Previously on Arrow...
"You cannot die until you have known complete despair...I promise you."
...
"Slade took Laurel because he wants to kill the woman I love."
"So?"
"So he took the wrong woman. I love you."
...
"You helped me become a hero, Slade. Thank you."
"You think I won't get outta here? You think I won't kill those you care for?"
"No, I don't. Because you're in Purgatory."
"I keep my promises, kid. I keep my promises! I keep...my promises."
...
"Why the sudden change of heart?"
"I don't want to hurt anymore. Or get hurt. You seem like the kind of person who can teach me how not to."
...
"It's really smart, the way you outfoxed him. Talk about unthinkable. You and me, I mean. When you told me you loved me, you had me fooled. For a second, I...maybe you might've meant it. You really sold it."
"We both did."
...
2 months later
Starling City, USA
2 months after the Siege
"Talk to me."
"According to these schematics, there should be an entrance on the southeast corner of the roof. Hold on...security cameras confirm no guards."
"Got it."
A blur of green leather leapt the distance between two buildings, adeptly climbing over the railing of a rooftop staircase and vaulting to the floor above. A gloved left hand reached to the back of a belt and pulled a collapsed metal device off, thumb hitting a switch that caused it to extend with an electronic whirr. As the figure sprinted toward the far end of the roof, his right hand reached toward his back, pulling a long, thin object from a quiver and nocking it on a metallic bowstring. A soft metallic grind preceded the twang of a released bowstring, the arrow towing a thin but sturdy cable in its wake as it pierced the surface of an eight-story building in the distance.
The figure pulled the other end of the cable off his bow and planted its sharp tip into the ground, the metal head expanding to dig into the roof as he leapt toward the taut wire without hesitation. A hook in his bow went around the zip-line, keeping him from a hundred-foot drop as he approached his target building. The figure unhooked just six feet from the end of the rope, rolling on impact with the gravel rooftop and immediately nocking an impact arrow as he scanned the roof for contacts. As he was previously told and now confirmed, there were no guards at this entrance of the building.
The arrow went back in his quiver before his right hand palmed his chest.
"I'm here. Where to now?"
"You should see a roof access door dead ahead. Go down two floors, then take a left out of the stairwell."
"Got it."
The Arrow marched cautiously toward the door, opening it and pulling another arrow as he descended the prescribed distance, following Felicity's instructions to the letter.
"The signal's coming from a room twenty meters ahead of you."
He nodded though the person on the other end couldn't see it, continuing his approach with every sense trained on his environment. It was a surprise, then, when he heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the room in question. His eyebrows furrowed before he broke off into a sprint, the arrow coming off his bowstring as he kept it ready in his right hand, legs pumping as fast as possible and taking him directly to the entrance. A running heel kick sent the wooden door crashing off its hinges, and the metallic grind of an arrow being drawn was heard as he scanned the room beyond, eyes settling almost immediately on a shadowy, dark-clothed figure standing over two bodies.
A cursory glance showed both of them still breathing, albeit a bit unevenly.
"Oliver?" asked a voice in his ear. "What's going on?"
Slowly, the black-clothed figure turned to face the Arrow, a pair of dark eyes staring into his from behind a balaclava with an intensity he'd only seen a few times.
Quietly, Oliver responded to the question. "I'm not sure." Another tense moment passed before he intentionally deepened his voice and addressed the man he was currently threatening. "What are you doing here?"
The other man was silent, his only indication he'd heard Oliver's question a slight cock of the head and narrowing of the eyes. What happened next was so fast, any normal man would have been helpless to avoid it. But Oliver Queen was no ordinary man.
The Arrow ducked to the side as a bright flash of metal flew toward him from the figure's left hand, the small knife digging into the wall behind him as the dark-clothed man broke off into a sprint, taking a side door out of the room and fleeing through the building. Oliver was on him in an instant, the arrow he'd nocked pulled back and fired once he had a clear line of sight. Instead of the familiar thunk of it impacting his target, however, he only heard the shattering of glass, as a quick duck by the target sent the arrow flying into the window beyond.
He rounded a corner, followed hotly by the Arrow as he started sprinting at his pursuer's speed...if not slightly above it. He ducked into a stairwell as a net arrow deployed in his previous path, narrowly dodging another impact arrow that attempted to prevent him from fleeing. Oliver leapt into the stairwell, skipping the steps four at a time as his target leapt entire flights with barely a moment's slowing each time he jumped. A small pang of fear and familiarity ran through Oliver for a moment.
The last time he'd pursued a man this fast and physically acute was the night of the Siege. Could one of Slade's men have escaped the battle? He dismissed the notion a moment later. Slade's army of monsters had been stopped, and one of them would never run from a fight. Of all the dosed-up Mirakuru soldiers, Slade Wilson and Isabel Rochev were the only two who'd retained some semblance of rationality and free will. Well, them and Roy, and even then he'd gone off the deep end after only a few months. It had been at least two since this one would have been injected, and those men he assaulted were still alive. As far as Oliver knew, Mirakuru subjects never took prisoners.
Refocusing on the task at hand, Oliver ramped up his pace, pushing his Olympic-level body to the limit as the target ducked into a hallway three floors down from where he'd first spotted him. When Arrow followed in his footsteps, he spotted him making his way toward another stairwell, already heading back up. It didn't make any sense. His palm pressed against his chest.
"Felicity, where does that stairwell lead?"
"Hang on...it's a roof-only access point. Heads straight to the top."
He smiled grimly. "Perfect." Running toward the nearest window, Oliver smashed it open with a punch from his bow, then twirled the weapon into his left hand and nocked another cable arrow, then shot it at a support on the roof and allowed the device to reel him to the top. As he climbed onto the roof, an access door twenty feet away slammed open. Three arrows flew in quick succession, but none of them found their mark. Whoever this guy was, his reflexes were astoundingly good.
Oliver kept up his pursuit as he neared the edge of the rooftop, and his heart skipped a beat when the shadow leapt off without hesitation. It only made sense when he reached the edge and saw him zip-lining to an adjacent rooftop using an inactive power line and a...knife as his hook. Obviously, he was using the blunt edge. The Arrow followed quickly, speeding across the line until the figure reached the other side and dropped into a kneeling crouch, his knife flashing up and cutting the line in one swing. Oliver's heart stuttered as years of training kicked in, his right hand reaching back and firing another cable arrow that swung him around the side of the building in question, his pendulum motion taking him to a lower level of the roof.
The shadow landed on his level, just fifteen feet away, in time for an arrow to streak toward him. Considering how this pursuit had gone so far, it wasn't all that surprising when he caught the arrow mid-flight, then tossed it aside and kept running. Oliver gritted his teeth and reengaged, pulling another trick arrow from his quiver and firing it low this time. To his surprise, it worked, and a long twist of cable wrapped around the man's ankles, causing a rough landing and allowing him to close the distance.
The moment the shadow's knife slashed through the wires, he was on his feet and ducking under a bow punch from the Arrow. He spun counterclockwise as Oliver twirled his bow, ducking under another horizontal strike and countering with an uppercut that was deflected with a left-hand slap. The shadow leapt into a backward handspring, his legs kicking the bow upward and knocking a newly nocked arrow from its place as he started running again. A leap off the side of the building was followed by a slide down an angled skylight, Oliver keeping up his pursuit.
The figure leapt off the skylight and rolled when he hit a metal storage container, landing in the skeletal structure of a building under construction. Oliver kept closing the distance bit by bit, approaching until he rounded a corner and ducked out of sight. The moment he followed, a powerful shin kick landed in his gut. Coughing hard, he drew back out of the range of a right cross and swung his bow upward. The man dodged to the side and threw a left hook that Arrow deflected with some difficulty, countering with a bow strike to his head that actually landed. The man was barely jolted, and charged back in with a thrust kick and several lightning-fast jabs.
Oliver spun with a hook that impacted the left of his face, falling into a crouch and sweeping out one of his legs with an arm of his bow. The kneeling shadow used his back leg to push toward the Arrow, bowling him over and gripping his collar with both hands, then using his rolling momentum to toss him back-first into a vertical steel girder. Oliver grunted, then barrel-rolled away from the girder as the man landed in a falling knee where his ribs had just been. He drew back an arrow and fired at point-blank range, the man moving barely a split-second before he released and neatly dodging the shot as he slugged Oliver in the diaphragm.
Arrow drew back and threw a 360 roundhouse kick that was barely avoided, charging in with a leaping bow punch that impacted his newly drawn knife. Several more strikes were deflected and countered before his bow clattered to the floor after the wrist holding it was kicked. The knife-point hovered inches away from his left shoulder as he exerted all his strength keeping it away. In a split-second, Oliver reached over to his left forearm and pulled one of his flechettes off, swinging it at his throat like a knife. The man withdrew just far enough to dodge, then planted a hard knee in his lower ribs and cut the stem off the flechette when he swung it again.
The knife returned to its sheath as he actually lifted Oliver off the ground by his neck, holding him against a nearby wall as black spots swam in his vision. The Arrow strained against his iron grip as a panicked female voice reached the edges of his fading consciousness. Growling with effort, he reached for his right hip, pulling one of his spare arrows from a thigh quiver and driving its head into the man's leg. He yelled in pain, releasing Oliver and stumbling back several steps before yanking out the arrow by the time Oliver retrieved his bow. The Arrow came charging in, taking advantage of his stunned state with a powerful bow punch.
He didn't count on the push kick that impacted his diaphragm and cut the force of his blow in a third, or the fact that his opponent grabbed the bowstring and yanked on it, pulling Oliver forward and off-balance, then allowing the string to snap back, the bow's metal frame impacting his head hard. The shadow pulled on his bow as he pivoted hard, flipping the Arrow over his shoulder and onto his back, arrows spilling out of his quiver as he landed hard, the wind knocked out of him. Oliver swept his right hand toward his left to transfer his bow, realizing a split-second later that it was in the hand of his target.
Who now had an arrow pointed at his head.
"Oliver?" someone was asking him in a near-panic.
He couldn't do anything but stare into the eyes of the shadow, the dark, nearly black orbs narrowing subtly, then flickering to the arrow he'd drawn back. His head tilted sideways before straightening again. He tensed with the telltale signs of an imminent fire, and Oliver braced himself for the end. The shadow's aim shifted slightly, and he released the arrow—into the concrete four inches from his head. Oliver wondered at the change of heart for a moment before several beeps came from the arrowhead. He barely had time to register the noise before the flashbang arrow went off, blinding and deafening him for what felt like hours but was actually less than a minute.
When his senses returned, he blinked rapidly only to find smoke, darkness, and his bow and arrows strewn around him.
"Oliver?!" the voice yelled again.
Shaking his head, the Arrow put a hand to his chest. "I'm here, Felicity. I'm okay." He looked around rapidly as a loud sigh of relief reached his ears over the link. "But whoever that was, he's gone."
…
20 minutes later
Queen Industrial Manufacturing, Starling City, USA
Oliver descended through the usual secret side entrance he'd built into the now-defunct Verdant, approaching what Felicity affectionately called the "Arrowcave" moments later. He pulled his hood back and mask down as his lungs filled and mouth opened to speak.
"Before you ask," Felicity interrupted with a raised hand, "I have no idea who that was. I've been running a search through every database in the book based on his height, figure, approximate weight, and clothing ever since I caught a flash of him on the building's surveillance cameras, and there's nothing."
Oliver cocked his head to the side and took a quick breath before closing his mouth and furrowing his brows. He leaned against the side of her desk and stared into the monitor currently running her search program, brain absently registering a pair of light blue eyes staring at him intently. He turned his head toward her to find an expression of abject concern on her face.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
He frowned and looked away, thinking for a moment. "Yes. I'm fine." He straightened up and started pacing, placing his bow back on its rack and arrows in their slots on autopilot. A thought occurred to him moments later. "What about the ARGUS database? Maybe that mask's popped up before."
"Yeah," she smiled tightly, "checked that one too. The balaclava he was using was just a standard generic mask, probably made of some kind of cotton, with no indication of where it came from. Without an actual fiber sample to analyze, I've got nothing on that end."
Oliver huffed in frustration, marching over to her desk and leaning down again. "Someone with those skills doesn't just pop up overnight. There is a trace of this man somewhere and I want to know about it."
"You got it," she answered dutifully, typing furiously for a few moments and starting another search program, then pushing her chair away and facing him. "So…what happened out there?"
Oliver sighed, leaning against one of his workbenches with both hands. "He beat me." He turned his head to face her. "Solidly. It was like he could see my shots before they even happened. And he was fast. Really fast."
"And strong, apparently," she added as she rose to her feet, approaching him and gingerly putting her outstretched fingers to his neck, where several bruises were beginning to form.
"Yeah," he breathed out, pursing his lips tightly and looking to the side absently in thought. "For a second I thought he might've been dosed on Mirakuru, but…" He tilted his head to the side briefly. "But then he left me alive."
"And Mirakuru soldiers don't take prisoners," she concluded.
"No," he confirmed, pushing himself up onto the table at his back. "He had an arrow pointed right at my head…and then he changed his mind." His brows furrowed. "Or maybe he was never trying to kill me in the first place. I remember at one point in the fight, he had his knife inches away from me, but he was aiming for my shoulder, not my neck."
"Then what was he doing there?"
"I'm not sure. And that worries me."
They were both silent a while, Felicity absently biting her lower lip and swinging her arms back and forth.
"Welp," she said finally, "we're not gonna learn anything new tonight. I've got my searches running and my tablet's linked in, so if the computer finds anything, we'll know." She grunted as she shouldered her purse, heels clacking on the concrete as she marched toward the stairs. "I, in the meantime, have to go to sleep." Felicity pointed an accusing finger at Oliver. "Some of us have actual jobs."
He grinned easily, shoving off the table and approaching her on the staircase. "You heard from Digg lately?"
"Not for a while, no, but…considering where he is, and who he's with…" She tilted her hand side to side, expression caught somewhere between a smile and a cringe.
Oliver grinned. "To be expected." He exhaled sharply. "Still can't believe he's gonna be a father."
Felicity smiled wistfully and looked off into the distance. "Yeah…"
Another long silence passed.
"You should get going," Oliver said simply.
"Right. See you tomorrow."
…
Three days later
Felicity's morning routine was just that: routine. Wake up, do light calisthenics, eat breakfast, get dressed, apply makeup, get coffee, go to work. Most, if not everything, in her morning ritual played out exactly as expected, so much so that if pressed, she could probably do it all with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back. So, when this ritual was disrupted by, say, one of her heels slipping on spilled coffee and sending her tumbling, surprise and shock initially outweighed any fear of the inevitable impact.
As it turned out, she had no real cause for fear.
A strong, leather-clad arm wrapped around her slender waist, the body attached to it counterbalancing her meager weight and keeping her aloft, the coffee in her hand barely staying in suddenly limp fingers. As if sensing this, the arm slowly pulled her body upright, refusing to leave her waist until her footing was sure. She was so busy yelling at her heart to resume a walking pace instead of its drag-out sprint that her brain didn't register a question or its source until a few seconds later.
"What?" she asked, blinking rapidly. Her question was met with two rows of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth set in a head six feet off the ground.
"I said," the man chuckled, "are you all right?"
"Y-Yes, uh…" she checked the veritable puddle she'd stepped in, "thank you."
He smiled again, a close-mouthed curve that lit up a clean-shaven face that screamed of youth. "You're welcome." He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his leather jacket. "Almost took quite the fall, Miss…Felicity."
She blinked rapidly. "How do you know my name?"
He smirked. "Well, your chest says so," he answered, pointing at her blue uniform's name tag. His jaw dropped open a moment later as his face filled with color. "And that…totally did not come out right."
She laughed loudly and easily, noting the way he nervously scratched the back of his head. "Don't worry about it. Happens to me all the time." She outstretched her hand and smiled warmly. "Felicity Smoak."
He smiled gently and shook it. "Nathan Gray. Need a hand getting to your table? You know, in case there are more homicidal coffee spills."
She giggled and shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm actually heading to work."
"At, uh," he leaned down and stared at her uniform, "Tech Village, right?" When Nathan looked back up at her face, he noted the grin she was vainly trying to hide and seemed to notice exactly where he'd been staring, if the ways his eyes became disks and face reddened even further were any indication.
Felicity held up a hand to stop his apology, holding in her laughter for his sake. "Relax. It's fine."
"Huh," he breathed absently, scratching the back of his head and cringing. "I am…so sorry. I'm usually a lot better at this whole…socializing thing."
She put a hand on his arm and released a chuckle. "It's fine. Seriously."
"Uh huh," he said disbelievingly.
"Look, I'll prove it to you."
His brows furrowed. "How?"
"If I thought you were a creep, would I let you walk me to work?"
One dark eyebrow made its journey up his face. "Why?"
She looked at him incredulously as she made her way out the door. "Well, you insisted on being chivalrous, so why not?"
"Uh, well…I kinda have to go to work too."
"Oh? What kind?"
He smirked wryly, keeping in step with her. "The kind that tends to wet a lot of pants." His eyes closed and he sighed as she suppressed another giggle. "Damn it. I've gotta stop doing that. What I mean is that I'm in the security business, kind of a private contractor-slash-investigator."
"Ooh, cool."
He shrugged. "I like it."
She did a double-take as she really looked at him. "Wait," she started uncertainly, "aren't you a little young for that kind of job?"
He smirked wryly, as if the question itself was amusing. "That's what everyone told me when I got involved." His smirk turned into a grin. "Man were they in for a surprise."
She stared at him for a few moments, noting the gentle curve of his jaw, his light Caribbean tan…and the keen intelligence behind his dark brown eyes. "So…how long have you been doing what you're doing?"
"About six years. Started before I got into college."
Her eyebrows rose. "Wait, you're…twenty-four?"
He smirked wryly. "Twenty-one, actually."
Her eyes went wide. "What?!"
"I know," he laughed. "I've heard it before."
"So, you started in your profession at age fifteen?"
"Yup. You could say I was…bred for it."
"Oh," she breathed, falling silent as they kept walking, just two blocks away from Tech Village.
"Well, I better get going." He shrugged. "Duty calls."
"Right," Felicity said as she came to a halt. "So…I'll see you around? I mean, you don't even have my number."
Nathan nodded and smirked. "Starling City ain't that big." He started walking away, but stopped mid-step and turned to her. "Besides, I know where you work." His grin dropped instantly and he held up his hands. "And when I say that, I don't mean to sound like a stalker, which…I guess that could be interpreted as…"
Her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter, which broke loose when he reddened and looked down. Felicity approached him as quickly as her heels allowed, putting one hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Nathan, relax. You're not a stalker. At least, I don't think so. I mean, you don't really seem like the type who needs to be." She shook her head. "Point is, I get what you're trying to say." A bright smile lit up her face, and she saw it gently mirrored in his as he nodded.
"Okay." He shook her empty hand. "It was nice meeting you, Felicity."
Her lips ticked a bit more upwards. "Likewise." When he'd vanished from sight, the lightness that had settled over her heart didn't. It carried her through the "soul-crushing misery" of her day job and flew her into the Arrowcave with a bright, wide smile that was even more vibrant than her usual greeting for Oliver and the newly arrived Roy.
Both of them noticed.
"So what's got you so happy?" Roy asked with a smirk of his own.
"Hm?" She tilted her head in his direction. "Oh, nothing. I just had a good day."
The sarcastic expression he gave Felicity told her he didn't believe her.
She patently ignored the stare Oliver was giving her and seated herself at her desk, immediately logging on and checking the status of her search programs when a tall presence at her side cast a shadow over her monitors. Felicity turned to face Oliver and look up at his inquisitive expression. "Yes?" she asked sweetly.
A grin slowly made its way onto his stubble-ridden face as he bounced from one leg to the other. "So what's his name?"
She turned her head sideways. "Whose name?"
"The guy who put that smile on your face."
She scrunched up her eyebrows and shrugged dismissively, turning back to her computer. "Who says it was a guy?"
"Didn't know you swung in that direction," Roy put in sarcastically.
Felicity rolled her eyes and pointedly turned toward the younger man, who was currently hammering on the Wing Chun dummy. "First off, I don't, and secondly…" she glanced between the two archers before shrugging. "Why does something have to change in order for me to smile? I'm always smiling. Well, not always, but, you know—"
"It's not the fact that you're smiling," Oliver interrupted gently, "it's the fact that you're smiling like this."
She blinked rapidly. "Like what?"
Oliver sighed with a smile and shook his head, walking away toward the salmon ladder. "Never mind." He reached up and grabbed the bar, facing her as he poised to begin his climb. "I like it."
She gave him a tight smile before turning back to her station, the metallic clang of Oliver's workout so familiar it no longer fazed her. Her eyes narrowed subtly as they swept over several lines of text from an ARGUS file she ran across, then flashed in triumph before she yelled, "Got something!"
Immediately, Oliver dropped to the ground, marching over to her workstation.
"Remember how I said that nothing on him was distinctive?"
He nodded.
"Well, I was wrong." She tapped a couple of keys and magnified a clean image of the "shadow," as she'd taken to calling him.
Oliver's eyes widened in recognition. "The knife."
"Mhm." She tapped another key, sending several files onto three different screens, one of which had a high-resolution image of the same weapon. "It's a coltan-titanium alloy of some sort, supposed to be nearly indestructible, but that's not why it made its way into ARGUS's database." She keyed another file up. "This is."
Oliver leaned in close, a frown creasing his forehead as he read the file, noting the poignant lack of a picture. "Caden?"
"That's what they call him. Actually, that's what he calls himself." She nodded at him. "You were right. He didn't just pop up overnight. According to this, he's been in the espionage game for a little over five years, everywhere from New York to Moscow and everywhere in between."
"Who does he work for?"
Felicity typed for a few moments, accessing whatever else they had on Caden. "Um…no one. There's no record of employment, no known associates. As far as ARGUS knows, he's about as lone-wolf as lone wolves can get."
"Everyone has friends."
"True enough, but if he does, they can't find any. He's…virtually a ghost." She leaned toward the screen and let out a dry snicker. "Says here most of the criminals who live to tell the tale claim he's the quote 'grim reaper of the underworld.'"
Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "Classy."
"Hey," she muttered, "not like he picked it."
"Cops called you the Hood for the longest time," Roy pointed out.
Oliver shrugged. "Point. So why is he in Starling City?"
"I've got…no idea. Typically he takes on terrorist organizations, organized crime, even the occasional international assassin."
"Sounds kinda like us," Roy pointed out.
"Except somehow he does it all on his own."
Oliver shook his head. "That's impossible," he said with certainty. "He gets his intel from somewhere. Just need to find the right thread to tug on."
"So," Roy began, "why is it you want to find this guy so badly?"
He took a breath. "He's…an unknown. A wild card." He shook his head. "I don't like wild cards in my city. They tend to cause a lot of problems."
"And you're sure the fact that he kicked your ass isn't the majority of your issue?"
Oliver gave him a deadpanned look.
Roy lifted his hands in surrender. "I'm just sayin'. Personally, I'd want to find someone like that too."
"Well you just might have your chance," Felicity said, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Cops reported a break-in on Ninth and Draw…but they're diverting their men elsewhere for some reason." A crease formed on her forehead. "Hold on." A few rapid keystrokes. "The signal…the transmission diverting them. It's not coming from the police dispatch."
Oliver's features shifted in realization. "It's coming from him."
His bow left its rack a few moments later.
…
10 minutes later
"Roy, you're on the perimeter. If he gets past me, you make sure he doesn't get away, but do not engage."
"Got it."
The red-clad archer curved off as Oliver kept up his approach, the target a medium-sized warehouse with three floors and quite the square footage. The entrance was barred, but not for long. A single explosive arrow sent sparks blooming across its destroyed middle, the double-doors parting to reveal a half-dozen bodies with bullet holes, two of them not breathing. Oliver nocked an impact arrow a moment later, scanning the area for signs of life. Ten seconds after his explosive entrance, the sounds of gunfire were heard from deeper inside. He fell into a sprint and collapsed his bow briefly, using both hands to climb an I-beam to the second floor.
He made his way across the catwalks, approaching the source of the ruckus from above and drawing back an arrow only to let his bowstring and jaw slacken at the sight below. Ten bodies lay strewn across the concrete floor of the warehouse, most of them groaning or writhing in some form of pain, sparse bloodstains littering the ground around them.
"I gotta say," a bass voice said from his left, causing him to snap to and draw an arrow instantly. "Was kinda hoping you'd show up."
Oliver immediately began noting the clothing of his target, some of the individual articles different but the overall dark scheme the same as the first time they'd met. The same black balaclava was in place, obscuring the entirety of his features except his eyes, which were the same piercing dark. "Caden, I presume?" He could almost hear the smile in his response.
"Ah, so you looked me up. Smart man. Always best to know who you're dealing with…although I suspect the ARGUS database has a few holes where I'm concerned."
The Arrow's eyebrows furrowed. "How did you—?"
"Who else would you go to? Amanda Waller and her attack dogs are the only ones who've come anywhere close to catching me."
Oliver clenched his jaw.
"Now," said Caden, raising two hands, "before you get the wrong idea, I didn't come to Starling City to pick a fight with you."
"Then why did you come here?"
His hands curled into fists. "Probably for the same reason you were in that building the other night. A mysterious signal with references to a Doctor Death, perhaps?"
With a slow exhale, Oliver slowly relaxed the bowstring, lowering his bow. "What do you know about him?"
Caden looked away and leaned against the catwalk's railing. "More than I'd like to. Suffice to say that if he's in Starling, that's not a good thing, especially with the entourage he brought with him."
"Entourage?"
The black-clad man turned his head to face him and breathed in deeply. "One thing at a time. Trust has to be built, and though I've given you no reasons to extend it to me, the same could be said of you. After all, your first action was to level an arrow at my chest, which, admittedly, should be the response to finding a mysterious individual standing over two bodies." Caden straightened and started walking toward the nearest second-story exit. "All the same," he called back, "I like to establish rapport before exchanging secrets."
Oliver was approaching him at a fast walk. "And this doctor's mission is a secret?"
"Until I know more about him and you, yes." He stopped mid-step, turning to lock eyes with the Arrow. "Although I imagine I already know more about you than you'd like…Oliver."
The Arrow just stared at him uncomprehendingly as his body went numb, brain barely registering Caden's exit or the way both Roy and Felicity declared his rapid and unbelievably easy escape over comms. Only her worried and somewhat frenzied cries over the link brought him back to the present.
"Oliver, what happened?"
"I…he…" He scowled. "He knows," he growled. "He knows who I am."
Hello readers and welcome all to my latest project. For those of you who've read Transformers: Partners or New Marvel: Caden, you'll recognize my latest character insertion. Yes, it is the exact same persona with the exact same backstory…with a few minor alterations to fit the Arrow/DC universe. I know some of you may feel that using the same character is a cop-out for me as a writer. I don't see it that way. I see it as an opportunity to take a character who I've refined to a tee, much the same way any comic character is, and test him out in various situations and continuities.
If high action and mystery aren't your cups of tea, feel free to move on. If they are, then stick around and come back every Wednesday for more. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter and are looking forward to how this all plays out. Until next time, oya ner vode and please review and recommend.
P.S.: I haven't yet decided where I want to stop, but I fully intend on there being overlap with season 3…with a few minor, minor alterations, but not enough to really influence the established storyline.
Musical Inspirations:
Arrow (Season 2) – Time to Come Home: 0:15-end—leap onto the skylight to "he's gone"
