HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ OLD FRIENDS. ❞

THE RECOLLECTION OF WHERE SHE KNEW THE BLUE HAIRED GIRL FROM, whilst an odd place to remember something, had been at her fifth gas station three quarters of the way to Washington, in the crisp and cold early hours of the day. It had hit her just as she'd paid for gas and had taken her first bite of a sandwich. Rachel Roth. The case was an old one, but it had been one of the first Abigail had taken when she started working at Star City police.

It had started simple enough. She arrested a woman who had attempted to kidnap another girl, one with blue hair and pale skin. It hadn't been Rachel Roth, but there had been similarities. Upon arresting her, Abigail watched a photo fall from her coat. An old one, crumpled and worn. Creased in the middle and folded at the edges. It had been taken out a lot, opened. Sentimental value, her head had said. She had been wrong. Retrospectively, Abigail knew now it was a photo of a younger Rachel Roth. This cult had searched for her in Star City, too.

The force hadn't let her look further into the woman and the cult, saying it was unfounded and unnecessary, but a tip to a crimson archer had seen the cult's branch in Star City shut down permanently. Abigail had run the girl's face and called the closest police precinct to the last know address to inform them of the situation; they promised her they'd keep an eye out, but she had never followed up or double checked. She supposed they stopped keeping an eye after a while. How well that turned out.

The case quietened in Abby's mind as she planned the rest of her route on her phone, mapping out the roads she'd take before finishing her food. She was about to return to her bike, when a cry caught her ears, dragging her gaze to a group of masked men pointing a gun at the man she'd just handed her money to. Her eyes hardened, face darkening as she stood to her feet, pushing her phone back into her pocket as she approached the gas station again.

If the bell above the door ringing didn't grab the burglars' attention, the sound of her black combat boots hitting the floor did. They turned to her, sneering aggressively at the brunette now stood before them, blocking their exit. It didn't deter her. She'd faced down crueller men than these. One of the men stepped forwards, swinging a baseball bat up to his other hand. A threat, how cute.

"Can we help you, sweetheart?" he asked, voice disgustingly patronising.

Abigail visibly recoiled, scoffing at the nickname, "Well for starters, you could not call me sweetheart."

A chorus of mocking oooohs came from the men behind him, and it brought her attention to the fact that only two of them had guns. The other four, including the one in front of her, were armed with bats and knives. The man before her took another step forwards, becoming dangerously close to invading her personal space. Abigail stared down at his approaching feet, before dragging her eyes up to his face, her eyes sharp. She couldn't pick another fight. She was barely recovered from the last one.

"Why don't you be on your way, sweetheart?" the man repeated, his voice lowering to a dark and menacing tone.

Abigail's lips twitched upwards. Okay. Picking a fight it was. "Why don't you fuck off?"

The man's eyes widened momentarily before anger brewed like a storm across his face and he reached forwards and grabbed her arm. Abigail looked down at his hand then back to him as she grabbed his wrist, and when he brought his other arm down, she caught the baseball bat he was swinging for her. Holding onto both his arms, she then lifted her leg and planted her foot firmly into his chest, letting go as she kicked him into the racks of snacks where he fell down cold.

"Don't fucking touch me," Abigail spat, before turning back to the five remaining. They stared at her in surprise. A wave of dejá vù washed over her as they abruptly charged. Two fights in less than a day. She was really returning to her old life a bit too easily.

One of the two with the guns kept his aim trained on the cashier, but other one joined his friends in running at Abigail. As soon as the first bullet rocketed past her, Abby burst into action, diving behind the first rack of shelves, she rolled to the end of the short row and came up in a crouch. Hidden, she avoided a few more bullets before they scrambled up the aisle after her. The brunette bounded to her feet, skidding down the next aisle and grabbing the top of the low rack, pushing herself over it and into the air. Airborne, she wrapped her legs around the shoulders of the first robber she could reach, using her body weight to pull him to the ground and herself back to her feet. He stayed down.

Abigail picked up his bat, using it to block the blow of a pocket knife wielded by a short and scrawny thug, throwing the blade-embedded stick to the side and kicking him in the stomach before he landed a punch to her cheek. Fuck. She felt her skin split, but grit her teeth and blocked his next swing, landing one of her own before smashing his face off the shelf stacked full of sweets and confectionary. She dropped him to the ground and looked up to see the one grasping the gun aiming at her. Amateurs.

Lunging forwards quickly, she pushed the gun skywards, hearing it go off twice before she pulled it from his grasp and threw it carelessly across the shop. Out of reach. He landed a blow to her stomach and she felt her chest spasm, her breath knocked straight from her lungs. It took her by surprise and the man wasted no time in making the most of it, hitting her again in the abdomen, this time catching her kidneys. That one really hurt. Abigail let out a choked breath then clenched her teeth and forced herself together. The wind gone from her lungs, she saw stars explode into supernovas before her, felt her body begin to sink like a lead balloon.

But this wasn't time for self pity. She stood straight and used her forearm to block the next punch before turning into his arm; back to his chest, she grabbed onto the arm she'd just spun into and pulled him over her shoulder, making sure to plant her foot firmly on his shoulder blade as he hit the ground and twisted until he let out a scream. Dropping the limp limb, she looked up at the fifth attacker. He was younger than the rest, clutching a silver aluminium bat with wide eyes. As soon as their gazes met he let out a squeak and dropped the bat, legging it out of the door.

"Good choice," Abigail murmured under her breath after him, delicately touching her midriff before she turned to face the last criminal.

He was the biggest, and the meanest looking. But the pleading and fearful look splayed clear across the cashier's face eliminated any idea Abigail may have had about just calling it a fight and walking away. She left her doubts in the broken chocolate bars thay she crushed underneath her boot. Abigail made her way back to the front of the isle until she stood opposite the gunman, and she could've sworn he'd doubled in size.

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't pick fights," the man growled at her.

Abigail raised an eyebrow, "Silly boys like you shouldn't make me have to."

He let out a bark of a laugh, grabbing the cashier by the scruff of his shirt and pushing him to the ground before he turned to face Abigail, gun raised as he slowly approached her. She tensed instantly, the muscles in her legs coiled tight, ready to spring forwards and attack. Her fists were clenched, her knuckles coated in a scarlet layer of blood. She had barely managed to patch up the knife wound on her arm at the first gas station she stopped at, fuck knows how she was going to fix these wounds.

But she waited. Like a snake in the grass, she waited until he was in range. Close enough to act quickly. He'd been talking as he came closer, not that Abby had been listening to a single word. Finally, he stepped into her grasp, and she flew forwards, grabbing onto the gun and bending his arm back, hearing another bullet let loose. She jabbed him in the throat and followed up by elbowing him in the face; she yanked the gun from his now frail grasp and threw this one behind her. The man recovered quickly, and landed his fist into her nose.

Since she had just injured his best hand, the fact that he used his less dominant one meant it hadn't hurt too much. She had been hit harder. Not that it mattered. It didn't stop her eyes watering up, clouding her vision enough for the man to land another punch, this time catching her cheekbones and forcing her down to the ground. Abigail hit the floor with a thud, all her bones and wounds screaming internally. He landed a kick to her already bruising stomach, sending her skidding backwards.

She felt nauseous, her stomach reeling. Her head wasn't much different. She felt dizzy. Abigail knew exactly what her aunt would do in this situation. Dinah would force her feet to stand, and she'd square up to this dick and let out such a scream that his body didn't stop until it broke through the back wall of the goddamn fucking shop. Abby couldn't do that. Using her powers to dismantle a gun was one thing, this would be another. She hadn't used them since the accident. She didn't trust herself to. No more casualties. But that didn't matter, Dinah Lance had taught her to be strong without her powers.

So she spat the blood in her mouth and stood up, forced herself to her feet and caught his swing, twisting his arm and not stopping until she heard it crack and when he tried to hit her with his other arm she held onto it. A sickening crack assaulted her ears as she smashed her forehead into his own nose. Blood splattered across her face, but it didn't stop her. She released the broken arm and twisted his other behind his back, grabbing the back of his head and using it to slam his face into the counter. His cheek pressed to the cold metal, Abigail leant in close until her lips brushed his ear.

"And for the record," Abigail hissed, her voice deadly and venomous and full of vice, "pretty girls like me don't pick fights. We win them."

She slammed his face into the desk brutally, letting his unconscious body collapse to the floor. Behind the desk, the terrified cashier slowly stood to her his feet, eyes wide and knees shaking, he began stuttering out thank you in between sobs.

Abigail plasterer on as convincing of a smile as she could muster, "Call the cops, get these morons arrested. You can thank me by burning the footage."

With that, she slammed a five dollar bill onto the counter from her pocket and slowly left the shop, picking up a bag of ice as she did to press to her bruising face. After a few minutes, a rumble filled the air and the woman vanished with the sound of her motorbike.

BY THE TIME SHE REACHED WASHINGTON, the sun had stretched its nimble fingers across the blue sky, illuminating the day. Pulling up outside the apartment block Hank Hall and Dawn Granger lived in, Abigail noticed the Porsche parked there. She slowly dismounted the bike, grunting and groaning as her injuries cried out in protest. Nevertheless, she persisted. She slung her bag over her aching shoulder and trudged towards the doors.

Inside, she didn't take long to find the lift. Hands grasping the railings so tight her knuckles turned the colour of bone, Abigail felt anxiety and worry begin to build up in her stomach, tying knots and knots. The knots turned to wolves, clawing away at her insides, feral and insatiable. The doors eventually dinged open and the brunette hesitantly stepped out into the homely corridor. Each mahogany door was embellished with a golden, three digit number, and at the end or the hallway was the room she was looking for. 304.

She stepped lightly across the checkered stone floors, passing vases of flowers and boxes of tissues as she did. Niceties places on the tables which added to the mood of the apartment, a cosy and warm atmosphere. Yellow lights hung from the ceilings and off the walls, casting a warm haze that only added to the one of the sun's glow. In another life, maybe she could've lived here. Close to friends. In  another life. She reached the door sooner than she would've liked, and found herself biting her already busted lip nervously, soon stopping when it twinged in pain.

Abigail lifted her hand, curling it into a fist poised to knock, when shouting erupted from the room. It sounded like two men, and she didn't think too much of it for a second. Then something went bang.

NOTE!
honestly abby has such a great dynamic with hank and dawn and i can't wait to write it bUt this chapter got too long — guess who we see next chapter tho ;)