SPARTAN

John Diggle // Spartan | 34 | Team Arrow I'm the only thing standing between you and an early grave.

[bcdygucrds]

John hadn’t been stateside in months, and he was tired to his bones. But family time came first, and his wife (who he loved dearly and deeply) has asked for a burger. So he was stuck in line at Big Belly Burger, feet and back aching, and eyes tired. And the guy in line in front of him couldn’t make up his mind about what to order. “All I wanted was a goddamn cheeseburger and a milkshake.” He complained to himself. “I swear, the next person who takes more than two minutes to order is getting a drone strike ordered against them.”

[themanbeneaththehood]

“You sounded pretty urgent on the phone. What’s going on?” This better be good. Oliver questioned with a nervous kink jolting through his fingers. He twirled his wedding band around his left finger; his own personal anchor to reality. 

[bcdygucrds]

Taking in the somber appearance and nervous attitude of the man standing before him, John felt almost bad for kicking up such a fuss. “I called you here for a very important mission, Oliver. It’s life or death, so I hope you’re up for it....” he trailed off, drawing out the dramatics as long as he could. “I need to know if you can babysit tonight. Lyla’s off on some secret mission she promised to tell me about when she’s stateside, and I got called in to deal with a system meltdown at ARGUS HQ, but there’s no one to watch the kids. Are you up for a night of complete normalcy?”

[bcdygucrds]

themanbeneaththehood‌:

Yin and Yang. 

That’s the guise that John and Oliver operated beneath. Two opposing forces coming together to maintain balance. John’s righteous valor often off-set Oliver’s carnal form of justice. Early on in their foundation, his methods were frowned upon by John who always believed in another way; maybe he just believe that Oliver was better than the murderous vigilante that he hid within. Here, in the middle of the bleakest of situations, John continued to be Oliver’s moral compass. To see John buckle with the selfishness, only warmed up the lifeless pieces of his soul. Brothers fought desperately to protect their own. He did it when John wouldn’t dare see past his own penance. Now, John was doing the same. “You don’t believe that. I know you and this isn’t you. It’s me.” Oliver grimaced at the damage that his imprisonment had done to his best friend. 

“I know that you can do it this without me but we’re no good without the other. I will always take a bullet for you and cover your six–if you’ll let me.” Oliver cooed. His expression cooled with the second wave of burning fatigue that nipped at his senses. “We’ve been through worse,” he mumbled. “This is a cake walk,” Oliver reached out to finally confirm that he wasn’t just indulging some delusion of grandeur. He squeezed his shoulder before allowing his hand to fall back into the space along his side. 

“We sweep this floor and push back till everyone’s clear. Round up the men and make your way to the control room. If this is a lockdown, there’s no signal going out. We need that up and running for some chance to get those men help.” Oliver cleared his throat. “Diaz is desperate. We both know he hoped that this place would kill me so he wouldn’t have too. He brought the fight here. All we need to do is secure the site and make sure he never leaves. I can’t save those people without you, John. You’re the hero of this story,” he mumbled. “I’m just finishing what started with me.”  

It wasn’t either of them. War torn and damaged by everything they’d seen, they were a little banged up, sure, but neither of them were broken enough to give in completely to that way of thinking. “We’re finding a way out of this.” John said, instead of arguing. Oliver never listened, anyway, so what was the point?

“I’m not letting you die for me.” He ordered, fear coursing through his veins like lightning. They were better together, that much was inarguable, but they were also vulnerable, wearing their hearts outside their bodies in a fight. John felt exposed, like a raw nerve, when he fought alongside Oliver, because he knew losing the other man could very well break him. “You cover my six--but you don’t do anything stupid to try and save me.” It’s a promise he knows Oliver can’t make, but for once he wants to be lied to.

It wasn’t anything close to a cakewalk, but they needed to believe that. They needed to feel like things were easy, if only so the crushing weight of what they were about to do wouldn’t envelop them completely. “I’ll take as many of them with me as i can, provided any of them are still left standing.” there was no guarantee of that, not now. “We’ll get the signal back up, but I need to know you have an exit strategy. A plan, of any kind. You’re my priority here.” he told Oliver honestly, because this would only work if they were completely transparent with one another.

“Okay. I hear you, loud and clear. Diaz leaves over our dead bodies,” He cracked a small grin at that, because fatalistic humor was sometimes the only thing that got them through. “I was never the hero of the story, Oliver. i was always just trying to live up to your legacy.”

[bcdygucrds]

With Oliver free, but recovering from his injuries, and Diggle needing to lay low after his impromptu prison break, it was key that they find someone on the outside to delegate their more official missions to. Lyla had given John the information he needed to track down a young agent who was moving up through the ranks, and it was with much trepidation that John tracked the man down. “Zachary Trainor?” He asked the younger man, stepping out of the alley behind Zach’s residence. “We need to talk.”

@secret-agent-moose

[aprilkepners-archive]

get to know me meme (1/25) male characters → john diggle (arrow) “Home is a battlefield. Back home, they’re all trying to get you. Get you to open up, be somebody you’re not sure you are anymore.”

[candykizzes24]

My boys looking spiffy! ❤ @oliverjqueen32 @johnddiggle #myfamily #myteam #myhusband #mybrotherfromanothermother #greenarrow #spartan https://www.instagram.com/p/B0wiJXfA_8W/?igshid=gifmjmgqs80s

[bcdygucrds]

themanbeneaththehood‌:

The desperation that hissed in his tone encumbered with such haste oddly soothed the burn left on Oliver’s skin. John hadn’t stopped fighting for his good name; nor had he up and abandoned him in the thick of it. Sure, they buttheads over Oliver’s resignation to his possible eternal imprisonment but John never lost faith in the system. Their system. In all of his brute and unwavering valor, John’s moral compass spun unrelentingly; just as his loyalty had. Oliver would never need to question who was in his corner when judgement day would impart its cruelty upon him. 

“I can’t leave them to die. We can’t do that, John. It’s not who we are.” Oliver relented. His soul had bared so many burdens from the lives he had directly taken. He had made a vow to stop adding to the violent reaping of lives. That included passively allowing nature to take it’s course on the unwilling and the premature. His hand tucked instinctively over his battered ribs that screamed in pain with every shortened breath. John wasn’t wrong about his chances at survival if he remained beneath the shackles of his establishment. 

“All we would need to do is clear a path to the morgue. Just beyond those double doors there’s a chute to the water below.” Oliver staggered closer to the doorway to peer out into the chaos. John’s metaphor sunk in but didn’t hold permanence in his decision to do what was right. Even if it were hard to do. “Believe me, I know I am dead weight but I’ve been in worse shape and have held my own. I had you by my side and I am asking you to trust me. You were always better than me, John. You know leaving them without a chance to get out is wrong. I can’t have any more lives on my shoulders.”

“Diaz wants me and that’s what he’ll get.”  

It was a fight they’d been having for years, though with the two of them on varying sides depending on the day. The one thing they could never seem to do? Agree on who needed to be saved at any given moment. John sighed, all tired and righteous frustration. Neither side would win if they didn’t find a way out of this soon.

“It could be who we are,” He tried weakly, but in his heart he knew the decision was already made. They were saving as many men as they could, damn the consequences. “Right.” He agreed, fists closing over the weapon he’d been given as part of his disguise. He hadn’t wanted to use it, but this was the path he’d chosen, and he was comfortable with where it had led him.

“I can do that. You don’t even need to be involved.” John suggested, but as surely as he’d known that Oliver would push the rescue mission, he knew Oliver wouldn’t give in and turn away, even if he was leaving things in John’s more than capable hands. “Damnit, you self sacrificing fool. You’re gonna get yourself killed doing this.” john griped, but he didn’t put up a front of resistance anymore. “Where exactly do I factor in to this plan of yours? If you’re giving yourself up to Diaz to create a distraction?”

[darkxcanarylance]

“Now I’ve done you three a serve by letting you in on Slabeside’s little secret. I could have easily allowed for Diaz to do what he would to you but he no longer served my interests,” she hissed. “All I ask for in return is to call the dogs off and get your little canary back on her leash before she get hurt.”

“A simple payment for my furthered silence. No one will question my testimony in favor of Oliver’s innocence in his retrial if you carter to my one whim—oh and want 80,000 dollars in cash.” 

mentioned: @holyxsmoak​ @bcdygucrds @themanbeneaththehood

[bcdygucrds]

John felt his jaw tighten, the muscle there straining from the tension. His rescue mission had been underplanned, yes, and he hadn’t had the time to calculate out all the details carefully enough, but he’d thought he’d been careful enough to avoid this. “So what, you’re going to hold this over our heads for the rest of our lives? You’re better than this, Laurel.” Dinah, he corrected himself, but it was too late to rectify the verbal error. Backtracking would be seen as a sign of weakness. “You know as well as we do that Diaz is a danger to everyone in this city, even you. You’re better off letting this go and helping us out here.”

There was a catch, because there was always a catch, and he would have been stupidly naive to believe otherwise. “That’s hardly one favor. Or a simple one. Where are we supposed to get 80,000 dollars from?”

[bcdygucrds]

themanbeneaththehood‌:

Oliver’s doubts encircled the logical recognition of the pure sultry tone that seeped between them. John Diggle wasn’t the kind of man who broke protocol unless it were blood. Sure, there’s may not have genetically matched but John was the closest thing Oliver ever had to a brother. Blinking away the insidious ringing that rattled the base of his skull with thundering confusion. If this were some emotional breakdown, the real guard would have gladly bashed his jaw with the blunt edge of their nightstick. Instead, the voice begged for him to follow with urgency. 

Get it together, Queen. 

His shuffling feet dared to dance in the crimson colored light that tainted the pallid tint of yellow from the high hats. Fatigue laden lids took in the solid figure. A man he had only drunk in from behind the glare of the glass wall that separated them. For a spilt second, he had forgotten about the ache that seeped into his sense. His mind foggy but sharpening with the wailing sirens. “John,” Oliver mumbled. He didn’t have the energy to scold him for endangering himself by coming here to break him out. Oliver never want to be a lawless fugitive for freedom; it wasn’t freedom for his family–but his desperate want to taste the salt from whipping wind off the ocean first hand pushed him forward.  “I can safely assume this isn’t some grand coincidence now.” 

Screams permeated through the walls and stilled his selfishness. “We can’t leave them here,” he gestured to the man’s choice of disguise. “Every guard in this building will die if we don’t do anything about it.”

“I can’t leave you here.” John told him fiercely, words kept low to avoid alerting anyone who might happen to pass by. He wasn’t someone who typically gave into selfish urges, but the life of someone he cared about was enough to make him act out of character. Oliver had risked to much putting himself here for John to let him get within fifty feet of another guard. It was too dangerous.

“Oliver, I’m serious. You will die if I don’t get you out of here now.” For once, he wished he were speaking to the old Ollie, the one with a selfish streak a mile wide and a desperation to save his own ass. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t, and Oliver wouldn’t. “I’m not risking your life for some men we don’t even know, not when they could have pledged their allegiance to Diaz. You are the priority here, got it? You’re in no state to fight.”

it was true, the gaunt too that haunted Oliver’s face was almost too much to look at, haggard as it was and purple from bruising and swelling. John wanted to look away, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “Do you really think you can help anybody right now, or can you understand the importance of helping yourself first? The airplane’s going down, Oliver, you have to put your oxygen mask on first.”

[bcdygucrds]

themanbeneaththehood‌:

Oliver’s fingers ghosted over the jagged stitch that warped across his side from his latest incident with Brick’s cohorts. The rule of law inside came down to one simple instruction: deal or be dealt with. Diaz’s irrevocable effect on his life left him here at a moral crossroad dealing with the constant balance between evils. Kill or be killed. Dying inside of here was no longer an option but Oliver refused to turn into the hideous creature that everyone made him out to be. Brick’s hefty demand for Peter Yorke’s removal toed the moral lines he had etched into the sand. Instead of ending his life, he ended his career. One shiv to the ribs was enough to seal the man’s fate at Slabeside. To top off Oliver’s suffering, one of the heavy handed guards rammed their knee into his ribs, filleting the first set of medical grade stitches. Hence his immediate transfer to the quasi-sterile infirmary. 

The only good that came out of being sent here was the insulated silence of stainless steel doors and grated windows. Peace.

With shallow breaths, he focused on the constant burn between each contraction of his diaphragm. Oliver survived worse pain but there was something so overwhelming tiring about such a trivial injury. Maybe he was just tired of fighting against the the tides that torn at his figure. Penance came in all forms. All ranging with some tamable side effect to maintain its victim in suspension. His pain was something he could physically live through; it didn’t matter if he could emotionally survive it. At least for tonight, he could fall out of consciousness without the bothersome burden of his dreams. 

He laid back into the cot, sinking deeper into his fatigue. Oliver’s laden lids overpowering his thoughts in releasing his haggard body from its rigid defiance. The shrill of distant screams and the thrashing sounds of scraping metal against concrete rippled through the corridor leading back to level two; the farthest wing in Slabeside for the reprehensible savages. Oliver shot up at the darkness that settled into the spaces where the pallid fluorescent once tainted in its ghoulish glow.  

Not again.

The scrape of the door slipped open probably left ajar by the hoards of inmates that would soon  flood the landing of his cell block. A frenzy of bodies clamored for a moment before fleeing into the rushing walls of guard with fury. Oliver popped up onto his feet to assess the situation, his knuckles battered from the last outbreak that only lasted twenty minutes. Twenty minutes that cost me three weeks in solitary confinement. His mind played tricks on him. A shadowed silhouette called to him with the familiar sound of his brother. John was probably laying up somewhere with his wife, as he should. Oliver eyes roughly adjusted to the stocky man dressed in the same fatigues that landed him in the infirmary. 

“I don’t want to fight you but whatever is happening out there is more important than me.” Oliver’s voice gruff with the lingering desperation. 

John, misunderstanding Oliver completely, took a step forward and squinted at him in confusion. The harsh lighting (if it could even be called lighting, with how dim it was) of the room throwing Oliver’s injuries into stark contrast with his pale skin. “Fight me? What, you think you’re gonna run out there and try to save everybody from whatever’s happening? I don’t think so. I worked too hard to get you here to let you just walk back out into their clutches.”

This was all going so poorly, so rushed, clearly a hack-job of a rescue attempt that Oliver himself would have been able to execute flawlessly, but John’s had neither the experience nor the patience with rescue missions that Oliver does. He sighs, trying to turn a deaf ear on the screams floating in through the door. “Oliver, come on. We need to go. We’ve only got a small window to escape, and I know your ribs have got to be hurting right now if my guy hit you as hard as I asked him too.” John gave a sort of apologetic shrug. “Sorry about that, by the way. I knew that nobody would believe you were actually injured if he pulled his attack, so he had to go all in.”

[supagirl]

john diggle appreciation 2/?

[bcdygucrds]

The call comes at three in the morning, inconvenient at best, devastating at worst when John’s woken from a very pleasant dream about a vacation in the Caribbean. He’d told his sources (Lyla’s sources, but he likes to think he still has connections despite his years away from the armed forces) to contact him with any suspicious information about Slabeside, and he doesn’t begrudge the call--but he does answer it with slightly less tact than he normally would have.

“This is Diggle.” He barks into the receiver, careful to keep his volume low so as not to wake Lyla. The voice croaking back at him is that of an old squad commander Lyla had known before they got back stateside. Daniels had saved both their lives more than a few times, and the favors between them were starting to rack up.

“John, we’ve got a problem. There’s--” It’s subtle, but the hesitation is easy enough to track when you know the person you’re talking to. “--The prison’s going on lockdown. Nothing in or out. I don’t know for certain, but I’ve got a hunch your guy’s to blame. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I don’t think it’ll be good for Oliver.”

John sighs, shifting slightly so he’s further away from Lyla. “When is the lockdown happening?”

Silence fills the receiver for a moment--a terrible sign. “We got the order an hour ago. I...I’m not sure if we’re going to be enough to stop whatever’s coming.” Daniels says, referring to the small number of guards John can be sure are actually on the side of good.

“You found out about this an hour ago and you’re just calling me now? Damnit, we’re losing time.” He’s being unfair to Daniels, and to the situation, but he’s tired, and the tiniest bit cranky, and very worried about Oliver. He sighs again. “I need you to get me in there. A visitor pass. A guards uniform. Whatever you have to do--I need to be on the inside of those walls by tomorrow.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The call ends with a click, leaving John with only the ever-growing weigh of his concerns. If Diaz is really messing with Slabeside, it’s for one reason only: The Emerald Archer himself. And while John had meant it when he’d promised to be the last thing standing between Oliver Queen and death, he hadn’t expected that moment to come quite so soon.

Their bond, their brotherhood, was strong enough to weather any storm, but death would be a brink they hadn’t crossed, a channel they hadn’t navigated. John, for one thing, didn’t really want to live in a world where Oliver didn’t exist anymore. He knew the rest of Oliver’s family felt the same way.

He turns to lay back down in bed and finds Lyla on her side, eyes wide and staring at him. He appreciates her quite presence, calming in a way he’d never found anything else. She waits for him to speak, to explain the situation, and although it takes him far too long to find the words, she’s there when he does.

“I have to do something dangerous tomorrow,” He starts, and she laughs.

“What, instead of the perfectly safe and normal nocturnal activities you usually get up to?” Her pretty mouth is quirked up into a grin, but he can still read the worry in her eyes.

“Lyla please.” John asks, practically begs, because if he’s going to have to say goodbye he wants to do it right. “I have to go help Oliver tomorrow, and I don’t know how it’s gonna go. But he’s in a real bad way, and I can’t leave him there. Diaz has locked down the prison.”

Lyla pulls him closer and wraps her arms around as much of him as she can. “We don’t say goodbye, John. That’s not who we are. So you go rescue your brother tomorrow, and then you come home for dinner, understand?“

It’s the only moment of softness she’ll allow him before she’s rolling away and pulling out her laptop, fingers clacking furiously over the keys before he can register that she’s moved.

“I’ll make a few calls and see if I can’t get Richard Smith transferred in a new night watchman.” She promised him, mouth stressing the syllables to the fake name he’d once used on a covert mission to break up a smuggling ring. It’s not his favorite alias, but it’s got the papers he needs to get him where he wants to go as fast as possible, and he needs the element of surprise on this one.

“Lyla if I wasn’t already married to you, I’d propose right now.” He promises her, and she gives him a wicked grin.

“Third time’s the charm.”

-

He enters Slabeside with relative ease for a building that’s supposedly on lockdown, and it’s suspicious. He’s on edge, waiting for someone to pop out of the shadows and rip off his helmet, but no such attacks come.

He begins to wonder if Diaz has sent the majority of the guards home, citing the lack of prisoner movement as a reason for sending them all away. John believes his reasoning lies closer to a desire to brutalize those in cells with as few bleeding hearts around as possible, but he’s biased.

The guard uniform Lyla and Daniels had procured is itchy, and far too tight around his shoulders, but he likes to think it adds to the intimidation factor of his silhouette. He’d told no one but his wife about this visit to the prison--a fear of who might have access to their phone lines keeping from informing anyone else who might be in danger from the information--but their combined skillset was more than enough to bypass a few security cameras and avoid some guards.

Oliver was being kept on the other side of the prison, the wing for serious offenders, and the thought hurt John to the core. Oliver, as a person, wasn’t violent. He wasn’t inherently build or bred for destruction, and John knew that he lost a piece of himself in every punch he threw. Oliver didn’t belong trapped in a wing with some of the most violent criminals Star City had to offer.

He’d asked Daniels to have Oliver taken to the med bay around nine PM, a luxury he was certain Diaz would attempt to deny, but there was no way around it. They needed him out of the cell for this plan to work.

The blow to the ribs was necessary, a cover so they could give him the signs and symptoms of internal bleeding. Diaz was petty, but he was also proud, and John was counting on him wanting to take his prize himself. Daniels had given the all clear over fifteen minutes ago, and it was down to John to locate, extract, and get Oliver to safety.

He counts the door numbers down, lower and lower and lower until.....finally. Footsteps as quiet as he can make them, but still too loud for the empty hallway he’s in, he steps up to the tiny window and whispers: “Ollie? Come on man, please be in there. I didn’t come all this way just to get the wrong room.”

@themanbeneaththehood

[loganxdavis]

Last night must have been really bad or… really good, depending on prospective. He groaned and leaned his head against the wall where he must have fallen asleep out. He normally knew when to stop drinking, but he was feeling particularly shitty. He blinked trying adjust to the light and called out groggily. “Hey-uh.” He grumbled. “Where am I?” Still trying to assess his situation.

[bcdygucrds]

“You’re passed out in an alley in Star City. I’m trying to figure out how badly you need medical attention.” John told him, looking up from his phone where he’d been texting Lyla his whereabouts. An unfortunate side-effect of the hero life was the frequent comings and goings from the lives of loved ones. “No obvious injuries, and, no offense man, but you smell like the floor of a seedy bar, so I’m inclined to believe you might be fine, other than what I’m assuming is a terrible hangover.”

[bcdygucrds]

whitecanary-lance‌:

Star City transformed from the once starry eyed cityscape to the bloodthirsty basin for power. Every inch of the city canvased with a new threat; splintering off into factions within the concrete confinements of the Glades. Cleaning up the mess Diaz made wouldn’t be easy but it was what she needed to do to help protect her family. Her chest tightened at the sorrow that littered John’s usually smoky tone. She never thought she’d hear such desperation in his voice. Breathing in the static filled message, she scaled down the drafty heights of her clocktower. 

If I were John Diggle, where would I be? 

Sara canvased outside of good ole Big Belly Burger. The bunker had gone silent since the jarring sirens of the Anti-Vigilante ban. JJ and Lyla were secure in an A.R.G.U.S safe house. John wasn’t going to leave Felicity unguarded but a man needed to ear. 

“You’re an easy man to track down,” Sara called from the shadowy perch beneath the canopy of leaves, her hands slipped into the silky pockets of her jacket. “You called and I came. I call that pretty damn good service, don’t you think?”  

He’d have jumped if he wasnt’ expecting her to show up right then, but it was Sara nd when hadn’t she come when he called. Family was still family after all, even when one of the had returned from the dead only to be whisked away to a space ship. “Only when i’m not hiding.” He gave her an apriaising look. “Or when i’m being tracked down by one of the worlds greatest assassins. Are you the greatest now? I don’t really keep up on Assassin Weekly.” He hoked. “You want a burger? I ordered extra.” Usually because Oliver underestimated how hungry he was, but Oliver wasn’t here and he was stll doing it. Habit, he supposed.

“It’s only goods erivce if you plan on sticking around to hear me out. And maybe lend a hand. I take it you’ve heard about Ollie?” He asked, stepping worfard and giiving her a hug to welcome her home.

[green-arrow-tv]

[bcdygucrds]

He wasn’t one to call Sara out of the blue. She had her own life and her own problems. But she was a part of their family whether she was in the city or off on a space-ship, and she deserved to know what was going on. He pulled out his phone and hit four on his speed-dial, trying not be amused at his own nostalgia for keeping her in there only below Lyla, Oliver, and Felicity. When the ringing finally stopped, he kept his message short. “Hey Sara. I know you’re off doing your own thing, and you know we support that choice. But things are really bad around here. Oliver’s locked up, Diaz is only getting more powerful, and the city’s falling apart. Your dad, he--he’s fine now, but he was involved in a dust-up with some mercs a few days ago. We could use your eyes on some of this stuff, if you have a minute. Call me.” He hung up the phone, hoping to hear back from her, but knowing it could be hours or even days before she landed in a time period with cell service.

@whitecanary-lance

[bcdygucrds]

dxrkcxnxrycry‌:

“You should reconsider your tone, Spartan.” Dinah words slipped through her teeth with an eerie sense of ease. “We wouldn’t want to alienate our relationships in such a public place.” Her hands gestured to the open concept of her office. She was still getting the hang of prosecuting law; she used to run from it. “What would they say? We used to be so tight. I get it, you’re in mourning, over Oliver. What a shame, right?”

She had the look down--the blonde hair, the pressed suits. Everything about the way she moved s c r e a m e d Laurel, so much so that he could sometimes forget who he was looking at. But the voice was all wrong. Even when she was playing the part, pretending to be the real Laurel on TV or in front of a jury, she could never make herself sound quite right. “There’s no tone, Siren, this is just how I talk to villains who work with our enemy and conspire to take down my city.” No matter what she was saying, acid hung in her words, living threads weaving their way around every syllable. He couldn’t forget what she could do with that voice if he tried. “I guess they’d just have to accept that everyone comes back changed from their crucible.” he said, but he kept his vacantly pleasant smile fixed on his face until they were securely in her office. “I know you think this is amusing, but it’s not. Oliver’s not dead, and he won’t be dying in prison any time soon. Not while I’m around.”