Title: Hostile Territory
Word Count: 7789
Notes: I feel like I've been working on this one for forever. I had the idea almost immediately after seeing the prompt, but getting it to fruition has been a little more difficult. It took a few twists and turns I didn't plan on.
As a side note, I've made a few changes to "Safe Haven" to match some of the things I did here. Originally, it sounded like Oliver had never encountered the Metal Heads before, but... well, that wasn't going to work. I don't think you'll even notice them, but for the sake of continuity, I'd suggest going back and reading Safe Haven before starting this.
As always, I'd love to hear what y'all think, provided you have the time. If not, hey, thanks for being awesome enough to read this anyway. In the meantime, I'm going to be finishing up a few reviews that have been sitting around my inbox. ;) Thank you so much!
Felicity Smoak is certain about a lot of things, but there are two truths she holds constant in the world above all others: she is damn good at her job and her boss is a slimy son of a bitch. She hates to say it about Robert Queen because Starling City holds him up as some sort of hero, but she also knows that people don't become powerful without learning to swim with sharks. And, when one swims with sharks day in and day out, she knows that one has a tendency to become a shark to stay alive.
But she wouldn't call him a shark—not really. She thinks of him more like a snake. He's never been anything but polite to her in their years of working together (even when she hasn't been so polite herself), but something about the way his eyes linger a little too long over her form gives her pause. Something tells her that Robert Queen is a man far too accustomed to taking what he wants, and Felicity understands how easy it is to get drunk on that kind of power. Which is certainly none of her business, provided that he remembers he has a place, too—even if it comes with fewer strings than her own. Boss or no, if he makes a pass, she's going to suggest a better place for him to store that cactus on his desk.
A few of the other power station employees are frantic about Mr. Queen's increasingly common visits, but Felicity doesn't see that she has anything to worry about. Sure, the city's power grid is failing because of the severe Eco shortage-that's old news—but she's optimized the system several times in her two-year tenure. They're running on less Eco than ever, which just adds another day they'll have power to the city walls to keep the monsters out. Felicity is the one with her fingers in the dam to keep it from bursting, and, in her opinion, that's the best job security there is.
Besides, Robert Queen isn't nearly as scary as everyone seems to think.
Several hours into a long segment of code, a voice finally breaks through her concentration. "Felicity, can I have a moment of your time?" he asks, and she has to bite down on her lip to prevent a growl of frustration. She's almost done, damn it, and she's working on a very nice headache for her trouble.
It's not really a question; when Robert Queen asks for attention, it's more a demand than a request. But, well, Felicity isn't just anyone. "I am in the middle of a code I've been writing for five hours and I'm almost done," she answers with more than a hint of irritation in her voice. "The only acceptable reason to interrupt me right now is if the walls are falling. Which they aren't because this place would be on high alert. So give me two minutes."
She can hear him drop into one of the empty technician chairs along the console, and she can just picture him steepling his fingers to stare at her with a look that reminds her very well that she was snippy with a man who controls not just her job, but the entire city. But Felicity doesn't care because he pays her to do this, to improve code in failing systems and optimize Eco usage. And she's very good at both.
Finally, the last keystroke falls into place, and the system looks better than ever. Satisfied, she turns around only to find something that makes no sense at all. Because, while she's more than familiar with Robert Queen asking for status updates, there's nothing to prepare her for what she sees next. Mr. Queen is standing off to one side, but the creaking chair holds someone else entirely, a man with darker hair but the same jawline as his father.
Instead of looking bored or irritated by her attitude, Oliver Queen is draped across the rickety chair with an ease that looks like it came straight off of one of the holo-board advertisements in the wharf's shopping district. And while Robert Queen isn't exactly hard to look at, Oliver is one of those people who are impossible to look away from. He looks more hardened now than he did in the last family photo she saw, but she imagines that six months fighting breaches in the city wall will do that to a person.
The last breach had been a nightmare, with some of the mutant creatures in the swamp breaking into the city and causing trouble. Metal Heads, they'd called them, lizard-like creatures with glowing gems on their heads and a thirst for human blood. That had been a very dark time for everyone; Felicity had slept maybe two hours in every forty-eight trying to restore the shield walls. For reasons no one ever understood, though, Oliver Queen had taken up the mantle and joined the Guard when the walls started crashing down, and he'd been one of the reasons why the outer walls were still standing. The last time there was a breach of this magnitude, they'd had to fall back, allow the city to dwindle down in size and leave all outside its new borders to die.
And Oliver Queen made sure that didn't happen this time.
Her eyes flick away from him and back to her boss. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Queen?" she asks, ignoring the presence of the younger Queen until someone bothers to make introductions. It's not her place to ask, and she thinks she's already pushed that envelope a little too far today.
He motions to Queen the younger. "This is my son, Oliver," he says, with a hint of both pride and complete disdain. "He's made the decision to join the family business and learn how this city runs." The tight smile that looks like he's in pain makes her think that not only was this not Oliver's decision, he'd rather be anywhere else in the city right now. "Oliver, this is Felicity Smoak, our most gifted technician. The reason that we can run on so little Eco is primarily because of her efforts." Turning back to her, he continues, "I was hoping you could explain how the power station works for the two of us today."
Felicity can read between the lines, and she so is not pleased with this subtext. Crossing her arms, she blurts, "I have five different sensors to monitor today because they've been glitchy," she starts slowly, building steam as she continues. "The Eco level gauge is on the fritz, but everyone is too busy to take the time for something that minor. An entire section of the wall is leaking eco, but no one will go out to fix it with the attacks this week. The defense turrets are glitchy again and the last time they took out a citizen. Then there's an entire city block that is without water because some asshole wrecked his zoomer in the water main. And that does not even begin to describe the headache of the Eco depository missing several thousand pounds of Eco that I have to account for in our reports somehow." She crosses her arms. "And all of those things are more vitally important than playing tour guide for you, Robert."
After playing her words back to herself, she realizes that the whole stop-pushing-the-envelope thing? Not happening today.
The mayor's eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a thin smile. Robert Queen is one step worse than a man with power; he's a man who knows he has power. "While I appreciate your concern for this city, Miss Smoak," he starts, his voice cold enough to freeze Hell, "I suggest that you be more careful with your tone in the future." The corner of his mouth goes up in a sinister, ironic smile, and Felicity decides that she is so going to be fired today. "While you are one of my most valuable employees in this city, it's been my experience that everyone outlives their usefulness eventually. You show a lot of promise, and I'd hate for you to reach that point."
Felicity has to hand it to the man: it causes a special kind of dread to roll around in her stomach for a moment. Only Mr. Queen can compliment her and still manage to make it feel like an insult and a threat all at once. Before she can flounder into an apology, he warms slightly from absolute zero to continue, "I've been running this city for a long time, but I am not naïve enough to think I'll live forever."
He motions to the computers and monitoring system. "While I understand that you feel your time is better spent keeping these systems operating, this city can't survive with just your work, Miss Smoak. It also needs someone to lead it." He places his hand on his son's shoulder, and Oliver flinches at the contact. Felicity can't even blame him. "And that will be my son."
He starts to say something else, but stops as he looks as his expensive Rolex. "It seems that your impertinence as taken up more of my time than I expected," he notes at Felicity, as if she's supposed to give a damn about it. If Mr. Queen isn't going to fire her, she's not likely to change her ways; just because he controls the city doesn't give him an excuse to treat her like the muck that comes out of the water pipes in the Glades.
"I need to attend a meeting at the palace." No subtlety there. "Oliver, you will stay with Miss Smoak. At her convenience"—the words cause her eyebrows to shoot up to her hairline—"you will take a tour of the facility and learn why it's so crucial to the city's continued survival." With a hint of warning aimed at his son, he tells her, "I will check in with you tomorrow, Felicity."
Meaning I am going to grill you to make sure my son is doing what I expect. More importantly, it's back to Felicity, meaning her earlier outburst is forgiven. If he thinks that's going to make her demure, though, he's sorely mistaken. "Of course, Mr. Queen," she answers smoothly. But just to remind him of his place, she adds, "You're always welcome in my power station." He might have his name on it, but the moment he asked her to take control, it became hers. The only way he could change that would be to fire her.
She expects it to piss him off again, but instead the head honcho just throws her that polished, completely fake smile that he occasionally gives her when he's impressed. Without another word, he walks out, sending several of her employees and interns scurrying to clear a path for him.
Expecting nothing but silence from the younger Queen still with her, Felicity turns back to her work, uninterested in making small talk with a man who has no desire to be here. To her surprise, a smooth tenor asks her, "What's your secret?" Felicity turns, brows knitting together. "You're on my father's good side," Oliver clarifies for her. "How did you manage that?"
His question only manages to further her confusion. "What part of that conversation made you think your father actually likes me?" Felicity retorts, arching an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure he just threatened to fire me." Maybe being on the battlefield for half a year scrambled his brain a little. One too many hits with a Metal Head, maybe.
If anything, her response seems to amuse him, but it's hard to tell; his expression doesn't really change out of that generally-displeased-with-life frown, but his eyes brighten a little. "Right," Mr. Queen answers, as though she's proved his point for him. "He only threatened to fire you. The last time I spoke to him like that, he cut me off and kicked me out of the house." His words are so detached that he might be talking about someone else. "Made sure that no one would hire me or rent to me until I came whimpering back."
Uncertain of what else to say Felicity blurts the first thing that comes to mind: "You don't seem like the type to grovel." She isn't just saying it to be nice; the man before her seems a little more... tenacious than that. She has no idea what kind of person Oliver was before his six-month stint on the wall, but the one before her isn't one who can be forced into submission.
Finally she gets a clear, readable reaction from Oliver Queen: one corner of his mouth lifts upward ever so slightly at her words. If she wasn't watching for it, she probably never would have noticed. "How do you think I ended up fighting a war?" he counters, leaning back in his chair. He looks at ease, relaxed, but beyond the surface, there's a tension in his shoulders and he seems to be portraying a nervous tic, rubbing his thumb against the side of his index finger.
Without warning, Felicity hears herself say, "You joined the Guard to keep your dad from winning an argument?" She cringes at her words before tacking on, "I mean, wow. That's very..." She has no idea how to end that sentence without offending him, instead wrapping a dark strand of hair around her index finger absently. Apparently Oliver isn't the only one with a nervous gesture.
He doesn't seem to mind her words. "Stupid?" he supplies as an ending to her statement. "Demented? Or how about 'stubborn as a yakkow?'" The smile on his face is starting to grow, as if he's enjoying their ridiculous little conversation. He doesn't seem to mind putting himself down, either, and Felicity thinks Oliver might have had plenty of experience doing that.
His obvious teasing brings out Felicity's playful side as well, and she can feel a smirk playing at her own black lips. "I was going to say 'strong-willed,'" she insists, though it was truthfully the last thought on her mind. "Or 'tenacious.'"
"No, you weren't," Oliver argues without missing a beat. "I might have only met you a few moments ago, Miss Smoak, but I've seen enough to know better."
She makes a face at the way he addresses her. "It's Felicity," she assures him with a grimace. "The only person who calls me 'Miss Smoak' is your father—and only when he's pissed." His lips twitch upward a little at that, and she admits slowly, "And I might have been thinking 'skull thick as a Metal Head's but twice as pretty.'" She winces at her words. "Not that I'm making a pass at you," Felicity clarifies. "I'm not."
Not wanting his comments on her runaway mouth, Felicity changes the subject. "I see no point in wasting my time and yours by showing you around the power station," she declares, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you want to learn about this place, I'm willing to answer questions, but if you don't really want to learn, I'm not going to bother." His brow furrows, and she rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, Oliver. It's obvious to aliens that this was your father's idea."
As she realizes that she just called him by name, Felicity rushes to add, "I hope it was okay that I called you 'Oliver' instead of"—she holds her hands up in a gesture that's meant to suggest authority—"'Mr. Queen,' but that latter just kind of reminds me of your father and I just kind of think of you in my head as Oliver."
Before he can come to the wrong conclusion, she clarifies, "Not that I think about you a lot or anything. It's just that once your father introduced you, it was weird having a 'Mr. Queen' and a 'Mr. Queen,' so I just sort of differentiated by calling you Oliver in my head." He's fully grinning now, and she can't resist adding, "And you probably didn't need that clarification."
"Oliver is fine," he assures her with a breathy sound that could almost be a quiet laugh. It feels like a major achievement; Felicity gets the impression that he doesn't do that much. "I don't want to get in the way of what you're doing here." Something seems to brighten his eyes, and then he adds, "But I think I could help you instead. You mentioned something about a section of the wall leaking Eco?"
All she can do for a moment is gape at him; even she doesn't remember saying that. "A portion of the wall by Dead Town is screwed up," Felicity answers, referencing the area that used to be part of Starling City before the walls fell back. "There have been six attacks over there this week, so no one wants to risk their neck fixing it." She shrugs. "I would do it, but I wouldn't last five minutes outside the walls. I can't even fire a laser pistol."
"Dead Town is pretty tame close to the wall," Oliver replies as he studies her computer screen, as though thinking aloud. "The more dangerous Metal Heads stay away from the old city." He looks to her, his expression turning grim again. "I could get out there, but I don't know how to fix anything." Slowly, the next words roll off his tongue as though he's weighing each one: "I can guide you out there."
Felicity laughs, but when his expression never wavers, it dies on her tongue. "You might be able to handle yourself out there," she says after a moment, "but I'd be a liability. Do you know how much tech I'd have to carry? It would slow me down to the speed of a turtle running in peanut butter. Except I don't run."
Eyes lighting up again, Oliver replies easily, "I can cover you." He shrugs. "I spent months out there on those walls, Felicity." No one has ever managed to say her name like that; it's almost a caress. "I have most of the Dead Town mapped out in my head. If you can point me to the leak, I can get you there and back in one piece."
"What about the Metal Heads?" she blurts.
To her surprise, he only smiles. "They look like creatures from your nightmares, but they're easy to kill if you know where their weak points are. And Metal Head Gems are considered a strong form of currency in the Bazaar." His head tilts ever so slightly. "If we collected enough of them, we could pay for repairs to that water main you talked about." Oliver rises to his feet, extending a hand in offer. "I'm willing to go outside the walls one more time if you are."
Really, how can she say no to an offer like that? Robert might think his son is a waste of space, but Felicity is starting to think he's every bit as intelligent as most of her genius-IQ colleagues, albeit in a different way. He's a solutions guy. Felicity can work with that. Groaning, she takes the extended hand, allowing him to pull her out of the chair. "I already regret this," she declares, "but it's the best offer I've had all day."
Winking, he replies, "Gather your tech and meet me outside at the gates in two hours."
Staring up at the giant gate hatch, Felicity readjusts her tech again, wishing each piece was about five pounds lighter. Either that, or the gate was faster. It creaks and whines as the hatch twists in place to open. Finally the pressure unseals. Leaving city safe zone, a computerized voice helpfully informs her. It sounds a lot like Keira, the voice of her computer at work. Maybe her father—the wall system's original designer—used the same voice samples. Outer city access requires yellow clearance or higher, it continues. All civilians please turn back now for your own safety.
"That's a cheery thought," Felicity mutters as she swipes her purple pass over the scanner. The display pops up her name, picture, and ID number. A thought dawns on her: yellow clearance is all anyone needs to leave the city? Of the six security clearances, yellow is fifth in terms of access. Generally only soldiers have an orange pass, the one less than yellow. On the other hand, her purple pass gets her into anywhere except the palace itself—she'd need Oliver or Robert's shiny red passes for that.
When the gate finally pulls open, Oliver is already there, leaning against one wall of the massive, circular space. He's in heavier gear than the last time: a pair of goggles perched on his head, a long-sleeved shirt that has built-in elbow guards, thick pants with knee pads, and boots that look like they could survive an Eco reactor malfunction. A heavy utility belt is slung across his waist, weighted down on one side by a handgun and a badass knife, and a modified pack with an attached quiver sits at his feet. Sitting atop it is a custom bow that makes her want to roll her eyes. As if he's the big, bad Arrow that prowls the streets and brings justice back to the city.
The snort of humor dies before she can really release it. Part of her can see it: Oliver Queen, the quiet defender of the poor and preyed upon. After all, most of the soldiers that died during the siege were from the Glades, eager to fight for the massive pay that few of them ever lived to see. Oliver must have fought side-by-side with those men and women. He must have heard those stories of poverty and horrid living conditions, so pitiful that fighting Metal Heads seemed like a better alternative. He learned to understand their lives, only to watch them die. And now he's interested in repairing the walls he fought to save, and maybe improving conditions in the Glades.
Him being the Arrow would explain everything.
As the gate hatch seals behind her, Felicity stumbles, dropping her tablet. She examines it for damage before sliding off the welding pack on her back to join it. After glancing up to find a nonchalant Oliver watching her with a smile, she announces, "I think I already hate you."
To his credit, Oliver only offers a breathy laugh. "It's going to get worse before it gets better," is his reply. Comforting thought. He frowns as his eyes rake over her clothing. At least, Felicity hopes it's her clothing. "You can't wear that," he says in a gentle tone, nodding to her work attire of black jeans, dark tank top, and flats. "Conditions out there are harsh. You'll need heavier wear." He motions to a set of boots, almost hidden behind his pack. "I thought you might. The boots are yours and there's a set of clothes in the bag. I suggest you change into them." With that, he turns toward the wall behind him, closing his eyes.
Felicity blinks at him several times before realizing the obvious truth: "Right here? Right now?" She takes his silence for an answer. "Seriously? What am I supposed to do if someone walks in?" The idea of flashing anyone isn't really appealing.
"You should probably hurry before anyone does," is his helpful advice.
"Yep, I definitely hate you already," is her biting response, scrambling over to the pack. At least it makes him laugh; Felicity thinks he has few opportunities to do so. She pulls out the set of clothes with a reluctant nod of approval at the color. Black—her favorite.
With one last look at Oliver to make sure his attention is still focused on the wall, Felicity strips off her shirt and pulls on the heavier one. The fabric scratches and she's probably going to sweat her entire body weight in it, but she zips it up to her neck anyway. She's even faster changing out of her pants. The new ones feel like they weigh at least three pounds more and are a little long for her. She tucks the pants legs in her new boots, which seal just under her knees like second skin.
Red fabrics at the bottom of the pack catch her attention as she adjusts the heavy utility belt over her hips. "What are these?" she asks. Oliver starts to turn, but hesitates, and she rolls her eyes. "I'm dressed." When he turns, she points down in the bag, and he pulls out the items.
Slowly, Oliver unwraps one piece of red cloth, sticking the other items in his back pocket. "This," he explains, holding it up, "is to cover your mouth when the pollution affects you." In a slow motion, he ties the bandanna around her neck, leaving it hanging around her collar. He pulls another out of his pocket and makes one of his own to match.
Out of his back pocket, he pulls a pair of goggles and a red wrap. "Sometimes the dust kicks up," is his explanation. He offers her a red, circular piece. "That's to keep your hair out of your face."
After situating both of them on her head, she gathers her tech up again. When she turns to him, Oliver already has her clothes in his pack, slinging it over his shoulder in a fluid motion. Piercing blue eyes meet hers as he states, "We're going into the wild now, Felicity. This is my world, so I'm going to ask you to follow my lead. You stay behind me at all times. Don't wander off. Don't touch anything that isn't man-made. If you get light-headed, let me know—the air is different out there." All traces of good humor fall from his face. "And if you see me running, try to keep up. I'd hate to have to drag you."
"That's not cryptic at all," she deadpans. Oliver's expression never wavers, and she scoffs. "It's just an old part of Starling City, Oliver. Maybe with weird monsters, but it shouldn't be a deathtrap."
His laugh is devoid of all humor. "It' might have been city once," is his reply, "but it's just as wild as the Wasteland now." Felicity swallows; her dad took her out to the Wasteland once, and she still has nightmares about it. "The Metal Heads took our pollution and muck and modeled it into something they can thrive in." He stares at the gate that will allow them into Dead Town. "It was ours once, but it's hostile territory now." The corner of Oliver's mouth lifts as he turns to look at her. "Which is probably how my father feels about the power station now."
Shrugging a shoulder, Felicity pulls on her welding pack. "He can have the rest of the city," she answers. "The power station is mine." As she picks up her tablet, she realizes the docking clamp would slide onto her belt perfectly. After testing it, she nods once.
After one last glance, Oliver picks up his bow and slides a green pass across the scanner. Green—two steps below hers. Felicity frowns at it. "Where's your red pass?" she blurts.
All of his previous humor falls from his face. "My father disowned me, remember?" is his reply. Holding up the green pass between his fingers, he stands a little straighter. "It might not be much, but I earned this." The hydraulics on the gate start to open, and he walks over to her. "Show me where this leak is."
Unclipping her tablet, Felicity switches to her map, glad the locator beacons in the Dead Town are still active. She points to the section of the wall on her map, and Oliver stares over her shoulder as he pulls on a pair of gloves. "It's about five klicks out from the gate," she answers, pointing to it. "The tricky part is that it's about thirty feet up from the ground."
He turns to her, brow furrowing. "You couldn't get anyone to repair the wall five klicks from the gate?" he asks. "That's barely any distance at all." Shaking his head, he adds, "I'd hate to see what you'd have to go through for an Eco leak twenty klicks out."
"Twenty klicks is easy," Felicity replies with a snort. "They take the Titan suit out. The Metal Heads can't penetrate it and can scale walls. The problem is that it costs more Eco to fuel the Titan than a twenty-foot section of my shield wall requires." She rolls her eyes. "For anything less than ten klicks, it's too expensive to take it out. Eco usage is higher in the first twenty minutes it takes to stabilize the internal core for the pilot."
"We should start training soldiers for this kind of work," Oliver replies, his tone thoughtful as the doors start to part. "Anything less than one hundred klicks round-trip can be navigated in six hours. Estimate another two for repairs, and it's still manageable in a day." He turns to her. "It's not advisable to spend the night outside the walls, but if you take a group of three to trade out night watch, even that's possible."
She nods once. "You should pitch that to your dad. It would save us a fortune in Eco for the Titan suit."
His laugh is bitter. "You pitch the idea. He doesn't listen to me."
The doors part then, and Felicity takes a few steps forward. She grew up in this outer section of the city, played in the crumbling streets. She watched as the new wall sealed it out—and everything else beyond the new border. In some ways, it's a homecoming to her.
A hand on her shoulder stops her. Oliver says nothing, but shakes his head at her. Instead, he nocks the bow with a single arrow, stepping through the gate. With slow steps, Felicity joins him, adjusting her welding pack over her shoulders.
Instantly her stomach drops, heavier than the clunky boots on her feet. She might have grown up in the Waterfront District, but it's unrecognizable to her now. The sand under her feet is mixed with building façades, the water lapping across the beach yellow and putrid. Most of the buildings she knew well are now broken, displayed in single lines of architecture rising up to the sky. In the distance, she can barely make out the remnants of the old tower, just below the second, green sun.
Something clamps onto her shoulder, shaking it firmly. Felicity jumps, turning to look into the gentle eyes of Oliver Queen. "Are you feeling light-headed?" he asks, tone low.
"Not for the reasons you're concerned about," she mutters back. The world she was born into is gone, and all that's left is this… disaster. She understands why Robert Queen gave the order—the walls were unsustainable as they were. Felicity had been telling him that for years. But now she regrets those words, staring at thousands of miles of city left to rot and crumble.
Haven't they lost enough already?
"Felicity?" Oliver calls, his tone gentle.
She shakes her head to clear it before taking a long breath through her nose. Not the best idea, considering it smells like garbage, death, and old feet. "I'm fine," Felicity assures him with a certainty she doesn't feel, wiping away the wet spot on her cheek. "Let's fix this godforsaken leak before this smell locks into my hair."
"You don't have to do that, you know," Oliver assures her in a quiet tone. He points with the arrow tip to the spire in the distance. "I grew up over there." For the first time, Felicity realizes that Oliver is probably every bit as affected as she is by seeing his entire life in tatters. "This place… it isn't ours anymore. It helps if you think about it as the wild and not the last standing walls of your home."
Oliver waits until she squares her shoulders to remind her, "Stay with me."
Normally she'd try to argue, but since the entire place screams danger, Felicity follows his every step like a second shadow. She watches the way his eyes dart around him every few steps, how there's a new set to his shoulders and a new purpose to his strides. For the first time, she understands how Oliver Queen—born with a silver spoon—survived the siege when so many others didn't.
He thrives in the chaos.
It should scare her, but instead Felicity finds it a comfort. Who better to navigate her to the Eco leak than a man who loves the challenge? That desire for a challenge is the same thing that drove her to be one of the best power techs this city has ever seen. She feels like she was born for that purpose. Maybe Oliver was born for this.
Oliver pulls to a halt so quickly that she nearly topples into him, and he lifts a fist as if to give her silent directions. He might as well have explained the inner workings of a mod gun for all the use it does him, but Felicity stays stock still, waiting.
It's a few heartbeats later when she can finally hear it: something crunching in the sand. Just as it starts to come closer, Oliver looses an arrow. There's a piercing screech in the distance and a thud. He immediately reaches into his quiver for another arrow, nocking is before starting forward.
"Metal heads travel in packs," is all he says in explanation as he walks toward it. "If this one is by itself, it's nearly dead." Oliver turns back to Felicity. "And it wasn't moving well—looked like it was limping." After a moment of hesitation, he pulls a pistol from his belt. She backs away from the weapon, but he forces it into her hands.
"Just in case," is his explanation. "You don't want to be out here without a way to defend yourself." He adjusts it in her hand, pointing it toward the barren landscape. After flipping a switch on the side, he adds, "This is the safety. It's off now. If you see something move, shoot it. The battery is fully charged, so you have at least two hundred rounds." He takes two steps before turning back to add with a playful smile, "Don't shoot me."
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted," she deadpans, earning a chuckle. The grip feels hot and heavy under her hands, but Felicity supposes it's all in her head. Wrapping both hands around it, she points the gun at the ground, staying behind Oliver as he eases toward the Metal Head carcass.
Each step seems like it takes forever. She jumps at every sound, waiting for one of the creatures to pop out from behind a bit of rubble, but they never come. The hair on the back of Felicity's neck stands on end as they close in on the creature. When they get close enough, she frowns: a deep blue, lizard-like creature lies in front of them, not much bigger than the croca-dog she had as a kid. Except Ishmael didn't have five rows of needle-like teeth, a forked tongue, or a row of bone protruding from its head like a crown.
Even though the Metal Head is only recently dead, it smells like rotting flesh already. Oliver nudges its back leg with his boot, and only then does Felicity notice the bite around its thigh: five rows of needle-like teeth slicing down it, as though this one had managed to escape.
Whatever Oliver sees causes him to frown. "Metal Heads don't usually attack one another unless food supply is low." His eyes scan the beach for a moment before pointing to a three-toed track in the sand. "There are fish in the water, and that's a recent swamp lizard track."
He stares at it a moment longer before shaking his head as he kneels over the Metal Head, using the tip of his arrow to pry a yellow, glowing gem from the monster's crown. The moment he does, another—larger and walking on two legs—charges forward with lightning speed, making a shrill sound in the back of its throat. Jumping at the sound, Felicity trains her gun on it and pulls the trigger, but it misses the mark by at least two feet.
Oliver's arrow does not.
It collapses as soon as the arrow slices through it, embedding into the wall behind the Metal Head. To his credit, the soldier finishes pulling the skull gem from its place before rising to his feet and sliding it in his pack. Felicity half expects him to ruin the moment by chastising her aim, but instead he asks, "Do you have gloves?"
Trying to make sense of his question, she can only nod once. "Good," Oliver replies. A second later, he releases the giant knife from his belt. He offers it to her, holding out the hilt for her to take. "Put them on and remove that skull gem. I'll cover you."
After a moment of patting through her pockets, she finds the pair of leather gloves, pulling them on before taking the knife. "Why gloves?" she asks, closing in on the monster. It smells like rotting flesh on top of the same general armpit smell from the rest of the area, which is lovely enough to make her gag when she kneels over it.
"Metal Heads coat their skin with something to keep it moist," he explains as she shoves the knife between the thick ridge of bone and the yellow gem. "I don't know what it is, but it's toxic to humans. It can make you sick for a few weeks—if you're lucky."
Felicity barely hears him as she focuses on the gem, working the knife back and forth between the crown of its head and the gem. There's a sickening feeling of sliding through soft tissue like butter and then the yellow orb falls to the ground. As she rises to her feet, she holds up her prize, the gem as large as her fist.
After he takes the skull gem from her, she frowns down at the two carcasses. "Oliver," she starts softly, "how smart are these things?" His eyebrows only knit together, and Felicity motions between the two Metal Heads. "The small one was out in the open after being attacked by another Metal Head," she explains. "You said yourself that didn't make any sense. When you tried to retrieve that skull gem, a bigger one came out of nowhere." The hairs on the back of her neck stand up again. "Do you think it could have set up an ambush?"
A crease appears between Oliver's eyebrows as he studies the scene. It takes her a moment to realize the same thought has occurred to him—and he doesn't like it any more than she does. "I don't know," he finally admits. "But what I do know is that we have a whole new set of reasons to say on guard."
After a moment of deliberation, he decides, "We should push these into the water. The carcasses will attract scavengers—bigger and meaner Metal Heads." Felicity swallows as she stares down at the bigger of the two; it's at least four feet tall. Bigger and meaner Metal Heads aren't on the list of things she wants to deal with today. "If you can take the small one, I'll take the big one."
Metal Head body-dumping is definitely not going to become one of her favorite things. The stench is horrible, even the little guy weighs too much to lift, and it splashes into the swamp so hard that putrid, slimy water coats her hair. With only a short lament for a shower, she rushes to help Oliver, where he struggles with the other one.
After they finish, both of them rise to their feet, panting. Felicity starts to pull her welding pack over her shoulders again, but Oliver stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "Take a minute," he suggests, pointing to a short, broken pillar at just the right height to sit on. "We have plenty of light left and pushing too hard could be dangerous."
Dragging her pack behind her, Felicity mutters, "What isn't dangerous out here?"
Oliver laughs. "The air," he supplies helpfully. "The oxygen content is different than in the city, but it won't kill you."
Sighing, Felicity plops down onto the pillar. Oliver joins her, his knee knocking against hers. When she finally feels like she can breathe again, she asks the question she's been holding onto since she met him at the gates this afternoon: "So… did you decide to be the Arrow to help people, or is it just a way to get back at your dad?"
His head whips around to study her, expression hardening into a dark look. Felicity thinks she might be looking at the Arrow instead of Oliver Queen. "I've watched a lot of people die for six months of free Eco, Felicity," he answers after a long moment, a faraway expression in his eyes. She doesn't want to think about what nightmares he's reliving in his head. "I saw so many people killed in a war we were never going to win.
"And for what?" His laugh is bitter. "They died for the hope of something better, believing that their sacrifice would help to improve their families' lives. But my father chose to give up this district. Thousands died because they didn't make it to the walls in time. And the ones that did live in worse conditions than they did before the siege." He clenches his fist so hard it shakes. "So many people died—and they died for nothing."
Finally he shakes off the memories, meeting her eyes with an intensity that only he could manage. "That's why I decided to be the Arrow. I watched too much death and destruction and injustice out there on the walls." He snorts. "And when the war ended, the violence and death only continued on the streets. Everything I fought for—everything I believed in—was still happening in our streets. And I couldn't live in this city for one more second without trying to change it."
"It's like the world broke one day," Felicity murmurs in the wake of his words, "and you were the only one who noticed." His eyebrows shoot up, but Oliver nods slowly. "I know the feeling."
"I know you do," he replies. Felicity turns to him, and he shrugs with that lopsided smile. "Why do think I had an interest in the power station?" She can only gape at him as he answers his own question: "For months, the Eco in the more affluent parts of the city has been going missing. They've had outages and glitches. I've heard the city's elite talking about it."
He smiles. "Yet the Eco in the Glades has been more stable than ever. People who couldn't pay their Eco bills had power even after their service had been disconnected. The street lights are staying lit. The water is cleaner because the pumping station hasn't lost power." His head tilts to the side. "That Eco from the palace square had to be going somewhere—and someone had to divert it. They call him Overwatch." He smiles ruefully. "Since I thought you were one of my father's loyal supporters, so I assumed it was someone else."
Laughing, Oliver adds, "I changed my mind the moment I met you. No one would syphon Eco like that without you knowing about it. Not to mention that you aren't afraid to stand up for what you believe in." The way he says it is a compliment.
Felicity shrugs it away. "Do you know how much power that monstrosity of a palace pulls?" He shakes his head, but she expected that. She's probably one of the few who does. "An average of seven hundred ETUs per hour," she answers, using the traditional Eco-transfer unit measure. "That's down from the three thousand ETUs it pulled before I made it more Eco-efficient." A quick calculation in her head makes a bitter laugh leave her. "It pulls about a hundred and twenty thousand ETUs a week. The Glades use less than two hundred thousand a year." Grinning she adds, "So I did the Robin Hood thing: stole from the rich and gave to the poor."
"That's why I decided to trust you," Oliver replies. "When I had the idea to fix the leaking section of wall, I knew you'd leap at it, especially if I added an opportunity to help the Glades. This gave me a chance to talk to you without eyes on my every move. Even if it meant going outside the walls one more time." He removes his black glove, extending a hand for her to shake. "I need eyes in the city, and you need feet on the ground. I thought we might team up."
Normally a decision of this magnitude would take Felicity a lot of time and paper to weigh the pros and cons, but she slips off her glove and puts her hand in his. It's just as rough and callused as she expected, but his touch is gentle. "It would be an honor to help the Arrow," she answers.
"It would be an honor to help Overwatch," he counters without missing a beat.
A second later, he pulls on his gloves again, offering her a hand up. Felicity slips her own on before taking it. "I'm thinking we should take the high ground," Oliver states, but this time it isn't an order. This is him treating her as an equal. A partner. "It's less stable, but the Metal Heads up there won't be much bigger than the two we just faced and it gives me a better vantage point. Not to mention we need to get to higher ground to repair the wall, anyway."
"This is your element, not mine," she replies with a shrug. If he can put her on equal footing, she can do the same for him. "I'm not used to parkour-ing around the city like you are, but I'm willing to follow your lead out here." She grins as she slides on her welding pack. "The cyber jungle is mine, but the actual jungle is all yours."
He nods, though Felicity thinks he's trying to hide a smile. "Then stay with me."
She snorts. "I'm not likely to wander off, Oliver."
Notes: Monsters on Friday. ;)