Head throbbing. Eyes opened – they hurt. No pain. Lots of nausea. Can't see. All white. No. Colour. Fluorescent light. Stacks of boxes. A back room somewhere?

Ollie rolled on his side and put a hand to his head. The Question must have pumped some sort of knockout gas into the back of the car.

Yes, that was it, the Question, and his buddy, Col. Flag. What had they done? Where were they.

"Well that was quick," came a familiar voice. Ollie rolled around to find the source of the sound.

There, between him and the door, sat Roy, his old sidekick, flanked by Flag and the Question. Ollie scuttled back and tried to stand up, but the gas hadn't quite worn off and he just slumped against a stack of boxes.

"Roy, what's going on here?"

"Q had to knock you out so you wouldn't know where we're meeting, just in case." Roy picked up the brewer from the table in front of him and poured four cups of coffee. The smell was enticing.

"But first things first. Have a cup of coffee – it helps kick the effects of the gas," said Roy, picking up a cup and, after adding a little milk, taking a sip.

Ollie narrowed his eyes slightly. "No thanks."

"The man's offering you hospitality," said Flag pointedly, who proceeded to take a slurp out of another cup. "The least you could do is accept a friendly drink." Ollie slowly picked up a cup, added some milk and a sugar cube, and took a careful sip. It didn't taste poisoned. He didn't feel any different. Well, if they were all drinking from the same brewer, he was probably safe.

"So Ollie," said Roy, "do you know what happened to Queen Industries after you were imprisoned?"

"I heard it was seized by the Justice Lords and folded into Wayne Enterprises. I only hope Batman kept up my wage regulations." Ollie noticed that the Question was somehow drinking his coffee through his face, and he thought he could make out the shape of a mouth behind it. A fancy mask, then.

"A lot of good people resigned in protest after you were imprisoned. Some of them are doing quite well."

"Any go to prison?"

"A few, but not for quitting. You can't exactly put someone in jail for leaving their job."

"What for, then?"

"Criticising the Justice Lords, some unauthorised vigilantism." Awkward silence. Ollie took another sip. It was pretty good coffee.

"Any plans now you're a free man?"

"Well, I can't start a new company, and most people won't want somebody who's been in prison, so I guess I have to learn to flip burgers."

"What do you think of the Justice Lords, Mr. Queen?" asked Flag.

"They scare me. I hate them." What? No! Don't say that! "They've become tyrants, the very things they used to fight against." What's wrong with me? Why am I being so uncautious?

Roy, Flag, and Question exchanged glances. "Oliver," said the Question, setting his half-empty mug down on the table. "The coffee is laced with a truth serum. For about the next half hour, each of us is only capable of saying what he means. And if you try to say something technically true but misleading, you'll find that impossible."

"In that case, you mind telling me what this is all about?"

Flag answered. "We're part of a network of politicians, power-brokers, movers and shakers, metahumans, and black ops mercenaries with one thing in common – we are humanity's last hope against the Justice Lords."

"So what do you intend to do about them?"

"We're building up a a significant amount of arms, personnel, and devices capable of neutralising the Justice Lords. In addition, we know at least some of the Lords are unhappy with the status quo and might be willing to join our side."

"OK. So you build up a force several times greater than the US government of five years ago that can take down the Lords. Then what?"

"We return political power to the rightful government."

"Forgive me for being skeptical, but I don't think that will happen. What's to stop you from simply taking power from the Lords and becoming an even more powerful force for oppression?"

"Our goals..."

"Yes, I know you have good intentions, but throughout history, those with good intentions all too often become the worst oppressors of all, because they can't see they've become the tyrants. Look at the Lenin, or Robespierre, or Oliver Cromwell."

"Ollie, Colonel Flag can't lie, remember?" said Roy. "Doesn't that prove we'll give power back to the people?"

"You know very well that someone can say something false if they believe it to be true. You think you'll be the great liberator, but how do you know you won't just replace one Superman with another?"

"Because I swore an oath to protect my country from all threats, foreign and domestic, and I intend to keep it!" shouted Flag.

"Actually, you're right," said Roy. "We are in danger of becoming the new oppressors. That's part of why we need you, Ollie. You're the most liberal guy I know. If anyone will stop us going down the same slippery slope that the Justice Lords did, it'll be you."

The door opened and a woman poked her head in – and what a woman! Lustrous blonde hair cascaded over supple shoulders to frame a high-cheeked face bearing pair of shiny red lips and the bluest, brightest eyes he'd ever seen. Those eyes were so entrancing Ollie almost didn't notice her breasts.

"You guys nearly done in here?" she asked.

"Ten minutes, Dinah," said Roy. "Ollie isn't entirely convinced yet." Dinah gave a slight nod and closed the door.

"Ollie? Ollie? Earth to Ollie!"

"Huh, what?" Ollie realised he'd been staring at the door.

"Oh, uh, well, you know, now I take a moment to consider it, I think I'd like to work with you after all." Roy gave a barely perceptible roll of his eyes.

"So where are we?"

"At the moment, a back room at the Star City library," said Question. "If you need to meet someone here, ask for the Washington Bible at reception. They'll ask if you meant the Jefferson Bible; say you specifically want the Washington one.

"But our next meeting will be somewhere else. In the meantime, you'll want to visit here regularly, because the Justice Lords are tracking you."

"What?!"

"That's right. They implanted some sort of chip while you were in prison."

"How do I get it out?"

"You don't. If it doesn't move about at all, the Lords will get suspicious."

Ollie opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. That was a good point.

"Don't feel bad. Lots of our members have chips like that. As long as no more than a few of the get together at a time, the Lords don't worry."

"So apart from keeping you honest, what do you want me to do?"

"For one thing," said Flag, "we need every body we can get. You're a good fighter, Mr. Queen; that'll be useful soon enough. Furthermore, you have plenty of valuable contacts from when you were a CEO – we'd like you to scope out those people you know who might be able to provide us with material and funding."

"OK, I can do that."

"But be discreet," said Question. "The last thing we want is someone reporting suspicious activity to the Lords."

"In the meantime," said Roy, "here's a list of your former employees who resigned when you were locked up. They'll be a good starting point, and one of them might give you a job. We'll contact you about the next meeting."

"Right. Well, if there's nothing else, I'd best get started then." They rose, and Flag extended his hand. He had a good, strong grip.

"Oliver Queen, welcome to Cadmus."