Gabriel's Tell A Tale Emporium

Chapter 7-Right in the Bollocks Those dead eyes cast back no glimmer of recognition at Oliver’s question. “Tommy?” Oliver asked again as the blue-eyed assassin walked up to Oliver and withdrew an arrow from his quiver. Examining the green painted head of the arrow thoughtfully the assassin tapped the tip until it punctured his onyx colored glove.   A drop of crimson escaped the fresh gash and mixed with the forest green of the arrowhead.   Reaching down to pick Oliver’s discarded bow the assassin took a step back, turned, nocked the arrow and drew the bow string back to his cheek. “Don’t do it,” Oliver said watching his captor take careful aim in his direction. The assassin’s grip on the bow string loosened.   With an echoing twang the bow string jumped back into rest position as the arrow sped out from the bow toward Oliver. “Aaaaarh!” Oliver screamed as the arrow pierced his left shoulder at the joint connecting his arm to his torso.   A blaze of searing

Chapter 6-Rebirth “Wake up kid,” a far off voice spoke in the murky recesses of Oliver’s mind. A sharp pain in front of his eyes brought Oliver up from the black sea of nothingness blinking through the pain he slowly opened his eyes just in time to see an orange gauntleted hand come in on the left side of his face in an open palm slap that snapped his head to the side. Coughing as his mouth filled with the warm metallic taste of his own blood, Oliver shook off the fresh wave or stinging pain that engulfed his head. Spitting out a wad of blood, mucus, and saliva onto the dull gray floor a superhuman grip cupped his jaw and yanked his head back up in a sudden jerking motion that caused a new wave of pain to shoot from his neck and down his spine. A small groan escaped Oliver’s lips as he stared into the single brown eye Slade Wilson’s face. Where the other eye should have been a black eye patch elegantly rested on the right side of his face. The hair of his well-trimmed brow

Chapter 5-Water Makes Things Wet “How is she?” Oliver asked. “She’s stable,” Bruce’s voice crackled over the phone. “The bullet missed her heart by half an inch. The doctors have stopped the bleeding and sowed her up. Felicity will have a hasty sear and she’ll have to day in bed for a few weeks, but she is alive. “Good,” Oliver sighed in relief. “I’m …I’m sorry Oliver,” Bruce said. “That bullet was most likely meant for me. If I hadn’t…” “It’s already done,” Oliver grunted, tempering the anger he felt towards Bruce with a quick breath and an iron grip on his bow. “Just make sure she is safe.” “I will,” Bruce replied firmly. “I’m leaving Alfred here with Felicity. My presence will only bring more harm them good. I’m removing myself from the equation. I’m heading back to Gotham tonight. You should be here Oliver.” “Once I find Lawton I’ll stop by,” Oliver growled and hung up the phone. Hitting the speed dial on the phone with a quick tap of his gloved