"You remember this little game, Oliver." His words dripping with resentment, Slade had become unrecognizable from their time together on the island. "Go on. Pick one," he barked, gripping a handgun, arm outstretched. Oliver Queen's worst nightmare was playing out before him. Laurel and Felicity were kneeling on the ground, bandages covering their mouths and wrapped around their wrists behind their backs. His arrow aimed in Slade's direction, Oliver froze, paralyzed with fear.
"Can't decide? That's alright." He cocked the gun. "Allow me."
24 Hours Earlier
The Arrow waited in the darkness of Sebastian Blood's office. It was dawn, but Oliver knew Blood would be here soon; he had been arriving around this time all week. Finally, Oliver could hear the sound of footsteps, and the door swung open with a squeak. Sebastian Blood flipped the light switch, illuminating the fairly small, but neat office. The Arrow stood only feet away with his arrow drawn. For a second, Blood felt a surge of fear, but he quickly pushed it away. Before he could make a move, Oliver spoke. "Don't move. Who's in charge?"
"Well, right now it seems you have the upper hand, Arrow," Blood quipped.
Not one for jokes or dillydallying, Oliver raised his voice. "I don't have the time, Blood. Answer me, who are you working for?"
"Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to discuss-"
At that, Oliver released his arrow, piercing the door just next to Blood's head. "I only kill when I have to, but I will not hesitate to inflict pain. Do you want an arrow in you or not?"
"Why don't you try Moira Queen? I'm sure it would be much easier to get her to talk."
"What? What does she have to do with anything?" Oliver shot back, trying to steady his voice.
"I'll just say this: her closet isn't completely in the clear." Blood continued, unable to hide his amusement. "If you think Malcolm Merlyn was the big man on campus, you better think again."
Oliver lowered his weapon and headed for the door, never taking an eye off of Blood. "This is nowhere near over, Blood," Oliver warned, turning.
Blood chuckled, "No. I'm afraid this is only the beginning."
"I can't do this forever, Dig." Back in the Arrowcave, Oliver was sitting down in a swivel chair, head back in exhaustion. Being Starling City's protector was weighing on him, especially after his encounter with Blood. John Diggle stood in front of him, his face wrinkled in confusion.
"You're just now realizing this, Oliver?" Diggle retorted.
"I'm tired, Diggle," Oliver sighed.
"Of what?"
"…Of digging up more dirt than I wanted to, of carrying this burden of saving the city on my shoulders, of all of it." Suddenly, Oliver jumped up out of his seat. He spoke again, his eyes meeting Diggle's. "But I don't have to anymore," Oliver said. Roy's training has been going great – it's his turn now," he said with finality, and spun on his heel.
"Oliver, where is all this coming from? When we talked on the phone you sounded awfully ready to take Blood down, but now you're ready to hang up the bow?"
He paused, turning his head. "Things change."
"Oliver!" Diggle called after him. But it was no use; Oliver had disappeared.
Laurel Lance was rummaging through her dresser drawer when she heard the sound of someone knocking on her door. "One minute!" she yelled. As she closed the drawer, something came over her, a combination of weakness and lightheadedness. She slumped to the floor, banging the dresser.
Oliver was on the other side of the door, waiting patiently until he heard a soft thump. He stiffened, concern pulsing through him. He waited another minute before bolting forward and yelling through the door. "Laurel?" Silence. "Laurel!" Oliver stepped back, slightly rotated his body, and kicked out his leg toward the door. His foot connected with the door and it flew open. Laurel's apartment looked the same as it always did; nothing appeared to be amiss. "Laurel?" he called again, to no avail. Oliver jerked his head around in search of her. He made his way to the bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks.
In the room were several hooded men in black ninja-esque garb that covered everything except their eyes. Except these "ninjas" bore metal chest plates and spiky gloves. On their backs lay at least two long swords crisscrossing each other. One was cradling Laurel in his arms.
"Put her down," Oliver ordered. After a moment, the man holding Laurel nodded toward another, as if to signal something. Oliver started to move toward the shrouded figures, but hardly made any progress when a fist met his face and the world went black.
Oliver's eyes fluttered open. Everything was blurry, but a few blinks later everything went back to normal. He sat bolt upright, heart racing. His ringtone played persistently until finally, he pulled it out of his pocket and pressed the answer button. "Yeah?" he said in a daze, rising to his feet.
"Oliver, we have a problem." It was Diggle.
"Not now, Dig," Oliver replied quickly, and hung up the phone. Oliver instantly ran for the bedroom and then back out. He was now alone in the apartment. His ringtone started playing again, and this time he yanked the phone out. "I'm serious, Diggle." Oliver's voice was a mixture of urgency and irritation.
"I'm serious, too, Oliver. We have a problem." If Diggle sounded this worried before, Oliver had failed to notice.
"Look, I really need to deal with something right now. If it can wait-"
Diggle cut him off. "It's Felicity. She's gone."