Note: This takes place during Damaged, and it focuses a lot on Malcolm

Strength

Malcolm muted the television and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. He was still at Merlyn Global, so his reactions were mild and controlled as he processed the idea that Oliver Queen was the vigilante. Some small part of Merlyn scoffed at such an idea; he had watched the boy grow up almost as a second son. Oliver Queen was no killer, and he was Robert's son.

However a larger part of Merlyn, the more sadistic and cunning side found that it all fit too easily. He had seen Oliver a few days ago, and he had seen how the younger Queen tensed, coiled as if ready to strike. He had watched as Oliver noted his surroundings; that was a reaction of a man who was a survivor, someone who knew danger and could fight back.

The mask Oliver wore was so similar to his own. The pain and rage was concealed beneath a thin layer of apathy, and the only reason Malcolm could see it was because he had been so similar. Before the League, he had been unable to control any of his emotions concerning Rebecca's death. Any thought of her would tear him apart, and seeing Tommy was the worse. His young son that looked and reminded him so much of his late wife. He couldn't stand it, so he had left. When he returned from the League, it was with a mask in place, and he had seen the same mask on Oliver's face.

Oliver was dangerous, and while Malcolm had known that prior to this, the news had confirmed just how much of a threat his best friend's son actually was. The island really had changed him, Merlyn couldn't help but think. It made him wonder exactly what happened to the boy that would cause such a drastic development.

The Dark Archer considered his chances for recruiting Oliver to his cause, the Undertaking. The boy obviously had some inkling of what it was with his other persona targeting people off the List. Perhaps it would be worth actually finding out how much Oliver knew; he had obviously been holding some things back about what exactly happened on the island. Robert must have survived for some time; it was the only way Oliver would be able to pick up this mantle.

And in that was what worried Malcolm. He had seen the boy a few times since his return, and Ollie hadn't directed any specific anger towards the elder Merlyn. Oliver had to be, at least, in the dark about Malcolm's involvement in the sinking of the Gambit, but the moment Oliver discovered the truth, he would probably be in Merlyn's office, hood and all. It wasn't worth the risk…

For all Malcolm knew, Oliver did already know the truth and was biding his time. All of this was too dangerous to his Undertaking; he would make this city better. He couldn't have anyone in his way, even his best friend's son. For that, Malcolm did feel a twinge of anguish. The day he convinced Thorne to send off the Gambit, bomb attached, he hadn't planned on Oliver joining in on the journey, and by the time he had learned, it was too late to call the yacht back.

Simply put when Oliver had been found by some miracle five years later alive, Malcolm had been almost just as elated as his son. It was sad to lose Robert, but he had been grateful that Robert's son also hadn't paid the price.

Except for the twenty percent of Oliver's body was now covered in scar tissue… Merlyn's eyes trailed back to the computer where the hacked medical file sat open on his computer screen. When he had first heard about the arrest, he had wasted no time in trying to confirm the reports… the medical file had been his first stop then the video footage. The footage was easily sketchy and not conclusive, but the scars told a different story. They told Merlyn of the man Oliver could be and combine that with the look Meryln had seen on Oliver's face, he found that it wasn't impossible to believe that the young Queen was in fact this vigilante.

It was too bad Malcolm contemplated. When the Hood had shown up and an archer no less, Malcolm had felt the urge to done his own gear and hunt down the other. He wanted to see who was better, but there wasn't any time for that. He had to put a stop to Oliver now, and for that, he felt terrible. He didn't want to end his best friend's son's life, but nothing would stop this Undertaking. For Rebecca, he'd finish this work. He would find strength in her memory and complete his goal of seeing a new Starling City born, free of disease and the vermin in the Glades.

The silence of his office was deafening, and every time he moved for his phone to call one of his men, he found himself frozen. The strength of Rebecca's memory alone wasn't enough for him to call and end Oliver's life. Annoyed with himself, Merlyn reached under his desk for the tape he kept of Rebecca's message that night. This would be enough for him.

As her voice rang out, Malcolm stood and paced, caged. He murmured the words under his breath, words he had committed to memory. She had died alone and agony in the Glades… they each would pay for the pain she felt that night. Resolved strengthened, he glanced towards his hidden wall. Perhaps for something as personal as this, he should don his gear and go after Oliver himself. He didn't like the idea that he would be the one directly taking the boy's life, but his best friend's son at least deserved that over a call to a random hitman.

However Moira would have his head; as it was, she wouldn't be thrilled with her son being killed. Nonetheless, she'd be that much harder to control if she thought it was him directly that took Oliver's life. No, sadly, this had to be done by a second party. He didn't turn off the tape but kept it on replay as he made the call to one of his men.

"Yes," he said crisply. "I need you to go to the Queen residence and put this vigilante to rest. Do not touch the rest of the family and make Oliver's death quick and clean." Malcolm emphasized the end. He did not want it splattered all over the news tomorrow that the young Queen had been shot multiple times before bleeding out. That wouldn't look good for anyone. "Report back to me when it's done." With that, he hung up barely listening to the confirmation the other man gave.

"Forgive me Robert," he whispered to himself. "But not even your son can stand between me and the Undertaking." He poured himself a glass and waited for the inevitable call.

Malcolm's glass crashed into the wall and shattered, and he, in turn, collapsed back into his chair. He ran a weary hand across his face. He had waited half the night to hear confirmation that Oliver Queen was dead; instead, he watched a news report about the vigilante stopping an arm's deal while Oliver Queen was at his bash and on anklet. By the time he had seen the report, there was no way for him to call back the assassin, and he had felt terrible.

At least until the news broke about the botched attempt that the police stopped. While the Queens' didn't say it directly, the police were at fault. They had pinned a massive target on the young man, and during the press conference exonerating Oliver, the detectives had the good decency to look ashamed by their actions.

He should have done more to confirm it was Oliver… Malcolm frowned and cursed himself internally. It was a mistake, but at least, nothing had come out of it. Oliver was still alive and with the police dropping all charges, he wouldn't be a target anymore.

Still, Merlyn couldn't shake how certain he had been. The boy had been so similar to him in those beginning years after the League. Malcolm decided to keep an eye on Oliver at the very least; he owed Robert that after all this. He could tell something was off with the younger Queen, but there was always a chance it was simply the nightmares the island had brought… the twenty percent of his body… If he was careful and caring, he could learn more about what happened, even learn how long Robert lived and who else he could have told about the Undertaking and the List…

That was if Moira didn't kill him first.