Aidan dropped low to the ground, virtually laying face down on the wooden surface, as a leg passed through the space he had just inhabited. He was forced to roll to the side a second later, however, as the same leg came slamming down, splintering the boards where his skull had been only moments before. Aidan could feel the whoosh of air against his skin from the close proximity, and kept rolling. The more distance he could put between himself and his attacker, the better.

Once he was sure he was out of danger, at least for the moment, Aidan pushed himself to his feet, backing away from his adversary as he quickly checked himself over. A few bruises, a possible hairline fractured rib and a split lip that was beginning to smart. The taste of iron was growing more prominent on his tongue, but he ignored it, focusing on his seemingly uninjured opponent. The black leather seemed invulnerable to anything he tried, the exposed skin only just beginning to shine with sweat. A small victory, but one nonetheless, given how they'd been at it for nearly half an hour. Normally, it took at least double that time for Aidan to get his opponent to this stage, but tonight, he was on more of an offensive. Or at least, he was trying to be. So far it hadn't exactly been going well for him.

Slipping his hands down to his pockets, fingers wrapping around the familiar moulded leather, he withdrew his batons, metal slicing through the air as he flourished them. One was raised above and behind his head, while the other hovered between the two of them, a shield prepared for whatever came next. After months of learning, failures and practise, Aidan could use the twin steel sticks like they were extensions of his own arms, a skill that had the potential to at least sway the fight slightly in his favour. At least, that was what he hoped.

His leather clad adversary said nothing, only reaching behind her back and snapping out a pair of collapsible escrima sticks. Twirling them slightly, she lunged forward a moment later, spinning through the air only to come crashing down on Aidan, who only just managed to stave off the attack. The two pushed against each other, a battle of strength and will that neither side would give up anytime soon.

"Come on," the woman spoke, blonde hair dangling across her face as she stared into Aidan's eyes with a calculating look, only slightly ruined by the smirk across her lips, "you can do better than that."

The two broke apart, and, as he prepared his next move, Aidan couldn't help but remember his first night up here. The night his vigilante life took its next steps up from amateur to professional, the night he learned what the Glades really needed from its saviour.

The night he met Sara Lance.

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The clocktower was seemingly abandoned. Aidan moved up through the levels, a small flashlight casting a steady beam over his surroundings. Once, there might have been something here, although he couldn't imagine what. Offices, perhaps, or maybe apartments. Not that it mattered now. This place had been abandoned for almost as long as he could remember, and it definitely showed. Dust was everywhere, a fine sheet that layered each and every surface. A few rotted cardboard boxes or bits of furniture remained in the few floors, but these were old, slowly but steadily falling apart as time caught up with them.

"This place is empty." He said under his breath. "Why am I even bothering with this?"

"Because," Sin's voice sounded exasperated in his ear as she explained the situation to him yet again, "I've been hearing things about this place. Apparently, someone's moved in, and we both know your curiosity won't rest until you know who."

"You know me so well." He muttered, irritated by the fact that she was right. It was a habit he'd developed growing up, wanting to know exactly what was going on in his neighbourhood, especially when it came to people. If someone had decided to take up residence here, he needed to know who. Unknowns like that bugged him to no end.

Moving up the last flight of stairs, Aidan came to a stop in the clocktower itself. The massive faces, switched around from his perspective, dominated the four walls, although the machinery that had once powered them was long gone. Metal frames surrounded the central floor space, with plastic sheets blowing slightly in the light breeze coming from several of the glassless window frames. He cast his eyes around carefully. It did seem in better shape than the rest of the building, but that didn't necessarily indicate new ownership. In fact, aside from the absence of dust, there was no sign that anyone else had been up here in years.

"I think your sources were wrong." Aidan sighed, lowering his flashlight. "There's no one her…"

A squeak of floorboards behind him, and Aidan turned just in time to see the boot that connected with his face. He was thrown to the side, spinning slightly before crashing to the ground, not before his back connected with part of the metal framework. A groan of pain forced its way out from his throat.

"Aidan?" Sin called, concern clear in her tone. "Aidan, what's happening?"

"I take it back." He grunted, staring up at the figure in front of him. "I'm never doubting your intel again."

A woman stood before him, clad in black leather. A jacket and bustier corset covered her top, while her legs were wrapped in pants reminiscent of fishnets. He had already been introduced to her heavy boots, while a mask rested over her eyes, surrounded by long, platinum blonde hair.

"Who are you?" He asked, pulling himself to his feet. The woman's only response was to slowly bend her legs, adopting a fighting stance, one that made him back away slightly, hands raised in a pacifying gesture. "I'm not looking for a fight."

"Too bad." The woman responded, the hint of a smirk in her voice. "You got one." And she lunged forward.

Aidan had never been so grateful for his hectic upbringing as he span away, flashing the torch in her eyes as she passed within an inch of him. Taking advantage of her momentarily dazed state, he quickly aimed a well-placed kick to the back of her knee, before casting his eyes around for something to use as a weapon. Two metal poles, each roughly the length of his forearm, caught his attention, and he grabbed them, quickly getting used to their weight as he turned to face his adversary.

The fight, if it could even be called that, lasted for a minute at best, and even from the start Aidan knew he was screwed. Sure, in his few weeks as a vigilante he'd come up against dozens of thugs, some twice the size of him and wrapped in more muscle than a sea food joint. But this woman was unlike any of them. Her moves were quick, precise and utterly without mercy. Indeed, if his reflexes hadn't been honed from two decades of living in the Glades, he had no doubt that the fight would have ended before it had even begun. It took everything he had to block or dodge her attacks, the growing wooziness from her first hit not exactly helping. And, although he managed to get one or two glancing blows in, it was nothing compared to the veritable shower of hits his body was taking.

At last, however, he could go on no longer. His entire being throbbed with pain, his vision was falling apart with every second, and he couldn't find anymore pools of energy to draw upon, his legs barely able to support himself as it was. The metal bars were knocked from his hands, and he quickly found himself in a headlock that, he knew both from experience and the pressure on his spine, was only one sharp tug away from breaking his neck. He closed his eyes, or at least the one that hadn't already swollen shut, and waited for the inevitable.

"I'm sorry Charley." He thought, mind slowly growing blank. "I'm so sorry."

A few seconds passed. Then another few. And death didn't come.

"Not bad." The voice sounded in his ear. "Not bad at all."

The grasp around his throat loosened, and Aidan fell to his hands and knees, sucking oxygen into his screaming lungs. The sound of footsteps pulled his attention up, and he saw the woman in black standing in front of him, looking down with an appreciative look on her partially covered face, one hand held out towards him. He grabbed it, letting her pull him up with a surprising level of strength. It was only as he straightened up that he noticed the height difference between the two of them, her platinum blonde locks only coming up to the top of his chest.

"You've got skill." She told him, taking a few steps back. Aidan noted the lack of sound she made, even with the old floorboards and her thickset boots. "To hold out that long against me, untrained… not many can say the same."

"Thanks, I guess." He managed to get out, chest still heaving in air as one hand lightly massaged his throat. "Although I've got to wonder why I'm not more dead."

"Because I was only asked to test you." The woman explained. "And I think our friend might be a bit annoyed with me if I snapped your neck."

"Our frie…" Aidan began, before realisation struck him and he pressed a finger to his ear.

"Cindy," he said slowly, "why did you set a ninja on me?"

"She thought you could use some help." The woman explained after several moments of Sin's nervous stammering. "You have the drive, but it needs channelling. And, if you plan to keep doing what you're doing, you need to be at your best. Which is where I come in." Aidan nodded slowly at the explanation. And, in truth, he knew he wasn't in any position to turn down any offered help. He had just had his ass handed to him, and now the victor was offering to teach him how to do the same to others, those who deserved it a hell of a lot more. He'd be a moron to turn it away.

"Alright." He finally agreed. "When do we start?"

"Let's see…" the woman answered, tapping a finger to her chin, "…Now!" And Aidan knew the break was over, as he was quickly dragged back into a world of pain and lightning fast blows.

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That had been just over three months ago, and he was already showing signs of improvement. His strength, speed, stamina, pain tolerance, it had all shot up thanks to the nightly training sessions. Sara was a terrifying opponent, but an incredible teacher who had seemed to make it her mission to either make him the best he could be, or kill him trying. An alternative that Aidan was very decidedly against.

The training had shown its results in his works almost immediately. Thugs that would've taken him several minutes to take down before were now dealt with in less than one, in such a way that they wouldn't be getting back up for quite a while. Crime had already begun to drop, as more and more criminals learnt the hard way what happened when they tried to work on his turf. And his collection of scars, already impressive before his nightlife began, had finally stopped growing at such a rapid pace. It certainly helped the number of times he could go out on patrol, not having to miss a night or two every week to recover from the growing strain placed on him every time he donned the mask.

Another consequence of these non-lethal punch ups disguised as 'lessons' was the new friendship he was able to cultivate. It had taken Aidan roughly three weeks to learn her real name, after her initial introduction of Taer al-Sahfer (or Yellow Bird, a name that never failed to bring a smile to his face once he'd learnt the meaning). The discovery that it was Sara Lance, a woman presumed lost at sea for the past six years, who was routinely pummelling and teaching him only helped to bring the two together. Even though the time had been short, Aidan already saw her as a part of his strange little family, the older sister he had never had.

That didn't stop him from trying to kick her ass, however.

Their fight went on for another few minutes, the sound of metal clanging and flesh being painfully smacked filling the clocktower. Eventually, however, the match ended in a draw, a situation that was steadily becoming more common as time went on. Aidan had his knife pressed to Sara's stomach, while the woman herself had the young man in yet another headlock. The pair broke apart after a few seconds, both running their hands over the more delicate parts of their injured anatomy.

"Not bad." Sara commented, rubbing her bruised shoulder. "You're getting better. Very slowly," she added, seeing the smirk on her friend's face, "but still good."

"Ah, just you wait." Aidan declared, taking a swig from a water bottle. "I'll beat you one day."

"Never gonna happen." Sara confidently shot the prediction down, before moving back into the makeshift ring. "Again?"

"You're on." The two readied themselves, waiting for the first move. They were interrupted, however, by the chime of a text from Aidan's phone. Laying down his weapons, he picked the device up, scanning the short message.

'One truck. Normal Route. Five Minutes.'

"Sorry to cut this short." Aidan sighed, pocketing both his phone and the two sticks, reaching for the balaclava resting nearby. "Duty calls."

"Aidan." Sara called out, just before he left the room. As he turned to look at her, she smirked. "Whoever it is doing this," she instructed, "kick their ass for me."

He raised his hand in a salute, before continuing towards his motorcycle, mind already ready for what awaited him.

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In the aftermath of the Undertaking, there had been thousands of people left injured, either from the buildings as they came toppling down or from others, both accidental and intentional. And, even once the earthquake had ended, the injuries kept on coming, this time courtesy of the criminals who saw the half-destroyed district as a lawless Promised Land. As such, Glades Memorial Hospital had seen a massive surge in patients, to the extent that it was nearly overwhelmed. And, thanks to the poverty that plagued the Glades, they didn't have the supplies or funding necessary to treat everyone that came through their doors, with many left at risk.

In response to this, FEMA had pledged to bring as much emergency relief as they could to the hospital, sending trucks laden with hope every few days. But recently, some of these had failed to reach their destination. Word on the streets was that an unknown gang was attacking these shipments, killing the drivers and taking their cargo, never to be seen again. Nobody knew who this lot were, but the number of lost trucks was growing in number. If the assault kept up, the hospital wouldn't be able to keep going, having already been pushed to the breaking point. It would only take a few more missing shipments before they lost control completely, and Aidan was sure as hell not going to let that happen on his watch.

The motorbike thrummed beneath him as he watched the road, waiting for the truck to reach him. This road was the shortest to the hospital, an almost straight line to where the medical supplies needed to go. Aidan's fingers tightened around the motorcycle's handlebars as he caught the first rumbles of a deep engine, slowly making its way towards him. Peering down the street, he could see the distant flash of the truck's headlights, and prepared himself to go. As soon as it reached him, he would begin to follow it, keeping a distance but ready in case of any attack. Although, something in his gut told him that something was already up, a suspicion that wasn't helped by the faintest flicker of lights alongside the far-off shape of the truck.

His focus on the truck was broken, however, by the roar of another engine, much closer to him and approaching fast. Twisting around, Aidan barely had time to lock eyes on the red car as it barrelled passed, racing towards the truck at breakneck speed. Cursing under his breath, he sent his bike rocketing forward, loose gravel churning up behind as he turned to follow the newest player on the scene. His plan had vanished entirely from his mind, the safety of the truck suppressed by the burning question of just who it was that had appeared. After several seconds, with the truck growing more prominent in front of him, however, Aidan was forced to admit that maybe the car's appearance wasn't such a bad thing after all, as his suspicion was swiftly changed into a certainty.

Two motorbikes were moving alongside the truck, the bikers' faces hidden behind their tinted helmets. Aidan recognised them from the blurry footage he'd managed to recover after the last truck's disappearance. This was the gang stealing the supplies, or part of it at any rate. The man in the car seemed to recognise this fact too, as he drove straight at the biker on the left. Aidan let himself fall back a few metres as the car passed the truck, forcing the biker off the road. The man fell off his machine, rolling to a stop on the hard cement. Aidan pulled out one of his batons as he drew nearer, watching as the biker slowly began to rise off the ground. A passing whack to the back of the helmeted head, and the figure was down for the count, body spread out in the road. Aidan wasn't sure if the biker was alive or not, but gave a mental shrug at the thought. Most in the Glades were forced to resort to crime to get by, himself included in the past. But stealing medical supplies from a swamped hospital? His death would be no sweat off Aidan's back.

Aidan kept his eyes on the red car in front of him. The driver had swung the vehicle around, facing the direction of the truck once again, and was already racing forwards, with a speed and precision that showed their single minded goal. A rev from behind gave Aidan the information that the other biker had pulled away, heading back to face the new threats. He swerved to the side as the red car passed him, catching a glimpse of the face inside. Young, male, and somewhat familiar. They were gone in the space of a second, and Aidan pulled his bike to a halt as he watched the scene progress. The car and bike drawing closer together, neither looking to have any intention of surrendering in this battle of wills. The pair were seconds from colliding, when Aidan saw the biker reach down and pull out a short, black object, levelling it at the car. A submachine gun.

The spray of bullets sent up sparks from the car, cascading over the hood and almost certainly blinding the driver, if not killing him. This was proved true when the car swerved off the road, moving up a pile of scrap to the side and flipping through the air, crashing down with the wheels spinning over nothing. If the driver wasn't dead, then he was in for one hell of a headache.

Gunning the bike engine, Aidan raced towards the biker, who by this time had turned his own machine and was racing after the truck. As he reached the upturned car, however, his eyes caught on the slowly moving shadow behind the tinted window. It was sluggish, the driver more than likely having hit his head in the crash. Weighing up the options, Aidan pulled the bike to a screeching stop, jumping towards the car door while keeping an eye on the rapidly shrinking biker.

The door refused to open, frame having become mangled and locked. With a grunt of irritation, Aidan pulled out a baton, the metal pole perfect for his current needs. Locating the door's hinges, or where they were meant to be beneath the steel frame, he smashed the baton against them, using all of his strength to slowly knock the joint out of place. After several hits, his work paid off when the metal door visibly loosened, free from it confines. Pushing his fingers against the twisted frame, he tightened his muscles as the door steadily shifted open, groaning as he heaved. Eventually, he tossed the gnarled metal away, leaving the car's interior open to him.

Returning the baton to its home, he reached in, getting a grip on the unconscious form's red hoodie before dragging him out, briefly mocking the lack of a seatbelt. If one had been there, maybe he wouldn't have had to waste time. There were a number of scraps across his face, along with a slowly purpling bruise on the forehead, and Aidan's own face twisted in anger as familiarity flooded to him. Of course it was Harper, who else would it be. As Aidan dragged the man out fully, propping him against the upturned car, the man's eyes began to flutter as consciousness returned to him. Taking advantage of this dazed state, Aidan forced Harper's chin around, so that the two were looking eye to eye.

"Don't let me catch you out here again." He growled, voice dropping several octaves, before he let the head drop against the dizzy man's chest and quickly returned to his bike, racing in the direction the biker and truck had gone. He had lost precious time in dealing with the wannabe hero, time he desperately needed to make up for.

After a few minutes, Aidan reached a crossroad, and pulled his bike to a stop in front of what lay in the road. As he took in the sight, his fists tightened in their gloves, and he felt an overwhelming urge to punch something.

Two dead bodies, dressed in FEMA uniforms. Faded tire tracks, of both the truck and bike. And no truck with medical supplies in sight. He had failed. Again.

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"Who is he, Roy?"

Not for the first time, Roy found himself in the familiar setting of a police interrogation room. His hands were cuffed to the metal table, he could see one camera out the corner of his eye and, if he turned around, there would be the two-way mirror that hid whoever else was watching. Although, for once in this setting, he was telling the truth.

"I already told you, I don't know." He answered with complete sincerity. The vigilante had saved his life, and he'd give anything to know who he could thank. Although, even if he did know, there was no way he'd be telling the cops. Laurel, on the other hand, didn't seem to accept it.

"So you just happen to have one of his arrows." She said, holding up the red flechette that hadn't left his person since the night it had saved his life.

"I hear he likes green ones." His sarcasm as he attempted to keep his irritation in check only served to further stoke Laurel's growing anger.

"Do you think this is funny?" She snapped. "Because I can charge you with obstruction right now!" She paused, looking to visibly calm down as she took a seat across from him.

"Look," she began again, "I used to feel the same way as you. He has this way of… seducing you." Her eyes grew hazy as she spoke, old memories resurfacing. "Making you feel like he's some kind of guardian angel." And, as soon as the almost wistful look had appeared, it was replaced by a cold look that almost made him shiver. "But he's not. He causes chaos and death. And you trying to emulate him just makes the situation worse."

"Half the city fell into a hole." Roy was nearing the end of his tether by this point. "I'd say the situation's already worse." It wasn't the vigilante's fault what happened. He couldn't have done any more than what he did. Roy knew it, most of the Glades knew it. So why couldn't Laurel, who had clearly believed in the Hood before? He let out a breath, trying to calm down again. "Look, some of us are just trying to make things better."

"Who, like you and the Hood?" Seriously, this woman would not give this up!

"Look, there-" Roy paused, letting out a breath and marshalling his thoughts. "There are others. Others out there who are willing to do what's right. I've seen them." A flash of blond and black leather crossed his eyes. Along with a more recent image, of a skull mask and dangerous eyes.

"I'm not interested in anyone else." Laurel's voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned his focus back onto her. "Just him." And Roy couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the vigilante, face to face with the force of nature that seemed ready to hunt him down and string him up.

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Oliver waited in the corridor, watching as Thea's face flitted between looks of concern, acceptance, and downright murderous rage. He had no idea what Roy had done to earn such a reaction, but he was just glad that, for once, he wasn't on the receiving end of it.

Roy… The thought of Thea's ex-criminal boyfriend sent a surge of uncertainty through him. Ever since he had saved him, Oliver knew that Roy had been changed by that night. He was looking for the vigilante, trying to do his work and getting into even more trouble doing so. He'd seen the police and hospital records of Roy during his five month 'sabbatical', and what he had found filled him with unease. The kid, by all rights, should be dead. He probably would be if not for the skull faced vigilante. Oliver knew that Roy would need to be sorted out before he became any more of a loose cannon. The only problem was deciding on what to do with him. Should he take the young man under his wing? Or ensure that he gave up his vigilante tendencies, by any means necessary?

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening, and he stood as both Roy and Laurel came through. The young man's face was badly scraped, and he looked to be barely containing his anger.

"What happened?" Thea asked, moving towards her boyfriend. "Are you hurt?"

"Fender bender." Roy grunted, although it clearly wasn't the case.

"He totalled his car playing Hood junior." Laurel corrected, and Oliver felt a pang in his chest at the venom in his friend's voice at the mention of his alter-ego.

"At least it wasn't my car." Roy shrugged uncaringly, and Oliver had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Did this kid even care about what might happen to him?

"Don't say anything!" Thea snapped, her patience already worn thin. "I already called you an attorney."

"That won't be necessary, we're not pressing charges." That surprised Oliver, since Laurel's recent attitude to vigilantes seemed to suggest the opposite. "So long as he gives up looking for trouble." Thea huffed.

"Might as well tell him to give up breathing." She bit out, before falling into a quiet, very angry conversation with her boyfriend. Oliver took the opportunity to move closer to Laurel.

"I'll talk to him." He promised, already plotting out a very pointed conversation. Whichever version of him it took to get the message through, that point might be metaphorical or painfully literal.

"Ask him if he knows anything about the Vigilante." Laurel requested, eyes never leaving Roy. "Roy has obviously forged some sort of connection to him. Maybe it goes both ways."

It really doesn't. Oliver thought. Out loud, he said, "Doesn't sound like the Vigilante to have a groupie."

"That's just it- we don't know anything about the Vigilante." Laurel's voice was filled with frustration, along with a determination that sent a chill down Oliver's back. "Except for every time that he shows up, all hell breaks loose. It has to stop, Ollie." Laurel turned to him, and Oliver caught the look in her eyes. It was the same look that he must had carried ever since that terrible night. Coupled with a burning fury that could have melted steel on its own.

"He has to be stopped."

And with that, Laurel turned to leave, and Oliver began to move towards the still-arguing couple, feeling as though another piece of his heart had just been torn from his chest.

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The sound of metal clattering to the ground filled Oliver's ears as he lowered his bow, eyes locked on the man in front of him. Stood between the two trucks, he seemed to fill the space completely, muscular physique coupling with the clawed weapons he held to demonstrate the clear threat he represented. Behind the man, Oliver could only watch as China White clambered into one of the truck's cabins, stepping over the stabbed driver as she moved to steal even more medical supplies from the injured and dying. The urge to put an arrow in her back filled Oliver, but, with the briefest glance towards the sliced-up shafts littering the ground, he knew it would only be a waste.

After his 'chat' with Roy the night before, it hadn't taken Oliver long to come to the conclusion that something desperately needed to be done. Roy's account had made it seem like death was just hovering over the Glades, hospital or not, and what he had seen at Glades Memorial didn't exactly do much to refute that claim. Massive overcrowding, a pitifully low number of doctors and nurses, and injuries that made Oliver surprised their recipients weren't dead. There had been shrapnel wounds, partially and fully missing limbs, internal injuries that had people hooked up to more machines than he could fit arrows in his quiver. There was even a little girl who couldn't have been older than eight, her head and torso wrapped in bandages while a pump did her breathing for her.

And then, Alderman Blood had served to lay everything out for him in a neat little package, amidst the sound of his followers. The cops didn't care, patients were dying, and it was his family's fault. His mother had played a part in the destruction of the Glades, and that hatred had spilled over on to his shoulders. Oliver couldn't find it in him to blame anyone for feeling this way. If he had been in their shoes, if he had lost his home and family, he would be angry too. Besides, it wasn't like Oliver Queen, the returned billionaire, had done anything to help. But seeing their faces, hearing their insults, had served another purpose, besides showing their horrors and adding more shame to his family. It had lit a fire within him, one that screamed out for justice for the victims louder than anything had before, even the List. He couldn't punish the conspirators that had caused the quake any more than he already had, but that didn't mean he couldn't do something to ease the ongoing suffering. A plan had formed in his mind, one that needed both his night and day personas to work. His parents had dragged their names through the dirt, all for a scheme that sacrificed hundreds for a failed goal. Oliver had sworn to save his city the year before, but that couldn't happen when the city was pulling itself apart. Before he could continue his crusade, he had to rebuild what had been lost.

The only obstacle in his way was China White and her newest partner. An obstacle that the city could not afford to fall to.

"No kill shots?" The man called out, sounding almost disappointed by the fact. "I was promised a fight. I hope you haven't lost your nerve." Oliver ground his teeth at the jeer. This man was willing to let innocents die, just to satiate his desire for a good fight? Well, if he wanted a fight, then the Arrow wasn't going to deny him one.

"Find out." He growled, ready for whatever came next.

The clawed man charged, speeding up in the short gap separating them before jumping, one had raised ready to bring serrated death down upon him. Oliver barely raised his bow in time to deflect the hit, before he was quickly being forced back, body weaving from left to right as fist after bladed fist came flying at him. Whoever this guy was, he was good, attacks flowing like a waterfall and leaving no room for any kind of counter. As the pair fought, Oliver could see the truck that China had hijacked begin to move, engine working to pull the massive vehicle along and away from those who needed it.

What no one noticed, however, not the criminals nor the vigilante, was the small device stuck behind the trailer's licence plate, red light blinking steadily.

They were now away from the remaining truck, and, as he blocked yet another razor sharp swing, Oliver quickly cast his eye around for options. He couldn't find this man in the open at close range, he had too much of a melee advantage. He needed somewhere tight, somewhere penned in enough to nullify the man's powerful swings. A narrow alley running alongside the depot's pipework caught his attention, and he shifted his feet, leading his opponent into the thin space. As the pair entered the pathway, Oliver readied his bow and, as yet another clawed hand was raised, he struck, spinning the man and pressing him against the metal tubes. The claws were nullified, stuck between their owner and the hard surface, all that remained was to end the fight for good.

The sound of police sirens suddenly caught Oliver's attention, the break in the struggle allowing him to focus on his surroundings again, and he could see out the corner of his eye as multiple police vehicles drew near, filling the entrance to the depot. This was enough for his adversary, who used the lapse in concentration to push back, shoving Oliver away and trying to force one clawed weapon through the Arrow's face. The vigilante's bow whirled to block this, and the pair ended up inches apart, weapons locked together as each man pushed against the other, a break in the fight that, he knew from experience, would not last long. As he felt the pressure in his arms build, however, Oliver was growing less and less sure that, should something spark off their conflict again, he would be the one to walk away. This man was good, had the advantage over him in close quarters, and had clearly been preparing for this. It would take a miracle for the vigilante to win right now, something that Starling had been in short supply of recently.

"Starling City police!" One voice called out, and Oliver twisted his head to look. At least a dozen cops, all with guns that were trained directly on him. "You're surrounded. Put down your weapons or we will open fire." Oliver didn't hear this, however, his eyes latching on to the figure of Laurel, right in the middle of the men who wouldn't hesitate to shoot him. For a moment, the pair could only stare at each other, the connection forged the year before freezing the two. For a moment, it was like the Undertaking had never happened, like they were still allies, working together to try and make the city a safer, better place.

The connection was broken suddenly, as smoke seemed to explode from nowhere. The thick cloud blocked Oliver's sight of the police, although their shouts, pounding footsteps and, most audibly, gunshots still filled his ears. Grabbing the chance, he twisted his bow, forcing one clawed device through the pipes behind his head. The steam flew directly into his foe's eyes, distracting him enough for Oliver to escape, moving swiftly through the twisting paths as he looked for a way out. A moving figure atop the building to his left caught his eye, and he turned, hand reaching for a grappling arrow. He was stopped for a moment as pain flared in his leg, a bullet from one of the cops pursuing him passing through the outer layer of muscle. Before he could reach for a flashbang, more smoke exploded around him, although this time Oliver caught a glimpse of a small canister as it bounced off the ground, thrown from the building he was headed towards, before it released its screening cloud. He nocked the arrow and fired, judging where the ledge was through the smoke, and allowed the line to pull him up, away from the police left stumbling around, trying to find him.

As he pulled himself up onto the rooftop, he let out a small hiss of pain due to his newest wound, before turning around and looking down. The police had no idea where he had gone, guns at the ready as they spread out to search. And there was Laurel, looking around in the way a predator would look for their escaped prey. Oliver's eyes remained on her, a sadness growing inside his chest. His friend, the woman he had loved, hunting him like a dog.

"You know," a voice called out from behind him, "it really does amaze me how they never think to look up."

Oliver had spun around at the first word, bow raised with another razor-sharp arrow ready, although he lowered it as he caught sigh of who was speaking. The man in the skull mask, the one who had been holding the Glades together in his absence. And the man who had, quite possibly, just saved his life.

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The Hood was something of an urban legend to Starling. There was no refuting the fact that he existed, but everything else was shrouded in mystery. Until the Undertaking had been revealed, there had been little to no connection between his targets, only their wealth and status, and the body trail he left in his wake was impressive in and of itself. Those he didn't kill were often left gibbering messes, only serving to grow the vigilante's reputation as a symbol of fear and dark justice.

Aidan had, of course, heard pretty much every story or theory about the man, and had built up an image in his head. A merciless hunter, pursuing his prey until they could run no further, and then submitting them to every second of pain they had dealt out to others. He was the guardian that the city needed, one willing to dive right into the filth in order to keep it from flooding onto the streets. This view was part of what had inspired Aidan to don the mask in the first place, to stand up and fight where no one else would. And, as he let his eyes take in the bow wielding man, he was not disappointed.

"Who are you?" The Hood called out, words sounding deeper through his clear voice modifier. Aidan didn't answer for a minute, never moving as he finished taking in the hooded man.

"Whatever the Glades needs me to be." He finally answered, voice similarly distorted. Sin had insisted on getting him one, and he had to admit, she was right. A better disguise for his speech, and much easier on his throat than any of his methods.

"You got a name?" The Hood asked, moving closer towards him. Aidan noticed the slight limp of the hooded man and, glancing down, spotted the slight crimson stain leaking down the green leather pants. He pushed this fact away, however, at the thought of a name. He had never given himself one, and the public for the most part had no idea he existed. Flitting through ideas, his mind finally latched on to one.

"I'm partial to Damocles." He said simply, and could already feel it fit. The Sword of Damocles, a warning to those in power about what would happen should they fail. Yes, Damocles would fit him just fine.

"But I already know who you are." He continued. "The Hood, Starling City's shadowy protector." Although the hood obscured it for the most part, Aidan thought he could see the vigilante's face tighten at the words.

"That's not who I am anymore." He almost whispered, words coming out in a sombre tone. Aidan nodded.

"That I gathered." At the vigilante's return of focus, he elaborated. "You were clearly holding back in that fight. Nothing major, but it was there. IF you were still the old you, you could've put an arrow through him before he even had a chance to reach you."

"You were watching the whole time?" Aidan couldn't help but smile at the man's words.

"I've been here for twenty minutes." He explained. "The only reason I wasn't down there was because you beat me to it. Besides," he shrugged, "I don't like my chances against the Triad just yet."

"Then why even show up," the vigilante growled, "if you were just going to watch?"

"Partly because I suspected you might need my help," he shot back, temper flaring at the implied insult, "but mostly because of this." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small tablet, brining up a street map of the Glades with a small red dot moving along the roads. "I placed trackers on both trucks. With this, I can find out where the shipments have been taken and learn their next target." Sliding the tablet away, he turned his focus back to the vigilante. "But I need your help."

At the silence that met his words, Aidan continued. "I can find out what I need, no problem. But, after what I've seen tonight, there's no way I can do this on my own. So, I'm suggesting a partnership. I find out where they strike next, and you help me stop them. For good." The vigilante didn't speak, seeming to think things over for a second.

"Why should I trust you?" He eventually asked. "What's to say you won't just tip the Triad off that I'm coming?" Aidan fought to control himself at that, muscles tensing up painfully tight.

"This city is my home, as much as it is yours." He replied coldly. "The longer the Triad are allowed to run free like this, the more damage they do and the more lives they put at risk. I want them gone, the same as anyone else."

Silence fell over the rooftop again, seconds ticking by as neither party moved, waiting for the other to slip up first. Aidan could feel the vigilante's eyes practically dissecting him, but he stood tall, refusing to show any sign of weakness. And, at last, a green gloved hand was stretched out towards him. Instead of shaking straight away, Aidan reached into another pocket, digging out an old flip phone and pressing it into the man's hand.

"I'll see what I can find. Be ready." With those words, both men knew that the meeting was over. Aidan turned and headed towards the edge of the building, his motorcycle waiting in the alley below. As he reached the ledge, he turned back, looking to where the bow wielding vigilante was nocking another arrow.

"By the way." He called out, catching the man's attention. "It's good to have you back." And then he dropped, gripping a projecting pipe as he lowered himself towards the ground. He had an agreement to uphold.

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In the part of the Glades that was still standing, sitting on the bed in his slightly run-down house, Roy Harper stared down at the two items clutched in his hands. In one hand, a paycheck worth two weeks of his wages at Verdant. And in the other, the hōzen that Thea's brother had given her after his return to Starling last year. But, deeper down, the pair represented something else, a choice he would have to make over what happened next in his life. One would see the end of his work to protect the Glades. And the other, the end of his relationship.

For most, this would be a simple choice. Not so for Roy. It wasn't a matter of which one he liked more, or which he could do the most good with. On the one hand, Thea was the best thing to have happened to him in years. Where others had simply given up on him before, labelling him criminal or just not worth the effort, she had persisted. That stubbornness, that refusal to accept any answer that didn't suit her, had pulled him out of his old life and into a better one. Whereas a year ago he would still be snatching purses and jacking cars to get enough money to feed himself, now he had something approaching a stable life, with an honest job that had fashioned him into a better state than he had ever been in before. And, of course, he had Thea. Someone who loved him, who cared for him, who gave him a sense of belonging. It was a feeling that made him warm inside, and he had every intention of keeping that feeling for as long as he could.

But on the other hand, there was the Glades. A decrepit, crime-riddled city district, and one that many in the city would be happy to let crumble into dust completely, finishing the work that had been started by Malcolm Merlyn. But it was still his home. He had lived here since he was born, knew the streets and people like the back of his hand. It had supported him growing up, had taught him how to live and keep on going. And now, it was hurting. The Glades was falling apart, and no one seemed to care. It had driven him almost mad before he started, an ever-present cry inside of him demanding that he do something. There was also the Hood to consider, along with the newer vigilantes in town. If they were willing to do something, why should he be allowed to simply kick back and wait for things to blow over? The Hood, the woman in black, the man in the skull mask, all of them had fought to save so many lives, including his own, and he had the ability to do the same. Doing what they did, helping to pull the Glades back together, it was the least he could do to thank them. And even without them, it wasn't like any of this was personal. It was bigger than he was, bigger than anyone. Why should he stop?

Roy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force himself to reach a decision. This wasn't his brain against his heart, if it was he'd have been done hours ago. It was his heart against itself, two halves of his being that were almost ripping him apart. Thea's words slid to the forefront of his mind.

"Just because I can't change you doesn't mean I have to let you be in my life until you get yourself killed."

Forcing back the tears in his eyes that threatened to fall, Roy quickly crammed the two items into a drawer, slamming it shut before letting his head drop into his hands. She was right, as much as he hated it. She couldn't change him, nobody could. Who he was, deep down, was set in stone. Sighing, he stood up, desperate for any distraction to put his mind off the choice he would have to make.

He just hoped he was making the right choice.

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Hidden in the shadows of the alleyway, Aidan watched in silence as the body of the FEMA truck driver dropped to the hard concrete, surrounded by the four criminals that had brought the poor man to this end. His body, already tensed up in anticipation, began to hum with anger as the bleach blonde woman knelt down, using the dead man's jacket to wipe her knife down, the knife that had been shoved through the man only moments before. That man, and the organisation he had worked for, had only been trying to make life better for the victims of a horrific attack, and she had cut him down like he was nothing, an annoying pest between her and the drugs she sought. Well, after tonight, Aidan would make sure that she would never lay a single finger on them. No matter what, this would end.

But for now, he stayed where he was, waiting fore the plan to begin, and for his time to strike.

Finding out about this attack had not been easy. Following the truck taken at the depot, it had led Aidan to an old warehouse that the local Triad were apparently using as their base of operations for their newest 'venture'. Sneaking by the guards, he had watched as the truck was unloaded before being taken away, most likely to be stripped down for parts. The drugs themselves were sorted and repackaged, ready for their next destination. Aidan knew what would happen. The drugs would be sold to school kids, the Triad's usual target for this sort of thing. Some of it might possibly end up in the hospital, in too small an amount to make any major difference and at a cost several times higher than its worth. Just the thought made him sick.

It had taken several days of surveillance before he found anything out. Earlier that night, he had made his way inside and eavesdropped on a very interesting meeting. Another attack, not long from now, on another emergency run. Just hearing the chatter had set Aidan on edge. The hospital was rapidly growing worse and, if this attack was successful, he knew that it would be almost impossible for the doctors to even attempt to keep the place from shutting down. As soon as they had left, he had made his way out, rushing to his bike as he rapidly texted the relevant information to his newest ally. They didn't have long; the attack was minutes away. The Hood had called back, and the two vigilantes had managed to cobble together a plan of attack as they raced to the scene. It was rushed, but it should prove good enough. He could only hope that they would succeed in carrying it out.

The blonde, Aidan now knew her to be China White, a leading Triad member in Starling, spoke to her two men, the pair nodding in response. Aidan didn't know what she was saying, but he could guess the general idea: 'Do your job, kill anyone in your way.' He gently pulled his batons from their pockets, letting the metal swing lazily between his fingers as he waited. The two Triad members headed towards the truck, heading out of Aidan's field of vision, although the sound of the truck door opening was loud enough to reach his ears. He cast his eye around nervously, looking for a sign as one of the men's head became visible behind the windscreen. Where the hell was he?

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

The rev of an engine caught his ear, and Aidan watched as the newly-minted Arrow sped around the corner, bow already in hand. As he neared the truck he raised it, firing an arrow through the glass that erupted in a blinding flash. Turning to shield his eyes, Aidan smirked as he heard a very satisfying thud from the man in the truck, now laying prone outside it, visible under the belly of the vehicle. As the Arrow brought his bike to a stop, Aidan quickly shook his arms, ready to move.

China turned to her remaining man. "Go!" She ordered. Aidan's eyes followed the running man, a small amount of concern growing in his mind that he quickly shook away. The Arrow told him he'd deal with it, and the brief glimpse of the masked man in the alley opposite him helped to confirm this. Besides, it was his turn at last. Taking a breath, he stepped out into the road, slowly walking up behind the two remaining figures while their attention was on the Arrow, stalking towards them.

"I told you." China's voice was almost dripping with glee as she called out to the hooded man. "On time to die."

"Maybe." The Arrow called out, tossing his bow from one hand to the other.

"But he won't be alone." Aidan continued, now stood almost directly behind the unwitting pair. He swung his baton, the metal aimed for China's head. The woman, spotting him as she turned to identify the newest threat, was fast enough to dodge, raising her own weapon for a counter. The clawed man tried to slice him across the back as he was focused on the Triad member, but the Arrow was too fast, blocking the blades with his bow and slamming his fist into the man's jaw. The fight was on.

The next few minutes was something of a blur to Aidan as the four fought. He shifted between the two targets at least a dozen times, with batons, elbows and legs flying as he worked to take them down. The two were good, and he knew that, had the Arrow not been there, fighting alongside him, he most likely wouldn't have lasted even half as long as he did. Even with the second vigilante, there were already three bloody streaks across his body, although thankfully none were deep enough to force him back. His blood was pumping as he span at China, first baton then elbow slamming into her. With a hard foot to the woman's stomach, he sent her flying back, crashing into a K-rail. Allowing himself a moment of victory, he was forced to hurl himself to the side as the truck sped past, bright headlights dazzling him for a second as he carefully rose off the ground. The effort was futile, however, as he was knocked back down almost instantly, jaw throbbing. China had recovered, decking him before running after the truck. As she grabbed a hold of the back, Aidan quickly pulled himself up before running for his bike. The truck was too far away for him to try the same thing, and, while the Arrow seemed to be on top of things with the clawed man, he couldn't say the same for whoever it was driving right now.

Racing after the truck, Aidan could only watch the scuffle taking place in the distance. China had pulled herself along the side of the vehicle, and was now stood by the driver's window, arm thrust through the opening as she fought with the man inside. The fight, however, was having an unintended consequence, distracting both combatants from what direction they were headed. The truck was steadily drifting to the side and, as Aidan watched, ran into some debris, the impact bringing the vehicle to a jarring halt. White hair flew as China was hurled forward, but she wasn't the most immediate concern.

Aidan didn't wait for his bike to screech to a halt as he reached the scene, jumping off and darting for the truck, bike falling to the ground behind him. As he neared, the door was pushed open, the dark-skinned driver pulling himself back out to ground level. As he did so, his foot slipped on the metal frame, and Aidan quickly grabbed the man's arm, keeping him on his feel as he steadied himself. The trace amount of blood on the man's head told the young vigilante that the crash may have had a greater impact than he'd anticipated.

"You alright?" He asked, words garbled both by his modulator and the weight of the muscled older man.

"Peachy." Came the rough response, sarcasm bringing a quick smile to his face. "Wait, where's China?"

"Got thrown off in the crash." Aidan informed him, free hand pulling out his baton. "She can't have gone far."

The pair began to move, the man pulling out a gun while Aidan's other hand found its own weapon. Moving around the edge of the truck's crumpled bonnet, the pair were taken by surprise as China seemed to materialise out of nowhere, knocking the gun away and kicking the vigilante square in the ribs, right where her knife had cut him only minutes before. As the air was forced out of him, pain flaring along the impact area, Aidan fell back, weapons dropping with a clatter as his hands flew to stem the sudden blood flow. His foot caught on a loose piece of debris, and he fell, forced to watch as, once again, China and the dark-skinned man fought.

This time, the fight seemed a lot more one-sided. The woman was clearly out for blood, forcing her opponent on the defensive as her knife flew through the air, ready to take advantage of any weakness. The man put up a good fight, but, finally, she got a lucky hit in, sending the bigger man to his knees. There was a flash of steel as a switchblade appeared in the man's hand, but it wouldn't be enough. Desperately looking around, Aidan quickly grabbed and hurled one of his batons, the heavy metal knocking the knife from China's grasp. A second later, the woman was pulled away as a bola wrapped around her, pressing her tightly against a nearby utility pole. Aidan didn't need to guess where that had come from, as the hooded figure of the vigilante appeared, moving to check on the larger man.

"You've changed." China remarked. "You would have killed me by now if you hadn't."

A hand was thrust in front of Aidan, and he grabbed it as the dark-skinned man pulled him to his feet. His teeth gritted as the move agitated his injuries, but he managed to stay upright as the man let go.

"You good?" He asked, and Aidan shrugged in response.

"Been better." He muttered, carefully bending to pick up the nearby baton. The man did the same, passing him the weapon's twin. Aidan huffed out a laugh as he pulled the curved knife from where it had stuck in the pole, pushing both into his pocket. He'd find a use for it, he was sure.

"The police can take the shipment the rest of the way." The Arrow spoke, turning to face the two other men. As his gaze passed over Aidan, the man nodded slightly. He knew what it meant. And, while he still liked to work in his own little circle, it would be nice to know there was someone out there to back him up, should he need it. Plus, the assurance that the bow-wielder wouldn't be hunting him down anytime soon didn't hurt.

Sending a matching nod in return, Aidan made his way over to his fallen bike, heaving it up and setting off back to base. He could hear more voices behind him, but didn't care. After tonight, all he wanted was to get patched up and sleep for a very long time. A month sounded nice.

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'After a prolonged pursuit, police have arrest Chien Na Wei, a high-ranking member of the local Chinese Triad, which was responsible for the recent hijackings of pharmaceuticals bound for Glades Memorial. Representatives praise the efforts of the SCPD in saving the hospital from shutting down, though some sources say the Vigilante may have been involved.'

Down in the Crypt, Aidan was, once again, sat in the makeshift hospital, eyes glued to the small television that had been set up. One had was playing with the curved blade taken from the earlier fight, spinning it around his finger, while Sin finished off his stitches. Three new scars crossed his body, with a large patch of purpling bruises growing halfway along the lowest one.

"Good to see the cops in this city are as efficient as ever." He mocked, before hissing at a particularly painful push of the needle. "Hey, watch what you're doing!" He complained, looking down at his hard-working friend.

"Oh, don't be such a baby." Sin shot back. "I'm almost done." Another few deft movements, and she stood back up. "There. Now, would baby wike a wowwipop?" Aidan pouted slightly, before realising what he was doing.

"Not funny." Sin laughed as he stood up, carefully testing the stitches before moving back into the hub.

"Oh, cheer up." The girl told him. "Medicine's getting to the hospital, the Triad's been kicked back again, and we get the night off. How's it get any better?"

"You told Sara about what happened?" Aidan asked, incredulous. The only time he'd ever get a night off from training would be if he was dead, and they both knew it.

"Nah." Sin waved it off. "She called, something about personal business. Told me to tell you."

"Right…" He mused, wondering for a minute before brushing his suspicions aside. Sara had more than earned the right to her own privacy. And anyway, he was far too scared of the blonde ninja to even try and stick his nose in.

"So," Sin clapped her hands, drawing his attention as he quickly pulled a shirt over his head, "we goin' food or movie?" Her question was answered a moment later as her friend's stomach growled loudly. Between work shifts, training and stakeouts over the past few days, he hadn't had much time to eat anything more filling than the occasional cereal bar. Sin took it in her stride, though, grabbing his hand and tugging him behind her, in a way that had been ingrained into the both of them over the last ten years.

"Come on," she called back to him, "there's this new Mexican place I want to try." Aidan could only laugh as he gave in, letting himself be pulled up the winding stairs. After all he'd done, he had most definitely earned a night off.

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The hōzen, sat atop the file she had been working on, managed to drag every ounce of concentration in her head towards it. Staring at the little stone, Thea's eyes began to move upwards, towards the person who had placed it there.

"If I want to stay, do I keep it or give it back?" Roy asked her. "You were a bit unclear."

Her eyes could not leave him, his words filling her with a hope that had been painfully lacking in her lately. "You mean it?" She asked, her words tentative, overwhelmed by what this could mean.

"No more fighting." Roy promised. "You are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, and it's not like the Glades really needs some hothead running around trying to get himself killed anymore." A skull passed over his eyes, before Thea's beaming smile pushed the image away. "I'm done trying to be a hero."

Rising from her seat, Thea quickly pulled Roy into a tight hug, one that he didn't hesitate to return. Above everything else, it was this feeling, this warmth that he had missed the most. It had haunted him like an ever-present torture through all of his thoughts, and now it was back. But even as he enjoyed the sensation, he could still feel the slight weight in his back pocket, the shape of the crimson flechette pressing against his skin. And something inside him, very deep down, twisted painfully at the combination of these two feelings which never should have met.

In truth, he had only just managed to make this decision. Ten minutes ago, he had been trying to build up the resolve to either tell Thea, or destroy both the rock and the cheque. He hadn't been kidding when he said he didn't do well with ultimatums. And then he had shown up. The Vigilante, the Hood. The man who had saved his life had finally come back, and Roy was more than ready to join him, to thank him by falling in behind him in the fight for the city. What he had been told had forced him to do a complete 180.

"To do what I do, I need intel. You can be my eyes and ears in the Glades. That's how you can save the city."

Roy hadn't wasted a second before agreeing. He would always want to help, he couldn't change that. But now, his mission had changed. He wouldn't fight, but he would learn. He would listen and watch, hearing what was going on and seeing the truth among the lies, to help the Vigilante save his city. He just wished he didn't have to lie to Thea in this way. To break her trust again, after only just regaining it.

"Listen," Thea said slowly, pulling away from him, "I've been doing some thinking of my own lately."

"That's never a good sign." Roy interjected, the light smirk slightly spoiling his mask of false concern. "You sure you feel alright?"

"Oh, very funny." Thea shot back. "Just…just listen. Please?" Roy nodded.

"Look, I really like you, Roy, and I'm glad we've been able to spend this time together. Even with all that's happened, these have been some of the best times of my life when I'm with you." She took a deep breath, and Roy could see her visibly shudder before she began to speak again. "But it just doesn't feel right anymore. We've argued more in the last few weeks than we have since we got together, and that plus your night life…"

"But, I gave that up." Roy insisted, mind working overtime. Was this what he thought this was?

"I know you did." Thea quickly corrected herself. "But that's not the point. You were going out, night after night, getting yourself nearly killed, and you didn't even tell me until I literally forced the truth out of you. And then, when I begged and begged for you to stop, you wouldn't. You'd lie, go behind my back, anything except actually listen to me. So, for now, I think it's best if we break up." Roy was about to interject, when Thea's hand was quickly raised in front of his mouth. "I'm not saying this has to be permanent, or that I want you to leave. I don't. I'm not lying when I say that I care about you, I do. On some level, I think I still love you. And yes, you did give me back the stone. But that's only the beginning. I can't trust that you won't just go back on your deal when you see something that you want to help with. I still want you in my life, I still want you to be my friend. But until that trust is back, I just can't be with you. I know this is hard to hear, but…"

"No." Roy stopped her. "You're right." He sighed. "You're right, I lied to you, for months. And I'm sorry about that. But I understand. This isn't the first time I've been dumped, and it probably won't be the last."

"I know that this probably isn't how you wanted this to go," Thea admitted, "but I just need some time. You're a great guy, Roy, really, and I know that any girl out there would be lucky to have you."

"Well, I am quite the catch." Roy said snootily, puffing himself up and gripping at a non-existent lapel. This brought Thea to laughter in a matter of seconds, and the room softly echoed with the pair's chuckles.

"So, are you alright with this?" Thea asked again, and Roy gently grabbed her hand in his.

"Of course, I am." He relieved her. "It doesn't matter whether I'm your boyfriend or just your friend. I'm here for you, for as long as you need me. Besides," he admitted, "you're pretty much the only girl who would actually put up with me." Thea laughed, before holding out her arms.

"Friends?"

"Friends." Roy confirmed, scooping his ex into another embrace, although this one had a very distinct difference. Where before he had felt conflicted, now it was as though that tension inside of him had been lifted away. Some of it was still there, of course, snug at the base of his gut, but now there was some hope in him that things might be able to work. They weren't perfect, not by a long shot, but he still had Thea in his life, as well as his mission for the Glades, a situation he hadn't thought possible when he'd came in. And, come hell or high water, Roy swore that he would be there for both of them when they needed him. He'd find a way to make it work. He had to.

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Ok guys, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy.

I'll admit, the ending isn't great. This is the first breakup I've ever done, and I wasn't quite sure how to end it. Any suggestions for updates are welcome, as are just normal reviews.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I'll see you around

TimeFury1347