A/N: I am super excited for this chapter. I am not only setting up a several chapter story arc, but also bringing in an actual Arrow villain...with a little bit of my own twist. I won't say who here, because it'll ruin the surprise, but I think Arrow comic fans will be pleasantly surprised!

Chapter Four

Oliver wasn't a jealous person. It was one of the things Laurel used to get upset about before the island. They'd be out and some guy would hit on her, and she'd immediately look for some reaction - some flare of indignation or at least a possessive hand on the curve of her back. Of course, he never did anything. Maybe it was because he was already cheating on her and the possessive tug of monogamy was absent, but it seemed to be something deeper. It was as if he hadn't been built with the jealous switch.

Which made his ill feelings toward Felicity's yoga guy all the more puzzling. Maybe it was just a variant of irritation – Lydia had talked about him so much that weekend that he'd begun to visibly flinch whenever the guy's name was mentioned. But a nagging voice told him it was more than that. What that meant, well, he didn't have a clue.

The uncertainty of it all set him in a bad mood as he walked to work that morning, his gait swift as he tried to walk off the uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He turned quickly at the corner and walked into a woman in front of the dojo. She had been putting up flyers, several of which flitted down the street from the force of his impact.

"I am so sorry," he said, crouching down and helping her pick up the few loose flyers that hadn't made their escape down the street.

"It's okay," she murmured. Their hands knocked together and she looked up, wide green eyes meeting his. She looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing.

"I should have been watching where I was going," Oliver said. He glanced down at one of the flyers in his hand; a shabby cat with overgrown whiskers gazed up at him.

"Is he yours?" Oliver asked.

"She," the girl corrected. "And yeah, she's mine. Or was. I don't know. I'm holding out hope, but I live by a pretty busy street."

He nodded. "Well, I'll hope for the best."

"Thanks."

He went to leave when she quickly asked, "Do you work here?"

She was pointing at the dojo and he nodded. "How did you –"

"Your sweatshirt," she said with a slight grin, and he glanced down, chuckling when he saw the branded sweatshirt. He'd forgotten he put it on that morning.

"Are you an instructor, then?" she asked, rocking a bit on her heels.

"Yeah, I just started actually."

"Well, then, I won't want to make you late," she said, clutching the flyers to her chest. "I'm Carrie, by the way." She shifted the flyers to one hand and held out the other. "It was nice knocking into you."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you too. And I'm Oliver. Oliver Queen."

Her eyes lit with recognition. "Have a nice day at work."

Oliver headed inside and walked to the back where employees kept their belongings. The beginners class he was observing started in about ten minutes, and by the time he got out, dressed in the proper gi, the small studio had filled. The instructor beckoned him over and explained that he and Oliver would be demonstrating a roundhouse kick.

Oliver set himself into position, back to the large window facing the street. He swore he could feel someone watching him, but when he glanced back the window was empty.

It had been three days since Felicity gave Mike her phone number, and they'd been texting furiously ever since. Felicity had never been a big texter, finding that phone calls better suited her proclivity for being rather verbose, but she enjoyed the texting with Mike. He was a witty texter, throwing in jokes and little asides at warp speed. He also texted in full sentences with proper punctuation – a big pluss for Felicity.

Lydia texted her nearly as much as Mike, asking if the date happened yet and how Oliver was handling it. She kept sending back that no, the date hadn't been set, and yes, Oliver was fine. That last part wasn't entirely truthful, but she didn't care to have the conversation that would follow if she chose the veracious path. Once Oliver found out that her constant texting buddy was ike, he looked like he bit into a lemon every time her phone buzzed. She was happy for the times he was at the dojo, because if she were being honest, his attitude was beginning to bother her.

After a marathon texting session of inside jokes and lazy humor, Felicity and Mike made plans for an actual date.

"Friday night at Capri," Felicity told Lydia.

"I love it already. Italian food is romantic as shit."

Felicity grinned. "It's weird. I'm actually excited."

"Why is it weird? You have a date. You should be excited."

"I know, it's just it's been a while since I've been excited, you know? It's nice."

"What are you wearing?"

Felicity laughed, loving how Lydia could go from somewhat serious conversation to clothes without even a hint of transition.

"I don't know yet."

"Don't wear pants – it gives off too much of a self-sufficient vibe. It'll knock the power balance way off. And no open-toed shoes, they make you look easy. And please, for the love of God, nothing with sequins."

"Why is that? The reflective surface suggests vanity?" Felicity teased.

"No. They're fucking ugly."

"I promise you I will not wear sequins."

"Good. Then this date has a fighting chance, provided your live-in doesn't do something stupid."

"He won't," Felicity said happily. "I purposely chose Friday because he's working late at the dojo."

"You really thought of everything," Lydia said appreciatively.

"I know."

"So, I expect a full recap the next morning. Provided you're not cooped up in yoga guy's bed. Then I will accept one in the afternoon."

"I'm not sleeping with him on the first date."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because…because I don't do that," Felicity sputtered, unable to come up with any better reason. But that was the truth. She didn't sleep with guys on the first date, just like how she avoided any talk of the "l" word until at least six months into a relationship. Early attachments didn't do anyone any good.

"Well, fine, but don't wait too log. Married life is borning, so I plan to live vicariously through you."

Felicity shook her head. "You do realize you're not getting a play-by-play, right?"

"Whatever you say," Lydia returned lightly. "Shit. Larry's home. I gotta go! Remember – no sequins!
"Okay, okay. I'll talk to you later."

Oliver was headed toward the bus when he spotted the woman that he'd knocked into in front of the dojo ambling down one of the many alleys that trickled off the main road. They were notoriously hot beds of crime, and sure enough he saw a large man with what looked like a knife walk out of the shadows and corner her. He was off in a second, bounding down the alley, but then he stopped, crouching behind a large trash bin.

The small mousy girl from before had twisted the guy's wrist with the knife in a manner that suggested practice, and a second later she landed a fist square in his nose. This was more than a few self defense classes, and Oliver watched curiously, prepared to jump in if needed, but also interested in seeing just how trained this seemingly average woman was.

The guy grunted as she spun into a perfect roundhouse kick, heel connecting soundly with his chest. He staggered backwards into the brick wall of a neighboring building, but she wasn't' done. She'd picked up a jagged piece of pipe and swung it at his jaw. Oliver could hear the bones crack even from his crouched position.

Fight over and won, Carrie continued down the alley, whistling some tune as she walked from her assailant's prone body.

Oliver went straight to the foundry. He'd called Digg and Felicity on his way and both were waiting for him. Felicity swiveled in her chair to face him as he described what happened.

"Maybe she's a wayward member of the League of Assassins?" Felicity offered. "I mean, she wouldn't be the first."

"I don't think so," Oliver said. "I have her name. Can you run some background checks?"

"Is that even a valid question?" she retorted, swiveling back toward her computer. She laced her fingers and stretched them in front of her, the joints cracking softly. "Name please."

"Carrie Cutter," he said, remembering the last name from the missing cat signs.

Felicity typed away furiously at her computer, easily pulling up a driver's license, which showed Carrie to hail from New Mexico.

"What's she doing here, then?" Digg mused.

"She served in the army," Felicity read aloud. "There's a tour in Afghanistan and then two more in Iraq."

"That would explain her fighting skills," Oliver said.

"Ah, and things are getting interesting," Felicity said, pulling up a story from one of the local papers detailing the mysterious disappearance of a Daniel Cutter. The article spoke of the rampant affair Daniel had been wrapped up in before his disappearance. "There's definitely the suggestion of foul play. It says that the affair started when Carrie was overseas. She came back and he had moved out of the house."

"Look into her military files," he said. "There was something off about her. I can't put my finger on what it was but…something was definitely off."

"Okay," Felicity said, drawing out the word. "This will just…" she typed quickly, biting her bottom lip, "…take me a few – and we're in!"

There, on the screen, was the entirety of Carrie Cutter's military career. It described in detail the rising star of a special op-soldier – one praised by peers and superiors alike – and then the meteoric fall as the strain of operations eroded both her mental and physical health.

The last few files were sealed, but after a few clever key strokes Felicity was able to sneak in.

"She underwent experiments through something called Cobalt," Felicity read. Not having the slightest clue what that meant, she turned to Oliver and Digg. "Ring any bells?"

"I've heard of it," Digg said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, we all did. But we thought it was an urban legend."

"What is it?" Oliver asked.

"From what I heard, the Cobalt experiments were designed to craft the perfect soldiers. It increased stamina and endurance while eradicating fear entirely. The end goal was physically exceptional soldiers without fear or apprehension. There were side effects, though – mostly mental. Love, lust, and greed were magnified to the extent that they overrode all semblance of reason. In the worst cases, soldiers went insane. But again, these were all rumors. We always thought they were stories to make sure we didn't mess up on operations. It was like – do your job well otherwise they'll send you to Cobalt."

"It says here that she became mentally imbalanced after the experiments," Felicity said, reading further into the file. "There's mention of admitting her to a psychiatric hospital, but that's it."

"It was probably a military hospital," Digg said.

"Do we think she escaped from there?" Oliver asked.

"Maybe," Digg said, shrugging. "Either way, she's dangerous. I'd be careful around her, Oliver."

"So, what are we going to do?" Felicity asked.

"Nothing," Oliver said simply. "I mean, it's not like she's hurt anyone."

"What about her husband?"

"We don't know that she had anything to do with that," he said. "I think for now we should just keep any eye out for anything unusual."

Carrie Cutter sat in her car outside of Verdant, calmly staring at the back entrance as she waited for Oliver Queen to emerge. She knew he was in there, because she'd followed him to the club and watched him walk in through the back. She liked that he had some business at the club along with his job at the dojo. It showed he was industrious. He was keeping busy, unlike her ass hole ex-husband who apparently spent all his free time when she was in Iraq screwing one of his grad students. That's what happened when men weren't busy. They strayed.

But Oliver wouldn't do that. She could already tell that he was a man of honor, and since the moment she kneeled in front of her husband's dead body, his mouth open and pressed against the plastic bag she'd suffocated him with, she swore she would only love honorable men.

Oliver walked out of Verdant and she leaned forward slightly, lips parting as she watched him come to a halt and glance behind him. A blonde woman followed, perky blonde ponytail dancing between her shoulder blades. Oliver said something and the woman made a face, gesturing sharply with her hand and he laughed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. They headed off together, gait perfectly in synch.

Carrie narrowed her eyes. Well, this wouldn't do.

A/N: I know..it's a bit short. But I have some big Arrow-ey things planned for the next chapter! There will be injuries, swooning, and a REALLY pissed off Felicity. So, get excited!

Also, for those of you wondering who exactly the villain is - it's Cupid. I was reading up on classic Arrow villains and sort of fell in love with her character. I'm doing my own little twist on her for the purposes of this story (some stuff of her history just won't work here) but I hope you all still enjoy it!