Here, we imagine a very different beginning to season three…
Following the tragic loss of Oliver Queen at the hands of a mysterious enemy, John Diggle must fight to protect the city Oliver loved and bring his killers to justice. Can Diggle and his allies save Starling in time?
THE FALLEN ARROW
Chapter One – The Funeral of Oliver Queen
A cool breeze blew gently through the trees that shaded the mourners, and the grass was still wet with morning dew. Felicity sat on one of the soft, low seats around the casket. Tears streamed down her face. She took off her glasses and dabbed the tears from her cheeks with a tissue. John Diggle was standing behind her, and he placed a hand on her shoulder now, squeezing gently.
"Don't blame yourself, Felicity," he said, his eyes scanning the small gathering. All the mourners were dressed in black. "We both know that Oliver wouldn't want that."
Felicity nodded, sniffling.
Between his army training and his work as a bodyguard, scanning his surroundings had become instinctual for mister Diggle. He saw that Oliver's next of kin were there, as well as members of the Lance family. Everyone that should have been there, except for Thea Queen. She had left Starling City, and no one knew where she was or how to reach her. Roy had left Starling to look for her, but in some ways it was better Thea wasn't here. She had buried Oliver once already.
When the minister finished giving the eulogy, the mourners began to file past the casket and pay their final respects. Felicity was first, as she had been Oliver's fiancée. She stood up and stepped forward, but by the time she reached the casket she broke down sobbing. Quentin Lance was beside her now, having bravely stepped forward to comfort her.
"It's okay to cry, darlin'," he said, putting an arm around her, supporting her. The look on his face was somber. "I know it hurts."
When it was Diggle's turn, he stood by the casket and placed a hand on the dark wood of its lid, in a small spot between the flowers.
"You were a good man, Oliver," Diggle said. "But more than that, you…" He paused, the words catching in his throat. His eyes were wet with tears. "You were my friend." Diggle squeezed his eyes shut tightly, willing himself not to cry. He had to be strong, he told himself. His voice now reduced to a whisper. "I will finish what you started," he said with determination. "I will make this right."
Oliver had died doing something he believed in. He knew the risks, the danger that he was putting himself in. There had been so many narrow escapes, so many times when Diggle had pulled Oliver back from the brink. But now Oliver was gone, and it felt like the world had stopped turning. Only it hadn't, and it was a world where the criminals that had taken Oliver's life walked free. Diggle turned away now, knowing what he had to do. He just wasn't sure how to do it.
Diggle set down the weights he had been lifting, let out a long breath, and took a drink. He always did his best thinking when he was working out; it cleared his head and allowed him to think. He tried to remember everything that had happened the night they lost Oliver. It all started when a group of thieves had hijacked a shipment of enriched uranium on its way to Starling City Power & Light's Reactor 1, the nuclear plant down by the river. Felicity had been able to detect a trail of residual radiation left by the escaping thieves, which led to an abandoned warehouse in The Glades.
"We have to act now," Oliver had said, donning his quiver and lifting his bow from its cradle. "Before they try to move that uranium, and get it to a buyer. We can't let it leave the city. Felicity, call Detective Lance."
"Okay," she said. She swiveled around in her chair to face them, and gave them a halfhearted smile. "Be careful you two."
Oliver looked at her, his eyes softening for a moment. He just nodded.
"We will," Diggle said, returning her smile. He holstered his gun and hurried after Oliver. They had been through so many scrapes together that no one thought that this could be their last mission.
When they arrived at the warehouse, it was dark and there were no signs of activity. The doors were all locked. No light shone from the windows, which were all about two meters off the ground. Even if they could climb up and open a window, the opening would be too small for one of them to pass through.
"I'm going to try to find another way inside, stay here," Oliver said, raising his bow and firing it at the wall of the warehouse. His arrow struck just below the top of the wall, and it carried with it the end of a thin cable. The other end of the cable remained attached to Oliver's bow, and as he triggered a mechanism within the bow, the cable retracted, pulling Oliver and the bow up the wall. In the blink of an eye, Oliver had disappeared into the night, having vaulted over the wall and onto the roof of the warehouse. Diggle was alone. Now he had to rely on Oliver's voice in his ear.
"I'm in," Oliver said a moment later. The warehouse was huge, but Diggle knew that Oliver had a handheld radiation meter with him. He would find the enriched uranium and the thieves that had taken it. He would only call on Diggle if he needed his help.
Oliver looked down at the radiation meter in his hand. It was registering 120 microsieverts and rising as he moved towards a lit central portion of the warehouse. As he got closer, he could hear voices and the sound of shuffling feet. Once he was close enough he climbed atop a crate, and from there he could look down and see them. There were about twenty men, all dressed in black combat gear and busying themselves with something. They had cleared a portion of the floor, and had erected a wall of crates, palettes, and other junk around them. Oliver studied the complicated apparatus that they were working on. It lay on a well-lit workbench, and was about the size of a microwave oven. It's a nuclear device, he thought. They're building a bomb. With a few of his explosive arrows, Oliver knew he could take them all out. However, he had sworn long ago that he would not take a life unnecessarily.
"They are using the uranium to build a bomb," he said, just loud enough that his microphone would pick it up and the rest of his team could hear. "What is the status of the police?"
"They're on their way, but Detective Lance said they have to get a warrant before they can enter the warehouse," Felicity told him. That could take ten to fifteen minutes, Oliver thought. He studied the men. They looked trained, maybe even paramilitary. They wore black ski masks, body armor, and carried assault rifles. If the police tried to take this building, there would be heavy casualties. However, he had the element of surprise. It was his duty to disable as many of them as he could.
Whoosh-plat, whoosh plat! Jonah Kenneth whirled to see two of his men backed up against wooden crates, arrows pinning them there. Starling City's vigilante has found us, he thought. The Arrow is here. His men were confused, pointing their guns into the darkness that surrounded them. He saw fear in the eyes that peered from behind their masks.
"Turn on the lights!" he commanded them, just as another arrow came zipping into their group. One of the men screamed in pain; an arrow had gone clean through his hand. His weapon went clattering to the floor. One of the men squeezed off a few rounds in the direction he thought the arrow had originated. Rat-a-tattat!
"Secure the weapon! Prepare it for transport!" he barked, the lights coming on now. "I will deal with the Arrow!"
Whoosh-plat, whoosh plat! Two more arrows. Two more of his men rendered useless. I will meet this vigilante, he thought. He knew just how to draw him out. As his men prepared to move the weapon, he stepped from the protective corral of crates and refuse and into the open.
Oliver retreated into the shadows. He had lost his advantage, and he hoped the police would move in and finish the job. He would be there if things got out of hand. Just then, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked and saw a tall slender figure clad in a long black cloak moving into the open. This was the figure Oliver had seen giving orders. The hood of the cloak was up, and the figure's face was obscured. The leader, Oliver thought. The figure was moving quickly, headed toward the nearest exit door. No, Oliver thought. You will not slip away into the darkness. Not if I have anything to say about it. Oliver moved to pursue, sliding the nock of another arrow onto his bowstring. He activated a device that would disguise his voice.
"Stop, or I shoot!" Oliver commanded. The figure whirled to face Oliver, his face now only partly hidden. It was a man.
"Ah, the vigilante!" The man said. "Have you come to kill me?"
"I have come to stop you," Oliver said, raising his fully drawn bow. "Now surrender," he commanded.
The man lifted his hood now, exposing his face. He looked familiar. Oliver had the strange sense that he had met this man before.
"Do I look familiar?" the man asked. "Everyone always said I looked like my brother."
The man was tall, with short dark hair. There was something not quite right about the man's eyes. Something dark and sinister about them. Oliver searched the man's face. He couldn't place this man, or his brother.
"You don't remember him, do you?" The man said. "You've killed so many, of course you wouldn't remember."
Now Oliver remembered. Yes, he had killed this man's brother. His brother had been one of Blood's men; injected with the Mirakuru. Oliver hadn't had a choice.
"You killed him," The man said. "You took him away from me, and now I'm going to take something away from you."
"You're brother was a criminal," Oliver said. "He killed innocent people! I do what I do to protect this city, and I have to live with what I've done."
"I know you love this city," the man said, his expression dark and serious now. "And that is why I will destroy it."
Suddenly, the man extended his arms horizontally, and from under the sleeves of his cloak shot small needles. Oliver dove to the floor to avoid them, at the same time loosing an arrow at the man. The arrow hit its mark, striking the man in the leg. At the moment of impact, however, Oliver heard the thwack of an arrow hitting body armor. Had Oliver's bow been set to its maximum draw weight, his arrow would have packed enough kinetic energy to penetrate body armor, but he had set his bow to a lower draw weight to make it less lethal. He would have to aim for a gap in the man's armor. It would be hard to find it through that cloak.
The man shot more needles, and Oliver rolled out of the way to avoid them, rolling to safety behind a stack of crates. Oliver stood up behind the crates, and with his back to them, he tried to talk the man down.
"Your brother was injected with Mirakuru," Oliver told the man. "It changed him, made him into a monster. I had no choice."
"I too have been changed, but that doesn't make me a monster!" the man said, angry now. "The night the particle accelerator at Star Labs died, I became powerful! Now I will use my power to get justice for my brother!"
Oliver listened intently, and could hear the man slowly coming closer. This man was dangerous, Oliver knew. He had to be brought down, but if the police stormed in here and tried to take him, many people could die. It was up to Oliver to try to stop him, without killing him. Maybe the man could still be reached.
Jonah stepped around the corner of the pile of crates that the Arrow had taken cover behind, but the Arrow was no longer there.
"You cannot hide from me," he said. Then, out of the darkness came a bola, whipping through the air towards him. He dodged out of the way with incredible speed.
This guy is fast, Oliver thought. Had the bolas worked, they would have entangled the man. I must be faster.
With another arrow on his bowstring, this one tipped with a tranquilizer, Oliver moved stealthily through the shadows. He had maneuvered around the piles of crates and refuse until he was behind the man in the black cloak. Now he jumped into the open and let the arrow fly, this time aiming for where the man's arm joined his shoulder. The man was only a few meters away, but somehow still managed to avoid the arrow. Almost as if he knew it was coming. Like he could sense it. Oliver spun on his heel now as the man sent a barrage of needles his way, withdrawing back behind the stack of crates.
One of the needles had hit Oliver in the leg, sending a sharp pain shooting through it. The needle had embedded itself in his calf, and Oliver bent now and pulled it out.
"This ends now," Oliver threatened.
"Or what, you'll kill me like you killed my brother?" the man said.
"I never take a life unless it is absolutely necessary," Oliver said, defending himself. He could hear the cloaked man coming closer. This time Oliver stood his ground, and as the man neared the crates where Oliver stood, he sprung into action. With bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, Oliver turned the corner and came at the man, swinging his bow hard and striking the man in the arm with one of its carbon fiber reinforced limbs. The man brought up his other hand as if to strike Oliver, but Oliver used the arrow like a knife: as the man's hand came up Oliver swung the arrow down, plunging the point into the back of the man's hand. The man let out a cry of pain that quickly changed to a hiss, and for a moment his eyes changed. His irises became yellow while his pupils became vertical slits.
The eyes of a snake.
With his good hand and a burst of power, the man struck Oliver hard in the solar plexus, sending him flying through the air and crashing into a stack of old wooden pallets.
With a swoosh of his cloak, the man was gone, running away and disappearing into the shadows.
Oliver was hurt, but he wasn't giving up. He got to his feet and went to take a step forward, but stumbled. He almost fell, but grabbed at a nearby pillar for support. Something was wrong. His leg, the one that had been hit by a needle, was feeling numb. How can that be? He wondered. He hadn't lost that much blood. What was wrong with his leg?
***moments earlier
Suddenly, Diggle heard gunshots. The lights came on in the warehouse, and light came streaming from the window above Diggle's head. Where the hell are the cops? Diggle wondered.
"Come on, Oliver," he said under his breath. He began shifting his weight back and forth between his feet uneasily. He waited patiently until Oliver spoke. A minute or two later he did.
"Something's wrong Diggle." His voice sounded strained, almost labored.
"I'm coming," Diggle replied, drawing his sidearm. He pointed it at the lock of the nearest door, and fired three shots into it. Then he picked up a length of pipe off the ground and struck the door lever with it. The lock broke with a loud crack, and he was able to force the door open. Inside he found a dimly lit maze of crates, palettes, and other forgotten items. It smelled of damp concrete.
"I'm in. Where is he Felicity?" Diggle asked.
"About twenty meters northwest of you," Felicity said. "Oliver?" she asked, worried. "What's happening?" There was no response.
Diggle began to make his way through the mess. He could only see for a few meters in any direction, there was that much refuse stacked up on the floor of the warehouse.
Suddenly, Diggle heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He whirled around, just in time to see a man in a ski mask bringing up the barrel of an assault rifle. Diggle sprung to the left just as the attacker squeezed off a burst of gunfire, sending bullets flying through the air where Diggle's ribs had been just a half second before. Diggle took off in a sprint in Oliver's direction, weaving around obstacles so as not to allow the masked gunman pursuing him a clear shot.
As Diggle neared Oliver's location, he heard a shuffling noise around the corner, and then Oliver cry out in pain.
"I'm coming Oliver," Diggle said, rushing ahead. Just then, a hail of bullets rained down around him, and he was forced to take cover. The bullets came ripping through the wooden crates around him, filling the air with splinters of wood and other debris. Suddenly, Diggle felt a sudden pain in his leg, the shock of which forced him down onto one knee. One of the bullets had grazed the outside of his leg. He quickly assessed the wound. It was bleeding, but it wasn't serious. Now on his hands and knees, he crawled forward until he could see around the corner. He saw Oliver about six meters away, lying on the floor immobile.
"Oliver's down, I'm gonna try to get him out," Digg said to Felicity. There were too many attackers, heavily armed and closing in. But Diggle was a soldier, and he would never leave a fellow soldier behind. He got into a crouch, gritted his teeth, and broke into a run toward the fallen Arrow.
"Go home Felicity," Diggle said. Felicity sat at her computer console, her head in her hands. She had offered to help, but Digg couldn't stand seeing her like this. They had buried Oliver only yesterday, and this was a time to mourn. "Not now Felicity. I know how you feel, and I know you want to help, but there is nothing you can do right now." She protested, said she was fine, but Digg insisted, and eventually she gave in, and went home.
He was alone now, standing in the Arrow's secret center of operations. It was quiet, as Felicity's world-class computer workstation was powered down, it's multiple screens dark. They had tried to find out who owned the warehouse that the thieves had used, but that had turned into a dead end. Also, the uranium was shielded now, meaning there was no residual radiation trail for them to follow.
What Diggle did know was that Starling City Power & Light would have to receive another shipment of enriched uranium soon. The reactor had already spent 95% of its remaining fuel rods, and if they weren't replaced with new ones in a week, the plant would have to shut down and the city would go dark. There would be chaos, riots, and looting in the streets. This shipment would be even more heavily guarded than the first, but if the same thieves that stole the first one got a hold of it, they would have enough for a bomb. A nuclear bomb. Digg had to do what he could to stop them, if not for Oliver, but for the people of the city, the ones Oliver had tried so hard to protect. Digg knew the forces he was up against were dangerous, deadly, and out of control.
Diggle turned now, looking through the transparent cases where the Arrow's suit and weapons were stored. The cases were dark, their lights off now, but he saw the dark shapes inside. Diggle could fight, but he knew that he could never replace Oliver. He could never be the Arrow. He couldn't match Oliver's speed, his agility. His skill with a bow. He needed help; he needed someone who could fight. These were desperate times. They called for desperate measures.
