Chapter 1

The loud music pulsated in his ears and the bass of the music made his heartbeat drum against his ribcage. Oliver watched the bodies in Verdant gyrate against each other from his position outside the VIP room, which was currently empty. He placed his hands against the cold rail as different colors of light flashed across his face. he looked at the many beautiful women who held drinks above their head as they allowed their dance partners, equally drunk, to grope them. Oliver clenched his jaw, thinking back on the days where he used to be one of those men, itching to get his hands on anyone with a pretty smile and great boobs. Oliver scoffed at his younger self. Why did those women throw themselves at him?

Oliver rolled his eyes. He knew that answer. Billionaire playboy with a charming smile might get any girl into bed. Any girl except—-

He saw a flash of blonde hair and a glint of light on her glasses. A broad smile crossed his face and he stepped closer to the rail to keep looking at her. He watched as Felicity gave a small wave to the bartender as she passed by.

He began to descend the steps when something else caught his eye. He stared harder at the bar where two people sat, one man and one woman. Their hands were barely touching, but between their fingers Oliver spied a reflection of plastic. His eyebrows knit together as it was passed from the man to the woman. Oliver skipped down the steps rapidly, closing the distance between he and the couple.

He snatched the girl's wrist and pried the little baggy from her fingers. The man sat frozen for a split second before scrambling to get off the stool.

"Sit down," Oliver hissed in his Arrow voice, as Felicity liked to call it, grabbing the man near the collarbone and forcing him back down on the stool.

"Go," he snapped at the brunette woman sitting in front of him. She slid off her stool quickly and clicked away in her high heels.

He watched her disappear through the collaboration of bodies before turning back to the man. Oliver ground his teeth together before taking a deep breath and asking, "What's your name?"

The guy opened his mouth to say something, but then averted his eyes. He was younger than Oliver it seemed, by maybe a few years. Oliver pressed his lips together before looking over the man's head and yanking him to a stand by his collar. He pushed the guy up against the counter forcefully and got close to his face.

"Name," he spat.

The guy met his eyes before stuttering, "J-Jason Dane."

"I don't tolerate drugs in my club. Now get out. And don't come back," Oliver said, releasing the man and stepping back. Like with the woman, he watched the man's retreating back as he disappeared through the throngs of people as he headed for the exit.

Oliver set his jaw as he looked down at the baggy of green and purple pills. He clenched his fingers around them as he shook his head. Vertigo. How did this stuff keep coming up and why couldn't he stop it?

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glanced around the dance floor once more before following the path that Felicity had just taken moments before. He headed down the hallway where the music was still loud, but deafened somehow. It was darker back here and before he punched in the code to get down to the foundry, he checked his surroundings. Nobody was around and he quickly entered, making sure the door shut on his way in.

He moved swiftly down the steps as Diggle and Felicity came into view. Diggle was taking inventory of all the medical supplies in the cabinet with a notepad at his side and Felicity was booting up her computers. He noted how incredible she looked, with a black, figure-hugging dress and pink stilettos. Her hair was pulled into her normal ponytail, exposing the neck that he so dreamed of kissing one day.

Oliver crossed the floor in a few strides, coming right up next to the blonde he most wanted to see every day. He crowded her space and immediately said, "I need you to look up a name. Jason Dane."

"Uh, okay. May I ask what for?" Felicity questioned, spinning her chair around and sitting down. She faced the computers and began working her magic, her fingers moving deftly against the black keyboard.

"Drug ring," Oliver answered, placing a hand on the back of her chair, waiting for the results to pop up.

"Drug ring?" Digg chimed in. "What drug?"

Oliver took a big breath before saying, "Vertigo."

Felicity's head jerked in his direction, concern etched on her face. Little wrinkles interrupted the smooth expanse of her forehead. Her bright blue eyes flashed back and forth between both of his. Her pink-stained lips opened and closed again. He figured she was trying to guess if he was going to say anything more.

"Vertigo?" she finally questioned. "But we—-,"

"Put a stop to it weeks ago? Yes, I thought so too." Oliver finished for her, pushing off the desk and running his fingers through his short-cropped hair. He walked the short distance to the metal table behind her and placed his hands on it. It cooled them instantly, assuaging the burning anger that was currently coursing through him. This drug had almost killed his sister and it caused so many more problems to those in the Glades—addiction, gang violence, and death.

"Well," he heard Felicity pipe up behind up. "We'll just stop it again. For good, this time."

He smiled to himself at her optimism. It's exactly what he needs. He spins around and leans against the table, crossing his ankles and arms. Oliver nods and gives her a small smile, which pushes her back to her work. Several windows pop up on the screen as she does so.

"What'd you find?" Oliver asks, waiting on the information.

"Well…not much," Felicity admits, deflated. "Jason Dane must be new to the business. He doesn't even have much on his record, besides a drunken disorderly and an MIP. He's twenty-two-years-old. Mother and father are both dead. He was in and out of foster care for years until he turned eighteen. Besides that, he seems clean. I mean, you know, other than the Vertigo thing. Who do you think he's involved with?"

Oliver smirks. He was hoping the guy's record would lead him to something. He stares at the floor, formulating a plan. He heads to the glass case holding his suit and bow.

"Felicity, do you have a last known address?" Oliver asks, listening to her spout out the address as he heads to the back to change.

An hour later finds him outside Jason Dane's apartment. He's on top of the building across from it and watches the front entrance. Dane finally arrives home after Oliver's patience is spent. He wastes no time, jumping off the roof and climbing up the fire escape to the man's window. He checks to see if it's open and when he finds it locked, he gives way to how annoyed he is and punches a fist through it. The noise is enough to make anyone jump, but Oliver is through the window and into the living room in seconds. He grabs Dane by the neck and throws him against the wall.

Clicking the synthesizer, he growls, "Where did you get the Vertigo?!"

"W-what? I don't know what you're talking ab—-,"

Oliver sends an arrow at Dane. It burrows deep into the wall inches from his left ear. "I'm not going to ask again!"

"Okay! Okay!" Dane holds his hands up. "There's a warehouse in the Glades on Twelfth Avenue and Lark. I meet the guy there every few days and he gives it to me. That's all I know! I swear!"

"Your guy—-what's his name?" Oliver snarls.

"I don't know his real name. Everyone just calls him Amadeus." Dane answers, face screwed up as if he's going to get an arrow in the gut. Before he opens his eyes, Oliver's gone.

"Do you want me to get Digg to meet you there?" Felicity's voice comes through his headset. Knowing that she's on the other end of the line gives him such a sense of security.

"No, I'll just do some recon. It's possible he's not even there tonight." Oliver says, swinging a leg over his motorcycle and roaring it to life. He peels off into the night and scouts the area around the warehouse.

Finally, he decides on a location to park his bike before dipping into the shadows to look around the warehouse. He climbs to the roof and slips in through a window on to the beams up top. Faintly, he can hear classical music playing and voices talking over one another.

Oliver scoffs as he squats on a beam. Amadeus. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The guy plays classical music as he deals drugs. Oliver moves along the beams to get a better look at the place. Amadeus has his operation set up behind a bunch of mechanical equipment. Seeing no one around, Oliver drops behind a forklift. There aren't too many guards, maybe four or five skulking around Amadeus as he makes his deals. Oliver's about to make his move into the middle of the area, reaching back to grab an arrow when he feels something cold press into the back of his head.

Frozen in his position, he hears a gruff voice mutter, "Move an inch and a nine-millimeter goes into your skull."