#petty

       Oliver was so exasperated about his son that he let slide Slade’s comment about how he would have loved to hear the pleading in the past without any sort of remark or acknowledgement. Right now, he had more important things to worry about.

       The hand to his shoulder along with the squeeze was definitely a bit helpful, allowing for the archer’s muscles to lose some tension. He was thankful and glad that Slade agreed to help him, causing a small smile to form on his face as he looked at his friend.

       “Thank you.” Then the question about how he can help arose. “All I know is that there were men who broke into my home and took him away.” I wasn’t strong enough to save him, he almost added, but he knew that it was not time for a self-pity party at the moment.

       “Felicity is working on tracking him down, but I need your help with being the brawn once that location is found.”

Slade could feel the way Oliver seemed to relax, if only a little under his touch. He knew they’d put their past behind them for the most part, but the mercenary still found himself feeling surprised that the comfort in that touch had worked. 

“I know it’s easy to forget, kid,” he started saying, a smirk appearing on his features, “But I’m good for more than just brawn.” He let out a strangely good natured laugh, pulling his arm away from Oliver’s shoulder. 

“I might only have one eye, but it’s a good one.” There was a bit of humor in his tone, trying his best to get Oliver away from the dark place that he knew all too well the loss of a son put someone in. “If you’ll let me, I can take a look around the scene and see if I can find anything you missed.” 

@deathxstroke || plotted for a starter

       “Slade—”

       Voice hoarse and body threatening to tremble at any moment if Oliver thinks about what was at stake right now, he approached his former enemy, newly-renowned friend already in his Green Arrow outfit.

       “They have him.”

       William. Someone kidnapped his son from his own home, and Oliver could not get to them. It ANGERED him to no end that he wasn’t able to save his own son, and he needed all the help he could get. Felicity was on the lookout on her monitors, and John was out and about in Star City just in case something comes up and Oliver needs him there.

       “My son—they have William.”

       Slade would help—he would understand. Despite their differences, he knew that his friend would not turn his back to him when it came to family.

“I remember...” he mused, moving a bit closer to Oliver as he spoke, “It wasn’t that long ago that I would have given anything to see you pleading to me like this.” He knew it was tactless and insensitive to bring up at the moment, but the older man couldn’t help himself. 

He reached out, placing a large, heavy hand on the Green Arrow’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “My help is yours. I owe you, after all.” He knew that he owed Oliver more than he could probably ever repay considering what he took from him... And yet he’d still asked Oliver for a very similar favor not too long ago. 

Digger’s eyes widened and a gleeful smile spread over his features as the darkness fell over them. Power fluctuations, the emergency lights blinking into existence… what usually came next was all too obvious. “Guards’ll be up soon t’check on us.” He whispered before clicking his tongue and winking. “Follow my lead, Mate.”

Sure enough, a buzzer sounded, followed by the heavy swing of the large metal doors to their holding area. The sound of boots on concrete and heavy breathing filled the room as a couple guards rushed in, hoping their prisoners were still secure. A sense of panic definitely hung about them, Digger could tell that much, even in the inky blackness of the area. He was crouching at the edge of his cell, right next to the bars and with a piece of mangled bed-railing still clutched in his hand. Smirking to himself, he let out a hushed whimper. 

“…What was that?” One of the guards whispered. After receiving no response, from neither prisoner nor coworker, he slowly made his way closer to one of the cells. The emergency lights did a poor job of illuminating his way, the short path in front of him suddenly seeming very long as he stepped carefully across the cement floors.

Though the last thing on Earth Slade wanted to do was follow the other prisoner’s lead, he did take the time to listen to what the other might have up his sleeve. The whimpering was all he needed. An old trick, but he supposed in the panic of the power outage, it just might work. 

“He’s been making noises like that all day.” He pointed out with some level of annoyance. Don’t know what’s wrong with him but it’s getting on my nerves.” He moves up to the bars, looking out at the guards as one moved closer to Harkness’ cell. 

After being met with a decidedly unhelpful attitude, Digger went back to trashing his mattress. He could hear the other man in the cell next to him huffing; probably doing push-ups or sit-ups or some other sort of ‘-ups’ that would do no good when it came to figuring a way out of this joint.

A chuckle, accompanied by some short breaths, drifted from him as he finally got a hold of what he’d been looking for. Several good yanks and one of the cheap, aluminum bars gave way, coming right off in his hand. “Hah! There it is then… hah… this should do well ‘nuff!” Digger fell back onto the floor, almost giddily, as he plied the metal into a more angular shape. He almost didn’t notice the lights above them dim and flicker for a moment… until they did it twice more. 

“Hold up… y’see that?” A beat passed, the Australian’s eyes scanning the ceiling. “What’s goin’ on up there?”

Though he wished he was, Slade was not, in fact, capable of turning off his hearing entirely. Thus, he could hear the Aussie in the next cell become excited about something he’d presumably found in whatever part of his cell he’d been destroying. Telling himself not to get pulled in, Slade simply switched arms and went back to his workout... Until opportunity flickered before them. Once and then again, the lights dimmed and returned. 

“I did see that...” Slade replied, as he ceased his push-ups and rose to his feet, squinting his remaining eye up at the ceiling. “I would say that our luck has just gotten exponentially better... or far, far worse.” He found it hard to believe that their luck could really be so good that A.R.G.U.S. could actually lose power out of the blue like this. It was far more likely that something terrible was happening on the surface. They could only hope that it was something terrible that they could take advantage of. 

The lights flickered twice more before the criminals were finally bathed in darkness and a supremely dim set of emergency lights barely illuminated the prison. Slade could make out the distant sounds of movement neat the entrance. 

“Ah, ‘course, ‘course… Give th’ fellow who’s gonna get your ass outta here a hard time.” Digger stood up and leaned back, trying to get a good look at the ceiling. He stared for a while, squinting at the florescents, before finally looking away, satisfied that there was nothing of use up there.

The creak of the cot from the cell next to him seemed to bring something to mind, his brows raised inquisitively. He was on the ground again in the blink of an eye, this time closer to his own cot. A focused grin was plastered across his features as he set his hands to work, untying and ripping at the the meager bedding. There were no springs to speak of hidden inside the ‘mattress’, certainly a precaution the guards would’ve taken against lock-picking temptations. But the base of the cot itself…flimsy aluminum bars… Digger perked up as he continued to mangle the mattress pad.

“Y’know, I might jus’ end up leavin’ ya behind…” He smirked.

Slade continued his push up regimen without faltering. The sounds of fabric tearing and general destruction drifted to his cell from Digger’s. Listening, intently to his work, Slade put his left arm behind his back, pushing himself up with this his right. 

“If you’re trying to make something, better make sure it looks like you’re just being a destructive idiot or they’ll take you bed away.” A rare piece of genuine advice. The other party likely already knew that much, but he said it regardless. After all, he might have been giving the guy too much credit. 

He nodded in agreement, though his company wouldn’t have been able to see the expression. “S’pose that makes sense…” Digger scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Th’old witch has a plan for everything don’t she? Even down ta outdated war tactics… S’not like we’ve even made a move to escape!” 

Folding his arms across his chest almost belligerently, though again, the action could not be appreciated, Digger tilted his head in thought. Escape… now that was an idea. Not a very attainable one, given their current situation, but doable with the right resources. His eyes scanned the cell, searching for something, though he wasn’t sure what just yet. If only he could get his hands on something bendable… something he could throw… He wondered for a moment about Slade’s cell. Was it any different? It had to be, right? 

“Hey now…” Digger rapped at the shared wall again, his voice unnecessarily hushed. “Give your cell a good looky-loo for me, will ya? I’m formulatin’ somethin’ here.”

Slade rolled his eye. “You’re formulating a pain in my ass.” He sneered, though there was no way his prison mate would be able to see. As if he hadn’t looked around this cell a thousand times. He’d been here twice as long as the other man. Of course he’d done all he could to figure out a means of escape. There was none to be had. At least not in his current state. 

“Aha! It’s much easier to hold a conversation when th’other’s actually awake ain’t it?” Digger let out a barking laugh and scratched at the scruff on his chin. “Anyway, less about that dark and brooding tactics garbage. The real torture is tryin’ t’hold a conversation while yer cellmate insists on dragging down th’mood. Ain’t you hungry, mate? Don’t you wonder what we’re havin’?”

He adjusted his position so that he could lean his back up against the shared wall, crossing his legs and pulling at the loose threads on his pant leg. “And ‘sides, trying t’disorient us? What’s th’ point, y’know? Jus’ gonna send us out again. Probably with a bigger bomb taped t’our necks.” Digger laughed again, loudly and with a semblance or bitterness to his mirth.

And there it was; a twitch of irritation pulling at his brow. He didn’t bother informing the other man that he rarely found sleep and usually opted to ignore him. That would just give him something else to complain about. 

I’ve been much hungrier than this. Was all Slade would think when asked if he was hungry, but he chose to only answer the latter question. “I imagine something bland.” Another flat response. That was something he did miss. After leaving the island, he’d grown accustomed to good, expensive foods. He would occasionally fid himself yearning for something more palatable during mealtimes.