S1, Ep13

6 Feb. 2013

Betrayal

Summary: Takes place after "Betrayal", episode 1 x 13. What if Malcolm, not satisfied with the police's decision regarding Oliver not being the vigilante in episod and supported by various events, traps Oliver, forcing him to reveal his abilities and thus his secret identity.

Disclaimer: WB/DC own these characters. I'm only borrowing them for a while. I own the original ideas found in this.

AN: Welcome to a new story of mine. This AU will focus on Malcolm and Oliver. Like most of my stories, this one probably wouldn't be very long either, but we shall see where it goes and how exactly will canon be changed. Hope you stick with me for the ride.

Malcolm was in his office at the twenty-second floor of the Merlyn Global high-rise, as he usually was for at least fifteen hours of the day. But this time his mind was heavy with a topic not completely related to his business.

Oliver Queen. The young man who Merlyn had spent many a day wishing was his own son, instead of the often milquetoast, undisciplined son he did have. Oliver had often been the instigator of the many pranks both boys had gotten into over the years, but he still had more potential than Tommy ever would. Oliver Queen had a backbone to him, even if he allowed the girl Laurel Lance to steamroll most of his decisions at times. Merlyn could see Oliver having a life purpose planned out. Tommy more or less skated through life, letting it take him wherever it did. Merlyn was afraid Tommy would never take anything other than partying seriously.

That boy, Oliver. Tough, rebellious, but living the life of a playboy, went off on the yacht unexpectantly with his father, and almost got killed. Occasionally, throughout the five years Oliver was missing, Malcolm questioned whether he'd have followed through with his plan to sabotage the yacht and kill his long-time friend Robert Queen if he'd known Oliver was also going to be on board. At those times, Merlyn pushed away the regret he felt and reminded himself everything was for Rebecca. In the end, the means will always be justified. Even the sacrifice of a young man with such great potential as Oliver Queen.

However, Oliver ended up not being killed. Instead, he was seemingly resurrected five years later and returned home. Returned home with a different personality, but still returned, to the joy of his mother and sister. And step-father.

Upon Oliver's return the first thing on Merlyn's agenda was contacting Moira and asking her how he could be sure Oliver didn't know anything about the Undertaking, knew nothing his father had known. While Malcolm was concerned Robert may have told Oliver about the Undertaking, Moira assured him her baby boy didn't know anything, but Malcolm insisted on proof. So, Moira cooked up the scheme of having him kidnapped and tortured for the information. She was under the impression her boy would naturally be easily scared into giving up such information before any torture would truly be necessary. Thus, no long-lasting effects to Oliver, while Malcolm's concerns would be addressed.

However, the plan didn't go exactly how Moira had expected. Instead, several interesting events occurred. Suddenly, a man dressed like Robin Hood appeared, hunting people seemingly indiscriminatingly at first, then too specific for Merlyn's comfort. It was impossible, but it appeared this hood had the list Merlyn had developed of those individuals who'd be beneficial to the Undertaking. But how could that be? How would a criminal get ahold of the list?

Were the two events connected? Oliver and this vigilante? With his first appearance, this unknown vigilante had saved Oliver compared to his later appearances where he threatened other one-percenters in the city. That inconsistency began to bother Malcolm more and more. Leading to tonight.

All his questions had gradually led to his wondering if the police did get it right and that Robert and Moira Queen's son, the young man Merlyn had known all his life, was actually the vigilante. At first it just seemed too unbelievable. He didn't think Robert had a heroic bone to pass along to his son, even though Moira had enough gumption to pass along to ten sons. But the soft upbringing Oliver had led was not conducive to developing such a persona.

However, Oliver was gone for five years. Five years could be a very long time, and not knowing what circumstances the young man had to live under, anything could have happened. A hero could emerge where once was a spoiled, weak playboy.

Malcolm rose from his desk and angrily pushed the office chair into his mahogany desk. No matter how unreasonable and unbelievable such thinking appeared to be on the surface, his subconscious mind refused to let it go. So, instead of allowing one more minute spent in trying to talk himself out of it, Merlyn instead set his resolve into settling the argument once and for all. He would set up another 'kidnapping' for the young man, but this time he himself would hire the men and would be there watching it go down. If Oliver would again display abilities similar to the vigilante's, then his question would be answered. And…at the same time having captured his rival, preventing any further interference with his plans. Thus, two objectives taken care of in one swoop.

Malcolm smiled grimly while looking at the darkening sky over Starling City. He didn't look forward to hurting Moira once again, but if her son was determined to interfere with the Undertaking, like his father, unfortunately he would also have to die like his father.

~~OQ~~OQ~~OQ~~

Oliver woke up mid-morning, happy and surprised he had gotten several extra hours of sleep the night before. He raised himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed and stretched. Thinking of all he had to do that day, he sighed and slowly got up. After his shower and getting dressed, he ate a healthy breakfast made by Raisa, wished her a good day, and left.

Oliver headed for Verdant, having to get some business done there. He wasn't aware of it, but several very well-trained assassins were following him in a light blue van. Before he knew it, Oliver had reached Verdant, parked his bike in the back alley behind the nightclub and began to walk towards the door.

His senses became aware of trouble seconds before he felt the small, tell-tale pinch in his neck. He quickly swung towards the perceived threat, trying to hold off three men he saw approaching through dimming vision. He was only able to perform one roundhouse kick, disabling one of the men, before he was grabbed by the other two, his arms forced behind his back. He found himself pushed to the ground, forced to kneel on the gravel. A bag was placed over his head, and then darkness overcome him.

Unseen by Oliver, Malcolm was hidden by garbage dumpsters. He watched the scene with interest. He reprimanded himself for using such a quick-acting tranquilizer on Oliver, cutting the fight short. Well, he thought resignedly, Oliver will surely attempt to escape when questioned. Also, that kick was highly impressive for a young man who supposedly never trained.

The plan was to continue to hide from view and to observe Oliver's actions while his best man took over the role of interrogator. Merlyn rode in the van with Oliver and his men, but took a hiding place with an excellent view of the upcoming interrogation once they reached the warehouse. He watched as the men he had hired, who were clearly the professionals they claimed to be, carried Oliver to a chair, tied him to it, and positioned themselves strategically around it while they waited for their 'guest' to wake up.

When he regained consciousness, Oliver wasn't surprised to find himself tied a chair, not unlike the time he and Tommy had been attacked when he first returned. Looking around the room, it appeared to be in the basement portion of some warehouse. Insulated well, windows located high up near the ceiling, no outside noises heard. Meaning the building was made in such a way that no noises could be heard outside as well.

Oliver met the eyes of the man standing right in front of him. He had sandy blond hair cut short. His brown eyes considered Oliver as he waited for Oliver to react to the situation. Oliver moved his look to the other men standing on either side of the first man. One was almost as large as Diggle, also black, without an expression on his face. The other man was also blonde, standing also at attention, waiting for…waiting for something, Oliver supposed.

Oliver wondered whether this snatch was still Queen-related or hood-related, but he didn't have to wait long to find out. The first question answered it.

"What did your father tell you before he died?"

Whoever is behind this is bound and determined for me to tell them something. Not much to tell. Except for the book, and I am not going to tell them anything about that.

Just in case someone different was behind this kidnapping from the previous one with Tommy, Oliver decided to play this one straight. "He didn't tell me anything. Except to live."

The sandy haired man stepped forward and slapped him. "No. He must have told you something. He was about to die. Didn't he want to confess something?"

Making his face appear as innocent as he could, Oliver asked, "What do you think he should have confessed? I already knew he'd had affairs."

His interrogator punched him several times in the stomach, the second punch almost sending him and the chair backwards. The black man had stepped forward quick enough to catch it, and to straighten it back up.

"Mr. Queen, we know you're lying. Do you really want to see how far we will go to get the answers we desire from you? I assure you, it will hurt if you continue to provoke us."

Oliver reviewed what he thought he knew of the situation. It appeared it was the same people who had abducted him the first time. Something tugged at the very bottom of his subconscious, but it refused to come into the light so he'd become aware of it. These goons were beginning to irritate him, so he decided he no longer wanted to continue to play the game.

Having snapped the ties binding his hands, Oliver brought the chair through his legs in front of him, broke it apart, giving himself a weapon of two wooden stakes, each six inches long. He struck out at the interrogator, catching him alongside the head and knocking him into the wall. Due to the momentum, the man seemingly bounced off the wall, knocking the other side of his head, and falling over, unconscious. Two other men rushed Oliver, who took them down with only several more blows to each of them. As he turned towards the stairs, to make his escape, he was met with the sight of a man dressed in a black hood hiding his face, and a long overcoat, holding a bow cocked with an arrow aimed directly at him. The Dark Archer.

"I would advise you, Mr. Queen, not to move and to put the remnants of the chair on the ground. Now."

Oliver waited a second, then quickly approached the man, the wooden parts of the chair striking out aiming for the bow as well as vulnerable parts of the man's anatomy, trying to disarm him as well as get the upper hand. The other archer was distracted for only a second. He then fired two subsequent arrows at Oliver, who dodged the first one, but the second arrow found its mark in Oliver's left upper arm. As he spared a glance at the wound but quickly returned his attention to the other archer, another arrow narrowly missed hitting him on the right side, going into the wall right behind him instead. Without his bow, Oliver was significantly outclassed.

Oliver slowly held his hands up then lowered himself to the floor to place the wooden sticks on the ground. He straightened up and looked at the other archer. "What happens now? You kill me? I don't even know who you are." Inside his head, Oliver was reprimanding himself for displaying fighting tactics which Oliver Queen would never have. And he demonstrated them in front of the Black Archer, enemy of the Hood, no less.

The archer looked beyond Oliver and nodded. Two of his soldiers approached Oliver, grabbed him by the arms and led him out of the room. The other archer followed as they went down the hall. After several twists and turns, they entered another room. Oliver was led to the far wall, which was made of cement. Chains were connected to the wall, with manacles at their ends, which were placed around Oliver's wrists and ankles.

"Given who you are, I decided such extreme measures are called for," the other archer said, meeting Oliver's questioning look.

Adapting a look of innocence, as well as throwing in a splash of the playboy arrogance, Oliver said, "Not sure what you mean." Looking around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings and the cement floors, Oliver said, "Not exactly the Carlton, is it?"

The dark archer gave a short chuckle. "Amusing. No, Mr. Queen, I was not referring to your playboy identity. I was actually referring to your vigilante identity."

Despite being surprised by the remark, Oliver desperately clung to the passive expression he had on his face during his previous comments. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. you are the mysterious vigilante who has been haunting Starling City for the past months."

Oliver noted it was said with supreme confidence, not as a question. Who was in front of him making such an accusation? And how did this person find out?

"Me? The vigilante? I guess you missed the news a few months ago. The police ruled me out as the vigilante back then."

The man in black shook his head slowly. "If that's correct, why would a millionaire's worthless son be able to fight like what you've just done? And if the police suspected you of being the Hood, there must be a reason for it." Letting out a sigh, the man said in a bored tone, "As the cliché goes, where there is smoke…."

Suddenly cold shivers went down Oliver's back. He suddenly got the impression from the man in front of him that this entire incident of being kidnapped and interrogated was more of a test. Or a trap. One he totally fell right into.

"Oh, you mean the using the chair as a weapon? Just something my bodyguard taught me. For my own protection, since I've had several kidnapping attempts and threats. You know, simple stuff. Anyone could do it."

"No, not anyone. Only someone with a particular set of skills. Like the vigilante."

"Well, I just have to disagree, because, to be honest, even though I wish I could be the vigilante, I mean, it would be a pretty neat trick to attract the chicks, but I really am not." Oliver hoped his playboy personae would again help him get out of a tight spot.

Unfortunately, the next thing Oliver was aware of was being forced against the wall, his head angled up towards the ceiling, and his oxygen was being cut off by the large hand of his captor.

"This is what's going to happen. You will tell me everything you know about the Undertaking, including what your father told you before he died. As well as what you've discovered as the vigilante. Then you'll remain my guest for the next several months until the Undertaking is complete. Then and only then, provided you've been a model guest, you will be released."

Looking down into his attacker's eyes, Oliver gasped out, "Again, I don't know what you mean. What is this Undertaking?" He inhaled sharply as the Dark Archer pressed even tighter on his throat.

"I'm warning you, Mr. Queen, for the very last time. That better be the last lie you try to tell me, or, even though I do have the highest respect for you and your family, I will seriously express my anger." The man suddenly released his hold, and Oliver found his body collapsing to the ground without the support.

Something about his kidnapper was ringing familiar to Oliver, but he couldn't yet put a finger on it. He straightened up, and reminded himself he needed to continue the playboy personae. So he swallowed the anger and defiance which had welled up inside him, and said, with a sufficient amount of assumed fear, "I can't tell you what I don't know. I really don't know what this Undertaking is. As for my father? He certainly hadn't mentioned any such thing," which was true, "and his death happened so quickly there wasn't any time for him to tell me anything." Like hell am I going to tell this guy about the notebook.

Oliver watched as the man's blue eyes grew darker as he glared at Oliver. Something about the dark, dangerous look reminded Oliver of…then he lost any clue as to what he was thinking of.

"Well, if I'm proven wrong, I'll stand corrected. However, I must rule out all threats to my plans. So…a few days here in this cell without food or water, and we'll judge which one of us is correct. As well as what you have learned masquerading as the vigilante."

Oliver watched as the Dark Archer turn and leave the cell. The door slammed shut and Oliver heard what sounded on a wooden board placed across it. As well as a lock being turned.

Oliver pulled against the chains as hard as he could. He knew it was futile, but it was always a smart idea not to leave any possibility unexamined. As expected, the chains didn't move a millimeter out of the wall.

An unbidden thought crossed his mind. Too bad he didn't take Diggle's suggestion to place trackers within his clothes and shoes seriously.

AN: So, what you think? Hope you found it entertaining. Like I said, not sure where I will go with this, how much canon will end up changed or not. Glad you decided to join me on this journey, and hope you return for the next chapter when I post it. Again, thanks for reading, and always appreciate any kindness with posting a review as well.