I don't know much, but I know myself
Oliver watched Amanda Waller pacing, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. It had been a few minutes since he brought his situation to her attention. Beside him, Diggle was growing impatient. Oliver remained quiet and amiable, well aware that one wrong move would send Waller in the wrong direction; anything negative from them would result in negative from her.
Oliver took in Waller's office as he waited. It was pristine and in complete order. Everything had a place and nothing seemed unnecessary; no artwork hung on the walls and no photos rested on the desk. The walls and shelves were only decorated with medals and certificates from Waller's missions. Many of the medals weren't hers, but those of her fallen partners. These mementos gave Oliver a new understanding of Amanda Waller's abrasive demeanor. She's lost many people as well...
Finally, Waller cleared her throught and ceased her pacing. When she turned to look at Oliver and Diggle, they found her eyes filled with sympathy. "I feel for you, Oliver. I truly do," she began, her voice thick with emotion she was holding back. "I wish I could give you the help you need."
"You mean you can't help me at all?"
"I didn't say that, Oliver." For a few seconds, they stared at one another. Then she continued. "I can't send my teams against the League. I can't lose them. I can't send the Suicide Squad after them either. None of them would return, and villains like them are much too rare. They may be expendable, but I can't afford to hunt more of them down to replenish the team."
"Waller, we need something," Diggle shouted, his patience having run dry. Oliver held up a hand to silence his friend and was met with a whispered: "Oliver, this was a mistake."
"I understand that it is much too risky to send out your teams to help me rescue Felicity," Oliver began, his eyes resting on one medal in particular. It was paired with the only photograph in the room. A much younger Waller was standing next to a tall and handsome soldier. Both of them were in full uniform, but their smiles were bright and optimistic. The photo reminded him of the last year with Felicity. He sighed. "But I know you've lost many people as well. I know you've lost people close to you. Please, help me somehow. I'd be forever grateful."
Oliver and Amanda Waller locked eyes, and between them they exchanged their pain. It only took a few moments for Amanda to cave. "All right, Oliver," she said in a tone of surrender, something neither Oliver nor Diggle had ever heard from her. "All I'll promise is that we'll keep track of known assassins and keep a look out for new ones. It is likely they will use Felicity as a weapon, so it may be that she'll take on a few hits before going after you."
They thought sent a painful surge through Oliver. He closed his eyes to stifle the ache and saw Felicity's smiling face on the other side of his eyelids. If the League dug its teeth into Felicity, he'd lose everything he loved most about her: her innocence, charm and awkwardness. He opened his eyes and answered: "That's all I can hope for, Amanda. Thank you. Keep me updated, please."
Waller spoke no more, simply nodded and gestured for them to leave.
Felicity was curled into a ball, striving and failing to maintain any warmth she could against the cold floor. She was unsure how long she'd been left in the cell. Neither her nor Sara were sure of the date or even the hour; the darkness sucked out all knowledge of time.
She kept her eyes open. She feared the nightmares she'd see if she were to fall asleep. The nightmares never ceased. She was unsure how long it had been since she'd slept, but she knew she was heading into some strange of mental instability as a result. How long can the mind survive without sleep before it deteriorates? Felicity silently questioned, but those old facts and numbers eluded her. Fuck. I'm losing everything. Tears welled up in her eyes, burning. She shook her head quickly an blinked the moisture away. I will not sleep.
After days without food, water or sleep Felicity was beginning to lose her resolve. Sara repeatedly explained that this was one of the League's torture tactics. Get the prisoner as weak as possible before attempting conversion. As strong as Felicity often felt, she feared she'd lose her personal fight against the League.
Suddenly the silence was interrupted by one heavy pair of boots stopping in front of her door, followed by the clink of metal keys colliding against one another. Shouldn't assassins be more quiet?
The sound awakened Sara, and her voice rang out from next door. "Don't take her! Take me! End my misery!"
"Shut up, traitor. You'll have your turn. The Demon's Head has his own plans for you. Right now he has need of Miss Smoak."
"She's useless. What need could he have for her?"
"I said shut up. You are no longer Ta-er al-Asfer."
Sara grew quiet at the name, and Felicity knew that part of her identity had been stolen from her. She worried for Sara, but she knew that her first priority was fighting for herself. She stood ready for the door to open, her fists clenched into fists.
With a creak, the door opened to reveal an assassin in black garb holding a flaming torch. The sudden light blinded Felicity, but she quickly blinked the pain away and stood strong in the face of the man. He inched into the cell and grabbed for Felicity's arm. She dug into her memory for what little self-defense she had learned from Diggle and tried to evade the grasp by force. The assassin was well-trained and stopped Felicity with very little effort. He overcame her struggles and was soon leading her out of the cell and down a dank stone hallway lined with dozens of cells.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked after a few minutes.
"The Demon's Head."
It only took a few more minutes to come upon a set of giant wooden doors carved with terrifying scenes. Looks like it's straight out of Dante's Inferno...
The doors opened as if on their own and she was pushed into a great hall filled with roaring braziers. Tapestries covered the walls, depicting the same sort of scenes as the doors. Shadows filled each corner, dressed in dark robes and well-armed.
At the end of the room sat a commanding figure on a exquisite throne fashioned in the shape of a giant, howling demon. The figure tapped it's fingers impatiently, which signaled her captor to push her forward abruptly. The figure on the throne was dressed much the same as the other assassins, but his face was hidden by a deep hood. From the depths of the fabric, a coarse voice spoke.
"You are Felicity Smoak."
Without hesitation, she nodded.
"Soon you will not be."
Author's Note: I didn't expect to update twice within one 24 hour period, and certainly not so close together, but I felt the need to keep going. Getting you guys closer to the truth about Ra's al Ghul and Nyssa's disappearance is important to me. Please review and leave me any feedback you'd like. I'd love to know how you guys are feeling about this story. Thanks!
