Chapter 1Chapter TextJust a quick note before I begin, I changed a few details to fit the narrative I want to tell in this particular story. So, if you see anything that doesn't line up with canon, that's why. Granted, for ninety percent of you, that much should be obvious because this is fan fiction.
Stranger from the Other Side:
A violent storm kicked up high over the South China Sea. Huge gusts of winds, angry sounding thunder claps, dangerous blasts of lightning, and just pure darkness engulfed the area. The waves whipped across the water, making any journey extremely treacherous.
Those who sailed for a living weathered numerous storms in the past. They knew the storm which raged tonight was no ordinary storm. It was far more violent, far more unforgiving, and far more dangerous. The storm built for the better part of the last couple of days and reached a fever pitch this particular evening.
A cyclone appeared over an uncharted island off of the South China Sea. No one had been around for miles on this island. The mist rose above the island thus blocking the view of the island for anyone who just happened to have the misfortune of being on said island.
The cyclone cloud launched a figure like a bottle unleashing a cork. The figure from the sky flew down to the ground and impacted the dirt, just coming short of hitting a very dangerous area of the island. The mist blocked what dropped from the sky from view, at least for the first couple of minutes after it dropped.
The stranger pulled himself to a standing position. Legs almost came out from underneath him like they were made of jelly. He reached onto the side of the tree and stopped, assessed his surroundings. A normally unruly hair of dark hair got knocked around. Green eyes widened into the distance and managed to just barely make out the surroundings through the other side of the mists.
He dressed in tattered clothes, ripped apart from landing on the ground. A faint, but still visible tattoo of a circle encased in a triangle with a pair of jagged lines being drawn down the circle stood prominently on his chest. The figure stood up, tall, if not a bit shaky. He was a well-built young man, despite the state of disorientation.
His name came to him after he managed to regain his composure. Harry Potter stood firmly on the ground on the mysterious island. The throbbing in his skull finally started to cease.
Five years Harry obsessed over that stupid curtain. The obsession became even stronger as the years came face.
Harry always had a strange affinity for all things death, for some reason. He had been the only person in living memory to survive the Killing Curse. He had a combination of Basilisk Venom and Phoenix tears coursing through his blood stream. He survived the Killing Curse again and claimed the Deathly Hallows.
Seventeen confirmed assassination attempts on his person later, Harry survived, still in possession with the three most sought out magical objects in the history of the world. The fact he was the only one who had the potential to use them for long without falling victim to their curse didn't stop greedy witches and wizards from trying to grab them.
He sought the veil, studied it, and now Harry found himself in a brand new place, almost entirely by accident.
'Am I dead?'
The first question any rational person would ask when in a weird situation like he was now. Yet, it was a question Harry Potter asked himself far more times than he cared to count. Was he dead? He didn't think so.
Death flirted with Harry so many times, he thought they were about ready to go steady, as weird as it might sound.
'Okay, I'm not dead. If I'm not dead, then where am I? When am I?'
Two questions anyone who had been through the trials Harry had would ask. He had to ask it. All went back to what he learned about the veil.
'No one has been quite able to pierce the mysteries of the Veil of Death. Most who pass through it, end up being brought to their final reward or final torment. A few may end up elsewhere, but no confirmed evidence exists of anyone ever returning back from a trip to the veil.'
No one could survive the Killing Curse. No one could fight a Basilisk at the age of twelve. No one could create a fully fledged Patronus and run off a hundred Dementors at the age of thirteen. No one could hold their own in a tournament made for overage magic users at the age of fourteen. No one could survive multiple battles with the most dangerous Dark Lord of the 20th century. And no one, could unite the Deathly Hallows without severe madness.
Well, Harry couldn't be clear of the final point, he was no expert on mental health, his own especially. Living for ten years in a cupboard underneath the stairs may have left Harry with just a few issues.
After the latest little trip through the veil, Harry wasn't certain about his ability to return. Then again, he couldn't be certain of his ability to return anyway, without knowing where here was.
He most certainly could not disapparate off of the island without having a good idea where it was and the path he needed to do to get back home, if at all possible. A quick look around told Harry he had been surrounded on all sides by water. He was on an island, somewhere.
Geography was not a subject which was taught at Hogwarts.
Harry stood in the middle of the island. He felt about a week's worth of growth on the side of his face. It had been a lot longer between stepping through the veil and landing here than he thought.
"I think the storm just about subsided….good we can begin. We can't be behind schedule."
Voices on the island meant Harry Potter was not alone. He noticed there were some other people on the island, but they didn't notice him, at least not yet.
'Better not test my luck.'
Harry needed to find shelter, but where. There was a small wooded area off to the side where he landed and also the source of the voice he heard. He listened to them speaking in low whispers.
The former Boy-Who-Lived stopped short and noticed something submerged half-buried in the ground, just waiting for some unsuspecting person to step onto.
'Land mine,' Harry thought.
One subtle sweep of the island told Harry it was littered by landmines and traps. Whoever stepped onto this island stepped into a walking deathtrap, and they didn't want the people on the island to leave alive. Harry had to watch his step.
"Make sure our insurance policy is secure."
Harry hazarded a guess they weren't the friendly type, the other people on this island. Just a hunch, the type of people he should be avoiding at all costs.
Like it had so many times before, curiosity had gotten the better of Harry Potter. There were so many times where he didn't have to stick his nose into other people's business, along with the many times where he kind of had to because it would be the only way he would learn things.
'Of course, I'm going to follow these two.'
Harry could either find a way out of the death trap of the island or follow two men who obviously found a way onto the island on their own accord. They might, unwittingly, clue him on a way to get off of the island.
'It wouldn't be me if I didn't follow them.'
Harry stood, behind the cover of crush to the two men who stopped. A group of about six or seven more men, who had been armed, moved around.
'Really well trained, and organized. And that makes them dangerous as well. Going to have to play it carefully, Potter.'
Careful normally had not been Harry's middle name. He had to maneuver around the traps. His danger sense heightened after an entire life time of peaking over his shoulder.
"Fyres is being a real pain, isn't he? Wonder what has his knickers in a twist."
"Who cares? As long as he pays us well, I don't really care what he's up to."
Okay, so now Harry was dealing with the mercenary types who were only out for the money. He could respect them for their principles, money was of course the solution to all of life's problems. And the cause of all of life's problems as well to be fair.
"Make sure no one is lurking around."
"Who would be lurking around on this island? No one is going to take a vacation on it. It's out in the middle of nowhere."
"Hey, I'm just telling you what the boss says. You want to take things up with the boss, fine, take it up with him. But, don't be surprised if you have to deal with the boss's new friend."
"The weirdo in the mask?"
"Yeah, him. Guy looks like he can take you out in one swift move. But, he's sticking to Fyres like glue to a toilet seat."
"What? Does that….."
"Never mind, the point is, he never leaves his side. Which means he's being paid the big bucks. More than us….just keep a look out and make sure no one is coming around."
"I don't suppose someone is just going to drop from the sky and land on this island. This place is purgatory, the only way off is the way we got on here."
Hello, they had a way off of the island. Harry intended to listen into the conversation closely. A rather frazzled looking gentlemen rushed and nearly tripped one of the land mines. His buddy held up a hand to stop him.
"Whoa, slow down here, mate, you trip one of those things, and you blow your foot up."
"Yeah, I can't even take a piss in the woods without running into some kind of trap."
"Just watch your step, or you'll lose more than your head."
The man looked around and Harry thought he was looking a bit too close for comfortable. Harry closed his eyes. He could will himself invisible thanks to bonding to the cloak, occasionally. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, and despite constant study, Harry still couldn't peace together the how or the whys about how the cloak worked.
"There's guy who dropped on the island. He practically fell out of the sky."
Harry froze instantly. He took careful inventory of the paths around him. One way lead him through a very dangerous area and the other way lead him into a camp which could have had more of these mercenaries.
"Damn it, it will be our heads if someone came onto the island."
"Who could be dumb enough to come here willingly?"
"Did you see any ships wrecked in the area? Are you sure you haven't been drinking? Imagining things?"
Harry took a half of a step forward, and ended up almost stepping on a snake. It gave a hiss.
"Quiet."
The snake looked at Harry strangely and backed off. Well, Harry still had that particular gift at least.
The men were coming right here. Harry looked towards the land mine which was right between him and the men. It was time for drastic action.
Harry raised his hand and detonated the land mind to blow up the ground. A searing pain shot through Harry's arm when he tried to channel magic through it. The bolt of light caught the land mind and blew up the ground. Harry's quick reflexes through himself out of the way of flying shrapnel and rock.
He did have several cracked bones in his arm in an attempt to launch the magic. Pain beyond anything Harry ever experienced in his life shot through his body.
How did he break his arm by performing magic? Harry didn't bother, he had two legs, which picked up the pace and sprinted. The bullets soured through the air. Harry closed his eyes.
On the bright side, the shield protected him from bullets. On the negative side, the shield also burned Harry's skin and caused agony to spread through his nerve endings. On the other bright side, it took his mind away from the broken bones.
'There's something on this island, to make performing magic a far more difficult chore than it really was. Think, Potter, it has to be a rune or some kind of altar, or something blocking you. It could be anywhere, this is a big island.'
The shield flickered away just half of a second before a dart stuck Harry in the side of his neck. The poison should have dropped him instantly. Instead, Harry staggered around.
It reminded him of the time he, Luna, and Ginny got plastered off of that German Firewhisky during Ginny's eighteenth birthday party.
Harry staggered a couple of inches and saw a gentleman dressed in in black armor. He had a mask which was half orange and half black, with a sword strapped onto his back. The gentleman split into three before Harry's eyes.
'When in doubt, hit the one in the middle.'
His reflexes dulled from the poison dart injected into the side of the neck. The assassin grabbed him around the arm and twisted his arm around his back. He caught Harry with a couple of well-placed strikes to the side of his neck and one to the lower back for good measure.
Harry finally discharged him, and then collapsed to the ground, the beating getting the better of him.
X-X-X
Sara Lance clung to the side of the wreckage of the Queen's Gambit, just barely keeping her head above the water when she did.
'Guess its karma trying to sleep with your sister's ex-boyfriend.'
The girl had been dressed in her night clothes, which dripped wet with salt water. The bag she had, and her cell phone, currently disappeared underneath the water and likely sank to the bottom. She held onto the side of the wreckage with one hand and paddled herself over.
Blood dripping from her cheek was not a good thing, especially in a situation like this. Sara's breathing increased when she moved.
"Oliver?" Sara asked. "Mr. Queen?"
No answers from anyone. Sara saw the mist rising up which made it hard. Her hands started to shake. It only took a few seconds for her to cling on. She knew one gust of wind would cause her to fly.
Sara saw a life raft, and she saw the battered body of Robert Queen He looked to have dislocated his shoulder when going down with the yacht.
"Mr. Queen?"
"Ms. Lance," Robert breathed. He moved over and extended a hand to help her onto the life boat.
The boat rocked and wouldn't be able to hold the two of them. Robert looked about ready to pass out. He looked cut out pretty badly.
"Oliver, where is Oliver?"
Sara shivered. Her attire wasn't conductive for the cold air created by the storm.
"I don't know, I saw him….slip underneath, and we got separated. By the currents…..I really wish I could help you more."
Robert closed his eyes. He tried to reconcile what happened to his son. He could see the storm would take out the life boat if both he and Sara were inside of it.
"He's made it, over there, to that island."
Sara squinted to look at the island through the mist. If Oliver made it there, it didn't look very inviting. She couldn't put her finger on why, but it gave a presence of foreboding.
"Oliver, made it? Are you sure?"
"He had to….and you need to make it there, before the storm hits up again."
Robert reached into his satchel and pulled out a notebook before handing it to Sara.
"Give it to Oliver when you get there…..and tell him, I'm sorry. It went too far."
Sara had so many questions, but Robert Queen crawled out of the life boat, and made his way to the piece of wreckage which Sara balanced out. The blonde woman watched in horror when Robert pulled out a handgun and placed it against the side of his temple.
"Mr. Queen, WAIT!"
A gunshot blew right through Robert Queen's temple and he fell down onto the wreckage. His blood spilled all over from it went down.
Sara gripped the make shift paddle and worked her way towards the island. Her heart hammered tightly against her chest.
It was supposed to be a nice pleasure trip over a long weekend, and it turned into an absolute nightmare. Sara closed her eyes and the life boat rocked.
She had been stuck up on rocks. Sara slid from the boat, and crawled across the rocks before jumping onto the island.
Sara just barely made it onto the island. She tried to get out, but collapsed. A twisted ankle impeded any further movement. Sara closed her eyes, and looked up.
She smelled a fire, someone was here.
"IF SOMEONE IS HERE, HELP ME!"
From the distance, Sara saw figures approach. Relief hit her suddenly, and then fear spread the second these armed mercenaries approached Sara from all sides.
"Well, look what washed up."
Two of the mercenaries dragged Sara to her feet. She struggled to break free, and almost did. Unfortunately, she couldn't get very far thanks to her busted ankle so they reclaimed her.
'Feisty little thing, isn't she? I like it."
"Don't screw around. Fyres told us to bring anyone who comes on the island straight to him."
"Ah, seems like such a waste to have a pretty little number like this get tortured for information. Why don't we hold onto her for a while and then hand her over to Fyres? Who's going to know?"
The leader of the mercenaries stood up. "We'll know. And if you need to get your rocks off, we got a magazine back at the bunk you can use."
"It's not the same."
"Quiet! You want Fyres to send….him over here after us."
Sara had no idea where they were taking her now. The notebook clutched in her hand, which one of them noticed it.
"Hey, look at the nice little book she has!"
"Give me that back!" Sara yelled, with a shin bruising kick.
Right before she had brought down to her knees. One of them pushed her face into the dirty.
"What's this girl? Is this your little black book? Or something else?"
One of them flipped through the names in the book and frowned.
"We better show this to Fyres as well. Some of these names look familiar."
This time, the mercenaries tied Sara's hands behind her back as they marched her off.
"Let's take her. Fyres should be ready to interrogate the other one by now."
Sara wondered what they meant about the other one.
Rose Wilson utterly hated her father. Teenagers said they hated their parents and often just said it out of anger and angst. Rose, however, really hated her father, and wanted to kill him.
Slade worked as the world class mercenary, Deathstroke the Terminator, one of the most dangerous assassins for hire in the world. Rose didn't really see much of her father, although the few times he showed up, it turned her life upside down for the worse.
This latest time, Slade drugged Rose and took her against her will, saying it was time for her to see her full potential or die trying. So he dropped her off in the middle of Purgatory to Rose to sink or swim. If she survived the harsh conditions of the island, Rose would be judged worthy. And Slade said he would finally accept Rose as his daughter.
'I wish that bastard was dead.'
She secured some food and supplies, enough to hold her off for the past couple of days. Her father, oddly enough, was present, he had some kind of job on this island, with the man running the operation. Fyres, Rose thought she heard his name was.
Rose never could get close enough to kill Slade despite her attempts to do so.
The girl's eyes narrowed. Her platinum blonde hair hung wildly past her shoulders. She dressed in a ragged black tank top and a pair of jean shorts. Despite only being sixteen years old, Rose had a fit and toned body which many might mistake for someone more mature. Rose stepped over to the rocks and surveyed the surroundings.
Slade made his way through the tent. Rose wanted to get close enough to him to take him out.
'Bastard deserves to die.'
Rose's half-siblings didn't have any better of a relationship with their father than Rose did, but Rose thought she had to prove more for some reason.
Was her mother still off on a mission? Her work brought her away from home for long times. Rose learned to fend for herself, learned skills which would allow her to survive at a young age. Her mother provided for Rose when she was around, but they didn't have the strongest relationship.
Adaline's failed marriage with Slade weighed on the woman, and Rose being around was a constant reminder of the failed relationship.
'Damn it, if only he gets left alone for two minutes, I can get him.'
Slade knew, he had to know Rose was there. Rose decided to slip away, waiting for the next moment where she could get close enough to Slade.
The teenage warrior stopped and frowned. These mercenaries were preparing for something.
Rose remaindered herself of her goal. Survive and kill Slade, it was the only thing which mattered to her.
Harry's head throbbed when he tried to wake up. The pounding in the back of his head just increased. He could see the same mercenary standing in the background, menacing and staring at him. The mask covered his face. The blade sheathed over his back could be seen.
"Well, you're an interesting one, aren't you?"
A middle-aged man came into Harry's blurred focus. He looked at Harry with a smile.
"You were brought here and my men swore you had severe burns over most of your body," the man said. "And now they're healed."
A long beat followed and Harry said nothing. The man leaned down to look into Harry's face.
"How do you suppose that happened?"
Harry smiled.
"Magic?"
The flippant answer was not appreciated by the man, despite it being technically true.
"What's your name, son?"
Harry looked towards him. Never tell them your name, first thing he learned in Auror training. It gave them an advantage over you in battle. People feared the unknown, therefore being unknown gave you an advantage.
"Not talkative, I see," he replied. "Very well, perhaps I should tell you where you ended up, even if I'm not quite sure how you got here."
The magic answer might not hold water a second time, Harry made a mental note to think so any way.
"You are on the island of Lian Yu, which is called Purgatory. It's a place where many of the worst prisoners in the world are sentence. Many barely survive a month here."
Harry knew he was on a place called Lian Yu, but he didn't know exactly where it was. Still could pose a problem.
'With my current magical problems, teleporting out of here might not be advisable. Hell with the energies on this island, I might not be able to. It might be just like Hogwarts was.'
"And yet, you're here," Harry said.
"My circumstances are different," the man told him.
"Yes, they are…and you're Fyres, aren't you?"
A frown showed Harry he was right. He also had a distinct advantage of Fyres. Harry knew his name. Fyres didn't. Harry hoped to keep it like this for as long as he can.
"How do you know….."
Harry flashed a bland smile. "Your men love to talk when they think no one is listening."
The leader of the operation frowned and shook his head.
"Yes, although I do wonder how much you know. Well, we'll find it out….after a few days without food, water, or sunlight, you might be more willing to speak, tell me why you're here, what you know, and who you are."
Harry didn't say anything. It wouldn't be the first time he had to go several days without food, water, or sunlight.
'Thanks, Vernon,' Harry thought. 'Never knew my shitty childhood could come in handy when surviving on desolate island out in the middle of nowhere.'
The man Fyres left, which left Harry around with the sunny mercenary in the orange and black mask. Not exactly someone Harry suspected would lead to a very fun conversation.
Chapter 2: CaptiveChapter TextCaptive:
Harry Potter closed his eyes and just listened to the sounds on the island. Every now and again, Harry caught a few snatches of conversation from the various mercenaries working on the island. Fyers ensured to keep his men at an ear's length, potentially thinking Harry knew too much. He didn't have a chance to look into the man's mind.
The light sound of dripping water from the side drove Harry a bit nuts. It was a constant, never-ending repetitive sound. Harry's hand turned around. The chain snapped back against the wall against the wall. The injuries Harry sustained sapped most of his energy sealing it.
He wondered how long it would be before something had to give. Every now and then, Harry caught a glimpse of the mercenary from the doorway. He saw some of the other men on the island every now and then. How long passed anyway? A day, maybe more, maybe less, without a watch and sunlight to mark the passage of time, Harry didn't know.
'Curiosity killed the cat.'
Harry chuckled at how he got captured. It would have to be his own foolish curiosity which got himself into trouble. The young man rose almost up and then dropped down onto the ground. The chains rattled a second later. Harry leaned over.
"So, you still haven't broken?"
It had been the first time since the initial meeting with Fyers which someone talked to Harry. The man in the black and orange mask looked towards him at the end of the doorway. Harry couldn't see beyond the doorway from his vantage point.
"Has he sent you here to torture me?"
"He's not paying me to do as much," the mercenary said. "But, if he pays me, I'll happily do whatever he wishes."
Harry thought about as much. The time ticked on down and he waited for what was going to happen.
"It looks like you're not the only guest here."
Not the only guest, what was this man talking about? Harry hated to even think about someone coming across this operation. It didn't seem like many people came by this island, at least among those who weren't up to any good.
'Okay magic, whatever is messing with me has to be around here somewhere. Just focus Harry, see if you can find it.'
All Harry managed to experience in his attempts to locate the rune was nothing other than a nose bleed and a shaken hand. Harry breathed in and out a half of a second later.
Harry started to quicken his breath. The mercenary from the other end looked at him.
"What are you doing?" he asked. "Talk to me."
Harry's hand vibrated a slight in an attempt to destabilize the molecules in the chain. The chain slapped against the wall and a searing pain came through Harry's body.
His body ached. The chain slipped a little bit from the wall and then snapped back against the wall. It left Harry slumped against the wall and right back to where he began. The mercenary in the doorway disappeared by the time Harry had a sense of himself.
"Accio key," Harry muttered.
Nothing, but he had to try. Otherwise, he would have been trapped there forever. The chain ground one more time against the wall and Harry slumped back against the wall.
'Just got to wait before they come back. To see if I can get the key to the chain. Providing they have it on them.'
Harry looked up and the mercenary was gone. A mysterious figure wearing an elegant green hood walked towards him. The figure's face was covered. He held out a bowl containing a soup of some sort, even though it had a stale smell.
"Eat."
The figure held out the bowl instantly for Harry. Harry knew better than to accept food from a stranger. It could be poisoned, it could have some kind of serum to lower his inhibitions. It could have some kind of truth serum in it. Harry learned how to throw off the effect of most truth serums by shielding his mind to lock away memories which contradicted the narrative he told.
It was one of the reasons why confessions underneath a truth serum were not admissible underneath a court of law. A powerful wizard had enough time to alter their mind.
"You should eat. If you want to see tomorrow, you have to eat."
The man underneath the hood told him to eat again and pushed the bowl. Harry refused to accept the food from the man. He couldn't say whether or not the best intentions were in mind.
The sound of footsteps off to the side alerted the man's attention away from the situation. He slipped out and went a slightly different way.
'So, there's more than one way out of here.'
The mercenary in the black and orange mask came back, with Fyers and few of his men following him a few steps behind.
"What are you trying to do?" Fyers asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
A frown spread across the face of the gentleman. It had been obvious the captive's resolve had not been knocked down despite their best efforts. Harry's stoic expression never once broke. He just looked up at Fyers.
"The key opening your shackles ripped out of my hand and landed on the ground," Fyers told him. "How do you think that happened?"
Harry looked up with a bleary eye and smiled. "Ghosts, gremlins."
'Accio, key.'
The key slipped out of the pocket of Fyers. Unfortunately, one of the men caught the key before it landed in Harry's occasion. Two of the guns pointed at either side of Harry's head and they clicked at his temple. One pull of the trigger it would blow Harry's head off of his shoulders.
Harry wasn't completely certain if a gunshot to the head would hurt him or not. He really didn't want to find out.
"What are you?" Fyers asked. "Are you one of their's?"
'One of who's?' Harry asked. 'Why do I have a feeling I'm getting accused of something I didn't do? AGAIN! There has to be a perfectly logical explanation.'
"I don't have an idea what you're talking about."
Fyers snapped his fingers and motioned for the mercenary to come into the room. The men parted away from Harry.
Harry nearly had the gun figured out just enough to remove the firing components for the gun. They drew a bit out of range where he couldn't do any passive. At least, Harry couldn't do it in his current condition.
"Make him talk," Fyers said. "Your payment will be doubled to do so."
The mercenary answered with a nod and walked over towards him. A dagger wielded in his hand.
"There are numerous parts of the body which will bring you inhumane amounts of pain. And injuries in these areas won't kill you, but it would make you wish it would."
The dagger stabbed into the back of Harry's leg. His agony increased the second when the blade entered the back of his leg. Harry closed his eyes to try and block out the pain. The pain increased with the blade pushing into the back of Harry's leg and drawing out of his leg.
"Are you willing to give up who you're working for?" Fyers asked. "You're working with them….you're working with him…you're one of their experiments."
No, Harry didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about. It annoyed him a little bit. The mercenary pulled back the blade.
"Stab him again."
The dagger slammed into the front of Harry's leg and drew blood. It almost cut him to the bone, but the mercenary pulled back. The agony spread towards Harry's body.
"Tell me your name."
Harry looked up with a firm look in his eyes. He absolutely refused to give up anything. The agony of the cuts spread into his leg. Slowly, the wounds healed, but they took longer to heal than the previous wounds healing.
The chains hooked Harry against the wall started to heat up and rattled loose. He relaxed his body, drew all of the power into himself, and ignored the stabbing pain which entered the back of his leg one more time.
Rose Wilson perched herself from the front of the trees. She heard the yell of "stab him again" from the tunnels deep underground. Her father returned to work and made her blood boil.
Two of the men stood underneath the tree and walked back and forth with each other.
"What is the boss going to do with the girl?"
"The boss is more preoccupied with that weird hobo guy who dropped out of thin air. I handed him the book, but he just put it away, saying he'd look at it later."
Rose listened closely, so they had at least two people captive. Her father was involved, likely just the dangerous weapon this Fyers guy pointed at his prisoners. What were they doing on the island?
'No, your survival is important, no one else. Keep focused, find a way to get to him, and get off of the island.'
Every now and then Rose caught a glimpse of her father, fleeting, wearing that mask, practically taunting her. Rose had no question about it. She knew Slade knew and he knew she knew. And it put her back to square one.
Rose had to make her move now sooner or later. While Fyers had been distracted by whatever he was doing interrogating his captives. He had at least three prisoners at this point, that hobo looking guy, the blonde who washed up on shore, and the old man's daughter, to get him to comply with whatever Fyers was up to.
'Pretty populated island all things considered.'
One of the men lingered off to the side from the others. He whipped out his cigarette to have a smoke. Rose dropped down, and grabbed the man by the throat and pulled him into the woods.
She only had about two minutes before the others noticed him. Rose grabbed the man by the throat and held a roughly made knife at the man's neck. Her prisoner looked at her.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"You're my hostage, and you're going to help me get to Slade Wilson."
The man was about ready to open his mouth to scream. Rose held the knife at the man's throat and didn't cut into the throat, at least not yet.
The truth was, Rose never killed anyone in her life. Thought about it, but never came close to doing so. Her father put her in a position where she might have no result. Her mother said murder was the last resort, and it was obvious she must have done so.
"Slade? I don't know who you're talking about."
Rose reigned in her temper which always lingered closer to the edge.
"Deathstroke? Does that name ring a bell?"
The fact the man's face turned white as a sheet told Rose he damn well knew who Deathstroke was.
"Fyers hired him," Rose said. "Get me to him, and I won't kill you."
The mercenary had not been hired for his bravery. The sounds of footsteps off to the side caused Rose to waver. She grabbed the man by the arm and put the knife to his throat.
"Keep your mouth shut if you want to live!"
The man shouted "HELP!" and Rose froze.
'You son of a bitch!'
The brush pushed across, and Rose kicked the hostage into the tree. A huge and crudely made battering ram swung and gave Rose the attempt she needed to disappear further into the woods. She could almost hear Slade's taunting voice through her mind, telling her how sloppy and unrefined she was. How her technique needed work. Rose heard it and Rose hated it, much like she hated her son of a bitch of a father.
No disrespect meant to her grandmother, Rose never met the woman. But if she was anything like Slade, then Rose would take back the no offense.
'These assholes shouldn't be hard to lose. They're hired help, the only ambition is not screwing up enough to get killed, or have their bank accounts.'
Rose made her way behind a bamboo hut. She lost them and had gotten further away from Slade.
'Fuck this. I'm just going in there and stabbing the asshole. What's the worst that could happen?'
The only problem Rose saw was there was now a small group ready to make her hostage number four. Time to show them what she was made of and all she had to defend herself was the crudely made knife she put together on the island and her wits.
'Then again, going against these guys, using my wits is about like fighting a man without arms.'
"She's after Deathstroke…..it must be his brat!"
Rose rocked her head back, rolling her eyes at that statement. She knew it would be beyond impossible to fight all of them.
Perhaps, though, she could find a way around most of them. Rose eyed a couple of the paths. She spent the last several weeks keeping an eye on all of the parts on the island which could put her in danger. There were some paths which ran a huge risk, but it would get her back around to where Fyers at his prisoners holed up.
And where Slade stood guard.
Sara didn't really know what to make of the situation. She had been put inside of a room which was barely bigger than a broom closet. They dropped off some clothes for her to put on, which Sara as grateful of. Having underclothes dripping wet and stinking of the sea wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world.
She dressed in a coat which was about two sizes too big for her. The sleeves cuffed up and she continued to swim in the coat. Sara tied the belt on the pants she had been given as tight as possible. It would still slip off when she made a step forward. Not, Sara had a chance to walk too far in the situation she was in.
She had been trapped here, with the leader of the ruffians on the island saying he'd figure out what to do with her. She had been left some cold soup, crackers, and some bread, not exactly the best meal in the world, but it was suffering.
What she had not been left was the book Robert Queen dropped into her hand before taking his own life. And no clue whether or not Oliver made it to the island, been picked up by someone, or something else.
Sara leaned back against the wire chair which they had been left against the ground. Every now and then she heard the voices. Somewhere above her, a sink dripped, which meant they had indoor plumbing somewhere on the island. The dripping started to get on Sara's nerves.
The door remained locked tight. Sara would just have to wait for them to come back.
Footsteps grew closer to the door and they didn't walk away. Sara kept a careful eye on them on the other end of the door. The door opened and a trio of the men got up and looked at her.
"Get up."
Sara really didn't have too much of a choice with one of them grabbing her by the arm with a forceful pull and yanked her down a rather narrow pathway. She realized the dripping she heard was not from a sink of any sort, but rather through a crack from the rock.
"This is all been a huge mistake," Sara said. "Look, my….."
"Be quiet, keep your head down, and you might get back home safely."
One of them spoke in one of the kinder voices possible, but it was obvious by the look on his face, he was not one to be trifled with. They nudged Sara down the hallway. She didn't have much room to try and get away, without being stabbed, shot, or just otherwise beat to death.
Sara saw the man who took the book from her. He looked at her with a look.
"So, they sent you and your accomplice here? Well, it won't work."
She had been pushed through the door. Sara looked down and half-expected to see Oliver chained up. However, she saw a worn down male who wasn't Oliver. She wondered what the hell happened.
A man in the mask moved away so Sara could get a proper look at him. Sara could not quite look away from the car crash of several jagged lines cut through his face, his chest, and his arms as well, not to mention through his legs.
"He's tougher than he looks."
The man who lead the operation responded by nodding.
"I wonder if she's been enhanced like him."
A pair of green eyes flashed open and the chain started to rattle him. The man in the orange and black mask nodded.
"So, I wonder if your accomplice is willing to talk when you wouldn't?" the man asked.
The cut up prisoner looked the man in the eyes. "I've never met her before in my life."
"That remains to be seen," he said.
Sara saw the mercenary approach her with a knife extended and ready to cut into her at a moment's notice. She tried to step away, but the goons held her in tight.
"Who are you? How are your injuries healing?"
The captive blonde stopped and stared, those cuts on the other man's arms were healing up as well. Sara couldn't even believe it, the rest of those cuts still were prominent, although maybe a bit faded.
"Tell me, or I'll go after you."
"You go after her?" the prisoner asked. "That makes you a coward, doesn't it?"
The chill entered the room with the temperature dropping a good twenty or so degrees, or maybe it was Sara's imagination. But, things had gotten a bit more uneasy. Sara looked towards the captive prisoner.
"I'm a man who has to do what's right for the security of many," he said.
"So, you're someone's lapdog, that's nice."
The mercenary's dagger held out and came inches from cutting into Sara's throat. He stopped when the man held up his hand.
"Fyers, you're not going to do it. Because if you kill her, your leverage is gone."
"But, she may be as durable as you," Fyers said. "Deathstroke, you know what to do."
The sword came back and Sara tried to stare it down without flinching, knowing it might just make it worse.
"Wait!"
Deathstroke paused for a minute and pulled the sword back. The young man against the wall stared up, contempt being obvious when he did. He stood up.
"I'm a wizard."
"I don't believe you," Fyers said.
"My name is…"
The sound of an explosion from outside brought the attention of Fyers, Deathstroke, Sara, and the rest of the mercenaries away from the exchange. Chains broke free from the wall and the young man slumped, standing still.
"It's her," Deathstroke said. "She's coming for me."
"If you ruined this operation because of your…"
"She won't make it," Deathstroke responded.
A chain whipped out and wrapped around the throat of one of the men who held Sara. The sound of his neck snapping could be heard when he dropped down to the ground. Some gut shots fired off, but a table flipped over to block the barrage of the bullets.
The young man swung the chain back, with Fyers being pulled out of the way. Sara fell down onto the ground, and the young man put himself in front of her and the guy, Deathstroke!
"You're free," Deathstroke said. "Good, I like a moving target better."
He moved quick and the blade slashed Harry on the side, injuring him. He closed his eyes and almost staggered back. The chain whipped forward, but Deathstroke severed the links and left the weapon unable to be used. Deathstroke caught his opponent with a series of punches to the chest.
Sara watched, her adrenaline pumping and a figure made her way down the tunnel, knocking one of the guards down. The young platinum blonde woman, dressed in a tank top and pants stepped in.
Deathstroke turned around to face her. He chuckled.
"Kid, you have some nerve, trying to get a piece of me."
She tried to use the makeshift blade to take down Deathstroke. He took her down with a sweep and held the blade underneath the chin of the young woman.
"And you've failed your final test."
The young man picked up a lantern one of them men was holding, broke it with his fist, and hurled white hot coals into the face of the mercenary. Deathstroke's mask burned when the coals struck him on the right side of his face.
Sara had been pulled up to a standing position by the mysterious young man.
"We need to go, now," he replied.
"Yeah, we do," Sara said.
"That means you too!"
The girl looked about ready to protest, but more came up from an underground tunnel. Fyers left instantly.
"Go to the end of the tunnel, take a right," he said. "That's the way they went."
He scooped up several bags which the mercenaries dropped and bolted out of it, right behind the two girls. They made their way down the tunnel. He reached into the bag and pulled out a grenade. The grenade rolled down and collapsed the tunnel.
The younger of the two girls shot him an angry look, fists clenching together in the process.
"Are you trying to get us killed by burying us alive?"
The man who hurled the grenade didn't say anything. He cleared the edge of the tunnel, and they were going to make it. There were a few places where they could go.
Harry Potter thought for at least a moment there was a pretty good chance they were going to die. Then, he managed to take advantage an opportunity. He was pretty sure they got clear of Fyers and his men, at least for the moment.
"Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," Harry said. "I've had worse…"
Harry paused a lifted a hand up to his face and frowned. The wound was not healing as quickly as he would be comfortable with and trying to get away from the men in the tunnel.
"Those wounds should have healed by now."
The younger of the two girls threw her hands up and looked at Harry with a frustrated look.
"Those wounds should have killed you. Exactly what was your plan before they dragged her in there? To get used by my father as target practice?"
"Wait, he's your father?" the other girl asked.
"Yes, Deathstroke, Slade Wilson, whatever you want to call him, he's my father, and I don't like it," she said. "He dragged me here and dropped me out in the middle of nowhere to test me."
Harry turned around, thinking of what he had to do next. He took in a deep breath and tried to locate the rune carving which was causing him problems. He still hadn't located anything, but there was a feeling something on the island isn't right.
"I should go and leave the two of you, you're just slowing me down," the younger girl responded. "I could have gotten him."
"No, your own father would have slit your throat if I hadn't got involved," Harry responded.
The girl threw her hands back. Harry could tell she conceded his point.
"Yes, and she would have been brutalized if I hadn't got involved when I did," she responded, pointing to the other girl. "So, what's your point?"
Harry took a moment to sigh. "My point is, we'll have less of a chance if we go our separate ways. If we band together, we might have a chance to survive, and find a way off of the island."
The younger girl leaned against the wall. She had been tired of running, to be honest.
"Fine," she said. "Just….we'll stick together for now...although how long have you been here….both of you?"
The elder blonde was the first to answer. "I don't know, a day, or two, I was caught on a yacht out in the middle of a storm. Everyone else was lost, I made my way here and that's when they picked me up and locked me up. At least until they took me to try and get him to talk…even though I don't even know your name"
Both of them looked towards Harry for a moment. He could tell there was more to the story.
"So, how did you get here?" the younger girl asked. "Or are you a spy like Fyers seems to think you are?"
"You've been talking to him?" Harry asked.
The girl threw her hands back. "His men talk, they have a few drinks, talk, say things, and they think no one picks up on it."
Harry thought it was fair enough. He saw someone moving around in one of the side tunnels. The same mysterious old man in the green hood stepped in front of him. Harry stepped a bit to the side, but almost collapsed, the wounds becoming great.
"Go this way, if you want to live," the man with the green hood said. "They're going to find you down there, or collapse the tunnels with you inside."
"So, do we trust him?" the older of the two girls asked.
"No," Harry and the younger girl said in unison.
The younger girl took a second to compose her thoughts. "He's working with Fyers, although he's being coerced. Fyers has captured his daughter, and is holding her as a hostage."
"Wait, so Fyers has three other hostages on this island?" Harry asked. "You two and the other girl?"
Harry would naturally have to go back for the other hostage, once he was sure the other two were to safety. It was kind of his thing.
The younger girl's eyes rolled in disgust. "I'm not a hostage…"
"Your father took you here and you weren't willing. What do you call it?"
Harry's challenging look made the girl shake her head. The other of Harry's two temporary traveling companions shrugged. The clothing she wore impeded her movement slightly.
"So, we go this way?"
"I thought you didn't trust him?" the blonde asked.
"I'm not trusting the old man, I'm trusting my gut," Harry said. "It's rarely steered me wrong….most of the time."
The only time Harry's instincts screwed him over was the time where he had been sent to this island, this Lian Yu. He just had to take one step closer to the cave.
The trio walked in silence when they were almost above ground, and hopefully, they could regroup long enough to find a way off of this death trap.
"I'm Sara….Sara Lance."
She sounded a bit nervous, but someone had to break the ice. She looked to the younger girl.
"Well, you know my last name, given I just told you my father was Slade Wilson," she said. "Rose, Rose Wilson…..and….."
They had moved onto the ground into an area which was murky and towards a short path which brought them to a cave. No one had been around. Harry spotted some radio equipment. He hauled the items up, and almost toppled over underneath the sheer mass.
"Here."
Rose took obvious pity on him and helped him hurl up the supplies they managed to grab from Fyers and his men. Sara took note of them as well and assisted them. They moved closer towards the cave.
Harry made sure both of the girls were inside of the cave.
"Dark, dank, and no back entrance," Rose said. "And we're supposed to be safe here?"
The long look between the two of them resulted in a long battle of wills. The clearing of Sara's throat cut it off prematurely.
"There's also all of the communication equipment," Harry said. "If we can get it working, we can find a way to call for help."
Rose muttered "Big if" but just shrugged.
Harry collapsed down, his adrenaline finally wearing off. His wounds mostly healed, but he felt like he had been torn apart and put back together the long way. Sara took a seat next to him, although Rose remained standing. She put one eye to the front of the cave.
He rifled through the bag, glad to see one of them had hair clippers because he really needed a shave in the worst way.
'Hopefully one of these bags has soap as well.'
"So, who the hell are you?"
Rose's blunt statement made Harry want to smile.
'Well, you have to trust someone eventually, and they told me their names first.'
"My name is Harry Potter, and I'm a wizard."
The following silence inside the cave made Harry almost crack up into laughter. Or maybe it was the fact he had gone completely mad.
'Well, that's always a conversation stopper.