Arrow
True Face: The Beautiful Crime
The Beginning…
In each of us there lives a side that hides. Our shadow selves.
Figuratively, we all have masks. And we're forced to wear them; whether they're different shades, shapes or sizes we all have them to varying degrees. The face we let other people see and the face we keep to ourselves, the part of us that surface's when we're alone. Shrouded in dark, abandoned in the light. It doesn't matter. It's the part that we entrust only to ourselves.
Sometimes, when we're brave enough, we let others see the real us.
Our true face.
But there are times… there are people whose real 'self' is so opposing to the face they share that they can't possibly reveal even a glimpse of their inner nature to the world, to their family and friends.
Because it would scare them. Confuse them. Ultimately drive them off. They would feel betrayed. A skewed perspective to say the least.
And a prime example of equitability in an unjust world.
Where the familiar becomes the unrecognizable. Then we learn that this hidden facet of our souls could only ever exist in a harsh world. By god, do we learn, that that world already exists. And that what is 'acceptable' is only measured in terms of a majority opinion.
There are some masks that don't even know they are being worn. And there are some masks that are misunderstood even by their owners, just as there some faces that are the real truth and not the thinly cloaked, socially acceptable veil. A disguise disguised: a manipulation.
But how do we tell which is the 'real'?
MIT, University Campus, 2007
Felicity Smoak wasn't a hopeless dreamer: she'd never allow herself to become one. She knew that she was a mass of contradictions, weighing both positive and negative, and she didn't know just who or what she was.
It seemed she was always running from something. Abandonment of herself and her mother by her father. Her never failing ability to rouse unending arguments against said mother, on a daily basis – so much so in fact that she fled her home at the earliest opportunity; running to an organised training facility north of Vegas. She had been just 15 years of age. Little more than two years later, for reasons better left untold (for now) she ran towards her new homeland: MIT.
Now at plus 18, with a degree and the sweet promise of a Master's under her belt in the next eighteen months she still didn't know who Felicity Smoak truly was. Her current face? A Goth girl with purple streaks in her currently black hair.
In her head and in her heart she knew she'd alter again… and again… before finding her niche. Her place in the world. This was another phase, one in which she allowed herself to drown in, to become this new Felicity Smoak. It got her a boyfriend who she loved dearly and completely. It gave her a sense of direction. It allowed her to access other areas of her moral compass when her wisdom and knowledge of the world, which was slowly lacking, came up too short and too tightly bound to allow her move freely.
It allowed her ignore the whispers in her head, the chains of the unfulfilled, the unacknowledged. The wasted and terrified.
She thinks she's happy here. And she is. She will be. For a while at least before the storm comes in, chasing her away to some new unknown. Our ghosts follow us everywhere. She's slowly becoming an expert.
Starling City, Queen's Dock 2007
Sauntering down the long boardwalk towards the 'Queen's Gambit', his father's prized yacht, it took Oliver Queen a moment before he faltered, coming up short. There, stood at the end of the dock with his dad was his mom. Ah.
Shit.
Pressing his lips together with a grimace, just knowing what her reaction would be to seeing him there, he watched as what was definitely displeasure spread across her features at her husband's future leave of absence. Whatever they were discussing neither adult was backing down. As always.
He winced. The mental picture of the face he knows she'll pull when she finds out that he will also be leaving with his dad didn't make it any better. He'd hoped to hop on board without anyone but his father noticing as his companion sneaked around back. But it couldn't be helped. He really needed an escape option.
You see…
…Life could be so sweet.
If you were young, beyond rich and eligible, handsome, with a winning-charming smile and a modicum of cunning, the world could be your oyster. And Oliver was very much a 'live for the moment kind of guy': the type who takes part in all that feels good; screw the consequences!
Despite knowing that he was all these incredible things and could be so much more, in time, because he was still quite young and had his whole life ahead of him, he also knew, deep down, way deep down… that he was God's answer to 'worthless'. It was a small voice in his psyche that he kept quite quiet and smothered with his egoism.
He had everything he could ever want but didn't know what to do with any of it.
So he played. And why not, eh? The endless amount of money sent to his bank account, his trust fund and credit cards, per day, was enough to give every member of a working class family angina. So he squandered it, tossed it about, threw it into parties, girls, four different colleges and frivolous, nefarious activities that could have, should have, ended with his ass hauled into a jail cell (but didn't-his father's endless pockets came in handy from time to time).
Being the son of Robert Queen, the CEO of the multi-million dollar conglomerate, Queen Enterprises, definitely had its advantages. And he had skills that he was quite proud of. He knew he was appealing; handsome, sexy even, at least according to the scores of women he'd wooed and royally screwed. He was an adept engineer, good with his hands – that's what she said - and half decent navigator… so accompanying his father on a cruise seemed like the obvious choice right?
Except it wasn't.
He was running. Away from Laurel.
From Laurel and her 'expectations', the ones regarding their relationship, the ones outlining his commitments to the letter because that's what couples in love did for one another. They made promises, a word that inevitably made his insides tense and writhe. They moved in with each other. They tried to build a life with the other…
Hell no.
It may have scared him to death but it was the feeling of being slowly trapped that had him moving towards freedom. He was nowhere near ready for any of that. He didn't want it.
Of course not. Why would anyone want that kind of responsibility, that kind of weight, right? His recent scare, with a girl he figured he'd never see again in this life, just hit the nail home for him that settling down with laurel Lance now was a bad idea. Full stop. She wasn't the first girl he'd fooled around with since he'd shacked up with laurel but there was a difference between harmless pleasure and 'BABY'.
He wanted to 'play', to live, to have some fun before his dutiful ascendance towards the head of the family business. It's what his father had in store for him: another decorative trapping. His father saw him becoming a greater businessman than Robert himself already was. How would that even be possible? It was laughable to Oliver. Laurel wanted to start all that yesterday.
He was only 22 years old; it seemed pretty much logical to him to want to go for a cruise as a way to deflect responsibility. I mean, why not, right? What was the point in being responsible?
So, seeing Laurel's younger sister, Sara, and her obvious infatuation just forced the nail home for him. He wasn't ready, nor was he straight laced like Laurel. But Sara… like so many other girls he'd known, Sara more than up for a little joy riding, for breaking the rules one stepping stone at a time. She'd tried drugs, been there, done that and probably following his party habits and exploits to a 'T' which absolutely helped his ego trip. Drinking and fast driving were far behind both of them. Even the more kinky and racy aspects to sexual play could never be explored with Laurel. But Sara had more than made it obvious how very okay she could be with that. So knowingly betraying her sister to cheat with Oliver Queen, her obvious crush? It wouldn't take much at all. And he wouldn't deny how he'd often wondered how it would be with the girl. Sara looked at him in a way that Laurel never had. With Laurel there was love and indulgent affection in her eyes but there was also expectation and for the past few months he'd been greeted with a flash of those future dreams of hers just visible in her brown orbs. Dreams with him and the white picket fence deal. Sara stared at him with pure lust and adoration for the man he was. A sure 'take me; I'm yours'. As it stood, she viewed him as pretty close to perfect.
Well, who says I'm not?
He knew she'd already realised that a long term relationship was never in the cards. They'd fooling around for a few weeks now but they'd never once talked about the future, thank God. This cruise was all about fishing. To explore and see if they each fit together. And if not? Hey, a good time was a good time. What happens on the cruise stays on the cruise.
Starling City Airport, 2007
Returning home hadn't been with fanfare or with fireworks, with tears or with kisses…
It had been to the smug grin on his kid brother's face.
Great.
"You look like crap." Andy Diggle's first words, ladies and gentlemen, said to John after over a year of him being incommunicado in Afghanistan.
Giving him the usual acerbic look, his face tightening with mock consternation, John Diggle shook his head, his brown eyes trained on his duplicates. "Thanks for that. Good to see you too."
"Mm hm. Got you a job." Was the immediate reply and John's eyebrows raised to his hairline - which albeit was barely existent. "Now that you're state side I know that lazing about isn't your strong suit."
A nod. "No it is not."
"Couldn't tempt you to a few weeks of procrastination?" Andy offered after a moment's pause.
He shook his head. "No. I need something to take my mind of things."
"…Right." John heard his brother sigh as he bent to pick up his bag. On turning he was rewarded to his arms being filled with little brother's littler form.
"Welcome back bro."
John let out a breath. "Thanks man." They let go of each other. "Anything happen while I was away?"
"Not much." Together they moved for the gates and when they got past the ticket barrier Andy spoke again, this time without breaking. "Since Queen's Industrial Shipping Factory closed down there's been a wave of unsolicited vandalism in the Glades, China's influence in regards to black market trade has increased and Carly has forbidden herself extracurricular activities at night until the crime rate drops again."
A frown dampened the light in John's face. "It's that serious."
But Andy didn't sound so concerned about it. "Nah, it'll blow over. Some other rich big-wig will open some other employment filled factory or store in the Glades and it'll all be over. Plus the cops are all over it."
"You sure? The Glades were already taking a turn for the worst before I left."
A noise filled with derision sounded out from his left. "I'd say it's impossible for it to get any worse."
Oh but it could. It really could. And it would.
It does.
Starling City, Queen's Dock, 2007
When Laurel Lance dreamed, she dreamed BIG.
Her dreams absolutely and always included two things: her future career and her future husband. The first, because in order of priorities it was the chief concern in her agenda, in her list of 'to do's' and it was still up for grabs. It wasn't that she was insecure; she would be a lawyer, she knew this. But what type of lawyer and in what firm, in which country was still up for debate. Nor was she insecure about her feelings for Ollie Queen.
The love of her life.
For she did love him. There wasn't a day where she didn't wonder about him, were she didn't fantasize about their possibilities, were she didn't picture them both in their expensive Armani or Dolce or Freeman or Klein suits as he ran his father's company and she stood at the head of the DA syndicate where her father would look at her with more pride than ever. No, she wasn't ashamed to admit that this picture pulled at her heart strings: ten years down the line, both of them career people, happily married, and absolutely no children, at least not for the foreseeable future…
Just as she wasn't ashamed to admit that she also loved the man who he is now. Each state of self was a phase; they would eventually pass, clearing the way free for the stronger sense of self. The player that he was, this billionaire exhibitionist – literal in every sense of the term – and all around bad boy that did things for her body and mind that she would never speak of in public, wouldn't last. It was temporary.
The proof? Ollie leaving with his father on the Queen's Gambit for a business trip to China was evidence that he was starting to think more responsibly about his future and she couldn't be more proud of him. Of them.
And they would soon be moving in together.
It shouldn't take them long at all: with her contacts and his money it would be a breeze finding an apartment. A place where they could come home to as they worked steadily up the corporate ladder.
Being with Oliver made all those cheesy love songs make sense. It was a dream.
For this she could ignore her sister's crazy crush on her boyfriend. Future Fiancé. Sara just didn't understand romance, or love, or passion. She'd known about the infatuation for years: Sara had been besotted with Ollie from day 1, since she was fourteen and he sixteen. Now, at just twenty? Sara wasn't oblivious to the world: in many ways she lived a little too much for Laurel's taste so, no, she wasn't ignorant. But she was naive.
Sara thought that Ollie could be swayed with a flutter of her lashes and a flirtatious grin. Underneath the persona her boyfriend always gave off, Laurel knew that Ollie was a man of deeper waters. That's why he'd chosen her after all. Like minded and all that.
And Sara would just never understand that.
Her younger sister had never gotten over that one night, when she'd snuck out to Ollie's party. Laurel had been there too: for once not caught up in her studies. She'd thought nothing of it… until she'd seen Sara practically throw herself at Ollie, with a shot in one hand and a lust filled gaze and had immediately told her dad. This was before she and Ollie had started dating. Admittedly she'd be anxious. Knowing Sara's promiscuous ways, she hadn't wanted anything to happen between her and Ollie that would only leave Sara broken hearted the next day. Even if that was just what she told herself. That it was a total coincidence that she and Ollie had ended up dating during Sara's grounding, the worst her dad had ever given her.
Ollie wasn't meant for Sara. And one day Sara would meet the man who was meant for her; a strong, kind man who would love her despite everything - Laurel wholeheartedly believed this. Her perceptiveness rarely ran her astray.
Standing on the docks she glimpsed Ollie now, coming towards her.
He smirked and waved at her and everything inside her chest turned to goo. He was talking to someone on the phone, probably Tommy, voice too low to hear but Laurel could only concentrate on making sure he remembered her during his time away. When he came back she'd demonstrate all the ways she missed him before showing him the tiny puppy she wanted to adopt.
It was a ridiculously cute picture, the image of him walking a dog with her.
Just as the idea of giving him her photo was sickeningly cute, making her question her choice, but she'd seen couples do this in the movies. War heroes and soldiers leaving home with their girls gifting them with mementoes. It was hopelessly romantic and she couldn't get enough of that stuff. Pearl harbour was one of her all-time favourite movies.
Starling City, Queen's Dock, 2007
Part of Sara couldn't believe she was about to do this.
But she was in love and she had to do what she felt was right. Her mother had understood this.
Huddled in the shaft between the Queen's warehouse and an old tuck shop, feeling high as a kite and giddy she waited for the all clear from Ollie.
Who was currently dealing with Laurel. Her sister.
It should bother more, knowing what she was about to do, what she'd already pictured. Cheating with Ollie, though technically Sara had no one to cheat on.
Ollie's character wasn't heroic or gallant. He was a player, a cheater and sexy as hell. And Sara knew that he should be the last person she fell for. But she had anyway. She'd fallen for his smirk, which could be sweet when he relaxed, for his pretty blue eyes just a touch lighter than her own and for how they sharpened when he was thinking about her naked, for his fair hair which gave him the look of a surfer… a surfer, god, so sexy with his athletes body… that she very much appreciated and for his stamina… mhmm …something she couldn't ignore. She knew that she, herself, was just as disreputable as he. They were perfect for each other right? They could understand the darker side of each other. Guys liked naughty and nice.
But then Laurel had sunk her nails into him first.
Her sister had known, she'd seen it in her face that night before her first week of college, when she'd called their dad on her and had gotten her grounded. Grounded for so long that by the time she'd been released from what felt like captivity Laurel and Ollie were officially a 'thing'. And Laurel hadn't had the decency to tell her to her face; Sara had found out through friends who now pitied her for fancying the college bad boy who had definitely screwed her sister by then. He fucked girls, he didn't wait for them.
But she'd wanted that. She'd wanted the sex and the sensual haze of drugs and him and parties and want want want…
Eventually she'd tried to forgive and forget. Going off to college had been a way to do that. But a party she'd gone to just a couple of months ago had totally torn that asunder. He'd been there. Ollie Queen, taking shot after shot as he stood there flirting with every girl he chose. Flirting with her after he'd seen her and made a beeline to where she was dancing.
He'd wanted me.
And all those feelings she hadn't buried burned strong in her young heart. This wasn't just a crush; she was head over heels in love. She'd fallen helplessly with every touch, every chuckle, every delicious swirl of his hips, with every text and breath… she was all in.
As a last ditch attempt to save whatever morality she possessed about her fidelity, she'd tried to talk to Laurel about his reputation for sleeping around but as usual she'd had her words twisted against her, her sister simply thinking she was deliberately being a bitch instead of warning her about the things she'd seen in her partner. The same things she saw in the mirror daily.
The truth? Sara knew Ollie loved Laurel. Sure, he slept around… but Laurel was always the one he returned home to, which told Sara a thing or two about him. Laurel was a dream and Ollie didn't know what he wanted. In many ways he was still too young to know. He was under pressure at all sides: his family in regards to the family business and his education, from Laurel who wanted everything from him but didn't try to see past the image he constantly showed her, from Tommy who was never without his wing man…
Sara didn't want anything from him. Well she did. She wanted his attention. And his time. To show him that there may be alternatives for him, other than Laurel, where he didn't have to try to build a future, where his education and status meant little, where he could just be… Ollie. The rich, bad boy heir with a like for drugs and alcohol and a tendency for slacking off.
But Ollie was also very smart. She could have listened to him talk economics and whatever all day. He was talented and gifted and perfect for her. In time he'd grow into whatever he was supposed to become and maybe he'd grow in to her too. They could do it together. They didn't need to be better people. He already was better. He was Ollie. Mine.
And if Laurel ever found out about this…
Her dad would royally kill her. But then maybe Laurel would learn that trying to force something to happen sometimes had the opposing effect. She should have just left Ollie alone. For Sara. It wasn't as if she wanted to hurt Laurel… but she'd been hurt first by her older sister. Weren't older sisters supposed to protect and nourish their siblings? She knew that this boat trip would have always happened one way or another. Laurel had just stopped it from being a romantic one, with Sara as the girlfriend instead, rather than the 'fun time in China'. But who knew what could happen? In just a few short weeks Ollie could easily have a change of heart. There were things Sara could do better than Laurel that Ollie would find out about.
…What Sara didn't realise was that even now, 'Ollie' was already a façade. And that she too was still too young to understand that or appreciate its consequences.
Avant Garde Hotel, 2007
Tommy Merlyn…
Currently had a girl between his legs.
Thoughts of Oliver leaving were the last thing on his mind, knowing full well that when Ollie returned it would be business as usual. They'd both separated for weeks at a time before and though he'd initially told Ollie that yachts suck and he'd be beyond bored, he was getting over it pretty quickly.
To the petit brunette whose head was bobbing slowly up and down on his lap… the previous night, all he'd had to do was tell her his name. That's all it had taken. Well, that, and the promise of being America's next top model. A promise he had no plans fulfilling. Ever. Keep dreaming sweetheart. He just wanted to get off. Well Ollie had Laurel to get off with… and that other girl, name beginning with an S. And Natalie. Janine, Max Fuller's wife. Tina…
He smiled. Tina. He missed Tina; she was into group play. And she was a stunner. Not a great dancer but she could do things with her tongue that drove every memory in his head deep down into the same gutter in which he drank his life away.
Licking his lips he felt the tell-tale tingling through his testicles. His toes curled and he let out a deep sigh as the girl – he doesn't remember her name and doesn't care to – moaned. The sound reverberated to deeper muscles in his crotch, furthering him on when she moved faster. Sucked harder. Deeper. Teeth scraping up-
That's right. He thought. Hips gyrating into her warm mouth as he spilled over. You want this. All the girls love Tommy Merlyn.
Being a billionaire was sweet.
Starling City, Queen's Dock 2007
Robert had explained to her. Many times.
Each lapse in judgement, every moment of weakness he'd confessed to. And each time she'd forgiven him. Even his affairs - some of which she'd known about beforehand, some she hadn't – she'd accepted and moved forwards. Maybe it wasn't healthy, or normal and it made her question her importance to him. Many would wonder, if they knew, why she'd stayed with such a man.
Of course most married couples weren't like Robert and Moira. Two very different yet surprisingly similar people who could and did lie readily, who glossed over the details of their own nefarious deeds – there were several - and turned a blind eye to their partners transgressions, though Robert was more culpable in this than she. They used their wealth and status to manipulate their own lives disregarding the impact it could and would have on others. Robert had affairs. Several of them in fact, spread out over the years. He'd admitted to most and Moira understood. Sometimes he needed it. Sometimes she wasn't enough.
However she knew he loved her dearly. He always came back to her. Yet there had to be more than love in a marriage for it to last. So they'd managed a routine of sorts. Some couples were rewarded with unconditional love and affection, others had the love die quicker than it started. At least she had his love. Moira had resigned herself to this, had grown accustomed to it. Comfortable. Besides, he wasn't the only one to have lapsed and to have wandered into another's arms.
But he'd sinned a sin so much greater than she'd ever anticipated.
Robert had killed a councilman. Technically it was manslaughter but the crime would never make it to the light to be solved. He had gotten rid of all evidence and if he hadn't, Moira would have.
It had been years ago and the man had tried to blackmail him. They'd gotten into a heated argument that ended in violence. And instead of coming to her, Robert Queen had turned to his friend Malcolm Merlyn. Together they'd started Tempest: the secret organisation with only one goal in mind. To change Starling City for the better.
The conversation between them just a few days before had chilled Moira. To hear that the group she'd joined had started in such a way made her blood run cold. Made her question things. In many ways it was all a lie. But the worse part of it was that she was beginning to see that in dealing with the criminally wealthy and using them to make everything Tempest wanted possible, they had all tainted themselves.
She reassured herself that it was all for the greater good.
Waving now to the boat that held her son and husband, Moira watched them depart into the distance. She'd attempted to convince both Oliver and Robert that it wasn't the best idea right now for her son to be gallivanting across the ocean. He had his studies (there were always other colleges willing to accept more funding for a new science lab or football stadium) and Laurel to think about. But maybe this was a good idea: for Oliver to learn more about the family business. It was nice, she had to admit, to see him, eager to take on even a small mantle of responsibility. So whilst she didn't approve of the idea, there were worst things.
It seemed more than one person was wearing rose coloured glasses today.
Turning away to walk towards her Limo she found her driver already seated and waiting. She had a meeting to attend with Malcom in the morning, one he'd called suddenly and asked as one friend to another for it to be just between them. It wasn't very unusual. They were all old friends after all. But couldn't he have just spoken to her today before Robert set sail? She'd been feeling uneasy about their liaison and friendship since Robert had confessed his darkest sin to her.
However she had a few hours of indulgent shopping with her 12 year old daughter to think about this afternoon. The meeting with Malcolm could wait further analysis.
The Moment…
I'm sorry.
You see like most stories involving tales of heroic upsurge, the ordinary would first have to fall.
Ollie Queen has to fall.
And in many ways he never got back up. Never rose from the tide. He disappeared beneath the surface and just… didn't rise. Couldn't. Not 'Ollie'. 'Ollie' died one day in 2007.
But he wasn't alone in descending. And there are many forms.
Here's a taste…
The Waters of Lian Yu, 2009
What makes a man… good?
Is it his choices? His skills? Is it his emotions or the words he uses? Maybe it is the way he reacts, or doesn't react or maybe the way he loves and the way he loses.
If any of this was the case… then Oliver Queen believed he had failed. He had failed before he realised he'd even had to try.
Two years. It had been two years. He'd almost forgotten.
Almost.
Just let me die.
This was hell.
Hell refuse to let him lie down here and just…leave. To leave this life, a life he no longer understood. To leave his body, a body so different now from the one who'd pecked his mother on the cheek, giving her that cocky smile, like the idiot he was, as he loaded his only bag onto the deck of the Queen's Gambit, thoughts occupied by the blonde waiting for him inside.
Only those worthy deserved reprieve from perpetual sorrow and agony.
If he could smile the mockery of it would kill him.
The island was a living nightmare. Piece by piece it had stolen everything bright and free, anything innocent that was once left of the boy who became shipwrecked two years ago. But what would be the point of remembering someone who'd wasted his life before, who'd taken for granted everything that mattered?
Now he floats lifelessly in the ocean by the rocks of the islands surrounding Lian Yu. Barely conscious. Memories fleeting and thoughts running wild as the water licked his wounds.
…It was so still, this place. An atmosphere hung over it, at times almost supernatural, at others, lonely. Most times it was forbidding. Frightening.
He'd gotten used to it.
Now… it suited him.
A place where he could be as cruel, as merciless, as unflattering and as morally reprehensible as possible. No one would judge him. He could hide here and die without facing what he had become.
As if it lived and breathed the soul of Lian Yu demanded acquiescence. It demanded strength from him. It demanded courage and ruthlessness combined. It demanded change. It demanded a price. And in the end, when he was told the truth, he couldn't even laugh at the fact that the literal translation of Lian Yu - the Mandarin title of his punishment for living a life of worthlessness - literally meant Purgatory. It just made him sadder. More terrified. More sure that he wasn't getting off this place alive.
But that was a long while ago: mere weeks after his arrival.
Living daily with the idea that death was inevitable wasn't conducive to hope. So Ollie had none. And Ollie became Oliver. No one called him Ollie anymore.
Sara had, when he'd seen her again.
It hadn't felt real.
When he'd first landed on the rocky plains of the coastline he'd passed out. He'd woken again to pull the raft in which he'd lived in for days without food that held his father's carcass, a body by then covered with flies as they drifted deliriously, onto the shore.
His first few weeks after burying his father had been filled with terror, interspersed with curiosity and confusion. A haze of depression had descended quickly, combined thickly with what Oliver was sure had been shock. He hadn't cried when his father had died. Not even when he buried him. He'd thrown up. Twice. But he hadn't shed a tear.
Something had been very wrong with him. Maybe even before now, deep in his core, maybe he was already bad.
Meeting Yao Fei taught him loyalty as the man simultaneously showed him the basics of survival. Edward Fyers taught him contempt. Taught him to hate. His adept first teacher in the meaning of greed. In the lust men and women have for power. Slade Wilson was the purest example of a warrior to be found there; he taught him how to fight, how to be strong just as Shado taught him the meaning of acceptance and comfort. And how to shoot a bow. How to speak Mandarin.
Both of these people had forced him to understand betrayal. And the agony of your own weaknesses.
And then Sara…
Sara showed him the meaning of regret. Of acceptance to the shadows.
Her arrival forced him to face that he was no longer who he once was. And that he liked neither of his 'selves'. How could you rise up from that?
On this island, this place… it was dark. And empty and painful and he didn't want to leave. Didn't want to join in the light anymore. It was too hard. There was nobody left anyway, nobody to save him.
They were all gone.
All of them.
So what was the point? There would be no more adventures, no more sacrifices. Maybe now it was time to join his father, who he'd failed.
Story of my life.
Whatever was waiting for him couldn't possibly be as bad as what he'd been through.
…As his consciousness ebbed he swore he heard the rumble of a motor boat, the ripples in the water increasing…
Gotham City, December 2009
It was cold here… in the dark.
As night fell so did the snow. And it was past midnight.
The stillness of Gotham City winters.
It was something she'd grown to love-
Detest
Except now the silence would infiltrate her dreams, turning them to nightmares. The ghosts of her past whispering in her ears, wrapping around her mind, silkily like the arms of lure.
She couldn't reason her… condition. Her mind was in chaotic dissonance with itself. Couldn't fabricate the meaning behind the twitching of her fingers. Or the very real slant of her emotions, her… sanity…It couldn't-I don't- he just- I can't- that didn't happen-I'm not- No.
Never-
-Couldn't process what had just happened. Thoughts were useless. A zombie had more life in it than she. Some people went to war as soldiers. Others were involved in accidents or environmental catastrophes. And individuals suffered through the whims of another. Things happened to people on this planet that were simply beyond their control. And it was unfair.
But she went through a different kind of madness. Her own decent.
Alone.
In the quiet.
So quiet
The storm had finally found her.
It's so black here. There were shadows in this city. They crept up on you, reaching and clawing and crawling up your skin. Pulling you in. Shadows far more dangerous than the horrors roaming Vegas or Massachusetts.
On her back as the night encroached, her overly large beige coat stained with white and black, as blood looks black in the moonlight, she stared up into the night. The darkness swallowed her whole. Stars were fleeting. Glass fell slowly, in spattering's here and there. The building to her side foreboding as it stood twenty eight stories high. Nobody cared.
A muscle spasmed…. The side of her mouth twitched.
But she wasn't really there.
…Wet fur brushed against her fingers.
She didn't move. Couldn't. She wasn't really awake. Barely alive at all. Didn't really feel the pain. Not yet. Not ever. Not really. Never. Just the sense of wrongness of it all.
The anarchy of her psychosis.
That's… what I get, she supposed, eyes wide and unfocused, irises almost colourless, the blue of her veins dark against the white… for trying to do the right thing.
She'd never stop trying. It was in her nature.
The start…
I won't tell you all that was faced. That's another story.
But in the time preceding and the time that followed, what once existed, became… different. Something else. New.
Because in order to beat death, to survive? One first have to rise. And rise again.
Until lambs become lions.
One would. One did. One had to.
Not a single soul would be untouched by the ramifications.
Good or bad? I'll leave it up to you to decide…
Starling City, October 2012
(They found him. Or rather, he let himself be found.)
The name of the island they found me on is… Lian Yu. It's mandarin for purgatory. I've been stranded here for 5 years. I've dreamt of my rescue every cold black night since then. And I've changed.
For 5 years, I've had only one thought, one goal - survive... survive and one day return home. The island held many dangers. To live, I had to make myself more than what I was, to forge myself into a weapon. I am returning not the boy who was shipwrecked but the man who will bring justice to those who have poisoned my city…
WEBG Starling City 7 News
"…Oliver Queen is alive. The Starling City resident was found by fishermen in the North China sea 5 days ago, 5 years after he was missing and presumed dead following the accident at sea which claimed "The Queen's Gambit." Queen was a regular tabloid presence and a fixture at the Starling City club scene. Shortly before his disappearance, he was acquitted of assault charges stemming from a highly publicized drunken altercation with paparazzi. Queen is the son of Starling City billionaire Robert Queen, who was also on board but now officially confirmed as deceased…"
Starling City Hospital
"…20% of his body is covered in scar tissue. Second-degree burns on his back and arms. X-rays show at least 12 fractures that never properly healed…"
So much has happened…
"Has he said anything about what happened?"
"No. He's barely said anything. Moira, I'd like you to prepare yourself. The Oliver you lost...might not be the one they found."
…So much is about to.
And now I will fulfil my father's dying wish: to use the list of names he left me and bring down those who are poisoning my city. To do this, I must become someone else. I must become something else.
…My name is Oliver Queen.
It starts.