To my family, I am the brother and son who just returned home after being lost at sea 5 years ago. They don't know I came back with a mission, to bring justice to our city, and they never can. The men and women I've targeted are dangerous, corrupt, a virulent cancer. Cancers like James Holder, whose corporation put defective smoke detectors in low-income housing in the Glades. There have been many fires and too many funerals. But cancers can be fought and conquered. All it takes is a surgeon and the right instrument.

James Holder is much too confident. Armed with a cell phone and a bathrobe, he clearly doesn't see the vigilante as much of a threat. He's confident in his ability to handle one man armed with a bow and arrow. He's cocky in a way Oliver forgot men could be. He's so sure he can handle this threat and Oliver knows one move is all it takes for him to end Mr. Holder.

The guns drop to the ground as Mr. Holder continues to talk about his armed guards. Mr. Holder's eyes widen in fear, an emotion Oliver is more than familiar with. He threatens him, asking questions, showing him fear. It only takes a second, one moment, and Mr. Holder is shot. The body floats in the pool as Oliver ducks behind a pillar. The bullets are being fired from a distance and Oliver knows his arrows will never reach the shooter. All he can do is head back to his safehouse and deal with the bullet wound.

He never expects poison. He's getting sloppy. As the poison takes its effect he rushes to the crate, rips open the bag containing an antidote and hopes he was in time. If not he won't be found for days. He can't stop now. He's only getting started.


When he manages to pull himself off the ground of the safehouse he realizes he's been gone too long. His family will worry and they'll have questions. For a moment he worries about the police presence at the manor, worried the press will be after 'missing Oliver Queen'. The media presence has started to die down and he can't afford to be hounded much longer. He'll slip and someone will figure it out.

Inside, Mr. Diggle waits, overseeing the police presence. It's not about him. It's Thea.

"Is she okay?"

"The cops brought her home. Her and some of her friends broke into a store, tried on some dresses. Lit up the breathalyzer like a Christmas tree."

She looks horrible. Oliver can see the mascara running and the disgruntled look on her face. He remembers that face. The inconvenience of the cops bringing you home when you were having fun. Feeling like you are on top of the world because your last name is Queen.

"So how was your evening sir?"

"You mean after I said I had to go to the bathroom at dinner and never came back?"

"I guess from now on I'll be watching you pee, sir."

Oliver smiles and turns to his family. Moira and Walter are already trying to usher the cops out of the room and Oliver is already calculating the money it will cost to pay off the store. Raisa is at his back, a tray of coffee ready to be offered. She offers him a quick smile and an assessing gaze. He knows he won't fool her. He wasn't with a girl last night and her eyes zero in on the drop of blood on his sweater. Her frown is more than enough.

She gestures to it and Oliver sighs noticing he'll be asked about the blood soon enough. His undershirt will need to be replaced before she notices the bullet wound. The sweater can be explained. The wound...not so much.

"Last time it was public intoxication, this time breaking and entering. My, how we are moving up in the criminal world," Moira remarks. Oliver watches the exchange noticing how little Thea cares. She's defensive, throwing the seriousness back at their mother with abandon. With the secured day off, Thea flounces out of the room, barely swaying in her slight intoxication. Oliver recognizes that walk.

"She's testing you."

"Yes and who did she learn that from?" Touche he thinks. It's been five years but he remembers. He had been, still was a disappointment.

"Mom. When I was her age you and dad let me get away with murder. Looking back I could have used less space and more parenting."

He doesn't stay to hear her response. He was lucky she hasn't brought up the fiasco at the Applied Sciences dedication. He knows it's coming but he doesn't have the time. He needs to retreat his wound and focus on the shooter. He can't have another vigilante running around. The bullets fired weren't surgical. The shooter cared little who was struck in the shooting of Mr. Holder.

Curare is a rare poison he's only encountered briefly. He recognizes the danger and considers his options. A gunman using curare-laced bullets isn't common. He should be known in various databases. A quick search, a few keystrokes and he's got a name. Deadshot. He takes a moment and considers ARGUS but Amanda and him are not speaking currently and he doesn't want to put himself back on her radar.


He doesn't expect Tommy to have anything constructive to offer about the club. He knows it's just going to be Tommy joking about sex and alcohol but sometimes Oliver needs it. He needs to remember what it was like to be normal even though his mind is running through windows and exits, targets, blindspots, etc. He knows he's assessing threats his bodyguard isn't even considering. If he wanted to attack, he would choose a warehouse like this. No one in the Glades would come to his aid. No one ever did here.

Oliver joked about the girls he'd have in the office but it fell flat on his ears. This was only a cover. He didn't need to worry about the real issues. He needed it to be popular enough to camouflage his nighttime activities. Otherwise his manager could handle the details.

He can tell by Diggle's expression, he's not amused. Both of the men are probably remembering his drunken spectacle from a few days ago and wondering why running a club is more appealing than taking a desk job at QC. This one will require some work, the other not so much. Oliver doesn't have time to explain it.

The invitation to visit Max Fuller's club comes as a surprise. He had plans for the evening. He needs to investigate Deadshot but instead he's going to be stuck at a club. It's only a matter of time before Max Fuller notices him. He can take the hit but it's hard straddling the line between Oliver Queen and the vigilante. For the first time he wonders if he made a mistake coming home. He could have been the vigilante without Oliver Queen. The man under the hood doesn't matter.

"So what do you think?" he asks Diggle, needing to distract himself. Diggle doesn't want to answer which makes Oliver even more curious. Diggle has a unique perspective Oliver rarely hears.

"Speak freely Diggle, please."

"Well this is the Glades right?" he asks. "Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet."

"Yes but I'm Oliver Queen, right? If I open a club here people will come just to see the man who survived five years on an island. Plus I'm the trainwreck everyone can't wait to see."

"No one who lives here would see a dime of the money." Diggle's right. It's not really Oliver's concern. He's not here to provide welfare or charity to the people of the Glades. His job is on a much bigger scale. He wants to get rid of corruption and evil in his city.

"If the business is successful, we'll gentrify."

"Ah...there it is. The white knight comes home to save his city. You know why white knights almost always fail in the real world?"

"Why Diggle?"

"Because they do it alone. No help from anybody."

"Wow. You really don't think highly of me."

"Actually, sir I have a very high regard for how perceptive you are." Diggle turns then, leaving Oliver in the large open space. He turns looking over his club, considering. This needs to work. He needs the cover story but Diggle is right. He's going to need help with this. It will give him an alibi but he'll need to figure out how to mask his downstairs base.


Deadshot is a problem. Oliver knows the shooter is probably still in town. He's wanted all over the world but he just knows Deadshot isn't done in Starling City. Every other city hit has at least two dead by the end of Deadshot's visit. He finds the shell and can't believe his luck. He had thought it might be gone by now, obscured by the Glades. Even luckier the trail leads to the Bratva. That's one organization he can handle. His reputation will get him answers.

Even though his reputation will be enough he knows it is only a matter of time before the Starling City Bratva recognizes him. He needs to fly under the radar longer. He doesn't want them approaching him in his private life. He has no soldiers here to work for him and must be careful. He needs information, not trouble.

It is easier than expected to slip back into his Bratva persona. It hasn't been that long but he had sworn that time was behind him. Somehow the darkness slips in and he is thrown back to his time working for them. He knows they will check and his exploits will become known to local members. The mechanic thinks he's enough to threaten him, but Oliver knows it would not be difficult to handle the local group. One word from Russia and he would control them all.

He doesn't glance back at the auto shop once he's cleared the door. He knows they'll be watching him until he gets a few blocks away. His best bet is to head home and get ready for a night out with Tommy. They'll follow him home and figure out his identity if they don't already know. He'll need time to contact Anatoly and smooth his way with Leonov.


The club is loud and overdone. Oliver knows this is what he should go for in his own club but he feels something slightly more subtle will be better. He wants respectable should the cops come investigating. They will. He knows it's only a matter of time before drugs or violence occurs in his club. Ditching Diggle is a bonus. He respects the man to a point but he can't have him breathing down his neck all night.

Within ten minutes he's seen fifteen people who either have or have done drugs in the last thirty minutes. At least five are underage and at least four are members of the Triad. Two of them have weapons. The exits are blocked by bouncers and guards and there are no windows on the main floor. There is lighting that could be used to escape but he hopes it doesn't come to that. Anatoly was unavailable earlier and the Leonov might choose to take silence as a negative response.

"Big Brother!" Thea crashes into him while Tommy and Laurel watch. He didn't expect either of them to be there. She's clearly drunk, maybe drugged and she doesn't seem to care. It's as though she expects him to be the same kid he was five years ago, laugh it off and join in the fun. He sees three different men watching her, their eyes on her hips and her legs.

"I thought you were grounded."

"I am and thanks for that. Mom's only doing this because of you."

"You're done for the night." His anger is simmering already and he wishes he had let Dig follow him into the club. It would be easy to get Dig to escort her out.

His options are limited. He can give her the worried big brother speech. He knows she'll blow it off. He would have blown it off when he was her age. He had blown off similar speeches from a variety of people. She doesn't care. Thea's on a dangerous path and he knows that while he can save his city, Thea might be lost in the shuffle.

He can see it on her face when he brings up her friends. She's about to be hurtful. She had the same look on her face she had at his welcome home party. Laurel and Tommy look even more worried and he can see. He knows what secret is going to be revealed. Even though he knew, for some reason not feeling anything shocks him more. He really doesn't care about Tommy and Laurel. Why is that?

While Thea continues to spill the beans, Oliver's mind whirls. Why doesn't he care? He never expected to find anything with Laurel again. After Sara...he knew he had to get back to apologize to Laurel and try to make things right. But now...he doesn't care about her that way. It's freeing. Expectations will be slashed but he's at peace with it.

"You and me, we're done for the night." He knows it's a bad move the second he grabs her arm. She's not coming with him. Thea fights back, slipping out of his grasp and he lets her.

"You're not my father. You're barely my brother!" she sneers as she brushes past him. He didn't think Speedy would be the one to hurt so much. He can feel the air closing in around him but Tommy and Laurel are watching him. Before he can begin to do anything, Max Fuller is there.

Back then Max Fuller would have worried him. The muscle would have worried him. Now he knows he'll take the hit. He feels terrible and would rather get punched then be left with time to think about Thea or the gunman he hasn't been hunting.

Tommy will take the hit too but Oliver can make sure Tommy goes down fast. He'll take the brunt. He's already ready. He can feel his blood thrumming in his veins. Ever since the darkness came into his life, he recognizes this moment. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through him. A fight...a hit...oblivion. It's right there.

It's over before it begins. Laurel gets involved and normally he would be thankful to get out of this without taking the beating, he's itching for a fight. He wants to use the moment with Laurel to say he's okay with Laurel and Tommy but he doesn't even get that chance. Laurel shuts him down and more than ever he feels the calling. He will patrol tonight. It's just a matter of ditching Tommy. Oliver Queen has had enough time tonight. The vigilante needs air.


Instead Oliver finds Diggle waiting and the trio set off for food. Tommy is rambling on and on about Max Fuller. He wants to apologize for Laurel but Oliver doesn't want to waste the time. He's still trying to figure out why it doesn't matter to him. Sure he's known for awhile but it should still matter. He always thought he'd marry Laurel.

Dig drops them off at a booth while he heads to talk to the sister-in-law Oliver just learned about. Diggle has a family. Why that surprises him, he doesn't know. Everyone has a family somewhere but Diggle always seems to be at the Queen Mansion. He doesn't talk about himself at all and maybe that is even more telling.

Diggle is in love with her much like Tommy is in love with Laurel. It's obvious to anyone but he knows neither is willing to admit it. Oliver can play this lightly and give Tommy some solace. Tommy didn't mean to hurt him and even though it doesn't hurt, Oliver knows it should.

Leonov interrupts and Oliver welcomes the distraction. It's easy to tell Tommy it's some girl. No one has caught on to Oliver being different...except Ms. Smoak. He's been thinking about and her anger. She wasn't disappointed in him. She was angry. He's used to disappointment. It's the anger that surprises him. She cares.

"I checked out." It's not a question. He listens to the discussion. Floyd Lawton. Deadshot. Assassin. He knows what that is like. His job title was never assassin but torture? Abduction? He knows those words. He still breathes them. He offers Leonov no reassurances. He has no intention of using the Bratva for this but he'd rather keep them on their toes.

Tommy and Diggle are easy to ditch. Tommy is in the bathroom, Diggle chatting up his sister-in-law. He's blocks away before they notice.


Lawton's computer is damaged beyond his skill. He stares at the bullet-ridden screen willing it to connect to his own set-up. He knows enough about computers to get by but even this is beyond him. He pulls up the employee portal of QC and looks through it to find the name he wants.

Smoak. Comma. Felicity.

Her name whispers over him. Felicity. 19th floor. Office 25C. She warrants an office. Interesting.

He sees Diggle's glare over his disappearance the night before. He shrugs it off for the most part directing Diggle to QC. He doesn't have time to discuss where he was. Tommy most likely covered with the Russian model but he knows Diggle probably didn't buy it.

The elevator is empty and he finds himself smiling as he presses the number 19. She might not be happy to see him. Will she fluster in anger again? He becomes contemplative as he wonders why he cares. He doesn't have time for this. He doesn't have time to think about women. He needs to stop Deadshot before another person is killed. He just needs the target.

Her office is easy to find. It's the furthest one from the elevator. She's past all the large offices and when the hallway curves he realizes she probably has a small window if at all. She's important enough to get an office but she's not high-up in any hierarchy. Surprisingly enough it's not a private office. She has office mates but they're away and Oliver can't help but watch her. She's working hard, switching from the computer to a notepad. She's chewing on the end of her red pen as she thinks.

"Felicity Smoak." It's not a question. She's startled and turns to face him, shock all over her face. "Hi."

"Mr. Queen. I...what are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He can see it on her face. She doesn't want to have this conversation. It's a battle. Does she help the heir to QC or does she hold onto her anger?

"The bar is on the ground floor in the restaurant," she manages.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't have time to create a charity or build a playground. They needed to get the point."

"I don't like lies Mr. Queen. They're always hurtful no matter the intention." She sighs though and he can see her acceptance. "What can I do for you?"

"I need help with my computer and you were the first person I thought of."

"Lucky me," she mumbles. "Mr. Queen?"

"Mr. Queen was my father. I'd rather you call me Oliver."

"I'm not comfortable with that." She gestures for him to show her the computer or direct her to it. He tries to play it off with her but her eyes brook no argument. Computer or go. It takes one look at the computer and he can see her mind working. Bullet holes. He couldn't hide those.

"I was at my coffee shop and I spilled a latte on it." She smiles at that remembering their earlier conversation. Coffee is always getting spilled on computers in her line of work.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"These look like bullet holes."

"My coffee shop is in a really bad neighborhood." He can see the indecision on her face. He's lying to her and she hates lies. She taps her pen a few times and looks at the computer. It's a mystery and she must like those. "If there is anything that you can salvage from it, I'd really appreciate it."

"Uh huh." He watches as she hooks it up to her computer. At first it's all simple and he follows it easily enough. Sometime around the time he drags a chair over next to her, he realizes he's lost the flow. She's typing fast. She's hitting key combinations he's never seen. She's good at this.

He catches her smile in the middle of fiddling and he feels his own smile. He leans back and relaxes as she works. She's focused entirely on her project. It's solitude but it's not lonely. He can hear the noises around the office as others discuss weekend plans or talk about work. He lets the noise wash over him as her keystrokes lull him into a daydream. He hasn't had those in years and it takes him by surprise.

"I think I got it," she says finally. "They're blueprints."

"Of what?" He leaned forward and caught her questioning gaze. Right this was supposed to be his laptop.

"The exchange building," she frowned at his confused look. "It's where the auction is taking place for Unidac Industries."

"Never heard of it."

"Wait I thought this was your laptop."

"Yes." He knows another question is coming. Her red pen rolls onto the floor but neither move to get it.

"Look I don't want to get in the middle of some Shakespearean family drama thing," she finally says. At his confused look she continues, "Mr. Steele marrying your , Gertrude...Hamlet?!"

"I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools I dropped out of." She sighs but he gets the point. This is corporate espionage possibly and she's worried about herself.

"Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries and you have a company computer associated with one of the guys he's competing against."

"Floyd Lawton."

"No. Warren Patel." She gestures to the name in the corner and Oliver realizes he hasn't been paying attention. She's smart and she's not going to accept this. She's looking at him for an explanation and he doesn't have one. "Who's Floyd Lawton?"

"An employee of Mr. Patel evidently." She glances back at the computer but she's all he sees. He doesn't have time for this. The auction is in a few hours but he feels calmer than he has in days. He uses the time he has to study the blueprints. Felicity lets him, busying herself with a stack of requests. Her hair swishes across her back as she looks between her stacks and Oliver is distracted. It would be easy to pursue her. Well not easy because he doesn't think she's the type to fall into anyone's arms easily. He could let himself be distracted by her. Floyd Lawton is a problem and he's not sure of the target.

It is harder than he expects to get up and say goodbye to her. She watches him as he unplugs the computer and he struggles with words.

"Be careful with those lattes," she finally says when it is clear he's at a loss. "You might want to find a better coffee spot."

"Felicity."

"Mr. Queen."


He realized as he left QC he would need help. There was no way to guard all the possibilities alone. He wouldn't even be armed inside the building. He needed help and the police were his best bet. Detective Lance hated him but he was a good cop...an honest cop. He would do.

The auction is sedate. It would be. Oliver glances around the high windows, considering options. Lawton could attack from the East but the wind is against him. The West? His escape route would be hindered. The North? Depending on his target, it would be the most difficult shot. There were a lot of pillars in the way. The restless feeling rocketed through him and he spun around watching for anything out of the ordinary. Detective Lance had been barking orders for twenty minutes but no one had been sighted.

Patel was ushered out of the room quickly but Oliver's gaze was on anything else. Patel wasn't the issue. There were at least seven targets in the room alone and he wasn't aware if anyone else was bidding.

After speaking to Lance, Oliver still felt jittery. Lawton was going to make his move and he knew the police wouldn't be enough. Lawton was going to kill someone before he could react. He could only hope the person would survive.

"Dig. Got your eyes open?"

"That's what I'm here for sir. That and answering patronizing questions."

"This guy's out of time." Oliver can feel the anxiety building. Lawton could hit any of them. "If he's going to do something, it's going to happen before the auction."

"Sir?"

"I heard the story on the radio." Dig doesn't buy that explanation and for once Oliver doesn't care. He surprised himself by confiding in Diggle. He's alone in this. He needs to remember that.

Before he can even consider the implications of that discussion Walter is tugging him aside. Walter won't leave and sees no immediate threat. Moira and Thea are both attended and Moira wouldn't risk Thea if she was worried. The reveal is like a blow. Thea is there. Unprotected. Before he can calm himself he's motioning for Diggle. His family needs to be taken out of the room. They need to be safe so he can focus on Lawton.

The gunshot is shocking and Oliver grabs Thea. Diggle has Moira but Oliver's focus is on Diggle getting them to safety. He knows he'll make sure they're safe. The suit is where he left it. The shooter is still firing. The damage is being done and many of the bidders will be killed in that onslaught.

Lawton is good. He's one of the best Oliver has faced. He's military at the least with possible outside training. Lawton hits him where the bullet wound is still healing on his arm. The discussion turns quickly to assassination versus protecting the city. Right vs. Wrong. Innocence vs. guilt. He knows Deadshot is down. Like the shooter, he rarely misses.

Diggle groans and Oliver turns, realizing his bodyguard has been hit. He only has a matter of time. The antidote is at the safehouse and Diggle might have been shot multiple times. Oliver's own wound was his arm. He had an hour or so before the effects set in. Diggle's is closer to his heart. He has minutes. His body nearly gives out on the stairs. The antidote might be too late but Oliver can only hope he's' in time. He won't lose a soldier to his crusade. He has a choice. Reveal himself or let Diggle die. There is no choice.

He can see the confusion on Dig's face when he realizes what he's seeing. The vigilante without his hood is simply Oliver Queen.

"Hey."


Across town Felicity Smoak is arriving home from work. Her route home had been a mess because of the shooting at the Exchange Building. A normal thirty minute commute took nearly two hours and she was in no mood for anything but a Big Belly Burger.

She unlocks her door and sighs at the mess she'd left the night before. She slips her feet out of each shoe, enjoying the feel of flat ground beneath her. Her purse puddles to the floor and she finds she just couldn't care. Her coat joins the pile and she moves into the living room. She normally would sit down on the couch, flip on the TV and enjoy dinner but tonight she was a woman on a mission.

She sweeps past the mess and makes it to the closed door of what was supposed to be a guest room. She'd known the moment she saw the room it would never house anything close to a guest bed. Plus who was going to visit her. She never invited her mother and that was the only person she would imagine inviting. Her personal life was practically non-existent.

Her empty hand fell on the doorknob and she had a sudden thought of Oliver Queen in her living room. Mr. Queen. He had been at home there and while the surprise had been there, she'd been oddly comfortable with him there. It was dangerous thinking about him. He was a Queen and even if he was interested, it would only be brief. No matter how much he had changed, he was still Oliver Queen. It wouldn't do to have unrealistic expectations. She had a feeling it would be so easy to fall in love with him.

She shakes it off, opening the door and heading for her favorite chair in the whole apartment. She situates herself and dumps out her dinner on the top paper plate in the pile she keeps there for nights like these. Her computer hums to life and she quickly taps out the three things she wants to view, one on each screen.

The left screen shows her the Interpol report of Deadshot. She reads over the details, noticing he was now listed as Deceased. Her eyes slide to the right screen and she looks over the reports mentioning the vigilante, the arrows recovered at the scene by the police, and the casualty list. Finally the center screen. She watches what she expects to see and leans back.

There had been no latte. No coffee shop. There had only been Oliver Queen, Starling City's vigilante.

The computer screen shows what she expects but on some level she's still surprised. Mr. Queen is retrieving a duffel bag from a trash can. Sure we hasn't holding a bow and wearing a hood but it is enough.

"Gotcha Mr. Queen"


Thanks for reading!