Chapter Text
Present Day
March 2021
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
The intercom rang aloud as he jammed his thumb down on the button for the twentieth time, letting it buzz in time to the throbbing headache beginning to form at the front of his head.
John waited a moment before leaning out of a dark black SUV once more, pressing at the button in a final frustrated attempt to be answered.
Giving up, he flipped open the keypad that resided next to an unremarkable rusty gate.
“Couldn’t have bothered letting me know the code.” He muttered to himself as he punched in birthdays, important dates, and finally just random numbers. “Knowing her, it’s probably just 123-”
The gate shuddered and swung open, revealing a long driveway, curving upwards and to the right.
John huffed, shocked and a little disappointed. "1234, huh?" He muttered to himself.
He ascended the driveway slowly, passing the fence and tall bushes that hid the property beyond. At the top of the driveway lay an excessive garage- cars known to most people only by reputation displayed neatly behind rows of matte black garage doors paneled with glass.
Looming over the garage was a monolith of a white house, set back in the hill. It was accented by a dark black wood and cut with so many clean lines that it came up almost completely devoid of personality. You couldn’t learn a single thing about the occupants of the house by looking at its pristine exterior. Tall cacti and succulents were the only spots of color in the bed of rocks that surrounded the house.
John parked his vehicle and hopped out, lightly jogging up the stairs that led to a set of heavy black double doors. Reaching for the large brass knocker, he realized that one of the doors lay open- just a crack. His military training kicked in and he reached for the gun holstered inside his jacket, using it to nose the door the rest of the way open. His footsteps fell silently on white marble floors.
As he walked further into the house, he found every surface littered with red cups. In the living room, a priceless vase was lying shattered into a million pieces across the carpet. A man with blue hair was snoring, passed out on the sofa with a selfie stick in hand. The kitchen floor was sticky with alcohol and last nights stale chips. He heard the recognizable sound of someone throwing up in a nearby bathroom.
John sighed, holstering his gun as he headed for the stairs. “Felicity?” he called out as he reached the balcony of the second floor. "Roy?" He tried. He was met with complete silence. “Felicity!”, he proceeded down the hallway, kicking beer cans and trash out of the way. It was almost one in the afternoon- if she wasn’t awake already, he didn’t feel bad about the hangover headache he was about to give her.
He reached what he knew to be her bedroom door at the end of the hall on the second floor, and called out when he heard shuffling within. “1234, Felicity, really? I’ve been trying to reach you all-” He was interrupted by a loud crash.
John tore open her door to find a large dressing vanity and all its contents making its way to the floor. The vanity’s mirror shattered as it toppled, pieces of it scattering well across the room. A cry rang out as one of the pieces lodged into the arm of a man who lay partially beneath the fallen vanity.
John spotted Felicity across the room as a streak of blonde hair, desperately trying to get her balcony door open. The man hauled himself out from beneath the furniture, leaving a smear of stark red blood on the white floor. Pieces of glass fell off him and tinkled to the ground as he stood there, breathing like an enraged bull. Felicity threw her full body weight into the door handle- it would be just her luck that it was locked. “You bitch!”, the man called out as he barreled towards her. She turned around and instantly locked eyes with John, a flash of relief turned into sheer terror as the man pressed her up against the glass doors, two large hands at her neck.
John climbed over the remnants of the vanity that was now blocking her bedroom door. He was across the room and on her attacker before he could process what was going on. All he could see was the terrified look in Felicity’s eyes as the man's hands flexed around her neck. Withdrawing his gun, he slammed the butt of it into the man's head. His grip on her loosened momentarily, shaking off the blow like it was nothing before he threw her aside to face John.
Fire and sheer madness burned in his eyes at the sight of John's gun drawn on him. He put his hands up slowly, backing away.
“Who are you?” John demanded.
The man's eyes roved around the room wildly like a cornered animal, his anger rising when he glanced at Felicity weakly picking herself up off the floor.
“I’m nobody.” he growled.
He lunged for the gun, receiving only an elbow in the face for his trouble. The man kicked out blindly as he went down, and the gun slid across the floor as John's legs crumpled under him.
John reached out, desperately attempting to slide the gun over to Felicity as he called her name, but the man pinned him down, delivering a disorienting blow to the side of his face.
Glass crunched under Felicity's bare feet as she ran to retrieve John's gun, grasping at it with one hand at the same moment her attacker reached for it. He ripped it out of her hand and they both fell backwards when it came free.
Both John and Felicity scrambled to their feet, standing stock still as the man pointed the gun at the two of them from his position on the floor.
John put his hands up slowly, calculating the best moment to dive and cover Felicity- but he couldn’t think fast enough. With one hand on the trigger, the man's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, as if deliberating over his target.
Before anyone could catch a breath, the shot rang out.