that's betrayal, but in reality Miles didn't help because he did not wish to undermine Scourges strength, so instead he observed. Soon after Sonic came onto the scene he showed his willingness to help anyone, even his enimies, and this gave Miles an idea:

Let's team up with the freedom fighters to betray Scourge, that's the new plan.

Miles later met up with Sally, Bunnie, Antonie and Tails to offer an alliance, but didn't let Tails speak and showed his contempt to the original version, telling him, "Please don't talk, little boy, We're trying to have an intelligent conversation." Sally accepted the offer, knowing she needed all the help she could get for taking down Scourge.

Upon returning to Scourge, pretending to be running from the freedom fighters, Scourge asked for a summary on his mission, that being "bomb New Metropolis" but Miles ignored him however, instead reporting to Alicia (Anti-Sally) that his mission was a success. Immediately thereafter, Alicia told the Suppression Squad to, "Show our King just what we think of him", with Boomer and Patch clearly readying for battle

However, Miles was doubling up his betrayal, blasting both Sonic and Scourge back into Moebius for them to Duke it out there, with Boomer sealing the portal behind them. An ethical debate followed this, between Sally, Alicia and Miles, the trio being ordered to get the goal posts ready to be able to return the freedom fighters to Mobius after both groups agreed to make sure Scourge was defeated on Moebius by Sonic

Miles was as shocked as the rest of the group to find Scourge had defeated all of his opponents as Super Scourge. When the rest of the Knothole Freedom Fighters and Suppression Squad were quickly defeated, Scourge turned his sights on Miles, identifying him as the mastermind behind the betrayal.

Miles, cowering in fear, denied his role in betraying Scourge, who was threatening to beat him for his betrayal. However, Miles was saved by Silver the Hedgehog and unlike the rest of his allies, wasn't even hurt. Following Scourge's defeat and Miles' attempt to recruit Buns Rabbot into the Suppression Squad, Miles spoke to Alicia about who would be their new leader. Alicia explained that while she may be the figurehead ruler, they both knew Miles held the real authority at this point, to which Miles grinned.

That was the last we see of Miles in the Archie comics, he unfortunately isn't in the post reboot because he's now owned by Ken Penders, so we'll never see him again. Below is all of his official designs, and after that is my final thoughts on the character.

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My overview of Miles as a character.

I'm no Character analysist so I'll make this short and sweet, my review of Miles is that he's a Character with alot of potential, but he went wasted, not on purpose, but thanks to the lawsuit.

I believe that if that lawsuit never happened, and that arc was closed up nicely Anti-Tails would of became a far more realistic and grounded Character, and probably pretty popular too. Miles to me is a kid who was manipulated into a life of crime and now believes that's what is right, and I think that could of been an arc for him, mellowing out and becoming a true king for the people of Moebius. I also like how when Scourge goes Super and goes to Miles to confront him, he dosent stand up to him, he dosent become strong, but instead he cowers in fear, hes terrified and tries to lie, to me, that makes him feel more grounded, and I like that.

Personally I wish Miles was more popular, I wish he got more spotlight than he did and I wish his story got concluded, but with what we got, I think he's pretty good, and pretty interesting too! I've seen alot of ideas float around for this dude, all of them making sense in they're on way, and to be honest? His lack of story kinda helps make him more accessible.

Tl:Dr: I like Miles alot, and I hope this post helps you lot learn more about him and overall, gets more people down to write with him, draw with him and explore him!

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Would I change him in any way?

Yeah, there's one key part of Miles (from what we got) that I think was wasted. Now, what is that? What would I change about a Character I've mostly praised? Well...

I wish he was magical. In the Archie comics Tails is actually strongly connected to the "Chaos Force", not as connected as Shadow, but still VERY connected, and guess what? Miles and Tails ARE biologically the same, same DNA, and in that bit of the comic, Miles calls Tails out on something he should have no idea about if he himself isn't connected to the same thing (or Moebius equivalent). To me at least this kind of implies Miles is magical too.

Basically, I'd give Miles' moveset a touch of magical abilities, connecting him to Moebius' "Anarchy force". I think it would help separate him abit more from Tails, while also connecting them, because whenever you have science and magic together...they clash.

But yea that's all I'd change in what we got, just hints of magic, some magic attacks here and there. I think it'd be pretty neat, and it'd have the science Vs magic aspect with him and Tails relationship.

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Lets finally wrap this up! At least, for now.

Thank you so much for reading all this If you did, it, this took me alot of hours, and I, I think it's over 2000 words now you madman. Why not spend your time doing something more worthwhile? Why not...have fun? meet someone? Go on a date? Live your life? Why read a post on an obscure Character, mainac.

But in all seriousness thank you for reading my post, I really like this character (clearly) and I want to teach people about him, and I hope this post has done that! Post 2. There's going to be a sequel post going over all of my personal headcanons, and possibly a 3rd going over community ones. Keep ya eyes out~

But yea, big read, now you lot know about an obscure Character, and this was fun to write! But now I'm gonna end this post with a fun fact:

Miles and the Suppression Squad were going to have one more arc, it was teased at the end of issue 196, but unfortunately it never got written. That would of been really neat but unfortunately it never got to happen.

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BON'VOYAGE, HEDGEHOGS!

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fxrzen · 4 years

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🎤 owo

OKAY I HAVE SO MANY HEADCANONS SO I’M GONNA PUT ALL OF THEM HERE IG right so. i’m gonna organize it by character

gordon: i think that he has adhd and that he stims with his hands, specifically wringing and flapping them. he has a lot of issues with hyper focus, but he’s gotten better at it as an adult (it still pops up a lot but. not as bad). he’s touch-starved but he has to be the one who initiates contact with other people/only lets other people initiate contact with him if they ask. i have a lot of really specific headcanons for him and his ex but there’s so many that i might just make a single post for them (bc i like the idea of him having a kid lol. joshua is my baby boy). he likes to cook, but doesn’t do it much because he only really likes doing it if he’s cooking for other people. he’s a closet romance-book reader but like. those trashy dime-novels that are in the book section of walgreens or something. he probably secretly writes reviews of them on like wordpress lol. he prefers cats to dogs, and tea to coffee, but he drinks coffee more because it’s easier to make. he holds onto grudges. benrey: alright so i have so many for the actual nature of benrey’s being, but they’re also spoilers for mtiwie so i won’t get into them. benrey likes to pretend that he only plays action games and stuff like that but he also really enjoys simple idle clickers and other more calm games. he has a lot of texture issues with like, eating and stuff, so he’s a little bit of a picky eater. he has really acute hearing, so much so that it makes him hard for him to hear specific things that people are saying (hence the “huh?” “what?” and all of that stuff). he gets overstimulated really easily because of that, and as a result he likes to be completely submerged in water bc it makes everything a lot more muted. his helmet is a bit of a comfort item for him, but if he feels safe in a situation or safe around the people he’s with he’ll take it off. he’s not super tactile because touch can also get very overwhelming for him, but he enjoys being near other people and if he trusts you he’ll become more tactile. tommy: he has autism, and he primarily stims via fidgeting, be it with specific objects or items, or actions like tapping on things near him. he has dyslexia, although when he was younger it embarrassed him so he hides it out of habit. he gives really good hugs, and he’s very tactile with people he’s friends with, and touch-averse with strangers/acquaintances. he loves bright colors and patterns, and he has a sweet tooth. he’s super super smart!! he can type at like 130 wpm. he has a stutter, which gets worse when he’s feeling strong emotions. he’ll read whatever he can get his hands on, a residual habit from when he was younger and trying to fix his dyslexia, and a love of knowledge as he got older. he likes stuffed animals because he can stim with the textures of their fur/fabric, and sunkist sleeps in his bed bc having another presence next to him while he sleeps makes him sleep better. he can’t cook but he can bake really well. he likes to be the last person to leave any room that he’s in, just so that he can make sure everyone is still there. coomer: he can sing, like, surprisingly well, although he doesn’t do it much. he likes to clean, and does it compulsively when he gets nervous. he likes to be perceived as endlessly optimistic, which is why he speaks in positive tones, but he won’t shy away from stating that he’s feeling otherwise. he’s not incredibly tactile, but he isn’t touch-averse either? he just sort of rolls with the flow. he has an eidetic memory, so it makes him nervous if he can’t remember things right off the bat. he likes to wear bright colors, even if they don’t necessarily work together. he broke his nose back in his boxing days, and it never quite set properly, so if you look closely you’ll see that it’s crooked. he likes cold weather and enjoys walking in the rain. he prefers dogs to cats, although when asked to choose between them he’ll say he likes them both equally lol. bubby: turtlenecks. bubby’s ideal look is like. dr. doofenshmirtz. that’s his fashion icon. he pretends to take compliments really well, but if someone he cares about compliments him externally he’s like. yeah i know. and then internally he’s just. ghdjfksgdfslabkhgkbgfdkjgghskjf. he’s really tactile but like. on the dl. so if someone comments on it he won’t touch them for like a week. he’s super smart, and he knows it, but he’s only vocal about it because he doesn’t want to be forgettable. back when he was still being developed he was threatened with being discarded as a prototype if he wasn’t the best, so he began to habitually emphasize how smart/talent/good he was. he hates being cold, and he has acute claustrophobia. he doesn’t play many video games, but benrey forced him to play sonic once and he saw shadow and was like... bro wait a minute and got attached to him. he can both cook and bake really well, but the only person who knows that is coomer.

#ask #ask game #anon #long post #kate speaks #hlvrai #half live vr but the ai is self aware

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theunholygrails · 5 years

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Very Differently

Summary: This isn’t really new, just something I never got around to posting here. Basically my take on Budapest with an OC added to the mix for fun.

Masterlist

Zdravstvuyte

The shadows cast from the wastefully clad guests in the soft angles and indecipherable masses were notably more elegant than the calculating frowns of their creators. A gloved hand traced along a freshly polished curling oak banister as Sonja made her was to join the babbling benefactors. Leaflets of conversations rustled not long enough to take root but simply flew past on the careful air of disinterest her fellow hosts held about them. With a sharp nod of her head and a demure curve of her lips, she joined the nearest transaction.

Arms dealing can be tricky business when neither party particularly trusted the other.

Jewels painted the necklines of her most generous buyer and in their pristine surfaces, she could make out the warning flash of the smallest red dot. Sonja shifted with a subtle flip of her hair to block the shot and simultaneously tapped her earpiece.

“Ma’am, I do believe my husband is coming down with something fatal.” she said.

Even if she did not have a husband to speak of, the message was abundantly clear—the event was compromised because Black Widow herself was present.

“Take care of it, Chief. I need this night to be spotless.”

“Got it.”

Security hustled onto the floor at Sonja’s signal to escort each of the dozen or so guests back to their armored vehicles.

With the prompting of her boss in her ear, Sonja slipped out the back door to attempt to uncover any tracks the Widow might have left behind.

The wet asphalt did little to help her heels find traction as she scanned the nearest buildings for the optimal vantage point the spy must have taken to train a snipper on people under her protection. With the rest of her security team busy locking down the premises, she was left to the goose chase even though looking for tracks from this particular prey was about as promising as searching for footprints after a storm.

She tensed when something popped right beside her ear and the sharp slap of metal hit her cheek. She scolded her hammering heart and forced a calm gaze to the arrow that kissed her skin and was now imbedded in the wall. Her hand went to the dual blades tucked against her thighs knowing full well that any assassin after her would not be foolish enough to miss twice.

A test of her ear piece told her its signal had been knocked out somehow. A heavy pair of boots splashed down beside her and she whipped into a defensive pose before the archer could cut her mission short.

The man kneeling across from her had his bow pressed to the ground and his black stealth suit clinging to him like any woman in her proper mind would in a scenario a little less lethal than this. Given a situation where she were allowed to use her real name and wash the blonde dye from her hair, she might have done just that because his looks were wasted on the dark, filthy streets of Samara, Russia.

“Hello, easy, Chief. I’m not here for you. Sonic took out your communications, also I was listening in a little bit, Ma’am is a weird name. Is that like the birth one or did she rename herself that? I’m looking for the Widow. You know anything?”

“Does anyone?” she flicked her blades so they would glint in warning beneath the lazy stars.

“They sent one person out to challenge her? Seems a little under kill. Unless you’re just the bait.”

She advanced a step to show just how much of a danger she truly was. His mouth curved up in amusement when he rose from his crouch. “You’re not going to let me leave,” he said.

“I fear my boss will want to speak with anyone chasing her.”

“Knew better,” he sighed. “Alright, let’s do this before I have to check out of my hotel.”

Her first swipe cut only into nothing as he swiveled around to her back. She feigned left, sweeping her right foot back to catch his ankles.

“Woah, who taught you that?” he demanded, dancing over the attack.

While she paused to process his stunned remark his completely unstunned body cracked his bow against her forehead. She grabbed at his forearm, twisting until it clattered free of his grip. “Quiet, American.”

“Was it Hill?” he carried on. “You with S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Now she faltered and he did not take the opportunity to jam any of his color coordinated arrows into her temple.

“I wasn’t told of another operative here,” he babbled.

She slammed her shoulder into his chest and landed him flat on his ass where she could properly threaten him.

“I’m handling it.”

“This is about as under control as a mouse wrestling a snake.”

“You realize I’m pinning you right,” she demanded, dropping her knees to either side of his hips and pressing the flats of her blades against either of his wrists.

“That means nothing. I’m letting you. Just so you know, they asked me to do your job first. Also, the first and last fight I had with the Widow ended with my jaw dislocated. That was back when I cornered her in Milan. That makes me a mouse too.”

“Sadly, I think that just makes more dinner for the snake instead of an overwhelming force.”

He shrugged his eyebrows and glanced down pointedly. With a sigh she crawled to sit beside him as he grunted and rolled onto his stomach. Hands propped under his head as princess worthy blue eyes fluttered up at her. “Feel better? I think you missed bruising one of my ribs if you wanted a clean sweep.”

“I was going to ask why Fury didn’t tell me you were coming, but pretending you don’t exist does seem to be the only way to deal with your bullshit.”

“Supposed to be super top fucking secret but since you kind of outed me, not cool by the way, want to work together to charm a snake?”

“Is she a spider or a snake, man? Make up your damn mind.”

He rocked back, clutching his knees as a laugh barreled through him. “Oh, I like you. You don’t get a say now. We’re working together. Got something more stealthy than that yellow dress?”

***

She did not give one rat’s ass how he got into her apartment only that he could have possibly blown her cover.

“Brought flowers. Told the doorman I wanted to surprise you.”

“Was the surprise that I had a boyfriend?” she deadpanned as she shrugged off her bulky overcoat.

“Fiancé, when he asks but that’s not why I’m here. I need your help bringing her in. She vanished, shook all my tracking abilities. From what I hear, you’re pretty handy with the underworld system.”

“If you hear anything then I’m doing my job wrong. Why would you want her brought in anyway? Isn’t protocol to take out someone that rouge and dangerous?”

He gave his knees a firm pat before pushing off them to match their heights. “I think she could prove an asset. I made this call. If it goes south, it’s on me. I know I’m asking you to compromise yourself but from what I can tell, the Widow is more involved in mafia’s inner working than the little crew you head. We find her, we get you your hot target too.”

“Ma’am is a pretty cold-hearted bitch from ghost chatter I’ve picked up.”

A tug of his grey hoodie secured it around his face for a safety net just in case anyone was spying in from the dirt smeared window to their right. Sonja was afforded no such luxury because her face was always bared to the world. She was buried way too deep in her world of shit to risk disguises. “Funny. We should work well together.”

“What’s your clearance?” She demanded.

The space of her apartment was deemed worthy of her retailer to host grand parties of up to a dozen people but she already felt stuffy with his confident presence entirely too close to her though he remained clear across the green wallpapered room with his feet twisting into her recently purchased, hand woven rug. It was probably worth three times his ratty boots with its intricate depiction of a fanfare of angels descending the heavens; this man was no angel.

“Alpha.”

“That doesn’t exist. Ten is the highest. I would know, I was the reason they created it.”

A tilt of his head told her he was only amused with her declaration and not in awe like all other inferiors she came across. “Welcome to Alpha then. I’ll fill you in on the plane.”

“I thought you didn’t know where she was.”

“I said she shook me. That doesn’t mean I don’t know her well enough to predict where she would go. Pack light, Budapest can be unforgiving this time of year.”

“Got a name?”

“Got a code, Hawkeye. Yours?”

“Zero.”

***

Being nearly run over three time while crossing a single street was a personal record for Sonja. Hawkeye was weighed down beneath a tan backpack filled with waters, old and clunky laptops, maps, granola bars (as if she could live off of those along), and a very distinct lack of weapons. Hawkeye had insisted on leaving them behind because airport security did not make exceptions for undercover agents and using a private jet would raise too many eyebrows. He had extracted her daggers from her and then held his hand out expectantly for the spares he could not have known she kept tucked neatly between her planner and wallet in her purse. She felt slightly less naked when he tossed his bow as well but still would rather not relying on their combined wit and charm since her partner appeared to be painfully lacking in both and making up for it with 100 proof sarcasm.

The wind buckled with the weight of the dry air it carried and tugged at the ends of Sonja’s hastily dyed and chopped off brunette locks. A sunhat kept the loose waves mashed against her face and even bigger sunglasses kept the prying sun at bay along with Hawkeye’s dancing glances back to make sure she was keeping up with his soundless steps.

“Come on,” he called even though the only closer she could have been to him would be to just piggyback it.

“Where is the safe house again?” she called over the roar of traffic.

He pause while a couple bustled between them, their heads bent in deep conversation then nodded politely to a minister though she doubted his devilish grin could even point out a church. “Next block. You wanna take over bag duty? I’ve got this crick in my neck I haven’t been able to shake since the plane.”

“That’s because you were stupid enough to sleep on the plane. On my shoulder no less. There’s a drool stain.”

The bag was tossed at her chest where her hands caught it without the aid of her gaze leaving his. “If your posture was more slumped we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Excuse me for remaining vigilant.”

“Trust me, your people don’t know you’re missing yet. You’ve probably got until noon.” His eyes skipped between his blank wrist and the sun overhead to judge the time. “And once we get set up with internet, I will clear the airways of anything we might have left behind. Say, do you think you could give me some sort of reaction? The constant dead expression is a bit intimidating.”

“I can see why the Widow dislocated your jaw, you talk too much.”

She spotted the covert insignia for S.H.I.E.L.D. and pushed past him to key in the day’s number sequence for entrance. There was distinct absence of air conditioning when they entered the stale room sitting on the basement level of what appeared to be the back of a tourist ice cream shop. Hawkeye’s bulky jacket hit the floor then his paisley shirt was tossed over the back of a chair that used to be sand colored but appeared to have been recently stained with globs of red. His back hit the ground as he fiddled with the window unit and Sonja set to toeing along the perimeter of their quarters.

She came across the outlet first sitting adjacent to the Ethernet cable in the far right corner. After depositing the backpack for him to fiddle with later on, she peeled off her overcoat and tank top while she stuck her head into the bathroom to check on the water situation. What trickled from the sink was lukewarm at coldest and the pressure in the shower was laughable but at least the toilet flushed and air freshener hung from the doorknob. Its orange tree shape was swinging in the next moment as blessed air filled the cramped space.

Sonja emerged from the bathroom with her sports bra held away from her damp skin. “Guess you are useful.”

“Do me a favor and check the freezer.” He toed off his boots as he walked, adding more of his shit to the mess that made her fingers twitch to clean only slightly.

“Think they left us frozen dinners? Because you’re health nut bars are not going to cut it Hawk.”

“I’ll order pizza for us,” he called with a wink as he tapped away on the booting up monster of a laptop.

She grumbled her response and pried open the rusted closed freezer doors that concealed an inside that somehow felt hotter than the oven of a city. Two metal cases rested inside, one smaller and snugly sitting atop

“You know how to defuse bombs right?” she called, eyes tracing the otherwise empty white cubicle for any wire or trigger.

“That’s a no. They’re presents from Fury.”

She did not move to take his word for it but instead carefully shifted the boxes sideways while sliding her hand where they sat in case it was weight sensitive. When she felt only the sleek, flat bottom, she cautiously picked up the bottom box from either edge with just the tips of her fingers and walked it as far away from Hawkeye as she could manage.

“For Christ’s sake, Z. I special requested those. Look, the code is 1971 on the bigger one and all zeroes on the other because I’m brilliant. If those don’t work then you can pull out your bomb squad suit.” He strode over, task forgotten, and squatted beside her kneeling form. “I’m not sure whether I’m offended you don’t trust me or flattered you’re trying to keep my out of harm's way.”

She flinched when he keyed in the numbers and passed her the first case carelessly before punching in his own and flipping the lid up to reveal and brand-spanking-new carbon fiber and purple streaked bow.

“Stealthy.” Sonja pulled out her own sleek new dagger set. Four blades so sharp just the skimming of her fingers drew their first blood. “Gorgeous.”

“I’m going to assume both of those were for me. Look, since I slept earlier, you take this round and I’ll wake you when night says it's time to move.”

When she made no move to do as such, he groaned and jutted out his hand. “Clint,” he said.

“What,” she snapped.

“That’s my name. Clint Barton. 1971 is the year I was born.”

“Is this supposed to make me trust you?”

“What? You want my social security number? Passport? Birth certificate? To be honest, I have so many of those I probably couldn’t pinpoint the original for you.”

She glanced down to hide the smiled curving up her lips and tucked a single dagger into her calf high sock. After refolding the hem of her khaki shorts, she felt composed enough to meet his impatient blue eyes. His smile was quick and brilliant and caught her so off guard she returned it, still vulnerable from the previous moments.

“There she is. Listen miss bomb technician, that why they call you zero? Because of the countdown? Anyway, if you don’t sleep you risk both our asses tonight and I happen to have a fine ass. As a gentleman I have not checked yours out but I am willing to bet that it’s at least half as good as mine.”

“If I go to sleep will you shut up?”

He touched his scarred knuckles against her cheek and lugged his new toys over to the ancient ones where he set up shop for the next few hours. The flimsy mattress with springs poking out every few inches was tucked away between the window and the front door and Sonja barely got her coat down on it before her head crashed against her arm for her pillow and her eyes tapped out.

***

do svidaniya

Clint’s version of a gentle awakening was a kick to her foot as he passed by. Of course, her leg swept out in defense and he landed face first on the mattress beside her. Her groggy eyes blinked open at him and promptly scowled at the dumbfounded expressions holding even his usual smart ass comment at bay.

“We better be under attack,” she grumbled, failing when she attempted to remove her already asleep arm from beneath his heavy torso.

It took him an alarming number of seconds to compose an answer and she squinted through sleep crust to glare at him. His lips parted then apparently he discovered them too dry to speak because his tongue swept out and at this proximity, so close she would not even have to reach to strangle him, the smell of his lingering bubblegum toothpaste pulled her fully into reality.

The same abrupt force that stilled him froze her from shoving him off the bed. She blamed the dreams still singing to her but the more likely cause was his hand which had by the damnation of some god landed on the dip of her waist, not her ass or her breast, which would be far simpler to explain the skip in her chest.

His recovery was like watching a runner recover from a particularly nasty hurdle “Afraid your mafia is running a little behind schedule, so we have to go out and meet them. Gear up.”

He grunted when her knee sent him rolling to the floor next.

“What time is it, Hawk?”

“2100. Think you bruised my bladder.”

Her change of clothes were swept up and the bathroom door slammed between them and the meager form of water she coaxed from the sink drowned out the breath she heaved from her lungs. The woman staring back at her was faded and spotted where the mirror was tarnished from the years without maintenance.

There was scarcely enough time to worry about saving her own skin let alone playing guess that hormone with an archer she met two days ago. A quick coaching session of her emotions and the addition of a black beanie, matching under armor shirt, and a lightweight bullet proof vest she emerged, undoing the button to her shorts after regretfully noticing the absence of the last bit of her uniform.

Clint lounged in front of the air unit in identical gear, hands folded across his pulled in knees so that the muscles fought against the fabric of his shirt. “Didn’t know pants were optional,” he called as she neatly folded her shorts beside their supply bag and produced the cargo pants that would be hiding her weapons for the evening. “I did appreciate that silky number you wore for me on our first mission,” he continued.

A belt secured the bottoms and after shoving her feet into the boots she stomped one down dangerously close to his most vulnerable bits and offered a sweet smile down at him.

“Think the world has one too many eunuchs as it is. Next time you want me to tie your laces try a nice ‘Clinton, would you be a dear and tie my fucking shoes?’”

“Don’t I feel like Cinderella?”

Deft fingers made quick work of her laces and she was still admiring the knots she could not even begin worrying about how to undo when he stood and shouldered his bow.

“Let’s go catch a spider, Z.”

“Let’s take down the Samarian crew as well while we’re at it.”

The night was their friend, lending its heaviest cloud cover from the stars that dared shine from the moonless sky as they jogged through the still bustling city’s alleys.

They passed a meat truck making a last minute delivery and Clint offered the driver the nod of his head before prodding Sonja’s body to pick up the speed as if they were out for a jog instead of on the tracks of the most dangerous woman on any side of the world. She shifted out of his reach, none too content on having her mind replay its earlier clash with emotions for the rest of the mission.

The building where Clint’s found surveillance footage last picked up her image was tucked between the river and the last wall of structures. A fishing shack where Sonja doubted the lights from the horn riddled bridge now stretching over their heads could penetrate if a paid professional like herself were taking shelter there.

Rounding the last bend on the downward slanting street, Clint caught her belt loop and pulled her against the crumbling brick building that smelled like moss and moldy bread. She bent her knees to keep from slipping down the slope on the loose cobblestones beneath their feet and still managed to subtly maneuver further from him because his aftershave was making repeating the plan like a mantra in her head a thing for the birds.

“Hey, you with me, Zero? You remember what we talked about?”

“Not dying or the not fucking up part?”

“See, I knew you weren’t listening to me.”

“Relax, Hawk. I’ve been doing this since I was toddling.”

“Really? Diapers for me.”

She swatted his arm when his blue eyes danced with humor and closed her own to reel herself back in.

“Seriously, though, you up for this? Because I can go in alone…”

“Like, hell, Hawk. You’re long range, I distract. Stick to it.”

He held out his knuckles wrapped in fingerless gloves that would help his aim. With a laugh disguised as a groan, she knocked hers against his and watched as he began scaling the fire escape to the tops of the connected houses leading to the perfect vantage point.

It took the coaxing of the restless waves to remind her that she too did not have the fortune of sitting still and allowing her already spiraling life to make Budapest its final resting place.

The traps took precious time to pick out--a motion detector from the front porch, a snoring dog with paws running in the air when she slipped around to the side, an electrical ward along the single sealed window, and finally a good old fashioned set of cans on the roof she managed to climb on. Sonja crouched on the narrow ledge of the none-too-secure roofing tiles, still off balance from her misjudged landing.

The cans, a mix of unopened green peas for which Sonja could not blame her and chili whose lids appeared to have been ripped off by bare hands, were stacks to at least twice her height and made a perfect circle around what she had to assume was another vulnerable entrance. From her original distance of spotting from the bridge with Clint, it had appeared merely another level of the shack which she could scale but now was proving to be just a pain in her ass. She circled on feet quieter than death to the side where Clint could see her and held out her hands helplessly.

“No in?” He said over the ear piece.

A shake of her head was the answer she knew his strapped on night goggles could pick up.

“Alright, hold on.”

“Clint!” she hissed out as an idea struck.

“Hell of a time to break out the Christian name.”

“Knock out the electricity on window.”

“I know you remember how these sonic arrows work. Our communication will be cut off and I know you’ll miss this sweet watchful voice, Z.”

“Sonja,” she whispered, hunching down on her knees and throwing a finger down as if he did not know the window she intended.

“No, sonic.”

“That’s my name you moron. You’ve got to trust me. Just shoot it.”

There was that hesitation from him again, she was beginning to understand how his head worked. The job was simple, something he was trained beyond reason for, but she was a variable he had to carefully calculate into the equation.

“Alright. I’m right behind you.”

“I know. Just don’t miss.”

She heard the smile in his response, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“Are we really resorting to quoting Star Wars right now?”

“Fire in the hole, Sonja.”

The arrow struck home with a muted thwack and Sonja slid down onto the windowsill throwing a thumbs up into the now unresponsive night as she jimmied her dagger around to unlock the window. A second blade joined her free hand when she ducked inside.

The first thing she noticed was the complete lack of interior decoration just like their own safe house and the second unfortunately was that the insides were also void of any inhabitants. Why so much security without anything to protect?

There was a knock at the front door and a moment later Sonja remembered the power surge would also have affected the motion detector. She wearily trudged over before sliding into a defensive position when she flung the door back.

She saw the Black Widow first and her arrogant smirk followed by the prompting of an arrow to her skull.

“Plan B then?” Sonja called as Clint jostled their target into the room.

“I thought we agreed this was the more likely alternative,” he said. “Making it plan A.”

Sonja shrugged and pulled the handcuffs from her calf pocket before moving to snap them securely around the Widow’s ankles. The woman grunted as a green glow filled the room and a shift of her hips proved her unable of even lifting her feet.

When Sonja straightened and reached to tuck a stray strand of hair back into her braid, the woman finally spoke. “Props.” she said.

“Thanks, we’ve been practicing that last bit for hours now. I was really worried about the execution.” Clint strolled around to the front of their captive, pockets bulging with confiscated weapons.

“Not you, Barton. I knew you were on my ass for months. Her I wasn’t even looking for.”

Sonja crossed her arms. “Case. Point. What’s your real name?”

“Natasha Romanov.”

The plain reply jarred both her and her partner equally and Clint took her arm, walking her as far back into the room as he could manage before inclining his forehead to make the whisper easier hear. “She’s going to try to play a game with us. Anyone around her is instantly compromised. I need you to stay with me.”

A sharp nod answered him and his grin danced with mischief as he swung back around to stroll over to Natasha with his bow forgotten and swinging in his left hand. Sonja did not even feign relaxation but rubbed her thumbs over the sweating hilts of her daggers.

“This about the Avengers initiative? I read all about it last week,” Natasha said.

“You know it is. That’s why you let us capture you.”

“Let?” Sonja’s arms slipped from their protective frame.

Clint pushed on, feigning deafness when Sonja knew good and well his hearing aids were in. “You’ve got a nasty ledger and S.H.I.E.L.D. only wants to help you rectify it through the Avengers.”

“Avengers?” Sonja questioned.

“I’m fine where I am,” Natasha retorted giving the glowing shackles weighing down her feet a good tug and only ending up on her knees which, despite the powerless position, she somehow conveyed was right where she wanted to be.

Clint sighed and dropped as well. “You’re fine painting every city you go to with blood for people you don’t even know? The Avengers are going to protect the world and we want you to be a part of that.”

“Cute speech. Did Sonja feed it to you? You’re not bright enough to try the emotion ploy.”

Sonja was too busy puzzling how she knew her name to reply. That’s when the first bullet cut through the air and buried itself clean in Clint’s left calf. When he keeled forward in pain, Natasha swiped the gun tucked into the back of his belt and began firing to cover all their asses.

Lurching forward, Sonja kicked the door shut and pried her pistol from her belt as her back smacked against the wall. “Clint!” she called when he finally lifted himself from the ground.

“You led the Samarians here!” Natasha shouted as bullets pelted the door and walls relentlessly.

“Whoops,” Clint managed.

“Damn right you’re gonna need my help with the Avengers if you can’t even manage to stay off their radar. I assume you at least had an escape route in place.”

Clint wiped his bloody hand off on his shirt and primed an arrow for release should their defenses be breached by the crew. “Boat out back.”

“You’re gonna have to uncuff me.” Natasha called, firing precisely through an already fragile portion of the wall to produce a thunk of dead weight only a few yard away.

The deadly accuracy made Clint hesitate as he added in yet another variable, but Sonja just tossed the keys without a word and returned to keeping her gun aimed at the door.

“Barton go first and we’ll cover you,” Natasha called as she dodged a bullet cutting entirely too close to her brain. When she sat up straight again a line of red across her forehead added to her already flaming hair and scarlet pjs look.

Clint’s gaze snapped to Sonja unwavering in its unspoken question: would she be ok alone?

“Get out of here, Hawkeye,” she added the last bit to help him depersonalize, to remind him this was just a mission and all lives involved were expendable. “I’m right behind you,” she continued when he did not move.

His mouth curved up as he heaved himself onto mostly steady feet and sprinted to the backdoor while Sonja and Natasha laid down cover fire until both were down a clip. “Together?” Natasha called.

“Hell, why not?”

Sonja leapt up first, followed shortly by the much faster woman. The night air was thick with humidity that only pooled more sweat on their skin. On the free side of the house, a man screamed as the now awakened guard dog set to work. The other side was occluded by the closely stacks buildings and on the water just ahead, Clint revved the waiting engine of the speed boat.

Natasha waded into the water and slung her leg over the side, hauling herself on board in one fluid motion. Sonja had time to see her eyes go wide before she heard the other female voice cut through the night, “Chief!”

A sword was leveled at her instead of a gun and Sonja had the absolute pleasure of facing her old boss when she turned around. “Ma’am,” she replied without a trace of emotion.

She heard the cock of Natasha’s gun along with the wiry draw of Clint’s bow and briefly wondered if he could even keep his hands steady at the moment due to the blood loss.

“Or is it Agent Zero now?”

“Whatever you prefer, Ma’am.”

“Shall we settle this like the duals of old or has all your honor gone through the window with the american?”

Sonja heard Natasha grumble about being ignored as she tucked her gun into her pocket and produced a dagger. The other hand reached for her back pocket slower all the while keeping her opponent's gaze fixed on her words. Ma’am’s bulky henchmen fanned out behind her patiently waiting to be allowed to have some fun with the traitor and spy.

“What can I say? He brought presents.”

She waited the appropriate ten seconds for the meaning behind her words to smash into Clint before she pulled the pin. The homemade grenade sailed from her hand while her body was flung in the other direction. Her side slammed into the boat and Natasha just managed to get a drip on her belt before Clint slammed the throttle into its highest gear. He was ducked on the floor by the steering console for safety just as Natasha had thrown herself beneath the low walls at Clint’s advisement.

“When did you even have time to make that?” he demanded, driving blindly down the wide river.

“You’re the one who apparently knows everything,” she snapped.

“Christ, I’m sorry, alright. You weren’t cleared to know.” He paused then turned to her while Natasha huffed and took over driving. “Zero failed missions?”

“Guess again.”

“Zero like you were the original?”

“You’re not cleared, asshole.”

***

Natasha made airports her bitch with the new fresh faced S.H.I.E.L.D recruits scurrying behind her toting her luggage and a flight attendant rushing to retrieve her properly iced water. She shot Sonja a lazy wink but the other woman was too busy scowling away any potential disturbances to do anything other than reshoulder her backpack.

Clint took the lead, his reputation sending the herd of freshmen scattering in his wake of glory. Sonja quickened her steps, determined to talk to him now that the paramedics aboard their evac copter were no longer shooting him full of drugs.

“You’re not careless,” she said once she matched long legs to his abrupt stride.

“Think Nat will make them carry her?” he mused, wincing when he stopped focusing on his uneven gait.

Sonja caught under his arm and he glanced over through sleep deprived blue eyes and the tangles his cropped hair had somehow managed to tie itself into. “You gonna make me carry you?” she countered.

“I’ve got it.”

The usual airport crowd of proud mothers, blubbering fathers, and excitable kids ready to go off and make lives for themselves meandered past them. Sonja wondered what life awaited her back at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

“I was born there, you know. S.H.I.E.L.D that is. Born and raised. I don’t exist to our government because S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t. I’m nothing, I’m just zero.”

“I let the Samarians follow us,” he admitted in the breath after she finished her confession.

“I know. You’re not careless. You needed a common enemy for us to get Romanov on our side.”

“I was going to apologize for ruining your original mission, but I think all of earth takes precedence. We wouldn’t have made it out of there if not for you.”

“Taking out Ma’am was my mission Clint. Yesterday was the first time I saw her in person. I spent years working my way up through the ranks only to figure out I would only ever be important to her when I betrayed her.”

“You’re welcome, then.” He leaned in when he sang it and she gave his face a shove away as they exited the building through sliding glass doors and reached a junction in the sidewalk where she would climb into the car that would carry her home and he would get in his rental and drive out to his next mission.

“How long has it been since you’ve been stateside?”

“Just four years. I haven’t been home since I was a teenager, though when I completed my training.”

“You don’t have to face those bastards, you know. I’ve got something involving lightning and a hammer waiting for me. Could use some backup I trust.”

“Sounds alpha level. I’ll leave you to it.”

He nodded, shifting his weight off his bad leg and closing the humming space between their bodies just enough for her to notice it was deliberate. Her hand shifted under the strap of her bag while she toed at some bits of loose gravel beneath her sneakers.

“Guess this is goodbye, then. Keep an eye on Nat for me, will you? She respects you.”

“Only because she was comparing me to you.”

His mouth pulled up in a smile she had grown all too accustomed to seeing regularly and had truthfully taken for granted now that he was leaving. The civil term of closer inspection crossed her mind as she leaned in further still followed by the embarrassing real word she had been searching for--a kiss.

She could not even recall the last time she had kissed someone without an ulterior motive. She expected him to politely return it or to laugh and tell her to collect herself, not for him to bite her lip and slide his lips between hers like the whole damn earth might spin off course if he did not. His hands were soft in her hair and his hand slid down tracing over her cheek so that his fingers replaced his lips when he reluctantly pulled away.

“Put a pin in that, Sonja?”

“You mean like when I pinned you? Or what I pulled the pin on the grenade?”

“No explosions and no more beating me up.” He punctuated his sentence with a rushed kiss to her forehead. “Unless we can twist those into kinky things.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Natasha called as she strolled past and climbed into the waiting black SUV.

Sonja gave his chest a push and took two controlled steps backwards simply because if she didn’t there was no guarantee either of them would be setting out on their respective journeys today.

“Goodbye,” Sonja said.

With a wink that sent her spiraling higher than the pyres of Moscow’s finest cathedrals Clint Barton was gone.

#clint barton #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton smut #clint barton x reader #clint x reader #hawkeye #Avengers #avengers headcanon #avengers smut #avengers imagine #avengers drabble

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raywritesthings · 5 years

Text

Fade In, Fade Out 1/2

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Earth 2 Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Quentin Lance, Barry Allen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Pretending to be her deceased doppelganger has as many drawbacks as it does benefits, so Black Siren decides it’s time to really switch things up on her enemies and allies alike. Oliver is confronted with his true feelings once again and must finally make a choice. *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in bio*

Laurel Lance, formerly of Earth 2, had a problem. Well, several problems. Actually, they were all the same problems she’d had before, only now they were even more compounded by the precarious position she’d placed herself in. Namely, impersonating a dead woman.

It had been the best way to ensure she could no longer be held by this or that group in this or that cell. She’d been tired and hurting and so, so fed up with it all. So she’d let herself finally do the one thing she’d been avoiding for almost two years now: be seen.

Now she was Laurel Lance, miraculously rescued darling of Star City. A former ADA with a sterling reputation and a loving family and friends. How nice.

While it had bought her a temporary reprieve, it was clear this had not solved all her problems the way she’d hoped it might. Diaz was still sending his men sniffing around to threaten her and her doppelganger’s father. The bitch in the Black Canary suit was still breathing down her neck, probably barely holding back thanks to her team. And this Earth’s Oliver was continuing his sanctimonious bull about caring one minute then pulling back the next and pretending as if they were perfect strangers.

He was worried she was going to ruin his Laurel’s reputation. Maybe she should, since he’d pretty thoroughly wrecked her own image of Ollie, try as she might to maintain him in her mind. But doing anything too out of character for this Earth’s Laurel would just put her right back into danger.

Her old way of doing things had lacked security, but now it was hard for her to make any kind of move thanks to public scrutiny. She needed to be able to get away; a new fresh start on this godforsaken Earth. But she needed to keep Diaz and all her other enemies looking one way while she snuck off in the other direction. But how to do it?

And then, it turned out, the opportunity presented itself.

Quentin, her doppelganger’s father, took a call late one night. It was from this Earth’s Thea Queen, who was apparently saying goodbye.

“And Nyssa thinks there’s more of these Pits? Well that’s, that’s something… I’ve never even heard of these places you’re saying. Ojos del — well, whatever you said. And where’s that Kamchatka, that sounds — oh, Russia. Yeah, I wouldn’t have guessed that. Well, you’ll be seeing a lot more of the world than most people do.”

Laurel sat there, not really reading the law book he had pressed on her for the umpteenth time. If they were talking about a Pit, was this that magic Pit thing that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore? The one that brought people back from the dead or whatever? The dead were dead, no matter if you came to a whole separate Earth and met them again.

That’s something, he’d said, with such a wistful tone to his voice. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and it burned in her gut, angry and jealous despite it all. If he wanted his Laurel back, why didn’t he go do it instead of trying to force her to be her? Ugh, it sounded confusing even in her own head.

But as she glowered across the room at him while he talked to the other Thea on that phone, she took him in. Old, thin, frail as he was, he could never make that kind of journey. Great, now she was feeling pity, too.

The more she thought about it, though, the more she realized that these Pits still being active was something. Something that could help her, too. If she wanted everyone’s eyes off her, why not give them something else to look at? Watch the birdie.

Laurel took out her phone and made liberal use of autocorrect and suggested search to find the information she needed about Kamchatka. Then she started searching for plane tickets.

Later, after Quentin was sleeping, Laurel went out that night to the cemetery with a shovel, hoping to God this wasn’t part of some officer’s beat. There was nothing much she could do once she’d dug up the casket besides shovel the dirt back on top and pack it down. Maybe people would assume the casket had been removed since she wasn’t supposed to be underground anymore. And now her doppelganger wasn’t either.

Getting her on a plane wasn’t too difficult, but God was she glad she’d borrowed some money from Quentin so she could hire some help to carry the thing up the mountain.

“I want to see the springs,” she told her guides. “The ones off the beaten path. You know what I mean, right?” If there were rumors about these Pits, they had to come from somewhere.

The two exchanged glances. “No one goes to those springs now.”

“And why not?” Damnit, had the idiots already destroyed this one?

“There are men. They guard the springs jealously.”

Oh. The other guys. Right. Tommy’s weird evil dad’s minions or whatever.

Laurel shrugged. “I think I can handle myself. You two wait here with my birdcage.” Leaving them to exchange perplexed glances, Laurel turned and continued her march through the mountain range.

It was funny. She could have wandered around here for days without finding it, except that, two hours into that, out of the shadows leapt a man in ninja gear. That kind of blew the whole thing, didn’t it?

Laurel knocked him right off the cliff with her scream, then twisted the arm of his buddy who tried to attack her from behind, getting possession of his sword and stabbing him in the gut with it. He dropped to his knees, cursing in some foreign tongue while Laurel examines her new sword.

“Not my style, usually, but I think I’m gonna keep this. Thanks.”

He didn’t reply. Probably because he was dead. Well, she’d at least made this easier for Speedy and Friends whenever they showed up.

She found the casket abandoned on the path by the time she got back. Huh. Maybe she should have paid those guys extra. Quentin wasn’t made of money, though. No matter how much he was going to owe her once this whole thing was done.

Few things sucked more than carrying a dead body up a mountain by yourself. One of the things that did suck more was carrying a dead body that looked exactly like you up a mountain by yourself. Laurel did her best to keep her eyes on the path as she put one step forward after the other. When she finally found the crevice in the rocks that led into the springs, she sighed in relief.

This was definitely the place. The ninjas had set up a small encampment to the side of the cave, and in the center bubbled a mysterious-looking water.

“This better work,” Laurel muttered to herself, then unceremoniously dumped the body into the waters with a splash that had her quickly backing away to avoid the droplets.

What would it be like, meeting the fabled Perfect Laurel? Was it rose-tinted glasses that had everyone on this Earth making her out to be a saint?

She paced the edge, waiting for some kind of sign she hadn’t been duped. The waters had gone totally still. What the hell was she going to have to do, fish her doppelganger out? She hadn’t even brought a net.

Then the waters started bubbling again like someone had flipped the switch for the hydro-jets. She slowed, laying a hand on the hilt of her new sword.

With no warning, the previously dead body made an impossible leap from the waters, landing in a crouch with her hair hanging in her face like a wet curtain.

“Shit,” Laurel breathed to herself.

Her doppelganger’s head snapped up, eyes wild and mouth snarling. Certainly nothing like a saint. She had a split second to recognize the pulling back of her lips for what it was before she was ducking to avoid a sonic scream. She retaliated, catching her disoriented doppelganger in the side and sending her rolling across the cave floor. She didn’t get up.

Laurel listened to make sure they hadn’t caused some kind of cave-in, but it sounded like the rock was holding. Then she crept over to see if she’d accidentally killed the other woman again. The rise and fall of her chest said she was still breathing. Good.

What the hell had the whole wild woman act been, though? Was it permanent? What was she going to do with her if it was?

It was weird watching herself. Laurel paced to the other side of the Pit and stood against the wall, waiting.

She’d give her doppelganger half an hour before she just placed the return plane ticket at her feet and took off.

---

Laurel, always of Earth 1 and formerly dead, shivered as she came to, rolling onto her side and curling in on herself with cold. She was soaked to the skin and exposed to the open air of whatever this place was. Her ears were also ringing. She shook her head, feeling her damp hair sticking to the side of her face.

“Ugh.”

“You said it.”

Laurel blinked and looked around. How had she heard her own voice come from another direction?

Leaning against a rocky wall was her. Or, it looked exactly like her. “What is this?” Was it some kind of illusion? A person that could mimic appearances. Though while this other her was dressed in sensible gear for what looked like hiking a mountain, she discovered she was in one of her nicer but rather thin dresses. God, it was freezing.

“What do you remember?” The other her asked.

“Talking to Oliver?” She’d been trying to encourage him, because she’d known he was probably beating himself up about her getting hurt, and then everything went kind of fuzzy after that. She thought she could remember him shouting for someone…

“Ugh, of course you do,” the other her said, rolling her eyes. “Okay, basically you’ve been dead for about two years—”

“Wait, what?”

“And I just brought you back. You’re welcome! Only took your own doppelganger from another Earth to get the job done.”

Her doppelganger. That’s what this was. So she was from Earth 2, she was pretty sure Team Flash had called it. Where they there now? It would explain why there was what had to be a Lazarus Pit to the right of her even though Nyssa had destroyed the one at Nanda Parbat.

“Why did you bring me back?” There was something about this other her’s attitude that suggested it wasn’t strictly out of the kindness of her heart. She reminded Laurel uncomfortably of some of her worst behaviors in the midst of her spiral.

Her doppelganger smiled, and it definitely wasn’t nice. “Smart question. See, I’ve been trying to live my life on this Earth for the last almost two years, but things keep getting in the way. Mostly the people from your life. So I figure if I give them you back, they won’t keep bothering me. We’re even, see?”

There was so much she wasn’t being told, and she wished that wasn’t an old feeling. “You’ve been pretending to be me?”

“Only for a little bit. Hey, at least you don’t have to come up with a story for the press as to how you’re still alive. Someone can fill you in on the cover. I’m heading out of here and do not follow me.” Her doppelganger hefted a duffle bag higher on her shoulder.

“How am I supposed to get home from wherever this is?” She gestured down again her bare feet and lack of possessions.

The other her grumbled impatiently. “Here, take some of this stuff.” She grabbed a pair of black boots and a League-standard tunic from a small pile near the other end of the cave they were in. Laurel hurried to put both on, not really caring to ask who they typically belonged to when it meant she could finally warm up a little.

A passport hit her in the face. Then a printed out boarding pass came flying, which she caught before it could smack her as well.

“Tag, you’re it,” her double said. “And I guess you can have your dad’s credit card back.”

Laurel straightened back up. “You stole his—”

“Of course I did. I’m getting his precious daughter back for him, so what’s he going to miss a few hundred bucks for? I only bought plane tickets and a guided tour, calm down.”

Laurel did not calm down, and instead marched over to her double and snatched the card from her lose grasp. “You might think the snarky act helps protect you from other people hurting you, but let me tell you from experience that it just hurts worse watching everyone walk away.”

Her double glared, leaning into her space. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I am you. Or I was.” Laurel shook her head. “Why have you even been staying on this Earth? Haven’t you got your own?”

“And nothing there to return to.” She could see in the mirror image of her own eyes a deep-set pain and sadness. Laurel wanted desperately to ask, but she had a feeling she wasn’t supposed to be seeing it at all.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Look, there’s no point to this. We can’t both be you, unless we want to pretend you’ve been lying about being an identical twin your whole life,” her doppelganger finally said. “I’m leaving. Wait five minutes, then head down the mountain path. There’s a little touristy station set up at the bottom, and they can direct you to the airport.”

“You’re really just going to lay low the rest of your life on some totally strange Earth?”

“About the only option I have left. Believe me, I’m looking forward to semi-retirement.” With that, her double turned and walked out of the cave, with not even a snarky goodbye to show for it. Laurel winced; she’d been pretending to be her? Did the others know, or did they all think she’d come back from the dead with that attitude?

She had no watch, so Laurel guessed at five minutes and headed down the path. Sure enough, the tourist trap at the bottom of the mountain did have information on transportation to the nearest airport. She also discovered she was in Eastern Russia.

Laurel prioritized getting to the airport over getting access to a phone. Her flight was pre-scheduled, after all. She bought some new clothes for herself before boarding so she didn’t have to come into the Star City airport looking like a terrorist. Thankfully, her father hadn’t cancelled his credit card. She’d pay him back, assuming she still had a job.

She couldn’t believe she was really back from the dead. Around nothing but strangers, it didn’t feel real. She also couldn’t sense anything like the bloodlust Thea had had, but she wasn’t really experiencing anything that might trigger her anger. But she’d need to figure out if there was a way to get more of that Lotus sooner rather than later.

Thea, her father, the team and Ollie, how were all of them? What had she missed in her years of being dead? Did they miss her or think about her at all? It would be selfish of her to wonder if Oliver ever thought about what she’d confessed to him, right? Even she’d known that was nothing but a memory now. Hopefully he and everyone else were just happy and safe, at least as much as they could be in their line of work.

She followed her fellow passengers out into the Star City airport, breathing a little easier now that she knew she was back in her home. No matter how much she or it changed, she’d always feel that way.

Laurel started looking for a help desk, but a hand landed on her upper arm before she could take more than two steps.

“Let’s go.”

Laurel froze. “Ollie?”

He looked about the same as she remembered. It had only been two years, after all. But his expression was guarded, even hostile as he looked down at her. She almost wanted to draw back from him.

“Quentin called. Whatever you’ve been setting up in Russia, you’re going to tell me and him.”

“I wasn’t setting anything up. I just came back to life.” It was occurring to her that he thought she was her own doppelganger, that this dislike and distrust wasn’t really for her. “I’m the real me, Oliver. I’m not the other Earth one.”

His eyes widened for a second, before he shut down again. “Come on.” He yanked on her arm to get her moving.

He thought she was lying. Well, they were going to see her father, apparently, so she could just convince them both at the same time. It figured her own doppelganger would leave her a mess to clean up.

---

Oliver didn’t trust himself to speak as he guided her out to the car. The fact that she wanted to try this game again, fooling him, was proof that he’d been right to doubt her attempt to turn over a new leaf. God, what was she planning to do to Laurel’s reputation? Her legacy?

“Ollie, please,” she said as he turned the key in the ignition. “I’m telling the truth. One minute, I was in the hospital with you and the next, I was waking up in some cave in Russia with an identical copy of myself telling me I’d been dead for two years.”

“A Lazarus Pit.”

“From what I could tell.”

He smirked to himself, but nothing was funny. “The only Lazarus Pit my Laurel knew about was destroyed, so why would she assume she’d been resurrected with one?”

“Because I made an educated guess when I woke up soaked to the bone next to a bubbling hot spring. Why can’t you ever just believe me?” She demanded, and it sounded so much like her — the real her — that it tore at his heart. Oliver kept his eyes on the road.

“Because you’ve done this before.”

“My doppelganger.” Her head dropped back against the seat rest. “Oliver, I don’t know what she must have done or said the past two years, but I promise that’s not me. I don’t want to think I could be that cruel to try and trick you like that twice.”

“Then where’s your other self?” He avoided describing it in a way that made it sound like he believed her. Even if everything — her tone, her inflections, the chunky knit sweater she was bundled in, just the way that she moved — was perfect in a way Black Siren had never managed.

This Laurel didn’t seem like she was mocking herself.

She sighed wearily. “I wish I had a better answer, but she took off. Said she wanted to get away from all of this, so she was tapping me back in.”

Oliver frowned. She’d only been impersonating Laurel in the public eye for a short while. Would she really give up the visibility and protection against Diaz that Quentin kept claiming she wanted so soon? Unless — and something cold seized his heart — this was the visible protection. A Laurel out there in the public eye and Diaz’s sights while she ran off for who-knew-where.

Could she really be? He looked in her eyes for the first time and couldn’t detect any hint of a lie. Yet somehow it still felt like he was falling into some sort of trap.

“Ollie, you’re going to miss the turn,” she said. “If that’s still where my dad lives.”

“Uh, right.” He made it sharp, then pulled up outside the apartment building. He started up to his unit and she fell right into step with him without a word.

Quentin answered the door after two knocks. He’d been expecting them since he’d been able to get the number of the return flight off his credit card purchase. Oliver had volunteered to collect her in case something more was going on than a simple joyride on Quentin’s money. Now he wasn’t sure what to say to the man.

“So, five-hundred bucks later, how do you feel?” Quentin asked her.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry,” she answered, stepping forward and wrapping him into a hug. Quentin’s eyes went wide and his arms hovered in the air. He looked to Oliver.

“She’s—” Oliver cleared his throat and tried again. “She’s claiming to be our Laurel.”

Quentin gaped. “How?”

“I can explain, I promise,” She said, then looked up. “But how are you?” One of her hands rested over Quentin’s chest.

“I- I’m not sure,” he answered.

Oliver started ushering them all inside on the off chance one of the neighbors stepped outside and heard this. They gathered in Quentin’s sitting room, Quentin on the couch, Oliver standing against the side wall and her pacing the space between couch and coffee table.

“Okay, so I guess there’s a Lazarus Pit or something like it in Eastern Russia. There’s this mountain range called Kamchatka.”

“I was talking to your sister on the phone about that,” Quentin said to him. “She — Earth 2, I mean — was in the room with me.”

“I didn’t see Thea or anyone else, but I think the League might have been set up there at some point,” she continued. “Someone’s things were left behind.”

“Malcolm’s people,” Oliver said, and watched her nod. “He’s dead, by the way.”

Siren already knew that, but this Laurel’s shock looked genuine. “How did it happen?”

“He took Thea’s place on a landmine.”

Her eyebrows raised even higher. “Contradictory to the end, then. Where’s Thea now?”

“On a mission with Nyssa and Roy.” He wondered if she thought she’d have better luck convincing his sister. Oliver wasn’t so sure, because at the moment he badly wanted to be convinced even despite the warning voices in his head urging him to hold back.

“So your doppelganger brought you back with this Pit?” Quentin asked. “I mean, why? And why the hell didn’t we think of that first?”

“The bloodlust, for one thing.” Assuming she was telling the truth, this Laurel would need the Lotus cure the same as Thea had two years ago. Oliver crossed his arms. “Have you felt any symptoms?”

“Not so far. But it’s only been a couple days since I came back.” She looked from one of them to the other. “Do I have a grave we could check so you both feel more sure about this? I can tell you I woke up in my navy blue evening dress. It was a little cold for Russia.”

“I want to believe you, honey, of course I do,” Quentin said. “You have no idea what I’d give to have you back with us.”

“Then just give me some trust,” she said, reaching for his hands. “I’m your daughter. I almost went to work at a corporate law firm in San Francisco until you called me out because you knew that wasn’t who I was. I used to race Sara up the tree in our yard, and I always let her win after the first time when I made her cry and you told me it was my job to take care of her. We went out to dinner before everything at the prison happened, and you told me you were proud of what I was doing as the Black Canary, and I finally felt like I had made it somehow! Like I’d done right by you,” She said, her voice wavering.

Quentin stood, one of his hands cupping her cheek. “It’s really you. It has to be. Oh, my baby girl.” He crushed her to him, drawing in a ragged breath as she held on just as tight. “I don’t know why she did it, but I’m just so glad it’s really you.”

Oliver had to look away. It was too hard to watch. If this was some trick, it would only hurt all the worse once it was revealed. If this was real, then he’d been nothing but cold to her since she’d returned. Why did he always have to screw up when it came to her? He knew what he felt deep in his heart, but every time it came for him to act, he just—

“Ollie.” She had come up to him at some point, and he hadn’t realized he was that far into his own head. “I know I can’t ask you to trust me. But you know me better than anyone.”

He stared at her, willing himself to find some small thing out of place. If he didn’t see it now and he let himself believe, he would be lost. He knew that much about himself. And if it was all a lie, he didn’t think he could find his way back out again this time.

“What did you tell me in the hospital?” He finally asked, his voice sounding gruff to his ears.

“That you shouldn’t try to take on everything alone,” she said. “Even if you feel you have to to protect everyone.”

She was right that those had been some of her last words, and yet he couldn’t be certain that they were the only two who knew that; he himself had told Felicity, and as much as he wanted to believe she wouldn’t have spread it, he didn’t have that guarantee.

“And the other thing?”

She hesitated, glancing back at Quentin and licking her lips. “I told you that you were the love of my life and always would be.”

He heard Quentin make some startled sound, but he was too blurry in Oliver’s vision to make out any expression. He blinked a couple times, trying to clear it so that he could see her — Laurel — and he stepped forward, cupping her face with both hands, and kissed her forehead.

Oliver wrapped her in a hug after, as it sunk in that he didn’t have to leave this time. She was here in the real world with them. Laurel was alive, so much more than a dream.

She rested her hands at his back, seeming unsure, and he felt a fresh wave of guilt over how he had practically shunned her since finding her at the airport. He held her just a little bit tighter for a moment before finally letting her go, stepping back and running both hands over his face in an excuse to wipe at his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand why you needed to check.” Her eyes stayed more on the floor than on her father as she turned to him and asked, “Could I use your guest room for a little? The time difference is kind of catching up to me.”

“Of course, honey. I, uh, had it set up for your doppelganger, but she took her things with her so it’s open.” The father and daughter headed back down the hall while Oliver walked over and sank onto the couch with unsteady legs.

Laurel was back. Truly. It was nearly overwhelming in its relief and yet the enormity of that fact was also hitting him. How did he explain this to Thea and the others hunting to find and destroy the Pits? How did he explain this to his team, whose experiences with the Laurel they’d known ranged from bad to worse? To his son, who was aware of the hero Laurel had been — and still was, now — but who had been warned to keep away from the woman who looked like her?

Quentin returned, taking his own seat in the armchair across. “I’m dreaming, right?”

“Feels like one,” Oliver agreed, knowing he had the experience to support that feeling. But there had been no strange glitches, and he was aware of all his memories, good and bad. This was all real.

“You’d think I’d get used to this. My daughters coming back, the whole world changing around us.”

Oliver nodded.

“Laurel and you.”

He froze and looked up, meeting Quentin’s gaze. “I… needed to know it was her.”

“Course you did. But I need to know things, too. Like just what your intentions are. I mean, you’re practically engaged, Oliver.”

He winced. “In a manner of speaking.” The thought caused his heart to sink deep down into his stomach or somewhere near it. A feeling he’d been having lately when his thoughts turned to Felicity and their tentative agreement.

Tentative because, and perhaps predictably, he’d started reconsidering at perhaps the worst possible moment: after their impromptu wedding alongside Barry and Iris. He had called the speedster up after the West-Allens had taken their honeymoon, just to catch up.

“We’re mostly just working on thank you cards now. Apparently super-fast writing also leads to super-fast hand cramps,” Barry had told him.

“Well, feel free to skip ours. Actually, what did we get you? Felicity never said.”

“Oh. It was, uh, an espresso machine.”

There was something off in the way Barry had said it, the pause and then the flat tone at the end. “Is it not working?”

“No, it does. I mean, I think so. I don’t actually drink much coffee since the caffeine doesn’t affect me,” Barry had admitted with an awkward laugh.

“Oh.” Oliver had felt his cheeks redden. He’d known that, thinking back on it. Shouldn’t Felicity have known that? He should have checked with her before they bought something, but she tended to take those things upon herself since she said teaching him Amazon was beyond her pay grade. “I guess Iris is making use of it?”

“A little. It wasn’t, uh, it wasn’t on the registry.” He’d been able to visualize the uncomfortable shuffling Barry must have been doing on the other end as he spoke. “She kind of had her fill of making coffee at Jitters, you know?”

“Right.” Oliver had closed his eyes, very tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Could you send me the registry list? I can—”

“No, don’t buy something else. It’s fine. I mean, we’re not upset or anything.”

“About the gift,” Oliver had finished for him. “But you’re upset about something else.” Barry wouldn’t have even gone into any detail on the gift like this if something hadn’t been bothering him.

“Upset’s a strong word, Ollie. It’s just, you know, after the wedding was crashed and we lost Professor Stein and everything else, it kind of didn’t feel like our day anymore. And then we figured out a way to get some of that back and- and—”

“And we made it about us,” Oliver had realized with a wave of shame. What had ever possessed him to think that would have been a good idea? Yes, Felicity had asked, but he had been the one to start using the wedding backdrop as a way to hint he thought they should move things forward, and in doing so had upstaged Barry and Iris at their own celebration.

It had been the Lance family dinner all over again, where he’d subordinated Laurel’s feelings or those of Sara’s parents to a relationship he and she had wanted to try and force into working. Why was he always so selfish?

“Barry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what can make that up to you—”

“Look, we can just drop it, okay? What’s done is done.” Barry had sounded desperate to move on. “I just hope things work out for both of us, you know? We both got our dream come true.”

Oliver had hesitated.

“Right?”

“Yeah. Right,” he’d managed uncomfortably. Then he’d made some excuse or other and hung up the phone. He’d only felt it would have been an even lower blow to Barry to admit that his wedding hadn’t been interrupted by Oliver’s dream — far from it.

His dream was now sleeping just twenty feet down the hall.

Oliver dropped his head into his hands, feeling it starting to throb in his temples. He knew he loved Laurel and always would, had stopped denying that to himself over a year ago. But he was in a relationship — even a relatively chaste one since his misgivings about their not-quite wedding — with Felicity.

He’d been using William as an excuse, which wasn’t fair, but what he now couldn’t determine was, was it fair to William to have introduced Felicity into his life as a sort of surrogate only to end things with her? Or was his growing unhappiness in that relationship only going to teach his son a warped version of love and family?

They’d had no marriage certificate when they’d jumped in on Barry and Iris’ ceremony. They still didn’t. They weren’t really married. And he didn’t really want to ever be now. But was it right for him to start something with Felicity because he had been lonely and heartbroken, only to end it because the reason for his loneliness and heartbreak no longer existed?

“I know how I feel, I just don’t know what to do,” he admitted finally. Oliver jumped a little when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Well, the first thing you gotta do is be honest with yourself and with the people in your life about how you’re feeling.”

“How do I do that without hurting someone?”

“Sometimes you can’t,” Quentin told him. “Sometimes you just can’t control how people are gonna feel, Oliver. But you have to let them feel it in their own way.”

He was right. He was right, and Oliver knew it. He also knew that avoiding the truth to avoid pain was one of his greatest failings. But by God, he had to get past this. Not for his sake, but for the people in his life.

“I should inform the team so they can start getting used to the idea,” Oliver decided. “And I need to talk to Felicity.”

She deserved an explanation, uncomfortable as it might make him to give it. He should have been honest with her about his remaining feelings for Laurel whether she was dead or alive, that it would always be a part of him. He would be honest with her now.

Oliver left the apartment, turning and heading down the block. But as he looked back over his shoulder at the building, he frowned.

The window of the guest bedroom was open.

He turned back around, walking and then breaking out into a jog. By the time he reached the hallway to Quentin’s floor, he was flat-out running.

Oliver rapped on the doorframe, waiting with impatience for it to open. Quentin blinked in surprise when he did so. “What—”

“I need to check something.” He walked straight back down the hall and knocked on the guest bedroom door. “Laurel?”

“You said you already checked it was her, and she’s sleeping,” Quentin argued.

“I’m not checking that it’s her, I’m checking—” The door was unlocked and almost bounced off the wall when he threw it open.

Oliver’s heart froze.

“She- she’s gone!” Quentin exclaimed behind him. He brushed past Oliver, going to the window and sticking his head out. “Laurel!”

It did no good, as she hadn’t been anywhere outside when he’d noticed the open window. Why had she gone? Where had she gone? Whatever the reason or location, he had to find out, and fast.

He couldn’t lose her again. Not this time.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #black canary #black siren #green arrow #my writing

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