"Friendship and Family"
Oliver Queen, the vigilante known as the Arrow, took off his hood and combat gloves and left them on the counter. He was in the Arrowcave, the hidden lair of Starling City's infamous hero. Things did not go as planned at the port.
He was still adjusting to the increasing independence of members of his team. Laurel, Roy and the rest had stepped up when the criminal Brick and his crew terrorized the Glades.
When the world thought I was dead, he thought. They took up my mission – and kept it alive when it would have been simpler to let it die.
Felicity Smoak, the team's de facto technical and operational support, could sense that Ollie had a rough night in the field. She knew there was still distance between them – and not only because Ollie was still adjusting to surviving his harrowing duel with the messianic warlord Ra's Al Ghul.
She was developing a relationship with Ray Palmer, the genius new CEO of Palmer Tech (successor to the former Queen Consolidated) – a relationship that further soured an already tense friendship. It took great effort for her to block out all the emotional refuse that had been welling up between them since his return.
She decided to revert to what she had called her "default setting": staying on task and being on top of the mission. Cool and professional.
Even though my heart is crumbling apart, one Lego brick at time, she mused. That is, if it were made of red Legos.
"The police radios said there was a huge firefight at the port," Felicity said. "This was our plan: to force Zakharov's hand, provoke a gangland feud and get the SCPD to apprehend them."
"It was," Ollie grunted. When he took off his tunic, a sliver of wood was embedded in his left shoulder. It was a minor injury but it was painful. Felicity immediately ran for the first aid kit. She carefully removed the fragment and disinfected the wound.
Ollie grimaced as Felicity cleansed the wound. "The port was full of Harleys. I didn't expect that all of SAMSTAR would be there, with guns blazing. I was sure that the Russians and the Yakuza were going to gut each other. The bikers stopped them for some reason."
Diggle, Ollie's trusted friend and team member, pulled up a satellite feed of the port on the widescreen computer monitor. "The Russians don't have cameras there for obvious reasons – so it's a good thing we have eyes in the sky of our own." The satellite images would take awhile to render.
"Igor Zakharov is a long-time player in the Glades' underworld," Ollie continued. "Everything illegal or black market passes under his nose at the port: guns, drugs, pirated goods, stolen merchandise …"
Zakharov controlled the port. The local SCPD precinct was allegedly on his payroll and he held influence with the port authority. Many criminal elements used the port and the Russian crew in the port found this to be a profitable relationship. It had always been this way, long before Ollie returned from the island.
Sorting out criminal allegiances could be a confusing exercise, so Ollie divided the criminal underworld in the Glades into two camps: the home team and the away team.
The "home" team included all the criminals that already existed in the Glades, some for decades. They were part of the Glades, built into the fabric of its society. This included the Russians, the Mafia, the old Chinatown triads, the local Sons of Anarchy MC and the scattered groups of small-time thieves and drug dealers who had preyed on the poor and disenfranchised. They were the old guard and his strategy here was always containment.
The "away" team included the new players that recently moved into Starling City. These included Los Diablos (a Mexican crew) and newer gangs from Vietnam, Japan and Shanghai. One group that worried Ollie was the influential Yamamoto family, a powerful Oregon-based Yakuza clan that had entered Starling City's drugs and prostitution trade about two months ago. Ollie hoped he could incite old rivalries with his attack, hoping that the Russians and the Japanese would turn their guns on each other. He was stunned that SAMSTAR had intervened to keep the peace, just when it appeared that a gangland confrontation was imminent.
"Outlaw bikers," Diggle said. "I think they don't like it when the status quo is disrupted. It hurts their bottom line."
"That's what I think," Ollie said. "They want the port to remain calm and quiet. Cops complicate the situation."
"Then maybe you might have achieved what you wanted," Felicity said. "The Glades cops are dirty – but it was Captain Lance's special anti-gang task force that arrived at the port. They're awaiting a warrant from the D.A.'s office to search the port lands. And before you ask, I heard the captain ask Laurel for one about 10 minutes ago on his phone."
"What the –" Diggle said.
"I know, I know." Felicity said. "Eavesdropping on people's smartphones isn't exactly legal, but –"
"No, I'm talking about this," Diggle interrupted, pointing at the computer screen.
Ollie studied the photos, still wincing because of his shoulder wound. "It's definitely the Sons of Anarchy. SAMSTAR's there. But look. See this group over there? Look at their cuts."
Diggle peered at the bikers' leather vests. "It says: CALIFORNIA." In another screen capture, the patches on the cuts said: REDWOOD ORIGINAL. "SAMSTAR's got some backup from the land of palm trees and movie stars?"
"Worse," Ollie said. "This is the mother charter of the entire MC. They're taking whatever is happening at the port seriously. It can't help that the anti-gang task force has been tightening the screws on SAMSTAR since the port murder."
Diggle scrolled through the high-resolution satellite images and stopped at one image. "No way. Did that patch just say 'V. PRESIDENT'?" During Ollie's absence, Laurel had provided the team with discreet intel about the major players in the Glades' underworld. Diggle and Felicity were still getting up to speed about the underworld's power brokers and the intricacies of criminal relationships.
"This isn't good," Ollie said. Over the past two years he had spent many hours, for weeks at a time, studying his enemies. It was a necessity in order to save his city. SAMSTAR was a mid-level criminal organization, but it was several rungs below the triads, the Mafia or the Russians in the pecking order. He always wondered how they managed to survive around much bigger players. Then it hit him.
SAMSTAR's bread and butter business was guns. It always was. Handguns, shotguns, rifles – in the Glades, the MC was the Costco of the criminal small arms trade. This was why the club survived. Ollie believed that the killing of a security guard at the port a few weeks ago, accidental or not, was a sign that something had changed. The gun trade had to be related to it.
Ollie played a satellite video feed of the Russian-Yakuza confrontation over and over again. The image of one blond-haired SAMCRO member, plunging himself in between an explosive gangland argument, was seared into his memory.
"This man," Ollie said solemnly, "is Jax Teller: Vice President of the Sons' mother charter, based in Charming. Now that he's here – nothing will happen with SAMSTAR or the port without his knowledge or approval. He'll be calling the shots in the MC as long as he's in town. We get him – we can scuttle whatever arrangement he's got going at the port. Cut the snake's head off before he strikes."
"Laurel's files say SAMCRO's hard to pin down," Diggle said. "They never rat on another member, never go down without a fight. I'd be fine if those outlaws and gangsters cancel themselves out. But is it about turf? Guns? Or something else? We need more info before we go to war with SAMCRO."
"Agreed," Felicity said. "SCPD's got a full-patch member in lockup: Mickey Halloran. He was there when the guard was killed. I'll see if we can get more info from our canary in the D.A.'s office."
In a few minutes, Ollie had changed into jeans, brown oxford shoes and a cable-knit long sleeve shirt. He looked more like Oliver Queen, the trust fund scion of the Queen family, than a vigilante.
"Wait, where are you going?" Diggle asked. "You just got back from the field …"
"Arsenal was following a lead on a heroin smuggling racket in the skid row district," Ollie said. "He knows the Glades better than anyone. I need to follow-up with him. He might know more about what SAMSTAR is up to."
Felicity beamed at the idea of Ollie referring to Roy by his official team codename. She wanted to believe that things could be same again within the team, even though there were times every member of the team had their own ideas on how to make things right again.
She did not want to admit that Oliver's "death" and absence had changed it forever. The team had to go on and function without him. His return only highlighted the fractures in the group that could become deeper fissures.
How could it not change them? Felicity thought
When Ollie left, Diggle turned to Felicity. "Speaking of M.I.A., where's Laurel? I haven't seen her since we tangled with the Los Diablos crew last week."
"I'm sure it's just work-related," Felicity said. "You know, the work that doesn't involve masks and bodysuits." She knew the Starling D.A.'s office was under intense pressure to arrest someone for the slaying at the port. That political heat landed at Laurel's desk. But knowing what she now knew about the Sons of Anarchy, Felicity sensed it wasn't going to be easy to make a long-serving, full-patch member like Halloran talk.
"The Reaper tells no secrets," Felicity said under her breath.
Tara Knowles, neonatal surgeon at St. Thomas Hospital in Charming, took off the white coat in her office and settled on the couch. It was a slow day at work, one of the rare ones she had. She had attended a morning meeting of the pediatric ward's doctors, had lunch with her boys and spent the afternoon checking on two patients she had operated on this week.
One, a two-year-old girl, had recovered from heart surgery two days ago and the prognosis was good. The other, a four-year-old boy who insisted on calling her Mommy during his visit, had suffered a fractured ulna during a freak boating accident and eerily reminded her of her own son. She was grateful that it would be left to other doctors to check on the boy after today.
It took every ounce of professionalism within her to not think about both Thomas and Abel. Having read John Teller's letters to Maureen Ashby – expressing his doubts about the club's criminal direction and his desire to get the MC out of guns for good – she couldn't help but think that these were timely warnings to her and that some higher power wanted her to read them.
I have to get out of this town, away from Gemma, away from Clay and from the MC. To protect Thomas and Abel, she would do whatever it takes.
There was a knock on the door. Margaret Murphy, the redheaded hospital administrator, peeked through the door.
"Are you busy? I could come back …"
"Oh not at all," Tara smiled. "Come in." Margaret, who Gemma derisively referred to as 'Red', had become one of her trusted confidants over the past three years and always had her interests at heart – both personally and professionally. She was also one of the strongest supporters of her decision to move her family out of Charming and away from its sordid criminal baggage.
"There are quite a few hospitals and HMO's ramping up their recruiting," Margaret suggested, "especially in the northwest."
"I know," Tara said. "Jane over in Oncology forwarded me last week's St. Thomas E-Bulletin. 'Opportunities that Count' or something like that."
Margaret smiled brightly. "I have to confess I put her up to it. Look, I know you're counting on Jax to help you make your exit from Charming … but he can't do much in terms of your professional needs. That's where I can help." She pulled out several glossy brochures and official-looking notices.
Tara skimmed through them. "Starling City Medical Professionals' Association, Glades Memorial, Starling General …" She looked puzzled. "Wouldn't I be jumping from the frying pan and into the fire here? Starling City is rife with crime. It's all over the news: the Undertaking, that conspiracy between Sebastian Blood and that masked mercenary Deathstroke, armies of prison escapees bent on chaos …"
"That may have been Starling's past," Margaret interjected, "but this is Starling's future. They are looking to rebuild. Every crisis leads to opportunity. The city's flowing with reconstruction funding. Both Starling General and Glades Memorial are practically begging for doctors, with the brain-drain that's been going on. Neonatal specialists would be in high demand. Did you know the city's crime rate has actually dropped over the past two and a half years? Murders and assaults have been down 30 percent since 2011. Condo construction has gone up 50 percent this year alone. They even have their own mysteriously masked vigilantes who patrol the city streets and keep the scumbags at bay!"
"Wow, you're really keen on this, aren't you?" Tara said, flipping through the brochures and flyers. "The local college has a renowned medical school too and tech guru Ray Palmer is donating millions to modernize the hospitals and expand the Glades children's hospital. I would be a fool not to at least consider it!"
"My thoughts exactly," Margaret said. "There will be a hiring fair in Starling this weekend. With Mr. Palmer's funding and your skills, you could help Starling's less fortunate and make a difference."
"Noted," Tara said, thrilled at the opportunities to pursue her profession elsewhere. "Is this your way of telling me to seize the day?"
The door opened suddenly. "Seize the day about what?" It was Gemma Teller-Morrow, the wife of SAMCRO president Clay Morrow. And Jax Teller's meddling mother.
"Polite people knock first, Gemma," Margaret said coolly. She was surprised she didn't hear Gemma's stiletto-heeled boots clicking and clacking down the hallway.
"I ain't talking to you Red," Gemma said. "Seize the day about what?" She glanced at the shiny brochures and flyers on Tara's lap. Before Tara could pack them away, Gemma picked up one of them.
Gemma read through one flyer. "Starling General: A Great Place to Work. Starling City: A Great Place to Live. As if. That place makes Charming look like a goddamned paradise! Mayors get killed every year in Starling. Even the cops are on the take."
"That's going to change," Margaret said. "There's an anti-gang task force cleaning up the city. And with the Arrow helping them –"
Gemma snorted. "Hah! The leather-clad Robin Hood wannabe? This ain't some Hollywood movie, sweetheart. What's a bow and arrow gonna do against hardened criminals with Glocks and .38's? Unless he's huntin' deer, the Arrow is less than useless when shit does happen."
She folded her arms across her chest with supreme confidence. "Trust me, Tara, you're safer in Charming. With a gun in your purse. Don't let this holier-than-thou ginger steer you into trouble."
"It's Tara's choice to make, Gemma," Margaret said. "And there's nothing you – or SAMCRO – can do to change that." She walked briskly out of the office.
"Tara –" Gemma began.
"She's right," Tara said impatiently. "It's on me to look out for my career and my sons. I need to weigh my options. It's what responsible mothers do, Gemma. Jax can't help me in this regard. I can't be the resident outlaw biker medic forever. Look, the boys are still at daycare. They must be hungry for dinner. Help me take them home?"
Tara had invoked the boys' welfare, which prompted Gemma to drop the issue. Family was everything. Tara's medical career was also important to her, despite the ever-present risk that it would lead her away from Charming.
And she'll take the boys away from me, she thought. It was a delicate issue between them and, for the moment, Jax was onside with Tara's career goals.
Gemma had come to the hospital to look for John's letters, which she suspected Tara must have kept in her office. Another problem for another time. What was important now was family.
With the boys in tow, Gemma and Tara exited the hospital. SAMCRO prospect Phil was waiting at the doors and drinking a can of soda, wistfully pining away for a pretty blonde nurse he had met in the hospital cafeteria a few days ago. Nothing came of it, but he hoped that one day he'd muster up enough courage to speak to her. The nurse was chatting away with a colleague in the parking lot.
"You don't want to go there, Phil," Gemma said, with Tara nearby. "Chicks in the medical profession are lifers. Career is everything to them. She'll break your heart – and uproot your family."
"Yes, ma'am … I mean, Gemma," Phil said. He looked like Gemma had poured acid on his dreams. Despite this, Jax had tasked him with keeping Tara safe. If he was ever going to make patch, he would do his duty to protect her and her sons. He swallowed his bruised pride, took Abel by the hand and led him to Gemma's SUV.
Tara lagged behind. She cradled her son Thomas closer in her arms, glaring angrily at Gemma. At this moment, she was determined to visit Starling City – for her career, for her family and for their future happiness.
And to hell with Gemma's petty antics and this small-minded town, she thought.
To be continued ...