Here's the next installment - hope you like it. Continuing thanks to all who are reading and reviewing. The next few chapters are going to contain quite a bit of action and tension, plus a greater role for Chloe, which I know will please a lot of you.

Chapter Eleven: Despair

It took Oliver close to an hour to work through the thick rope that bound his wrists. Progress was frustratingly slow, but with his hands restrained Oliver found it difficult to exert the pressure and control necessary on the small knife to work at speed. His focus was absolute, and despite the still desperate nature of his position he felt almost elated. At last, after hours of despair, there was hope – he had an ally, and the means to escape. It was this sense of elation that helped him through the seemingly never-ending process of gently cutting away at the thick rope, a process which sometimes saw him cut himself as he tried to manoeuvre the knife more effectively.

At last he felt the rope loosening, and then finally his hands sprang apart as he used brute force to break the final strands that held him. He paused for a moment, letting the relief that he felt sweep over him. Quickly, however, his training kicked in, and as he untied the rope that bound his feet and neck he simultaneously started to tune into any sounds emanating from beyond his cell door.

His muscles ached as he slowly got to his feet, pulling the tape from his mouth as he did so. His time on the floor in the stress position meant that he found it difficult to stand, and he tried to restore some circulation to his abused body by doing some stretching exercises. He was weak, he knew that – in no fit state for a fight with Stadler and Weir. He also felt slightly light headed – the lack of food was taking its toll. But at least he was free, and master of his own destiny once more. Carly was out there, possibly prepared to offer him help – he was going to escape, he knew that for certain.

Silently he moved to the door of the cell. He stood motionless, straining to hear the slightest sound coming from the corridor beyond.

There was nothing.

His heart pounding in his chest, Oliver reached for the handle of the door, and gently turned it. He knew from the moment he put pressure on the handle that the door was not locked – Carly's work? Or Stadler getting careless? Whichever, Oliver slowly opened the door half an inch, and peered into the corridor beyond.

Nothing.

Slowly, silently, Oliver moved into the corridor. At the far end he could see the entrance to the warehouse area, a slight glow illuminating the crates that were stacked near the doorway. Again he halted, pressing his back close against the corridor wall so as to limit the amount of his body visible to anyone passing the opening in the warehouse.

Again, all seemed silent.

Oliver edged along the wall. The corridor itself was illuminated by a single light bulb, which cast a yellowy light on two doors set in the wall on the left hand side. Tentatively Oliver tried the handles of each of them, hoping to find an escape route. This time his luck was not in, as the locks held firm.

It soon became clear to Oliver that his only route of escape lay through the warehouse. He stopped once more, considering his options. Why was it so quiet? Maybe some of his captors had gone out. Someone must still be there, he reasoned – they wouldn't take the risk of leaving him entirely unguarded. But maybe he would only have to face one opponent – evened up the odds a bit in his favour. He tried to remember the layout of the warehouse. The door to the stairwell lay some way from the corridor, which would make an escape difficult. But the crates and machinery would provide cover, and the area where the television was – presumably where his jailers relaxed – was also some distance from the exit. And if he could make it to the table with his weapons, then there would be all to play for…..

His heart once again pumping so hard it reverberated inside his head, he edged towards the end of the corridor, and cautiously peered around the doorway to see inside the main part of the warehouse.

The light was dim, apart from the area around the television. There he could make out a figure slumped across the couch. It was a man's body, and Oliver could see a beer bottle lying clasped to his chest.

Weir. And he looked out cold for the duration.

Oliver looked around. There was no one else in the illuminated area, and elsewhere there was an eerie silence, large areas of the warehouse being plunged into darkness. He could see the table with his weapons still lying on it, a few feet from where he stood. And further away the exit, and freedom.

Oliver could hardly believe it. He was going to make it! Stadler was nowhere in sight, and Weir might not even wake up as he went for the door – if he did, his crossbow would soon settle him.

Oliver fixed his eyes on his weapon, sitting where Stadler had left it some hours before. Silently, he stepped out of the corridor.

"What took you so long, pretty boy?"

Oliver stopped dead in his tracks, his heart missing a beat. He felt the muzzle of a gun pressed against the side of his head.

"Hey Stadler, the guest of honour's here for his surprise party". The voice was Carly's. Not the Carly who had seemed so frightened in his cell, the Carly who offered hope of escape. No, this was the Carly who had sneered her contempt for Oliver when he had first arrived at the warehouse.

So now he knew who the real Carly was. Oliver's stomach turned as in an instant his hopes of freedom were ruined. Once again he had been tricked, but this was the cruellest trick of all – the trick that robbed him of hope.

Suddenly the warehouse was flooded with light. Stadler emerged from behind a stack of crates, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, well, at last we can get this party started! We've been waiting for our star guest to turn up." Stadler's tone was triumphalist – he was determined to savour his latest success at Oliver's expense.

"What, no words from the smart mouth? No wisecrack from the hero?"

Oliver remained silent.

"Maybe he thought he was gonna be leaving us" said Carly, pressing the muzzle of the gun a little harder into Oliver's skull.

"No, leaving us? You mean the great Mr Queen, with his rich boy college education, fell for your act again? Now Oliver, you disappoint me – I'd expected better. You shouldn't have got his hopes up, Carly – now he's just gonna want to run home to mom and cry."

Carly smiled, enjoying Stadler's humiliation of the cornered hero. Oliver remained stony faced and silent.

"Still, we got some great party games lined up for you, pretty boy. Something new – I think you're gonna like it."

Stadler was by now standing by the table that had been the scene of his previous torture. Oliver felt physically sick - he could hardly bear to think of what new torments lay ahead.

"Move, leather boy." Carly pushed Oliver forward towards the table. He took a few steps, his mind racing as he tried to think of some means of escape. The knife! He still had the knife! It was small, but it might be enough….

Suddenly Oliver stumbled. Carly barely had time to react before he had reached into a pocket in his tunic and pulled out the knife. He slashed at her leg, causing her to cry out in agony and drop the gun.

Things moved quickly. Both Oliver and Stadler saw the gun fly from Carly's hand and fall to the floor about equal distance between them. Both made a lunge for the weapon…..

And it was Oliver who reached it first. Instantaneously he pointed it in Stadler's direction, causing the big man to stop dead in his tracks.

"Back off!" demanded Oliver, as he slowly got to his feet. Stadler, still smiling, complied, raising his hands in the air.

"Easy boy, easy", said Stadler.

"Get over there" ordered Oliver, gesturing to where Carly stood, her hand clasped to her leg. Slowly Stadler started to move.

He was in control! Oliver felt a surge of relief once more…but then a feeling of doubt. Something was wrong, something he'd forgotten….

Suddenly he felt something wrap itself around his neck. A rope! It tightened, choking Oliver and causing him to claw desperately at his neck. Weir! How could he have forgotten Weir! He tried to keep the gun trained on Stadler, but he could see his tormentor's smile widen as he gradually felt himself becoming light headed.

"I'd drop it if I were you, or else Weir there is gonna squeeze every last drop of air outta you."

Eventually Oliver had to admit defeat, and allowed the weapon to drop to the floor. Stadler calmly stepped forward and retrieved it, at which point Weir released the pressure on Oliver's throat. Gasping for breath, the young man fell to his knees.

"Now where were we? Oh yes, the party games", said Stadler. He nodded to Weir, who then proceeded to grab Oliver under each arm and drag him towards the table. For a moment Oliver was like a lifeless doll, but as his strength returned he started to struggle desperately against his captor. It was futile, and Stadler looked on in satisfaction as once again his victim was strapped down onto the table.

Carly walked over to where Oliver once again lay restrained. She moved up close to the captive so that her body touched his and Oliver could feel her breath on his face.

"You are so gonna regret cutting me, pretty boy", she whispered into his ear. Oliver instinctively tried to turn his head away, but the strap across his forehead prevented him from doing so. Carly ran her tongue up his neck and onto his face.

"You know what I taste? I taste fear", she said, her face little more than inch from Oliver's.

"Bitch", said Oliver, unable to restrain himself any longer.

She grabbed his hair, holding his head still. With her free hand she pressed a knife against the man's exposed throat.

"Watch your mouth, rich boy", she said, enjoying the power she had over the Oliver. "We wouldn't want to have to explain how the merchandise had a little accident with a knife to Mr Brown, now would we?"

She then released her grip, and removed the knife from his throat. For a moment she stared at the helpless man who lay before her, and then she turned and walked away.

Stadler replaced her, carrying a bucket of water.

"You ever heard of waterboarding, hero boy?", said Stadler as he placed the bucket down next to where Oliver lay. "They say it can break anyone – certainly spoilt little rich boys like you."

Oliver tried to hide his panic. Waterboarding was notorious – and he knew that he didn't have the strength to resist. He was finished – it was just a matter of time now.

"I don't think that we will be having time for that particular form of entertainment, Mr Stadler".

All eyes turned towards the door, where Brown stood, immaculately attired as ever.

Stadler stepped away from Oliver, clearly discomforted by the arrival of his boss.

"We've just been making our guest comfortable, Mr Brown – nothing more", he said defensively.

"And is that so, Mr Queen? Has Mr Stadler ensured you have had a comfortable stay with us whilst I have been away?" Brown walked across to where Oliver was restrained.

"What can I say? Five star treatment" said Oliver, rapidly regaining some composure now that Brown had arrived. He knew that the arrival of the boss meant an end to his torture – at least for the time being.

Brown smiled. "I'm so glad to hear that. Alas, all things must come to an end, and so it is for you Mr Queen. You see I've just been to see an old friend of yours, and he is keen to meet up – tonight."

Oliver eyed Brown defiantly, trying once again to mask his fear. So his greatest nightmare was about to become a reality – he was to be handed over, a prisoner, to Lex Luthor.