Chapter Eleven: Saving a Friend

Oliver stood a few feet from the edge of the fountain, scanning the landscape around him. It was a clear night, the light of the moon joining with the street lamps to give him a good view of his surroundings. Not that there was much to see; carefully mown lawns stretched away to all sides, occasionally bisected by the wide paths which criss-crossed the park. The landscape was gently undulating, but the nearest trees were some way away, off to his left. The fountain stood in splendid isolation, and that was exactly why Oliver had chosen this spot for the exchange. His enemies would find it impossible to take him by surprise, and the open landscape gave more than enough possible routes of escape.

He glanced over at his car, its tinted windows having once more served their purpose in hiding his identity as he'd made his way to this location. If everything went according to plan, in fifteen minutes' time he and Dean would be driving away in it, his mission accomplished. After that...well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. The priority now was to save Dean; he'd worry about the future later.

He glanced at his watch.

02:58

Not long now.

"Arrow, do you read me?"

"Reading you loud and clear, Watchtower," replied Oliver, his body tensing in expectation of what was to come.

"You've got company – two cars have just pulled into the north entrance."

"Roger that."

"There's more. Another car has just pulled into the west entrance," continued Chloe, her concentration audible in her voice. "Wait...its stopping...two men are getting out...and they're moving in your direction, Arrow – watch your left flank."

"Understood," said Oliver. He'd known that having Watchtower would be vital to the success of his plan, and what he'd just heard only confirmed that.

It took the two cars approaching from the North under thirty seconds to reach the fountain. As they approached Oliver stepped forward a couple of paces to meet them, planting his boots firmly in the gravel of the path as if to stake out his territory. Standing over six feet tall and clad head to toe in the leathers of his costume, he fixed the cars with a cool stare as they came to a halt. Oliver understood the importance of image, and at that moment it was vital to show he held no fear of what was to come. Inside his heart was beating furiously, but outwardly he was the Green Arrow, the man who singlehandedly had brought Metropolis's underworld to its knees.

Eight people got out of the cars. Six were immediately obvious as hired muscle, their guns holstered beneath their dark suits. They fanned out to either side of the cars, taking up positions about thirty feet from where Oliver watched, motionless and impassive. Two figures were left standing at the center. One was Cohen; dressed head to toe in black, she eyed Oliver with a mixture of excitement and fascination. To her side stood Slade. Once again he towered over the scene, his face impossible to read. Instinctively Oliver knew that this was the man he had spoken to down the phone, the man who had tortured Dean in order to force him out into the open. The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, each sizing the other up; both knew that whatever happened over the following few minutes, only one of them would be leaving the fountain with their reputation intact.

"Green Arrow - or should that be Mr Queen," began Cohen, taking a few paces towards Oliver. "I've heard so much about you – it's a pleasure to meet you at long last."

"Where's Dean?" demanded Oliver, determined not to get drawn into some sort of conversation.

"Still masking your voice?" replied Cohen. "Really, Mr Queen, there's no need. We all know it's you, so let's not play games, yes?"

"I asked you a question," continued Oliver, choosing not to respond; the woman clearly wanted him to reveal himself, and he had no intention of playing ball.

"Detective Caruso is safe – for now," said Cohen, her voice losing some of its earlier playfulness; she sensed that Oliver was not going to rise to her bait, and was starting to feel tense in expectation of what was to come.

"Let me see him."

Cohen turned and nodded to two of her men, who then turned and headed towards the trunk of the first car. No one else moved. Whilst Cohen had done all the talking, Oliver kept his eyes focused firmly on Slade; the man had said nothing, but there was something about his brooding presence which told the young hero that it was he who posed the greatest threat to his chances of getting Dean out of there alive.

After a few seconds the men emerged from around the back of the car. Between them they dragged Dean, who was struggling to get free of their grip; a punch to the detective's gut soon made him more compliant.

"Well, here he is," said Cohen, glancing across at Dean. "Now where's Hoskins?"

Dean, recovering from the blow to his stomach, looked up and saw Oliver. The two men stared at each other for a couple of seconds, and Oliver felt relieved that his friend appeared to have survived his ordeal relatively unscathed. His hands were tied behind his back, and a strip of tape had been plastered over his mouth, but otherwise he appeared to be in good shape, with no obvious signs of serious injury. However, if Dean looked physically unharmed, his eyes told a different story. They were wide with alarm, almost as if they were trying to warn Oliver of something, of the fact that this was all a terrible trap...

"Pretty boy is fine, now where's Hoskins?" demanded Cohen impatiently.

This time it was Oliver's turn to retrieve his hostage. He walked backwards towards the trunk of his car, never once taking his eyes off Slade and the others. Opening it up, he pulled Hoskins out, before throwing the DA to the ground in front of him. Trussed up and gagged, Hoskins glared furiously up at Oliver, before looking across at Cohen and Slade. His eyes lit up when he saw them, realising that rescue was probably close at hand.

"Get up," ordered Oliver, looking down at Hoskins with contempt. The DA struggled awkwardly to his feet, before the press of a crossbow bolt against the side of his head brought him to a sudden halt.

"That's far enough," said Oliver, pushing his bow firmly against the other man's skull as he looked across at the others. "Now send over Dean. And no tricks – or our esteemed DA here will regret it."

Cohen smiled. "Nice try, Mr Queen, but I told you - the game's over," she said, coolly pulling out a gun and jamming it hard under Dean's chin. "Now put down your weapon and surrender, or I will kill your friend here."

Oliver swallowed hard, trying to contain the adrenalin that was now surging through his body. He'd hoped that it wouldn't play out like this, but it had always been a possibility; he just needed to stay calm, to convince them that he really would kill Hoskins if they didn't let Dean go...

"You think I won't do it? Listen, if I kill this son-of-a-bitch I'll be doing the city a favour," said Oliver, trying to mask the tension in his voice. "Now let Dean go – now!"

He pushed the crossbow even more firmly into Hoskins' skin, forcing the man to lean away. Hoskins appeared terrified, tears running down his cheeks; there was no doubt that he, at least, believed that Oliver would carry out his threat.

Cohen continued to hold her gun under Dean's chin. She showed no signs of giving in; instead, she continued to smile malevolently, as if she was enjoying the drama that was playing out in front of her.

"Did you really think we were going to exchange your pet cop for him?" she said, glancing at Hoskins. "He's of no value to us, so go ahead – kill him. It won't change the fact that if you don't surrender to us in the next ten seconds, Metropolis is going to be mourning the loss of its favourite detective."

Hoskins's eyes widened, his face crumpling with fear as he realised that his would-be rescuers viewed his life as dispensable. He whimpered into his gag, as Oliver continued to hold the crossbow against his head. Oliver said nothing, his mind desperately trying to readjust to this new reality. He'd played his best hand, but it hadn't been good enough; as he looked across at Dean he knew that he was fast running out of options...

"Lay down your weapon, and Dean here won't be harmed – you have my word," continued Cohen. "We have no interest in hurting him – it's you that we want."

Still Oliver said nothing. He could hear Hoskins muffled words of panic in his ears, but his eyes were fixed firmly on Cohen, who continued to press the barrel of her gun into the underside of Dean's chin. The young cop didn't flinch; he knew his life was on the line, but Oliver could tell from the defiance that flashed in his eyes that he was ready for whatever might happen next.

"Five," said Cohen, beginning to countdown the seconds.

"Four."

Alert to every danger, Oliver sensed movement off to his left; the men that Chloe had warned him about had arrived, and were moving into position. As Cohen continued her countdown, his mind went into overdrive, a dozen or more life or death decisions being made in an instant. He knew they wanted him alive, and that gave him an advantage. Dean, however, had no such protection, and he knew that in the confrontation that was just seconds away giving his friend the chance to escape was his first priority. Eying up the men who faced him, Oliver placed each one on a mental map, determining the level of threat they posed and how best to neutralise each of them. They were hired muscle; with orders to capture and not kill, he was confident he could take them out. But Slade...Slade was another matter. How much of a threat was he? Oliver couldn't know for sure, and that unnerved him; he just had to hope that his instincts were wrong, and that he could defeat the huge man who was standing just feet from where he stood, watching and waiting...

"Two."

"I can do this," he said to himself, "I have to do this."

"One."

Nobody moved. The night air was thick with the tension of the moment, as each side in the standoff stared at the other, hands poised over weapons.

"Big mistake, Mr Queen," said Cohen, breaking the silence. She turned to look at Dean, his chin still resting perilously on top of the barrel of her gun. "Say goodbye, Detective."

Her finger began to press down on the trigger. Dean closed his eyes, screwing them up tightly as he offered up a silent prayer and waited for the inevitable. However, the shot did not come. Instead he heard Cohen cry out in agony, and the pressure from the gun barrel suddenly disappear. His eyes shot open, to find his would-be killer on her knees, her hands grasped around an arrow which protruded from her right shoulder blade.

"Get him!" she shouted, her face twisted in a mixture of pain and rage. Dean suddenly found himself standing alone as the two men who had held him in their grip joined the others in charging forwards towards Oliver. He looked down at Cohen, who returned his gaze; each knew what the other was thinking. Letting go of the arrow which still stuck out from her shoulder, Cohen made a grab for her gun, which lay a couple of feet away. Dean was too quick for her; he kicked the gun away across the gravel, before turning and kicking his kidnapper square on the jaw. Cohen fell back, rolling around on the ground as she clutched her face. Dean was in no mood to show mercy, and pressed home his attack, delivering a second kick to her gut. She stopped moving, a low groan the only sign that she had not lost consciousness. Satisfied that, for now at least, Cohen was out of action, Dean looked up, hoping to find that Oliver was having as much luck as he had had...

Cohen's chilling farewell to Dean had prompted Oliver to launch his attack. Reaching behind him he had grabbed an arrow from his quiver, hurling it with devastating accuracy at his primary target. He had found his mark, Cohen's scream of pain enough to tell him that she would not be able to carry out her threat. He had not had time to watch his friend press home his attack. No sooner had the arrow left his hand and he had grabbed Hoskins by the neck, wheeling him to the left just in time for the hapless DA to take two tranquiliser darts to the chest. The man barely had time to open his mouth in shock before the drug had taken effect, and he slumped to the ground. He had served his purpose, however; crouching behind his human shield, Oliver had already managed to take out the two men who had attacked him from the side with two well-aimed crossbow bolts. He turned, to find Cohen's men advancing on his position. He dived to his right, just in time to avoid three or four darts that the men had fired in his direction. He fired off two bolts as he lay on the ground, each finding its target as two men fell heavily to the ground. The four remaining men continued to bear down on him, firing off darts as they got closer and closer. Luckily for Oliver, their aim was poor, and he easily leapt out of the way. Springing to his feet, he launched himself at the two men who were closest to him. The first was felled with two swift blows, one to the gut and one to the head. The other threw a punch, but Oliver easily dodged it; nimbly he twisted around and took the man's legs out from under him, finishing him off with a punch of his own, directed straight at the man's head.

It had all taken place in a matter of seconds, but- miraculously – Oliver seemed to be winning. It was then that things took a sudden turn for the worse. As Oliver turned to face the other two men a blow to his jaw sent him staggering. For the first time he was off balance; his attackers sensed their moment, and did not hesitate. One of them grabbed him by his arms, pinioning them behind his back. Oliver tried to get free, but the man was too strong. He looked up, to find the other man standing in front of him, a leering grin on his face. He drove his fist hard into Oliver's gut, causing the young hero to double over in agony. Winded, Oliver desperately tried to force some air into his lungs, but within seconds a second blow, this time to his head, left him reeling. Then there was another blow, and another – dazed, Oliver could sense that it was only a matter of time before he lost consciousness...

Suddenly, and without warning, Oliver felt the grip of his captor disappear. He didn't know what had happened, but this time it was his turn not to hesitate; taking advantage of his freedom, he reached out and grabbed the other man's fist, just as he was about to bury it once more in Oliver's gut. The man looked stunned, but not for long – a single blow to the head and he collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

His attackers defeated, at last Oliver was able to pause and catch his breath. His chest heaved as he tried to recover from the beating he had just received. He knew that he had been lucky – a few more blows and it would have been all over. What had happened? He turned, and quickly found the answer.

"Thought you could do with some help," said Dean, a broad grin on his face. He was standing over the body of the man who had grabbed Oliver; the large stone in his hand made it clear what had happened.

"Hey, I had it covered," replied Oliver, a knowing grin forming on his lips. The two men stood smiling at each other for a moment, before a wave of relief propelled them towards each other. They hugged, like long lost brothers who'd thought they might never see each other again.

"I owe you, man," said Dean, his voice choked with emotion. He'd managed to stay strong during his long hours as a hostage, but now that his ordeal seemed to be over the tide of his pent-up emotions could be held back no longer.

"Anytime, man – anytime," replied Oliver, his spirits soaring. For a split second he felt nothing but joy. The fate of his team, the loss of his secret identity – all these fears were, for the shortest of moments, forgotten. Dean was safe, and that was all that mattered – he had saved his friend.

It was the last moment of happiness Oliver was to experience for a very long time.

"Oliver Queen!"

Oliver froze. Both he and Dean turned, to find Slade standing calmly twenty feet or so away.

"That was quite a show you put up there," he continued, staring at Oliver. "The Green Arrow has certainly lived up to his reputation."

"Stay where you are!" ordered Oliver, stretching out his arm and aiming his crossbow straight at Slade's head. He felt tense, uncertain, his every instinct screaming at him that this man was dangerous, more dangerous than he could imagine...

"Your reflexes are good – you train hard, I can tell," continued Slade, his easy tone at odds with an atmosphere that was suddenly fraught with tension. "Now lay down your weapon, and you have my word your detective friend will live."

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but this is over, do you hear? Your plan has failed – so don't move, unless you want a crossbow bolt in your chest." Oliver's words sounded confident, but inside he felt anything but; something was wrong, something was very wrong...

Slade laughed. "You think this is over? It's not over, Mr Queen – it's just begun!"

Hi everyone! Sorry there was no update last week - real life is incredibly busy at the moment. I hope that this chapter has made up for it - lots of Green Arrow action, with Ollie at his heroic best! But it's Slade's turn now - you just know it's not going be easy, don't you?

I'd expected to be posting this with everyone on a high after watching Collateral. What's with the delay? The CW deserve all the grief that they're getting at the moment.

Sorry to have to tell you this, but the next update won't be for another couple of weeks. The next chapter is big, and also shocking - I want to get it right, and work is still really crazy at the moment.

Thanks to all those of you who have posted reviews - you are amazing! Please do leave some feedback if you can - it means a lot, and might encourage me to post the next chappie a little faster!