The Arrowcave was a lair of technology and shadow, nestled beneath the foundations of an old industrial building in Star City. Touchscreens cast a bluish glow on neatly aligned arrows and hanging costumes. The air smelled of oil, metal, and a palpable tension.
Utopian, having sped from Tokyo at a pace that would make Flash jealous, stood beside Green Arrow. Both men stared at the main screen displaying a global map dotted with red question marks.
"Nothing on conventional networks," Oliver Queen grumbled, his fists clenched. "No ransom demands, no claims. It's like they all vanished into thin air."
"They didn't vanish," Marcus corrected, his voice calmer but just as strained. His senses were on high alert, listening, analyzing. "They were taken. And to make targets of that caliber disappear, you need massive resources and absolute discretion."
He turned to Oliver. "You said you had 'whispers.' Tell me."
Green Arrow tapped on a keyboard. A series of encrypted messages, opaque bank transfers, and blurry photos of cargo ships appeared.
"I put my underground contacts on it. A few murmurs. Something about a new, ultra-private circuit organizing... 'spectacles' for a very wealthy, very discreet clientele. Fights. But not just any fights."
He enlarged a grainy photo showing the emblem of a secret organization: a circle with broken lines, resembling a brain or a faulty circuit board.
"Mad Hatter," Utopian identified immediately. "He specializes in mind control. If he's involved, that explains how they can control women that strong-willed."
"And look at this," Green Arrow added, sliding a financial statement over. "Massive wire transfers, from ghost accounts, all directed to a single holding company... a shell corporation that, if you dig, has tenuous links to..."
"...LexCorp," Marcus finished, his jaw tight.
Their eyes met, a shared, grim understanding in their gaze.
"The Light," Oliver breathed. "They're behind this. They couldn't get Utopian, so they took Shayera. They couldn't control me, so they took Dinah. It's a punishment. And a resource."
"They're using them as pawns," Utopian growled, a cold anger washing over him. "Weapons for rent and trophies to be displayed."
Suddenly, a silent alert flashed on Oliver's screen. It was a message, routed through a channel so encrypted only another expert could have sent it.
Sender: HATTER.
The message was short, composed of geographical coordinates in the South China Sea, and a single sentence:
"The first show is at midnight. The caged birds fight for crumbs."
Utopian straightened up, his white and red costume seeming to absorb the cave's faint light.
"We have a destination."
Green Arrow grabbed his bow, his face hardened by a murderous determination.
"Let's give them a show they won't forget."
The unlikely duo was formed. The hunt for the traffickers of heroines had begun.