HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ FOLLOW THE RED THREAD. ❞

IT WAS A FOUR HOUR FLIGHT FROM STAR CITY TO DETROIT. Abigail had left almost as soon as she had received the case files from Amy, and had hopped on the earliest plane. The costs had been covered by the Detroit PD, partly because they new she was worth the money, partly because of her last name. Lance. Her grandfather's name, one that still held power in the legal world, one that still warranted the pulling of strings. One that meant something. She spent most of the duration looking through the files, ignoring the alarmed looks from the other passengers as she inspected the crime scene photographs and evidential photos.

The raven on the shoulder of the skin-bag of a victim drew her gaze most, and a faint echo in the back of her head set off an alarm bell, reminding her of a case she'd come across years ago. She had already decided to check the surrounding security footage before she'd landed, because even if the victim didn't leave, the person who killed him did. By the time she reached the arrivals lounge of the airport, she was already working out a strategy in her mind.

Arriving in Detroit hadn't been as stressful as the brunette had prepared herself for. And after a long lecture from Dinah about avoiding situations that would spike her heart rate, she had prepared for the worst. The drive was uneventful. Arriving at the precinct? That wasn't. There were looks, whispers. Her face was recognised, her name was known — cops talked, and it stretched across more than just precincts. Amy Rorhbach appeared before Abigail had even breached the front doors.

"Hey," Amy uttered breathlessly, before offering a small smile, "Thank you for coming. I'm glad you did."

"Yeah well... favour's a favour, right?" Abigail's lips tugged upwards and she shoved her hands into her pockets, following Amy into the department with her duffel bag slung over her back.

As they walked through the precinct, Abigail's sharp eyes swooped the space, surveilled the area like she'd been taught to do so many years ago now. Some habits never die. Passing a desk close to Amy's, it's appearance struck an interest in the brunette. There were files and folders stacked up, a chaotic order to the mess which reminded her of someone she used to know. A pen lay abandoned to the side, strewn on the open case that the officer had been working on. But it was the loose photo half tucked into an open jumble of paperclipped papers that caught her eye.

A girl. Young, blue haired. Pale skin. Dark eyes, too old and haunted for a girl her age. She had a tragic look about her, one which all too painfully reminded Abigail of the face she saw whenever Dinah would bring out any old photos from her childhood. But what really caught her eye, was that she recognised this girl, she had seen her face before. Abigail untangled her hand from her jacket, carefully reaching to turn the photograph towards herself; she gently traced the features with her finger as she fell deeper into her own thoughts. Thought that were desperately trying to connect dots and call forth forgotten glances at tv screens and old documents.

"Lance? You in there?"

Abigail's eyes snapped up, meeting those of the woman in front of her, snatching her hand back to its previous place in her pocket. Amy nodded, before continuing to her own desk, where she picked up a small, thin manila folder with only the crime scene photos and a few sheets of paper in. She held it out to the brunette, who slowed pulled her hand back out from her leather coat, reaching cautiously towards Amy to take it.

"I assume you're gonna wanna handle this alone?" Amy stated it more than she questioned it, quirking an eyebrow, "You did that a lot."

Abigail didn't respond, looking up through her lashes at the woman and lofting an eyebrow challengingly, then opened the folder and began flicking through what Amy had collected. There was scarcely anything in there, even the autopsy seemed freshly hole-punched.

"I called you as soon as the case came in. We barely have a thing on this," Amy clarified, before sighing and letting out a soft chuckle, "The guy who would normally handle this shit isn't in. Well, the guy everyone around here is saying would handle it. I've sent him what I sent you. He's not here."

"Do you have anything else?" Abigail asked, slapping the folder shut and tucking it under her arm.

"Yeah. Back page," Amy nodded, watching as the brunette rummaged for it before continuing, "Looks like he was apart of some doomsday cult, believed it was their destiny to prevent the end of the world. That type of stuff. Like I said, way more your speed than mine."

"And the cop you found him with?"

Amy shrugged her shoulders, letting out a puff of air as though the world lay heavy on her delicate shoulders. Atlas' burden was one Abigail sometimes felt like she bore as well. It was a weight which constantly threatened to crush her.

"We're not sure. Presume he was in on it, too."

Abigail nodded appropriately before skimming through the report, flipping the page as her brows began to furrow deeper and deeper and her eyes widened and strained.

"Jesus... where did you find this guy?"

"An old abandoned building, along with the dead cop. Well, fake cop. I think it ties into another incident, a girl. Kid, really." Amy moved around the desk to lean against it, crossing her arms over her chest. "Threw a brick at a cop car. I'm not sure though. Seems too... random. Too unconnected."

"Just because something seems unconnected doesn't mean they can't lead back to the same thing," Abigail replied absentmindedly, "I'll go through the security footage—."

"You'll be hard pressed, all the angles are wrong. No facial recognition," Amy grimaced, before rolling her eyes, "And the footage itself is seedy at best. All the ones we found were in black and white, and we couldn't find any witnesses who could account for any details the camera didn't catch. The street was empty."

"Okay, I'll look into it," Abigail muttered quietly, adjusting her bag as she spun and began to walk away.

"Hey," Amy called after her, making the brunette stop and turn back to face her, "Um, if you, y'know, need help... I've still got your back."

Abigail closed her eyes and let out a gentle laugh, reminiscing for a sweet, brief moment on better days, before opening her eyes and smiling softly at her former partner, "Well, you could always show me where I can access the security footage?"

Amy's face broke into a pearly-toothed grin as she pushed off from the desk and walked past Abigail, "Follow me, Lance."

AS TIME TICKED BY, Abigail found herself burrowing deeper and deeper into the case, submerging herself as she always did when she tried to solve something like this. Amy had left within the first ten minutes, when the brunette had first started to fall into her work — she'd learnt the long way when they were partners to leave Abigail to it when she got like this. When she began to follow the red thread. Rorhbach had set her up in one of the empty interrogation rooms, wheeling in one of the tv's for her to watch the security footage from, and a pin board at Abigail's request.

The cork was already littered with pins and string, new photos and screenshots and information pinned to it. Autopsy photos, registration plates, the street the body was found on, the cop car the fake police officer used. Abigail had left her jacket strewn on the table as she watched with painful detail, the security footage, for the seventh time. She was missing something, she knew it. The angle was terrible, and the quality even worse, the grainy video barely picking up the changes in light, but seventh time lucky, right?

And then she saw it. The detail she'd been missing. A small, barely noticeable camera and with it, the name of the restaurant. Abigail grinned, her eyes lighting up in the way they always did when she found a lead, and she snatched her jacket from the chair on her way to the door, rushing out of the precinct. She hailed a taxi as soon as she could, giving out the address of a high rise penthouse that made the driver raise an eyebrow, seeing as where she had just walked out from.

Oliver Queen had multiple safe houses dotted around the continent. Abigail had learned that on the first cross continental mission she went with him on — and Detroit was no exception. He kept multiple penthouses and small warehouses here and there, often used by League members as well. And she knew for a fact that her aunt had at least one motorbike in each. One of the more thoughtful things which Ollie had done for Dinah, although she was sure it was more likely his attempt at an apology for one thing or another he'd done.

But, after retrieving a bike from the aforementioned penthouse, Abigail made her way to the restaurant. She noticed within seconds of arriving that the camera which was in place the night of the crime was no longer there. She presumed it hadn't been since before the police came knocking. Speculations on why that could be began to run around her mind and she rolled her eyes, pushing open the door to the Italian restaurant. It was late, and darkness had crept upon the dreary city, but the restaurant was still pleasantly busy, despite its locale.

She spotted the manager in moments, could pick out his nervous energy and suspicious eyes at a mere glance. But he noticed her too. Something about her must've told him she wasn't here for food, because he quickly darted through the door into the kitchen. She scoffed, chasing after him and ignoring the protests from staff and waiters telling her she couldn't go back there. Abigail entered kitchen with force, hit by the wave of warmth found from the spitting pans and burning stones, just in time to see the man burst through another back door into a different room.

She went to follow, but then her eyes fell on the chefs before her. They'd stopped the cooking, abandoned their dishes, and were turned to face her, brandishing knives and various cutlery at the brunette. One even had a carving saw. God knows why.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Abigail breathed, grinding her teeth and setting her jaw.

Then one of the cooks lunged at her with a war cry, swiping with her vegetable knife and such fury that Abigail barely had time to react. Lurching back, she missed the blade, ducking under the next attempt before she lifted her foot and slammed it into the woman, sending her crashing into the cabinets next to her. The other five chefs exploded into action, running at the woman with rage and wrath and an alarming amount of sharply edged weapons.

Grabbing the first thing within her grasp, Abigail raised it to the air and found herself facing off against armed attackers who knew their way around a knife, with a dirty frying pan.

Blocking the first swing with the base of the pan, Abigail swept under the slice of the second chef, grabbing the first's apron as she ducked past them and pulled it up over their head. She shoved them into the dry store to their left and slammed the door shut, pushing one of the counters in front. She turned back to the second one, who she leapt out of the way of and watched nearly impale a third cook — the one with the fucking carving saw. Abigail batted away another attempt to cut her with the knife with the pan and then smashed it over his head, grabbing his arm and using her own weight to flip the man over and smash him into the shelves of plates on her other side.

The third and fourth assailants came at her at once, and in her attempt to dodge the carving saw, Abigail felt the unforgiving edge of the fourth's chef knife slice her arm. Warm blood began to soak her skin and jacket, and she felt her face harden. Abigail confronted the third chef again, grabbing a towel from the hook on the wall with her spare hand; she wrapped the carving saw in it quickly as he tried to stab her, moving to the side in aversion. She then used the hand trapping the saw to wrap the third chef's own arm around himself and knocked him forwards, she darting after him to pull the metal stand of pots and pans down on top of him.

She has made quick work of the first three chefs, and hopped over the carnage to face the fourth one. Without waiting, Abigail swung her frying pan at the woman, bashing the knife that was coming down towards her with such a force that it flew from her hand. Abigail swung the metal pan down again, catching the woman across her jaw and sending her stumbling backwards where she tripped and fell to the floor. Relentless, the florist stalked after her, crouching down next to the cook with the pan clutched tightly in her hand.

She glowered down at the lady, who quite literally cowered away, "This was my favourite jacket, you dick."

Then she brought the frying pan down on her face. Standing back up, Abigail looked for the fifth chef, and let out a resigned huff. This one had a meat cleaver. But she didn't back out. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and approached the final cook with determination. The woman before her was tall, and well built. She had dark eyes and a nasty cut along her collarbones, visible under the chief's whites.

Abigail had barely taken three steps when the woman let out an ungodly bellow and hurtled the cleaver at her. She let out a panicked shit and threw herself to the right, rolling over a silver countertop and landing on her feet the other side. The chef had already picked up another knife and brought it down on the table, in the same spot Abigail had just snatched her fingers from.

The woman immediately brought the knife back up in an arc, only to be met with a saucepan to the elbow, followed by a kick to the side of her knee which caused her to buckle. Abigail then grabbed the cook's hand and pulled it backwards, slamming it down onto the burning stone in front of her and behind the chef. Skin sizzled and the woman screamed, letting go of the knife, to which Abigail then dropped her frying pan to catch mid air. The brunette dragged the woman to her feet, pressing her to the counter besides the hob and brought the knife down.

The chef caught her hand, pushing back against Abigail's attempt to stab her in the shoulder. Abigail knew she wouldn't be able to best this woman based on brute strength, so quickly changed course of action. She suddenly let go of the knife, the speed at which she did buying Abigail enough time to instead grab the woman's head and bash it against the metal surface behind her twice and then drop her.

Arm bleeding and breathing slightly laboured, Abigail then picked up the knife and stepped over the fifth woman's body. Stopping in front of the wooden door, she took a second to contemplate if she really wanted to get into this. But a favour was a favour. She took a deep breath then lifted her foot and kicked the door open. Oh. The sight before her wasn't exactly what she had been anticipating.

NOTE!
i'm so happy with this chapter!! i mean i stayed up until 2am to write but iM HAPPY!! really fucking excited to write abby's story, and i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! next one gets interesting ;)