Standard disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they belong to the CW and DC Comics.
AN: I am both upset and excited that the bad guy I have chosen to use is one that has just been announced for season 3! And here I thought I was being all original! This has been edited by myself, but no beta as of yet, please let me know if you are interested in that as this story is not over yet. Also, the majority of this was typed on my phone... so I am sure there are some mistakes that I have yet to catch. Enjoy.
"Oliver, I found her." He had never heard such fantastic words in all his life. His friend, driver and bodyguard continued speaking, but he couldn't focus. He could only grasp at the knowledge that she had been found.
"Is she alive?" He interrupted tersely.
"My sources don't know for certain, but it is their belief that she is. Oliver, we found her, let's go get our girl."
"I'm geared up already, text me the address and any intel." With that Oliver dropped the call and revved his bike into motion and shot down the narrow ally.
He felt the text vibrate its receipt and glanced quickly at the information therein, clenching his fist at the realization that she had been so close this whole time. Quickly taking the next available left, the billionaire hero mentally prepared himself for what was to come. He refused to believe that she was dead and that this was a recovery mission, as far as he was concerned, this was a rescue.
Less than ten minutes after his brief conversation with John, the Arrow came to a quick stop outside of an abandoned factory in the Glades. It was a two story brick building enclosed inside a chain link fence. There was minimal lighting on the exterior, and he could only make out two individuals guarding what looked to be the exit. There wasn't anyone else in sight, no rotating personnel walking the perimeter, no radio check-ins. With practiced ease, Oliver lifted his bow and took both miscreants while on the move.
He saw them both drop, instantly dead with an arrow each to their heart, as he sprinted to the doors they were supposedly watching. With a fast glance through the rectangular window, he could see the way was clear, and promptly opened the door, bracing for the alarm that was sure to sound. With a small lift of his shoulders at the lack of guards and alarms, he cautiously made his way down the hallway, bow at the ready, nocked arrow in place.
Oliver looked into every room as he passed, making sure they were clear of adversaries or his target; seeing all of the rooms empty he hastily made his way further into the building. The last door on his right, before the intersection of hallways, revealed a dingy cot, without sheets or a blanket, and a wooden chair. A shredded piece of bright pink fabric snagged his attention, bringing him fully into the room. Lowering his weapon he glanced around, taking in all of the details, and getting an idea of just what this room was, her cell. There were tatters of pink clothing and the remains of what once was a fashionable high heel, though the heel was now missing.
Looking to the bed made his stomach turn. There were clear signs of blood, old and new, all over the lumpy bed roll-turned-mattress. Upon further inspection, the room itself had traces of blood as well, the floor and on some of the walls; dried a dark reddish brown with which he was so familiar. He clenched his jaw so tightly that he actually heard his teeth grind together, before he took a deep steadying breath. Realization dawned that though whatever caused this amount of blood to be spattered around the room and staining the bed had to have been painful and inflicted over time, it was not nearly enough to fear her demise. With one last glance around the room, he again nocked an arrow and proceeded on his quest, fueled all the more to find her and find her fast.
Exiting her jail cell, he saw he was at a "t" shaped intersection. He could either turn left or right. To the left there were only a few remaining doors before it reached it's end, but the right seemed to go further and ended at a double set of doors. Trying to make his decision as quickly as possible, he made up his mind to secure the left side of the building first, and then the right. As he turned to his left he suddenly heard shouting from the opposite direction. He quickly changed course and practically ran the full length of the hallway, until he was right outside the door, which was cracked open. What he heard chilled him to the bone.
"Just give him up! I already know it is Oliver Queen that is the Arrow Vigilante. Why won't you just say it? Break already!" A woman's voice screeched in obvious anger.
He pushed the door open slowly, hoping the hinges were well oiled, cringing when one protested its movement with a small squeak. Holding his breath, Oliver remained as still and quiet as possible, given his adrenaline was on over drive, waiting for all hell to rain down on him. He was surprised to hear the ranting of the irate woman continue, without pause, but terrified at the content of the tirade as the words and their meaning started to take shape in his mind.
"Oliver deserves better than you! You are weak, you can't even defend yourself! Knowing his secret is a liability to him; you will eventually break and tell, or you will get caught by police hacking for him, and you will give him up to save yourself! I cannot have that; he deserves some one strong standing by his side, someone able to fight alongside him, someone like me!"
Oliver was able to move fully into the room halfway through the diatribe and what he saw stopped him in his tracks. Every fiber of his being urged him to rush into the room to protect the injured woman hanging by chains from the rafters far above, but he knew that would likely cause the crazed woman to use the gun she was waving around and he couldn't have that.
Instead, Oliver quickly took in his surroundings; the production floor was large, easily half a football field and directly in front of him were a series of four foot tall conveyors that wrapped around the room, with an opening to his right where they abruptly ended, as if the salvage crew abandoned the project before it was completed. Beyond the conveyors were miscellaneous pieces of defunct equipment scattered sporadically between him and his goal. From his vantage point, he did not have a clear shot at the gun-wielding redhead and he knew that he would either have to get closer for a better shot, or climb the metal stairs to his left that lead to the catwalk that encircled the entire room.
Oliver wanted to be as close to his target as possible when he took down his opponent so that once she was dispatched, he could focus his attention directly on the barely conscious blood covered girl. He decided to inch forward at a crouch, bow held out to the right to keep from tripping him, and his left hand ghosting along the conveyor to his left to help him keep his balance.
He was so focused on staying quiet and getting closer that he didn't realize two men had entered the room behind him. They were upon him before he even knew of the threat and he lamented not checking out the rest of the building first. Thankfully they were not expecting to see him either, so their guns were not yet drawn. The first man charged at him, lowering his shoulder as he got closer in a classic football maneuver, hoping to knock the green clad vigilante on his back. Oliver turned to face his new opponents and was able to feint to the left as the second and smaller man tried to throw a punch.
As Oliver dodged to the side, he was able to push the first attacker further behind him into the conveyor, using the man's own momentum against him and to his own advantage. With the sudden movement to the side, the secondary attacker only managed to clip the Arrow's jaw, but was over balanced, affording Oliver the opportunity to get a few hits in himself.
He lunged for the smaller of the two, bow pulled in tight, then snapped it forward, hitting the man in the temple, dropping him to the ground unconscious. Oliver turned his attention to the remaining thug and they circled each other for a moment until the large brute rushed forward.
He again attempted to barrel into Oliver, but the arrow the vigilante let loose was faster, catching the man in the chest, halting his forward motion and dropping him in his tracks. The arrow didn't directly hit his heart, but he wasn't going anywhere any time soon.
The commotion garnered the attention of the lunatic, something he was actively trying to avoid, and for this very purpose. When the red headed woman saw the Arrow, an overly large smile cracked her face and her eyes widened in pleasure. She quickly moved behind the petite blonde trussed up beside her and put the gun to her bloodied temple calling out, "why if it isn't Oliver Queen himself. The Arrow, vigilante, hero. This isn't quite how I wanted us to get reacquainted, but I guess it will just have to do!"
Oliver moved forward on swift feet, arrow at the ready, sighted on what appeared be a scar over her heart. He lowered his bow, when upon realizing what kind of target she was providing she ducked behind her hostage, just a small portion of her head showing above the bloody shoulder.
This was his first opportunity to really see the woman up close and his heart sank as he started categorizing her wounds; he could tell by the way her shoulders were at different heights that one was dislocated, and blood covered her from head to toe, staining blonde tresses a much deeper shade. Her head was bowed forward towards her chest and she was completely lax in the manacles, clearly unconscious. What little he could see of her beneath the crimson of fresh blood and the dark rust of dried was a multitude of bruises. They covered her, seemingly every available surface. His assessment only took a moment, but he was both furious and sickened by what he saw.
"She better be alive." He ground out through clenched teeth.
"Only because of your inconvenient timing, Ollie." She smiled.
"Why? Why did you do this?" He pleaded.
"That's simple, silly, for you. For us." She blinked, thinking the answer was obvious.
"For," he paused, confusion apparent, "for us?"
"Yes, Ollie, she would have come between us; already was coming between us. Don't you see?" She moved slightly from behind her shield, trying to see him better, imploring with her eyes.
"I don't understand; I don't even know you. How could she come between us?" He was starting to get angry and it was beginning show.
"Don't even know me? You don't even know me? Mr. Queen, I am your biggest fan! I have followed your work since your return from the island. Your work at Queen Consolidated, then as the Arrow, everything! I have been there every step of the way, cheering you on, watching. Then she comes along and snags your attention. I knew she would be a problem, She would distract you from your true potential, your purpose, me. I can help you, protect you, fight alongside you. I have been trained, special forces, I won't break under torture, no one will know your true identity from me. But this one, she's weak. Though she never told me who you were, she hasn't been able to withstand everything I have put her through. Look at her! She doesn't deserve you, Ollie!" With that, she grabbed a handful of hair and jerked the blonde's head up sharply, showing Oliver a bruised and battered face, covered in dried blood.
He jerked his bow back in place and let loose an arrow as soon as the option presented itself, hitting her high in the shoulder, effectively knocking her backwards and away from her captive. At the same time some one rushed him from behind, throwing him to the floor, bow sliding across the ground and out of reach.
Not in the mood, Oliver twisted, grabbed an arrow from his quiver and slammed it into his attackers neck. Blood splattered his face but the man was no longer a threat. He jumped to his feet and raced towards the bound girl in the center of the room, belatedly realizing the red head was no where to be seen. He honestly couldn't even care, he only had eyes for the injured blonde.
He reached her side in a few rushed steps, immediately placing two fingers to her neck, not taking a breath until he found a pulse, weak, but present. Oliver unlatched the cuffs from around her wrists, thankful a key was not actually required, and gently lowered her into his arms, cradling her to his chest. She groaned quietly as his arm came into contact with her back, but she didn't awaken. He leant her forward and almost threw up when he saw the state of her back, he knew what made those marks, and he was horrified that it had ever happened to her.
He opened up his comm link and started talking, inherently knowing Diggle would already be on the other end, not expecting all the chatter that greeted him. He knew everyone was worried, but he had to practically yell to get their attention, "hey! Shut up already, I do not need any back up, I need Dig here, now. I need to look her over, its bad guys. I need some research done in the mean time: female, red head, scar over her left breast in the shape of a heart, knew who I was, said we have met, biggest fan. Dig, how close are you?"
As he was talking, he was looking for and cataloging injuries; he knew about the dislocated shoulder and the lacerations to her back already, but with each pass over her body he found more: broken wrist, swollen feet, deep bruising all over her legs. It was hard to tell anything else as she was filthy and covered in blood. Her blonde hair was matted with it and what little remained of her clothes was stained rust.
She moaned and started moving weakly, mumbling incoherently in his arms, then he watched her back arch and heard her scream in pure agony. He began talking, not really paying any mind to what he was saying, just trying to comfort, when he heard Dig in his ear asking for his location.
He told his friend to meet him out back, and then he felt a soft touch to his cheek, prompting him to look back at his charge in time to hear her mumble a disjointed "you're bleeding" before her hand fell back to her lap and her eyes closed. He told her to focus on him and that she was safe now, but he could tell she was going in and out of consciousness. He stood abruptly with his precious cargo and hastily but carefully retraced his path from earlier. He tucked her head into his shoulder and ran out the rear door and directly to the town car parked right outside, climbing into the back, cradling her in his arms the entire way to the hospital.