Finishing the Ninth Circle

Killer Frost panted, her breath misting in the frigid air she’d created. She’d been blasting and freezing Underground Men for what felt like forever, freeing prisoner after prisoner. But her energy was draining fast, and she knew it. Her shoulder and leg were already riddled with bullets.

The goons in front of her reloaded, their eyes cold and unfeeling behind their masks as they aimed their guns directly at her. She barely had enough juice left to throw up a proper shield.

"Really?" Frost muttered, throwing a tired glare. "Now you guys decide to go all in?"

Just as she braced herself, there was a flash, and Aaron appeared in front of her, calm as ever, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his bathrobe. He looked like he’d just strolled out of a spa, completely unfazed by the line of rifles trained on them.

The Underground Men fired. Frost flinched, but Aaron just lifted a hand lazily, and the bullets slowed midair and then looped right back.

Almost half of them were killed. The molten bullets could penetrate their measly vests the same way they did Killer Frost’s flesh. Seeing the burns on her, Aaron snapped a finger and a command. “Heal.”

Killer Frost exhaled, shoulders sagging in relief and wounds healing. “Motherfucker, you really know how to make an entrance.”

He shot her a smile. “Thought you could use a little backup.” His eyes flicked over her, from her ice-blue leotard that hugged every curve—showing off her toned legs, the sway of her hips, and that sharp confidence in her stance. Even exhausted, Killer Frost looked like she could bring down an empire.

Before she could retort, more shots came from behind the remaining Underground Men, but this time… arrows. One by one, the goons dropped as arrows struck true. They turned and the Underground Men faced one of their own. The Dark Archer nocked back several trick arrows that splintered into twenty more.

The Underground Men were momentarily stunned and with that came their deaths. All of them, swiftly cleaned up by a deadly archer. Aaron was right to get him on his side. He would be useful.

Killer Frost blinked, her brows shooting up. “Merlyn? Since when are you on our side?”

Merlyn didn’t miss a beat. “I serve the Chosen One now.” His voice was cool, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He inclined his head toward Aaron.

Killer Frost’s eyebrow went up as she looked back at Aaron, clearly amused. “The ‘Chosen One,’ huh? So you’re like… royalty now or something?”

Aaron just shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he kept his hands firmly in his robe pockets. “I don’t make the titles.”

Frost rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Okay, ‘Chosen One.’ Just don’t get too full of yourself.”

“Well, aren’t we a sight,” she added with a grin, nodding to Merlyn who took his place beside Aaron, loyal and sharp-eyed. She folded her arms. “Now, what's next? We kick Dante's ass?”

Aaron extended a hand. “Here.”

“...am I supposed to hold your hand?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I'm confused. What are we talking about here?”

Right. Telepathy and no hypnosis sometimes made him get ahead of himself. “You should work for me the same way Malcolm does. You can do real good work.”

“Ha?”

“You want to change and do good things. I can see that. The police won't though. They'll lock you up for a while until they think you're rehabilitated. I don't want that time wasted for you. I want you on my side.”

“Is this a confession? I'm not sure I like it.”

He gave her a look. Killer Frost sighed and put a hand to her face. She was thinking.

“You have teleportation and magic and yet you hid it from Black Canary…you're hiding something.” Killer Frost squinted suspiciously then threw up a shrug. “And you're also right. Tell me one thing, are you a superhero or secret organization or what? Do I have to put on a collar that will blow up my head?”

“This isn't the Suicide Squad.”

“Hey, I didn't know that. Good to know now.” Killer Frost finally took his hand. “Where am I going?”

“My house. It's in Gotham.”

“Gotham!? Oh hell no—”

Blip! She was gone. Aaron chuckled. He turned to Merlyn Malcolm and extended the same hand. “And you?”

“You do not need me here?”

“No. I read your mind, I know where to go. As for Canary and Arrow, I'll just say that you and Frost took each other out and I managed to slip out.”

“You still wish to hide yourself?”

“The less the Justice League knows, the better.”

“Understood.” He took Aaron's hand. “Will I be going to Gotham as well?”

“No, you're going to Lazarus Island. It's the hub of the League of Shadows and Assassins. My house down in Gotham is for....other purposes.”

The Dark Archer nodded and disappeared off to Lazarus Island.

That left Aaron alone with a pile of corpses and a base that was yet to be completely explored. Aaron's eyes flickered yellow.

The Speed **** kicked in. Time to go fast. Aaron sped through the Ninth Circle’s winding corridors, coming to a halt in a grand chamber where an enormous, ancient-looking statue loomed over him. It was intricately carved—an imposing figure of a horned demon with wings, its stone claws clutching a terrified mortal beneath it. Clearly, it was an ominous choice in décor, but what caught Aaron’s eye was the base. The statue had been moved, revealing a hidden elevator, like some secret gateway to Hell.

“So this is it.”

The elevator looked sleek but oddly personalized. Aaron looked down, noticing a perfectly carved hole in the floor. He could guess why—

“Please verify identity.”

That was the elevator. An advanced AI scanned a person to make sure they were worthy of coming down.

“Please verify identity,” the elevator’s AI repeated. A fingerprint scanner awaited.

Oliver and Dinah probably couldn't verify and go down and so had to do it the old fashioned way. Aaron was different. “Ytitnedi ym yfirev.”

Aaron simply waited. The system scanned him, and the elevator began its descent, as if recognizing that he was now in control here. Down it went, silently gliding deeper and deeper, until it came to a smooth stop.

The doors slid open, revealing a cavernous room filled with rows of supercomputers, their screens flickering with endless streams of data. The hum of the machinery filled the air, but beyond that, Aaron heard the unmistakable sounds of battle.

He bolted forward, skidding to a stop in a control area. At the center, a massive monitor loomed, and beside it, on a pedestal, rested a gleaming Motherbox—a device of immense power. But he barely had time to take it in because just a few feet ahead, Green Arrow and Black Canary were in the thick of a brutal fight.

Their opponent: Dante, the mastermind of the Ninth Circle. He wore a crisp red suit, his face twisted in a permanent rictus grin beneath scarred, burned flesh.

Green Arrow, weaponless, was swinging hard but barely keeping up. He dodged left, then right, landing a punch here, a kick there, but it was like hitting a brick wall. Dante hardly flinched, his grin widening as he absorbed the blows like they were nothing.

Canary darted in from the side, unleashing a perfectly timed kick to Dante’s torso, but he barely staggered. Instead, he grabbed her leg, twisting it just enough to make her wince before tossing her back with frightening ease. She rolled with the impact, bouncing up almost instantly, but Aaron could see she was winded.

Dante lunged at Oliver, who was barely able to duck in time. The demon’s fist shattered the monitor behind them, sending sparks flying. Oliver scrambled back, desperately looking around for any kind of weapon, but there was nothing. He raised his fists again, his expression tense but unwavering.

Dante didn’t give him a second to think. He surged forward, his movements almost graceful as he struck with precision, his fists landing like sledgehammers. Oliver managed to block one, then another, but the sheer **** was wearing him down. A brutal uppercut sent him sprawling back against a console.

Dinah sprang into action, letting out a ferocious Canary Cry that reverberated through the chamber. The sonic blast slammed into Dante, who actually slid back a few feet, his grin twisting into something darker, almost impressed. But he didn’t falter. Dante closed the distance and swept Dinah’s legs out from under her.

Green Arrow staggered to his feet, looking battered but refusing to quit. “Hey, you twisted piece shit,” he panted, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. “Over here.”

Dante placed a foot on Black Canary's stomach. He did not listen.

‘Now's my time to interfere.’

Dante raised his leg, about to deliver a final, crushing kick to her stomach. Oliver screamed and ran at him. He wasn't fast enough. Aaron created a sleek, custom bow, the same kind that he saw Malcolm wielding, and gave it a quick toss across the room. “Hey!”

Oliver snapped his head over as did Dante. The bow sailed in a perfect arc, landing right in Oliver’s outstretched hands. The arrows were already stuck in place.

Dinah took the moment’s distraction to roll to the side and jump away, catching her breath and repositioning herself.

“Oh, now we’re talking…” Green Arrow muttered, nocking an arrow and pulling it back in one swift, practiced motion. He locked eyes with Dante, who had paused, that twisted grin somehow stretching even wider.

With a sharp twang, the first arrow flew—aimed straight at Dante’s head. But the demon was fast; he tilted his head, the arrow grazing his cheek and embedding into the wall behind him. He sneered, clearly unbothered.

“Missed me,” he seemed to say with that cold grin.

“Did?”

Bang! From the back of that lodged arrow came another arrow that struck Dante in the shoulder.

Oliver was already moving and grinning, rolling forward as he fired off another arrow, this one hitting Dante’s other shoulder. Dante staggered, eyes narrowing as he yanked the first arrow out, but Oliver didn’t stop. Another arrow shot straight for Dante’s thigh, followed by another to his chest, each one slowing the demon down bit by bit.

Dinah, not about to let Oliver hog the spotlight, leapt in with a spinning kick to Dante’s injured leg, her boot slamming into the arrow still lodged there. Dante snarled silently, his balance wavering as he tried to swipe at her. She ducked and came back up with an elbow to his jaw, her own smirk flashing.

Oliver took advantage of Dante’s stumble, firing an arrow that pierced right through Dante’s hand, pinning it to the console behind him. Now immobilized, Dante struggled, but the damage was done. Arrow after arrow followed, each one precise, pinning Dante in place like some twisted art piece.

Black Canary walked up to the pinned man. The demon’s grin faltered, his eyes flickering with something close to fear—or rage—as Black Canary gave him a nasty bare knuckle punch. Dante slumped forward, defeated.

Oliver let out a deep breath, his stance relaxing as he lowered the bow. He glanced at Dinah, offering her a tired but triumphant smile.

“Now that's teamwork,” Oliver said, and his to-be-wife smirked back, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

They both looked to Aaron and flashed smiles and waves. Oliver praised him first. “Good going, man.”

“You did all the heavy lifting," Aaron replied kindly.

“Not count yourself out. This bow is Malcolm's.” Green Arrow inspected the dark bow. “Did you best him?”

“It was Killer Frost."

“Killer Frost? What? Why? How'd you get it from her?"

Black Canary laughed and put a hand on her fiancé's shoulder. “It's a long, long story.”

But for now? Victory was sweet, and Dante? Dante and the Ninth Circle were done.