The Discovery
A young woman walked alone through a dark hallway – only a few flickering lights from far-away places letting her see where she stepped.
She was dressed as simply as possible; A pair of somewhat tight pants and a grey tank top. She wore no shoes, letting what sharp things she had already passed cut her feet as she moved, slowly and deliberately.
For a short time the only threats to this young woman were the occasional shards of glass that sliced her feet. But when she reached the end of the dimly-lit hallway, that changed.
A fast-moving bolt flew at her head and she felt the wind push past her cheek when she moved instinctively at the last second. The woman watched the bolt enter the wall with a smile on her face.
The hallway that continued to her right followed that same pattern – automatic crossbows hidden in dark places and bolts flying just past her body. Glass, tripwires, and bolts. This was her life in those few minutes, before this trial ended.
She finally reached the true end of the almost warping hallways. A door in the Shōji design, which is to say a door made of paper and bamboo, marked the end for her.
She opened that door, knelt down low, and present her prize – a strange wooden figure from the other side of the house. A more masculine hand reached down and took it from her.
Malcolm Merlyn smiled.
"Well done, my daughter."
Thea Queen, bastard half-daughter of Moira Queen and the infamous mass-murderer standing in front of her, smiled and stood back up.
"Thanks, dad."
"Let me see your hands." He said, and she presented her palms obediently. Calloused thought they were, they were healing. Malcolm nodded to himself, and closed her hands with his own.
He took a moment to look her over – for she had changed greatly since Slade Wilson's little attack on Starling. Thea was far more athletic, for one, not to mention far stronger. He had cut her hair short, and her outfits had changed. What was once fancy nightclub numbers was now as practical as possible.
His observation complete, Malcolm motioned for Thea to join him to sit down on the series of simple mats that were next to a massive pile of papers and parchment.
This was the other side of her training. Understanding, obtaining and decoding information was key to the life she had now chosen. Like everyday, they both sat cross-legged and went through hundreds of papers, deciding what was useful, and/or reliable.
It was a day the same as any other. Until Malcolm read a small, and seemingly innocuous piece of parchment.
"M,
The dual Queens belong on the same side of the aisle.
Regards,
T"
The architect of The Undertaking, killer of hundreds, fazed by almost nothing, froze.
"I'll be back in a few days." He muttered, and charged out of the room, and indeed the house, paying little to no attention to Thea's incredulous questions as he moved.
By ten minutes, he was out of town. By forty he was leaving the country. To Malcolm Merlyn, his daughter's training had suddenly become far less important – at least if that note was true.
*Heir*
Oliver Queen, since that miserable night on the Queen's Gambit, had never really used the word 'happy'. At least… Not for himself.
Depressing as that was, it was the reality he lived in. That still hadn't changed. But he was admittedly a little… Closer to a happier place than he could recall being in for a long, long time.
Slade Wilson, his brother, was still alive. That mattered. Oliver knew that he would never be like those file on the Justice Society he had read in A.R.G.U.S's files. He'd never be some colourful superhero saving the day with a smile on his face. But he could try to save Slade's soul, try to protect the city he cared for.
And that was important.
Then, in the comm in his ear, he heard the sounds of John Diggle, another of his brothers, talking. An uncharacteristic smirk graced his face.
"… Oliver? You copy?"
Oliver Queen, or as he was now, The Arrow, stood from his perch atop a tall skyscraper, his bow ready at his side.
"I copy, Dig." The Arrow watched as, far below, an armoured and pitch-black van sped down a highway. "This might sound… Oddly optimistic, but this should be relatively easy."
He heard a dry chuckle from his comms. "Welcome to the world other people live in, Oliver."
Without responding verbally, The Arrow reached into his quiver and fired a grapnel arrow in a downward arc, towards a building far enough away from the moving van to give the vigilante enough time to move.
He placed his bow atop the tough cable, and without a moment of hesitation he dove off the ninety-story skyscraper.
The force of the wind almost pushed his hood off as he went down, but he landed at the perfect time – his boots hitting the top of the van with a thud.
The infamous vigilante felt like humming a tune as he worked – but he didn't, he wasn't insane.
The Arrow held onto the top of the van as he swung down, slamming a small satchel onto the back of the van. He pulled himself back onto the roof, braced, and pressed the button on the detonator he now held.
The explosion was dramatic but focused. It blew both 'secure' doors off their respective hinges and flew onto the highway.
"Backup's gonna be there in less than two minutes." Diggle warned, and The Arrow grunted in response.
He swung down into the interior of the van, calmly dodging a gunshot from the bewildered-looking mercenary, and slamming his head into the well-armoured crate. The crate that was The Arrow's objective. He grabbed the man, and threw him out of the van, where he landed on the road with a bit of a crunch sound.
He was still alive.
Probably.
Seventy percent chance.
Potential fatality aside, The Arrow had an objective; the very dangerous cargo within that crate. They only had a small window to obtain this cargo, keep it out of the hands of some very bad people, and find a way to extract it themselves.
Needless to say, they hadn't had much time to plan.
The Arrow mused to himself for a moment. "Dig, how armoured are the cargo crates that the military uses?"
Dig replied after a brief moment. "… Pretty armoured."
Oliver shrugged. "Okay then."
With one strong kick, the vigilante shoved the cargo out of the van, and it almost bounced through sheer force before grounding itself with a very loud thudding sound.
Two black cars, the backup they had been expecting, swerved desperately to avoid the crate on the road as they arrived on the scene. One smashed halfway through a barrier before stopping, and the other kept pace.
The Arrow let a shot off in the active car's engine block, and it swerved to the side. Civilian traffic, at first barely a factor, was now quickly catching up.
Oliver heard Diggle mutter a few curse words, before the distinctive sound of a sniper rifle could be heard.
The backup goons were trying to shoot The Arrow as he was quickly vanishing from their view, but they stopped very quickly as bullets went into knees.
The Arrow leapt onto the roof once more, smashed an arm through the driver-side window, pulled the driver out of the window and slammed him onto the roof of the van. With one punch, he knocked the man out.
"The cops are getting close." Dig warned, and Oliver could hear him packing away his gear.
"Got it." Oliver grunted. His 'relationship' with the police had greatly improved since Slade's attack, but he didn't feel like testing the waters tonight.
The Starling City Vigilante looked over his work. The cargo would be picked up by the cops, hopefully the less corrupt ones, and be secured for at least some time until someone else pulled off another heist. But, by corrupt cops or clever criminals, he'd be back to set things right.
And that was the justice that Oliver knew Starling City could have. It was slow, it was hard. But it was justice.
And that was goddamn satisfying.
*Heir*
"Well emergency mission aside, we've been doing pretty well this month." Diggle said, clapping his hand over Oliver's shoulder as he walked past him.
"We've… Made progress." Oliver admitted. He was stood by a table in their new-and-improved base, sorting through his hardcopy files as Felicity did the same digitally. He catalogued the series of military documents they had 'borrowed' from various sources and put them in his dossier – the compilation of all of Oliver's intel. He hoped that no-one else would ever have to see this dossier, for he had a plan. Upon his death, in specific circumstances, copies of his intel would be sent to five people.
"Come on, Oliver." Felicity Smoak, I.T department of Starling City's vigilantes, chimed in from her spot by the series of monitors. "We've kicked crime's ass!"
"Crime doesn't die, it evolves." Oliver retorted. "But… You're right. We should celebrate a little."
"Call the presses, Oliver Queen's being positive." Diggle said, sarcasm laced in his tone. He pulled open a lower drawer – four down, beneath the one that held several pistols – and showed off the half-full bottle of Russian Vodka. "This celebration enough?"
Oliver let a smile grace his face, and accepted the glass offered to him.
The toast was quick but fun. A simple toast of 'to stopping the bad guys', and patting Felicity's back when she struggled with the strong drink, and then they were headed out the secret entrance into the alley behind Verdant.
The three still had lives to live. Diggle had Lyla, Felicity had to work out her life now that Queen Consolidated was in a state of limbo post-Isabel Rochev, and Oliver still had to put his funds together from his multiple private bank accounts in his efforts to re-acquire his family's business. Not to mention he had to keep training Roy…
The three chatted amicably on their way out, even getting a chuckle out of Oliver.
Everything was fine until they reached the parking lot of Verdant (which was still being rebuilt).
Then everything went sideways.
Felicity was entering the passenger side of Diggle's car when it started. Oliver detected it first – the subtle round of a series of silenced rounds going off.
"GET DOWN!"
Oliver barely had time to yell before the bullets went past their heads, missing them both by inches at best. Oliver slid behind Dig's car as more bullets came. The bulletproof car was all that kept them alive.
Oliver reached below the back of the car and passed his brother in arms the pistol hidden there.
"Danger close, Oliver." Diggle gasped, out of breath. "Felicity, stay behind the car."
Oliver nodded, his eyes moving across to the closest street. The trajectory of the bullets, or at least what Oliver could make of it in the night, had probably come from somewhere around there. He stared at his car, a few parking spots away, and made a decision.
"Cover me." He ordered, and as bullets from Diggle's gun went off he ran once more – getting behind his car without even a scratch. Like Dig's car, everything was as bulletproof as humanely possible.
Oliver saw that Dig was looking in his direction and jerked his head in the direction of his own car, and he nodded in understanding.
The bodyguard slid his own gun across the concrete to Oliver, and the archer grabbed it and used one hand to provide his own covering fire for the vital few seconds he needed. He made it into the back of his own car, and climbed into the front.
Oliver gritted his teeth then put the keys in the ignition, and slammed the accelerator – turning towards the gunfire, bullets stopping inches from Oliver's face. He felt the car go faster, and faster, and faster-
The car slammed into something organic, and Oliver saw with the headlights of his car that he had slammed into three masked men with silenced automatic weapons, and he heard the sickening crunch of bones being crushed.
The distraction was enough for Oliver to burst out of his car and fire a round into one man's head. Blood and brains splattered onto Oliver as he heard the click of the pistol. He let the magazine fall into his other hand as he charged towards the last two men.
He threw the magazine at one's head as he slammed the pistol into the other's face, with enough force to push the man onto the street pavement. Oliver beat the man's face in until it was a bloody pulp, then beat it some more, as Diggle sounded like he was breaking the other man's hand.
"WHO SENT YOU?!" Oliver shouted, letting off two more punches. The man screamed and spat out blood, but before he could reply-
Three silenced bullets entered the air, and for the briefest moment Oliver didn't know where they went.
After that moment, everything changed.
He saw Diggle first. One bullet leaking out blood from his upper chest, as the bodyguard fell to his knees, barely breathing.
Then he looked to Felicity.
Two bullets impacted her, both into her chest. Blood spurted from her as she fell.
Oliver ran to his friends, sparing a glance at the gunman – already dying from Oliver's car, no longer a threat. He passed by Diggle, who kept enough pressure on his wound to survive for now, but Felicity…
She couldn't really breathe. Blood poured from her wounds and her mouth as she laid on the cold pavement.
"Felicity..."
"Oliver..." Was all she could choke out, before it ended for her. She breathed her last in pain and the cold of the night. Her hand fell from where it was trying to touch Oliver's face, and then she was gone.
He looked over the scene. In the dark night, seven laid dead as another struggled to keep living.
Oliver Queen looked from the dead corpse of Felicity Smoak and the almost-corpse of John Diggle, and let out a single, inhuman scream into the night sky.
A/N: The next chapter is entitled "The Key To Vengeance"
I hope everyone enjoyed this opening chapter, please leave your feedback and comments if you wish, it has the magic power to make me write faster.
See you soon...