When I was young I thought that money was the most important thing in life; now that I am old I know that it is.

- Oscar Wilde

His first week saw the formation of a daily routine, familiar to him from his time in various prisons and his months with A.R.G.U.S.

He woke, showered, dressed, ate. Spent some time working out (including an ill fated attempt on the salmon ladder that he gave up on less than halfway up) at lunch time either John or Roy would bring him lunch and a print out of the nights plans, background information on any current criminal activity, maps of starling city…. all printed, he still wasn't allowed any form of computer access, then there was a lull.

A daily period of boredom that allowed him too much time with his thoughts.

Thoughts of his brother, who he'd tried to save, who he'd loved, who had died by his own hand My first kill, the one I truly regret thoughts of his son, briefly, he couldn't bring himself to think of him for long, how he died, what his last few hours must have been like… too much…time spent thinking about his life, what he'd become. What did he want to be as a child? Had he ever had the freedom to dream? If he'd grown up with different parents, would he be normal? Or is killing just who I am?

The time inside his head was the worst part of his day.

Finally, one by one, the team trickled in, ready to suit up and head out. Sometimes he sparred with Oliver and Roy, never John, he'd offered to train with Felicity and Laurel once but had been met with a firm "no" from all parties.

He'd never seen Felicity don the Canary guise, though he knew she had. She offered every night and every night Oliver had a different excuse.

Protecting his girl. I can have fun with that

Laurel had been paired with him every night so far. That woman had some anger issues. She threw herself into fights, hard. She didn't let up, she didn't hold back. She was competent with the staff and hand to hand, didn't seem too fond of guns though.

Shame, she might have made a decent assassin

6 nights of this. 6 damn nights of 'Princess' and 'Darlin' and smirking. 6 nights of his faux gentleman schtick. Next time quirks that stupid eyebrow…. I'll ping his eyepatch right in his face.

Opening doors, half bows and blowing kisses as he laughs at her frustration. She'd never been so on edge in her life. The bad guys were taking one hell of a beating this week.

Mainly so I don't kill my 'partner'

She couldn't put her finger on what annoyed her so much. Something about his whole flirty bad boy persona. He was a trained killer, he enjoyed it. He killed Johns brother for crying out loud! He had no right to put on some harmless little bad boy act like the worst he was capable of was smoking on school property or knocking up the prom queen.

Sometimes, when they were alone together, she wondered how he got started.

Her work at CNRI put her in contact with a lot of victims, it also meant she got plenty of face time with the perpetrators. She'd met rapists who escalated to murder, gang bangers that had started in petty crimes and eventually worked up to killing rival gang members. Wife beaters who went too far, who 'only meant to scare her'. By and large the men started off with smaller crimes and escalated. Women bore the brunt. She'd seen a few women who had killed, defended them, actually. They snapped and killed their violent boyfriend, their husband when they realised he had been abusing their kids… it was retaliatory.

So based on her personal experience, the man she was currently stuck in a supply closet with (waiting on the elderly security guard completing his hourly sweep) was either a rapist, a gang banger or a violent misogynist.

Rapist to assassin wasn't a logical step, she just couldn't see it, he wasn't overly charming and polite (as the rich boys who date raped party girls tended to be), nor was he silent and predatory around her and Felicity. He was actually vaguely respectful underneath the sarcasm.

He was too anti social to have ever belonged to a gang and she'd already ruled out the abusive boyfriend angle.

She didn't want to consider it, didn't want to have his actions excused or rationalised, but his behaviour, his attitude towards training with Oliver and Roy, it was. defensive. The overt 'devil may care' antipathy, laughing off past kills, it reminded her of a client, Louisa, who had been passed on to CNRI. Louisa's boyfriend had been abusing her young daughter, and 'sharing' with his friends. She'd damn near gutted him, and then hunted down 3 of his friends over a 2 month period while her daughter was safe at her grandparents. When she'd finally been caught, she'd laughed, shown no remorse, stood righteous in the face of the death penalty. But the pain of her daughters experience, the guilt she felt at introducing her daughter to her abuser, of not noticing immediately… no amount of forced laughter could hide it.

It was that same shadow that descended on Lawton's face when he didn't think anyone was looking, and she wished like hell she'd never noticed it.

He shifted behind her, leaning forward to glance through the small vent in the supply closet door, she could feel his body heat on the small of her back, exposed by the cut of Sara's jacket.

His left hand landed on her hip as he turned his lips to her ear, voice barely audible

"Time to go, Princess"

I wish he wouldn't do that she thought as she tried and failed to repress a shiver. Cocky bastard

It had been Johns idea to start using him as more than just a gun hand, which is why they were now creeping around in the dark to upload a virus Felicity had written to the servers of a company whose CEO who had the dubious honour of being named in Robert Queen's notebook.

Pure corporate espionage, no violence required.

10 minutes later the virus had uploaded via a USB onto a desktop PC assigned to the CEOs assistant and they were headed back through the door they had snuck through thanks to the recently recovered Tockman device.

"You hungry?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said, are you hungry? I'm starved, wanna grab some take out?"

"Lawton, did you hit your head? You really think I can just waltz into Pizza Hut dressed like this?" she asked, gesturing to her wig and eye mask.

"You really think anyones gonna be looking above the neck when you're wearing that?" she'd barely opened her mouth to retaliate before he continued "Listen I'll go, here, you take my vest and this…" he pulled off his tactical vest and turned his head to swap his eye scope for his regular eye patch without her seeing "what you in the mood for?"

She was hungry….

"Fine, you like Sushi?"

"As long as it comes with crispy rice"

Laurel paused to look at him, startled. Statistically you had to have something in common.

He moved to the trunk of the car they were using, throwing in his vest and eye scope, Laurel stepped beside him, removing her wig and mask before locking the trunk.

"I'll drive"

"Whatever you want Princess"

My life has gotten incredibly weird.

If someone had told her a year ago she'd be eating sushi in a car with an international assassin after breaking into the head office of a fortune 500 company to upload a computer virus at 2 in the morning…

Actually a year ago I was so drunk I'd probably have believed them

"Last time I had Sushi was 3 years ago, Musashi in Kyoto."

Laurel shifted her attention to the passenger seat. Lawton hadn't looked up.

"Let me guess, you were hired to take out 'Hello, Kitty'?"

He snorted, something close to amusement was that a genuine laugh?

"No, that'd make the top 10 though"

"You have a top 10 assassinations list?"

"I could come up with one."

"You'd be able to list the people you're happiest about killing?" She was starting to go off her food…

"Nah, not the people. With a few exceptions, they were just names with dollar signs attached. It's the shots I'd rank. The really tricky ones, the ones that I really had to work at."

"Did you ever feel guilt?"

Lawton's face had become worryingly hard

"Not over anything I was paid for"

Cryptic much?

"What were the exceptions?"

"What?"

"You said there were exceptions? To just names with dollar signs?"

"We should get back."

Laurel pulled into the alley behind Verdant, cutting the engine and dragging herself from the front seat to walk Lawton to the Foundry door. Tiredness had set in as they had finished their sushi in tense silence, now she was exhausted and I have a whole 5 hours until I need to be in the office reviewing 3 case files… yawning, she entered the lock code on the door and held it open for him. He passed her, and just as she was about to let go of the door, he paused, looking down the stairs to the gloom of the basement he currently called home.

"The man…" he took a breath "The man who killed my son. He was an exception."

Laurel had frozen Son? He had a son? When did he die? How did he die? Was this his first kill?

"I do have a regret over that though."

He turned to look at her, his cold blue eye locked right on her.

"I wish I'd done it slower"