++++++ mjf2468 - thank you! I wanted to go with something different. I mean, we all know how Oliver started off and I didn't want to copy it. Make it different-I mean they're friends no but it's better seeing them start off as enemies.

kindleflame5 & WinterRain36 - Lemon's it is!

highlander348 - he is controlling but I suppose with a purpose. Still doesn't stop it from being annoying though. She'll have her solo-already have that planned

I hope you all like this chapter, it was fun to write.

I do not own Arrow or any affiliated characters apart from my OC. All rights belong to the shows/comics creators ++++++

Eleven

I didn't think I had made any progress in the last four weeks.

The only improvement that had been made was the fact that I sported an ever growing series of cuts and bruises that were painted across my pale skin. The mercenaries working for Fyers often found it hilarious and liked to watch Him play punching bag with River.

All I could think of was that I was going to die.

And I didn't want to die.

Against all odds I'd survived a sinking boat, running out of food and the teachings of an insane lunatic who had no name and now I was going to die simply because I was unable to land a hit on a man who had years of training and killing on me.

As I sat there staring at the hard piece of toast and out of date eggs someone grunted behind me, hoping to get my attention. When I turned around, I saw Him standing there, his hazel eyes boring right into me. "My death isn't for another six hours, thank you," I growled, turning back to stare at my breakfast.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me up from the table and proceeded to drag me outside. He dumped me on the ground and toward over me.

"Alright! Alright!" I screamed. "Alright! I get it! Let go of me you fucking asshole! You wanna play let's kill River! Just fucking do it then!"

I heard Fyers laughing at me.

"Miss Quinn, your progress this past month has been entertaining to say the least," he smirked. "I'm interested to see what you've actually learned." He nodded at my psychopathic teacher.

He drew his swords and instead of striking me down then and there, He handed me one.

I grunted at the weight of the blade and pulled myself up off the muddy ground. Before I even had a chance to raise the weapon, He struck down, hard.

The muscles in my arm weren't strong enough to keep a grip on the sword and I almost dropped it under the weight. I cried out when I felt the tip of His blade sink into my shoulder and pulled back-well-more stumbled.

He struck again, completely ignoring the crowd of men who had gathered to witness my execution. I barely managed to duck the strike only to earn a backhand to the face right before he kicked me to the ground.

My body rolled and I forced myself up before he could kick me again. He swung the sword out, slicing my shirt and into a little bit of my stomach. At least I'd learnt how to dodge until I tire out and die-that's a plus.

He managed to kick me again, sending me sprawling to the ground before knocking the weapon from my hand.

Fyers sighed. "Such a pity, Miss Quinn. You had much potential. Kill her," he ordered.

Two mercenaries pulled me two my knees as He went to get his sword from the ground.

A feral growl escaped me and I grabbed the knife off the belt of one of the mercenaries before I threw it straight at Him. He ducked to the side but the blade managed to bury itself in the chest of one of the mercenaries who had gathered to watch me die.

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands.

Fyers stared at me for what seemed like an age before he started laughing. "Bravo Miss Quinn," he grinned. "Bravo. You just proved my point-even the most innocent people can be made to kill. I think I'm going to enjoy having you around a while longer." He nodded to the mercenaries to tell them to take the body away, leaving me standing there trying not to throw up. "Mr Wintergreen-she's all yours. I imagine it will take you no time at all to mould her into something presentable. No need to be gentle."

I stared at the body as the mercenaries took it away, seeing someone get killed is different than killing them yourself.

I gasped and ran over behind some crates to throw up the bile in my stomach.

When I pulled back to wipe my mouth, something was thrown on the ground beside me.

I glanced up to see Him-no-Wintergreen standing there watching me like he usually did. On the ground was something wrapped up in leather, when I picked it up to unroll it, I found that it was a bunch of knives.

Sharp knives.

He started walking away from me giving me no choice by to follow him

No one seemed to care that I killed someone…I don't think I'm ever going to forget it.

Usually the sound of dripping water echoed throughout the foundry, the occasion rat or trapped pigeon but tonight, the sound of clanging metal echoed in the darkness.

I could feel the heat of the lamps above me and the sweat beads rolling down my back. I gripped my hands tightly around the metal poles I was holding and struck against the identical practice weapons Oliver was holding.

The only sounds that could be heard were the connecting weapons and the sounds coming from us. Sparing with Oliver like this reminded me off all those times sparing with Wintergreen and Slade. Both men had taught me a lot when it came to fighting-my sharp edge I got from Wintergreen, my fierce determination I got from Slade. The stubbornness was my own.

Oliver hooked his practice weapon underneath my arm, hitting upwards to try and make me lose my grip. I twirled my weapon around, hitting him up the left side of his head.

He glared at me and struck again, this time elbowing me in the chest and sending me stumbling back across the mat.

I threw the practice weapon at him, chasing after it and ducking into a roll right underneath his legs before coming up behind him. I delivered a swift kick to the back of the knee, sending him down before tossing the poles down to trap him in a choke hold.

Oliver reached backwards to try and grab me. Unable to get a good grip on my head or shoulders, he tried again, this time going for my leg.

I laughed and wrap him legs around him only to have him fall backwards with a thump onto the wet floor. I spat out a string of swear words as the two of us managed to come apart.

Oliver coughed as he got up, rubbing his throat.

I grinned and crash tackled him.

"Why can't I go out on my own?" I snapped. "Why can't I take Somers on my own?"

It wasn't so much a sparring session anymore-more like a brawl.

"Because I said no," Oliver growled, rolling so I was pinned underneath him.

"Asshole!" I snapped, kneeing him straight in the groin, it was easier to turn the tables on him that way. I was fast, but he used his strength.

Oliver glared at me, pain written across his face as the two of us got to our feet.

We circled each other for a few seconds, before I lunged towards him and threw a fake punch to the left. Oliver moved to block it, leaving his stomach exposed and I punched to the right. Oliver gritted hist teeth and punch straight at my face. I ducked but he landed a punch to my gut. I gasped and stumbled backwards. The pain rippled through my body but it was easy to ignore.

Oliver reached for my arm and twisted it behind my back.

I growled and snapped my head backward, connecting with his face.

"Damn it, River!" Oliver groaned. "You're not ready to go out on your own!"

"Fuck you!" I snapped.

Oliver swung his fist out, when I dodged it he swung his leg out and knocked me to the ground. "You're letting you anger get the better of you."

"Because I'm not a child!" I snapped.

I grabbed his leg and pulled, sending him to the ground with a thud. I attempted to climb onto him and punch him in the face but he grabbed my fist with his hand and stopped the action dead in it's tracks. I pulled back my other hand and landed a hard punch to the jaw right before he flipped me over, using all his weight to pin my legs and arms to the ground so I couldn't knee him or punch him.

Oliver stared at me with a scowl on his face "Feel better now? Or are you going to complain some more?"

I growled and struggled to move but he was heavier than I was. "Get off me!" I snapped when our phones started ringing.

We sprung apart and went to answer them.

Before I went to answer Peter, I grabbed one of his target practice tennis ball and pegged it at Oliver, hitting him in the back of the head.

He glared at me and answered his call, leaving me to answer mine.