Star City is dying. There is no way around it. Years spent fighting for this corrupt and wretched city had led to minimal positive impact, and worse still the crusade had taken its toll on Oliver Queen. Despite his hard 5 years prior to his return, he returned somewhat naïve in his everlasting quest for justice, of course he could "save his city" it was merely a factor of chasing down the names on the list. But that evolved to honouring Tommy's memory, then stopping Slade, Ras, Damien and then Chase. All he was rewarded with was more villains to deal with and more people to lose, and through this antagonising reality the archer came to the realisation the only emotion which would be perpetually bound to him was melancholy, despite all he had gained, the losses he had stomached burdened him with an agonising weight of suffering that few would endure, perhaps in the history of the world. But the archer's quest was not, by any means, boring.
Adrian Chase had revealed to Oliver that at his very heart he was psychotic. He was a killer, and he took relish in it. A madman walking into gunfights with a bow and some arrows. But what Chase failed to ascertain was that Oliver Queen was partial to torture. Take this moody and morose Star City night. It lacked the distinctive rain of Gotham and the glorious shine of Metropolis or even the lantern rays of Coast City but it had something which none of them had, beautiful silence. The silent night was screaming for something eventful to happen, and the archer was happy to oblige. A common thug was currently being chased by the Green Arrow. Panting and yelping as he sprang, lacking the grace of a ballerina, through the rooftops of the Glades. Oliver was annoyed.
He remarked "6 years of this and they still run".
A chirpy voice replied through the earpiece "Well you didn't need to announce yourself and let him run".
"This ends now" he replied. He nocked an arrow with speed and then fired it into the thug's left quadricep. It pierced his rectus femoris. The thug looked around frantically for an escape but found none. Like a cornered animal he resorted to his base primal instinct; to fight. But it was useless, the equivalent of putting a baby against the monster under its bed. The thug feebly transitioned his stumble into an overhand punch; Oliver effortlessly blocked it due to his muscle memory of his endless Wing Chun drills, he proceeded to grab the thug's wrist and snap kick at the man's right kneecap. It hyperextended and the thug fell to the floor screaming and clutching his knee.
"You fucking prick! I ain't never gonna walk properly now! I got kids to feed you green bastard!" the thug roared, at the archer.
Oliver pulled an arrow, menacingly, from his quiver and dropped his bow. "TALK, OR YOU NEVER WALK AGAIN!" he growled through the voice modulator of his suit. "Venom, I want a name".
"Fuck it man, this job ain't worth it, dude's name is Bane, he's in town from Gotham, a'ight, fuckin' lemme go!" he looked at the darkened hood, pleadingly. Oliver took a moment to think internally. The thug didn't know anything else, but an example had to be made. Without hesitation, he drove the arrow into the femoral nerve of the man's right leg. The man passed out from the shock of pain, and the archer felt clarity in the next goal of taking down the venom supplier.
Back at the Arrowcave, the archer took off his hood and laid his equipment on a table. He fell into a waiting chair and took a deep sigh of respite. A blonde woman at the cusp of her young adulthood strode towards him, with a flair that briefly captured his attention. "Well, all the supplier's name took was crippling a guy for life" she remarked.
The archer scowled at her, but the grimace was momentary and he spoke softly to her, "Felicity, what did you find on Bane?"
"Well that's thing" she remarked, "there's nothing on him, he's a ghost"
"That's impossible" Oliver snapped "Everyone leaves their mark, in some way"
Felicity's eyes lit up as she thought of the perfect riposte "Chase certainly left his"
Oliver ignored her, "Where's the team?"
"They're tracking down a lead on some escaped Santa Priscan convicts, they'll be here soon"
Oliver slowly stood up, "I'm going home, Raisa's worked long enough today and William should be in bed by now"
"Want me to join?" she quipped. But her tone felt flat as the computers let out a noise to signify her work was not done. The blonde woman exhaled heavily and walked back to her workshop. The archer glanced at the TV next to him. The local news was playing, Channel 52. A woman of fiery red hair was on screen but he was not absorbing her words, the screen read in bright bold letters "BRUCE WAYNE OPENS WAYNETECH STAR CITY DIVISION". Oliver let loose a sly smirk; things were rather unpredictable whenever Bruce Wayne came to town. Bruce was a reminder of a simpler past that he ached for, Laurel, Tommy, the Queen family at their pinnacle, and so forth, before Bruce disappeared when he was 16, and before the dreadful trip on the Queen's Gambit and he looked forward to their inevitable reunion.