Felicity Meghan Smoak could count on her left hand the number of times she had been in trouble. There was sixth grade when she had been busted for a bit of online deviance. Then seventh grade, when her tongue had run away from her and she had called Stacy Darrow a conniving cunt and then had tried to make up for it with a flushed face and rambling half assed apologies. There was the single time she had been picked up for shoplifting in the ninth grade. But it had been a jar of peanut butter and the officer in charge had let her go and instead had taken her brother and her out for pizza. Then there was the one occasion she had ran away from home but it didn't last long, as she couldn't bear to leave her brother behind. Then there was that one time, a few years ago, when she had been arrested and actually booked for assault after a bar brawl that her childhood best friend had instigated. Caitlin had always been a bit reckless anyway. Anyhow, It was normally her brother in this sort of predicament.
Roy had just turned seventeen, had an attitude for days, and frequently ran through the Glades like it was his own misdemeanor mischief playground instead of, well, the Glades. And the past week and a half had showed her that her brother was going to end up in world of hurt or a world of trouble if he didn't get his act together. So being the big sister that she was, she had taken it upon herself to right her brother's wrongs and save him alive. She wasn't at all sure how this would play out. Not that she was expecting much. When Roy had told her that he had stolen some girl's purse she had understandably been pissed. Because there was a big difference from shoplifting and petty theft to rushing up on a girl and stealing her designer and goodie filled handbag. Secondly, as having been mugged before she couldn't believe her brother would do something like that to somebody. Yeah, they had it hard. And it had been that way their entire life but that didn't excuse Roy's behavior and his attitude. And it had only gotten worse when word got out that the chick he had robbed had been none other than Thea Merkulov. And when said word got around, what she really meant was that Roy's good friend Sin had warned them that the chick he had robbed was Thea Merkulov.
Roy had dropped that bomb over a bowl of cereal like it was nothing. When she knew on the inside he was freaking out. He had to be freaking out. He had better be freaking out. There weren't too many people in Starling City, and there was absolutely no one in The Glades, who didn't know who Thea was. And if you were going to rob someone, you probably shouldn't rob the daughter of the head of the west coast Russian mob. So, in her rush to save her brother's life, Felicity went to her mom's closet and grabbed the tight, red, backless mini dress, donned her best pair of heels, swapped her glasses for contacts, curled her hair, and headed to the warehouse district. After a cocktail, or two, of liquid courage she told the bartender who her brother was. And that was how she ended up here, sitting next to Tommy Merkulov. A flirtatious, mouthy, charming drunk. Who also happened to be Thea Merkulov's older brother. She kept telling herself to remain composed as she avoided the stare of Thea's other brother Oliver Queen.
"So, I heard your brother robbed my sister," Tommy said on a slur, with a smile, while tossing back another shot, "So I'm assuming that's why you got all dressed up and came down to my club."
"Well, that's like one of the reasons. I mean, it is the main reason," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on Tommy. From the corner of her eye she saw Oliver lean forward in her chair as she started talking, "Because, this is a nice club. Or so I've heard. I've never been here before. Partying sloppy drunk isn't really my thing," she laughed nervously, sparing a glance at the guys in suits who were standing, as if they were on guard, the party lights catching a glint of metal in the unbuttoned suit jacket of that one guy. Oh God, was that a gun? Feeling her palms sweat she immediately turned back to Tommy. Taking in his deceptively goofy expression, Felicity was suddenly able to silently articulate that she was in a locked room with a group of big men she did not know. A group of scary big men she did not know. A group of armed and dangerous scary big men she did not know. And because now she was even more nervous she just kept talking.
"Not that you like sloppy drunks or that you are a sloppy drunk. Because I have no idea how much you drink besides the couple of shots you've downed in like the last five minutes," Tommy's smile faded and a dark look ran across his face. Felicity reached out to apologetically touch his shoulders but then retracted and leaned away from him instead, her eyes flitting between the brothers. "Not that it's a judgment. Because I try not to judge people who can make me disappear. Which is why, I'm-. This isn't about me, it's about my…brother. And so…Yeah, I'm sorry. I babble when I get nervous."
Tommy sat his shot down on the table next to him and leaned around her to talk to his brother, in what she assumed to be Russian. Tommy did most of the talking, Oliver's responses were mostly just head nods and what seemed like terse replies in her opinion. Not that she could be sure. But something between the two of them had been decided. If Oliver taking another gulp of his drink, leaning back against the expensive couch, and throwing his arm across the back of it was any indication. He stared at her again before slowly drawing his eyes from the toes of her heels to her widened eyes. Felicity felt goosebumps appear atop her goosebumps because even if he had only just looked at her, it had felt like he had touched her. When he spoke to Tommy, again in Russian, he kept his eyes on her. His voice was slow, smooth, languid, and the timbre of it tinged with a bored annoyance. She jumped a bit, startled when everyone else in the room laughed at whatever he had said. She was unsure how anything said in that tone of voice could be thought of as funny. She was sure they were all ragging on the blonde girl who looked like a deer in headlights. Her heartbeat increased and the thought that she might die whispered across the forefront of her brain for a minute…or two. Thoughts of her impending doom were cut short when Tommy got up, to pour himself another drink. In his gray suit, he was a handsome devil, charming, and approachable. He leaned against the wall, sipping his drink, and staring up at Felicity through long dark eyelashes
"Look gorgeous, I love my sister. Always have. So, you can understand how ticked off I might be if she's walking, minding her own business, and some asshole steals from her. I don't even have words for how livid my father was. And my brother, well…Oliver has a tendency not to use his words. However, I can see that you love your brother and that's the reason you're in my club rambling like a nervous twit. What I need to know is how much do you love your brother."
Eyebrows furrowing, Felicity bravely snuck a peek at Oliver again. He looked like Russian mafia she thought. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit and a collared white shirt. He swirled his drink in his hand and offhandedly took a sip. Even though he looked completely disinterested, his jaw was tense and she noticed that the thumb and forefinger of his right hand were rubbing against each other, like a twitch almost. He caught her staring at him and he smirked, tilting his head before saying something in Russian again. Her eyes bounced back and forth between the brothers as they spoke and bit her tongue to keep herself from interjecting.
"Miss Smoak," Tommy began, "my brother says your brother is blessed to still be breathing. And if you want him to stay that way we need something from you."
Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear ran up Felicity's spine and she shivered. She wasn't sure what she possibly had to offer but she knew it wasn't anything good. Worst case scenarios were plowing through her mind at rapid speed and death seemed like a viable alternative to most of them. Suddenly, in that dress, she felt far from confident and closer to exposed. And with every second that passed it was becoming abundantly clear that mercy for her idiot kid brother wouldn't be achieved simply by her doe eyed pleas and anxious ramblings. Deep down she had known she would have to exchange something but in her haste, she hadn't given any thought to what that might be. How far was she willing to go to see this through? She was almost ashamed to be asking herself that. Because her family was everything to her.
Felicity had never really known her father. He had left right before her sixth birthday and she didn't remember much about him. Just that he was smart. Roy's dad hadn't even stuck around long enough to know that Donna, their mother, was even pregnant. Their mom had done the best she could with what she was but it was Felicity who was always making sure they had basic food instead of stale bread, Felicity who reminded Donna that bills were due on the 1st and 15th of every month. With a vapid and somewhat clueless, but loving and amiable, mother who was a beauty school dropout turned stripper turned cocktail waitress, Felicity had spent most of her childhood watching out for her little brother. Some would even say that she had even been more of a mother. They had moved back to Donna's hometown of Starling when she was in junior high. While Donna floated from loser to loser to loser, guys that simply showed her children all the ways a man can fail, Felicity worked her butt off at school. She was determined not to end up like her mother and by the time she was nineteen, she was on scholarship at SCU as a computer science major. And just when her life had finally looked like it was headed in the right direction, her mom had hooked up with another major loser. Except this time she had been caught mulling drugs for him. Donna got sentenced to fourteen months, which left no one to look after an 11-year-old Roy. So, Felicity did what any other sister would have done. She left school to work full time and take care of her brother. Before she knew it, she was twenty-five. Twenty-five, unemployed, sleeping on her mom's couch, and wearing her mom's dress while she sat in a club and worried about drying at the hands of the Russian mob. This decision had been born out of the fact that she had been taking care of everything and everybody her whole life. So how far was she willing to go? And the answer was simple. As far as was necessary.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resigning herself to her fate. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, bent over to pour herself a shot, leaned back against the leather sofa and coyly looked over her shot glass at both brothers. Then she asked, "What do you need me to do?" Tommy laughed. Oliver didn't. He gave a quick nod and she watched all the big, scary, armed and dangerous guys file out of the room. She threw her shot back and fought the urge to roll her eyes when he spoke in Russian again. It was unnerving that he refused to speak English to her.
"We heard you're pretty talented with a computer," Tommy said, catching her so off guard that she actually choked on her second shot. She sputtered, reaching for a napkin and dabbing at her mouth, her bright red lipstick leaving its mark on the pristine cloth. Her eyebrows furrowed and she cleared her throat before speaking.
"Yeah…"
"Good," he said, turning to his brother to say something in Russian. He sat his drink down on the table in front of her and made a show of checking his cuff links and the buttons on his jacket, "We have in our possession a thumb drive that we need you to recover data from."
"What?"
This was not what she was expecting. As shocked as she was, she couldn't help but to feel relief sink into her bones. This was so much better than what she thought she was going to offer up.
"Calm down Miss Smoak," Tommy continued, "We know you're a hacker. Don't bother to deny it, your juvie file says otherwise. If you cooperate you'll live, your brother will live, and you can go on with your life as if this was all just a giant misunderstanding. But if you don't…well, I don't really have to state the obvious do I Miss Smoak," he asked, picking up the glass bottle of expensive alcohol and leveling her with a look that was just as serious as it was entertained. When she shook her head no, he simply saluted his brother and left the room. The blonde spared Oliver a glance. He was still staring at her, sitting in his chair, looking both curious and condescending.
"Um…so," she began, popping her lips and looking around the room quizzically. And once she worked up enough nerve to speak, even with the alcohol, he stood up from his chair and walked across the room. She followed his stride, noting how tall and imposing he was, still staring when he stopped after reaching the door.
"Are you coming Miss Smoak?"
Stunned by the lilt of his voice more than the fact that he had actually spoken, she blinked. Her mouth opening and closing before she could deliver a quiet mumble. She stood slowly from the couch, stumbling in her heels as she approached. Wincing a bit as he eyed her uncoordinated feet. When she reached him, he didn't open the door like she thought he would have. Instead he reached out, threw his arm around her waist, yanked her towards him, and absorbed her gasp of shock with his mouth. His hand came up to cup her neck, the hold almost bruising. And the kiss was hard. Rough. Wait a second, was he kissing her? Was she kissing him back? That was not her hand clutching to the back of his neck. She did not make that sound. That was not his hand squeezing her so hard she felt like she couldn't breathe. Wait, wait, wait- what is happening here? He pulled away first, hands coming up to hold her jaw in place as his eyes roamed over her face. He said something in Russian again, then he took her hand in his, opened the door and led her out of the room, down the stairs, through the club, past the intoxicating gyrating bodies and the ear-piercing sound of the drum beat, and out the front door where Starling City's elite were coming in and out of the doors and camera flashes were going off. He stopped in front of a motorcycle before handing her a helmet. He still didn't speak as he started the engine but he didn't have to. She climbed on behind him, clutching him as he took off. She didn't know where he was taking her but she knew that she was going to kill Roy.
