Oliver climbs. In the 23 minutes it took Diggle to gather gear and meet him he had already managed to eliminate three buildings from consideration. There had been five remaining and he'd been about to suggest splitting their attention when movement on a nearby roof caught his eye.
And once his eye was caught, a closer look was needed.
Diggle is scouting ground floor access while Oliver makes his way up the side of a nearby building. He uses the corner to shield him from sight but soon realises his caution was unnecessary.
From his current altitude he can see two guards stationed on the roof of the former home of Liberty Shipping, a art-deco logoed freight business long since forced out by larger meaner competitors. They're not manning posts, just wandering around the perimeter, chatting. But they're obviously armed and are dressed the same as Felicity's abductors. One even looks to have his ski mask tucked into the pocket of his jacket.
Oliver watches them as he searches for a convenient ledge, trying to get a sense of their intentions.
He doesn't look down. He'd never been overly fond of heights but he'd learned how to cope on the island. The trick is not to acknowledge that there was a height to fall from. But maintaining that kind of ignorance was a lot easier when there was only his life on the line. Swinging Felicity across an elevator shaft had been unnerving. Thinking what might happen to her if he fell from here and wasn't around to rescue her was the strongest fear he's felt since she told him the news that the East Side of the Glades had taken the most damage. The East Side. Where Laurel was. He'd felt his heart stop for a moment, his worst fears come to life.
And then it was Tommy's death that awaited him in the rubble of CNRI. He'd traded one loss for another.
He really hasn't felt much since.
Just grief and the strange compulsion to hold on to Felicity aside.
And that selfish desire led them here.
"Ground access is too secure," Diggle radios in, his frustration obvious. "Big gates, big doors, big locks - none of which are in a convenient enough location for what C4 we have. There's no way in without taking out a wall."
"Roof has two guards," Oliver replies, "but they're sloppy. Amateurs. They haven't locked down approaches or lines of sight. It's practically an engraved invitation."
He finds his balance on the ledge on which he stands and reaches for his quiver. "I'm going to take them out."
"Wait," Diggle says, suddenly. "Only two guards. Isn't this a little too good to be true?"
"I'll take luck when I find it," Oliver says, nocking an arrow.
"You said 'engraved invitation'," Diggle reminds him, "you don't send those out unless you're expecting company."
"Dig -"
"This smells like a trap," Diggle says, "take a breath and tell me you're not thinking the same thing."
"A trap for who? If they're after the Hood why take Felicity, if it's for me then the roof being vulnerable would hardly make a difference."
"Then they know."
Oliver closed his eyes, thinking. What Diggle was saying made sense. He'd had a harsh enough teacher drill those lessons into him. Never assume an enemy is stupid. Never take the obvious approach. Leaving a way in is the best way to know where the attack will come from.
"Let's say you're right," he says, lowering the bow. "What do we do?"
"This place used to be a warehouse, right?" Diggle says, "And it looks old, like 1920s old. I read somewhere about twenties freight companies using tunnels to smuggle liquor during prohibition."
"That's a hell of a stretch, Dig," Oliver pointed out. "You're reaching."
"Have you got fifty million dollars?"
"Not that I can access in the next six hours."
"Well then," Diggle says, "get your ass down here and help me find a way in that doesn't have 'It's a trap' written all over it."
"Acknowledged," Oliver replies.
He looks back at the guards on the roof. It took him 17 minutes to climb high enough to take out both easily. He'll give Diggle's idea an hour, then he'll be on his way in through the roof no matter how much like a trap it looks.
After all, sometimes the only way to deal with a trap is to spring it.
"What makes you so special?"
Felicity lifts her head. She can't really make out the features of the man standing nearby, but the dark hair and familiar calm voice suggest it's the Driver.
"Why do you care?"
"I don't."
"Then I've got no reason to answer you." Felicity leans her head back and closes her eyes. She's had the glasses off for too long and she can feel the headache she gets without them coming on. She'd like to rub the bridge of her nose, but her arms are tied down and somehow she doubts the men who want to blow her up in front of Oliver would let her have a hand free long enough to rub away some tension.
"What have you got to lose?"
"Are you kidding me?" She say, letting some of the frustration she feels enter her voice. "You have me tied to a chair on top of a big pile of dynamite and now you want to bond? Take a hike."
He laughs and it sounds real.
She turns her head towards him and squints trying to make out the details of his appearance.
"You're funny," he says, "is that why he likes you?"
"He doesn't like me," she sighs. "We don't have that kind of relationship."
"Like hell," the driver growls. His voice sounds different now, and he seems to realise it, because the next words he says are back in the accent of Blandville, population him. "I've been watching you. We've been watching you."
"So? I've already suffered through one stalker in the form of Petey the security guard. Who should I get the restraining order made out against this time?"
"No names," he says, but he sounds amused. "Did Oliver Queen deal with Petey for you?"
"I do not need Oliver Queen to help me get rid of an annoying pest like Petey."
"Really." The stark disbelief in his tone annoys her so much she decides to answer.
"If you must know," she says as regally as she can, "I hacked his computer and threatened to send the contents of his hard drive to the FBI if he didn't back off."
"And just what did Petey have on there that made him so scared."
"Nothing much, just more porn than any man should know what to deal with. And the sketchy malware that came with it."
"Must have been pretty dodgy porn if he was scared of the feds."
Felicity sighs.
"The malware was worse, really. And… maybe it wasn't the FBI so much as it was his mother. But she was a federal judge, and it worked. He left me alone."
The Driver laughs. Curiously it sounds both warm and bitter. She's never heard a laugh before that sounded quite like it. It doesn't sound like the laugh of a man about to kill her.
"Impressive," he says.
"Thanks." She considers, then thinks what the hell, might as well go for it. "Is it impressive enough to let me go?"
"No," he says, "but I have a better idea what makes you so special."
"Glad I could help." Sarcasm thy name is Felicity.
He chuckles and apparently wanders away. Either that or he has the ability to throw his voice. All things considered she thinks it's more likely to be the first one.
She sits there, waiting for the next thing to happen. Sometimes it seems like all she does is wait. It was one of the reasons she was proud that she had been able to deal with annoying Petey herself. He'd always been hanging around, and when he started crossing the line, breaking into her office to leave creepy little gifts, watching her all the time and trying to find out where she lived from the employee database, she'd gotten a bad vibe. Bad vibes being what they are, she hacked into his file and saw he had two citations on record for bothering young female employees. In the end she'd had no problem with sending a full report of Petey's actions (complete with webcam footage from the time he'd tried to break into her computer, which showed the level of stupidity she'd been dealing with. Her computer, really?) to a friend in the Queen Consolidated Security department. As promised she left his porn alone. His mother probably wouldn't have appreciated all the cosplay anyway.
But if Oliver had been in her life then would she have told him?
Probably not, she admits to herself. He would probably have broken Petey's fingers, when what he needed was a rap on the knuckles. And someone to take his internet rights away.
Sometimes Oliver went too far. Though she admitted internally that however he got her out of this, she wasn't going to quibble over the method. Anyway that didn't end with her exploding was fine by her.