Maybe they shouldn’t have given him, the accomplice to a potential mugging-turned-sexual assault had Oliver not shot an arrow straight into the crotch of the would-be suspect, a head start, but just because they were sitting on the heroic side of the fence didn’t mean they couldn’t have a little fun with those who dared commit such repulsive acts in Star City. It didn’t matter if the Green Arrow had just been a guy running around town in a mask with a archer’s bow in tow and a quiver of arrows on his back, wholly human even down to the numerous faults he had, Oliver Queen would find a way to protect the city and those within it as long as there was air in his lungs; and, in turn, so did the rest of those who had found a sense of purpose under his - well, perhaps it wasn’t tutelage so much as it was Oliver pulling a Bruce Wayne and gathering orphans from the dangerous streets.
The only difference had been that Connor wasn’t an orphan. He was the Green Arrow’s son, biological, wearing an old uniform and carrying the same mantle that his father wore because what was better than one Green Arrow in the city?
So while Oliver played security guard to the distressed woman who saw plenty of reason, legitimate and warranted as it was, to exact her own revenge by laying a few strong kicks to the suspect on the ground, Connor had splintered away from the group like a wolf on the hunt, quick to tail the escaping accomplice, scared out of his mind and perhaps right out of his head -
- had it still be attached to his body.
“What the hell…?”
The alleyway outside of the parking structure fell into silence, a single step away from the door allowed it to start swinging back into a closed position, putting a wall of separation between the revenge antics inside and the real threat that would befall the Arrows that night. Well-worn and old, the hinges had seen their fair share of use and not enough in the way of oil, eliciting a creaking sound, long and drawn out, that an unexpected voice felt warranted to echo in short form, heralding a shift in the air as the murder weapon - an ax, professionally wielded by an assassin in black - nearly swiped the very back of his head had it not been for his quick read of his immediate area and the shifts in the wind. Launching forward, there had been enough time to get off a shot, a single arrow snapping the handle of the ax in two; but there hadn’t been time for a second one - not against a loaded gun.
“Blam.” The voice said calmly, far calmer than the loud pop of a round from the bore of a weapon that brought the once-entertained cavalry rushing in; but what did he know about that, unconscious and bleeding significantly from the side of his head? What did he know about his father having to pick him up from the ground to rush him to the hospital, all but tearing through the double doors of the entryway to the E.R. where he would be taken in for emergency surgery to remove the round and assess the damage? What did he know about the world that was moving around him in such a poor state, Mia and Dinah waiting in the upper levels of the operation theater while the very person who could help him nearly rushed out? He would have - Oliver Queen would have on his warpath to destroy whoever had harmed his son - had it not been for the very transfusion needed to save him.
“You're watching K-Star. Number one in Star City… A hero falls in Star City, we'll have the latest from Star City Memorial on Green Arrow's Fight for life…” The news had said as soon as they had gotten their hands on the scene, sectioned away from the investigation being coordinated at the scene. “… Here, now with more details from Star Memorial, is Mitch Ingram.”
“Grant, we've just received word that it's not the recently returned Green Arrow who's undergoing emergency surgery following a gunshot wound… the elder Green Arrow still hasn't left the building, so we can only assume how dire the situation inside is for Star City's greatest hero and his young counterpart.”
But this wasn’t a world where the Green Arrow, younger or older, existed in the current scope of shifters, and the news reported across television screens played out quite differently than K-Star City News had as first responders spilled out onto the streets from their stations on reports of a gunshot-related injury, phoned in by an anonymous Good Samaritan. Hands pressed firm against the injury, thankfully there had been someone in the area who hadn’t hidden from the commotion of a fight unseen, spying the signs of injury - namely the spread of crimson from his chest through his clothes - and jumping to action. It was the start of a best case scenario.
“It's Connor Hwang, 26, who sources tell us was rushed by paramedics to the U.C.S.F. Emergency Department after confronting an unknown gunman, suffering from what one eyewitness described as a 'fatal looking chest wound’…” The distance between the trauma center and operating room couldn’t have been a further distance to those who inevitably gathered, his parents - mother and step-father - rushing to the hospital as quick as they could, phoning his uncle in Los Angeles and Aiden wherever he may have been - while others found their alerts through far more technological means as A.L.F.R.E.D. branched out across telecommunication systems to access those contacts the artificial butler filed as “important” and “need to know” from a phone tree of bats and birds and Amazons; but then again, everyone would know eventually as the updates rolled in and the news continued their coverage of a superhero shot down in San Francisco, hanging on for his very life.
“No word yet on the young man’s current situation…”
“… but sources tell us the next hour in surgery is going to be critical.”