Deadshot, Part 1
CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama
Language: no
Violence: no
Nudity: none
Sex: none
Other: none
Author's Note:
Time for another mission, with a surprise guest villain...! ::looks at title:: Oh. Never mind, then. Someday, I will be able to come up with really good titles.
Note: For those who have seen Season 2 of Arrow... this Floyd Lawton is not that Floyd Lawton, so he's AU (or OOC if you like) to some degree, because he's based on MUC (Made Up Crap(tm)) that I made up after Season 1.
Speaking of writing this so long ago... I got this scene out again and noticed that The Big Divorce was supposed to still be a secret. Oops. And Felicity had this really nice panic attack. I'll attach it as a deleted scene. ;)
Deadshot, Part 1
===#===
Verdant Basement
Oliver had been thinking too much. He'd never been stupid, despite his school records, just lazy. The island had stripped him of that, too, along with his softness, his negligible layer of fat, and his unmarked skin. Now, he always needed to know what people were doing, what they were thinking, what they were after. He always needed to judge the weather, the lighting, the terrain. His life had depended upon it. But sometimes, it was just too much.
He couldn't figure out how to patch things up between him and Tommy. He couldn't figure out how to balance his secrecy with his relationship, what he could tell Laurel, how he could handle her. He couldn't figure out Malcolm Merlyn. Friend? Enemy? Ally? Danger? He just went around and around the same questions over and over again. It only tied him in knots.
So he worked out, hard, pushing his body until his mind shut down and gave him some peace. There wasn't a lot of room to run, not in a full-out sprint. The corners and angles around the tables and support struts let him hone his agility. Overhead, there was more room; room to swing, to leap, to use his arms to propel himself through his lair.
He leapt down and sprang on the training dummy that Felicity had dubbed 'the poor unfortunate.' Blocks and punches flew, too fast to see, too quick to think about. Then the word 'vigilante' penetrated the silence in his mind, and he quit. He turned towards Felicity and her screens, where she had the early news on.
"Last night, the Starling City Vigilante attacked a cadre of drug dealers down in the Glades, leaving seven suspected gang members dead."
Oliver slammed his fist into the post.
Felicity swiveled around in her chair. "You know, I shouldn't have to ask this, but I have to ask this... that's not you, right?"
"No." Oliver grabbed a towel and rubbed his face, neck, and chest as he moved closer, but the newscaster didn't have anything more to say on the subject.
"And it's not Mr. Merlyn's MO," she mused aloud. Her opinion of him had cooled after she found out he'd donated a collection of Habsburg Monarchy artifacts to the Starling Art Museum. Spoils of Burkhardt's demise. "Could it be another copycat? Wow, you're popular." She frowned at him. "How are we going to find this guy? Do you want to find him? I mean, he is fighting crime..."
Oliver shook his head. "He's killing people. Executing them without trial." He moved to pick up his shirt. "And I know who it is. I guess I'll have to go talk to him." He was not looking forward to that.
Felicity gaped at him a moment, but before she could ask, the upstairs door banged.
"Oliver," Diggle called as he came down the stairs. "Word from ARGUS. Lawton is going to be back in town. They lost his trail outside Chicago this morning."
Oliver pulled the t-shirt on quickly. "Can we pick it up? Felicity?"
She muted the news and turned to her keyboard. "Uhm... Airplanes, I can track. Trains, buses... But he took a car?" Diggle nodded to her. "That's not going to work. Unless he takes a toll route, maybe."
"Do they know who his target is?" Oliver asked.
"Not yet."
"We can find out." His mind raced again, but this time with an achievable target. "If the money is coming through the Triad again..."
Felicity said, "I... can't hack Triad computers. I mean, I could, if I had a clue where they were. And could type in Chinese."
"No," said Oliver. "This is going to require some old-fashioned legwork. I know a restaurant..." He snagged his jacket and trotted out.
===#===
Felicity watched him go. "And... yet again, not invited to lunch." She tipped her head to look up at Diggle. "Take out again?"
"Yeah, again." He seemed edgy, unable to settle.
"I know what this means to you," she said quietly. His brother's killer. "We'll get him."
"We will get him." Diggle looked down into her eyes. "Felicity, I mean to get him permanently. If you want to sit this one out, I'll understand."
She bit her lip. How many times was this question going to come up in her life? She had thought she'd never condone murder. But it wasn't murder. It wasn't some random, selfish, stupid, useless killing. They were stopping murderers. Murderers, rapists, slavers... If it were her brother, if she had a brother... if it were her kin, she'd want justice. And if the police couldn't bring the killer to justice, then she would want a vigilante on her side.
She looked up. "No. No, I'll help."
===#===
Jade Dragon Restaurant
Oliver pinned the Chinese mafioso to the wall. The hot sauce had worked so well the first time, he'd brought his own container. Tears, blood, and sauce ran down the man's face. "I don't have any interest in you," the Hood growled low in Mandarin. "I want the assassin. Give me his target."
"Client pays, he doesn't finish the job, client wants money back. Bad for business!"
Oliver snatched up a knife from a dinner tray on the desk. He pressed the tip against the man's stomach. "I can put six inches of steel in you right here," he said with the knowledge of personal experience. "And you won't die. Not for days."
"They kill me anyway, if I screw up again."
"They'll kill you much more quickly." Oliver bared his teeth. The Triad had this information; he needed it to help Diggle. He hadn't killed Lawton the first time, this was on him. "The target," he demanded.
"No!"
He pushed the knife in, slowly, just a little. The mafioso thrashed, and Oliver threw his weight against him to keep him pinned, shifted his hand over the man's mouth to stifle his cries. "The target!"
He could feel the second the man reached his breaking point. Oliver eased up and, "Steele!" the man cried.
"Walter Steele?" Oliver drew back in surprise.
"Yes, yes, him!"
Oliver pulled the knife out and whipped the hilt around to slam into the man's temple. He crumpled to the floor, and Oliver made a quick exit.
===#===
Verdant Basement
"It's Walter," he announced, stalking back into the lair.
Diggle and Felicity looked up from their take-out containers. The tech girl almost choked on a noodle she was scarfing. "Walter?" She jumped up and ran to her computer.
Diggle asked, "Who would want Walter dead?"
Oliver shook his head. "I don't know. But what's important right now is stopping Lawton."
"He can target Walter at Queen Consolidated tower," Felicity started, "or at your house, but Lawton prefers urban jungle, so he'll probably try the office. Except security and safety precautions would make that difficult. Okay, I have his itinerary - wow, I just hacked my boss' calendar. So not good. Oh!" She broke off suddenly. "I forgot. He's not at your house any more." She frowned.
"No, he's staying at the Royal Maquette." Oliver moved to her side. "Can you show that on the street map photo thing?"
"Google Earth." She nodded and typed rapidly.
The Royal Maquette boasted a fine view of the harbor. It was and older building, with refined decorative architecture, in an older neighborhood on the west side. Only three buildings overlooked the penthouse, one on the north side, and a pair of glass-walled shopping pavilions at the southeast corner. They were connected at the fourth floor by a covered skywalk, but looking at it from every angle, there was no way two of them could cover all of Deadshot's possible staging areas. There was also no way they were going to put Felicity anywhere near the assassin.
"Well, what about the police?" she asked. "Detective Lance seems reasonable. Just call him up on that vigilante-phone."
Oliver thought it over, and saw a contemplative frown on Diggle's face as well. He said, "If the police get involved, they'll want to cover Walter from the inside. Deadshot will see them; he might spook."
Felicity leveled a look at him. "Are you saying you want to use Walter as bait?"
He put up his hands defensively. "I'm saying the police can't handle Deadshot. Even ARGUS can't catch him. We need heavy hitters." He looked to Diggle.
"You're not seriously suggesting...?" Diggle groaned as Oliver nodded. "Not Malcolm Merlyn."
"Unless you know any Special Forces buddies you can call on?"
Diggle planed his hands over his head, interlaced the fingers behind his skull. He looked heavenward as if seeking answers there. He frowned again. All his prior Special Forces buddies were in jail after those armored car heists. "No," he grumbled with a frown.
"This is your call."
The ex-soldier let his hands drop to his sides. He took a breath, then said, "For Floyd Lawton... I think I do want a murderous bastard on our side."
Oliver nodded. "I'll call him."
===#===
Collinder Park
Oliver coasted his motorcycle to a halt opposite the limousine. Merlyn stood outside the vehicle, looking over its roof, watching a group of children playing kickball. He turned as Oliver approached, his face impassive as usual. He listened as Oliver outlined the situation.
"This doesn't sound like an entry on The List."
"It's not."
"So, after accusing me of using your team for my own personal vendettas," Merlyn said, "you want me to help you with one of your own personal vendettas?"
"Yes." At least he was up front about it.
Merlyn shook his head. "Why should I help you?"
"You might be interested," Oliver said. "Suppose I told you this hitman's unique signature is to lace his bullets with curare?"
Merlyn went on alert, like a hound catching a scent; he was unable to mask it. He closed his teeth, slowly, deliberately, as if tasting the situation. Probably deciding if Oliver were manipulating him. "All right. I'm in."
Oliver nodded. "Meet at the club. Tomorrow at 5 pm."
"I'll be there."
===#===
End Notes:
Outtake - Felicity's Big Divorce Panic:
Oliver: This can't be made public. Walter is suing my mother for divorce.
Felicity: What?
Diggle: Why?
Felicity: Oh my God, the CEO and acting CEO and the co-owners of Queen Consolidated breaking up? The company will be ripped apart; shareholders will bail like lemmings; the stock will plummet into the toilet; holdings will be liquidated; jobs will be downsized... ::voice going higher and more breathless:: Thousands of people will lose their jobs! I'll lose my job!
Oliver: Felicity, calm down!
Felicity: ::feels faint, puts her head down:: Oh God, I'll have to go work for Merlyn Global. Oh God, Oh God...
Oliver: That's why it hasn't gone public. My mother and Walter are trying to settle out of court as quietly as possible so the company keeps running along smoothly.
Felicity: I should sell my stock.
Oliver: Felicity!
Felicity: Oh, right. Insider trading. That's illegal, can't do that... ::still dazed::
.
...wow, this was good. what idiot decided the divorce should go public at the beginning of this season? ::glares at Brain::