Author's Note: A new serial type story…because the plot bunnies bit. Translations at the end.
Знакомство с Капитаном.
She could still remember when they first entered her life – at least so she could recognize them.
"No."
Her mother's firm voice carried down the hall. Felicity Smoak looked up from her textbook, a frown creasing her brow as she registered the small waver of fear buried beneath that resolute denial. From the day her father left them, Felicity saw her mother in every mood under the sun. Donna Smoak cried and yelled and broke various dishes for a couple of days before she got up one morning, dry eyed and focused on making sure her daughter would not suffer for the lack of a father. She worked long hours in questionable circumstances to give Felicity every chance to succeed. With a letter of acceptance from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology stuck to the refrigerator with a silly magnet, it looked like all of their dreams were on the verge of taking off.
"No."
That definitive tone drew Felicity towards the kitchen. She paused in the hallway, still out of sight of the occupants when another voice began to speak.
"We have always protected our own," a man stated. "We can protect you now."
"My little girl grew up without a father because of his ties to you," Donna replied, bitter condemnation lacing her voice. "Because of the life he lived for you."
"Patrick Lawless chose to steal from the hand that fed him." An older male voice with a hint of shakiness interrupted. "If he had not taken what wasn't his, he'd have had no reason to run. That was not our doing – nor was it our choice. He was good at his work and if he hadn't gotten greedy, he'd be there still."
"I…I don't care!" Donna's voice flared in frustration. "I won't have my daughter mixed up with that kind of lifestyle."
Felicity wavered between continuing to eavesdrop or bursting into the room to confront the strangers when the first man spoke again. "You're about to lose your home," he noted. Her eyes went wide; she knew they were strapped for cash, but she hadn't known it was that bad. "Will your daughter leave when that happens?" He paused. "Even if you convince her, what then? Your little girl might have gotten a scholarship, but how will she live? Think of the jobs available to a full time student. Do you picture such a pretty girl as a bartender…or a cocktail waitress?"
There came the sound of a defeated sigh and Felicity could picture her mother dropping into one of the chairs at their little table. "Why?" Her mother's voice sounded tired, nothing like the angry, determined woman of before. "What could you possibly get out of it?"
"We repay an old debt," the older man answered.
Silence settled on the kitchen at that one sentence. No one spoke and Felicity trembled as she waited. Why? That was what she wanted to know – why would these men – whoever they were – show up to help them out?
As if she could hear her daughter's thoughts, Donna spoke up. "What kind of debt?" she demanded. "And why us?"
"Your husband may have been a traitor and a disappointment, but his father, Hugh Lawless, never wavered, even to the point of sacrificing himself. Mr. Byrne promised to the older Mr. Lawless he would protect his family in return for his service. The man's son didn't deserve it, but your daughter looks to be growing into a fine, strong young woman."
"I don't want her in the life," Donna reiterated.
"We only wish to offer our protection."
Donna scoffed. "And put us in debt to you by covering our bills."
The man disagreed. "You will continue to work wherever you choose," he replied, "we will merely make sure you continue to have a roof over your head. Young Felicity will be in our territory – we will keep her safe. When she graduates she will go her own way. Our debt will then be paid."
Donna capitulated…and Felicity discovered the truth of her father's past with the Winter Hill gang.
All these years later – the memory stood out, crystal clear in the whirlwind of her senior year. Once or twice a year she would get a call from someone about some computer work, but she insisted on a straightforward exchange. They offered a trade of services, but she refused, requiring payment in cash. She might work with them, but she remembered her mother's instructions about not getting tangled into that kind of life. They paid up front for her work and she would complete the contract. Some of it had been questionable, but her arrangement kept her free of obligations.
All that effort, all that work, all that time staying free of the Irish mob…and now Felicity was about to throw herself headlong into an arrangement with the Russian mafia.
Her mother would be so disappointed.
She walked into Big Belly Burger, pulling a breath deep into her lungs as she tried to steady herself for this meeting. Why this place had been chosen she didn't know, but this is where the Bratva captain agreed to meet with a representative from Boston out of courtesy.
"I'm sorry," came a voice from the back. "We're closed!" A man stepped out of the kitchen, eyes calm and focused on her. He stood almost a foot taller than her and the quiet composure made her more nervous than a suspicious glare would have managed.
"Oh," Felicity stammered, "I'm…umm…I'm supposed to…uh…meet someone."
"Пропустите ее."
Her eyes flew to a table in the back. The lights in that area were already off, casting the corner into shadows so she couldn't make out the person sitting there. Her fingers trembled, rustling the files she held in a tight grip, but she forced them to steady as she waited for some kind of signal.
"Впервые в Бостоне?"
"Um…I'm sorry…I don't speak Russian." Felicity bit her lip. "I only managed to get something that sounded kind of like Boston out of that, so I'm guessing you want to know if I'm from Boston? I'm not…well, not since I was like three or something, but I still have…people back there, and did they tell you I was from Boston? Because I don't know why they'd tell you I was from Boston when I've lived here for the past few years."
A rough chuckle brought her to a standstill, and even the tall guard figure at the counter cracked a smile. He nodded towards the shadowed corner, indicating she should go ahead and go over. Taking a deep breath she walked into the darkened area. She took a seat and placed the files on the table in front of her. Silence descended and stretched between them. She fidgeted, clasping her hands on top of the folders. Her eyes focused on them, making sure the shaking she felt wasn't actually visible before turning her gaze up to her…host. Thanks to the dim lighting, she could only see the strong jawline covered with the shadow of a beard, heavier than a five o'clock shadow, but nowhere near a full beard, and a firm, unsmiling mouth. After a moment her eyes dropped to her hands once more. Now that she was here, she didn't know how to begin.
The man across from her tapped the table with calloused fingers. "You requested a meeting, Miss Smoak," he began and her eyes flew up once more, now wide with surprise. One corner of his mouth twitched. "Did you think we would not look into it?" The 'and you' was silent, but deafening.
"No," she replied, and then shook her head. "Well, I didn't think you wouldn't, but I didn't think you'd realize it was me who was meeting you. I mean I didn't arrange for it or anything and Mick told me he hadn't mentioned any names."
"He didn't." The quiet reply dropped between them, but no elaboration followed. Instead her host seemed willing to wait until she gave him her reason for being here.
"Right," she frowned. Felicity hated mysteries and not knowing how they knew her name definitely qualified. It would wait. She needed to get this done. "Right," she repeated, her voice going soft. "So, yes, I'm Felicity Smoak, and I work in the I.T. department at Queen Consolidated." The man's fingers twitched and she bit her lip. "This isn't about the company," she told him, "and I'm not planning on spilling any company secrets, so please don't ask me."
"Why are we here?"
"Sorry, but you have to know how this came together," she answered. "I wouldn't have found out about the situation if I didn't work I.T. at QC. No one would have found out if I didn't work I.T. at QC. I don't know why a company like that has such a subpar I.T. department. Personally I think half my department should be fired and replaced for the sheer lack of ability to keep up with the pace of technology-." She cut herself off. "Never mind, not the point."
"What situation?"
Felicity took a deep breath. "Someone at QC works for the Triad." Her host sat up and although she could not see his eyes, she felt his gaze sharpen, hitting her almost like a laser. One glance around revealed the bodyguard to have come to attention. She waved a hand at the files. "I…I have proof."
The man across from her remained silent and she could see his chest rise and fall as he breathed. His fingers reached towards the files, tapping on them. "Why not go to your boss? Or the police?" he demanded.
"Well, while I'm pretty sure Mr. Steele is as clean as they come, I don't know that," she replied. "And I thought about going to the police," she admitted. "I picked up the phone and started to dial, thinking I could take the proof by the station, but then…" Her voice trailed off.
"But then?" he prompted.
"I…I…Okay, look, I don't work with organized crime," she said in a rush. "I've had brushes, but that was because of family and old debts and I'm not even sure I have the whole story yet because Mick can be a pain in the ass, but I don't work with them. I've done some things for the people in Boston, but those were straight exchanges, computer services for cash, and I haven't done those since I graduated school and moved away." Her hands curled into one another on the table, her nails digging into her skin. "But just because I tried to stay out of it doesn't mean I'm an idiot about it."
His hand moved across the table to rest over hers and she fell silent. "Felicity," he prompted, voice gentle, but unyielding. "Tell me what you know."
"I spotted some odd invasions in the internal QC code," she replied, something about the warmth of his hand and the gentleness of his tone calming her. She didn't think it should have worked that way, but it did. She didn't feel…threatened – she felt…safe. "I went through, line by line, and that takes a really long time, let me tell you, but I finally found it. It's a…hook…kind of like a fishing line I guess. Someone set it up for the Triad and they are using it to extract information on Queen Consolidated."
"How do you know it's the Triad?" This question came over her shoulder from the bodyguard.
"Well, I…I wanted to make sure it wasn't some…prank before I called the police," she told him. "So I traced it and went to see what I could find out."
"You went poking into a Triad location?" The hand on hers tightened and she tried to pull away. "Are you an idiot?"
"Hey! I didn't know it was Triad!" she shot back, stung.
"You knew it was someone illegal!"
"Oh, please, people do this kind of thing all the time," she grumped. "Most of them aren't members of a criminal organization."
"It was still a stupid risk."
Her mouth opened to shoot back a hot retort when the truth of his comment hit her. She deflated, almost slumping into her seat. "I know," she agreed with a shake of her head, "but I needed to know. As soon as I spotted the affiliation, I got out of there."
"And you didn't call the police because…?"
"Because only someone inside QC would have been able to spot that invasion," she told him. "Only someone who knew tech would be able to expose it. And of everyone currently in the I.T. department, I'm the only one who would have been able to trace it." She pulled her hands free of his and brought them up to her face. "It wouldn't take a genius long to figure that out, and if even one person at QC or the police department blew the whistle…" Her voice trailed off once more when a shudder ran down her back.
"You were afraid they'd find you."
"Yes," she admitted.
"So why us?" He leaned back, face still half cloaked in shadow, but she knew he was watching her.
"It was Mick's idea," she explained. "When I realized I might… Well, when I thought of what might happen, I needed advice from someone who actually might have a practical, workable idea. I…I can't just let the Triad gut QC, but I didn't know who to go to and…." She shrugged. "I called Mick."
"Mickey Bryne?"
"Yes, he's…I hesitate to say he's a friend," she told him, "but I don't think acquaintance covers it either. I've…worked for him a couple of times. I figured if anyone could tell me the way to handle it, it would be him. He said they wouldn't have started such an aggressive move in Starling unless they had someone in the station as well as the corporation, so the police was a bad idea. Then he told me the Bratva had a foothold here and would definitely be opposed to any inroads by the Triad." Her fingers started trembling again. "And so…here I am…really hoping I get to…well…dump this in your lap."
The firm mouth tightened and relaxed before one corner pulled up into a half smile. She blinked and stared, a little transfixed. The shadows made it like looking at a man in a mask, and that curve of his mouth should not be intriguing her while she was dealing with this kind of issue. Triad and Bratva and reconnecting with Mick…this was not the time for getting captivated by…
What the hell was she thinking?
She's talking to a Captain of the Solntsevskaya Bratva, an as yet unnamed Captain at that!
Giving herself a good mental shake, she touched the files once more. "So…about doing that? The dumping thing I mean?"
"Включите свет." The bodyguard moved towards the back of the room as her conversation partner reached out to place a hand on the files. "We are definitely interested in discussing this," he told her. His mouth twitched into a small smile as she slumped with relief. "I think you will find that we have quite an interest in this information," he continued just as light lit up their corner.
Felicity blinked in the sudden brightness, her head turning towards the bodyguard before glancing back to the man across the table. Her jaw dropped. Her conversational partner, the Bratva Captain recommended by her Irish connections…
Oliver Queen.
Translations:
Знакомство с Капитаном. - Meeting the Captain
Пропустите ее. - Let her be.
Впервые в Бостоне? - You are the Boston visitor?
Включите свет. - Turn on the lights.