Chapter Text
The archer sat at the top of the building, waiting. His orders were clear-his target should be here and he was to take the man out. Green Arrow had been a thorn in his boss' side for too long. And what type of cheesy name was Green Arrow, anyway? That was something that gave you permission to turn. Not a name that would strike fear into the hearts of criminals.
Suddenly, the rag tag team of leather-clad vigilantes burst onto the scene. Some of Darhk's ghosts were keeping them busy. The archer drew back his bow and watched the green-clad figure, waiting for the perfect shot.
He hesitated as the blonde darted into view, weaving and throwing punch after punch. There was something achingly familiar about the way she moved, and about the lines of the body clad in black leather. He shoved aside that sense of deja vous, doing his best to ignore the discomfort that bubbled under the surface. There was no reason that he would know this woman. If he'd had a life before HIVE, he didn't remember it. Nor did he care to. All that mattered now was the mission.
His attention returned to his target, as the Green Arrow seemed to move into just the right spot for his arrow. He pulled his bow string back, ready to let it fly. His eyes caught sight of the blonde yet again. One of the ghosts looked poised to overtake her.
The dark archer let loose his arrow. He watched as it buried itself into the ghost. The blonde looked up and he was almost certain that she could see him. He swore softly and then turned and raced across the rooftop. He fired off a zipline arrow as he heard a grappling hook thud against the edge of the building.
He slid onto the next building and turned to look behind himself for just a moment as the blonde made it up to the rooftop that he had just left. She was beautiful, he noted, again dismissing the thought as soon as it appeared. But not before he murmured "pretty bird." He remembered that they'd called her Black Canary. It suited her, somehow.
He tossed a smoke bomb in her direction and then tore his eyes away, turning to make his getaway. She wouldn't catch him tonight. He'd live to try to carry out his mission another day.