Chapter Ten: A Brutal Lesson

I will protect you.

Oliver lay on his side in one corner of the cage, staring intently at the photograph of Chloe that he clutched carefully in his hands. The edges of the picture were starting to show signs of wear, and there was a crease in one corner, all testaments to the frequency with which he had gazed on that image over the last few days. Somehow his need to look at her face seemed all the more urgent now, as Lex's chilling words echoed around his head. He'd lain there for what might have been hours, turning those barely veiled threats over and over again in his head. Had Lex been lying when he said he knew about every move the guys were making? Could he really take them out at will? And what about Chloe – what did Lex have in store for her? The more he thought about what might happen the more he was enveloped by a sense of encircling gloom, all pervasive and inescapable. If only Chloe wasn't so good at her job, then she'd be safe – but Oliver knew that the reporter in her would never let go, and that the more she dug deeper, the closer she would come to danger. The thought was unbearable – that Lex could take her, harm her, use her against him. Something within Oliver told him that something terrible lay ahead – he didn't know what, and he didn't know when it would happen. But as he looked down at that precious image, he was confident of one thing – whatever happened, he would sacrifice everything to protect the woman he loved more than anything else in the world.

The sound of the door to the chamber opening up in the distance at last brought his troubled stream of thoughts to an end. Swiftly he slipped the photograph inside his tunic, in an action he had performed so often it now came almost without the need for conscious thought. He reached down to pull up the zip on his jacket, when the unexpected disturbed his well-established routine. The zip was stuck! Panicking, he pulled at it hard, whilst keeping his back to the footsteps that were approaching rapidly. But the zip stubbornly refused to move upwards, remaining lodged firmly at the foot of his tunic. Oliver tried one last time to make it move, before giving up as he heard the footsteps behind him come to a halt at the door to the cage.

Oliver lay still as he heard the door to the cage swing open. He heard two sets of footsteps entering, their heaviness telling him that it was Carter and his associate. It could mean only one of two things – either he was to be fed, or he was to be returned to the tender mercies of Dr Thomas.

"Your banquet awaits, pretty boy." Carter's sneering voice answered the question.

Oliver did not move, his instincts telling him to stay still. Almost immediately he knew he'd made a mistake – ignoring Carter was a sure fire way of provoking him to anger.

"Turn around when I speak to you, you piece of shit!" Oliver's silence was then greeted with a kick to the base of his spine, causing him to convulse in agony. He twisted round on the floor, to come face to face with the scowling face of his attacker.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it, you hear? I'm not playing butler to some rich kid like you, Queen."

"Hey, you should think about it," gasped Oliver. "If the hired sadist angle doesn't work out, you'd look great in black serving a gin and tonic."

"Funny guy!" growled Carter, stamping down hard on Oliver's gut as he did so. "Now I've spent a lot of time preparing this, so do as you're told, and eat!"

Carter took a large plastic bowl from the other man and slammed it down next to Oliver, who was still doubled up in agony from Carter's attack. As his eyes began to focus he glanced down at the thin, greyish green liquid that lapped against the sides of the bowl, Lex's idea of prison food.

"Apologies to the chef, but I think I'll pass," he whispered, still trying to force air into his battered frame.

"Eat it!" The rage in Carter's voice was clear, his frustration at having no counter to Oliver's replies finally causing the man to snap. He leaned down and grabbed Oliver by the back of the head, slamming his face down into the bowl and sending splashes of the so-called meal in all directions.

"Not such a smart mouth now, are you, fancy boy," snarled Carter, pressing Oliver's face down into the liquid and watching as tiny bubbles floated to the surface around his head, a sign that the young man had exhaled. "When I tell you to do something, you do it – or next time I'll smash that face of yours to such a pulp that even your mom wouldn't recognise you." He continued to hold Oliver's head down into the liquid for a moment or two more, enjoying a sense of power as he felt his prisoner begin to panic and struggle in his grasp. At last he released his grip, and Oliver tumbled to one side, his chest heaving as he attempted to force air into his lungs.

Carter towered over Oliver, his anger giving way to pleasure as he looked down at his helpless prey.

"Look at you, Queen – not such a tough guy now, eh?" And with that he spat at Oliver, a grotesque gobbet of mucous falling cruelly on Oliver's right shoulder. It was a simple act, a casual signal of contempt by a sadistic thug, but for Oliver it seemed somehow worse than all the tortures that he had endured to this point. The shame that he felt as he looked up at his captor, the corners of whose mouth were twisting to form a contemptuous sneer, was almost overwhelming; that he should be reduced to this, a prisoner treated worse than a dog, filled him at that moment with such a sense of hopelessness and despair that it was as if all the humiliations and tortures of the last few days had finally conspired to overpower him.

Carter looked down at Oliver's helpless form, enjoying his latest petty triumph over the fallen hero. Queen might have had the benefit of the expensive education, he might have the power of words, but here he was the master, and he was determined to make Oliver bow to his will, to play his part in the breaking of this so-called hero. His eyes scanned across Oliver's exposed chest, still heaving after the most recent attack; the man was undoubtedly strong, with finely toned muscles the product of months, maybe years, of training. He looked the part, Carter had to acknowledge that, but that made the prospect of taking him apart all the more mouth watering. Lex, Akunin, Thomas, they all knew how to hurt a man, but here, now, Carter was in charge, and in his mind the time had come to show Oliver Queen who was really in control.

Carter's eyes wandered briefly to Oliver's tunic, the sides of the jacket having fallen open to reveal the lining as Oliver lay prostrate on the ground. He caught a glimpse of something white, a straight edge highlighted against the darkness of the material.

The photograph.

"Well now, what's pretty boy been hiding away from us here, I wonder," he said, reaching down towards the edge of white that had caught his attention. Too late did Oliver realise what was about to happen; desperately he reached across to pull his tunic back across his body, only to be greeted with a punch to the face from a Carter whose curiosity was now well and truly aroused.

"Now, now, don't be shy, Queen. Surely you want to share with your friends now, don't you?" said Carter, pulling the photograph from Oliver's tunic as he did so. Oliver's stomach turned as he watched Carter turn the picture over so that he could look at it clearly; a sensation of almost physical sickness swept through him as he realised that in that tiny moment, his last physical link with the world he had left behind had been snatched from him.

Carter seemed to half whistle as he looked down at the picture. "Well now, isn't this a pretty picture! The perfect couple – and she is hot! Queen, who's the bitch? Some whore you picked up down town?"

Seeing Carter's grubby hands holding the picture, hearing him talk about Chloe as if she were some cheap one-night stand, caused something to snap inside Oliver. Summoning what strength he could, he lunged at Carter, his arm outstretched in a futile attempt to retrieve the photo that meant so much to him. Carter easily sidestepped Oliver's doomed attack, leaving the young man lying helplessly on the floor.

"Easy now, hero! I guess she's more to you than some cheap hooker, eh? And there was me thinking you only had eyes for the spandex kid, Curry. Why, he's nearly as pretty as you are!" Carter was clearly warming to the moment, realising that he'd found something unexpected, a vulnerability on the part of his captive that he could exploit.

"Give it back," asked Oliver quietly, his head tilted upwards in the direction of the man who now gloated over him.

"What was that?"

"Give it back!" This time Oliver's voice was louder, more demanding – more desperate.

"And what do we say?"

Oliver knew where this was leading. Carter wanted to extract as much humiliation from this moment as he could, but then he remembered the promise he made to himself, the line that he had drawn in the sand.

He would not beg – not now, not ever.

"Give it back, you son-of-a-bitch!" And with that Oliver pulled himself from the floor, before again making a sudden lunge at Carter, his eyes focused on the photograph. Carter was surprised by the speed of Oliver's movement, but again his reactions were too quick; he sidestepped Oliver's attack, before wheeling round and grabbing Oliver from behind. He then slammed the young man hard against the bars of the cage, the force of the impact causing Oliver to wince with pain.

"You want this back, Queen? You want this picture of your bitch back?" asked Carter breathlessly as he pinioned Oliver against the bars of his prison, twisting one of Oliver's arms into the small of his back so that he was unable to struggle free of the big man's grasp. With his other hand he held the picture a few inches from Oliver's face, which was squashed side-on against the cold metal of the bars.

"You sick bastard!" said Oliver breathlessly.

"How about a game, Queen? Would you like that? If you can take me down you get your precious picture back – if you don't, I get to teach you a lesson you'll never forget. What do you think? Have we got a deal?"

Oliver said nothing, his eyes transfixed by the image of Chloe's smiling face, just a few inches away.

I won't let you down, I promise you.

"I said, have we got a deal?" said Carter, twisting Oliver's arm so that the young man had to stifle the urge to cry out in pain.

"Go to hell!"

"You're not getting this, are you Queen? You either play my game, or I beat the crap out of you anyway. So what's it to be?"

Oliver did not reply, but within a second or two he felt Carter's grip release. For a moment he stood against the bars of the cage, taking what chance he could to recover for whatever lay in store for him.

"Okay, hero boy – let's see just how good you really are."

At the sound of Carter's voice Oliver slowly turned, to find Carter standing in the center of the cage. He'd taken off his jacket, which now lay on the floor near the door. Standing there was Carter's fellow goon, Stevens, clearly looking forward to the entertainment that was about to unfold.

Carter's eyes flamed with excitement. It was obvious that he was looking forward to the fight that he had engineered, a fight he expected to win. Carter was right to feel confident; Oliver was exhausted after his sessions with Thomas, and, where once he would have expected to take down a goon like Carter in three or four swift moves, now he was facing a situation where all the cards were stacked against him. He knew that he could not hope to move as quickly as he normally would, and that his reaction times were slower. His only hope was to take Carter out using the element of surprise, but then what? Stevens stood close by, and whatever the outcome of the fight, escape was impossible. He was trapped – and there was no way out.

For a few moments the two men stood, eying each other up in the silence of the chamber. Carter appeared ready for Oliver to attack, but when at last it came its ferocity surprised everyone, not least the man who delivered it. Oliver took two steps towards Carter, two apparently cautious steps, before suddenly, summoning the last reserves of energy he had, he propelled himself into the air, pirouetting 360 degrees before delivering a kick of bone crunching power straight into the center of Carter's gut. The man was sent flying backwards, a look of shock and surprise on his face before he hit the bars with a force that seemed to reverberate around the entire cage.

Oliver had gained the advantage, but it had cost him dear. His muscles cried out in agony at the sudden exertion of attack, and, instead of capitalising on his early success, his exhausted body fell awkwardly to the ground. Instantly his mind told him to get up, but the few seconds delay were all that Carter needed. A strong man, he recovered quickly from Oliver's assault, and, as the young hero at last drew himself to his feet, Carter's fist made contact with his jaw. The blow was shattering, whipping Oliver's head back and sending his entire body flying through the air. He landed heavily, momentarily disorientated. Carter was unrelenting; he pursued his wounded prey across the cage, grabbing Oliver under the shoulders and hauling him to his feet before slamming him against the bars of the cage.

"That all you got, pretty boy? Is that all the tough guy Green Arrow's got?" Carter's voice was breathless as he held Oliver against the bars of the cage. Oliver's head was swimming, but he could sense Carter's exaltation at his all too quick victory. The inevitable had happened – now Oliver would have to face the consequences.

"Well see how you feel about this, Mr hot-shot hero." Carter started to pound Oliver in the gut with his fists, raining down blows on Oliver's already battered body with a relentlessness and a brutality that was almost bestial. Oliver could do nothing to protect himself from Carter's savagery; his body pinioned against the bars, he could do no more than endure the beating that his tormentor was determined to administer.

It seemed to go on forever, but at last Carter stopped, exhausted by the ferocity of his assault on the stricken hero. Oliver slowly slumped to the ground, unable to move but thankful that at last the worst seemed to be over, and that Carter seemed to have satisfied his lust for blood.

He was wrong.

Carter leaned down, grabbing Oliver by the hair and pulling his head from the floor.

"You had enough, pretty boy?"

Oliver said nothing, his head spinning as he struggled to stay conscious.

"I said, have you had enough?"

Again there was silence.

"You know something, I don't think Mr Queen has learnt his lesson, do you?"

Stevens shrugged in agreement.

"Guess we'll just have to string him up and show him what real torture is all about, shan't we?"

Before Oliver had time to register the full meaning of Carter's words, he found himself being dragged towards the center of the cage. As Carter pulled off Oliver's tunic the young hero could hear the sound of a motor, and as his eyes began to focus he could make out the chains that had been used to shackle him during his first night in the cage slowly descending towards him. He knew what was about to happen, but was too weak to offer any more than token resistance; the manacles were placed expertly around his wrists, and all too quickly he felt himself being drawn once more into the air.

He could only have been a few inches off the ground when the motor stopped and he came to a standstill, his battered body swaying uselessly in the air. It might only have been a few inches, but the effect was the same as if he had been suspended many feet from the floor, and his muscles screamed in agony at this latest test of their endurance. Oliver gasped in pain, his eyes eventually falling on his sadistic tormentor, who now stood before him.

"Not such a big hero now, are you Queen?" sneered Carter, who then looked across at his associate. "Go fetch the whip – it's time this boy learnt something about what torture really means."

Stevens left the cage and made his way towards the door to the chamber, leaving Carter staring up at his helpless prey.

"I'm sorry, Queen, but I'm gonna hurt you – hurt you like you've never been hurt before. And when I'm finished, well, let's just say you ain't gonna look so pretty anymore."

A chill ran down Oliver's spine as he saw the vicious glee with which Carter delivered his words of warning. He felt so powerless, so impotent – but he knew he had to try something.

"And what about Akunin and Lex? Last time I looked disobeying orders was not a fast track to promotion in LuthorCorp."

Carter reached up and grabbed Oliver's chin. "Sorry, pretty boy, but you're not going to sweet talk your way out of this. I'm going to make you scream like the bitch you are, and nothing you can say will change that."

Carter then paused, appearing to remember something, before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, the remains of that precious picture. He held it out once more, making a point of seeming to examine it closely.

"Talking of bitches, she sure is pretty, this girl of yours." Carter then put the picture under his nose, breathing in deeply. "Why, I can almost smell her! I bet she tastes good. Does she taste good, Mr hot-shot hero? Does she?" In a grand gesture, Carter then licked the photograph, much as a child would lick the chocolate from a cookie, seeming to savour every moment. He never took his eyes off Oliver, enjoying the mixture of disgust and despair that he saw in the young man's eyes. It was another petty triumph, but Carter knew that it hurt his captive as much as any physical punishment; it left Oliver degraded, cheapened – robbed of the one thing of beauty that had helped to sustain him.

"Mmmm, she tastes as sweet as candy," he gloated. "Do you want a taste, Queen? Do you want one last taste of your pretty little girlfriend?" He then held the picture up to Oliver's mouth. Oliver instinctively turned away, but Carter was not to be denied; a fresh humiliation had formed itself in his mind.

"Come on, Queen – taste her," he demanded, reaching up and grabbing him by the hair. Still Oliver would not comply, his mouth remaining clamped shut.

"I said – taste her!"

Suddenly Carter punched Oliver in the gut. The young man gasped in agony, providing Carter with the opportunity he needed; in a split second he had rammed the crumpled picture into Oliver's mouth. Oliver's gag reflex kicked in as the paper filled his mouth, reaching the back of his throat. He contracted the muscles in his windpipe in an effort to expel the picture, but again Carter was too quick for him; suddenly Oliver felt a large hand grab his jaw, slamming it firmly shut.

"There now, Queen, I told you she tasted good, didn't I?" leered Carter, watching as Oliver struggled to avoid choking on the paper that now filled his mouth. "Now eat it – or I might just find my way round to your girl's house, and taste her in the flesh!"

Carter now took his free hand and pinched Oliver's nose, whilst maintaining his firm grip over Oliver's mouth. The intention was clear – to force Oliver to swallow. Oliver struggled desperately, but Carter's grip was vice-like; he could feel his lungs tightening and his throat contracting as the seconds ticked away, all the time Carter's eyes flashing with perverse pleasure at his degradation of the hero. Oliver thought of Chloe, and of all that he had lost – it felt as if the time of crisis had arrived, and that now, at that moment, he was about to die.

"Enough!"

A voice cut through the silence of the chamber – clear, strong, insistent.

A woman's voice.

Akunin's voice.

I warned you things were going to get bad for Ollie - and Akunin and Lex still have a lot more planned for him yet! Chloe will reappear soon, and gradually their two stories will start to weave together. Having said that, this story has got a LONG way to go - many more angsty twists and turns, even for me!

Thanks for reading, and especially for reviewing. Your reviews are just amazing, and are so important to me - without feedback it can be really hard to keep going sometimes. Please keep letting me know what you think - it means so much!

I'm still busy with work, so I may not be able to post next week - I promise to try my best!