AN: Back to work! Miss me? Here it is, Book 3 of Eternal Wrath is all written and edited. Each chapter will be posted every Wednesday. I hope there are still readers around to give me feedback, it's always useful and nice. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Broken, Beaten... Shattered

'Happiness is just a feeling of euphoria. It's your brain chemistry going into overdrive. That's why so many relationships fail when the honeymoon ends and reality sets in.' - Lex Luthor, Season 6, Episode 3: "Wither".

April 28th 2011. 03:57 AM UTC-6. Metropolis, Kansas, USA.

A hooded shape walked aimlessly through the low-lit streets of the asleep city. He slowed down when the glow of an all-night shop illuminated his blond hair and chiseled features. The sight of a live TV screen drew him forward until he could make out a familiar shape through the blur.

Intrigued, he stepped even closer, reaching the threshold of the shop. He could hear the hushed tones coming from the TV set so as to not disturb the silence of the street.

'"Here we are with Luthorcorp's CEO, Regan Matthews, for this morning economics interview. Mr. Matthews took over the company after a certain Lex Luthor after he was elected President of the USA." The journalist turned towards Matthews. "Tell us Mr. Matthews, isn't it hard to take up the succession of our president?"

"There is certainly a high standard to live up to, I won't deny it." Regan smiled. "I think multiple factors need to be considered: First, the economic environment is improving, slowly but steadily and as an international company, we have noticed this phenomenon in several countries. Second, our competition doesn't have much bite these times..."

"Are you in a monopoly situation?" the journalist asked.

"No, we simply have the advantage currently but that might change in the future." Regan replied. "Take Queen Industries as an example. They once were the number one on their market but they've been resting on their laurels and are now in a difficult situation. Of course, having a CEO who's never there doesn't help either."

"Since we're talking Q.I., you seem to have a strong opinion about Oliver Queen, why is that?"

"I know the man, that's it. He's hardly fitted to run a company as large as Queen Industries or any company, really. All the time we see he's absent from the lead and I hear his Board is becoming exasperated with him. Mr. Queen probably enjoys the finest things in life with his girlfriend – or maybe not just with her. I can't blame him for having sins like everyone but there has to be a limit somewhere..."'

The young man's jaw was tight when he pulled away. He had heard enough. Criticism was a thing he was used to but Regan's words stung because they held a part of truth.

He headed to the darkest part of the city, crossing the street to walk down the entryway of an unaffected underground parking lot. People were already inside and the music blared through the walls. He glanced at the fenced ring surrounded by a mass of hysterics cheering on the fight raging on it. Ignoring the pounding, he passed by them and took up the stairs in the direction of the backroom.

It didn't matter how many blows he received, Oliver always wanted more. For months he'd been doing this, getting into illegal fight clubs and setting himself up against the toughest possible guys just to feel the physical pain afterwards.

He was bloody, his sweat running down all the planes of his body just as every muscle ached, begging to be spared. Refusing to give up, Oliver stood up again. He barely had time to blink that the already was back on the ground, this time nursing a broken nose.

All around, the crowd cheered or cried. While their presence was loud and overwhelming to most fighters, it didn't have much impact on him. Instead, he felt utterly alone amongst them.

The fight was over in minutes. The bell rang and Oliver was escorted out of the cage as his opponent was declared winner. The next minutes were a blur in his memory. He had received some medical attention from unsuitable people and now found himself in the locker room once more.

He rubbed his aching nose, wincing, and pulled his sports bag out of the wall before he started to pull off his sticking tee-shirt and head for the showers. He felt too much comfort in the warm water and decided to pull the temperature lever all the way down.

It was there, under the ice-cold water pouring down on him, that he first caught a glimpse of two young women coming up from the corridor. The first one was a short-haired blonde whose white blouse knotted between the breasts and short skirt didn't leave much to the imagination. Her companion had a darker skin and her clothing was pretty much inexistent.

His gaze didn't wander over the sultry expressions of the two teenagers or their attractive bodies, he turned his head and closed his eyes, intent on feeling his wounds itch. He was too numb to jump when he felt small hands stroking his back suggestively, nor did he react much when the ebony girl started kissing his neck, a slow hand exploring his chest.

Their words didn't even reach his ears, the beating of his heart drowned out every other sound. The blonde pressed her body against his side and he realized they were both nude. She whispered something in his ear and giggled before slowly getting to her knees maintaining eye-contact with him.

He seethed like a wild animal, grabbing the blonde's wrist, pulled her up and away along with her friend. They stumbled with the strength of his shove, stunned to have been rejected in such a way.

"Leave me alone!" he growled. He wanted to be alone, always alone.

The blonde launched herself into a rant of curses before spitting in his direction. Oliver didn't hesitate to slap her. The girl's head turned, her blonde curls twirling around in the air. Oliver blinked and took a step back, his eyes focused on her hair. "Ch- Chloe?" he whispered.

"I ain't your Chloe bitch, freak!" she yelled. "Screw you!"

They both stormed away from the shower, leaving a confused Oliver behind. He was shaken, his brain troubled and yearning for its dose. He could already feel the strong headache threatening to take over him.

Oliver turned off the water and proceeded to dry himself off. The task was barely done and he already was fumbling into his bag, ripping open a small plastic of white powder. He looked around frantically for the nearest smooth surface.

The pipe ran over the wood of the window edge and he sent his head back, sighing in relief. Oliver rubbed his nose, cleaning any remnant of the substance away while his body felt more alive all of a sudden.

Now he wanted to go back and fight again. It didn't matter who could be paired against him, he felt invincible, no one could take him on, he was sure of it.

The clear light coming from the small window caught his eye and he sighed. It was morning already, the club would be closed for the day now, it was too late for another round in the cage.

Disappointed, the blond billionaire worked around his pain to dress himself and stuffed his dirty clothes into his bag before setting off into the corridor on his way out.

As he walked out of the lockeroom, he had his back to a young brunette girl who watched him shuffle away. Being an involuntary witness of the scene in the shower, she reflected on the reasons that would find someone as famous and rich as Oliver Queen in such a seedy and desolate place. The man was a good fighter and whilst his focus often prevented him to win, he had moves she had never seen before.

There was an aura to him. He looked like a man without a compass in life, someone who had lost his will to live. A broken man.

"Mia!"

She looked right to see the manager shouting at her. Time was up, she just hoped that she would be able to avoid any blow to the face, she needed to look attractive for her other job. Otherwise, Rick would kill her.

April 28th 2011. 06:02 AM UTC-6. Clocktower's penthouse, Metropolis, Kansas, USA.

Oliver almost sprawled over the threshold as he got out of the elevator. He grinned, laughing at his antics, until his blurry eyes spotted a familiar figure standing in the middle of the living room. He stilled, his eyes wide.

"Uh... hi..." he slurred over his words.

Chloe shook her head. "I've been waiting for you here all night, worried sick and all you can say is 'hi'?" she said almost in disgust. "Where have you been?"

"I...uh..." A moment of silence saw him helplessly struggling to find his words until he gave up and simply shrugged. He rubbed his nose again.

Chloe noticed it right away. "You're using again, aren't you?" she sighed remembering the countless occasions she had had to look all over the penthouse to find his cocaine stash and wash it down the toilets. "Oliver it's been seven months... you can't keep going on like this. You're going to... to kill yourself." she said, feeling moisture filling her eyes.

He scoffed. "Maybe that's what I've been hoping for all along-"

"No, it's not!" she cut him off angrily. "If you had wanted to commit suicide, you would already be dead!"

He looked down. "Coward.." he muttered to himself.

She calmed down immediately. "Ollie... you don't get it. You want to live but you feel like you don't deserve to. Don't look so surprised, we've been living together for two years now. I'm pretty sure I know almost everything about you." They looked at each other for a long, tense moment. "Don't shut me out again please... I've done nothing but try to get to you and you-"

"Haven't you ever thought that I didn't want to be helped, Chloe?" he broke off harshly.

"What happened to Bart wasn't your fault, Ollie." she said softly.

"Don't say his name!" he shouted, making her jump. "You want to know why I'm sticking around?! It's because of you! You can't get a fucking hint! I want to be alone!"

Chloe had dealt with his burst of anger before. She should have been used to them. Yet, his guilt-fueled rage enhanced by the drugs saw him act in such an unpredictable way she didn't recognize him anymore. The words he used, the things he did... Chloe wasn't sure he even understood the consequences of his actions most of the time. In these moments, holding onto a rational train of thoughts and keeping her emotions at bay proved almost an impossible task.

She stormed his way, her brow furrowed in anger. The sight of her rushing forward had Oliver take a surprised take back as he swallowed hard. She didn't let him leave and soon enough, she took the sides of his face in a firm grip as she stood on her toes, almost reaching eye-level with him.

"You both had a connection and I can't imagine how hard it is for you to have to carry on without him..." she started in a stern, dangerous tone. "Do you really think you're alone with this pain? I'm hurting too! So are Dinah and Vic, AC and Lois! We all feel the same way! No one blames you, no one but yourself. You don't want to hear it but this isn't your goddamn fault, Oliver. It never has been. What happened to him was – and always has been out of your control!"

She opened her mouth to drive her point home when, upon shifting against him, the side of his neck was bared to her view and traces of bright red lipstick smeared against his skin reflected in her eyes. She had to choke back a sob, an intense pain seizing her chest as she let him go and walked backward slowly.

"Maybe you really don't want me here anymore." she whispered, one tear betraying her.

The sight of her crying was hard to bear and her sudden reversal of attitude confused Oliver until he noticed her attention had come from a certain part of his body. His hand touched his neck, smeared lipstick appeared in his palm.

He remembered in horror, the events that took place in the shower. Oliver stared at her, his eyes wide. "It's not what you think, Chloe! I'd- I'd never..."

"You don't need to say anything else." she replied. "I get it, it's over. I won't bother you anymore." she instantly turned back and almost ran towards their bedroom.

"Chloe!" he shouted after her. "I didn't do anything! I... I love you... I..." he finished in whispers, a lump in his throat.

He had been living like his time was counted ever since Bart's death, all he wanted was to feel pain beyond the one his friend's death had brought but having Chloe think the worse of him was the final blow.

He truly was a failure.