The Arrow & The Huntsman [The 1st Installment of DC HEROES: CHAMPIONS OF EARTH]

[33] Cry Bloody Murder

Dearden left the mechanic shop in quite a hurry after they wrapped up their business with Leonov, and all the eldest Queen wanted to do was get somewhere to hunker down until the wave of bloodlust and the sickness that came along with it subsided. He was halfway down the block before Oliver even turned the corner. That's when Dean saw the yellow taxi sitting on the corner. Ignoring his brother's calls, Dean made a run for it and slipped into the back of the cab, and told the driver where he wanted to go.

Dean sat back in the seat and took deep breaths, as a sudden heat flash washed over him and sweat trickled down his face. The driver began to pull out of his parking space and looked at his customer through the rearview mirror with concern. "Hey, man, are you ok?" he questioned. Dearden groaned. "Just drive." Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, and speed-dialed a number.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Malcolm Merlyn was in the middle of a meeting with his Board of Directors at the company. "All, I'm saying is that our numbers wouldn't be so low if we just finalized the merger with AmerTech," one of the Board members said. "No, we can't. Our deal with Unidac Industries hasn't been finalized yet," another Board member argued. Malcolm rolled his eyes, as they continued to bicker back and forth across the table.

Just then, Malcolm felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and when he pulled it out to see who was calling him he immediately stood from his seat at the head of the table, saying, "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but an emergency has happened in my family that I have to deal with." One of the women scoffed snarkily. "Did your son get another DUI?" Malcolm glared daggers at the woman who said that and she froze up immediately. After taking one last look over the table, he answered the call on his phone and left the room.

"Hello, Dean. You know that I enjoy our talks more than anyone but not at the expense of my com--" "I need your help!" Dean breathed raggedly on the other side of the phone. Malcolm paused in the center of the empty hallway and looked around to see if anyone was around, before asking, "What have you done?" Dean let out a rueful chuckle. "It's not "what I have done," it's "what am I about to do," الناصح."

As if spurred on by his nephew's words, Malcolm instantly started moving in the direction of the elevator in a hurried state. "Dean, listen to me," he whispered. "Whatever it is that's eating away at you inside, do not give in. Do you hear me? تحكم في شياطينك." "It's been six weeks since I last... Did something," Dean hissed. "I can't keep it at bay anymore. I'm already on my way to your place... And I've got someone with me."

Malcolm let out a deep exhale and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, fine. I'm on my way, but don't do anything until I get there!" he seethed. Then, he hung up the phone and walked back into the conference room. "My apologies, ladies, and gentlemen, but it appears that we will have to resume this meeting at another time," Malcolm declared. "You're all dismissed."

* * *

He was barreling fast down the highway trying to get back to his house as fast as humanly possible with beads of sweat trickling down his left and right temples. He was terrified. He was chill-down-his-spine, nightmare-fuel, beyond a shadow of a doubt terrified. But to clarify, he wasn't fearful of the way Dean sounded completely and utterly ravenous. No, that wasn't it. He was afraid for the person that was currently with Dean. The poor bastard had no idea just what kind of monster his nephew was nor the type of things he was capable of doing.

At last, he pulled up in the driveway of his mansion, but before he could get out of the car and rush around the back of the house to The Cellar, he noticed the bright yellow taxi sitting in the driveway, but that wasn't the weird part. When Malcolm got out of the car and walked around to get a better look at the taxi, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he saw the car doors were wide open with no one inside. However, it was the sight of blood splattered across the inside of windows that made his throat constrict and his blood turn to ice.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Malcolm walked around the other side of the car and saw a trail of blood leading to the back of the mansion and stopping at the door of The Cellar. The anxiety Malcolm felt doubled at the sight of the apparent violence that occurred. Without wasting any more time, he bolted off to The Cellar entrance and quietly crept inside. As he entered the cold, dank Cellar, he tried to hone in on his surroundings and search for any sign of his nephew. "Dean?" he called out into the darkness, as he closed The Cellar door. No answer.

"Dean?" No response. Instead, he could only make out the heavy breathing of someone hiding in the shadowy corner of The Cellar. Deciding that he was tired of playing his nephew's version of hide-and-go-seek, Malcolm flipped the light switch and immediately regretted it. The walls were decorated with splatters of blood. On the table, laid an assortment of bloody metal torture instruments; and on the ground were two bodies: one that had been carved and torn into in the most savage ways imaginable, the other was the distraught kneeling form of Dearden drenched in the other man's blood breathing heavily with tears streaming down his blood-stained face.

Shakily, Dearden raised his head to meet Malcolm's gaze and his breathing hitched when he saw the look on his mentor's face. "I'm sorry," Dearden sobbed. Malcolm exhaled deeply, as he approached his nephew. Then, uncaring about the suit he was wearing, he knelt beside Dearden in the ever-expanding pool of blood and wrapped his arms around his nephew.

Once he felt Malcolm's embrace, Dearden felt the last barrier around his emotions break down and the young billionaire buried his face into his uncle's chest and wailed while his uncle held him firmly in his embrace as though he was protecting him from the outside world.

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Author's Note: Translations

The Arabic words are just repeated phrases that mean "tame your demons" and "uncle"