I don't know how true this is, but I read that Billy's code name was Bishop. So when Slade left the Island, he became Deathstroke but there is no mention of his code name before. Cookie for anyone who sees a comic book reference.

Also, this chapter went longer than expected, so I'm splitting it into a two parter. There will now be 27 chapters. After, there will also be a story of all the little moments I wanted to fit in the main story but could not.

Lastly, the thing Oliver did with his hand is a real thing! Stephen Amell does it purposely to give Oliver depth. He talks about it on a facebook video.

Slade stood before the agent, Lieutenant and Detective, in all his team eight, or Deathstroke gear. His mask had been updated to metal, something custom made with reinforced metal, giving the best possible protection for his skull. With the swords strapped to his back padded, a gun on his belt and a knife at his tight, he looked like he was back on the Island again.

Slade crossed his arms, almost wanting to laugh as sight of fear in the Detective's eyes, before the man's face hardened.

Lyla's brows lowered. "Where are the rest of your team?"

Oliver typed the text into Slade's phone as he listened to the conversation from the open window of the car.

"This was all there ever was," Slade said, his voice clear of its Australian accent. "I had a partner but he died in our last mission."

"He messed up?" Lyla asked, a smirked threatening to pull at her lips.

Slade nodded. "Badly, but that is not why you are here."

"Then why-"

Her phone started to ring.

"Right on time."

Lyla took out her phone, her eyes only leaving Deathstroke to glance at the phone but quickly returned to the device when she saw that it was Amanda calling.

"Michaels," She answered. Over the next half a minuet, her face when from serious to disbelief and shock. Part of her expected that any minuet, Deathstroke would take off his mask and it would be one of her men, that this was all a big joke... But what she heard was even more beyond belief. She hung up the call.

"Deathstroke," she started. "Consisted of a two man team, codenames Bishop and Jericho, employed by the government, to collect foreign intelligence. They're agents like myself."

Pike turned to Lyla. "You're kidding me?"

Slade raised a hand. "Jericho."

Slade remembered the day they got their codenames. It was after his cousin Wade had brought it up. Before they had just been team eight but Wade had been right. It would be useful. Billy became Bishop, it meant overseer, which seemed fitting as he was a pilot. Jericho had biblical meaning of a city which walls were destroyed, at the time, it had became nickname of laying a pattern of explosives to destroy a wall, the strongest but widest that was possible. That was also when they became Deathstroke, a deep cover mission that was set to never really end.

They had not gone into it alone. Then Deadshot joined. Like Deathstroke, he was named by the people, not a codename. Wade had joined to. Slade had torn him a new one for that but Wade had kept his word. They would always stick together. Slade had lost his family, Wade had almost been put away by his, back in a time were his actions less over-excitable but damaged, too much to deal with. Looking back, it was odd that such a person as easily irritated as Slade could take life with Wade. Without Wade, he would have never been able to make it those first few years.

That year he got to the Island, had been the worst in his life. At the start of it Deadshot had betrayed them, as the end Billy had betrayed him, where in the following year, he would live a captive, then on the run on a Island, all alone as he no reason to really trust Yao Fei. Between those events however, Wade had died. He had been on a mission and had gone missing after an explosion, the amount of blood left behind said it was unlikely he had survived. ASIS never heard from his again, even after Slade came back to Australia after the island. Slade had thrown himself into his work after Wade's death, which is how he ended up on the island, may have even been the reason he isolated himself after Billy had changed sides.

"Why did you kill Deadshot?" Lyla questioned.

"I know him. He's not stupid. He would have killed you, and he almost did, else my plan would not have worked."

"And A.R.G.U.S. knew all along." Lyla stated.

"Only those higher up did."

Lyla sighed. Deep cover operations remained secret to make sure there were no leaks. She just felt so stupid for hunting them for all those years.

"So, is that all we're here for or..." Lance asked. It made no real sense why he and Pike had to be here to hear this too.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Lance blinked. "We know each other?"

Lyla and Pike turned to Lance.

Slade hummed to agree.

They turned to Deathstroke.

Slade tutted. "Just yesterday, I had to wrestle with you to get you to drink a glass of water."

Then back to Lance.

Lance's hand flew to his mouth, which hung open. It could not be possible that... "Slade?"

Slade took hold of his metal mask with both hands, pulling it off like he would his motorbike helmet. "Ma chérie," he sang in his low husky, Aussie rich voice.

Lance was shocked beyond belief but then his mind started to connect some dots. Slade killed Deadshot, someone he knew... That night, when they drank together, Slade said his friend had died, a sniper. Slade had killed his friend? Deathstroke had been out of action for six years, the exact amount Slade had been gone for, so if Billy was his friend then, he could have been his partner in this team, but that still did not explain why Slade seemed to hate the guy. Was it because he died? No, there was something else. What had Billy done? What happened on that Island?

Pike blinked. "I know you," he pointed at the padded man. "You're dating that Queen kid."

"Indeed," Slade smiled. He nodded with a hum.

Pike frowned at the odd gesture but continued. "Does he know?"

Slade smirked and seconds later, Pike felt a tap on his shoulder.

Pike span around, his hand naturally going to his gun, from all his years of training. Before he could touch the metal however, a hand grabbed his wrist, locking his joint still. The other took the gun from the Lieutenant, before moving away. The sound of the safety latch being pulled back rang out, before Pike met the face of his attacker.

There stood Oliver Queen, gun in hand, pointing it at him, smile on his face.

Lance found himself smirking as realisation set in, both at the expression on his co-worker's face, surprise with a drizzle of fear, and by the skill that Oliver presented. Five years on an Island his arse.

Oliver flipped the safety on, then swung the gun around, holding it out to the Lieutenant by the ring around the trigger handing from the dip of his first knuckle. "Sorry."

"Neat trick," Pike grumbled, taking back his gun and slipping it back into his holster.

"To finish what you were asking," Slade cut in. "No, we are not here just for this. We have a big problem."

"How big?" Lyla asked.

"Five years ago," Oliver started, moving to stand next to Slade. "A group of people, including my father, came together in order to improve the city. They were all wealthy, and they took it upon themselves to try and lower the crime rate."

Starling was not riddled with prostitution like Las Vegas, drugs filling every street like Baltimore, nor did it have a church with a stone wall dedicated purely to murders like New Orleans. Seven years ago, things started to go down hill. Drugs rings started popping up everywhere, drugs being made locally, promoted by the rich and powerful. Guns, and not just simple hand guns, but automatics and semiautomatics, every criminal going seemed to have them. This drew in more and more issues which further poisoned the city. Starling was not a unsafe place to live, but it was quickly becoming one.

The list detailed the problem, well problems, believe by the group. The spectrum of unbelievably rich and dirt poor was just that, one or the other. There should have been more variation like most places but there had not been for years. The more who were rich, created more that would be poor, and made things by protecting drugs and prostitution so it could thrive, it's claws digging deeper. In those two years alone, things really got bad, with no clue as to what exactly had started it. The next five had only allowed things to grow worse.

Oliver knew now, that even after he stopped the undertaking, where his father had failed to, he would have to finish fixing this city, one name at a time. Malcolm seemed to believe that just stopping them would not be enough, that he needed to get rid of them for good, their buildings, their empires, and all those who lived there, tainted by their world. For a second, that Oliver hated to admit, he understood. It had merit but no... There were people down there, innocent people who worked hard, hell, even those who were part of that life had no other choice, they were entombed by a life they were born into, would live in and pass on.

It would take a life time, and even long after, but Oliver was not going to give up or destroy it all just because it was hard. This was not about revenge anymore, but doing what should have be done. He was a soldier, it was only right that he kept fighting.

Oliver exhaled a breath, his eyes falling shut. "One of them had an idea, a machine, that if funded, would be ready in five years. Some agreed to the theory but never thought it possible, till they saw it was," His eyes opened, "My father went to stop it but he had to do it without him finding out, but he did and," he gulped, looking down to the floor. "My mother was scared, for Thea and herself so after dad died, she helped him create the machine," He raised his head, meeting Lance's eyes. The man had not taken the hint. "I'm sorry."

Lance looked at him, frowning. "For what?"

"He could not let my father stop him... So he rigged the gambit to explode," He said, "I'm so sorry."

Lance felt the air being sucked from his lungs like a punch to the gut. He shook his head, eyes on the floor, mumbling words that even he could not understand. It could not be true. His little girl... No, no, no.

The panic felt like Moira was telling him Sara was dead all over again. His insides felt cold and aching, like his blood was liquid nitrogen, freezing his blood vessels, then his organs, with a painful burn, that unlike the real thing, would not just end in the next for seconds, he would have to live with it. It would dull over time, mostly with beer, but it would always be there, his heart frozen solid.

Something did stop it though. As he lifted his eyes, he spotted Oliver's right hand. His fingers were crooked, his knuckles moving up and down, as if feeling something.

Lance's eyelids flew wide. He had seen Oliver do that a few times, only just noticing it due to his keen attention to the way a person acted. Oliver had even once lifted his hand passed his hips, his left shoulder tilting down. He did not get any further, his fingers twitching, as he stopped himself. At that time, Lance firmly believed that Oliver was reacting for his arrows, that were not there, especially as Lance had advanced on him at the time. Most of the time, when Lance saw Oliver doing this, he was trapped in a confrontation, but not every time

Lance's believed that this one occasion was Oliver preparing to strike back. For the rest however, maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was some sort of safety blanket. The simple hand movement was him comforting himself with his knowledge of his craft, that he was safe.

He did not know how Oliver had learned how to use a bow, or why but those were issues he was unlikely to ever discover. Why use his skills now? Now, that was the real question. Corrupt business men with links with gangs like the Chinese Triad, and who killed or had others kill for the them. People who protected the drugs industry, allowing them to grow stronger, to manufacture more. All those who were ruining the city, and the police and lawyers could not, and sometimes did not even try to touch. The hood handled it.

Oliver was fixing the city. Like this group, who had gone to such dire extremes to do so. He was, in his own way, continuing where his father had left off. He was just trying to make things better and he was risking his life. Every. Single. Time. To do so. Sacrificing everything for the chance to fix things. Lance never thought he would have believed it but... Oliver was a hero.

In that moment, Lance remembered that Oliver took every hit for Sara's death, he accepted it was his fault... But it was not. As of late, Lance found that he no longer blamed the blonde, he hated the storm for taking his little girl, Sara for going, which pained him, but most of all, and he guessed he always had, he blamed himself. However, this was no accident, no natural disaster. It was not his fault, nor Oliver's. She was murdered, and as much as it angered him, it also gave him a sort of relief. He finally knew who he could and should hate.

"It was not your fault."

Oliver stared at the man, not believing what he had heard.

"It never was," Lance raised his eyes.

For a few seconds Oliver just stood there. He had no idea what to make of this moment. It was surreal, borderline wrong... No. It was wrong, Sara's blood was on his hands.

Lance must have seen the disbelief because the next thing Oliver knew, Quentin had pulled him to his chest, an arm wrapped around his back.

He expected anger, hate, never this. Lance was holding on to him far too tightly, and it lasted several second too long. He was upset. Oliver was no longer his enemy, not yet a friend, but at this minuet, he was a lifeline. Ollie never returned the hug, too worried about the reaction it could cause, but he did relax. For the first time, Oliver felt welcomed.

Tommy opened the door to the room which Felicity was sure would house the information they needed. The room was dark, brightened by only the lights of the machines that held such vital information, that Tommy would have to face his father in return for letting them in.

"Okay. No one's there. The guard just went by, so you should have ten minuets till he comes back, he won't check the room though, so don't leave till I can get you."

Felicity nodded. "Got it," she ducked into the room, stopping to turn back to the young Merlyn. "Good luck with... Everything- Not that anything will happen! Just..."

"Yeah," Tommy smiled. "I know. Thank you. I'll be back in a few minuets."

Felicity smiled, patting his bicep before heading to work.

Tommy took a deep breath, stepped into the elevator and let it out as the door shut. He had called ahead, telling his father that he wanted to talk with him. Malcolm, even in his very busy day of destroying the city, accepted, as Tommy had not spoken with him since he had invited him and Laurel to dinner, since he tried to have Tommy sigh to save the clinic demolished. The man had unfortunately been at his office but having him there at least meant that Tommy had a good excuse for entering the building and he could leave quicker than say meeting up for lunch. Tommy passed with ease, Felicity pretending to be a currier from Big Belly Burger, beside him.

Tommy took one last deep breath as he reached the second to the top floor, he let it out. His eyes opening as the door pinged open.

Malcolm stood from his desk, a smile across his lips. "It's good to see you again."

Go to hell. "Yeah, you too," Tommy stepped out, taking a seat opposite the desk as his father ushered him to do so.

Malcolm sighed in relaxation as he sat down. "I really did not expect you to call. I'm sorry for what I tried to do..." his smiled fell. "It's just that, since your mother died, I've hated that building. It got to me and it shouldn't have, and I'm sorry for that."

Tommy nodded. "I know but that building was important to her, so were the people who would be suffer if it was gone. You can't hate the place or the people, or hurt them. It's not their fault." Malcolm kept the expression, Tommy was pretty sure he was just putting it on to make himself look good. That Tommy would never find out what he was planning. So, he added; "It's not what she would have wanted."

Malcolm's eyebrows twitched at that. Tommy had hit a nerve.

"Just say you won't destroy it."

Malcolm smiled. "I won't."

Tommy had to look down. He hoped his father would take it as Tommy just thinking and not holding down the urge to leap across the desk and punch him, and Tommy had never been a violent person. He always had a knack for talking his way out of trouble, Moira had said it was because he had grown up with Ollie, but right now, archer assassin or not, he wanted to beat him till all his anger was gone.

"Thank you."

"It's okay. I should have never even thought about it."

It was almost like Malcolm was trying to break him, instead of the other way around. He had to keep this going.

They spoke about a few things, like where he was living, what he did in his spare time, about Laurel, his work, which lead to how Oliver was.

"He's fine. Slade is a really good guy for him... I never thought I would say something like that but I'm happy for him."

Malcolm nodded. "That's good to hear. How are the rest of the family."

Oh, how is Moira, you mean? Has she heard from her husband since the Hood got him back? Tommy was prepared for this, he had gone over what Slade had told him enough times to leave the words burned in his brain. "She's been really upset about Walter lately. She has arranged for her, Thea, Ollie and even Slade and Thea's boyfriend to leave the city for a few days. They're going today, Ollie had no idea where but he said it would be for a few days."

Malcolm nodded again, humming.

The man should not pay too much need to know where Moira is if he thinks she had ran away.

Tommy saw his moment. "Which means I'll be working tonight. Down at the club."

Malcolm's head jerked up. "I'm sure they will be fine. You should come home, we'll have dinner."

"I'd like to but without Oliver and Thea's boyfriend, they will be short staffed. Plus, it mean Laurel will be working late and so will her father, so I was thinking that after, we would all have a late dinner at a diner," There. They would all be in the glades. "We have not spoken in a while, so since then, I've really started to get to know Laurel more, along with her family and friends," More fuel to the fire, more guilt. "And I've realised that..." his eyes fell shut. He felt the warmth in his chest, his gut becoming one big knot. Now was not the time but he knew it to be true. "I love her."

Malcolm blinked and after a few seconds he smiled. "I'm happy to hear that. Are you sure that you and her could not pay me a short visit today? I would love to see her again."

Nothing to save Lance? Well, Tommy should have been thankful that at least his father wanted his girlfriend to be safe too. Oh, was that sarcasm?

Tommy had not meant to poke the bear with this subject but at Malcolm's question. He got an idea. He looked over to the clock. Nearly Three. He wanted to give Slade all the time he could, but not too late, as that would look suspicious if he had work. "Well, I have to get back to work soon. Sorting out the last shipment. But Laurel and I can come by about half six, stay till seven?"

Malcolm grinned, large and showing off his white teeth. "That sounds great."

Tommy smirked. Now they had a time.

"This is insane!"

Tommy and Felicity looked at each other at the yell coming from the police station offices. They continued to the double doors where Shado stood guard.

"Just in time," she said, reaching for the handle. "The fun has just started."

The doors revealed that then entire Starling city police department, with the title of detective or higher, including SWAT, the bomb squad and a few members of A.R.G.U.S., were stuffed in to the large but not that large, room. They were about seventy people, all clearly shocked, some angry, most were yelling as they stood, squashed between desks.

"Follow me," A voice said, which turned out to be Diggle. He lead the two of them to the one end of the room, just before the door that lead to the little kitchen for coffee. There was Slade, who had shed his swords, and allowing everyone to voice their concerns, for the time being. Next to him was Lance, on his other side Lyla, who was speaking with a rather distressed looking Police Commissioner Brian Nudocerdo. Behind them was Oliver, Roy and Thea, who looked to be having a three-way argument amongst themselves, in hushed whispers.

Slade saw them and waved them over, also walking up to meet them as they entered the clearing.

"Did you get it?"

Felicity nodded. "I don't understand it but yeah, I got it," she handed the Aussie the portable hard drive.

"We also have a time," Tommy said, following Slade to a desk where Felicity's laptop sat.

Slade paused, his eyes returning to them. "A time?"

"I told him that I would be in the glades all night, not including six thirty, where Laurel and I would come and see him for a half an hour at the house."

Slade just looked at him for a few seconds before his face broke out in a huge smile. He chuckled as he grabbed hold of Tommy's shoulder. "That's using your head."

Lance watched as Slade turned back to the laptop, bending over the desk and staring intently at the design prints that looked completely foreign to him, then again, he had never been any good with wiring. He approached Tommy.

"You did well. I know that must have been difficult but thank you."

Tommy smiled. "So... Everyone knows everything."

Lance snorted. "Yeah. Earthquake machine, go figure."

"Have you told Laurel?"

Lance shook his head. "You know her. She would not leave even then, she would get every one she knows and passes, out. That's what they're arguing about," Lance said, jerking his head to the upset men and women. "We can't tell anyone, else everyone will know and panic."

Tommy nodded.

"They also know Moira's involvement but not you're father's. We can't have them going off and..."

"Yeah," Tommy caught the drift. Well, at least that explained why no one was trying to kill him.

"It's not your fault."

Tommy nodded. "I know. Just feels like I should have known."

"You're helping us to stop this, that's all that matters now," Lance told him. "Out of all the man who have dated or tried to date Laurel. You're the only one I would consider family."

Tommy blinked. He smirked. It felt this was the end of the world and everyone was saying what they needed to say, first admitting that he loved Laurel, now this. He met Lance's eyes. "That's means a lot."

Slade stood straight with a sigh.

"Is it bad?" Felicity asked from where she stood next to him.

Slade ran a hand through his hair. "Pretty bad."

"What do you mean it's pretty bad?" Commissioner Nudocerdo demanded, braking away from Lyla.

"Nothing we can't deal with," Slade said, "It's just not going to be as easy as I would have hoped."

Nudocerdo nodded. He turned to his men. "Everyone, quieten down!"

As people continued to argue with each other, Lance stepped forward. "Listen up!"

Slade added a double toned whistle for good measure.

The majority stopped, which was just enough for Slade to speak.

"Alright," he called out. "We can stop this," the room fell silence, which in contras was very unnerving but Slade did not even blink. "I know how to shut this thing down, and just in case, I have a hell of a lot people who can help me. We have three issues however," He raised a finger. "First, it's set off with a remote. Now, as I've already said, the guy is also that dark archer bloke. So to hold him off, we'll fight him, archer to archer."

This brought up the whispers.

"How are we going to get the Hood to fight him?" One Captain called out.

"We've already got in contact, he'll help us."

The whispers continued. It was no real secret that many of the police force supported the Hood's work, most of the city did, but asking for it? That was completely different. He was still a vigilante after all.

"These are special circumstances," Which took a long while for Slade to get Commissioner and Lieutenant Pike to agree to.

Tommy looked over to Oliver. He had told him before how the dark archer had nearly killed him. Why did he look so confident? And would he kill his Malcolm? Even after all his father had done, Tommy would admit that the idea pained him.

"Brilliant piece of news, we know that the attack will most likely happen at half six to seven, this is the only time slot he will have unless he wants to kill a member of his family. regardless, we have the location, so we need to get to the machine and be at it, ready to go as soon as possible. And that's where the hard part comes in. Lucky for us, he can't just start it at anytime, it's a machine that needs to..." He dragged the 'o', trying to think of the right way to explain it. "Basically warm up. Which could take five minuets to half an hour. The reason he will likely leave warming up the machine until he needs it, is because that is the only point where it will be exposed enough for me to disarm it."

Slade looked out. The people were worried, some scared, and a lot angry but they were all listening.

"The last problem we have is that this work confirms that there are two machines," He whistled again as they started to speak up. They stopped. "This only means that someone else is going to have to go down with me to go handle the other machine, as we want to disarm them at the same time, or pretty much, as according to this, they are both in sync. They both warm up at the same time and if one is shut down, the other will go off minuets or seconds later. The paused will be enough to cut that last wire or whatever, so no worries. Plus, we will be communicating with each other and all of you at all times."

"I'll go," Lance spoke up.

Everyone turned to him.

Quentin shrugged. "You said yourself, even if you had no idea what you were doing, we will have cameras and walkie-talkies. So, if we do everything at the same time, we'll be fine."

Slade tapped the wooden desk with his knuckled, smiling as Lance rolled his eyes. "Alright, but if you wet yourself, you have to send me a picture on instagram."

"Wow, you're in the twenty-first century. Well done."

Slade laughed, throwing an arm around Lance's shoulders and pulling him to his side. "Did you know they have porn on the internet now? Brilliant."

Lance rolled him eyes again.

"We'll head off as soon as," Slade said, pulling his arm back. "We just need to get set and we'll be on our way."

"Well, what if it doesn't work," Detective Rivera spoke up. "If it warms up and you can't disarm it, then what? Hm? There'll be no time for anything else."

"We need to evacuate the glades," Another Detective added.

"The only way we could possibly do that is if we broadcasted it on TV," Slade explained. "He'd just set it off straight away. To hell with the naturel disaster plan."

"My wife works downtown!"

"My brother lives there!"

"What about my daughter?!"

Slade pressed his lips together. This was not going to be easy.