Implications

CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama
Language: some
Violence: no
Nudity: none
Sex: none
Other: none

Author's Note:

This chapter would not exist without the valiant efforts and brilliant mind of the Dark Empress Ravenia. If you get tired of waiting for my butt to put out a G&B chapter, remember to check out her stories, and leave her a strong incentive to update faster! Or, if you're having a bad day, check out the crack on the BloodRavens Live Journal page!

(PS: Empress was NO HELP on the title for this chapter! It was called "The Dark Empress Chapter" for lack of something better...)

I have had to make up a name for a character who... doesn't seem to ever have had one. No, I can't tell you who it is, it's a surprise.

Hector Sieko is entirely made up by me. If you like him and need a lawyer, please feel free to borrow him for your fandom. As to how to pronounce his name, well, it's just like it's spelled. p

Implications

==#==

"Mr. Merlyn, there is a Detective Lance here to see you."

Tommy frowned at his intercom. Why would Laurel's father want to see him? "Send him in," he replied.

The detective sauntered in a moment later, eyeing the expanse of the office with a sour grimace while Tommy finished signing off on some paperwork.

"Can I help you?" Tommy asked him in cool civility.

"I was wondering, 'Mr. Merlyn,' if you could come downtown and answer some questions about the Vigilante."

"Now you want to hear what I have to say about it?" Tommy's brows went up a notch. He didn't move to rise, but pulled another contract from his inbox.

"The task force has been reinstated, and we need to follow up on any and all leads. No matter how far-fetched," Lance added.

"Why can't I just answer these questions now? I doubt my answers will have changed since the last time."

"Oh, would that be the time you told me Oliver Queen was the Vigilante, or the time you told me you had no idea who it was?" Lance sniped.

Tommy didn't rise to the bait. "I told you, all the evidence you need is in the club basement." He scanned the papers in front of him. "I'm a busy man, 'Detective Lance.'" He gave the man's name and title the same undercurrent of disrespect that Lance had given him a few minutes ago.

"Don't you get a lunch hour?"

Tommy glared up at him. Lance made a visible effort to retain a neutral professionalism. "We would like you to come down to the precinct to give an official statement."

Tommy leaned back, tapped a key on his computer, and checked his afternoon schedule. "I can clear up some time around 2." He looked up expectantly when Lance didn't answer right away.

Probably because he was chewing on rocks trying not to say something bitingly sarcastic. "We'll see you then," he ground out, then turned and left.

==#==

"Dad, I need to go to the police station at 2."

Malcolm looked up, his face creasing in concern. "Police station? What for?"

"They want an official statement about the Vigilante," Tommy stated simply, and turned to head off.

Malcolm rose from his seat, now thoroughly alarmed. "Tommy...! Please reconsider. Don't tell them about Oliver."

Tommy turned back. "I already told them. If I change my story again, Laurel's dad will never believe another word I say." He grimaced; Quentin Lance had always been... well, prickly when Tommy had been around his daughter.

"I just don't think you've thought all the consequences through," Malcolm explained. "You could be implicated, as his friend - former friend, anyway. And didn't you help hide his identity once or twice? That's Obstruction of Justice if nothing else."

"I'm willing to face up to what I've done."

Now it was Malcolm's turn to grimace. Tommy was so willing to face the consequences for his actions, something Malcolm had been avoiding for years. But Tommy had the advantage of youth, as well as the naivete. "That would be bad for the company," he pointed out.

Tommy quirked a brow. "Obscuring Obstruction of Justice would be good for the company?"

"I know you believe killing is wrong, Son. That's your prerogative. But just last night, you admitted to the good the Vigilante has been doing for the city. Is that not worth something?"

"He killed a guy," Tommy said with an angry frown. "A guy that was not a 'rich scumbag.'"

"That wasn't Oliver's fault."

"How was it not his fault that he put an arrow on that bow, drew it, and fired on that guy?"

Malcolm bit down his words. "I... I can't tell you that." The police were going to be asking questions; Tommy might let something slip. Malcolm couldn't give him this information, not now.

Tommy just looked confused, suspicion darkening his eyes. Before he could voice another question, Malcolm stepped in. "Please, try to let go of your anger, your vendetta towards him. What would Amanda say? Vengeance is not the answer." Tommy seemed to have taken a liking to Amanda Chen. Perhaps he would listen to her words of advice. "It won't bring you peace."

"It's not vengeance," Tommy insisted. "It's right and wrong."

"And I think your anger towards Oliver may be clouding your judgement."

"Vigilantism is illegal."

Malcolm spread his hands. "So is driving your car over the speed limit. That never seemed to bother you."

"I don't kill people doing that."

"You could."

Tommy had nothing to say to that. He looked guiltily at the floor. "It's not the same," he said, more subdued.

"You're right. He sets out with the intent to kill. That's what you see; that's what bothers you. But that's not all, Tommy. Laurel left you for Oliver. And Moira... well, Moira..." Malcolm stumbled; the words wouldn't form. Not easily. "You know what happened there, between her and I." He swallowed, pushed his own feelings aside. He had to reach Tommy. He looked into his son's eyes.

"These things made you angry. They make you want to lash out, to punish Oliver. Then you took Queen Consolidated away from him, and Moira. Is that not enough? Where will it end, Tommy? Once vengeance takes hold of you..." Tommy couldn't meet his eyes through the intensity of his words. Malcolm found he, too, had to look away. "Once vengeance takes hold of you," he continued softly, "it will never let you go. Never let you rest. Never be enough."

He recognized this truth. Hell, it described his life for the past twenty years. Yet still, he could not just let go. How could he? It would make everything he'd done meaningless. But he could turn Tommy off this path, perhaps with help from the love of a woman. Amanda Chen's words rang true within him. "Only forgiveness gives you peace." He closed his eyes.

Tommy stood silent a moment or two. Then quietly he asked, "You forgive Moira?"

Malcolm took a breath. Her words still hurt, like a sword wound. "She had her reasons," he confessed. "I'm not... always the most honorable man." He turned back. "I still... remember when we were friends. I don't want to see her hurt more. Tommy, getting Oliver investigated, arrested... incarcerated, even executed - is that what you really want?"

Tommy pursed his lips. "You still love her?"

Malcolm looked at the floor, exhaled. "Perhaps I am soft-hearted," he confessed. Then he looked up. "Tommy, please don't talk to the police."

Tommy blew out a long breath, raked a hand over his hair. "They came in here and asked me to give a statement. They're the police; that's not an invitation you can just turn down."

Malcolm quelled the panic rising in his chest. "At least take a lawyer with you. Let me call Hector." He turned and grabbed his phone.

"Dad, I don't need a lawyer for just some simple questions."

"But-"

"Look, I won't pin anything right on Oliver. I'll just tell them what I remember about seeing the Vigilante."

Resigned, Malcolm nodded. "All right." That would have to be enough.

==#==

Lucas stood in the observation room next to Quentin, watching Officer Daley escort Tommy Merlyn into the interrogation room. "I can't believe you got him to just come in, and without lawyering up."

"He wanted to tell me all about the Vigilante; I said I wanted to ask him about the Vigilante."

Lucas quirked a brow. "You lied to him?"

"Naah! Besides, it serves him right for all the bullshitting he's done his whole life." Quentin gulped the dregs of his coffee, chucked the styrofoam cup, and headed out.

Shaking his head, Lucas followed him to go grill Tommy Merlyn.

==#==

The cops weren't joking about getting a complete official statement. Tommy gave his assent to be recorded, stated his name, blah blah blah.

Detective Lance started. "Where were you the night Tyler Frost was killed?"

"I was working late. Then I had a dinner meeting at 8 o'clock. I went home about 10." He hadn't witnessed anything to do with that shooting. He hadn't even had contact with Oliver that night or... for some time now. It was going to be easier than he thought to go with his father's request. If they wanted info on the Vigilante's activities since Tommy had quit the club, they were out of luck.

"Who else was at this dinner meeting?"

Tommy frowned. "I don't see how that's relevant...?"

"To corroborate your story," Lance said.

"It's not a story," Tommy retorted.

Lance's partner, Hilton, said, "It's standard procedure, Mr. Merlyn."

"Fine. I was with Amanda Chen."

"Can anyone confirm you went home and stayed home all night?"

Did Lance just ask if he was sleeping with Amanda? The gall! "No," he bit out. "Look, I don't have any information on the more recent Vigilante activities."

"All right," Lance said mildly. "Let's go over the first time the Vigilante appeared. You were there, correct?"

"You mean when those goons grabbed me and Oliver? If that's the first time, yeah."

"In the statement you gave back then, you claimed to be unconscious the whole time, while Oliver Queen claimed he saw, and I quote, 'some guy in a green hood' assault and kill the men who kidnapped you."

"Yeah," Tommy agreed vaguely. "I mean, I was unconscious. I can't exactly verify that."

"But you can verify that the 'man in the green hood' was at Merlyn Global the night someone tried to assassinate your father. Because he's the one who convinced you to perform a blood transfusion."

"He saved my father's life," Tommy said. Another point for Oliver. Perhaps his father had been right, after all?

"Detective McKenna Hall can place the hood guy there, but no one else seems to have seen him arriving or leaving the building."

Tommy shook his head. "So? He was there. He snuck past you guys."

"Past all the police officers, the EMT's, the guests and witnesses swarming around the building? And how do you suppose he managed that?"

"I don't know. I certainly wasn't looking for him at the time." He shrugged. "Maybe he took the costume off and walked out with the rest of the people there."

"Hrm." Lance narrowed his eyes a moment, then shifted his attention to his notes. "When Adam Hunt was attacked, you were at a big party in the building next door."

"Yes," Tommy said, a crease deepening between his brows. "Oliver Queen's coming home party."

Hilton chimed in. "Do you have a guest list of all the attendees of that party?"

"Well... no. Including all the thrill-seekers who crashed it? No."

Lance said, "You were also supposedly at a party Queen held at his place when he was under house arrest. At the same time the GPS tracker placed Queen at his premises, the Vigilante was seen across town, busting an illegal arms deal."

"Well, that clearly wasn't him." Tommy bit his lip. Should he used this opportunity to change his story? No, he had to tell the truth. "Clearly, he has an accomplice."

"Can anyone verify your whereabouts at the time of that incident?"

"My whereabouts?" He looked from one detective to the other. They both wore identical poker faces. "Are you trying to say you think I'm the Vigilante?"

Hilton said, "Just answer the question, Mr. Merlyn."

He was so tempted to spit at Lance that he'd been with your daughter, but he refrained. "No, I think I'm done with this charade." He stood. "You have any further questions, I'll get you the number of my lawyer."

==#==

Hilton clicked off the recorder and gathered it up. "Well, that went nowhere."

"He said the Vigilante had an accomplice. Nobody knows about the black arrows. We kept a tight lid on that." Thanks to Nudocerdo trying to cover up the fact that Starling had two different murdering archers. He'd wanted to hide it from the public, which Quentin had refused, but... it did make for a nice trap.

"That's kinda an obvious explanation, if one is presuming Oliver Queen is the Vigilante," Hilton pointed out.

"But it makes sense, doesn't it?" Lance argued. "Queen is the green guy, and his partner Tommy is blackie."

"And this 'hostile takeover' is just a smokescreen for a big merger, and the whole Queen and Merlyn fallout is all staged?"

Lance snorted. "Now who's making up crazy conspiracy theories?"

Hilton shrugged.

"It's more likely, they worked together... they had a falling out... now Merlyn murders someone to put the heat on Queen. You know, up until then, the Vigilante had pretty good public sympathy."

The detectives chewed that over as they returned to their desks. Hilton labeled and filed the recording while Quentin started typing up the report. When his partner returned, he said, "You know, Tommy did work at Verdant. Maybe he left something behind in that basement. Some clue."

"Not if he keeps insisting on it. Maybe it's a red herring."

"Or, Tommy Merlyn rolling on Oliver Queen after their little spat." Just like two drug runners - allies one night, giving up their former friends the next. "I'm going to try for another warrant."

"Good luck with that," Hilton said dryly.

==#==

"Another warrant to search the same premises?" Judge Judy Moss was saying as Quentin followed her through the courthouse hall. "For the same reason? Really, detective. There's no precedent."

He opened his mouth to pursue his argument, but another voice cut him off.

"That's harassment."

Quentin would never have believed the voice of his baby girl could make him wince. But when she was in full lawyer mode... "I have a statement from a former Club Verdant employee," he tried.

The judge looked as if she might be willing to hear him out, but Laurel said, "And would this 'former employee' be Thomas Merlyn?"

Quentin groaned.

"Who you know has a grudge against Oliver Queen."

Moss crossed her arms as she watched the tennis match. "This is interesting. I've never had a lawyer pleading a case against a warrant. But in my chambers, please." She turned to go through her private door.

"Laurel, please. Will you just let me do my job?"

"Really, Dad? Your job is to find the Vigilante. Stop persecuting my boyfriends!"

==#==

Down the hall, a young man sat under guard, awaiting his arraignment. His ears perked up. Vigilante? Boyfriends?

"Come along, Sigmund."

The man, whose name was not Sigmund, gritted his teeth and rose. He followed his lawyer to the courtroom.

"You remember your role," the thin man prompted.

"Yes," he answered meekly.

"Good."

The young man's thoughts tuned out the dull drollery, focusing instead on that crazy tidbit of soap opera drama he'd overheard. What it could mean. It could be oh so important.

Again, reality intruded upon his thoughts, as the court bailiff's voice rang out.

"The District Court of Orange County; the City of Starling vs Sigmund Hinklewort, also known as 'Count Vertigo,' on the appeal to rescind sentencing is now in session; the honorable Judge Judy Moss presiding. All rise."

==#==

Count Vertigo had had a surprise visitor come to his cell in Iron Heights. He'd been transferred there after he'd recovered from what Dr. Mengele had him doped up with, after the Vigilante had dosed him with pure Vertigo. Then the Vigilante had killed the doctor, which, truth be told, had been doing a favor for the Count, but that didn't clear the debt between them, no.

"Sigmund Hinklewort," the visitor said mildly. He was a tall, well-dressed man; thin, with receding silver hair and colourless eyes. His nose was sharp and beaked, like some form of large prehistoric bird. "I'm your new lawyer." He passed a business card through the bars.

"Lawyer?" The Count blinked a few times at the card, because he could have sworn the printed text said 'Hector Sicko.' Then he realized the C was an E, and wondered if it was actually pronounced 'psycho.' Either way, the Count decided he liked the man. Or was jealous of his name, at least. "I didn't hire any lawyer."

"No, I've been retained on your behalf by a wealthy benefactor."

"Who?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

The Count didn't know any rich people, did he? Drug runners wouldn't be so benevolent. Though there was that time Oliver Queen tried to buy Vertigo from him. The police showed up two seconds later, so the Count had pegged him as an informant and dosed him in retribution. But in hindsight, Queen had rabbited with the rest of them, through a hail of bullets. That wasn't standard police protocol for retrieving their informants. Still, he'd never seen Queen after that incident, so it's not like they'd become business associates, let alone 'friends.'

Sieko was saying, "The date of your appeal has been set. Here is the draft of your statement."

"Appeal?"

"Sigmund... may I call you Sigmund?"

"I prefer 'the Count,' actually."

"You have suffered undue duress, Sigmund, due to the actions of a wanted criminal. You suffered further atrocities under the man who was supposed to care for you."

Count Vertigo gritted his teeth and saw green blotches on the edge of his vision. Normally, people saw red when they got angry, but the Count was a special case.

"Surely the Justice System can't expect you to be further punished. That would be inhumane."

"Get out of jail? Appealing. But then do what?" The police had confiscated all his money. The IRS probably had it now, the vultures. Always getting a cut in the end, for all those back taxes he owed. He always chortled at that line on the tax forms: 'income from illegal activities.' Who would be stupid enough to actually fill that in?

"Once you are free, your benefactor has a 50 thousand dollar grant, to help you get back on your feet."

The Count's eyes widened at the figure. So good. So untrue! "Once I'm free?" he scoffed. "Oh, that's funny. What does this oh-so-benevolent benefactor want in return?"

The thin man spread his hands. "Nothing."

"Hah! You expect me to buy that? Tell me what he wants, or there's no deal." The Count turned away. Better not to let that lawyer see how much he wanted this.

"There's no deal, Sigmund. I'm your lawyer, and I'm setting up your appeal. Don't you want to be get out of here?"

"Still not buying it. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid." He paced the length of his cell. So tempting... but no. "There's no way the court will grant your appeal if I don't cooperate, Mr. Psycho."

Sieko considered a few minutes, his thin mouth nearly vanishing as he pinched his lips. Then he stepped closer, closer to the bars, his eyes fixing the Count like two stilettoes. The Count felt a chill, an instinct warning him to move away, but he refused to be intimidated. What could this tall twig do to him, really? With the bars in the way, protecting him. He had to tip his head back to maintain eye contact as Sieko loomed over him.

Then those colourless eyes flicked past him. The Count half turned, glancing towards the drawings taped to his wall. Crude crayon scribbles of green and red, full of fury and revenge. Sieko's voice was a dry whisper. "Are you familiar with the concept of 'the enemy of my enemy'?"

The Count narrowed his eyes. Ah, now it made sense. A fellow Vigilante-hater. Did the Count want to be a cat's paw for this mystery person? He tasted the concept on his tongue. He found it good. "Yes," he said. "So that's it? Once I'm 'free,' I can just take my 'grant' and re-start my old business?"

"As your lawyer, I must advise against undertaking any illegal activity."

The Count snorted.

"But, yes."

"All right; I'm in." He sketched a semi-mocking bow. "I am at your disposal."

"Study your statements, Sigmund. I'll be back to discuss our courtroom strategy in more detail."

"I'll be waiting, Mr. Psycho."

==X==