Issue 4: "A Dark Place"

Her blonde hair was matted down, dirty, hard and crusted in spots. Red and purple bruises covered most of her back and legs, though you couldn’t see them, for, in the country she was in, women of all ages were not allowed to show any skin. Her body was slightly bent as she stumbled along the dirt road, behind the man who now owned her. Yet, if you looked closely into her eyes, you would see that this young girl was not as beaten as she would like you to believe. Her eyes were still lit with fire, taking in everything around her, watching and waiting for just the right moment.

Mia Deardon had been in bad situations in her very young life - it went with the territory that she had grown up in - but this was very bad, even by her standards. Still, the more they beat her, the harder they tried to strip her of her own humanity, the angrier she became. She would not give in! In her mind she kept one phrase going, one thought that made her carry on: Paybacks were a bitch!

“You haven’t said much the entire flight here,” Ollie commented as he and his companion retrieved their luggage. They stood in the Atatürk International Airport located in the Kurtkoy district. It was the smaller of the two international airports that Istanbul boasted, and chosen by the two men for that reason.

It was true, Ollie realized. The usual banter and arguing that he was used to with his ex-CIA friend had disappeared the moment they had stepped on the plane to Turkey. The battle with Kobra and its King had long been dropped from their conversation, and the flight became unusually quiet for the both of them.

“I wasn’t put on this planet to entertain you twenty-four hours a day,” Eddie remarked.

“Never said you were; I always allow six to eight hours for sleep.”

“Let’s just do this,” Eddie said briskly as they went outside to hail a cab.

“Wonder if we’ll find an American driver who doesn’t speak the language?” Ollie mused.

The lack of response from his friend made him glance over and notice the look on the man’s face. Eddie’s jaw was set tight; his entire body seemed on the edge of exploding. It didn’t surprise Oliver in the least. They were getting close to finding Eddie’s daughter, but it was in what condition that had them both worried.

Ollie knew the kind of people they were going up against; he had dealt with them before. Eddie was ex-CIA. He knew all about white slavery.

A taxi pulled up and they got in it, never noticing the two American men who seemed to be watching their every move. As the cab pulled away, the two men jumped into their own vehicle and began to follow at a safe distance.

“We’re being followed,” Eddie said from the back of the taxi.

“You sure?”

“Just as sure as I was about that street walker you hooked up with in Athens.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Eddie chuckled for the first time since their ordeal with Kobra. “Can’t help it; I enjoy saying I told you so, as well as watching you scratch your brains out for three days straight.”

Ollie ignored the comment and tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder. “Can you move a little faster?” he shouted at the man, speaking slowly.

“He’s not deaf, you idiot,” Eddie said, throwing his hands up in the air.

The taxi driver, however, looked at him a bit confused. His English was good, but he did not understand the question. “I drive speed limit.”

“No, you don’t understand, pal,” Ollie explained. “We’ve got people following us. We need you to lose them. There’s a big tip in it for you.”

The taxi driver became anxious. “You are wanted men?! I should know better than to pick up American men in nice clothes. Always trouble.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Eddie said as he glanced out of the back window and saw that the car was making its way closer to them.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Ollie sighed as he reached in his long bag and pulled out an arrow. “Okay, move over. I’m driving.”

The taxi driver’s eyes widened as he saw the green arrow in the American’s hand. He let out a shout, hit the brakes and jumped out of the car. Ollie swore under his breath as he climbed into the front seat and threw the car into drive, hitting the gas just as the stalking car behind them had caught up.

Eddie was thrown against the back seat with the sudden change in speed. “You do have a way with people.”

“That wasn’t the response I was hoping to get, but it was a pretty stupid move. Dinah always says that I need to think before I act.”

“What I want to know is your secret for getting those weapons through customs?”

“No secret. It’s called a Justice League Priority One card. Now hold on.” Ollie swerved in the traffic, trying his best to lose the guys behind him.

They were making their way to their final destination, but not without obvious trouble. Neither Eddie nor Ollie knew who was chasing them, but it was obvious that, whoever it was, they weren’t friendly.

“Can you lose them before we get to Asad’s estate?” Eddie asked.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Ollie swung the car into oncoming traffic, swerving to miss three automobiles that were speeding at them. As the other car followed, maneuvering around the cars that had suddenly swerved and hit their brakes to avoid a collision, the driver gunned it, causing him to strike the back end of the taxi.

Both men in the taxi were thrown forward by the impact. Eddie swore out loud as he finally got a look at the two men chasing them.

“What?! WHAT?!” Ollie screamed as he brought the cab back into the correct lane, narrowly missing the opportunity to clip another car’s rear bumper.

“I know that man driving. I used to work with him.”

“CIA? We’re being chased by the %#$@ CIA!” Ollie shouted.

“Maybe?” Eddie said. “Honestly, I lost touch with him. Don’t know what he’s doing anymore.”

“I think it’s time you told me what you did to piss your former employers off, don’t you?”

“ No.”

Ollie was about to retort when a young blond man seemed to stumble out into the street right in front of them. He didn’t even have time to swear or move the steering wheel before the kid flew up onto the hood of the car.

It registered to Ollie that there was no thud about half a second before the guy went rolling across the hood and into the windshield. It cracked as Queen instinctively hit the brakes, wishing he hadn’t as the young man then rolled off the hood of the car and onto the street in front of them.

“What the hell happened?!” Eddie bellowed as he checked his nose to make sure it wasn’t broken after the sudden stop.

“I hit a pedestrian,” Ollie said as he grabbed his bow and quiver from the back seat and scrambled out of the car. He noted that the young man wasn’t moving, but the car they were being chased by had parked in front of them, blocking them.

“Well that was a stupid thing to do,” Eddie said as he, too, dove out of the car.

Always making the wrong choices; the reason I gave up leading The Outsiders, Ollie thought in disgust as he made his way to the unconscious body in front of their taxi.

“Stay right where you are,” screamed one of the agents as they got out of their car, pulling their weapons out.

“Who the hell is that?” Eddie asked as he watched the fourth attacker of Connor’s take off in the van. “Hey, I think this guy was being attacked,” he said as he looked at the other three bodies lying around.

“He’s still breathing,” Ollie whispered under his breath, and quickly shoved his baggage under the car. He then raised his own arms up over his head.

The two men walked up to the duo. “You are both under arrest.”

Eddie smiled pleasantly. “Hey, Phil, been a long time. How’s Tara and the kids?”

CIA agent Phil walked over to Eddie and sneered. “You always were a pathetic loser, Fyers. Never could keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

“You should talk.”

Phil let out a cry of anger and struck Eddie in the side of the head with the butt of the gun. Eddie fell over with a sickening thud.

“You son of a bitch,” Ollie screamed as he leapt up, only to be kicked back onto the ground by the other agent. Ollie coughed as he clutched his stomach. “You @$$^%@! You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

“I’m afraid it’s you who doesn’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Ollie gave him a cold stare. “You CIA agents are all the same.”

They laughed at this. “Not all of us,” the one called Phil said.

Ollie saw the butt of the same gun come towards him, felt that moment of pain in the back of his head, and then was enveloped by darkness.

As the two were loaded into the back of the car, the young blond man opened his eyes long enough to see them driving away. He made a mental note of the license plate before he passed out again.

There was light as he opened his eyes. Ollie focused past the pounding headache and looked around at the room he was in. It seemed to be some kind of servant’s quarters. Several beds lay against both sides of the wall. It was almost, Ollie thought, like a barracks of some sort.

Two men of Turkish descent stood at the end of the room talking in whispers. When they saw that he was awake, one of them left the room and the other stood at the door, staring at him with cold, hard eyes.

“Any chance for some water?” Ollie called out, expecting the reply that he got – silence.

The knots that bound him were tight and well constructed, he observed. There was no way to reach his JL communicator or even his Outsiders one. Not that he wanted to contact them, anyway. He had gotten himself into this mess, and he’d get himself out. Dinah would have called it “stupid pride”, which it probably was. It was the same pride that had nearly cost the life of every Outsider that had been under his command. He shook that thought away… now was definitely not the time for self-reflection.

The second guard came back and the two of them spoke quietly again. He could make out that they were not talking in English. He looked around again, realizing that Eddie was no where to be found. Great, not only did he have to get himself out of this mess, but Eddie as well.

As the two guards walked towards him he noted that both were large men; built to fight, he assumed. “Either one of you know a good place to eat around here?”

“Shut up, American pig,” one of them spat out as he untied Ollie’s hands. The other hung back, pointing an automatic rifle at him.

“Wow, you are doing wonders for the whole stereotyping thing. Bush and Cheney would be very proud of you.”

He was struck in the face by the back of the man’s hand. It felt like he had been hit by a sledgehammer. Ollie said nothing else as he allowed the man to drag him by the arm, out of the room and into a long hallway. It was ornately decorated with Turkish tapestries as well as vases that looked like they belonged in a museum.

At the end of the hallway, they knocked on a door and were beckoned inside. They opened the door and Ollie found himself in a room the length of a football field. At the end of this large room sat an extremely large desk, and a man who, while sitting, was about six feet four, and who was dressed in a rather nice and very expensive suit.

“Please, come in and have a seat,” the man beckoned as his voice echoed in the chamber.

Ollie walked to the desk, taking the chair directly in front of the man. “And you are…?”

The man smiled. “Exactly who you came to see, Mr. Queen. I am Kemel Asad.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to know that you’ve got CIA agents in your back pocket then. You can always tell who a man is by the people he owns.”

Kemel laughed heartily. “American smartass! Yes, I have heard you have a wicked tongue. Amusing as it is, though, I am curious as to why you are here, in Istanbul? More to the point, why you are working with the American traitor – Eddie Fyers?”

American traitor? Eddie really needs to tell me what the hell he’s been up to, Ollie thought to himself. “My pal may be a lot of things, but he’s no traitor,” he replied.

“Perhaps, but that is not the meat of the question, is it? Why are you, Mr. Queen, an American businessman, in this country with him? What are you looking for?”

“See, I think you know why we’re here,” Ollie replied.

Kemel Asad smiled mischievously. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m guessing you’re not going to come out and tell me. We will have to do this the hard way? Yes?”

“If by hard way, you mean plying me all thirty-one flavors of Baskin-Robbins ice cream, then why not. Let’s see what happens with that.”

Asad’s face grew dark. “You are so far over your head; you are a dead man who doesn’t even know it yet.”

“Better men than you have told me that,” Ollie scoffed.

“Take him to the cellar and prepare him,” Kemel barked.

Mia Deardon had been washed and dressed in nice clothes. Not the clothes of a Middle Eastern woman, like those she had been dragged to this castle in, but a nice red and black full-length dress of American design.

She was led into a modest bedroom chamber with a blazing fireplace on one side, and a four poster canopy bed on the other. She was an observant young woman; having lived on the streets, you get that way rather quickly. That was why she found it odd that the room was not decorated in the flavor of the country she had been smuggled into. No, the tapestries on these walls were all wrong. They had more of a European feel to them. There was also a flag that hung on the far wall, but what country it was from, she couldn’t place. School had sucked anyway, and Social Studies had not been one of her favorite subjects.

“Wait here,” the man commanded and left the room.

Mia only had to wait a few minutes when the door next to the flag opened up and a man walked out. He was a blond man who wore some kind of uniform. The green cloak billowed out behind him as he entered the room.

He smiled kindly at the young woman, who backed up at the sight of the man. His smile never faded; he just held out his hand to her, yet, she refused to move any closer to him.

If she thought this would make him angry, she was wrong. Instead he nodded, as if understanding her feelings, and turned and walked to a high back chair, sitting in it.

“I can wait,” he said finally. His voice revealed that he was not, in fact, from this part of the world at all. It was an accent that seemed almost… Russian? Mia couldn’t tell for sure since she had never actually met a Russian.

“Who are you?” she demanded, crossing her arms in front of her.

“My name, little lady, is Count Werner Vertigo, and I welcome you to my home. You shall be here for a long time, so I hope you come to think of it as your home as well.”

To Be Continued![/b]