Off Target

[Cissie King-Jones]

Everyone at Gotham U knew that Delta Sigma Alpha threw the best parties. The volatile mix of men in their young 20s with trust funds as big as their egos practically guaranteed it. Of course not just anyone could make it in to these parties if you weren't a member... unless you were female, that was. Wearing a bit of revealing clothing in that case was as good as a golden ticket and ΔΣA's annual costume party was the perfect opportunity to get your hands on free alcohol and good times if you had the right attitude.

True it had taken Cissie a bit of coaxing from her friends and really when you got down to it the short skirt and cropped top that made up the cheerleader outfit she'd decided on wasn't that revealing when you compared it to the other girls at the party. It was just enough to cause her mother to give her a disapproving stare as she had left and that was worth it alone.

The party itself was far from winding down but some students had begun trickling away, back to their dorms or homes to sleep off the impending hangovers. And that was where Cissie found herself: On the front lawn trying to be talked in to staying by the cohorts that had dragged her there in the first place while she tried to explain that you really could only test the wraith of Bonnie King so much before you paid the price.

Eventually she had won out, managed to turn down an offer for a ride home from a cute guy with questionable sobriety, and decided that a good long walk would do her good. It wasn't like she had decided on a pair of "hooker heals" - nice thing about the cheerleader getup was the sneaks.

However... this was Gotham and having a nice "quiet" walk home was really just a roll of the dice that was stacked completely out of your favor. So really Cissie shouldn't have been surprised when she heard a scuffle taking place down an alleyway. She shouldn't have been shocked or outraged at the fact that some helpless dumbass was getting beat up by some creep with a knife and a healthy dose of bloodlust. And she really shouldn't have listened to the words her mother had drilled into her head a million times a day in that she should be Out There Doing Something with all the classes that were forced upon her. But sometimes these things do happen.

So, weaponless and a little buzzed Cissie stepped into the alleyway, going over the years of martial arts training her mother had forced upon her, calculating risks and damning them all before she put both hands on her hips and took a deep breath.

"Hey, Sleezewad. Why don't you pick on someone who can actually fight back?"

Of all reactions she had expected... the guy laughing hadn't been it. Of course, you couldn't really blame him when you considered the fact that he was mean, tattooed, armed, and probably hopped on up something more than alcohol and he was facing...well... a cheerleader.

[Green Arrow]

No matter how hard he tried to think of an excuse, Ollie just didn't have a good reason for the Green Arrow to be in this part of down at this time of night. He didn't have an excuse for Oliver Queen being here either, though there was a real danger that he might need one: admitting to Dinah that he was there to check out the skant outfits at the Sigma Alpha costume party wasn't something he expected to be able to do and live.

It wasn't even that sordid a thing: not really, anyway. It wasn't like he was trawling for half-naked college students - those days were behind him. It was curiosity, mostly, and maybe a little bit of nostalgia. You could take the man out of ΔΣA, but you could never take the ΔΣA out of the man.

The party was still well under way, but Oliver had seen what he'd come to see. He'd also received a frustratingly aloof earful from Alfred, who apparently had nothing better to do than sit in the Batcave and spy on where Oliver was, what he was up to, and then be all British about it. I'm not entirely sure that is an appropriate use of your time, Mister Queen, he had said. Oliver scowled. He'd probably find Alfred much less infuriating if he'd just out and say Stop being a pervert, Oliver, rather than being so damned wordy and British about it.

"Hey, Sleezewad."

That was a little harsh, but at least it was direct and got the point -

Wait, what?

Oliver frowned beneath his hood, as the realisation dawned on him that he'd heard the words with his ears, rather than imagining them. In hindsight, that made more sense than the concept of his brain transforming Alfred's voice into that of a young American woman. He regretted that thought the instant it finished, and fought with all his might to relegate the mental images that followed to the deep, dark recesses of his brain.

With silent speed, Green Arrow moved to the edge of the rooftop, peering towards the alley where the sound had originated. It was across the street, and dimly lit, but from what he could make out by squinting, someone had just been handed a reprieve from a gut-kicking from what was probably one of Bertinelli's goons by an uncharacteristically heroic cheerleader. That threatened to stir up a few student memories that were probably best left unrevealed - especially to Dinah - but the bubble of nostalgia was burst by the sight of a ridiculously oversized knife being drawn from within the thug's jacket.

Instincts fired, and in one fluid motion an arrow was drawn from Oliver's quiver and nocked, keen eyes sighting down she shaft at the glinting metal blade. There was a moment's pause as Oliver drew in a careful breath -

Realisation dawned, and a small smile crept onto Oliver's face. "Save the cheerleader. Ha."

And with that laugh, Green Arrow fired.

[Cissie King-Jones]

She had to admit that the knife gave her pause - though she did have to admit her trouble in holding back the thoughts about why someone needed a knife that big. Intimidation seemed likely but there was always that more childish reason...

A smirk came to her lips and she was just about to call the guy out on it when the knife was suddenly knocked out of his hand. Well, not knocked so much as shot.

Never pause at an opening. Rather than stand about gawking like the thug was doing, Cissie ran forward. Admittedly she loved the look on the guys face as he went from confusion about what happened to his knife, to confusion about the girl rushing towards him... shame the look vanished as soon as the roundhouse kick connected with the side of his face.

[Green Arrow]

So, that was unexpected.

When most people had an arrow whistle past their ears and smash into a guy's hand with laser accuracy, they freaked out a little bit and dove for cover, maybe screamed a little in surprise. They were generally shaken, but that usually just prepared them to be all the more swoony when Green Arrow swept in to rescue them.

On the one hand, a tiny part of Oliver was mildly disappointed at the apparent lack of swooning potential. The rest of him was geeking out over the awesomeness of watching a cheerleader going Jean Claude Van Damme on the side of some guy's face.

There wasn't time to loiter and appreciate the show, though. Slinging his bow quickly across his shoulder, Green Arrow allowed himself a few short back-steps before charging forward, hurling himself from the rooftop and towards the waiting street-lamp. Either fluke or skill - take your pick - wrapped his hands around the main column, body spinning a few quick spirals to shed momentum while he slid swiftly towards the ground.

The bow was drawn again, another arrow readied, and the road disappeared in a few quick, confident strides. "Hey," he called out, a brief moment of uncharacteristic common sense preventing him from catching the cheerleader unawares and possibly earning a roundhouse to the face of his own.

"Take a step back there, Spankies," he instructed, adding tension to the bow as he settled his aim on the poor defenceless thug once again. "I got this."

[Cissie King-Jones]

Of all masked vigilantes to step in it had to be him. Not that Cissie had ever really fully bought into her Mother's consistent propaganda concerning Green Arrow, but you didn't get bludgeoned day in and day out and not have at least part of it stick.

It's not that her mother hated Green Arrow, no, far from it. One might even say she was one of his biggest fans. Except for one small little detail... it wasn't this Green Arrow. This one... well...

As the thug slowly began to pick himself up off the ground she delivered another swift kick in the ribs and sent him sprawling once more.

"Nope. I got here first. Means this one's all mine. Once I handle this creep I'll get that other guy over to the Hospital. See? Figured it all out."

A small beeping noise caught her attention as the thug rolled over, a blinking light in his hand proving to be the source of the sudden sound.

"Or... maybe not."

[Green Arrow]

Green Arrow's eyes narrowed in slow motion; his gaze shifted from the cheerleader to the downed criminal, then back to her once again. There was a heavy silence; the bowstring snapped; an arrow hurtled across the alley into the mobster's palm, a burst of lightning from the blunted arrowhead turning the panic button into a sparking pile of components, and the thug into a muscle-quivering heap of scum.

A hand rose to Oliver's ear, triggering his earpiece. "Al-" Common sense kicked in mid-word. "- Alpha One, this is, uh, Delta Niner." Brain in panic mode, his mouth grabbed for anything - everything - to reinforce his fumbled deception. "I have a Juliet-Bravo in need of an urgent GT-Foxtrot-Oscar at twenty-fourth and ninth. This is an, uh, Code Blue. Ten-Four. Over?"

A pregnant pause thundered through the radio. "I'm terribly sorry, Mister Queen," Alfred said at last. "I'm afraid I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about."

Oliver let out a low growl, retreating a few paces and dropping his voice to a half-whisper. "Some idiot kid in a slutty cheerleader costume just let one of Bertinelli's men trigger a panic button. I've got about three minutes before a van full of guys with guns show up, and there's no way I'm going to be able to outrun them on foot with a hapless pleb in tow. I could really use a little back-up right now: preferably someone with, you know -" He shot a glare over his shoulder. "- a car."

"Ah." Once again, Alfred demonstrated his uncanny ability to completely underreact and understate everything. "Ten-four indeed, Mister Queen. I will see what I can arrange."

Oliver grunted, and sighed. "Just great."

He spun quickly, his gaze rounding on his newest teenage burden. "You." There was an accusing finger pointed along with it. As if babysitting duty with Red Robin wasn't bad enough.

"Are you going to manage to shut up and do as your told, or am I going to have to taser-arrow you as well, like Mr Drooly over here?" His eyes narrowed again. "Because trust me, that can be arranged."

[Cissie King-Jones]

Her eyes narrowed and the hinting a of a glare were directed at the masked man before she cast a glance back at the downed goon. She frowned slightly as she noticed the jerk's would-be-victim had conveniently wandered off. Probably was smart enough to get out while the getting was good.

This was going to make one hell of a story if she ever decided to tell it. Not that she would have much of an option, Cissie got the feeling that somehow the second her foot entered the door at home her mother would just know. The least she could do was prove she was up for the task.

"I'm not an idiot." So says the girl who just decided randomly to get involved in a bit of heroics and piss off God-Knows-What-Criminal-Organization.

"And I'd really rather not be shot. Something about training with a bow since I could hold one makes that just degrading." Why the hell did she just say that?? Her mother's bragging coming out of her, complete with the venom matched for this particular vigilante. Cissie wasn't sure if she was more disgusted at herself or the woman who had basically programmed her for this moment.

"Lead on, then. But really you'll have to let me know what your plan for that guy is." She nodded back to the unconscious thug who had started it all. "So how about it, Hero what now?"

[Green Arrow]

Trained in archery. Of course she was. How could the universe pass up the opportunity to burden him with such a perfectly crafted annoyance?

"That arrow packs the electric equivalent of a low-dose tranquiliser. Usually it'll take a guy like him down for ten, maybe fifteen minutes: not long enough to put him in danger, but usually enough for the police to arrive." He shrugged. "If we're lucky, the buddies he summoned will waste time checking on him, and that'll add to our lead."

They'd lingered too long, and Green Arrow was determined not to let it continue any longer; but to make a break for it without a plan was about as stupid as staying put. He had half a mind to retrace the cheerleader's steps back to the campus, and hope to loose any pursuit amidst the other costumes, but between them and there was far too much Bertinelli turf: Green Arrow couldn't exactly escort her back and remain inconspicuous at the same time, and he sure as hell wasn't going to abandon her to hoof it back alone.

"There's a seedy nightclub a few streets over," he decided aloud; it took a moment to get his bearings before he led them back out onto the street. "A classy outfit like yours should fit right in."

[Cissie King-Jones]

If Cissie was perfectly honest she would have said that his plan sucked. If 'seedy night club' was the best that Green Arrow could come up with for an escape plan then maybe, just maybe her mother was actually right.

And that's exactly why she would go along with it - just for the off chance that it was actually a brilliant plan disguised in pure stupidity.

"It's just about a subtle as yours. Just try to not sign any autographs on the way in, okidokie?" The continued bitterness in her tone was unnerving. Sadly, Cissie didn't have the luxury to sit and wonder about it at that moment.

[Green Arrow]

"Okidokie," Oliver echoed back in muttered form.

He was rapidly begining to reconsider his don't let her get killed position. Any moral objections to the idea were swiftly disolving, but for now Oliver's desire to avoid a long and condescending lecture from Bruce was her life preserver.

A set of car headlights loomed in the distance; Oliver grabbed Cissie, and shoved her into the shadowed doorway of a closed shop-front. It took a moment before he realised the need to adjust his hand positioning. An innocuous family saloon cruised past. Oliver's bunched muscles relaxed.

"At what point did walking home alone through this neighbourhood strike you as a good idea?" he grumbled. "Was it before or after the drugs and alcohol?"

[Cissie King-Jones]

"Let's see..." The words came out in a hushed hiss. "It's the closest distance between the college and my house and I am a firm believer in the fact a person should not be terrified of walking home in their own damn hometown. You heroes really need to step up our game. Seems to be more and more of you ever day and yet... huh... here we are: Still getting lectured about the bad sides of town."

She chose to ignore his quip about what was in her system. Cissie was, as far as her friends were concerned, a stick-in-the-mud. Heck, even that night she'd limited herself to two beers and a tequila shot...and that was really pushing it. The shot had only happened after a lot of guilt tripping about how she never had enough fun.

Cissie glanced back out at the street before her gaze leveled on Green Arrow. "So, you going to tell me just how much trouble I've stirred up so I can actually take part in this whole thing or you going to just lead me around like a rag doll?"

[Green Arrow]

Yeah. Stunning her was starting to seem like a really attractive idea right now.

More heroes every day was one thing. More resources dedicated to anti-vigilante task forces, more DEO assets shunted to Gotham City, and a weird sort of unity starting to seep through the gangs was another. Once again, the core difference between Batman and Green Arrow reared it's head: in response to Batman's war on crime, the criminals of Gotham were upping their game.

She's annoying, Oliver mused. But at least there's one thing we can agree on: we aren't helping as much as everyone things - hopes - we should.

Oliver decided to cut the kid a few millimetres of slack; not enough to be nice to her or anything, but maybe enough to answer her question without being overtly sarcastic.

"Something has the Bertinelli's really riled up," he explained. "Other gangs too, but them especially. Rumour has it that they're being hit by vigilantes, but it's not me, or Bats, or anyone else we know. One of your new heroes," he added, offhand.

"Franco has his boys kitted out with panic buttons. One gets rumbled by a vigilante, and he triggers an SOS; and Bertinelli rolls in the cavalry. They've been shipping in heavy ordnance for the task: assault weapons; grenades; all the good stuff." His expression twitched uncomfortably. "I'm not equipped for that sort of thing. I don't have an arsenal."

He shook himself out of whatever it was he was on the brink of slipping into. Now wasn't time for that. Later was better, and would probably involve the requisite consumption of soothing alcohol that would make him feel better. "And you aren't taking part in anything. We go to the nightclub; we hole up; rescue comes; we all go home."

[Cissie King-Jones]

Well, at least he was practical. While she wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of cowering in a hole, Cissie also had to admit that no amount of training was going to help her against anyone packing the sort of heat that Green Arrow was talking about. Not unless she herself was armed. She had a feeling that either Green Arrow was being overly modest or just didn't know his reputation. If the rumors she grew up with were true, anyone carrying that title should be more than able to hold their own with just a bow and various trick arrows against some numbskulls with a few cheap assault rifles.

Not that she would say anything encouraging of the sort. He seemed rather determined to stow her away until help came and since the cheerleader outfit wasn't exactly going to do much in the way of stopping shrapnel or bullets, she would have to agree... for now.

"I don't like it. But it doesn't look like we have much of an option. Let's just hope this place doesn't have any of Bertinell's lookouts waiting for, well..." She waved a hand dismissively in his direction.

"Let's get moving."

[Green Arrow]

Normally, Ollie was filled with an overwhelming sense of malease when things suddenly became too easy, but right now he was inclined to just suck it up and be grateful.

Right, he mused, peering out from their concealed doorway. Lets get moving.

Green Arrow's gaze swept the street. No cars. No movement. Darkness in every window. No obvious danger; but that didn't mean safe. It just meant that maybe the danger was good at hiding. He grimaced; while mobsters weren't renowned for their grasp of combat tactics, Oliver's military training was screaming at him to avoid walking into such an obvious potential ambush.

He glanced at the cheerleader. Trained with a bow since childhood, huh?

His hand reached for his belt, tugging one of the pistol-sized crossbows free of it's holster. He considered his wrists for a moment, and after a slight pause, slackened the straps that affixed a small array of odd-looking crossbow bolts to his left bracer. "Crossbow. Bolts. They work the same as the arrows I used on Captain Droolpants earlier. You'll only get a few shots, so be conservative and don't be fancy: shoot centre mass, and only when you have to."

Curiosity twitched on his brow. Lets see if you bite as good as you bark.

[Cissie King-Jones]

A miniature crossbow...Where did these costumed heroes get these awesome toys?? Cissie tried to suppress the smile as he handed it to her but she couldn't really contain it completely. She wasn't as good with a crossbow as a regular bow, but her mother hadn't exactly skimped on her training either.

After securing the straps on her wrist as best she could, Cissie tested out the weight and feel of the crossbow. A little strange in balance but nothing that couldn't be learned. Yes, it would do nicely. "Don't go wasting ammo on deadbeats, save it for the real threats - got it."

A small laugh finally left her, just a bit at how absurd things had gotten so quickly. "Can't wait to see the bouncer's face when we get to this club of yours..."

[Green Arrow]

"We'll be fine."

Admittedly, the prospect of the bouncer gave Green Arrow pause. From what he remembered, the guy - John something - was big, burly, and ex-military. Not someone you wanted to cross, tangle with, or - as memory served - try to bluff against in poker. Fortunately, Oliver's plan didn't involve crossing paths with the bouncer at all: but explaining that required revealing slightly more information than was perhaps wise.

Lucky for Cissie, wisdom wasn't one of Oliver's strong suits.

"We won't be using the front door," he assured. "There's a side entrance. I -" He hesitated. "I know the manager. He'll let us in."

His brain sought out a distraction quickly. He gestured to the crossbow, a questioning glance cast in the cheerleader's direction. "Ready?"

[Cissie King-Jones]

Of course he knows the manager. Cissie would have to remember to make some sort of reference to his little sleazy comment from earlier. That was... If she had a chance to... If they made it there. Not that she was feeling particularly incapable or pessimistic but only and idiot would completely ignore the fact this entire thing could go real sour real fast.

"Ready as I'm going to be." She offered a small smile along with a shrug of her shoulder before they headed back out to the street.

She wondered for a moment why Green Arrow hadn't suggested sticking to rooftops and fire escapes to reach their location. The question was answered as she caught a glimpse of her outfit... Why couldn't she have dressed up like a Bat... Girl... Or something.

Despite her wandering mind, Cissie was on complete alert, her eyes scanning the way ahead and to the sides for any unusual movement. As they passed a few blocks she almost began to think they'd make it without incident... And that was when the van came peeling around the corner and came to a sudden skidding stop on the sidewalk directly in their path.

[Green Arrow]

Oliver didn't realise he knew quite so many swear words, but the tirade of them stampeding through his mind proved him wrong.

Reflexes fired as the side doors clunked open; he shoved Cissie towards cover behind a parked sedan with his shoulder, before snatching a pair of arrows from his quiver and snapping off two shots in quick succession. The instant the blunted cylinder mounted onto the first arrow struck the metallic hull of the van, a blinding flash erupted on a wave of thunderous noise; Green Arrow barely remembered to look away in time, and made a mental note to give a pay rise to the Applied Sciences employee who'd invented the noise-cancelling ear buds he wore. An instant later, the second arrow spewed forth a cloud of thick smoke, which spiralled outwards into a fog that obscured most of the street.

Not wasting any time, he ducked into the same cover he'd encouraged the cheerleader towards, placing a hand firmly on her shoulder to secure her attention. Though effectively the same as a flashbang grenade in principle, Oliver's arrows were smaller and less potent by design; with any luck, the car she'd hid behind would have shielded her from the worst of the flash. She'd be able to see better than the thugs who'd been hit square in the face by it, at any rate.

There wasn't any point using words; her ears would be ringing too much for her to hear him. He'd still be able to hear her, of course, so no doubt he was in for one hell of a one-sided tirade of shouted insults. Instead, he settled on non-verbal communication and, hoping that the cheerleader knew at least the basics of scuba diving hand signals, gestured to ask if she was okay.

[Cissie King-Jones]

She wanted to hit him. Maybe not a full on punch - he looked too well armored for it to do any good other than probably hurting her hand. But ooooh God did she want to do SOMETHING awful. Of course, she would have to wait until her ears didn't feel like they might be bleeding, and for the headache that was bound to come from such a loud noise to settle, for her vision to stop having little spots at the edges, oh yeah and for the mob goons to kindly leave them alone. Fat chance on that last one.

Begrudgingly she nodded and tapped her ear before shaking her head. Cissie figured he was well aware of what her ailment was but there was never a problem with confirmation.

She double checked the readiness of the small crossbow in her hands, making sure nothing had gotten too jostled when she had been shoved behind the car. Good to go she gestured for him to lead on. No point in trying to outshine just yet - not when he could play such a nice distraction at first.

[Green Arrow]

It was times like this when a longbow became a little unwieldy; but such were the sacrifices that costumed vigilantes had to make in order to uphold their motif. Technically, it was also times like this that Green Arrow carried his crossbow for, but that couldn't be helped right now. It was either that, or drag an unarmed and half-dressed cheerleader through a fire-fight, and that was a very long way from his idea of fun.

A taser arrow sprung from the tensed bowstring, and caught a gunman centre mass. One of his compatriots, clearly shaken but not entirely thrown off-balance by the flash, tried to rattle off a volley of return fire. Craters peppered the side of the car they'd hidden behind; far enough away to avoid any harm, but a little too close to comfort.

Arrow's eyes swept his surroundings, and spotted a vintage Volkswagen Type 2 parked on the far side of the street: useless and impractical for just about everything except being used as a lump of metal to block incoming bullets. His mouth opened, about to speak, but a glance at the cheerleader made him cut himself off. His mind fumbled for a way to dumb down his instructions.

"Orange hippy van," he grunted. "Straight ahead. I'll cover you. Go!"

A hand snatched for his quiver, another arrow rapidly aimed and fired. The projectile sailed through the air and slammed against the hood of the mobster van with a dull thud. For an instant nothing happened - a stray shot to the untrained eye - but a second later a bright white flash heralded the ignition of the magnesium fuse. Another second passed, and what had once been a club-shaped arrowhead exploded into a plume of hissing sparks and fire, as thermite tore through the casing and seared it's way through the van's engine block.