It's been nearly a year since I finished my last story, and after a lot of thought I've decided to go ahead with a sequel to "Green Arrow: Resurrection." I say it's a sequel, but in fact it can be read as a stand-alone; there will be references to what's happened before, but even if you haven't read my other stories you should still be able to enjoy this one. I've got lots of twists and turns planned, as well as plenty of action, adventure and angst. There will also be a lot of whump for our heroes, which won't come as a surprise to anyone who has read my earlier stories - as you know, for me it's not a good fic unless you take the good guys to hell and back!

Let me set the scene by reminding you where we left things at the end of "Green Arrow: Resurrection." After a titanic struggle with Lex Oliver and the guys finally succeeded in defeating him, and at the beginning of this story he is presumed dead. In the course of his fight with Lex, however, Oliver's double life as the Green Arrow was exposed, and this story is set in a world where everyone knows the true identity of the archer. Six months have passed since the events of "Resurrection," and Oliver and Chloe have moved to Star City. The other members of the Justice League have dispersed to fight their own battles, and Clark has at last embraced his identity as Superman. Meanwhile Oliver and Chloe have struggled to cope with the attention of the world's media, whilst at the same time making preparations to get married. As Green Arrow Oliver has moved against the criminals of Star City with devastating effect, and outwardly everything appears perfect. However, Oliver is haunted by memories of what he suffered at the hands of Lex, and in the shadows new enemies have been plotting, waiting for their moment to strike...

So the stage is set - here we go again!

Chapter 1: Cleaning up the Streets

Aldo Minetti was nervous. He was not normally a man given to moments of anxiety; in his business he couldn't afford to be. But these were not normal times, which also explained why he was standing in the middle of a piece of waste ground at one o'clock in the morning. Four months ago he would have entrusted a deal like this to one of his men. Then it would have seemed nothing special; a standard delivery, just like the dozens that had gone before. Now things were different. Those men he'd once relied on – good guys, guys who'd served the family for years - were gone, either dead or behind bars. Gone, too, was much of the empire he and his father had built up over the past thirty years, an empire that had made him one of the most feared and powerful organised crime bosses in the country. Now, however, he was the one who was afraid. He was fighting to survive, his life's work all but ruined. And all because some arrogant pretty boy billionaire wanted to play the hero…..

He checked his watch.

Three minutes past one.

They were late – why were they always late?

He fumbled for a cigarette, his hand shaking slightly as he lit up. Annoyed that his nerves had betrayed him, he glanced at his men, all armed with automatic weapons powerful enough to blow a hole through a brick wall. Fortunately none of them had noticed, their eyes instead scanning the area, searching for any sign of danger, any sign of him…..

Suddenly the sound of a car's engine disturbed the still night air. Minetti's men tensed, each gripping his gun a little tighter. Their boss, in contrast, felt a surge of relief. They were here – in five minutes the exchange would be made, and he could get the hell out of there.

A black SUV appeared, its lights momentarily dazzling Minetti as it drove towards them. Coming to a halt a few yards from where they stood, five men got out. In the half-light cast by the moon, they appeared identical to each other; the same impeccably cut dark suits, the same slicked back hair, the same eastern European scowls.

Minetti frowned. A year ago he would never have dreamt of dealing with the Russian mob; they were too brash, too careless. Now he had no choice. His usual suppliers had been forced out of business, victims of a police crackdown inspired by the archer and his band of freaks. Only the Russians had the coke he needed in the right quantities to keep his Star City operation going. He had to deal with them, however distasteful they might be.

One of the men came towards him, his scowl replaced by a broad grin.

"Aldo!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. "It is good to see you, my friend!"

The two men shook hands, Minetti forcing a thin smile to his lips. The other man appeared relaxed, as if he were meeting up with an old friend for a beer.

"You have the merchandise?" asked Minetti. His tone was anything but relaxed; he sounded anxious, his eagerness to complete the deal all too obvious.

"I have the merchandise," confirmed the other man, his smile widening slightly. It amused him to see the once all powerful Carlos Minetti nervous like this, and he couldn't resist the urge to play with him a little.

"But first a drink, yes?" he continued, pulling a finely engraved hip flask from his pocket. "Vodka, the finest – I have it imported from St Petersburg. Here, have some. A toast - to our new partnership."

"Another time, maybe," said Minetti, refusing the Russian's offer. "I have the money – five million, as we agreed." As he spoke one of Minetti's men stepped forward and handed him a briefcase. Minetti opened it, turning it so that the other man could see the neatly stacked bundles of notes inside.

The Russian whistled, his eyes widening at the sight of the money. He picked up one of the bundles, holding it up to his nose and making a show of sniffing the crisp, unmarked notes.

"Ahh, the American dollar!" he purred, as if appreciating the bouquet of a fine wine. "There is no sweeter smell, my friend – except the smell of a good woman, yes?"

"You've got the money, Mikhail – now where's my drugs?"

"Be patient, my friend! I am sure you do not expect me to hand over such a valuable consignment without first checking that the payment is as we agreed."

The Russian handed the case to one of his men, who returned to the SUV to begin the process of counting the money.

Minetti bit his lip. He was desperate to complete the deal and get out of there, but it was clear that the Russian was in no hurry. He had no choice but to wait, but his sense of unease was growing with every passing second. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for any sign of danger. There was none, but still he couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere out there another pair of eyes were watching, waiting…..

"So, what about that drink?" continued the Russian, once more offering Minetti the flask. The other man barely noticed; he continued to stare off into the blackness, his ears straining to detect even the slightest sound that seemed out of place.

"What's the matter, Aldo? You seem nervous – perhaps you are expecting a visit from the archer, eh?"

Minetti frowned, but said nothing; the Russian was playing with him, trying to provoke a reaction, and he had no intention of taking the bait.

"What do they call him? The Green Arrow? I tell you, if this man Queen was in Russia he would not be a problem. We would eliminate him – a single bullet, that is all it would take, a single….."

Minetti felt something pass his cheek, the air rippling almost imperceptibly. He turned. The Russian was staring at him, the grin of moments earlier replaced by a mixture of shock and outright terror. For a split second Minetti didn't understand what was happening, until his eyes were drawn to the arrow that protruded obscenely from the other man's chest, a charge of electricity crackling from its tip. The Russian tried to speak, but no words would come; instead he fell backwards, hitting the earth with a thud. Aghast, for a moment Minetti stood rooted to the spot. He'd feared an ambush, even half-expected it, but now it was happening his mind was struggling to catch up. Then the gunfire started. The Russians shot wildly into the darkness, the crackle of automatic rounds being discharged shattering the stillness of the night air. Their enemy remained unseen, but unlike his more well-armed opponents his arrows did not fail to find their targets. Off to his left Minetti saw a second man fall, an arrow embedding itself in his thigh and causing him to cry out in pain. He didn't wait to see what happened next. He ran for his car, throwing himself into the passenger seat just as two more of the Russians fell to the ground away to his right.

"Drive!" he shouted, ducking down as low as possible as bullets continued to fly in all directions.

His chauffeur didn't move, but just stared at Minetti, his eyes wide with fear.

"Drive, damnit – get me the fuck out of here!"

Stung into action, the other man started the car. As he did so the windshield in front of him shattered, showering both men with glass. Horrified, Minetti soon identified the cause; an arrow, now embedded in his driver's chest. He didn't hesitate. Reaching across, he threw open the door on the driver's side, before unceremoniously pushing the stricken man from the car. Keeping as low as possible, he then eased himself over into the driver's position. Taking hold of the wheel, he rammed his foot hard on the gas pedal. The back wheels of the car span, before it accelerated away in a cloud of dust.

His pulse racing, Minetti steered the car towards the road. He hit it with a jolt, so hard he almost lost control of the wheel. Recovering, he yanked the wheel to the left and again stepped on the gas. The car responded, roaring off up the deserted street.

A wave of relief swept over Minetti. He didn't care about the drugs; neither did he care about the bundles of dollar bills, which at that moment lay strewn around the bodies of the men who were supposed to have been the guarantee of his security. All that mattered was that he'd escaped. He'd recover, come back and fight another day – and next time he'd be ready for that bastard who thought he ruled this city….

The sound of a second engine interrupted his thoughts – a motorcycle, approaching fast. He glanced in his rear view mirror. There, gaining on him at an alarming speed, was the single headlight of a high performance bike. Panicking, he floored the gas pedal, willing the car to go faster. He knew who was chasing him, and it wasn't one of his own security detail.

Queen!

Cursing himself for being so stupid as to think he could get away that easily, Minetti took a hard right, turning into a narrow side street. The bike followed, still gaining on him fast. He knew that it was hopeless, and that his chances of shaking his pursuer were next to zero. It was then that the idea hit him. The bike was nearly upon him now, just a dozen or so feet behind. Minetti jammed his foot on the brake. As the car suddenly decelerated he was thrown forwards, only his seatbelt preventing him from being thrown headlong through the shattered windscreen. The rider of the bike was not so lucky. He tried to swerve, but it was too late; just as Minetti intended, the bike clipped the side of the rear bumper, the force of the impact sending both it and its rider flying high into the air.

"Take that, motherfucker!" shouted Minetti, exultant as the bike crashed spectacularly into one of the walls that rose high on either side of the street. A few seconds later and the car came to a halt, about sixty feet further on from where the bike had come to rest. Minetti sat still, his heart pumping so hard he thought it was about to explode from his chest. For a moment he thought about making good his getaway; the road ahead of him was clear, and there was nothing between him and the safety of his fortified mansion out in the foothills that surrounded the city. But the pull of what lay behind him proved too irresistible to ignore. Somewhere back there was the Green Arrow, wounded, helpless. Why shouldn't he finish the job? He'd never get a better opportunity to destroy the man who had all but ruined him – how could he pass on that?

Aldo Minetti, the man who killed the Green Arrow.

He liked that thought – he liked it a lot. With one bullet he could end the nightmare of the last six months, restore his fortunes after all the humiliations, all the setbacks he had suffered at the hands of Queen and his band of freaks. Once again he would be the man who mattered in Star City – not some wannabe hero who thought life was like some kid's comic book.

Reaching forwards, he opened the glove compartment, fumbling for the gun that he knew his driver always kept there. Checking that it was loaded, he then looked in his rear view mirror. He could just about make out the mangled remains of the bike, its shape clearly visible in the light cast by a lamp mounted high on the wall that it had crashed into just a minute or so earlier. There was no sign of its rider, but Minetti was undeterred. He'd seen Queen somersault through the air; there was a good chance he was already dead, and even if he'd survived he'd be in no condition to give him any trouble. His confidence growing, he got out of the car and began to make his way back towards the scene of the collision.

The air was still, and the street seemed unusually quiet. After the roar of the chase the silence unnerved him a little; he clasped the gun a little tighter, his finger poised over the trigger. Advancing on what was left of the bike, his eyes searched the ground, trying to make out where his pursuer had landed. There was nothing, just the remains of what Minetti could now see was a top of the range ducati. Suddenly he felt uneasy. Something wasn't right – something wasn't right at all…..

A loud crashing sound to his left caused him to spin round, his heart in his mouth. He fired, the sound of the gun echoing off the walls and shattering the calmness of the night air. There was a screeching sound, and a cat shot out from under a dumpster.

Dumb ass, said Minetti to himself. Shooting at a goddam cat….

"You want to watch where you shoot that thing, Minetti – someone could get hurt."

Minetti swung round. For a spilt second he saw nothing – just a blank wall and the bottom of a fire escape. He looked up. A figure was staring down at him from two flights up on the escape, a figure that reason and common sense told him could not be there…..

Green Arrow!

Terrified, Minetti took aim and fired - or he would have done, had his finger pressed down on the trigger before an arrow sent the gun flying from his hand.

"Your aim's lousy, Minetti – but not as lousy as your driving. Seriously, you need to get some lessons – didn't anyone ever tell you to watch out for motorcycles?"

The voice was deep and smooth, its owner apparently unaffected by the crash which had left his bike a write-off. Shocked and appalled, Minetti stood rooted to the spot. He couldn't quite believe what was happening. He'd seen Queen fly through the air, his bike hit that wall at at least fifty miles an hour. The man should be dead – why the hell wasn't he dead? Maybe it was right what they said about him – maybe he really was indestructible….

"It's over, Minetti," continued Oliver, vaulting over the side of the escape and dropping lightly to the ground. "Now put your hands up – no tricks now, I really don't want to hurt you."

Slowly, Minetti began to raise his hands. As he did so his instinct for self-preservation at last kicked in, banishing the surprise that for a few moments had left him dumbstruck. He knew that if he allowed himself to be taken he was facing some serious jail time – he'd spend years behind bars, maybe even decades. He couldn't allow that to happen, not while there was still a chance he might make it out of that street a free man. Glancing to his left, he saw the dumpster. Immediately he grabbed at it, and with all the force he could muster he drove it hard in Oliver's direction. He didn't stay to see what happened next, but instead turned and ran back in the direction of his car. It was a crazy thing to do, something he knew had next to no chance of success. Still he ran, his heart thumping in his chest as he fixed his eyes firmly on the open car door, the door that offered him one final shot at freedom….

He never heard the arrow being fired, but he certainly felt it. A searing pain in his right leg, so crippling it immediately sent him crashing to the ground. Immobilised, he lay helpless for a few seconds, staring impotently at the arrow which had cut deep into his calf muscle. He was in agony, but the wound didn't hurt half as much as the knowledge that he'd failed, that along with so many of the criminals of Star City he'd fallen victim to one man's insatiable quest for justice.

He looked up. Oliver towered over him, his eyes hidden behind the shades he continued to wear whilst out on patrol. At his side he held a crossbow. It pointed towards the ground, not Minetti; both men knew he was in no condition to make a second break for freedom.

"I warned you," said Oliver calmly. "You shouldn't have run."

"I'll kill you for this, Queen!" replied Minetti, scowling at his captor. The pain from his leg was getting worse, but at that moment his hatred for the young hero was so strong nothing else seemed to matter.

"Really? I don't think so," replied Oliver. "You're going away for a long time, Minetti, and I hate to break it to you, but I don't plan on paying you a visit."

"You think locking me up is going to save you?" hissed Minetti, his anger boiling over. Words were the only weapon left to him, and he was determined to make them count. "I've got friends, Queen – friends who will make you suffer for this. You and that bitch fiancé of yours – what's her name? Chloe? They'll take her and they'll hurt her, Queen – they'll make you watch while they…"

Oliver had heard enough. Balling his hand into a fist, he leant down and punched the other man square in the face, knocking him unconscious.

Lifting himself back up, Oliver stood for a moment, staring down at his victim. Although he didn't show it, he was hurting – the fall from the bike had left him with some bruised ribs, and blood was oozing from a cut to his right shoulder. Still he felt satisfied. It had been a good night's work, and with Minetti's capture the last of Star City's mob bosses had been taken out of action. It was time to call it a night – time to head home.

He tapped the earpiece which connected him to his base.

"Watchtower, this is Arrow, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Arrow – any trouble?"

Oliver smiled at the sound of Chloe's voice. "Nothing I couldn't handle - the bike's a write-off, though."

"Are you okay?"

"A little bruised, but nothing a massage from a devoted sidekick can't put right."

"I'll let Roy know," replied Chloe dryly, deliberately choosing to misinterpret Oliver's meaning. "I'm sure he'll be happy to help."

Oliver grinned. "I'll be back in an hour," he continued. "Give the Star City PD my location – I'll wait here until they pick up Minetti."

"Will do." There was a slight pause. "And Arrow."

"What?"

"Love you."

"Love you, too, Watchtower."

Oliver tapped his earpiece, cutting the link to his base. He smiled. For months now the two of them had been signing off like that, but in just two weeks everything would change.

In two weeks they were getting married.

In two weeks she would no longer just be his Watchtower – she would be Mrs Oliver Queen.

Always good to start with Ollie at his butt-kicking best. Next chapter will see the clouds start to gather, as we meet our villains and begin to get a sense of their evil plan...*cue wicked, echoing laughter*

Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please do post a review if you can - it would be great to know that you guys are still out there!