Old Ghosts
The day had been going so wonderfully, until Oliver Queen got exactly the wrong type of call from his old friend Anatoli Kynazev.
"Hey, tovarich," the head of the bratva in Russia greeted Oliver, who could hear the smile in Anatoli's voice. "I have some news for you. Maybe you'll think it's good, maybe not. Depends on the kind of costume you were planning on wearing tonight, I think."
"So, considering I was looking forward to spending a night off with my friends and family watching a marathon of wonderfully horrible B-movies," Oliver said, "I'm assuming this is news of the 'bad' variety. What's up?"
"Another one of our brothers in Starling has gotten word that the Italians are making a play to move guns through your city, and the deal is going down tonight."
"Which family?"
"Falcone."
Shit.
"I thought their turf was Gotham, Anatoli."
"It was, true," the other bratva replied, "but lately the Batman seems to be scaring them out of their usual rat-holes. So they've come scurrying down to you."
"Wonderful," Oliver said dryly. "Okay, I'll take care of it. I think I might have a way to do it quickly, too."
"The faster, the better," Anatoli said. "The exchange is happening at 9:00 p.m. your time, at the warehouse on Bermejo Drive. Should be easy enough to spot."
"Thank you for the heads-up, my friend."
"Of course! Don't even mention it. I get to help you, and make life difficult for the Falcone family? I wouldn't miss that chance for anything. I only regret I will not be around to share a drink with you to toast your success!"
Oliver smiled.
"Perhaps soon," he said. "And hopefully the visit won't be quite as eventful as my last one was."
Anatoli chuckled.
"Let us hope. Good luck, Oliver."
"And to you, my friend."
The line went dead, and Oliver waited a few heartbeats before punching a new number into his phone. It took the person on the other end of the line a few rings to answer, but when they finally did there was no mistaking the excitement in their voice.
"Hey, Ollie! Great to hear from you. Sorry about the delay there; I was analyzing some samples here in the lab."
"Not a problem, Barry," Oliver said, smiling at Barry's constant enthusiasm. "Listen— I talked to Felicity earlier, and there's something she wants you to come down and take a look at. Something about, I dunno, the micro-tech in our R&D's new Kevlar vest design."
Barry went quiet for a moment or two at the mention of 'Kevlar', one of Oliver's code-words for talking about a possible Arrow operation over a potentially unsecure line.
"Sure, I can make it down. When's the lab closing for the night?"
"9:00 sharp."
"Okay. I'll call it a day early here, then. See you in a bit, Ollie."
"You sure? I don't want your boss getting pissed at you again because of me."
Barry laughed.
"Don't worry about that. Turns out, when the right people in the office know just how good you are at your job, they're a lot more interested in keeping you around."
Oliver laughed.
"Okay, if you say so," he said. "See you soon."
He hung up the phone, knowing full well that Barry had been referring to his 'other' job, moonlighting as the vigilante Central City was calling 'The Flash'.
Oliver's attention was drawn to the stairs as the sound of footsteps echoed around Team Arrow's base, which Thea had taken to calling 'The Quiver'. Sara had picked it up, and after that it'd stuck.
"Hey."
Speak of the devil.
"Hey, Sara. What's up?"
"Just checking to make sure we're still on for tonight," she said as she reached the bottom of the stairs, walking over toward Oliver with a smile on her face. "You should see Thea, she's about one cup of coffee away from bouncing off the walls she's so excited. Thank you for doing this, Ollie," Sara finished, her voice and smile softening into a level of intimate vulnerability she only showed around him, and occasionally Felicity. "It means a lot to Thea. And the rest of us, obviously, but especially to her."
"I know," Oliver said, smiling in kind. "It's about time I started actually acting like her brother, Sara."
"Well, you're doing a great job so far," she said, leaning up slightly and kissing Oliver lightly on the lips. "Keep it up."
"I'll try my best. I'm just surprised she decided to come back at all, after everything that happened."
"Don't be," Sara replied. "She came back because she loves you, not because of charity."
Oliver drew her into an embrace, resting his head so that his mouth was near Sara's ear.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"You never have to thank me for something like that," Sara said. "I know you'd do the same for me."
They broke apart, and Sara stared intently at Oliver's face just long enough to make him slightly nervous, and even the way her face scrunched up adorably didn't help that go away.
"Something wrong?"
"I know that hug," she said. "That was a 'I'm going to be doing something dangerous later so I want to make this count' hug, Ollie."
Oliver half-frowned, both touched and irritated by the fact that Sara knew him so well.
"Yeah," he said, "it was. Guilty as charged. I got a call from Anatoli."
"What does he want?"
"Nothing. He just gave me intel on a shipment of guns some mobsters from Gotham are going to try to run through Starling tonight."
"And are they planning on doing this before 11:00?"
"Sara…"
"Ollie, you have plans. Important plans. Call in the SCPD if you have to, just don't dash out on Thea again. I thought you said you were done doing that."
"The exchange is happening at 9:00," Oliver said. "I'll leave early to do recon, and be done with the job and back home by 11:00. I promise."
"Fine," Sara said, "but I'm coming with you."
"No, this is your day off. Don't worry, I'll be fine."
"This was supposed to be your day off too, Ollie. Look how that turned out."
"I…" he stalled, sighing. "I don't think this is something the SCPD can handle on their own, Sara."
"But you still don't want me backing you up? That doesn't make sense."
Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the odd, jarring sound of loud buzzing coming from a nearby wall. Sara heard it too, and turned towards it with a confused look on her face.
"What the hell is that noise?"
A few seconds later, the question was answered as the blurry image of a vaguely human body seemed to pass straight through the solid wall and into the main room. As soon as it stopped moving, Oliver and Sara were both surprised at who their visitor was.
"Barry?" Oliver asked first, still sounding shocked. "How the hell did you just do that?"
Barry Allen smiled, his hands instinctively brushing off his jacket even though it was completely clean.
"I vibrated my atoms at the same frequency as the wall," he explained. "Phased right through it. New trick I figured out a few days ago. Cool, right?"
The awed silence remained, and Barry finally saw Sara standing there.
"Oh, hey Sara," he said, smiling almost sheepishly. "How you been?"
"Good," Sara said slowly, still sounding mystified. "You Oliver's wingman on this?"
"Yeah, I am," Barry said, smiling more confidently this time. "Been too long since the last time I really got to run. Looking forward to it."
"Okay then," she replied. "Suddenly, I'm not quite so worried. But I do still want to go with you, Ollie," Sara finished, looking back over at her boyfriend pointedly.
"Sara—"
"Don't even start. I know something's going to go bad at this meeting. Something always does. And when that happens, I want to be there for it. Who's running the guns this time?"
Oliver bit back the words on the tip of his tongue and answered the question instead.
"The Falcone family."
"Then I'm coming with you," Sara insisted, the look on her face brooking no argument. "I don't know how much you have on them, Ollie, but I ran across the Falconi more than a few times when I was with the League. When they run an operation, and especially a big one, they don't take any chances."
Oliver began to say something else, but was cut off yet again. This time, the culprit was a loud rumbling sound from Barry's stomach.
"Sorry," he apologized. "I guess that move burns more calories than I thought. Have you grabbed lunch yet?"
"No," Oliver said, a small smile quirking his lips despite his efforts to hide it. "C'mon, we can get some Belly Burger. No sense busting up a mafia gun-run on an empty stomach, right?"
"Sounds good to me. You coming, Sara?"
"You bet," she answered, flashing Barry a smile. "Can't have you two running off on me, can I?"
Barry grinned.
"Somehow, I don't think you could catch me."
"Maybe not me," Sara allowed, "but I know someone who could," she added, her voice turning teasing.
Barry laughed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
"Okay, okay," he conceded, "you win. I'm not going anywhere."
The pair sat at a segment of a larger, empty table inside Belly Burger. The restaurant was mostly-vacant following the end of the lunch rush, and so Carly watched them from her place behind the main counter to fill her time in between breaks from various smaller tasks.
The two customers were a man and a young woman, the man looking to be about Oliver Queen's age and the young woman seeming about as old as Oliver's younger sister. The young woman didn't look like she could speak, instead resorting to sign-language and the occasional exaggerated gesture in order to make herself understood. But the young man seemed perfectly capable of keeping up, and Carly was content just to enjoy watching how happy they looked.
It was a look very much like two soldiers enjoying a brief rest from duty—something Carly hadn't failed to notice on the faces of John and his friend Oliver Queen when they'd come in for dinner after a long day of… doing whatever it was they did together.
Carly made her way over to the table, smiling at the pair.
"Anything else I can get you?"
"I think we're fine, thank you," the young man said, his blue eyes shifting color slightly in the light as he smiled. "Just the check, please."
"Sure thing," Carly said, but the last word was swallowed up by the sound of the doorbell announcing the arrival of new customers. A shadow of surprise passed over the man's face for the briefest of moments before he concealed it again, and Carly glanced over to see that Oliver Queen and two of his friends had walked in.
"Actually," the young man said, his voice now sounding oddly strained around the edges, "I'd love another glass of water, please."
"Sure thing," Carly said, before the young woman looked at her and raised a finger. "Two glasses of water, then," Carly amended, smiling again as the young woman nodded. "Not a problem."
After Carly had left, the young man sat back in his chair and waited for the newcomers to notice him.
"Don't turn around, Cass," he told his companion. "One of your old friends just walked in. No," he added quickly, seeing the coldly intent look on her face. "Not anyone in the League. If that happened, I wouldn't be asking for more water."
It took Sara Lance ten seconds to notice him. She was getting sloppy. The look of complete shock on her face was definitely amusing, though. He'd give her at least that much. He waved her over with a gesture, and it wasn't long before the three newcomers were making their way towards the long table. When they finally came within speaking distance, it was Sara who broke the silence.
"Grayson."
"Lance," the young man replied, smiling. "Been a while."
Grayson's companion finally turned around sharply at the sound of Sara's voice, her dark eyes wide with surprise. When Sara recognized her, her own face took on a stunned expression.
"Cassandra…?" Sara breathed out, not believing her eyes. "I… I thought…"
Cassandra was on her feet in the blink of an eye, drawing Sara into a fierce embrace. Oliver and Barry had been watching the whole exchange with tense looks on their faces, but relaxed and moved to sit down at last once it was clear these strangers were friends of Sara's.
"I feel like I'm walking in on an epilogue here," Oliver said to Grayson, regarding the other young man intently. "What'd I miss?"
"Not a whole lot," Grayson answered calmly. "I met Sara a few years back, when she was still running with the League of Assassins. She had Cassandra there with her on a job she was running in Gotham. My boss and I took 'em down, and that's pretty much where the story ends. I'm Dick Grayson, by the way," he finished, holding out a hand.
"Oliver Queen," Oliver said as he shook Grayson's hand, his tone carefully measured.
"Barry Allen," Barry introduced himself with another handshake, just as cautious.
"So," Oliver said, after Sara and Cassandra had sat back down again, "what brings you to Starling City?"
"Tracking someone from Gotham," Grayson said. "Kind of inconvenient when we have to cross state lines to take out our trash, but what can you do?"
Oliver glanced over at Sara. She was sitting and staring ahead at nothing in particular, looking as shell-shocked as Oliver had ever seen her.
"Sara?" he asked, his voice quiet with concern. "You okay?"
"Not really, Ollie," she said at last, her own voice frayed. "Dick left some stuff out of his little story, to say the least. You're here for the Falcone thugs, aren't you?" she asked Grayson, some life coming back into her voice as she fixed him with a pointed stare.
Grayson nodded, his mouth twitching into a guarded smile.
"You're pretty well-informed, Lance," he said. "Then again, all things considered," here his gaze shifted slightly over to Oliver and Barry, "that's not too surprising."
Carly chose that moment to come back to the table with the waters, instantly reading the awkward tension in the air and putting on her best smile.
"Here you go," she said, handing the waters to Grayson and Cassandra. "Can I get you guys anything?"
"I'll have a cheeseburger, everything but the onions, thanks," Barry said. Oliver and Sara quickly followed in 'I'll have the same' lockstep, too distracted for anything else.
"Put those on my check, please," Grayson was quick to say, and Carly nodded.
"Sure thing."
"You don't have to—" Oliver began to protest, only to be cut off by a dismissive hand-wave from Grayson.
"Yes, I really do," he replied. As soon as Carly was out of earshot, Grayson elaborated. "Least I can do to thank the people who finally took down Slade Wilson, after all."
The atmosphere at the table changed in an instant, with Oliver and Barry sitting straight up with barely-restrained tension at the implication of Grayson's words.
"How do you know about that?" Oliver asked at last, his voice just as tense as his muscles. "How do you know who we are?"
Grayson smiled.
"I know a guy who knows things," he said. "Lots of things, about lots of people."
"What Dick is trying to say is that he works with Batman," Sara broke in, eager to diffuse what had become a very awkward situation. "Relax, Ollie. He's one of the good guys."
"Way to steal my thunder, Lance," Grayson replied, mock-offended. "But yeah, that's basically the gist of it. Batman makes a habit of keeping track of the other big-shot vigilantes across the country, just in case they ever go rogue."
"Well, that's… comforting," Barry said, cracking a nervous smile.
"Sara mentioned you left a few things out of your story earlier," Oliver rejoined, the hostility gone from his eyes as he spoke to Grayson. "Care to give us the unabridged version?"
"What, right now?"
"We've got time. Shouldn't take the five of us very long to stake out the warehouse, after all."
Grayson sighed, seeing no way to argue with that. Looking around carefully to make sure they wouldn't be overheard, he began.
"A few years back, someone hired the League to carry a hit out on Renee Montoya. Batman and I got wind of it, so naturally we decided to throw a wrench into Ra's' plan. We tracked down the agents, and wound up going toe-to-toe with those two lovely ladies," Grayson explained, gesturing over to Sara and Cassandra. "Put up a hell of a fight, too, by the way," he added, drawing a small, proud smile out of Cassandra. "We won in the end, though, but it was close."
Oliver looked over at Sara, watching her carefully. He could tell there was something about this she wasn't saying, but he also knew better than to force the issue before she was ready to talk about it. Cassandra tapped Sara twice on the arm, waiting until she was sure she had her attention before making a series of signs. Sara smiled tiredly, putting her hand gently over Cassandra's.
"I know," she said simply, and left it at that.
The food arrived a few moments later, and Sara, Barry and Oliver ate it in silence. Sara ate her whole burger with one hand, as Cassandra had taken hold of the other one and refused to let it go. Oliver guessed that the confrontation Grayson had mentioned had ended with Cassandra being seriously injured and taken in by Batman—the look on Sara's face was pure survivor's guilt.
Barry's cellphone rang just as they were finishing up their lunch, and from the look on his face Oliver and Sara knew who was calling before he'd even said a word.
"Hey, Felicity. Yeah, things're good. I'm actually in Starling right now. Having lunch with Ollie and Sara. No, Belly Burger. You want me to bring you anything? All right. What? Why would you think that? Yeah, he's right here. No, he's not still eating."
Barry handed the phone to Oliver, looking apologetic.
"Pretty sure she knows," he said, and Oliver frowned as he took the phone.
"You just gave him a mean look, didn't you?" Felicity asked on the other end of the line, and Oliver could see the disapproving, pursed-lipped glare on her face. The image normally would have made him smile, but not right now.
"Maybe."
"Come on, Oliver. I would have found out as soon as you came back here to suit up."
He sighed, relenting.
"Fair."
"That's better. I'll see you soon."
Oliver killed the call, handing Barry back his phone.
"There's an abandoned building that used to be a photo-development store not too far from the warehouse where the exchange is happening," he said. "Let's meet up there at 6:00 and do our recon."
"Works for me," Grayson said, leaving enough money on the table for a one-hundred percent tip as he got up. "C'mon, Cass. Let's go."
But Cassandra refused to move from her seat, looking up at Grayson and shaking her head in a minute, controlled movement. He shrugged.
"Okay then," he said, "however you want to play it. See you at 6:00."
Grayson left the restaurant without another word, and the remaining four got up soon after. As they were walking to the door, Oliver spoke.
"Cassandra."
She turned, looking at him with an expression that was at once both calm and incredibly focused.
To Sara's surprise, Oliver produced a seamless string of signs.
"When we get back to base, feel free to make yourself at home. Any friend of Sara's is a friend of mine. And nice to meet you, too."
Cassandra's look of surprise vanished almost as quickly as it had come, and she smiled.
"I didn't know you could sign," Sara said as they approached the car, quietly enough so that only Oliver could hear.
He shrugged.
"I knew someone at college who was deaf," he said. "He didn't have many friends."
He let it go at that, but his simple explanation was more than enough for Sara. She smiled, ruffling Oliver's hair affectionately.
"And you wonder why I came back for you," she said. "You really need to start giving yourself more credit, Ollie."
He gave her a half-smile.
"Maybe."
Barry drove and Oliver rode shotgun, leaving the backseat free for Sara and Cassandra.
"So, I'm guessing you want to know about what I meant when I said Dick had let some stuff out of his story earlier, right?" Sara asked.
"Yeah, I do," Oliver answered, "but only when you're ready for it. We have time."
"Might as well be now," she said. "I hate waiting on stuff like this." Sara took a breath to collect herself, and began.
"The hit on Montoya was assigned to us by Cass's father, David Cain," Sara said. "One of the most rotten pieces of shit I've ever met, for what it's worth. Nyssa had to hold me back from trying to kill him more than a few times. Honestly, if Ra's didn't need his abilities as much as he does, Cain would probably already be dead.
"Anyway," she continued, closing her eyes and focusing to clear away the bad memories, "Cain wanted us to kill Montoya, so we came to Gotham. We weren't expecting to run into Batman and Grayson, but we did. But knowing what I do now about Batman and the League, I guess it wasn't too surprising that he could track us down.
"We fought for what felt like hours. We couldn't kill them, and they refused to kill us. It was brutal. In the end, Cass decided to blow out the concrete supports of a roof we were fighting under—but only after getting me out of the way.
"I thought you were dead," Sara said quietly, turning to address Cassandra directly. "I mean, I should've known better, obviously, but… god, it hurt."
Oliver felt like he'd been punched in the gut, hearing that Sara had been forced to go through that kind of pain yet again.
"And that was when you started to have doubts about the League, right?" Barry asked, and Sara nodded at the insight.
"Yeah. After that, it was only a matter of time. I think Ra's and Nyssa saw it coming, now that I think about it… but they let me go anyway. I guess they wanted to see if I was strong enough to make it on my own."
"And Cassandra, I'm guessing Batman and Grayson took you in and trained you after the fight?" Oliver asked, receiving a nod from Cassandra in return. "And the League never came after you?"
Cassandra shook her head adamantly.
"Like I said," Sara broke back in, "Batman has a past with the League. He's probably the only person in the world Ra's won't think about harming. I have no idea why, but that's not the sort of thing someone like Ra's just talks about."
"So you've seen him, then?" Barry asked. "Ra's al-Ghul, in the flesh?"
"Yeah, of course," Sara said, as if meeting a pseudo-mythical super-assassin warlord was no more remarkable than the sunny weather outside. "He's a lot like my grandpa was, actually. Minus the mass murder, of course, but he's surprisingly nice to his followers."
"I'll take your word for it," Barry said, shaking his head in wonder. "Man, being a superhero is weird."
"Tell me about it," Oliver said, retreating into his thoughts and wondering what the rest of the night might have in store for them.
When the four of them returned to Verdant and walked down into the Quiver, Oliver was not at all surprised to find Felicity and Diggle already waiting for them.
"Hey, gu—who's that?" Felicity asked upon seeing Cassandra walk down the stairs, quickly taking in the space with a trained eye.
"Old friend of mine," Sara said. "Cassandra Wu-San. Cassandra, this is Felicity, and the handsomely-brooding guy over there is Diggle. Guys, meet Cassandra."
"Pleasure," Felicity said, smiling.
"Hey," Diggle said curtly, but not without warmth. He figured that anyone Oliver let down into their base of operations could be counted on as an ally, so his hands stayed crossed over his chest rather than moving down towards his sidearm.
It didn't take Cassandra long to notice the wooden training dummy, and she smiled. Taking off the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing and tossing onto a floor-mat, revealing a plain black shirt underneath. That was next to go, revealing various scars on the parts of her torso not covered by the sports-bra she was wearing. Her sweatpants stayed on, as they were a close enough fit to not impede movement. Cassandra reached down to touch her toes, stretching out the stiffness in her muscles. She then leaned back until her hands had reached the mat, her body forming the shape of an arch. She held that position for a full minute before straightening back up again, rolling her shoulders and sighing in satisfaction.
Sara smirked as Cassandra advanced on the dummy, leaning over to whisper to Oliver.
"Don't blink," she said.
Oliver was about to ask why, when Cassandra started attacking the dummy and answered the question for him.
Her movements were some of the fastest Oliver had ever seen, to the point that without the telltale sounds of impact from punches to the dummy it was almost impossible to track Cassandra's hands as they struck. She moved with instinctive, liquid grace, fists and elbows and the occasional knee or kick flowing together so seamlessly that it seemed like Cassandra been doing this from the day she'd been born.
And knowing the League of Assassins, Oliver mused darkly to himself, it wouldn't have surprised him if that were true.
"Holy shit," Diggle breathed, and Sara's smirk turned into a chuckle.
"Right?" she said, before looking at Oliver again and having a thought. "You should spar with her."
"I'm sorry?" Oliver asked, glancing at Sara most skeptically. "I should what?"
"Spar," Sara repeated. "It's how she warms up to people. Has to do with why she can't speak, which is a story I don't want to get into right now. But if we're going to work together as a team, she needs to trust you. Actually trust you."
"Fine," Oliver said, stripping off his own sweatshirt and tee-shirt as he stepped onto the large mat that made up the training area. "Cassandra."
Cassandra stopped attacking the dummy at the sound of her name, turning to face Oliver. She immediately saw the scars on his upper body, quickly taking them in one at a time.
Sword wound across abdomen: likely reduced flexibility.
Scarring across pectoral muscle consistent with the shape of claws: has fought wild animals before. Will not scare easily, likely to adopt more feral fighting techniques if needed to win.
Several bullet scars: highly resistant to pain. Sustained assault likely required for victory.
As Oliver settled into a fighting stance and Cassandra did the same, she took note of his movements.
Favors his right leg by a narrow margin. Possible substantial injury to left leg in past, likely the knee.
Does not seem to be tensing one arm more than the other. Potentially ambidextrous, do not focus assault on one side at the expense of ignoring the other.
Fighting stance not any clear formal variety. Clearly learned with survival a priority, technique secondary. Still, unpredictability not to be underestimated. Try to exploit flaws in attacks.
Seems to concentrate muscle tension far more in upper body than lower. Expect punches more than kicks. Neutralize arms as fast as possible.
Cassandra stood still, waiting for Oliver to make the first strike. He did, a quick jab towards her shoulder that was easily dodged without moving her feet.
Cautious. Testing. Wants to see what I can do before committing to a full attack. Not a lack of confidence, as he is a veteran. Fear, then. He will hesitate in the face of an unknown approach. I must not be predictable.
Cassandra threw a punch of her own, a relatively light tap against Oliver's bratva tattoo.
He did not dodge. Interesting. Testing my strength, then. It is good I held back. I still have the upper hand.
"I'll stop holding back if you will," Oliver said, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Cassandra couldn't keep from smiling.
Certainly cannot underestimate him. Has built career as a vigilante out of dissimulation, theatrics and misdirection. Foolish of me to think I was exempt. Must attempt to adapt to his approach during the spar.
She struck, faster and harder this time, aiming for Oliver's right arm. His left arm crossed over to catch her fist, stopping the blow completely.
Quick. Very quick. This will be… fun.
Taking advantage of Oliver's skewed weight shift, Cassandra shifted her own weight back and followed with a jumping kick that used both legs, intent on wrapping around to Oliver's back and trapping him in a submission hold once they both hit the floor. Oliver leaned forward instinctively, assuming Cassandra was aiming for his head.
Good.
The lean gave Cassandra all the space she needed to get her legs behind Oliver, and the sudden position change was enough of a surprise to loosen Oliver's grip on Cassandra's hand. Now that she was behind him, a sharp kick to his right leg was enough to shake the foundation of his stance. Not wanting to end the fight yet, Cassandra quickly circled around to face Oliver again.
"Thought you weren't gonna hold back," he said between breaths, getting back to his feet. "Why not finish it?"
Cassandra took the pause to sign her answer.
"We are not done talking yet."
Oliver felt like he was beginning to understand what Sara had meant, even if not completely quite yet.
Cassandra waited until she was sure Oliver was stable before moving again, striking out with a teasing feint aimed at the left side of his head. Oliver read her intentions perfectly, not budging in the slightest.
"I know what a real punch looks like, thanks," he said with a smirk as he stepped to the right before beginning a flurry of punches and elbow strikes.
Fast, but precise. His control is… admirable.
Cassandra dodged through the unrelenting wave one strike at a time, noting that the pace of the attacks didn't speed up or become more erratic as they went on.
Not easily frustrated, unlike Damian. Consistent, able to compartmentalize emotions. My mother would like him, I think.
Finally seeing an opening a few seconds later, Cassandra blocked one of Oliver's punches by catching the inside of his arm and pushing it back, creating a wide enough opening for a counter-punch of her own. As Oliver reeled back a step and a half, she took two quick steps backward and then dashed forward, shifting her momentum into a sweeping kick that cut Oliver's legs out from under him. Cassandra's foot was putting pressure on Oliver's sternum as soon as his back hit the mat, just enough to keep him pinned.
"Not bad," Oliver said, a smile on his face. "I'd hate to have to fight you seriously."
Cassandra smiled as well, taking her foot off his chest and offering a hand in its place. Oliver took it and got to his feet, giving Cassandra a nod of respect. She returned the gesture, and the two fighters parted.
"Hey, Cass," Sara called over a few moments later, "you have enough left for one more round? Just watching you two was making me feel lazy."
As the two old friends prepared themselves for another round of sparring and Oliver sat down to catch his breath, Felicity approached Barry and guided him back over to stand by the bank of computers with her.
"So, it's not that I don't trust Sara or anything, because I totally do," Felicity said, "but seriously, Barry, who is she? I feel like I'm missing out on something big here, and you know how I feel about missing out on things."
"Cassandra used to work with the League of Assassins," Barry explained. "That's how she knows Sara. But things went bad, and now she works for the Batman up in Gotham."
"Oookay," Felicity said slowly, "That's totally not suspicious or anything, but it still doesn't explain how she got from Gotham City down here."
"She's helping to track a shipment of guns that the Gotham mafia are trying to run through Starling."
"The mafia?" Felicity asked, her voice taking on a completely different tone from the one Barry was used to hearing. It was like a shock had passed through her body, causing her whole body to stiffen up just enough to be noticeable. "Which family?"
"Why would that matter?" Barry asked, concerned.
"Barry, I grew up in Las Vegas," Felicity said flatly, giving him a pointed look. "It matters. Which family?"
"Falcone."
"Shit," Felicity hissed, the tension in her muscles only increasing. "Shit, shit, shit shit shit shit."
"What's wrong? Hey, you all right?" Barry asked, reaching out and putting a tentative hand on Felicity's shoulder. Felicity reached up and took hold of it, squeezing tightly as she fought to calm herself back down with long, slow breaths.
"I'll be fine," she said after a few moments. "Just some… bad memories. Some very bad memories. Thanks, Barry," she added, smiling warmly at him.
Barry retuned the gesture, before leaning in and kissing Felicity on the forehead.
"Anytime," he said. "Sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"
"Believe me," Felicity replied, "the last thing I ever want to talk about is my scumbag of a dad."
"Fair enough," he said. "I just know how hard it can be to deal with… that sort of stuff, and everything."
"I know," Felicity said, running a hand through Barry's unruly hair as she smiled again. "And I do appreciate it, seriously. Don't ever think that I don't. Wait, was that… yeah, that was grammatically correct. Whew, still got it."
Barry laughed, wondering for about the two-thousandth time since he'd met Felicity how he managed to get so lucky.
"So hey," Felicity asked a moment later, as the pair of them turned to watch Sara and Cassandra's spar, "the Batman isn't in on this operation, is he?"
"Not that I know of, no."
"Damn. I really wanted his autograph."
"Somehow, I don't think he's the kind of guy who gives those out."
"Yeah, maybe not, but what if he did, is all I'm saying. Would he sign with, like, a picture of a bat, or would he just write 'Hugs and kisses, Batman'? These are the sorts of things I ponder during my coffee break when I'm not thinking about breaking into Amanda Waller's office and stealing literally everything that isn't bolted down, Barry."
"Hmmm, Batman and the head of ARGUS," Barry mused, a playful smile on his face. "You have some dangerous celebrity crushes, Miss Smoak. Might want to look into those."
"I would, but I'm pretty sure my actual boyfriend tops all that," Felicity said with a smile of her own. "The human race is lucky you haven't caused any kind of freaky quantum reactions yet, what with those near-superluminal speeds you push out on the salt flats every other weekend."
Barry turned the most adorable shade of red Felicity had ever seen at the comment, and she almost felt bad about it. Almost.
"You know about that?" he asked, and Felicity nodded.
"If it's on the government's radar, it's on mine," she said simply. "Might want to take it easy for a while, Barry. We're still getting used to the fact that metahumans even exist, let alone what they can do."
"Noted," Barry replied, nodding as seriously as he could manage. "I just… I just wanted to see what it felt like, what would happen."
"I know," Felicity said, turning to face him. "You're pushing against the fundamental boundaries of the physical universe, Barry, and that is some mind-blowingly awesome stuff. I'm sure the physicists at CERN are sending you about ninety-eight percent of your fanmail. But I just don't want you to get hurt, okay? I don't want you to run off into some wormhole or something and never come back again."
Barry chuckled, drawing Felicity into a hug.
"I won't," he said. "I'll always come back for you. Promise. And just so you know," he added with a smirk as they stepped back from each other, "wormholes are in space. Totally extra-terrestrial."
"I know what a wormhole is, you doofus," Felicity said, shooting Barry another look. "I was being metaphorical."
The pair lapsed into a contented silence as they watched the spar finish up, and then watched everyone do their final pre-mission preparations.
"You ready, Barry?" Oliver asked as he picked up his bow, and Barry nodded.
"Always."
"Grayson have your suit, Cass?" Sara asked, and Cassandra nodded.
"Hey, Ollie," Felicity called out as the four heroes climbed the steps towards the door. "Get these guys for me, all right?"
Oliver nodded, and then they were gone.
"I don't know about you, Felicity," Diggle said after they were alone, "but something about this feels off to me. Once we cross Gotham's mob like this, there's no way we can go back to just being local."
"I'm pretty sure we left 'local' in the dust when we broke into—and out of—a Russian jail to bail out your girlfriend, Dig," Felicity said, settling in behind her computers. "And if Gotham wants to share the love, I say let 'em. Nothing we can't handle, after what went down with Slade."
"Yeah," Diggle said, smiling at Felicity's eternal optimism. "You're right. Let's see how this plays out."
Barry had gone ahead on his own, so Sara, Oliver and Cassandra weren't surprised to see him standing in the old photo shop already talking to Grayson when they arrived. Grayson himself was suited up in a black leotard with some kind of dark blue design over his pectorals, and a domino mask covering his eyes. A pair of escrima sticks were stored in loops fastened to his shoulder-blades, and the guards around his wrists and lower arms were adorned with hooked claws for grappling. After parking their motorcycles nearby, the trio entered the abandoned store.
"Here, Cass," Grayson said as soon as he saw her, tossing a backpack her way. "Suit up."
Cassandra caught the backpack and headed off into a back room, leaving Oliver, Sara, Barry and Grayson to strategize.
"The warehouse only has a few points of entry," Grayson said, "and all the side doors are in plain view of potential sniping positions."
"I can cover those from one building over, no problem," Oliver said.
"Good," Grayson replied. "Sara, you take the west entrance; I'll cover the east. Oliver, when you think the time's right to join in on the fun, come in however you want. Cass, you're with me," he finished, as Cassandra emerged from the back room.
She was wearing a pair of pants similar to a karategi, and a light hooded jacket that Oliver could tell was loosely patterned after the uniform worn by members of the League of Assassins. A black tank-top was visible beneath that, and for a few seconds Oliver was struck by just how much Cassandra looked like a younger version of Shado.
"And what's my job?" Barry asked, looking impatient.
"You're the cavalry," Grayson answered. "We get surrounded, pinned down, or overwhelmed, and Oliver will call you in to do your thing. But until then, we need to keep you in the wings. Your power's more suited to shock-and-awe tactics, and if they know you're coming they'll prepare for it somehow."
"How?" Barry asked, only to have a voice on the other end of his communicator answer the question for him.
"Tripwires, remote explosives, that kind of thing," Felicity said. "Just saying, that's how I'd do it."
"How to tell your girlfriend's plotting to kill you," Barry muttered, smiling.
"Jackass."
"Since we're all here, though, and the sun's down," Grayson said, "we might as well get in position to stake this place out and wait until the guns show up."
Barry, Sara, Oliver and Grayson all left the store, while Cassandra lingered behind, looking through an old album of photographs. Sara came back inside when she noticed Cassandra wasn't with them, standing by the doorframe and looking at her friend curiously.
"Cass? You all right?"
Cassandra continued pouring over the album, fascinated by all the scenes of everyday work and family life, in color and black-and-white. Some of the images were covered in dust, neglected and left behind, but the faces of the people in the photos would never stop smiling.
When Sara saw what Cassandra was so entranced by, she smiled to cover the feeling of her heart breaking just a little inside her chest.
"Come on," she said gently, bringing over Cassandra's backpack and putting the album in its back pocket. "You can finish this when we're done here. Sound good?"
Sure, came the signed response, and they both left the store together.
A few hours later, Oliver was perched up on the rooftop of the building opposite the warehouse with Grayson, Sara and Cassandra, while Barry waited on the ground floor of the same building.
"Okay," Oliver said into his communicator, surveying the outside of the warehouse. "I think I've picked up all the guards over the side entrances. As soon as you say the word, I'll take care of them."
"Roger that," Grayson's voice answered, the other hero taking up a position far enough away from Oliver not to arouse suspicion from the criminals they were staking out.
Oliver looked down at the front entrance again, where someone he hadn't noticed before caught his eye.
"Wait," he said slowly, "is that… no, it can't be."
"Something wrong, Ollie?" Sara asked, and Oliver shook his head.
"That man down there just looks exactly like someone I went up against during my very first mission as the Hood," he said. "Constantine Drakon. But I put an arrow through his chest. He should be dead."
"Death is surprisingly cheap, in my experience," Grayson said. "You should meet my friend Jason sometime."
"Hang on, Oliver," Felicity chimed in. "I just finished hacking the warehouse's CCTV cameras. Running facial recognition on him now, and… yup, it's Drakon all right. You sure you didn't miss when you shot him?"
"Absolutely sure," Oliver said, his voice cold as he was reminded of how ruthless he'd been back in his early days. "If he sees me when we go in there, he's going to drop everything to come after me."
"Predictability isn't a bad thing, Ollie," Sara said, before she let out an audible gasp. "Oh, fuck."
"What is it, Lance?"
"Take a look for yourself, Dick. On my ten o'clock, heading towards Drakon."
There was a tense pause on the line, before Grayson saw what Sara had been pointing him towards.
"Shit," he hissed. "This just got a lot more risky, guys."
"I was waiting for someone to say that," Felicity said, before clearing her throat awkwardly. "Not that that's a good thing, or anything," she recovered quickly. "Just that, y'know, I called it. That always happens. Who showed up?"
"Two people who I was really hoping I'd never see again," Sara answered. "From the League of Assassins."
"Well, at least you'll still have the drop on them, right?" Diggle asked, and Sara shook her head.
"No," she answered. "With the League, you don't see them unless they want you to. They know we're here. We either bail now, or we pray they're not here for us."
"That bad?" Diggle asked, concerned.
"Felicity," Grayson said, "look up the file on Sandra Wu-San, from whatever agencies you can get into."
"Okay, on i— oh my god," Felicity said. "She's on the most-wanted list… just about everywhere that has one of those. Does she have an alias? If she does, she doesn't seem to be a big fan of using it."
"Just one," Grayson said. "Lady Shiva."
"Symbolic. I like it," Felicity said, pausing for thought before continuing. "Wait, her last name is 'Wu-San, and she looks a lot like—"
"There's a reason for that," Sara cut her off, "and it involves a conversation we are absolutely not having right now."
"Okay, so we sorted out who one of them is," Oliver said, intently watching the pair conversing with Drakon. "Who's the other one?"
"Damian," Sara answered. "Talia al-Ghul's son. The League's crown prince."
"How good is he?"
"Very."
Over where Sara was crouched next to Cassandra, Sara looked at her friend concernedly and switched off her communicator.
"You gonna be okay, Cass?"
That doesn't matter, came the reply, a look of resignation in her eyes. We can't walk away now.
Sara nodded, respecting her friend's resolve and letting the topic go.
"Okay," they heard Grayson say over the line as Sara turned her communicator back on, "looks like the buyers just showed up. Let's see who they are, and wait for the transaction to start before we move in."
Oliver watched the vans intently, his hand tightening around his bow as the door opened and he saw someone exit it sporting a very familiar head of strikingly white hair.
"Wonderful," he said. "The Gotham mafia is running guns to the Starling Triad. It's a match made in heaven."
"Wasn't she supposed to be in prison?" Diggle asked, sounding distinctly irritated. "Didn't I put her in prison?"
"Must've gotten out for good behavior," Felicity said. "How do the numbers look, Sara?"
"Not good, unless you like an underdog," Sara replied. "If we wait for the exchange, there're gonna be a lot of killers with guns in there."
"That's why we brought someone who can run faster than a bullet," Oliver said. "If you hear the signal, Barry, do what you do best."
"Roger that, boss."
"Okay," Grayson said, "they're all moving inside. Two minutes, and then we breach. Oliver, ninety seconds until you take out the entrance guards."
"Works for me," Oliver said. "Good luck, guys."
"Same to you," Grayson said.
The next eighty seconds passed slowly for Oliver, as he closed his eyes and sunk into meditation. Breathing in and out slowly, he felt his heart beat and forced it to slow back down into a regular rhythm, smiling as the tension melted away from his muscles. He had defeated soldiers doped up on Mirakuru, and had stopped Slade Wilson more than once. He could do this.
Oliver opened his eyes again, nocked an arrow to his bow, and exhaled. Taking a few of his remaining seconds to make sure he had a bead on each guard, he took three heartbeats to gauge the wind and let the arrow fly.
The first one hit home, as did the second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth, all inside of twenty-five seconds.
"Damn," Grayson said appreciatively, "the rumors were right about you. Nice work. Okay, let's go."
The group finally left the rooftop, with Sara using a small grappling hook to propel down the side of the building. Cassandra did the same, while Grayson used the hooks on his arm-guards and years of trained acrobatic maneuvering to nimbly climb down the wall. Once all three were in position by their entrances and had moved into the warehouse itself, Oliver shot a grappling arrow into the wall of the warehouse closest to him and zip-lined his way over to the area to the right of the front door.
East entrance it was, then.
As soon as he'd made his way inside the warehouse, Oliver spotted Grayson positioned on top of a crate, cloaked by the shadows. Electing to keep his feet on the ground, Oliver took cover behind a crate next to Grayson's and looked out around the corner to take stock of the situation.
China White was in the middle of a heated discussion with one of the Falcone representatives, and from the looks of things the Falconi had tried to pull one over on the Triad. As Oliver focused and paid more attention to what was being spoken, however, he felt his gut twist in his chest.
"I thought you said this sale had been made common knowledge among our associates," China White said to the Falcone spokesman. "Part of my asking price included taking another shot at the Arrow, and I assume that's the only reason Mister Drakon is here, as well. So where is he? He should've been here by now."
"I'm sure he'll show up, not to worry," the Falcone spokesman assured the head of the Triad. "I have more than a little experience with vigilante types. He wouldn't miss this."
"You're right," Shiva said, breaking her silence at last. The assassin was sitting on a plain folding steel chair, casually scanning her surroundings with a calm look and seeming profoundly disinterested with the whole affair. "The Arrow wouldn't miss this. He's already here, in fact."
"He is?" Drakon asked intently, his fists clenching at his sides. "Where?"
"Are you really that eager to be beaten, Constantine?" Shiva asked, the barest trace of a smile on her face. "You wouldn't stand a chance against him."
"I almost beat him once," Drakon said, staring daggers at Shiva. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do."
"If the Arrow really is here," China White said, stepping between Drakon and Shiva, "then I'll make you a deal," she continued, turning to face the Falcone spokesman. "If your associate here kills the Arrow, I'll consider that part of our transaction fulfilled."
The Falcone spokesman was silent for a few tense moments, before finally nodding.
"Very well," he said.
China White smiled and took a few steps back, clearing out of Drakon's immediate vicinity as her troops followed suit. Drakon himself began doing a few quick warm-up kata, much to Shiva's apparent amusement.
"All the preparation in the world won't save you," she taunted Drakon. "You're lucky the Arrow no longer kills his enemies."
Drakon smiled at Shiva acidly, but didn't rise to her provocation beyond that. Instead, he turned his attention to the warehouse at large and called out.
"Get out here, you coward!" he shouted. "If you keep hiding in those shadows, I'll have the guys with guns here shoot them until your corpse rolls out of one!"
Shiva let the ensuing silence hang just long enough for it to become awkward before she broke it, smiling more widely this time.
"That isn't going to work," she said. "He isn't a coward, and won't fall for goading that obvious. The two people who wore his hood before him trained him better than that."
Shiva's words slammed into Oliver like hammer-blows, and it was all he could do to keep from reeling backwards. She knew who had trained him? How? And if she knew that much about his time on Lian Yu…
Oliver knew he was being goaded in a much more effective way, but that didn't matter. He couldn't afford not to learn what Shiva knew about him. Taking a calming breath, Oliver sheathed his bow against his back and walked out into the light of the warehouse.
"See?" Shiva said to Drakon, even as the mercenary walked forward to square off against Oliver. "All you have to do to force the hand of a man with secrets, is make it known that his secrets are not secret to you."
"The people who wore this before me," Oliver said to Shiva, seemingly ignoring Drakon completely, "you knew them?"
"I did," Shiva said simply, and Oliver nodded with cold intent.
"When this is over," he said, "we're going to talk."
Shiva smiled again, and this time there was a trace of warmth in it.
"Why do think I came all the way here, child?"
In that moment, Oliver was struck for the second time that night with how much someone resembled Shado. Shaking off the memories before they could disrupt his focus, Oliver turned to face Drakon. The two combatants began to circle each other without a word, and Sara, Cassandra and Grayson took the diversion as an opportunity to move to more advantageous positions.
"Vincenzo," one of the Falcone men said to the spokesman as the two martial artists exchanged their first blows. "Una parola."
"Dimmi," the spokesman replied, keeping an eye on the fight.
"Quella donna la," the other man said, "perché non uccidiamola noi, e prendiamo noi cosí la taglia?"
Vincenzo considered the proposition for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Anche loro hanno delle taglie," he said, gesturing to Oliver and Drakon, who were continuing to battle it out. "Ha piú senso di uccidere tutti questi stronzi, ci stai? Troveremo qualcun'altro a cui potremo vendere l'arme."
The other man smiled cruelly.
"Certo."
The man gave a signal to one of the other Falcone soldiers and said a few more words of Italian, and the order was circulated through the rest of the men. They watched the fight unfold before them for a few more tense moments, Oliver maintaining the upper hand over Drakon, before a signal was given. As the Falcone soldiers all raised their guns, fingers on the trigger, Grayson stepped quickly out of the shadows. He'd overheard the mobsters speaking earlier, and his adoptive father had taught him more than enough Italian to understand the conversation.
"Oliver," he shouted, "get to cover! Now!"
Oliver didn't pause for thought, hearing the words and reacting on pure instinct. Quickly backing away from Drakon, he bolted for cover, grabbing Shiva by the arm along the way and dragging her with him. Damian saw the guns go up and followed suit, and the three of them were behind a reinforced crate when the bullets began to fly and tore Drakon to shreds. Members of the Triad were caught in the withering hail of bullets as well, and China White took a few rounds to the chest before falling to the ground.
From behind the crate, Shiva looked over at Oliver and smiled.
"I see you brought Richard with you," she said. "Good. That will make this easier."
"Just tell me one thing," Oliver said. "Are you here for Sara?"
Shiva shook her head.
"If I was, she'd already be dead. I'm here for you, Oliver."
"Good."
Meanwhile, a full-on gun battle had erupted between the various mafia factions in the middle of the warehouse. The screams of the dying were barely audible over the sound of all the gunfire, but what Oliver could hear made him sick to his stomach.
"So, what?" Damian asked, impatient. "We just gonna wait for them to all kill each other?"
"No," Oliver said firmly, his eyes dark with conviction. "We're going to stop this ourselves. Non-lethally," he added pointedly, staring down the two assassins.
"Good luck disarming all those shooters without killing them and avoiding getting murdered in the process," Shiva said, wryly amused. "I don't think even you can pull that off."
"I can't," Oliver agreed, giving Shiva a small smile of his own. "But I know someone who can. Flash," he continued, speaking into his communicator, "we could use a little help in here! Lots of guns!"
"On it," came the reply, and then several things happened very quickly indeed.
A dark, golden-tinged blur blitzed into the warehouse, moving so quickly that the sound of a sonic boom cracked through the air behind it. It moved among the mobsters from each faction and snatched away their guns before any of them even knew what was going on, leaving almost as soon as it had arrived. Looking down at their hands, the gangsters were shocked and mildly terrified to find themselves all without their weapons.
"Okay, kids," Barry's voice said into everyone's communicators, "have fun!"
"You heard the man," Oliver said to his friends, unable to keep himself from grinning. "Let's clean this mess up."
"So, the whispers are true, after all," Shiva said, her voice tinged with awe. "Incredible."
"We can talk about that later," Damian said, tensing his muscles and slipping into a fighting stance. "Ass-kicking comes first."
The three of them broke cover, wordlessly picking the three closest targets and taking them down with almost no effort.
"Damn amateurs," Damian said disparagingly, glaring down at the unconscious body of his opponent. "Take their guns away and they're so boring."
He looked over and saw Cassandra handling a crowd of four fighters with ease, his face creasing into a frown as he hurried over to join her.
"Hey, Cassie," he said, channeling his anger into a vicious right hook that knocked a Falcone thug out cold. "Long time."
She gave Damian a short glance out of the corner of her eye as she spun into a roundhouse that took out a Triad knife-fighter.
Are we really doing this now?
Damian knew her well enough to read the glance like an open book, and his frown deepened.
"I don't see you for three years, and this is what I get?" he asked, pounding his way through three more soldiers without ever taking his eyes off Cassandra. "Really? That's low, Cassie. Even for you."
A particularly vicious punch broke the arm of a Triad in at least three places, and the look in Cassandra's eyes said the rest.
Don't try to pin this on me, you bastard.
"I'm not," Damian growled, delivering a sharp high-knee to the chin of a very unlucky Falcone thug. "I'm just saying, you could have at least let me know you were still alive!"
A restrained punch, a pointedly non-lethal throw. A series of quick, pointed knock-out karate chops to four different necks.
You have your place. I have mine. Why do you think my mother never told you I was alive?
"Because she didn't know," Damian said, before slamming his elbow into the exposed throat of a Triad soldier.
Cassandra took down two more opponents before taking a heartbeat's pause to look over at Damian, her eyes more pitying than angry.
She knew, Damian. You know she did.
"Cassandra—" he began, his voice strained, before a Falcone thug's hand on his shoulder made him snarl.
"Fuck off, asshole," Damian growled, smashing his fist into the man's face and smiling as he groaned and crumpled in pain. When Damian turned back around, however, Cassandra was nowhere to be seen.
"Shit!" he cursed, quickly scanning the warehouse for any sign of her. All he saw was a chaotic melee, members of Oliver's team ruthlessly and systematically tearing their opposition apart. Cassandra was nowhere to be found, and so Damian rushed headlong into the fray and hoped for the best.
"Nice to see you're still sharp, Lance," Grayson said with a smile as he and Sara tore their way through the throng of would-be opponents. "I don't have anything to worry about, do I?"
"The only trouble we might have is if you decide to make some, Dick," Sara replied, putting just enough emphasis on his name to make Grayson laugh.
"Classy," he said as his escrima sticks blazed a flurrying path through a cluster of thugs. "Never heard that one before. Except from my girlfriend, y'know, at least once a day."
"You have a girlfriend?" Sara asked as she kicked a Triad soldier in the face, sounding surprised. "Are you going to take her ice-skating in Hell for your honeymoon?"
Grayson laughed as he ducked out of the way of a punch and delivered a crushing haymaker to a hapless Falcone soldier.
"She's a riot, this one," he said. "We've been dating for a while. It's not a new thing."
"I've been off the grid for a bit," Sara replied. "We didn't get the Gotham News in Nanda Parbat."
"I'll have to introduce you sometime," Grayson said as they finished off the last thug with a combined double-punch to her gut. "I think you and Babs would get along."
"Let's get through this first," Sara said, quickly looking around the warehouse for more targets.
But there were none to be found—Oliver and Shiva were making absolute fools of the last three fighters standing, and then an eerie silence fell over the warehouse. A few moments later, the warriors had gathered in the center of the building, a tight ring standing triumphant over their defeated enemies.
"So," Oliver said at last, looking at Shiva, "I think you owe me a story."
Shiva smiled, nodding.
"I do," she said, her dark eyes drifting slightly out of focus as she began.
"It was several years ago," she said, "when I was still a member of the League's rank and file. I got sent on a recon mission to China, in order to scout a potential recruit. A Senior Colonel, on his way to becoming a Major General. Rumored to be quite skilled with knives and a blade, but his preferred weapon was a bow."
Shiva paused, her lips twitching into the ghost of a sad smile as Oliver began to put the pieces together in his head.
"When we first met, we wound up fighting in an uninterrupted duel for a solid hour," Shiva continued, her smile gone. "I guess he thought I was an enemy of his, from the look of my uniform. By the time I was able to convince him otherwise, both of us were so beaten we could barely move. I explained to him who I worked for, and what my offer was.
"He told me to go to Hell," Shiva said, chuckling at the memory.
"And you let him live?" Grayson broke in, incredulous.
"I was in no shape to kill him," Shiva explained, "and he had fought with skill and honor. We went our separate ways, but I remained in China. It wasn't long before my acquaintance began to attract jealous rivals in the army's ranks, however, and our paths crossed again. After I'd helped him fight off the eighth attempt on his life, the newly-promoted Major General finally began to trust me… just not enough to accept my offer. I had been told not to return without success, however, so I stayed where I was.
"It became something of a game, between us," Shiva continued, smiling sadly again. "When we had no assassins to fight off, we fought each other. In time, we grew close. Eventually… too close," Shiva said, her voice heavy with regret for a moment. "After that, I left and returned to Nanda Parbat. I knew I couldn't stay in China any longer, or I might have been given a reason not to leave.
"Ra's was disappointed, but he understood. Three months later, I realized my mistake had followed me back to Nanda Parbat all the same.
"Six months after that," Shiva said, "my mistake came screaming into the world. Healthy and strong, like her father. But I knew the League was no place for my child, so I arranged for her to be sent back to join her father. I did not want the teachings of Ra's al-Ghul to touch my daughter—either of my daughters," Shiva added, looking pointedly at Cassandra, "so I knew it was not my destiny to raise her. But before I gave her up for good, I gave her a name."
"Shado," Oliver said, his voice muted with shock at the revelation, so obvious now as he looked at Shiva's face again in the light. "You're Shado's mother. And the man was Yao Fei."
"Yes," Shiva answered, nodding, "he was. When I found out he'd been sent to Lian Yu, it took every ounce of my strength not to go to that godforsaken island and drag him off of it. When I learned that Shado had been taken, as well…" Shiva frowned. "It took Ra's al-Ghul himself to stop me.
"Of course," she finished with a sigh, sounding drained, "you know the rest of the story, Oliver. And now we come to the reason why I wanted to talk to you, at last.
"You put an arrow into the chest of the scum who killed Yao Fei," Shiva said gravely, her dark eyes holding Oliver's gaze unflinchingly, "and you put three bullets into the heart of the rotten bastard who murdered my daughter. As far as I'm concerned, I owe you more than a mother could ever repay. Keep that in mind, Oliver."
Oliver nodded solemnly, his eyes intent under his hood.
"I will."
Shiva nodded, and silence fell over the group again.
Grayson was the first to move, nodding wordlessly to Shiva and walking towards the door on the far end of the warehouse. Sara fell in step behind him, quickly catching up to walk on his left side. Oliver shared one last meaningful look with Shiva before leaving as well, walking next to Sara.
"C'mon, Cass," Grayson called back, as Cassandra lingered by Damian and her mother. "Let's go."
Cassandra looked at her mother, torn with indecision. Shiva smiled, sad to lose her daughter a second time but also knowing full well that Nanda Parbat was no longer her home.
"Go," she said.
Cassandra smiled weakly, giving a low nod of respect to Shiva.
She had taken three steps before a hand reached out to lightly clasp her own, its grip simultaneously tender and fiercely desperate.
"Please," Damian said, clearly fighting to keep his emotions from spilling over. "Don't. You don't have to leave."
Cassandra turned back and gave Damian a sad smile.
Yes, I do.
She closed the three steps quickly and put a gentle hand against his cheek before leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him.
It wasn't long before Cassandra broke away again, feeling her resolve begin to weaken. Damian opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it in the end and sighed.
After all, the kiss had told him everything he'd needed to know.
Cassandra turned and ran to catch up with her friends, leaving Shiva and Damian standing alone among the unconscious bodies.
"Don't worry too much," Shiva said, smiling. "I'm sure your paths will cross again."
"Maybe," Damian said, his voice bordering on wistful. "I hope so, at least."
Shiva chuckled, turning her attention to the boss of the Starling City Triad, who was just now waking up with a groan and prying the rounds out of her bulletproof vest.
"Let's go clean up the trash," Shiva said, and Damian followed behind his commander as they walked over to confront China White.
Outside the warehouse, in the building across the street, Oliver and his team were busying themselves catching their breath and dismantling all the guns Barry had confiscated.
"You gonna be okay?" Sara asked Cassandra, putting a concerned hand on her friend's shoulder. Cassandra looked over at her and nodded, but there was something in her eyes that didn't make the gesture terribly convincing. Sara smiled as encouragingly as she could, before turning back to the job at hand.
"That was some damn fine work you did tonight, Oliver," Grayson said as he finished prying apart yet another pistol, tossing it onto the to-be-recycled scrap heap. "I'm impressed. If you're ever up in Gotham, let me know."
"And if you ever wind up in Starling again, call me first," Oliver said with a smile. "I'll show you around."
"Deal," Grayson said, and the two of them shook hands.
The group finished their work in a companionable silence, and were ready to part ways for good when Grayson's phone rang. He fished it out of a protected pocket on the arm of his uniform and tapped a button, raising it to his ear.
"Yeah? Oh, hey Steph. What's… wait, slow down. Breathe. What happened?" There was a long pause, during which Grayson's expression became more and more shocked.
"You and Jason did what?" he asked at last, sounding horrified. "What kind of thing would ever make you think that totaling a Maserati by driving it into a brick wall was a good idea? No, I don't really care if you were pinning Black Mask into that brick wall. You could've died!"
Grayson sighed, pinching his eyebrows as he noticeably fought to stay calm.
"Look, all I'm saying is that, next time, maybe you should think about driving a car that has armor on it. Less risk of dying horribly that way, and all. Look, I never said catching Black Mask wasn't a good thing," he continued, sounding outright exasperated now. "I just meant it wasn't something worth dying over. I am proud of you, Steph. You know that. Okay. Cass and I will be back by morning. Get some sleep."
Grayson hung up the phone and slipped it back into his sleeve, looking knowingly over at Oliver.
"Kids, man," he said. "I'm getting too old for 'em."
Oliver laughed, and the group said their goodbyes one last time. Sara made Cassandra promise to stay in touch, and promised in turn to keep an eye out for Shiva and Damian in the future. Oliver thanked Barry for his help, and Barry just shook his head.
"Least I can do, my friend," he said. "Besides, I haven't had a workout that good in a while. I am a bit hungry, though," Barry finished, grimacing.
Oliver smiled.
"Plenty of food at my place," he said. "You're more than welcome to crash there. It's movie night."
"Sounds fun," Barry said. "I might have to take you up on that."
"I'm going to be there," Felicity's voice spoke in Barry's ear. "Take him up on it."
Barry laughed, and Oliver smiled. He didn't need to hear anything to guess what had just happened.
"Okay, guys," Oliver said, after Grayson and Cassandra had gone their separate way back to Gotham, more than ready for some downtime.
"Let's go home."
…
…
…
A/N: Goddamn, that thing was an absolute monster. Thanks to Raavainateacup on tumblr for the prompt. I know I wove in a ton of DC characters here, but I love them all too much to exclude them. Especially Shiva and Cassandra and Damian, they are the best.
Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!
And yes, one of these days I'm going to write an Olicity fic. It will happen. I'm just waiting to see where the chips fall after the Finale of Ultimate Destiny ™.
Also, I know I gave Cassandra her mother's last name here, but that's because David Cain is a miserable piece of shit and I don't think Cassandra would take his name if she could help it.
And the Italian in the story is basically just the Falcone guys saying that they should just kill Ollie, Shiva, Drakon and China White and collect the bounties on their heads, and find someone else to sell the guns to in Starling.