He everyone! After something of a hiatus I'm back with a new chapter! Sorry for making you wait so long, life for me has been very busy. Working two jobs, rediscovering some other passions in life and I've met a very special person, so unfortunately I've not been able to work on any stories whatsoever.
To make up for this, enjoy 7000 words to close out the first episode
"I know this is our cover and all… but do I really have to be here?" Slade grumbled as the quartet descended the stairs – at the bottom of which were hundreds of upper-class partiers variously drinking, flirting and dancing to blaring music – a combination of everything Slade Wilson despised.
"Yup." Sara chirped beside him, entirely unfussed by her elegant glittered black dress.
"But I'm not even part of this mission-"
"Hey, you're the one who said it should be Sara and I, and besides you just seemed to love that suit so much last time, I figured you wouldn't want to miss another opportunity to wear it." Oliver smirked at the older man.
Slade paused for a moment to look down at the same damn grey suit he had worn to the meeting with Moira. He shook his head in disgust. "One day soon, I am going to kill you, kid…"
Oliver scoffed. "You say that every time, yet you never do…"
"Very, very soon…"
Their squabble was interrupted by the figure of Tommy Merlyn hastily bounding up the stairs to greet them.
"Hey hey everybody!" He yelled, while simultaneously gesturing for the DJ to cut the music and slapping Oliver on his back, "Man of the hour! Please, give this man a proper homecoming!"
The crowd cheered as one while 'We Are The Champions' boomed out of the loudspeakers. In a moment of insecurity, Oliver glanced back at the other three, unsure of what to do. On receiving a reassuring nod from Nyssa, he took a deep breath, set his jaw and made his way down the remaining stairs and up onto an elevated platform.
"Thank you very much everybody!" he greeted the partygoers, before accepting a shotglass from Tommy. The alcohol burned his throat as he downed it without hesitation.
"I missed Tequila!" he shouted, and with that the party was back on.
While the others resumed their festivities, Oliver was quick to rejoin his fellow assassins.
"I hope your aim is not compromised after that drink." Nyssa said neutrally – a tone Oliver recognised well. It was one of subtle amusement, tempered with a cautioned warning.
"I'll be fine." Oliver promised her, pulling out his phone. "We still have an hour-"
"An hour for what?" Tommy interrupted as he joined them, drink in hand.
"An hour to escape him." Sara covered light-heartedly, jerking her head towards one John Diggle, who stood off to the side, dutifully scanning for threats, though the scowl on his face betrayed his anger at Oliver that had seemingly not dissipated since picking the man up from the city.
"Ahh…" Tommy said, taking another sip from his glass. "Does he wipe for you too?" he joked to Oliver, before noticing Slade. "Hey, who's your friend?"
Not noticing Sara step back nervously, he moved towards the Australian, arm extended. "Tommy Merlyn. Billionaire, playboy, all round awesome guy."
Slade looked down at Tommy's hand, before flicking his eyes back up. He did not like what he saw. Instead of making a scene, he grabbed Tommy's hand in the firmest grip he could muster, and he saw the other man visibly wince.
"Slade Wilson. Bodyguard. Ex Special Forces. Trained demolition expert." He deadpanned, releasing Tommy's hand, but not before seeing him swallow thickly.
Fighting the urge not to cradle his hand, Tommy backed away from Slade. "I see… Nice to meet you…" he mumbled, before nodding at Oliver, "Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go get a drink… all the drinks…"
Watching as Tommy retreated hastily back into the crowd, Oliver flicked his eyes to the Australian, who stood with his arms crossed and a dismissive look on his face.
"What?" he shrugged.
Oliver just shook his head and turned to move away, eager to escape the heart of the party, only to freeze when he caught sight of the last person he expected to see here.
His sister – admittedly resplendent in a long sleeved blue dress – was stood off to the side with two other girls. One in particular looked to be attempting to pressure her into accepting a small plastic bag.
Not needing to be an assassin to work out what was in it, Oliver felt his entire body stiffen with anger and immediately began walking over. Sara made to go with him, onto to be held back by Nyssa. "This is between the two of them" She inferred.
Sara watched on as her partner approached the girls, his posture nothing short of predatory.
"Thea!" he called out, causing the girl in question to look up in shock, "What are you doing here?"
"Ollie!" his sister exclaimed, eyes wide, "Hi! I- I was just-"
"What's this?" Oliver interrupted, snatching the bag from her hand.
"No, Ollie, please, it's not what it-"
But it was too late. Oliver knew drugs when he saw them, and he could barely contain his rage at the sight of the pills.
Thea stopped pleading when she saw the look that came over her brother's face. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him look so utterly scary. His whole body was dead still, but his piercing blue eyes bore a hole right through her, and suddenly she was face to face not with her brother, but with the man who had survived five years on a deserted island.
It was when he turned his glare on the girls who had forced the drugs on her though that truly made her shiver. It was like the entire room dropped in temperature. The two girls had previously been trying to back away and disguise themselves in the crowd, but now they found themselves frozen.
"Hit the road." Oliver growled lowly. The cold fury of his voice brought goosebumps to Thea's skin. The two girls didn't need to be told twice, and rapidly headed for the exit, leaving Oliver alone with his sister.
"Thea." He said quietly, taking her arm and leading her away from the music. "Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."
"It's not, Ollie, I swear!" Thea shook her head vehemently. "They forced me to take it."
At her words, Oliver felt just a little of his anger bleed out. "You shouldn't even be here, you're seventeen." He told her.
Thea looked down guiltily, and seemed to physically deflate. "I know… I just…" she sighed, "I just knew you were going to be here… and after five years…" she trailed off as her shoulders started trembling.
"Well Thea, let this be a reminder of why you shouldn't be at these events." Oliver said coldly, not noticing his sisters emotional state, "These-" he held the bag up, "Are a one way ticket to an early grave."
Thea looked horrified.
"Now, let me call my bodyguard, and he will take you home." Oliver finished, spying an opportunity to remove both his sister and Diggle from the scene – two variables he did not like having to plan around.
He turned and threw the drugs into a nearby bin, and turned back around to face his sister, only to freeze.
Thea was gone.
…
Over at the bar, Tommy Merlyn helped himself to another glass of scotch, hoping it would distract him from his aching hand.
'Surly bastard…' he thought to himself, 'Who invited the fucking Terminator?'
Looking around the crowd, he couldn't see his best friend anywhere, nor any of the other three he had arrived with. Tommy frowned to himself. This was meant to be a night of fun and celebration, and a resumption of his and Oliver's gallivanting of old. Instead, Oliver had seemed a shade of his former self all night, and if Tommy didn't know better, he would think his friend didn't even want to be here.
Tommy looked down at the buzzing of his phone. Fishing the device out of his pocket, he read the message on the screen, and bowed his head.
'Sorry, its your scene, not mine' – Laurel
Tommy swore internally. This night had just gone from bad to worse.
Resigning himself to another one night stand – likely with that Twilight looking girl – he downed the rest of his drink, and promptly ordered another.
…
On the other side of the hall, another man was dissatisfied with the display on his phone.
It was past 10pm now, and still no money had been transferred.
Oliver Queen growled to himself as he put the phone away. He had given Hunt a chance, and the fool had not taken it. If anything though, Oliver was glad about that. After the events of the last few days with his mother, and now his sister, he was itching for a proper fight. He could feel his muscles twitching, his instincts pulsing.
He rejoined the others with a hard steel glint in his eyes.
"There you are, thought you'd got lost." Slade remarked, but Oliver ignored him.
"It's time. You remember the plan, yes?" He said simply, and the other three nodded in understanding. "Good."
"There is just one problem." Nyssa spoke, flicking her eyes subtly to the ever watchful Diggle.
"Leave him to us." Sara said, smirking at Oliver, taking him by the hand and leading him away from the party.
…
John Diggle hurried down the corridor he had just seen his client disappear down. After what had happened in the car earlier that day, he was not going to let Queen out of his sight, much less allow him another chance to give him the slip.
He rounded a corner, only to stop in his tracks at the sight in front of him.
Oliver and Sara were up against a fire exit, arms wrapped around each other, kissing passionately.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Diggle cleared his throat loudly, causing the two to jump apart.
"Oh my god!" "Dig!" They remarked simultaneously, both flushing red at the appearance of the bodyguard.
"Seriously?" Oliver exclaimed, rebuttoning his shirt while Sara smoothed down her dress. "Can't I have just a little privacy?"
"With all due respect, sir," Diggle replied, "After your actions earlier today, I can't take any chances. Your mother's instructions were very clear."
"Well… ignore them!" Oliver said loudly, playing the part of the drunken party boy from the tabloids, "Take the night off, grab a drink! You've earned it." Beside him, Sara giggled, and allowed herself to lean on his shoulder.
Diggle was unmoved. "I'm sorry sir, but that won't be happening. I'm sure there will be time for… that…" he gestured to the two of them, "…later. In the meantime, the party's this way…"
"Diggle, we were on an island for five years." Oliver pushed, enunciating his words slowly. "Five years, is a long time. Now, you can either stay here, do your job and watch us – which I wouldn't recommend – or, you can run along, and I'll see you in the morning. Deal?"
Diggle folded his arms and leaned against the wall. He'd seen this all before. "Go ahead." He challenged.
Oliver froze at the mans actions. Clearly he was more dedicated to his job than he first anticipated. He grit his teeth thinking of a way out without giving the man a clue at his potential.
Having called Oliver's bluff, Diggle allowed a small smile to form. It was then though, that he felt a sudden and firm pressure on either side of his neck, and then his world turned to black.
Oliver and Sara watched, stunned, as the bodyguard dropped from view, revealing in his place the disapproving form of Nyssa.
It was a classic League technique, grasping the pressure points of the carotid artery on the neck in just the right place for just the right amount of time halted blood supply to the brain, starving it of oxygen for enough time to induce instant unconsciousness, but not long enough to risk brain damage. Perfect for situations like this.
"Must I always… how do you American's say… 'cover your ass'?" she smirked at the two of them. "Now go, time is of the essence!"
Oliver and Sara didn't need to be told twice.
They bolted up the stairs – being careful to avoid any security cameras – until they found themselves on the roof where they had hidden their gear. They wasted no time in carefully removing their fancy clothes, before laying them out strategically so they would be easy to change back into afterwards and adorned themselves in their League garbs.
Oliver shouldered his quiver while Sara slid her twin swords into their holsters on her back. Due to the nature of this particular mission, they'd decided to pack only their primary weapons. Too much equipment ran the risk of being detected.
Flicking his bow over in his hands, Oliver looked over at Sara. "You know your father will likely be over there." He said gently.
Sara didn't look at him. "I know." She growled.
"Just a reminder…" Oliver said quietly as he nocked a very specific arrow. He took a deep breath. "For Shado."
"For Robert." Sara echoed next to him.
The two locked eyes.
"For us."
…
Thirty floors above the ground, Adam Hunt paced nervously as around him, his newly employed private security force readied their weapons. There was no way he was just going to hand over the money, but at the same time, he just couldn't forget their threats echoing over and over in his head…
"Or we're going to take it, and you won't like how…"
Hunt jumped as he felt a tap on his shoulder. He span around only to see his new head of security, Drakon.
"It's past ten, they're never getting in here." The man informed him.
"Good." Hunt nodded. Seeing the sheer number of submachine guns in front of him certainly made him feel better. Skilled or not, there was no way a group of bow and sword wielding thugs could get past 950 rounds of ammunition per minute.
A quick glance at the clock showing fifteen minutes past the hour reassured him further. Obviously the so-called vigilantes had been bluffing. Hunt sat back down behind his desk, starting to feel much safer.
That was precisely when every light in the office went out at once.
Hunt, along with all of his men, instantly jumped to his feet.
"Get down!" Drakon hissed at him, prompting him to duck behind his desk while the burly man stood guard over him.
Out in the hallway, the other members of Hunt's security detail readied their weapons, levelling their MP7's on the elevator at the end. Being the only entrance to the office, the vigilantes would have no choice but to use it. They didn't know what they were walking into.
The men chocked their hammers as the elevator pinged, ready to fire the moment the doors opened-
They did.
Only nothing happened.
The doors slowly slid open, revealing nothing but an eerie white smoke, drifting lazily out into the hall. The men kept their guns trained, straining their eyes for the slightest movement.
Suddenly, from nowhere, an arrow shot out of the fog, so quickly that the man at the back had absolutely no time to react as the arrow slammed into his face, its deadly tip penetrating the bridge of his nose and driving itself into his brain, killing him instantly.
Convulsing violently, the man dropped the ground, while the others jammed down on their triggers, not caring that they couldn't see through the smoke.
A few seconds later, the guns clicked, empty of ammunition. Cautiously, the men edged forward, not thinking to reload. There was no way they could have missed.
It was then that they saw it.
A faint shadow, dropping down from the access hatch on top of the elevator like a wraith.
It would be the last thing they ever saw.
Sara burst forward out of the smoke, taking the men completely by surprise.
Their empty guns were useless as she twirled her joined swords ruthlessly, cutting the men down where they stood. She removed ones arm, before slicing his throat open with the other end of her weapon. Kicking behind her, she shattered another's knee, causing the man to fall to the ground screaming while the third fell courtesy of a brutal jab straight to his heart.
The last man – standing guard over the door to Hunt's office - was stunned at first by the speed and ferocity of the attack, but he quickly came to his senses as he hurriedly jammed another clip into his weapon, before levelling it at the blonde vigilante's head.
To his surprise, she just stood there, smirking.
The man never even saw the other figure emerge from the elevator, striding out of the smoke like some sort of verdant demon. Never saw him seamlessly draw an arrow. Never saw the projectile coming until it was imbedded in his heart.
…
Inside the office, Hunt heard the attack the moment it started, and had already pressed the panic button under his desk, alerting the police that he was under attack. Judging by the screams of his men stationed outside, they couldn't come soon enough.
Drakon meanwhile along with one other has his own MP7 trained on the door. He wouldn't make the same mistake.
Suddenly ,the glass shattered as someone smashed through the door, and Drakon jammed down on the trigger. The body jolted under dozens of high velocity bullets, showering the posh velour of the walls with blood. It was only when it dropped, virtually unrecognisable did he realise it was one of his own men.
He paid dearly for his distraction.
The next thing he knew, his compatriot was screaming as he was felled by the blonde woman with the swords, while his own weapon was shot out of his hand with pinpoint accuracy.
He looked up from his fallen gun in shock, spying the two vigilantes standing side by side as they stalked into the room. Snarling with rage, he drew his K-Bar knife and charged towards them.
…
Having taken care of the rest of Hunt's security, Oliver deftly sidestepped the attacking man, leaving him for Sara to take.
The sounds of clashing blades echoed in his ear as he moved towards Hunts desk.
Spying the millionaire hiding underneath it, he growled in anger as he reached under and yanked the man out, not unlike the way Slade had done in the carpark. Unseen by the man, he also jammed a tiny flechette into Hunt's desk, burying it deep inside the wood until it was out of sight. It would not do to have the police find it.
Hunt screamed in terror as he found himself on the wrong end of a green tipped arrow for the second time in as many nights. Looking over the man's shoulder, he saw Drakon yell in pain was he was tripped over by the blonde woman. He was quickly silenced however when she mercilessly jammed her sword down, piercing his heart and ending his life.
Hunt swallowed. It was all he could do not to pass out as he felt the blood drain from his face.
"We told you you wouldn't like how we took it." The Archer growled lowly, his voice disguised by some sort of electronic modulator.
Hunt's eyes were drawn to the woman as she rejoined her partner. The tips of her swords were still red with a grizzly slick of blood. Hunt closed his eyes. He knew his life was over.
"SCPD, PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN!"
The call was music to Hunt's ears as the police charged into the room.
Oliver and Sara whipped around around simultaneously. Sara's eyes shot open when she saw her father train his pistol on her. Oliver growled, quelling his instincts to stand and fight. They had what they came for.
Instead, he threw Hunt effortlessly across the room, blocking the officers' line of sight as he and Sara sprinted across the room. He fired a final arrow at the glass, shattering it, before the two made the leap out into thin air, Sara grabbing his waist while he turned his bow around in his hands.
Meanwhile, Lance untangled himself from Hunt and raced over to the broken window, just in time to see the two vigilantes slide down a fixed wire, towards the very same building his daughter was currently inside.
"Tell me you saw that…" His partner, Hilton panted breathlessly as he joined him by the window's edge.
"Saw, yes. Believed, no." Lance said dryly. "Come on!"
…
Back at the convention centre, the party was still in full swing when suddenly the music was cut and the lights switched on in full.
Slade and Nyssa watched on as uniformed officers stormed the building.
"Search the premises, roof to basement, find them!" Sara's father ordered, before catching sight of the two.
"Miss Raatko, have you seen my daughter?" He asked quickly, ignoring Slade.
"I believe she went to freshen up." She said smoothly. It wasn't a total lie either, Sara was indeed 'freshening up'. "Is everything alright?"
"There was an attack across the road." Quentin told her seriously, and she gasped in feigned surprise.
"Attack, what attack?" Sara said, appearing seemingly from nowhere behind her father.
Quentin span around quickly to envelop his daughter in a hug, only for her to jump away, and he cursed himself for forgetting how she reacted to such things.
"S-sorry daddy…" she stumbled
"It's okay, baby girl, I forgot." Quentin told her as calmly as he could before squaring his shoulders. "Adam Hunt was just attacked, by the same people who rescued Oliver."
"Did someone say my name?" Oliver asked as he appeared on the scene, automatically standing by Sara's side. "Detective, is everything alright?"
Quentin took a moment to eye Oliver up and down, and to mask the scowl that wanted to form. "No, it's not." He told him, "Those same guys that saved you and Merlyn just killed eight people across the road."
Sara's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my god…" she whispered, falling into Oliver's side.
For his part, Oliver stumbled back half a pace, and plastered a look of shock on his face. "Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief.
The Detective nodded. "Last we saw them, they ziplined down here onto the roof."
"Well is there any way I can help?" Oliver asked, "Maybe I can offer a reward or-"
"Just stay away from this, Queen." Lance interrupted firmly. "I already thought I lost my daughter once, I'm not going to lose her to some murderous nutjobs, am I clear?"
Oliver looked the man in his eye. He could see the anger and the resentment the man held for him for what he had done in the past, but he also saw something else, a desperate plea to keep Sara safe. That, he could respect.
He nodded. "Absolutely."
Lance seemed surprised at first at Oliver's apparent maturity, before he snapped back into Detective mode. "Good. Now tell your rich friends to clear out of here, we have work to do, and Sara?"
At the mention of her name, Sara looked up at her father.
"You stay safe alright baby." He told her quietly.
She nodded softly as her father walked away and began barking orders at his officers.
"You know it's some coincidence, right." Tommy said as he walked over somewhat drunkenly, "You asking to have your party here, and then Hunt gets robbed next door by the same people that saved us the other day."
Such was his inebriated state that he did not notice how Oliver's face changed. Flicking from somewhat neutral indifference to a cold mask in an instant.
"If I were you, Tommy." He told his friend darkly. "I'd just be glad you're alive."
At Oliver's words, Tommy lowered his drink as the same fear of Oliver he'd felt during their talk about Thea returned.
"What happened to you three on that island?" he asked shakily
Neither Oliver, nor Sara answered. Instead, it was Nyssa who spoke up. "A lot, Mr Merlyn. A lot."
Their work done for the night and their mission accomplished, the three turned away and headed for the exit, leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts. Slade joined them a moment later.
"So it was a success?" He asked.
"It was." Oliver nodded coldly. "The transmitter is in place, the transactions should be complete tomorrow."
"Good." Slade said simply. "So what now, back to base?"
Oliver was about to answer, when suddenly he stopped. "You three go ahead." He told them, remembering something. "My work isn't finished for the night."
Although concerned, all three knew from his tone not to question him, so instead they nodded their agreeance and, with a parting kiss on his cheek from Sara, they went their separate ways.
…
Thea Queen wandered aimlessly through the streets of Starling City, lost in her own thoughts.
She knew she should have called a cab to take her home, or better still, one of her family's personal butlers, but she hadn't, and now she was starting to regret it. In fact, she was regretting every decision she had made that night.
She hadn't wanted to go out. Socialising wasn't something she had done in years, except at family functions and even then only under the urging of her mother. It was the simple fact that her brother was back, and she wanted to be around him as much as possible and, if she was honest, she wanted to show him that she was grown up too.
She hadn't wanted the drugs. Instead they had been forced on her by some girls she had used to know from school, telling her she needed to lighten up. She'd taken them only to get the girls to leave her alone, fully intent on throwing them away as soon as possible, but instead her brother – the whole reason she was there in the first place – had caught her, and told her off.
She felt hurt and betrayed. The worst thing was that he hadn't listened to her or even attempted to understand. She felt discarded. By the person she cared the most about.
All too familiar thoughts of self hatred welled up within her, quickly overwhelming her. So lost in her thoughts was she that she didn't even realise she was being followed.
The group watched her closely, eyeing their prize. It wasn't often that women ventured alone into this part of the city, let alone ones as young and good looking as this one. Oh how they would have some fun with her.
They waited, following from a distance, letting her isolate herself more and more, until she was far enough away from any potential witnesses. And then they struck.
Thea was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed someone in front of her. Instinctually crossing her arms in front of her body, she made to walk around the man, only for him to suddenly turn and grab her, quickly shoving his hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.
Thea fought and struggled, kicking wildly, but it was of no use as the man easily hefted her feather-light weight and shoved her hard up against a brick wall, hidden in shadow. It was then that she realised he wasn't alone.
There were three of them. All large. All terrifying. All positively drooling over her.
"Please…" she whimpered, "Just let me go. I- I have money-"
The leader smiled, revealing hideous crooked yellow teeth. His breath reeked of alcohol. "We don't want your money girly." He said lasciviously, and Thea's terror became extreme when he reached under her dress.
Suddenly though, he jolted, and Thea felt a warm liquid spray over her face. The man gasped, and she cracked one of her eyes open only to scream.
The man's left eye was gone. Completely missing, and in its place was a green tipped arrow.
Jerking spasmodically as life left him, the man holding her collapsed, while the other two shouted out in rage and began looking from side to side. It was then that Thea saw the shadow, and the remaining rapists found themselves under attack not from the side, but from above.
She saw a figure dressed in black leap from the roof above her, and then the real horror began.
It had not taken long for Oliver to find his sister. The tiny tracking beacon he had placed on her at the party took care of that. Instead of heading home like he had told her, she had instead wandered into the heart of the Glades – not a place for a someone like her. He'd wasted no time in tracking her, and what he saw when he found her filled him with rage.
His League training did nothing to quell the pure fury that filled him when he saw the men about to defile his sister. Taking action immediately and firing an arrow straight into the brain of the leader, he then drew the sword next to his quiver and leapt down, unleashing his revenge in brutal fashion
He landed on top of one of the men, cushioning his fall before swiping his sword across the other's groin. The thug screamed hideously as his manhood was removed with a single swipe, before being silenced as Oliver jammed his sword through his throat, leaving him to suffocate on his own blood.
He let out an animalistic snarl as he set his sights on the man still pinned beneath him. He stomped on his throat, crushing his larynx, before drawing a final arrow and firing it directly into his heart, killing him instantly.
Breathing heavily, not out of exertion but from sheer anger, he stood and turned towards Thea, who was cowering on the ground beside the wall, curled up in a ball in a meek attempt at protecting herself and whimpering in fear.
Oliver felt his heart shatter.
She jumped when he put his hand on her shoulder. "No.. please…" she whispered, her eyes tightly shut.
"It's okay, Miss Queen." Oliver said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "They're not going to hurt you. You're safe."
Slowly, Thea opened her eyes, and flinched at the dark hooded figure in front of her, however something in the tone of his voice made her feel safe, like she could trust him. She looked behind him, at the bodies strewn across the ground. She ran her eyes from from their feet, to their legs, to their torso's-
"No, don't look at them." Oliver said, gently moving her head away from the mutilated corpses. "They got what they deserved, that's all you need to know."
Thea looked at him, her mascara was running wildly and she looked utterly terrified. Even though he was behind his hood and mask, Oliver couldn't help but feel exposed. "Thank you…" she whispered.
"Go home, Miss Queen." He said quietly, but firmly, "These streets are not to be wandered alone."
"But what if more come?" she asked desperately.
Oliver thought for a moment, before reaching down and pulling something from his utility belt. It was a five sided shuriken, black as midnight and deathly sharp.
"Use that." He said bluntly, tossing it to her. It landed at her feet with a metallic 'clink'
Thea looked down to examine the wicked looking star shaped weapon. Picking it up, she looked up to thank her saviour, only for her words to die in his throat.
The hooded man was gone.
…
Later that night, the four assassins were gathered around the screen of one of the computers in their lair, watching as forty million dollars was transferred from the account of one Adam Hunt, split and reimbursed into the accounts he had previously swindled from – all courtesy of the tiny transmitter Oliver had hidden in the mans desk earlier.
He felt his mouth twitch into a slight, emotionless smile as, one by one, the transfers were completed.
"Good work tonight you two." Nyssa said, putting an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them close.
"There's many more names on the list." Oliver said blankly, still distracted by what had happened to his sister.
"The journey of a thousand miles, begin with a single step." Nyssa quoted, as she grabbed something from Oliver's crate. A small, weatherbeaten notebook.
"Laozi…" Oliver murmured, remembering the last time he had heard those words.
"I thought it was Confucious?" Slade said knowingly.
"Shut up." Oliver growled at him as he took the notebook from Nyssa.
Flicking through the pages, he found the name 'Adam Hunt', and drew a line through it.
Closing the notebook, he turned and looked at the other three.
"Every last one of them will wish we had died on that island."
…
To say it was a relief to see the plane had been an understatement.
The journey had been long, and torturously silent. Oliver, Sara and Slade had kept to themselves, the events of the Amazo playing over and over in their heads.
The group – together, yet distinctly separate – stumbled mindlessly towards the plane and collapsed inside it.
Sara passed out almost instantly, utterly exhausted from her ordeal. Oliver sat next to her, running his fingers through her tangled blonde hair. His body burnt with pain and ached for rest, but he refused to let his eyes close.
For as long as it took, he would stay awake and guard the woman beside him.
His reason for doing so walked back in, a bundle of wood held in his heavily muscled arms. Oliver watched as he silently built a frame of kindling and lit a fire with that same damn lighter. It had been something of a ritual between them, but the way the man went about it was almost mechanical.
Oliver watched his face closely as it slowly illuminated in the orange light. The madness was gone, replaced by a gaunt, haunted look as the Australian stared deeply into the flames. Oliver wanted to trust him – he had saved his life after all – but after everything that had happened, he simply couldn't.
So there they stayed, looking into the flames, as if using them as an excuse the escape the horrors they had inflicted on each other.
"I'm sorry."
The words were so sudden, and so quiet that Oliver almost missed them. "What?" he spoke, his voice dry and raspy.
"I'm sorry kid, for everything." Slade repeated, raising his head and looking Oliver in the eye for the first time, and the younger man was stunned by what he saw. Grief. Pure, genuine grief flooded the man's features, twisting his usually stern expression into one of agony. In the year that he had known him, Oliver had never seen him look this way.
"Do you… do you remember anything?" he asked hesitantly.
Slade sniffed. "I remember everything…"
Oliver couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Only hours ago he was fearing for his life but now… now all he wanted to do was help his friend, his brother. When he saw the silent tears rolling down the Australian's face, he knew he had to do something.
He painfully got to his feet, and walked over to join Slade by the fire. It was too hot, and the floor hurt to sit on, but Oliver didn't care.
"Its okay, Slade." He began, not entirely sure what to say.
"No, it's not okay." Slade shook his head. "I tortured you kid, tried to kill you!" he clutched his head tightly as the memories ran through his mind. Each one worse than the last. The people he'd killed, the friends he'd hurt, and worst of all, the red haze of the so called 'miracle' hanging over everything.
"Slade, listen to me." Oliver said seriously, placing his hand on the man's shoulder, causing him to look up and meet his eye. "It was the mirakuru."
"No-"
"Yes it was." Oliver said firmly. "Because the Slade I know would not have done those things. The Slade I know is not a monster. The Slade I know wouldn't have tortured those people and tried to kill me." He paused. "The Slade I know saved my life."
Slade looked stunned by the sincerity of his words. Heart to heart talks weren't exactly something they engaged in. He wanted desperately to believe that what Oliver was saying was true, but he just couldn't get the image of his hands around the former billionaire's throat out of his head.
"You should have killed me…" he murmured, dropping his head once more.
"Do you know why I didn't?" Oliver asked.
He waited for Slade to lift his head before continuing. "Because I believed in you, the same way you believed in that stupid kid you trained. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for you. Sure you can be a grumpy bastard most of the time, but I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you.
I chose to save you because you are my friend, Slade. I'm not saying I forgive you, not yet. But I'm willing to work towards it if you are."
Oliver waited for Slade to respond, but got nothing.
"You said we were brothers." He said seriously, looking him dead in the eye. "I still believe that. Do you?"
"Kid, I-"
Slade's response was cut short, however, when the roof of the plane caved in, and in an ironic replay of their first encounter, Oliver and Slade found themselves face to face with someone they had never met before.
Someone with a bow and arrow in hand, and a seriously pissed off look on their face.
"Who the hell are you?" Oliver said rashly as he and Slade jumped up.
The woman flicked her eyes between the two. When she spoke, her voice was smooth as silk.
"I am Nyssa, daughter of Ra's Al Ghul, Heir to the Demon"
…
The moon shone brightly through the open curtains of the room, but they did little to lighten Thea Queen's mood.
She was still in shock from what had happened - and nearly happened – to her, she was tired and alone, her brother still hadn't returned.
She was outright desolate.
In her hands she still held the throwing star given to her by the vigilante. Absently, she twisted it over and over in her hand, before bringing it up in front of her face. Tears fell down her cheeks as her thoughts continued to control her actions
Screaming a silent scream, she tore off her expensive dress, leaving her arms bare.
She lowered the blade.
And ran its razor edge across her skin.
…
On the other side of town, hidden from the rest of the world, another man was sat at another computer.
On the screen were pictures of Oliver, Sara, Nyssa and Slade, however this man was not known to any of them.
He had spent two days cross referencing information, checking databases and hacking into a few illegal sites, trying to make some sort of connection, but so far his search had come up blank.
He growled in frustration and slammed his fist down on the ornate wooden bench, before resetting the system, adding in a new search criteria, and running the program again.
And this time the computer beeped.
The man instantly jumped to attention, hurriedly clicking through screens, eager to see what connection the computer had made.
His search led him to a classified Australian Government server, one that listed terminated ASIS missions.
Clicking the link, the man scanned through the report.
When he read the words Slade Wilson and Lian Yu he grinned.
Finally
He instantly reached for his phone, and dialled a pre-set number. It rang a few times before being answered.
"Mrs Queen, its Wolfman-"
That was all he said though, for it was at that moment that an arrow exploded out of his head, rendering him speechless.
The phone dropped from his hand as Marcus Wolfman – already dead – slumped over his desk, revealing his killers:
Two figures – one half the height of the other – adorned in white hoods
Wolfman's knowledge died with him, because the call was quickly disconnected, the file erased, and the office burned to the ground, leaving no trace of the hooded culprits
And so we come to the end of episode 1. These chapters are going into more details than I originally had planned, but I'm kind of liking it. It allows me to make more subtle changes. Of course, I'm not going to cover every single scene, only the ones that I feel matter, and as the story goes on and the plot diverges, expect these to be less frequent.
Hopefully this chapter answered some more questions regarding various characters. Like I said, virtually none of them are like they are in the show – Thea is a prime example in this chapter. On that note, the reason Oliver is so cold to her is because he has spent five years on an Island and in the League of Assassins. He doesn't know empathy outside of the four of them.
Hope you enjoyed it, please feel free to leave a review letting me know what you think, and who you think the white hooded figures are, and stay tuned for the next one.
