AN: Since I forgot a note in the last chapter, I'll put one here too. This won't be a role-swap story, as the first chapter might suggest. Oliver is still the Arrow. He just got there a little differently. At this point in the story, Felicity has had some training in hand-to-hand and sword combat, but she's mostly proficient with pistols. She'll play an in-field role in several episodes, but I've avoided rewriting scenes from the show unless something is drastically different. Also, I didn't just throw Sin's character in. She's here for a reason.
My current plans for this story are to update every Wednesday.
October 27, 2012:
An anonymous call to the police had been made regarding a potential assassination at the Unidac Industries Auction by a sniper going by the name of 'Deadshot'. Oliver had the impression that Detective Lance had only informed his family of the threat because it had been an order from somewhere up the chain of police command. He also got the impression that Lance himself was more interested in keeping an eye on his stepfather than he was with trying to find the assassin. He'd gotten it into his head that Walter was behind the hit and probably wanted to watch for anything that might implicate Walter in giving a signal for the assassination. Doing so would give him leverage to lock up one of Starling's high-rollers-that Walter was a member of the Queen family would simply be an added bonus.
Oliver was only lucky that someone in this city other than himself seemed to have their eyes on Deadshot, otherwise he may never have gotten another chance to find the sniper who'd eliminated one of the people on the List. But, this anonymous caller, if they were correct, had inadvertently informed Starling's new archer vigilante where Deadshot would strike next. Once he'd taken care of Deadshot, Oliver would need to look into the anonymous caller. After all, no one else seemed privy to Deadshot's presence in the city, and he needed to make sure it wasn't one of the hitman's equally dangerous enemies who wanted to see him captured or put down.
In the end, the mission was the only reason he'd agreed to attend the auction at all, and Oliver was ready to jump into action the moment he set foot in the building. He didn't have to wait long, and it turned out to be a fortunate turn of events when Detective Lance's hawk-like focus on Walter had ended up saving the Englishman's life.
Walter was fine, and that knowledge inspired Thea and their mother to leave the auction site to make their way to safety. Now that he knew his family was out of the crosshairs, Oliver was shifting into Hunter mode. He knew roughly where the shots had come from. The sound of the first shot was almost enough for him to pinpoint the exact building, and each successive shot had narrowed the location to the point that he now had the building and an estimation of the floor number.
In not but a few short minutes, he was hooded up and preparing to grapple across the street, and now the suppressed flash of Deadshot's rifle gave Oliver the exact floor he needed to go to. The hitman was clearly trying to cover up who his target was by creating utter chaos, and the news stations would probably spin the story that the sniper was simply on a killing spree. If Oliver had his way, that story would end with the police finding the sniper's body with at least one arrow in it.
What Oliver hadn't been expecting was the additional gunfire that broke out even as he was still grappling to his destination through the air half a dozen stories above the busy city street below. The initial bark of a high-powered rifle was interrupted by a smaller gunshot. Judging by the volume and rate of fire as whoever it was kept shooting to force Deadshot behind cover, it was probably a handgun. That made the vigilante think that perhaps Lance's people had been more on top of the situation than he'd originally thought, but there was only one shooter-police officers most often traveled in pairs. When Deadshot retaliated against the gunfire, his weapon sounded almost like an automatic one, but there was something not quite right about it. It didn't sound like any weapon Oliver had ever encountered before, and he'd encountered far more than his fair share-usually aimed at him.
As it turned out, Oliver wasn't the only non-law-enforcement entity after Deadshot. By the time he smashed through the window of the vacant high-rise, that was abundantly clear because there was no police backup on the way to the building. What he didn't expect, however, was for his current supposed ally to be so small. His initial and lasting instinct was that this vigilante, also wearing a hood, was a kid, what with the small stature and the Converse-type sneakers worn by his masked compatriot. Anything else he might discern, however was obscured by a pair of shaded goggles and a lower-face-concealing mask.
Oliver almost second-guessed this instinct when the kid twisted out of cover in a very fluid and practiced motion and leveled his handgun, squeezing off three rounds that forced Deadshot into hiding. The tight grouping of bullets left in the concrete column lead the newly arrived archer to believe that the kid had something against killing, that lack of intent was undoubtedly one of the reasons he'd had no luck taking Deadshot down even after getting the drop on him. With groupings like that, accuracy clearly wasn't the issue holding him back. Hesitation, however, would get him killed, particularly when going up against a hitman with the shooting skill of a master sniper.
The Hood, as the public had apparently taken to calling him, made his official entrance into the fight then. He stepped up beside a pillar and set an arrow loose just as the kid got back behind cover of his own pillar and Deadshot poked out to retaliate. The man almost didn't notice him in time, but he was behind cover just as the arrow whizzed by. Oliver sidestepped to the pillar's other side and let another arrow fly the instant the far end of the complex was in view, and this arrow too missed it's mark as Deadshot reversed direction again.
The muteness of his surroundings as all the gunfire ceased was so sudden that it was almost deafening to Oliver. A quick glance to his left showed the archer that the kid, his back to the pillar just opposite him, was probably out of ammo. He popped the magazine out of his handgun, and his shoulders slumped just enough to show his frustration.
"And here I thought the Hood worked alone," said Deadshot from his hiding spot across the room. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It would be you who had this kid hack into my laptop."
He most certainly hadn't, and Oliver found himself more curious now than he was before as to the kid's identity.
"How'd you find out who I was? I'd like to cover up my tracks after we're done here."
As he cast a glance at the kid, however, Oliver nearly cursed his luck aloud when he saw the kid disappear around the other side of the pillar he'd just been hiding behind-good lord, was that a backpack he was wearing? He knew the kid was trying to get the drop on Deadshot, but he was probably going to get himself killed doing it.
Oliver always hated babysitting.
"I didn't, and we're not partners," he said to keep Deadshot's focus on him. "You must just be the kind of person who attracts unwanted attention."
"Two hoods working separately?" came Deadshot's indignant reply, and Oliver took this as his chance to sneak from his own cover.
He approached the sniper's cover slowly with his bow drawn but pointed somewhat downward to keep his view of Deadshot's cover column free. With a glance, Oliver found he had to commend the kid. If he hadn't already known he was there, sneaking along opposite and a little ahead of him, the archer may not have noticed him at all. The kid's footfalls were controlled and rolled well-enough to keep them silent, at least from this distance, and he clung well-enough to the shadows to keep himself mostly obscured-although his black clothing also helped to that end.
Oliver's distraction with the kid cost him, however, as Deadshot rounded the corner of his column then, pinning the archer out in the open with his bow still pointed harmlessly at the floor. Oliver went still as Deadshot grinned in the face of his victory, and Oliver berated himself for his own folly.
He was just about to jump into action, banking on his reflexes being quicker between the two of them, when the kid made his move, and Oliver was surprised when he saw the kid was wielding a sword. The kid hit Deadshot in the back of the knee, and that no blood was shed tells Oliver that the blade had been mostly dulled in order to best avoid dealing lethal damage-this kid would surely get himself killed with restraint like that. Deadshot's arm flew wide as his knee buckled, and dodging the spray of bullets he got off was then a simple enough task for Oliver.
Deadshot turned from Oliver then, and he whipped out a bowie knife. The kid's skills with a sword clearly weren't up to par with his ability to shoot because the sniper outmaneuvered him even though the kid's blade offered him much greater reach. For his failing efforts, the kid got a nicely sized slash on his bicep, and it was Oliver's quick actions that saved his life. The archer made it to the brawling pair, and just as Deadshot leveled his wrist-machine gun with the kid's face, he pulled back on the scruff of the kid's baggy hoodie, throwing him back and out of the way. The bullets passed through empty air, and Oliver heard the kid hit the ground with a grunt, but he didn't turn to check if he'd been hit or not.
The hitman fared much worse against Oliver than he had the kid. After trading several blows for blocks, Oliver had landed several shots on a number of pressure points and then had the man pinned to the wall by the throat using arm end of his bow. Deadshot jabbed him in the shoulder in an attempt to throw him off, and the second strike did the trick, hit a nerve that made Oliver's arm buckle involuntarily.
Deadshot stumbled away, choking to regain his breath, and he leveled his wrist-machine gun on Oliver. He got off a quick burst of shots, but the archer was one step ahead of him. With a simple sidestep, he released an already knocked arrow, and his aim held true as Deadshot dropped to the ground with an arrow through the scope covering his left eye.
With the man now put down, Oliver spun on his heel with another arrow knocked, intending to find out who the kid was under his mask. He was surprised to find that the kid, however, had disappeared. What Oliver did find was a laptop, sitting on the ground where he estimated the kid had landed after he'd thrown him back. He retrieved the laptop, hoping something on it might lead him to the kid's identity, and he ultimately decided to take Deadshot's knife as well. The kid's blood, after all, was on the blade and was hopefully in the system somewhere.
Any thoughts of looking further for the kid in the surrounding area fled from his mind in quick order, however, when Oliver turned to vacate the building before the police arrived. Because John Diggle had clearly made his way over to locate the sniper as well, leaning against the doorframe of the stairwell.
And he'd been hit.
Oliver didn't know what exactly he'd been expecting to come of the offer, but he'd admittedly had higher hopes for it than Diggle's outright refusal. He'd known convincing the man wouldn't be easy. Diggle was a former soldier-though many would argue that one didn't simply stop being a soldier when the uniform came off-so killing wasn't a new concept to him. He was also, however, a man of strong and upstanding morals. Casualties off the battlefield were unacceptable in his mind. Oliver had tried explaining to the man that he was fighting a war, a war against the cancer eating away at his city, but the man hadn't been able to hear him. It all boiled down to the simple fact that John Diggle couldn't overlook the body count that came with his crusade.
Oliver almost wished he could feel the same. Killing, however,was something he did without second thoughts now-a vast difference to when he'd first begun to learn his skills. He ended threats. Permanently, to keep them from causing further damage. That was what this city needed. It needed a surgeon to mercilessly cut out the tumors that had been allowed to fester for far too long. It needed a hunter to track and slay the greedy who had widened the rift between the rich and the poor, raised themselves to wealth and power by stepping on the throats of the less fortunate.
He'd hoped Diggle would be his ally in this crusade, but that door had shut, at least for now. If he didn't want that door locked, he knew he needed to back off for a while, so Oliver resigned himself to the fact that he would have to keep at it alone for longer still.
He let his head fall back onto the headrest of his desk chair, and Oliver knew he needed to head home to check on his family. They were probably going to be furious that he'd just disappeared from the auction, and he didn't really know what excuse he could give them this time. Missing a family dinner was one thing, but vanishing after a shooting was a whole other snake-pit to throw himself into. He was already not looking forward to what was waiting for him, but he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. They were probably worrying themselves sick, hoping he hadn't somehow been caught in the crosshairs of the sniper who'd nearly taken Walter from them-of course, Oliver had actually been in Deadshot's crosshairs quite a few times that night, but they never needed to know that.
It was as he was about to stand that he heard it: a small beep. Oliver turned toward the source of the sound to find the laptop-the one supposedly left by the hooded kid from earlier that night-was the most likely source, sitting where he'd left in on the table earlier to tend to Diggle. He'd honestly forgotten he'd even grabbed the thing. He needed to make sure it wasn't dangerous, however, and he realized too late that he shouldn't have brought it to the Foundry. He was hardly a computer expert, but he knew remote hacking was certainly possible for those with the technical know-how to pull it off.
Oliver flipped the lid open and pressed the 'enter' key to bring the screen to life. What was waiting for him hadn't quite been what he was expecting to find. It looked like some form of chat window, but it had none of the aesthetic add-ons that he'd come to expect from any social-networking sites or anything else of the like. The screen, completely taken up by the chat window, was almost entirely black save for the single line of text printed across the top.
1925142008: Good to know I'm not the only one who noticed Floyd Lawton was in town. Thanks for taking him down.
The user name seemed to be merely a string of random numbers, but the context of what had just been said confirmed Oliver's suspicions that the hooded kid had indeed left the laptop for him. How the kid was able to chat with him through a device that hadn't been active a moment ago, he wasn't quite sure, but he simply took it to mean they didn't share a lack of understanding when it came to computers-it also reaffirmed the notion that he shouldn't keep the laptop near his own computer systems.
Assuming the kid was correct, he also now had a name to put to Deadshot: Floyd Lawton.
0118181523: Who is this?
Oliver already knew the answer, but he figured he'd fish for information anyway. The response was almost instantaneous, as if the kid had anticipated the question and already had it typed out, just waiting to hit send.
1925142008: Just an anonymous friend who wanted to get a dangerous murderer off the streets.
0118181523: You're the kid in the hood. Were you also the one who called in the tip to the police about Deadshot?
1925142008: Yes.
Oliver thought back to how it had been Detective Lance who'd saved Walter and that it was Walter's safety that had convinced his mother and Thea to get out of the area, and he suddenly found himself feeling gratitude towards this unknown person. He also didn't want to encourage future incursions by voicing such praise, however, so he kept his appreciation to himself.
0118181523: You should leave the crime fighting to the professionals. You could have gotten yourself killed tonight.
It was true. If Oliver hadn't been there, the kid would've died. If not in the gunfight, then by that knife Lawton had pulled.
1925142008: I know.
The next response, much longer than the first, came so quickly that Oliver realised the kid was simply a much swifter typist than himself.
1925142008: That's why I told the police there would be an assassination attempt tonight. I'd hoped they would be able to take him out, but I guess Lawton was two steps ahead of them.
So, it seemed the kid had gone down there to try and stop Lawton in the event that the police weren't on top of their game. He'd only gone after the sniper when it became clear that the police were too busy trying to get the civilians out of harm's way to find him. Oliver could commend the bravery-if this was the true story-but it had been utterly foolish for someone of the kid's caliber to try and take out a man such as Lawton.
1925142008: That was my fault. He found me when I hacked into his laptop and knew I was onto him. It won't happen again.
0118181523: You can't be sure.
1925142008: I can. Because now I can tell you in the future as well.
Oliver wasn't quite sure what he felt as he read this last message. The mistrust was still there, making him question whether or not he could believe the kid, much less rely on him for any accurate intel. But, he also couldn't deny the small spark of pride that ignited in his chest to learn that someone now trusted him to defend his city against the likes of Lawton.
That pride was selfish, however, not befitting a weapon, so he was quick to discard it.
1925142008: I'll be in touch. Keep the laptop.
Oliver sat back in his chair then as the chat log informed him that the kid had logged off, contemplating everything that had been disclosed to him. If he could be believed, it seemed as though he wouldn't be going into the field anymore. Oliver hadn't been lying when he said the kid would get himself killed doing this. Even if his marksmanship was admirable, his lacking skill in other areas would do him in, probably sooner rather than later. Worst of all was the unwillingness to kill.
Oliver still planned to find out who the kid was, however. If what the kid had said was true, then their goals ran along similar lines, but trust was not something that came easily to Oliver anymore. Shooting with such accuracy in moments of duress wasn't a skill one learned over lazy weekends. The kid had seen combat before, and marksmanship such as that could very easily become dangerous if aimed at improper targets. The archer removed from his boot the knife he had confiscated from Deadshot's corpse earlier that night.
With any luck, the kid's blood would be in the system.
A.N.: As a reference to the number strings here at the end, the one that starts with a 0 is Oliver, and the one that starts with a 1 is Felicity.
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