A package labeled with her name appeared on her father's doorstep a week after she had been released from the hospital; four days after her trip into the Glades.

It had been pure, dumb luck that her father had been out of the apartment when the package arrived. She never told him about it; instead she kept it hidden in her room.

It was just one more secret to have.

She knew who it was from. The jagged scrawl of written lettering on the cardboard that looked like chicken scratch was all she needed to see to know that it was from Oliver. She could even see the little rips on the surface from where the ballpoint pen had torn through it.

Writing was difficult for a man whose hands were capable of bending steel.

"What did you send me?" Sara wondered to herself as she began to open the box. A few seconds later, her self-asked question was answered.

It was a cellphone.

Curious, Sara turned it on. She waited patiently for the device to power up and activate. Once the phone had loaded, a quick swipe to unlock the phone revealed that it had already been enabled and some of her basic information had already been placed on it.

There were only a few seconds for her to read over the information before she received a quiet beep that signaled a message notification.

The sender id flashed across the top of the screen; the message had been sent several days ago. The number that it had been sent by was unfamiliar to her, but it didn't really matter; Sara knew who it was from.

She tapped on the banner and looked at the message that contained only two words.

Adam Hunt.

"So, you're already going after someone on the List, aren't you, Oliver?" Sara muttered to herself as she googled the name with the phone. She recognized it from her countless readings of Oliver's hit list, but she didn't actually know anything about the man aside that he wasn't a good person.

A quick Google search soon gave her more information. Sara absorbed the information, making notes about how Hunt had been accused several times of various illegal activities, including stealing money from his customers through various loopholes in their contracts.

So many people had lost their life savings because of this man. Hunt benefited from their misfortune and lived a life of luxury while the people he stole from survived off scraps.

Adam Hunt was scum. It was no wonder that Robert Queen had written his name in the notebook. And now, Robert's son was going to ruin him. Or kill him. Whichever came first.

She was about to close out of the search browser when an article caught her eye. She clicked on it, rapidly reading the one page article.

There was a court case trying to be held by the District Attorney's office in hopes of finally pinning Hunt down with a series of embezzlement and fraud charges.

But that wasn't what caught Sara's attention.

What caught her attention was the name of the lawyer who was spearheading the case.

Dinah Laurel Lance.

Her older sister was going after Hunt?

Sara felt a strong surge of pride race through her at the thought. Laurel had always claimed that she wanted to become a lawyer to help people, rather than protect the corrupt, rich fatcats that tried to control the justice system. And now, here she was, doing what she had promised to do.

Laurel is trying to help people, just like me. She couldn't help but smile. Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world.

Her respect for her sister had certainly just gone up a couple notches.

Is that why Oliver chose to go after Adam Hunt of all people? Because of Laurel?

There was no denying that Hunt was dangerous, and her sister had surely shaken the hornet's nest by bringing up the case. From her research, this wasn't the first time lawyers had taken an interest in Hunt's criminal background; but the case had always been dropped. Some lawyers had even 'disappeared'.

If Hunt tried to do the same to her sister… Sara would destroy him before he even got close.

Her new phone buzzed again. This time, the message had just been sent.

I'm setting up.

She texted back a response.

Did you bring my munitions box?

She really did miss her weapons.

A response.

Yes.

She smiled. She sent a quick reply as she got off her bed.

On my way.

Sara hurried out of the door.


Oliver was hunched over a workbench, carefully arranging various materials that he used to craft arrowheads. He was halfway through notching a specialized arrow that served as a smoke bomb, being extra careful to not set it off with misuse of his enhanced strength. To his left was a discarded arrow, a failed attempt at a new arrowhead technique.

Besides him, dozens upon dozens of normal arrowheads rested against another table, honed so wickedly sharp that they gleamed in the light.

He had picked up many things throughout the years.

The Island. Hong Kong. Russia. Japan.

They were but a few of the places he had traveled to during his five years away.

He had learned so much in his travels. Had learned stealth and espionage, had spoken new tongues, had met masters of their craft who shared their teachings with him, had gained inner peace within himself, and learned to be ruthless.

It was this knowledge that he would use on his crusade. With this knowledge, came his strength, and soon, Starling City would bleed before it began to heal.

His weapons were spread out on tables. Neat and immaculate. They were the tools of destruction and vengeance, and he was their wielder.

A soldier ready to go to war.


Hours later, Oliver had finished his crafting and instead began to focus on his archery. Grabbing his bow and a quiver full of his normal arrowheads, Oliver turned on a tennis ball throwing machine that he had bought the other day, and waited for his targets.

He had set the dial to the maximum speed, with random intervals to remove prediction.

Pafft.

A ball shot out.

His eyes recognized the neon yellow blur, his instincts reacted even before his mind could register the thought. He released the bow string, and let the arrow fly.

It struck the tennis ball, pinning it to the wall. It hung there, half deflated, the arrow still trembling from the force.

He breathed in, knocked another arrow. He waited.

Pafft. Pafft.

Two blurs, rather than one.

He aimed, released, hand traveled to quiver, knocked, aimed, released.

The whole process barely took five seconds.

Sloppy. He thought, even though the two balls had joined their predecessor on the wall. A week and a half out of practice, and you're already slow. At his best, he could have done it in three seconds, despite the fact that hitting two small targets travelling at high speeds was in itself a true sign of his mastery.

Slade would have been laughing at him, had he been there. Slade always believed that Oliver, no matter how good his feat seemed, could improve. It was a trait that Oliver both loved and hated about his brother.

Pafft.

Aim, release.

Direct hit.

Pafft.

Aim, release.

Direct hit.

Oliver kept doing this, losing himself in the exercise, until the machine finally ran out of tennis balls. A quick glance at the wall revealed dozens of tennis balls with arrows embedded in them; he had missed none.

Suddenly, his ear twitched.

Oliver whirled around, just in time to see Sara Lance clambering down the rubble from across the hideout. He smiled, placed down his bow on a table, and headed over to her.

"Oliver!" Sara all but tackled him in her greeting, embracing him in a tight hug.

His heart feeling lighter for the first time in weeks, Oliver easily spun her around in a circle, ignoring her amused, half-hearted protests. When he finally did put her down, neither of them let go from their embrace.

"I missed you," Sara murmured in his ears, before pressing her forehead against his. For a moment, they just stared at one another with little smiles.

"I missed you too," he replied, leaning in for a kiss.

It was a soft kiss that wasn't fueled by passion or lust, but just as intimate. It was a kiss that came from their shared loneliness without the other. Oliver felt himself be lost as his senses were overwhelmed by Sara; kissing her again after weeks away was delightful.

He broke the kiss before it could go any deeper, because he knew that if he didn't than things would escalate from there and, while he would love nothing more than that, there was a reason he had called Sara here aside from wanting to see her.

"Welcome to the hideout," he said, spreading his arms out wide to gesture at the nearly completed lair. "Our home for all future operations, both solo and collaborative."

"It's very gloomy," Sara noted, sounding amused.

"I prefer to call it a dramatic atmosphere… anyway, I saved you some space," Oliver said, gesturing towards a half of the hideout that, while having a similar amount of work tables, was bare of any essentials. Sara's munitions chest was on one of the tables, and a few crates full of materials that Sara would use for crafting was also already there. Just one of the perks of having connections in shady American governments and the Russian bratva was gaining access to illegal materials.

Oliver sat down on a stool as his girlfriend headed to her munitions box. He heard the clicks of the combination lock opening, and watched her peruse the contents.

The first things that came out were Sara's beloved expandable kali sticks. He watched her go through a few basic moves, before she placed them on the table with the same care he did with his arrows.

Next, were Sara's unique choice of weaponry: her sonic devices.

"I hate those things." He commented, looking at the innocent little orbs with distaste. "They make my ears bleed."

"You have super hearing, Oliver. I've knocked you out with one of these before."

He winced at the memory. That particular event had ruptured his eardrums to the point that they had been shredded; it had taken a day for them to fully heal.

Sara pulled out a dozen or so throwing knives, laying them on their sides on a different table. "This will be my sharp objects table," she declared, running a finger down one of the knife's blade.

Oliver hummed. "You do love your sharp objects."

She shot him a grin before she went back to her task.

The next object was a military-grade handgun.

"Please tell me you have ammo in those crates?" Sara asked, inspecting the firearm for any sign of damage.

"Enough to arm an army," he assured her, pecking her on the cheek. She grinned at him as she pecked him on the lips in return. "Though I'd prefer if you waited on the gunfire."

"You're just mad because I'm a better shot than you with a firearm," Sara teased. Her smile widened when she saw Oliver's cheeks flush.

"I'm a better shot with the bow."

"That's because your main weapon is a bow, Oliver…"

"Still better at it than you."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Don't make your girlfriend angry when she is holding a dangerous firearm. That's basic advice from vigilante dating 101."

"Odd, I don't remember taking that class."

"Trust me, it is obviously apparent," she snipped back with a grin.

The two settled into a comfortable silence, with Oliver content to watch Sara inspect and organize her gear. Everything appeared to be functioning well, despite the boat trip.

"When are you going after Adam Hunt?" Sara asked as she looked up from counting her hollow-point bullets for the handgun.

"Soon. I'm going to see if scare tactics work; I want him to return the money he stole."

"And if he doesn't?"

Oliver simply smiled, "Then I'll make him do it."

Sara shared his smile; it would be a fun event to watch from the sidelines. "What about until you make a move on Hunt?"

He shrugged. "Probably just try and finish up this place, although most of the construction is already done. There really isn't too much to do."

"I'd beg to differ." Sara abandoned her weaponry and came close to the seated Oliver, a gleam in her eye.

His blood began to practically boil at that look in her eye. He knew that look very well. "Oh?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Mmmhmm," Sara hummed as she sat down in his lap, straddling him. "I can think of a few things to do."

Oliver's arms instinctively wrapped themselves around her waist, his hands already roaming. "I see."

Sara tucked her face in the crook of his neck, pecking him with soft kisses that sent jolts through his body, making his boiling blood practically sing.

"I can think of a few things too." He said with a throaty voice.

Sara just replied by kissing him.