Chapter Fifty-Five

Earlier that evening…

Superman landed lightly on the rooftop closest to the Daily Planet and retrieved his clothes from where shoved them into a duffle bag he liked to keep stuck down a commercial air vent for when he needed to make a quick change. With just a thought, the Kryptonian bio-tech armor that made up his suit began to dissolve until all that was left was the 'S' symbol on his chest which then glowed a soft blue, turned white, then transformed itself into what appeared to be a normal plain white undershirt.

His 'suit' had been with him from the beginning. His parents, Martha and Jonathan Kent, found it wrapped around him like a blanket inside the pod that traveled the 27.1 light-years from his home planet of Krypton to the Kansas cornfield where they found him. Of course, it was, in actuality, much more than a simple blanket.

According to the educational matrix his biological father had left him, the world of his birth orbited the red sun 'Rao', known to Earth physicists as red dwarf LHS 2520 in the Corvus system. The sun itself gave off very little heat or light, it being a dim but ancient star nearly thirty trillion years older and less than 1/10th the size of Sol, so the Kryptonian people relied heavily on the planet's superheated core and greenhouse gases to sustain life upon their world. As Krypton became more and more unstable, their scientists developed various biologically based technologies to try to counter the effects of the rapidly cooling planetary core. They built domes and artificial environments in which to grow food, manipulated their own DNA so that their people could better adapt to their environment and absorb the dying sun's rays more efficiently, and wore the nanite based symbiotic 'material' that was cued to their specific DNA not only as a both a symbol of their rankings and houses but also as functional battle armor and survival gear.

Even though it was ancient tech, it was far more hardy than any Earth-based material. It was capable of withstanding just about any type of punishment, could act as a 'pressure suit' in the vacuum of space and maintain his oxygen levels, and, quite literally, it fit him like a second skin. In addition, it allowed him to both monitor his biological systems and repair wounds at a cellular level. He didn't get hurt often, his near-invulnerability a side effect of the yellow sun and his own complex DNA that allowed him to become a living solar battery, but when he did get hurt it would begin healing any and all wounds almost instantly. Best of all, because the armor was linked to him, just a thought would activate it and morph it into whatever type of clothing he needed as long as it was formfitting. He couldn't, for example, morph it into a jacket or coat as he had to maintain at least some skin on skin contact with the nanites in order for them to function correctly. He usually just chose to wear it as an undershirt or Henley, so when he did need to 'change' all he need do is remove his outer clothing and will it into being.

He wished he could get it to morph into regular clothes though, he thought as he shook out his khakis. They were even more rumpled then they had been before he was 'called to duty' in order to stop a bank robbery downtown and that was saying a lot. At least he now had a Superman story to turn in, he reasoned, even though it felt a bit skeevy to report on himself.

"I have seriously got to figure out a better system for this stuff," he grumbled as he stepped into them then hastily threw on his blue plaid shirt, plain gray knit tie, and slightly threadbare olive green corduroy sportcoat. He stuck his round dark rimmed glasses on his face, shoved his fingers through his hair to bring it into some semblance of order, then reached for his equally rumpled trench coat, quickly slipping it on and straightening the lapels only to pull back in disgust as a pigeon chose that moment to gift him with a present.

"Aw, great," he grimaced as he looked around for something to wipe it off with but standing as he was on a rooftop, there weren't too many options. Seeing no other choice, he let it go and glared at the white streak of pigeon crap on his shoulder. "Too bad they don't have telephone booths anymore," he muttered.

That would be convenient; just pop right in, change clothes, and pop out without having to deal with bird shit or bad weather. Then again, most telephone booths (when you could find one in the age of smart phones) were surrounded by glass so that wouldn't exactly work out very well. He could, of course, put on the speed and change his clothes in a blur of movement, but the unfortunate consequence of that was sometimes in his haste his clothes would tear. He went through three brand new jackets and six shirts before he finally gave up on quick changes except in emergencies (of which there were still many). He made decent money at the paper but he could hardly afford to spend six hundred bucks a week on clothes. Luckily, Jimmy pointed him toward some very nice secondhand shops and a few Goodwill stores in the area so he could afford to expand his wardrobe on a budget.

He stretched his arms out in front of him and grimaced as the sleeves of both his trench and jacket receded and crawled up his arms.

Fit was a separate issue entirely.

Being tall and broad chested with wide shoulders, he often had to buy clothes that were a few sizes larger than what he would normally wear. Were he back home, his mother would have taken them in for him but he'd never gotten the hang of using a needle and thread. Another issue was sleeve length; they were always too short or too long but he tried to at least make sure they were still somewhat professional looking and, luckily, Perry wasn't all that strict about enforcing the dress code. As long as he wore a button down shirt and tie, he could pair them with khakis or jeans as long as they looked halfway decent and weren't ripped or patched all to hell and back. It was a good thing, too; it was hard enough finding regular clothes the correct length without having to worry about finding an off the rack suit that fit. On one hand, the college student shabbiness of his wardrobe helped him maintain his Clark Kent identity separate from Superman but, on the other hand, it would be nice not to have the boss you both respected and admired basically tell you that you look like a slob who needs to comb his hair every once in a while.

Plus, he wasn't overly fond of being looked at like a broke and scruffy man-child living off ramen noodle soup when he was an adult with a well-paying career in his early thirties.

He was going to have to bite the bullet and carve out some time to buy a couple of nice suits then figure out how to keep them protected from the elements when he had to be Superman. Plus, he really needed to start maintaining a much more conservative and professional appearance especially if Edge took over the paper. He had a feeling that he was going to be looking for another job soon so he needed to look like the award winning journalist he was.

He walked to the edge of the building and checked the dark and narrow alley before hopping off the side and landing lightly twenty four stories down so that he could retrieve his bicycle from behind the dumpster. His 'closet' was on top of the old Empire Hotel which had closed years ago but was still considered a landmark. Luthor had been trying for years to get permission to knock it down but, for once, he didn't get his own way. Even for Lex Luthor, tearing down a building that was such an iconic a part of the Metropolis skyline was an impossible feat. His next bid was to try to buy the building from the city and revamp it as office space which, on the surface, didn't make a lot of sense; it would cost more to renovate the building than it would be to just build a new one, but he was determined.

The Empire Hotel, in addition to being a landmark, also separated Metropolis's seedier side from the more affluent parts of the city. The Southside, better known to locals as Suicide Slum, was once an affluent neighborhood built up around the factories and steel mills of Hob's Bay during the post-World War I revitalization that slowly fell into decay and ruin over time as those same factories shut their doors and moved overseas. Suicide Slum was now filled with dilapidated tenement buildings and housing projects, with very few economic opportunities for its residents other than selling guns or drugs. The Empire Hotel had been the last vestige of its former glory but now stood as a signpost to indicate that the purported 'City of Tomorrow' did, in fact, have a dark underbelly filled with gang violence, political corruption, and poverty.

Luthor grew up in Suicide Slum and claimed to want to revive the area by creating more jobs. People were listening to what he was saying so the general consensus was that he was finally going to get his way. He'd even gone so far as to buy or make offers on several structures surrounding the hotel including several low-income tenement buildings. At least half the owners had already sold out while the rest of them were waiting to see if his plan would raise property values thereby increasing the asking price. Of course, once he owned the building he still couldn't alter the structure significantly, and it would cost him millions in asbestos removal alone, but he supposed it had something to do with the billionaire's ego and his unwillingness to lose a fight.

After he bought the building, Clark would have to find another place to hide his duffle bag and bike but, for now, he was just sixteen blocks from The Daily Planet which was far enough away not to be spotted but close enough to be convenient for quick getaways and even quicker returns.

Within a few minutes he was securing his bike with a chain to Bibbowski's Newsstand after waving hello to the owner's brother who was reading a copy of Scientific American.

"Hey JoJo."

"Hello young Mr. Kent!" The other man called out. "So what's the latest news from The Daily Planet's finest?"

"Ace reporter gets crapped on by pigeon," he said ruefully.

"Makes for good compost though," the older man said as he continued to flip through his magazine. "Also there's an article in here this month on how zoos are using animal waste as a renewable fuel source. Our pigeon population could someday be responsible for powering this entire city!

"That may be, but it doesn't do much for me right now except give Perry one more excuse to roll his eyes at me. Excuse me," he said spotting the hotdog vender who always hung around the entrance to The Daily Planet.

"Not at all, young Kent! Go slay your dragons while I continue to pursue my science," JoJo said with a distracted wave of his hand.

He walked up and asked, "Hey, do you mind if I take some napkins?"

"Sure thing, pal," the vendor told him. "After ya buy a dog you can have as many as you want."

"Aw, come on," he said, gesturing towards his lapel.

"Ain't my problem, pal," he tossed back in a strong Metropolis native accent. "I don't do handouts here and them napkins cost money."

"Fine, so much for the milk of human kindness," he muttered, digging for his wallet. "Give me a couple of red hots and a bottle of water." He didn't have time to eat lunch what with the whole bank robbery thing and he had just enough time to scarf down a couple of hotdogs before he ran upstairs to file his story.

The guy took his cash and handed him back his change before dressing his dogs, "You want it dragged through the garden?" He asked, pronouncing it 'GAH-den' and ignoring the 'r'.

"Yeah, with extra relish," he told him.

The vendor fixed the dogs quickly and efficiently, being surprisingly generous with the toppings, before handing them and a small bottle of water over. "Napkin?"

The man behind the cart handed him a single white paper napkin.

"Seriously?" Clark said with a slight scowl. "I bought two dogs and an overpriced water and you're only going to give me one?"

The guy rolled his eyes and handed him a small stack of the serviettes, "You know, you should go buy you a lottery ticket," he said, gesturing toward the bird guano on his shoulder and lapel.

He frowned, "I thought the lottery thing was for dog crap not pigeon crap."

"If you got flyin' dogs taking a doof on your shoulder pal, you got problems that ain't gonna get fixed by a couple of napkins," the vendor cackled at his own lame joke.

"Funny, next time I'm getting my lunch from the pretzel guy across the street," he said before shaking his head and sitting down on the steps of the building. He quickly shoveled one of the fully dressed red hots in his mouth and grimaced as a large glop of relish and some peppers rolled down his front. "Great," he said before wetting a napkin with some water and cleaning off both the bird droppings and the relish. He was about to wet another to finish the job when he noticed Bruce Wayne exit the building along with Lucius Fox.

He snatched up his food and drink and hurried after him, "Mr. Wayne!" He called out, gesturing toward him with the hand holding the hotdog.

Wayne looked up, his eyes narrowing on him for a second before relaxing his stance and saying something to Lucius. The older man nodded and got into the cab which drove off as the other man approached him with a slightly wary look in his eyes.

"Mr. Wayne, my name is-"

"Clark Kent, I know. You were with Ms. Lane at the Miller hearing," he finished for him as his lips curled in slight distaste as he cleared his throat. He gestured vaguely toward his mouth but it took him a minute to understand why.

"Oh, thanks," he said, fumbling with his other hotdog and his messenger bag, "Um, could you…?" He said awkwardly then handed him his hotdog.

Wayne took the paper wrapped red hot reluctantly and waited until Clark swung the strap across his chest and reached in his pocket for a napkin to wipe the relish off the corner of his mouth.

"You also have something…" he indicated his shoulder.

"Pigeon got me," Clark nodded. "I'll get it later. But, ah, just in case you were wondering though, the other stuff was relish, I swear."

The other man opened his mouth for a second but said nothing. He merely looked at him slightly askance, before handing him back his food and reaching in his own pocket for a handkerchief which he used to wipe off his hands, "So Mr. Kent, what can I help you with?" He asked, obviously not planning to explore the pigeon discussion further.

"Yes," he cleared his throat and took a second to examine the man in front of him in return. "Are you okay?" He said with a frown gesturing toward his own cheek to indicate the slight swelling and bruising on his face.

"Slipped on an icy sidewalk," he said tersely. "Now, if you don't mind…"

"Oh, uh, right, I'll just…get to the point then."

"Please do," Wayne said dryly as he checked his watch with a flicker of his eyes.

"Mr. Wayne," he said in a firm but respectful tone, "if you sell the paper to a man like Morgan Edge you'll be tainting the legacy of The Daily Planet; a paper which stands for all of the things that make this country great. This paper has tackled the important issues of the day, even the unpopular ones, by exposing corruption, challenging prejudice, and covering the issues no one else would touch with a ten foot pole. It has always led the way when it comes to hard-hitting news and journalistic integrity. If you sell to Edge then everything this paper has stood for in the last one hundred sixty-nine years of its publication history will be undone."

Wayne gave him an almost long-suffering look, "First off, Mr. Kent, I'm very aware of the history of this paper and no decisions have yet been made regarding the offers made by Galaxy Publications or anyone else for that matter-"

"I think we both know that's not true, Mr. Wayne," Clark said, cutting him off. "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe whoever set Lois up intended to paint a target on the Planet's back in order to hurt your bottom line? That perhaps this is a personal attack on you and Wayne Enterprises as well as the paper?"

"That's a bit far-fetched, don't you think?" Clark admired the fact that the other man maintained his almost bored expression without missing a beat, but the slight narrowing of his eyes told him that, yes, he had. "The Daily Planet has been in steady decline for years and, if I do sell the paper, it will be a business decision, not a personal one. Also, while I do believe that Ms. Lane was the victim of something, I doubt anyone would be so Machiavellian as to attack her just to knock Wayne Enterprise stock down a couple of points."

Depends on who it was doing the plotting, Clark thought to himself. "So do you deny that there is a greater conspiracy at play here?"

"A conspiracy?" He chuckled, "Look Mr. Kent, while I appreciate your fire and drive, I think perhaps you're chasing ghosts."

He felt a twinge of annoyance then, "So you deny that someone is targeting not only the paper and Lois, but also your fiancée?"

"My fiancée?" Again his almost amused smile didn't waver but his eyes grew cold and flinty. "I think you're a bit confused, I'm not engaged to anyone; officially or unofficially."

"Funny, because my sources tell me that you're engaged to your CEO's youngest daughter from his second marriage, I believe she goes by the nickname 'Baby'," he reminded him. "In addition, they inform me that you recently had to bring her back to Gotham following the completion of your business deal with Queen Consolidated because someone informed you of an imminent threat to her life. Do you deny that the same people who targeted Lois are threatening her as well and that it directly relates to the Miller hearing?"

That wiped the smile off of his face entirely.

His entire body language changed at the mere mention of her name. He went from a slightly pompous and condescending businessman to someone considerably more…dangerous.

Wayne's features darkened as he stepped forward into his personal space, his hands clenched at his sides. Were Clark not nearly invincible he might have been tempted to cringe in fear and run in the opposite direction. As it was, he felt a fission of something cold run down his spine even though he knew the other man couldn't possibly hurt him, "I don't know where you got your information, Kent; but I promise you, if you print one word of that, not only will I have you fired, but I'll make it my mission in life to see to it you never work for another paper ever again."

"I don't respond well to threats, Mr. Wayne," he said in an even tone.

"Neither do I," he said in a low growl that was completely alien to the man he appeared to be just a few moments ago, "but, for the record, that wasn't a threat. A threat implies uncertainty and, believe you me," he said in an icy registry, "I can do everything I say I can and more."

Clark looked at him steadily and knew without a doubt that he meant it. Whoever this man was, it wasn't the Bruce Wayne he'd been expecting. This man was intimidating in a way that not even Lex Luthor was; how though, he had no idea. "I wasn't threatening you, Mr. Wayne, nor do I intend on painting a target on an innocent girl's back," Wayne stepped uncomfortably close but Clark held his ground, "but I will get to the bottom of what's going on, one way or the other."

The other man stared at him hard before relaxing his stance slightly, "Why?"

"Why?" He frowned, thrown off momentarily by his question in the same way he'd been when Perry asked, but quickly recovered, "Because that's my job, Mr. Wayne; exposing the darkness to the light."

"Exposing the darkness to the light?" He repeated dryly.

"Yes," he bit out a bit more harshly than he'd intended to but continued, "I'm a journalist, Mr. Wayne; I grew up thinking of journalism as a heroic pursuit. I realize that to men like Morgan Edge and, yes, even you, this might be just another 'business' under your brand but to me this building stands for something, this job stands for something. Lois Lane is damn good at her job and she reported the truth. She doesn't deserve to be chewed up and spit out by some kind of political machine and good people shouldn't lose their jobs because they dedicated their lives to exposing a deeper truth."

Wayne arched an eyebrow at that, "You said you think there's a greater conspiracy at work here; if you don't mind me asking, who or what do you think is at the center of this conspiracy?"

Clark decided to answer him honestly, "Frankly, I think Lex Luthor and his machine had something to do with what happened to her just like he's probably the one who is behind the threats against you and your fiancée."

"Lex Luthor?" He said dryly. "Luthor has been snapping at my heels for years, Kent, but we're just business rivals, same with Morgan Edge just in case he's your next suspect."

"Exactly," he said, choosing to ignore his sarcasm. "I don't know what's going on but all of this begins and ends with Luthor, I'm sure of it. As for Edge, it wouldn't be the first time the two of them were in cahoots."

"Cahoots," the other man muttered with an amused look as he stuck his hands deep in his pockets and assumed a deceptively casual pose.

Clark ignored the blatant sarcasm being leveled at him and plowed on through, "Yes, Mr. Wayne; cahoots. Rumor has it that they go way back, all the way back to their beginnings as street kids living on the Southside. Luthor and Edge have always played well together. Luthor gave Edge the seed money he needed to start his company to begin with and, even all through the Miller thing, Edge's Galaxy News station was heavily supporting Luthor as a possible presidential candidate in the next election even though he has never even once announced his desire to run for public office."

"Wouldn't that give Luthor even more incentive *not* to become embroiled in a high profile conspiracy?" He drawled.

"Or it does the complete opposite," he posited. "Before Miller, Luthor was a joke candidate like Donald Trump was back in 2008. Now that this story has broken nationally, his TVQ is through the roof. Miller is being painted by Edge as a right wing martyr for the cause and Luthor looks like a successful businessman who was being dogged by an unstable leftwing reporter with an agenda. They're turning him into Ollie North and saying that the senate committee tried to serve him up as a patsy but, instead of going along with it, he fought back. You have to admit," he said pointedly, "when the public starts looking at a man like Lex Luthor as the underdog, something is very wrong."

"And how does this circle back to me and mine?" He asked. "I could understand him going after Lois and the paper, even though your logic is flawed at best, but why would he come after my supposed fiancée as well? As far as I know, Baby has never even met Lex Luthor."

Baby again, he thought. Damn it, does this woman even *have* a real name? Who spends their entire life dealing with being called 'Baby' anyway? He got a sudden image of an emaciated little society princess who teetered around on sky-high heels and carried a little dog in a purse, then immediately felt bad for it. According to the impression Perry left him with, this woman was probably somehow developmentally delayed and they probably infantilized her because she had the mind of a small child. It probably explained why they were all so protective of her that they didn't even use her real name or allow the press anywhere near her.

Now he looked at the smug, arrogant countenance of Wayne and, seemingly against his will, began to soften towards him. Not only was the man the patron saint of displaced children who worked tirelessly for his charitable foundation, he also fell in love with an innocent woman with the mind of a child. It should have bothered him perhaps, made him think the man was taking advantage but, instead, it just made him really want to like him even though he was kind of an ass. No wonder he was thinking of doing whatever it took to protect her; especially if she had no way of protecting herself.

He swallowed down the sudden flush of guilt he felt at possibly exposing an autistic woman to intense media scrutiny and soldiered on, "I don't know why they've targeted her, but I intend to find out," he said firmly. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say Luthor was going through her to get to you. It wouldn't be the first time he intimidated people by threatening their loved ones."

Of course, it wasn't really *his* guess but Wayne's; he was merely parroting his own words back to him to see how he'd react.

"I've heard those rumors as well and, as far as I know, no one has ever been able to prove any those allegations against Luthor," he said neutrally.

Clark didn't so much as falter, "Yet. However, just because I can't print it at the moment, that doesn't mean it isn't true."

To his surprise, the muscles in the other man's face relaxed and he pasted on a look of wry amusement, "Fine, tell you what; personally I think you're chasing your own tail with this but if you find any evidence of what you claim, I'll make sure it gets printed. Furthermore, if you share any information you get pertaining to me and mine, I'll even give you whatever quotes you need for your article and an exclusive if and when I do ever decide to get married even if I disagree with where you're going with it." He reached inside of his coat and pulled out a silver business card case and handed him an expensive looking silk embossed card with the Wayne Enterprises logo on the front. "That's my personal cell number, Mr. Kent. It's one I only give out to my closest business associates and family members so consider this an act of trust on my part. Until then," his eyes hardened once more even though his tone remained almost friendly, "keep Baby out of it. She has nothing at all to do with Lex Luthor or this crusade of yours. If you find anything that leads back to her, you come to me first, understood?"

Putting aside his own misgivings about using 'Baby', he channeled Lois and went for cold professionalism instead, "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Wayne, but I think we both know that you're not going to be the owner much longer and if Morgan Edge gets his hand on the paper the last thing he'd be interested in is uncovering the truth," he shot back then tightened his jaw, his conscience screaming blue murder by that point. "As for Miss Fox," he began reluctantly, then paused, "I want you to know I never had any intentions of dragging her name through the mud. I do have some ethics, believe it or not. As long as it doesn't violate the integrity of my investigation I will do my best to shield her as much as possible."

"But?" He prompted.

"But I won't compromise my journalistic integrity even if it does mean getting the inside track." He held out the card to return it but Wayne didn't make a move to take it from him. He shifted uncomfortably, "You do know, however, that if I found this information, then so can one of Morgan Edge's so-called journalists," he told him, meeting his eyes. "And I assure you, they won't be nearly as considerate or as accurate in their reporting as I am and, if it means taking you down a peg or two, your fiancée's reputation will be the first thing on the chopping block right after your own."

Perry's stern and disapproving glare popped into his mind as he came dangerously close to holding the story up as a threat but that wasn't what this was about. He wasn't intending to intimidate him, he was merely reminding him that once Morgan Edge had control of the paper, Wayne and everyone in his inner circle would have targets painted on their backs the second the ink on the contracts dried and, from the look in the other man's eyes, he knew it.

Attempting to take some of the sting out of his words, he drew back the hand holding the card and added, "Look, I get why you're so protective over her; if it was me, I'd feel the same way, but they won't. It won't matter to them that Miss Fox is a victim or that she's…" he fumbled for the right word.

"She's what?" Wayne asked with a hard look.

"Special," he said at last.

Wayne's eyes softened at that and he almost smiled, "She certainly is special, Mr. Kent, but I never said she was my fiancée," he pointed out. "In fact, I specifically told you that I wasn't engaged to anyone."

"Whether you are or not, it won't matter to Edge," he shrugged. "You should know that better than anyone. And, given your…Miss Fox's unique, um," he cleared his throat, "circumstances, it may make her particularly vulnerable to hurtful personal attacks. We both know that the man has no sense of common decency and he's certainly not afraid of lawsuits. If it strikes the right blow he'll just write off the loss as the cost of doing business then use his media empire to spin it so he looks like the victim instead. If he gets his hands on the Planet then we'll be the ones doing the muckraking; he'll see to that personally."

At the reminder of Edge's last attempt to smear his reputation, a cold fury seemed to settle over him once more, "Fine, you made your point. I'll hold off selling to Edge until the Miller thing is resolved one way or the other. That should give you some time to investigate this but, in the meantime, you won't write a word about her, do you hear me?" He said with quiet menace, that grim light returning to his eyes. "I mean it, Kent. I'm not the kind of man you want as an enemy."

"I'll do my best, but if her name comes up as being attached to what happened at that hearing, I can't make any guarantees," he said honestly.

"Noted," Wayne said sternly. "And, until then, I'll do my best to see to it that you keep your job, but I make no guarantees, nor can I guarantee that the next time we meet I will be in as nearly a forgiving mood as I am now," he returned with an intense glare. "And let me add that you're damn lucky that I honestly believe you're a crusader for journalistic integrity and not a extortionist who's only interested in keeping his job."

"This 'job' means more to me than just a paycheck," he said easily, "but I wouldn't want to keep it if it meant losing my soul in the process. Believe me when I say that hurting an innocent woman isn't something I'm interested in doing. This is about protecting her and everyone else who has already been affected by whatever this is that's going on and exposing the truth for what it is." He held out his card to him again, "You should probably take this back."

"Keep it," he told him. "I didn't give that to you as a bribe, Kent; I gave it to you as incentive. No one wants to get to the bottom of this more than I do," Wayne said enigmatically before turning on his heel, "Good luck with your story and I hope to hear from you soon. Have a nice day."

"You, too, Mr. Wayne," Clark said staring after him as he flagged a cab and hopped inside. It was only after the man left that he released the breath he hadn't even known he was holding.

"So that was Bruce Wayne?" He mused quietly as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet to stick the business card inside for safe keeping. He shook his head as he read it before slipping it into an empty slot. "Wow, that guy's…intense."

Especially considering that he just managed to unknowingly intimidate the crap out of Superman without even breaking a sweat.

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

The minute the cab pulled away from the curb, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Sir?"

"Alfred, I need to you put together a dossier on Clark Kent," he said in a low growl.

"Certainly, sir; how soon will you be needing it?"

"Immediately."

"May I ask why?" The older man asked although Bruce knew he was already headed down to the Cave to do as he asked.

"Kent knows things he shouldn't know and I want to find out how."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

She was running.

Hot rain ran down her back and, even if she had kept her glasses, the storm and the dark had left her virtually blind. She could feel the tiny stinging droplets of rain as they cut across her skin and her ears were filled with the roar of the wind and her own heartbeat.

In the distance she could see the old abandoned barracks as lightning lit up the sky and she covered her face instinctively, crying out in alarm as the wind sent a piece of sharp tin flying a bit too close for comfort. The rain, sweat, and blood soaking into her clothes caused them to stick unpleasantly to her skin. She began to pant loudly in fear and exhaustion, breathing in the coppery scent of blood and death that surrounded her, tasting it on her tongue as it invaded her sinuses. Her lungs burned and her stomach lurched but she never stopped, never slowed down.

She ran.

She hurt, everything hurt; her lungs hurt, her muscles hurt, she fell and twisted her ankle causing it to throb and pulse with every footstep but she had to get to Slade. She heard a whimper in the distance, like an animal crying out, and realized it was her.

She caught the glare of a flashlight as someone spotted her and heard a call go out. She dove behind the building and pressed herself hard against the metal siding as sucked the unpleasantly muggy air into her lungs.

It was so hot, too hot. Everything was hot. She was burning up from the inside…

She heard a growl and the bark of a dog, "I thought I saw something! Split up!"

They had dogs? When did they get dogs? She saw the shadowy silhouette of a soldier carrying an automatic rifle pass and tried to make herself as small as possible but the howling and barking kept getting louder. She might be able to hide from them, but not from their dogs. They would tear her apart if she didn't wind up getting shot first.

She needed to get away from there and get to Slade.

The howling wind drowned out the barking and lifted the loose tin of the roof then slammed it down with a hollow metallic crash, over and over again.

CLANG!

CLANG!

CLANG!

The rhythmic pounding almost sounded like an alarm going off.

Her stomach twisted as the wind shifted and she could once again smell the gunman's blood and brain matter on her skin. She used a shaky hand to wipe her hair from her mouth, the other wrapped tightly around the gun, and smelled it all over her hands.

Tasted it on her lips.

She was covered in it.

Soaking in it.

Drowning in blood.

She tried her best not to be sick even as salt water filled her mouth.

She heard it again. The growl against the rhythmic clanging of the loose tin.

The gunman and his dog were coming closer.

"Felicity…."

Her head whipped around and her heart stopped in her chest as the lightning illuminated the sky, the flash glinting against his iris and causing Slade's one remaining eye to burn into her soul.

"No…" she gasped. "No, no, no, no…you can't…" She pressed tighter to the metal siding. "You can't be here."

It felt like something was holding her down. She was frozen in place; paralyzed. A heaviness settled over her chest and the growling increased.

"Where else would I be?" He chuckled, his body hidden in shadow but his voice remained. "We belong together, love. You're mine, remember?"

"No…" she whimpered, her head whipping back and forth in denial. She tried to move her arms, strike out, but they were locked to her sides. She couldn't breathe and she began to shake all over. She looked over Slade's shoulder and saw his men surrounding her, giving her nowhere to go and no chance of escape. They were just shadows, their eyes almost glowing with malevolence in the dim torchlight. She heard the dog's handler shout curses at the enraged animal as it struggled against its lead, snapping at the air and frothing at the mouth in her direction.

"Don't be cross with me, darling," he tutted, "I know I've been a bit negligent in my duties to you, but to make up for it I brought you a present," he told her. "Two of them."

The wind began to howl as the storm picked up and the clanging increased to the point that it was nearly deafening but all she could hear was her own heart beating out of her chest and the incessant barking of the dog. Slade held out his hands, his body cloaked in darkness. She could see the vague round shapes held tight in his gauntleted hands then fire tore across the night sky and she could see, finally see, the gifts he brought her.

Oliver…and Bruce.

He tossed their decapitated heads at her feet and she stared down at their slack jaws and bloody expressions of open-eyed horror forever preserved in death.

"No one takes what's mine," Slade growled, stepping forward to press his length against her and pinning her to the wall of the barracks. He ran his gauntleted finger that was still wet with both Oliver's and Bruce's blood across her cheek, "You belong to me," he said right before his lips descended on hers and she felt his teeth bite through her lip.

Thunder caused the world to shake and bounce under her feet and a keening sound, like that of a wounded animal filled the sky and she realized she was screaming his name.

"Felicity!" Slade grabbed her arms and shook her, "Wake up!"

She tried to struggle but her arms were pinned to her sides and she couldn't move.

She screamed and begged for him to let her go as the howling noise filled the sky.

"Wake up!"

Her eyes opened and she tried to fight but couldn't. There was a weight over her chest and legs, she tried to buck it off but it was no use. The ground beneath her bounced and lurched as she tried to escape.

"Felicity stop moving or you'll hurt yourself!"

"Is she okay? She's bleeding. Ace, get down!"

She heard the growling noise again then the keening howl and looked.

"She just bit her lip. Damn it dog, shut the fuck up!" Renee yelled at Ace from where he was bouncing on the bed and alternating between growling at the two women holding her down and howling in distress. "And shut off that goddamn alarm! Shit!"

"Hey, what the hell is going on in here?" She heard Oliver's voice and turned her head to see him and Dick rushing into the room. "Get off of her!"

"Oliver?" She whispered through her tears as he and Dick glared down at the two women who were basically sitting on top of her.

Dick immediately moved to the nightstand and pulled it open, "Where are her weapons?"

"I secured them as soon as the dog started freaking out," Renee told him.

"They're over there on the dresser," Laurel told him from where she was lying across her legs. She looked up at her, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "Um, could you guys please get off of me now?"

"Why weren't these in the safe?" Dick bit out, checking the guns to verify they weren't loaded.

"I don't know," Renee snapped at him then glared at the dog who was still howling, "Will somebody please shut this goddamn mutt up!"

"They weren't loaded," Laurel told him, also seeming to bristle at his accusing tone.

"Get off of her, now!" Oliver said as he glared between the two of them.

"Hey, back off, Richie-Rich," Renee shot back but slowly let go of her arms and got up off the bed from where she was straddling her chest. "Are you okay now, babe?" She asked, her dark brown eyes filled with concern as she looked down at her.

"Yeah," she breathed then rolled to her side so she could reach up to run her hand over Ace's shoulder as Laurel let go of her legs.

"I'll go get a washcloth," Laurel said as she hurried into the bathroom.

"Are you alright?" Oliver asked, his hand reaching for her face. He looked intently at the split on her lip that she'd reopened and as soon as Laurel returned with the damp cloth he pressed it against her mouth.

"I'm okay," she said, taking it from him as she sat up and dabbed at her lip tentatively. "Ace, hush!" The dog immediately stopped his keening howl and dropped down to his haunches so he could enthusiastically lick her cheek. She lifted her chin to avoid the long swipes of his tongue and scratched him soothingly behind the ears. He plopped down on the bed and stretched out so he could butt his head against her chest then rolled so his head was pressed against her stomach and his paws were draped across her lap. She looked around at all of the faces now looking at her in concern, "Is everybody else okay?" She looked down at the washcloth to check if the bleeding had stopped then put it aside.

"It's not us you should be worrying about," Renee shot back as Laurel handed her a box of Kleenex from the nightstand.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said, sniffling then wiped a tissue over her face that she realized was now damp with tears and sweat, "Uh, why are you guys in my room anyway? And what time is it?" She asked, reaching over to shut off the alarm on her phone and checking the clock.

"Just after nine," Laurel told her just as she saw the glowing numbers on her smart phone. "Renee and I woke up when the dog started barking and came in here to see what was going on."

She looked down at the large dog in her lap in concern and ran her hands over his short silky fur, "Is he okay? I didn't…?"

"He's fine," Renee assured her. "Loud as hell but fine." She shot the dog a dirty look, "For a second there though I thought he was going to take a bite out of my ass. You were screaming and crying out on the bed and when Laurel and I tried to get to you, he stood over you and started snapping and growling at us, basically telling us to back the hell off or else."

"But he didn't…?" She blanched as she ran a soothing hand over the dog's back causing him to moan and shiver with pleasure before worriedly checking her friends for injuries.

"No," Laurel told her. "We managed to calm him down enough so we could wake you up."

"I think if this is going to be a regular thing, you might want to let the dog sleep on the couch next time," Renee said, still looking at the oversized dog warily, "Frankly, I think I'd rather risk getting shot by a nine mil than face two hundred pounds of pissed off mutt any day."

"He's okay," Felicity said flushing as she stroked the dog's soft ears and pressed his head against her chest causing him to pant happily. "He was just a little worried, weren't you?" He huffed out a low 'woof' and lapped at her hand before butting his large head against her for another scratch.

"He was worried? I thought my ass was about to be his new favorite chew toy!" The other woman snorted, crossing her arms over her chest as she plopped down beside her on the bed.

Instead of responding to her, she looked around the room again. Laurel and Renee were still rumpled and dressed for bed, Laurel in a pair of men's style blue and white striped cotton pajamas and the other woman in a cotton camisole and loose pair of men's boxer briefs they picked up at Killinger's earlier that morning. Oliver and Dick, on the other hand, were suited up, minus their masks, and looked like they were just about to head out to go on patrol.

"Why are you guys here?" She frowned looking between the two of them.

"We figured we'd coordinate with the rest of the team before you head out to Orbital," Dick shrugged. "Luke is supposed to be meeting us here in a couple of minutes, so…"

"Why here? Why not at the manor?" She asked them.

"This was closer," he told her.

"This was closer than the manor?" She said dubiously, "The same manor that the two of you are currently staying in?" She narrowed her eyes at Dick's seemingly innocent expression, "We're not supposed to be heading out for a few more hours yet so why are you early and why are you in my room?"

"Yeah, when did you guys get here anyway?" Renee asked, frowning up at the two of them.

"I was right behind Renee and you guys weren't here when we woke up," Laurel added as she moved to sit on the end of the bed next to the other woman. "And since you're suited up I'm guessing you came up through that clock thing Felicity showed us earlier."

"Yeah, we got here a little while ago," he shrugged. "Me and Oliver figured we'd work on setting up the alternate Batcave a little since we were waiting for you guys to wake up anyway."

"So you were downstairs?" Felicity asked. "And you just so happened to come rushing up here just when I was having a night terror?" She pursed her lips as she examined Dick's slightly guilty expression and Oliver's more defiant one. "Cut the feeds and if you messed up my computers I'm going to be so incredibly pissed it's not even funny."

"Feeds?" Laurel repeated, her eyes sweeping the room before pinning both men with her narrowed gaze, "You were spying on us while we were sleeping? Can you even begin to comprehend how utterly creepy and perverted that is?"

"If I find out you two freaks had eyes in my room I'm kicking both of your asses," Renee growled and the dog echoed the sentiment as he lifted his head and looked toward both men threateningly, his lips curling over his bared teeth.

"We weren't spying on you guys," Dick said quickly, "Just…" He gestured towards Felicity helplessly.

"Oh, well that makes it so much better then, doesn't it?" Laurel retorted sharply with a scowl. "It's not us that you're stalking; just Felicity!"

"Asses. Kicked," Renee said slowly.

"Audio, video, or both and did you set it to record?" She asked, placing a hand on the dog's stiff shoulders and briefly wondered what would happen if she said the words, 'sic 'em boy!'.

Maybe it would be something like right out of Stand by Me, as in an 'Ace, sic balls!' kind of deal.

She would be okay with that actually.

"Record?" Laurel asked incredulously, "You were recording her? Wait, you knew about the cameras already?" She turned to Felicity, "So…does that mean you and Bruce are into…?" She asked with a slightly naughty twinkle as she watched her flush crimson, "Well, alrighty then."

"It's not…" she sighed, "It's for security purposes and I cut those feeds weeks ago for a reason." She tilted her head slightly, "That…reason in particular."

"Hey, no judgment," Laurel snickered.

"Still, what you guys do in your bedroom is your own business. You two though… You're a couple of sick…" Renee just glared at them, "What the hell? What if she had been naked?"

Oliver looked completely unaffected but Dick, at least, had the good grace to look embarrassed, "I was just doing what Bruce told me to and keeping an eye out for her."

"While she was sleeping?" Laurel said sarcastically.

"Again, what if she was naked?" Renee asked them. "Unless, of course, Bruce told you to watch his *naked* girlfriend while she slept? I never thought Bruce was the kind of guy who would be into that kind of kink but, hey, what do I know? Either way, unless Felicity was cool with it, that's bullshit and you're all a bunch of perverts."

"Did he ask you to…?" Laurel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course not!" Dick blustered, looking cornered all of the sudden.

"Besides, it's not like I haven't seen it before," Oliver said drolly as he leaned against the armoire.

"See what I mean?" Laurel said, gesturing toward Oliver as she turned to Renee, "That! That right there was a totally asshole-ish thing to say and yet, nope; not so much as a hint of shame."

"Okay, gotcha," Renee nodded to herself then, as if reading her mind, she said, "Ace! Sic 'em!"

The dog immediately went from his relaxed and prone position to nearly two hundred pounds of pure aggression as he leapt to his feet, baring his teeth in a low dangerous growl.

"Hey! Whoa!" Dick said backing off and Oliver immediately went into a defensive stance.

The dog leapt off the bed and barked at them in a deep thunderous tone as he herded them out of the room slowly.

"Get down, Titus!" Dick ordered but the sound of his other name merely made Ace lunge forward aggressively. He moved further back towards the door, his hands held out towards the dog in a calming gesture. "Call him off, Question!"

"Why? It's not like he can hurt you; you two turds have on body armor, remember?" She drawled with an evil smirk. "The worst that can happen is he cracks a tooth on your perverted asses."

"Call him off now!" Oliver told her through gritted teeth.

"Or what?" She asked, cutting her eyes in his direction.

"Just do it!" He ordered as the now very dangerous looking animal snapped at him and continued to bark.

She grinned toothily, "Good boy, Ace; now bite that one in the ass and try not to catch anything. I hear he's been around," she said waving dismissively in Oliver's direction and causing the dog to let loose with several loud barks as his muscles tensed. "Or better yet…hey, you did remember to wear a cup under those leather pants of yours, right Hood boy?"

"Don't make me have to hurt this dog!" Oliver snapped.

"Ace!" Felicity said sharply. The dog abruptly stopped barking and began to whimper as it slunk back towards the bed then plopped on his haunches on the floor between her and Renee.

"Good boy," the other woman said petting the top of his head with an evil grin as her eyes darted between the two now very perturbed looking men. "I think I'm starting to like this mutt after all."

"Okay, enough," Felicity said as she ran both hands over her face and scrubbed slightly before running them over her hair which was damp and frizzy from sweat and sleep. "First off, don't ever do that again," she said looking at both of them but mostly at Dick. "I know why you did it, I get that, but if you ever violate my privacy and trust again we're going to have a serious problem. Not only will I ban you from my apartment and the Cave, but I will go all holy hell on your asses."

"Bruce told me to keep an eye on you," he said stubbornly.

She arched an eyebrow in his direction, "Bruce told you to turn the cameras on that I deliberately disabled? Because, if he did, then that means you and Bruce both are about to have a serious problem."

"You wouldn't…" he looked around uncertainly and sighed, "You wouldn't hand over the guns and I was concerned because Bruce didn't want me to talk to anyone else about what happened to you. I was worried someone might get hurt."

"And I appreciate your discretion," she said with no little amount of sarcasm, "Particularly since half of both teams are now standing in my bedroom while I'm in my nightgown as a result."

"For the record, I didn't know anything about any cameras and I certainly didn't mess with your workstation," Oliver said with a hint of irritation. "We were downstairs in the Lair sparring and, the next thing I know, the sound of you screaming starts blasting over the speakers."

"It's not the Lair, it's the FelicityCave, and I already know you had nothing to do with it," she told him. "Not only have I trained you to stay away from my computers but you've also got to be the only CEO of a major tech company that can't even figure out how to use Facebook. Actually, I'm almost more surprised Dick figured it out because he can barely use the microwave."

"Hey, I've…gotten better at that stuff," Dick flushed.

"And I refuse to call it the FelicityCave," Oliver added. "I'll call it 'the Cave' or 'the Lair', but I'm not calling it that. Besides, it's not a cave, it a…subway thing."

"You're just jealous because Felicity has a whole huge underground subway platform and a set of cool underground tunnels while you have to hang out in the basement of a night club that caters to people who think Brittney Spears' music is classic rock," she said dryly.

"Dude," Renee chuckled shaking her head, "That's just sad."

He scowled at her, "I-!"

"What's going on?" Luke asked ambling inside, "Why's everybody in Felicity's room? What, are you guy's having a slumber party or something?"

"Yes Luke, we're having a slumber party and forgot to invite you," Felicity said, looking towards her brother who was suited up as well with a scowl. "Now, if all of you will excuse me, I need a shower."

"Hey, did you pick up any Pop Tarts or Toaster Strudel?" He asked before catching the look she was shooting him then backing off, "Fine, whatever; I hope you picked up some decent cereal because I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready to get over that crabby attitude of yours, jeez."

"So what else is new?" Felicity muttered.

Laurel sighed and got up off the bed, "I'm going to hop in the shower, too. Are you sure you're okay?" She asked.

Felicity nodded, "I'm fine; I'll be out in a minute."

"A shower sounds good to me," Renee said, getting up as well and stretching. "You know, if either one of you ladies wants to conserve water I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine?"

"Out," Felicity told her as Laurel snickered at her.

"Just trying to do my part for the environment," Renee said off-handedly.

"Hey," Felicity said, catching her wrist causing the other woman to look down at her inquisitively, "I didn't, um…?"

"We're okay, honey bunny; no biggie, I'm good," she assured her. "Vic used to have some pretty tough demons himself and once, when we were coming off a tough case, I tossed my old partner across the room after nodding off on his couch so I knew how to handle it. Shit like this is the cost of being the boss, y'know? We see stuff every day that the human brain just wasn't designed to handle so dealing with the occasional nocturnal freak out is just par for the course in our line of work."

"Thanks," she nodded.

"And anytime you want to check out my loofah skills, you just let me know," she added with a wink.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said dryly.

"Meet you in the kitchen in a few for breakfast?" Laurel asked, coming up to give her shoulder a squeeze.

"Yeah," she said giving her a grateful smile for the fact that neither of them so much as attempted to cross-examine her nor did they try to smother her in well-intentioned platitudes; they merely went about their day as if everything was normal.

Which, given who they were and what they did, it probably was.

"I'll make the eggs," Renee said, heading to the door. "I can make any kind you want as long as it's scrambled. Sometimes I even go all out and add cheese."

"Scrambled is good. Hey, Laurel; make sure Ace has food in his bowl if I don't get there first."

"Yeah," Renee said, tossing Dick and Oliver one last mischievous look, "that reminds me; I owe that mutt a bone."

Oliver and Dick gave her a disgruntled look while Laurel just grinned, "I'll take care of it; c'mon, boy," she called out and the dog happily followed them out of the room leaving only her, Dick, and Oliver behind.

"Go downstairs, cut the feeds, erase the footage, and do it now," she told Dick in an uncompromising tone.

He offered her a pained look, "Baby, I was only trying to-"

"I didn't want to say this in front of Renee and Laurel, I really didn't want to say this in front of Oliver but I already know he has no intentions of leaving the room," Felicity said throwing him a pointed look, to which Oliver arched an eyebrow and got comfortable as if to say 'too right', "but you once took great pride in the fact that you and Bruce were nothing alike and that you were never going to become him," she said pointedly.

"I'm not," he said, taken aback.

Felicity's eyes met his, "Bruce didn't turn those cameras back on, you did. Not only that, but Bruce may not be perfect, but he's at least trying to trust in that I can take care of myself; what's your excuse?"

His mouth fell open and he paused before scowling, "I'm nothing like Bruce! I'm not trying to control everything or implying that you can't take care of yourself, but-!"

"But what? What is it? What has you so spooked, Dick? The guns? The fact that I have blood on my hands? That I'm no longer the woman I was four years ago and you aren't all that sure I can be trusted anymore?" She asked in an almost casual tone.

"Yeah, actually; all of that bothers me," he said boldly as he folded his arms across his chest in the same way Bruce did whenever he was about to lose an argument he didn't want to. "The Felicity I knew and this version of you just don't gel, sorry."

Oliver fell back, the tick in his jaw giving her the impression that he wanted to defend her but was trying very hard to keep out of it instead.

He was learning, she admitted silently.

"I'm sure," she nodded, "Four years is a long time in our world, as well you know. And this is *our* world," she emphasized. "Bruce kept me on the periphery when I was with you guys but a lot has happened since then; some good, some bad, and everybody changes. After all, when you run with masks it's evolve or go extinct and, as someone recently pointed out to me, I'm a survivor and I make no apologies for that. However, that said, if I was a betting woman, I'd say that the biggest thing that bothers you isn't the guns or my willingness to use lethal force when necessary, it's the fact that Bruce and I are together now."

"What? Where the hell is that coming from?" He scoffed, but she could see that hint of something in his eyes that told her she was on the right track.

She drew her knees up to her chest under the covers and stared at him searchingly for a moment, "Don't get me wrong; I know you're genuinely concerned about me and I think, deep down, you want Bruce to be happy but you just don't think it's possible for him to give up the Bat, settle down, and make that kind of commitment, do you?"

"No, I don't," he admitted with a hint of defiance. "I think that, in the long run, he's going to wind up hurting you or hurting himself and, given the fact that you've obviously been through some kind of major trauma, the last thing either of you need to be doing is planning a life together."

She saw Oliver give him a look of grudging approval and stopped herself from rolling her eyes at them both. "So, in order to protect Bruce, you've been keeping an eye on me?"

"It's you I'm trying to protect, not Bruce," he objected. "He can take care of himself, you can't."

She nodded once, "So, again; you think I can't protect myself?"

"No," he huffed in frustration, "I think you have skills both on and off the field; I think you're a damn good mission tech, from what Bruce and Tim told me, and from what I saw last night, I think you can handle yourself in a fight even if I may not agree with your methods, but when it comes to dealing with Bruce? No," he said unapologetically. "I think he'll wind up destroying you, not because he doesn't love you, but because he does. He hurts everyone who gets close to him, Felicity; everyone. He has driven away every woman who has ever tried to love him, every single one including Selena, because he has to have absolute control over everything. You know why she left?" He asked before answering his own question before she could, "They'd been fighting a lot and he was pushing hard for her to retire from being Catwoman and for them to be exclusive. She refused and got shot helping him out. After she recovered, she tried backing him up again and he walled her out, said he didn't want her there, that he couldn't use someone on his team who had an obvious death wish so she left. He told her they couldn't work and made it impossible for them to be together and yet the second she left, he tried getting her back. It's the same push me/pull me bullcrap he tries on everybody but Selena was the only one off us smart enough not to fall for it."

He paused, his expression deadly serious as his eyes met hers, "When he breaks your heart, and he will, when he walls you out or gets you hurt or killed, it won't be like it was with the rest of them because they weren't really family; you are. You're Lucius's daughter, Tam and Luke's sister, hell, every damn one of us; me, Tim, Alfred, Barbara, loves you like you're blood, but every woman Bruce has ever loved has wound up dead or so damn destroyed by him they never recover. He's toxic, Baby. I love the son of a bitch, but I know exactly who and what he is. His last girlfriend, the one he had a while back? Charlotte, I think? She nearly died when she got stabbed in the abdomen then moved to Paris because she couldn't hack being Batman's girlfriend! That's okay though because none of us really got attached but when he hurts you, it's going to blow up in all of our faces."

He took a breath, "And I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm especially worried because it's obvious that, right now, you're not thinking very clearly and that he's taking advantage of you by railroading you into this marriage. Given what happened with the carjackers last night and the other violent episodes you've been experiencing-" Oliver stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides, but Felicity stopped him with just a look. "—I think that someone should be looking out for you since neither you nor Bruce seemed to be capable of thinking rationally."

She tamped down her own irritation to observe Dick's body language carefully, "And what about when Bruce said he was giving up the mission? Was offering you the cowl so he could retire an irrational decision on his part?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "He won't give it up," he told her. "He can't."

She wasn't blind to the fact that Oliver had once again fallen back to wait and see how the conversation progressed. She made a noncommittal noise, "Why not?"

"Because the Bat costume isn't just armor, it's his skin," he told her simply. "Bruce Wayne and his three piece suit is the costume, not the other way around. He tried giving it up before and he's always come back; first after Bane broke his back, then after Damian," his eyes grew haunted. "If you're doing this because he promised you a home and family then you need to get out now because that will never happen; he isn't the man you think he is, Baby. He won't give up the cowl, he won't ever trust himself enough to have kids unless it's to recruit them, and he'll never be able to put you before the mission. I'm sorry, but that's the truth."

She glanced over towards Oliver. He was leaning against the armoire, arms crossed with a smug expression on his face as he waited for what he knew from experience was coming and obviously happy that, for once, it wasn't directed at him.

Not yet anyway.

Enjoy this moment while you can, she thought; because you're next.

She tilted her head and pursed her lips at him before taking a deep breath, "You don't want it, do you?" She asked him.

"Want what; for you to get hurt? No, I don't," Dick said firmly.

"I'm sure that's true, but you also don't want to be the Batman," she said matter-of-factly.

He snorted derisively, "I was the Bat. For over five months I wore the armor, remember?"

"But then he took it back," she said simply.

He shrugged, "So?"

"Did you want to keep it?"

"Of course, but it was Bruce's and he had a right to take it back so I gave it up," he said with a closed-off expression.

She hummed in acknowledgement, "You know, when you went off as Nightwing, I never told you this, but I really liked the design of your costume better than Bruce's."

"Okay." He frowned in confusion, "Thanks, I guess."

"No, really," she said quickly. "Your armor was much more practical, more efficient, streamlined, and, I'm sorry, but that cape has got to be a pain in the ass to get used to. I mean, I know it's a functional part of the costume but, really, that thing weighs a ton and given your skills as an acrobat, it must have slowed you down a lot."

"I got used to it," he said guardedly. "Why are you-?"

She cut him off, "I mean, look at Oliver's costume," she pointed to Oliver who looked mildly surprised that he was being dragged into their conversation. "When I first came onto Team Arrow, I was…frankly, I was less than impressed with his gear."

"Really?" Oliver said with a slightly hurt look.

"No offence," she hurried to tell him. "I mean, you looked good in it, but I was used to guys who wore state of the art battle armor and you do have a tendency to get hurt a lot." He gave her a sullen look but she continued on turning to Dick instead, "If there's one thing about being with Team Arrow that I could change; you know, if I could…go back in time," she said with a thoughtful frown, "I would've come clean about the Batman thing a lot sooner if only to get them better armor. Better armor, but not Bruce kind of armor," she added. "I mean, I did upgrade their outfits a little. I designed Roy's leathers and had extra padding and Kevlar made into the suit and when Oliver had to have his suit remade I added some stuff, but do you know why I never went for full on armor?" She didn't wait for an answer, "Because, like you and Tim, Oliver relies on speed and stamina, not power punches and brute strength like Bruce. In fact, you guys are pretty evenly matched in that regard," she said contemplatively. "Of course, the leather and Kevlar in his suit might not be as good as your full-on armor but, just like you, he mostly uses more acrobatic combat styles like Parkour, Kyudo, Escrima, and Capoeira as well as melee style fighting techniques like Hwa Rang Do and White Crane style Wing Chun. Because of that, he needs something light that allows for speed and ease of movement. Even convincing him to go from greasepaint to a domino mask was a chore because he was afraid a mask might interfere with his line of sight and slow him down."

"So Oliver and I should go get beers later and talk shop; I get it, so what's your point?" Dick asked, looking at her slightly askance.

"My point is this: When you took over for those five months, if you thought Bruce was giving up the Bat and you were the one stuck wearing the cowl from then on, why didn't you modify the costume to better suit your strengths and skills? Why keep that leather and Kevlar cape that weighs a hundred pounds or more? Why keep the bulky body armor? Why not just stay with something more streamlined like you had with Nightwing or something lighter and more tech heavy like what Luke has?"

"Because it's part of who the Bat is," he said with a frown. "It—the suit-is iconic."

"Iconic; good word," she mused. "So if the Bat is so sacred and iconic, why become him in the first place? Why not let the Bat fade away, retire the jersey so to speak, and just be Nightwing?"

His face darkened, "Because Gotham needs Batman, not Nightwing."

"But it had Nightwing," she pointed out. "For five months you were this city's guardian."

"It had the Bat," he corrected.

"It had the suit," she countered. "You were still Nightwing just in Batman's armor."

"Are you saying I was just the guy in the suit?" He asked with a hint of anger.

"I'm not, you are," she told him. "I'm telling you that Dick Grayson, Nightwing, bled for this city, fought for this city, and kept the wolves at bay all by himself while Bruce, for whatever reason, justifiable or not, took a runner. You're saying that it was a suit that did it. Then again, you also said the suit was Bruce's skin so…"

"Stop trying to get in my head, Baby," he said irritably. "This isn't about me."

"Isn't it?" She asked slowly.

"No, it's about you!"

"So it would seem." She nodded and pursed her lips, "According to Barb, you and Bruce barely talked in more than a year but, since you came back, you've been calling Bruce every five minutes, reporting on my every movement, watching me like a hawk, and now you're going so far as to monitor my sleep when, given the speech you just got though making about how our relationship is one big huge mistake, I'd think you'd be calling him on his shit then washing your hands of it when it does blow up in his face."

"I'm just trying to help," he grumbled. "I'm sorry if I went a little overboard, okay?"

"I appreciate the support Dick, I really do, but I can handle myself," she told him. "I know it may not look like it, but I'll probably figure this out on my own sooner or later. I also appreciate you helping me with this Orbital situation."

"But?" He asked warily.

"But you have a choice," she said with a knowing expression, "You can get your head out of your ass and stop trying to be Bruce since we both know that he's not who you want to be, or you can continue trying to wear another man's skin until you wind up becoming him and we both know what that means." She sat back against the headboard and looked at him unflinchingly, "I love Bruce, don't get me wrong, but you could've saved some time and not worried about giving me the whole 'he's an asshole' spiel. I know he's an ass; I'm not going in blind." She sighed wearily, "Dick, the best part of you was always your heart; you made Bruce better even when the two of you fought like cats and dogs. You will always be the one who made the Bat a hero because you're the one who taught him about being family, but you have this idea in your head that in order to do what Bruce does you have to become him and you don't. You're not Bruce, you don't need to be Bruce, so stop trying to be him and go back to being yourself. Stop looking at me and thinking 'What would the Bat do?' Frankly, I can only put up with one Bruce Wayne right now and even that's a struggle," she snorted. "If I have to deal with two of you I'm likely to reach for my gun again and, this time, I won't need a night terror as an excuse."

"I'm not-I really am trying to look out for you here," he said flushing.

"I realize that which is why I haven't smacked you upside the head yet," she told him. "That said, either cut the shit or I will have to hurt you. Badly."

"Seriously," he said with a smirk.

She offered him a dangerous smile, "Don't let the adorable façade fool you; if you think what I did to those carjackers was intense, you should see what I can do with access to an investment portfolio and Wi-Fi."

"I've seen her donate a guy's entire life savings to Green Peace in less than a minute and drain several off-shore accounts in seconds," Oliver offered helpfully. "I wouldn't push it if I were you."

"Noted," Dick said taking a deep breath, "I'll cut the feeds and give you space from here on out. Are we still good?"

"We're good," she said cheerfully. "Do it again and we won't be, but right now we're good. And I meant what I said about the cowl; if you don't want it, tell him. Let him know you'll take care of Gotham but only if you can do it as Nightwing, not Batman. If he wants to retire the Bat, then the costume goes into the case and stays there. He can like it or lump it, but don't use me or my relationship with Bruce as an excuse to avoid having that conversation, got it? I never asked him to give up the cowl; that was on him, not me. I would be just as happy with a full-time Bat or a part-time Bat as I would a full-time Bruce Wayne. I never asked him for a commitment or marriage either. In fact, I told him we didn't even have to officially date. This whole thing was purely Bruce's idea so your issues are your own, not mine, and if this whole thing blows up then I'll deal with it myself. Are we clear?"

"Yeah, crystal," he breathed out and looked at her sheepishly, "I'll…go downstairs and take care of the feeds now," he told her then gave Oliver a nod before exiting the room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Oliver smirked in her direction, "Have I ever told you how turned on I get whenever you say the words 'get your head out of your ass'?"

"Even when it's not directed towards you?" She asked lightly.

"Especially when it's not directed towards me," he grinned.

"No, but then again it's so rare that you aren't the biggest asshat in the room so I can understand why."

Oliver came forward and sat on the edge of her bed before reaching for her hand and stroking his thumb over the back of it, "About the night terrors; are you really okay?"

"It's just…my new normal, so yeah," she said quietly, allowing him to continue touching her hand even though she knew it was a bad idea.

"I'm sorry," he said, meeting her eyes with a pained look.

She frowned, "For what?"

"For Slade, for Isabel, for what's happened between us, your nightmares; all of it," he told her. "This is all my fault."

She gave him a look of mild annoyance, "Not every bad thing in my life is your fault, Oliver. My bad dreams are not your fault, neither was Slade or Isabel," she paused, "Well, Slade wasn't your fault; ignoring my advice about that woman then sleeping with her totally was."

He shut his eyes and grimaced, "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "We'll always have Russia and not in a good way."

He glanced at her, a look of deep regret making him suddenly seem older, "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I had never met you."

She couldn't help the sharp stab of pain that ripped through her at that but she managed to keep her voice steady, "Yeah, well, I guess I can understand that."

He shook his head and squeezed her hand lightly, "Not for me, but for you," he told her. "I used to look at you after we came off a mission and you'd have bruises or be bleeding and I'd think, 'she shouldn't be here'." He exhaled roughly, his eyes slightly bloodshot and filled with pain. "I still remember walking into your office and seeing that pen hanging out of your mouth," he smiled, "You were the first person to make me feel normal again, you know that? As normal as I could be anyway. I should've just left you alone; let you enjoy a normal life without all of this," he added bleakly.

"'Normal' for me was never an option, Oliver. What you're forgetting is that I was part of this world long before I met you," she pointed out quietly. "I may not have been in as deep as I was able to get with you, but it was just a matter of time." At his questioning look, she clarified, "Dick, despite his recent brainfart, asked Bruce to train me before I left Gotham. Bruce said no but, had I stayed, I would have eventually sought out that training elsewhere. I knew the names and locations of the people who trained Bruce and the rest of the team, Wildcat being just one of them. Plus, if I hadn't gone to Starling, I thought about joining Luke in Africa. I didn't know he was Batwing at the time but, once I got there, I would have figured it out. Luke is a pretty smart guy for the most part but he's also kind of a hot mess on his own. I would've stepped in whether he liked it or not. He's my big brother but he always brings out my inner Mama Bear, you know?"

"I'm very familiar with your inner 'Mama Bear'," he said ruefully.

"Yeah?" She grinned.

He smiled back, "I never knew that's what it was called but yeah. You pretty much whipped all of our asses into shape at one time or another, kept me on schedule, made sure we were eating right. Don't think I never noticed everything you did for us in the Lair or for me in the office; I noticed. I always noticed even when I didn't say anything." He paused, his eyebrows pulling down in as his gaze swept over her face, "I should have said something a long time ago but I didn't, not because I was a spoiled rich guy who expected that kind of thing from everyone, but because…"

"Because?" She prompted when he stalled out.

He tilted his head back and let go of her hand so he could scratch at his stubble which was longer than it had been in quite some time. "For me, the Lair was just a bolt hole, a place to train. It wasn't a home until you made it a home," he glanced at her again. "I loved my parents but, until I met you, I never realized what home meant. It sounds weird but you made me feel safe."

"Me?" She said with a nervous laugh.

He nodded, then stared at the floor as though lost in thought, "You gave me, I don't know, structure, balance…" his eyes took on a heavy cast, "You called me on my shit, never backed down, but when I felt scared or lost, you were always there." He looked up at her and smiled, "In a lot of ways you were more of a mother to me than my own mother."

"Yeah…that—that just doesn't sound right. I appreciate the sentiment, but…" she cringed.

"Yeah, well, think about how I feel; here I am, head over heels in love with a beautiful woman who was, for the most part, my work mommy-slash-den mother for three and a half years," he joked.

"That's…just so wrong…" she said in amused disgust and, despite herself, she couldn't help but feel a slight fluttering in the pit of her stomach at his words. "Oliver…"

"I know." His smile dimmed slightly as he looked at her, "You know, the other thing I've been wondering about a lot lately is, if I'd taken your advice and gotten my head out of my ass sooner, where we'd be right now." His hand reached for hers again and he brushed his thumb over her knuckles. "I thought about asking you out, you know," at her inquisitive look, he clarified, "The first time I met you it was on the tip of my tongue to ask you if you wanted to go get some coffee."

"I hope you would have at least offered to take me to a safer coffee place than your last one," she joked.

His smile widened a bit, "That's another thing; I'm usually not that bad of a liar but, for some reason, I've never been able to lie to you. I walked into your office and had this whole story planned out but the second I saw you, I just blanked out."

"So 'spilled a latte on it' wasn't your first choice?" She teased.

"No," he said wryly. "I had a story about how my body guard was teaching me basic weapons training and I didn't know the safety was off. My strategy was to come off as mildly incompetent but endearing. I was going to ask you to be discreet because there had been a recent kidnapping attempt on my life and I didn't want anyone to know I was carrying a weapon, even if I was completely hopeless with it."

"That's better than the coffee shop in a bad neighborhood story but not by much," she pointed out.

"It's believable though," he shrugged. "Most people who have a need for personal security have to undergo some sort of self-defense training as well. I even brought Diggle along to sell the lie but then I saw you and…" he exhaled roughly, "I've never been able to hide with you, Felicity. I spent almost four years fighting my instincts, running away from how I felt about you, and just when I finally get there…" He swallowed, "Had I acted sooner, if I kissed you, told you how I felt, where would we be right now?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. She met his gaze and bit her lip before answering, "Do you want to know my honest opinion?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I do. Always."

"If you had asked me out I would have gone in a heartbeat; be it the first day, the first year, the next year, right up until the night we had sex, I would've always chosen you," she said evenly. "There has never been a time when I didn't love you, didn't want you, and I still love you, but we would never have worked out."

"Why not?" He asked, his eyebrows drawing together in mild dissatisfaction.

"We would have gone on that first date and, five minutes in, you would've found an excuse not to move forward," she said bluntly. "Anything from your steak being overcooked to some asshat bad guy blowing up the restaurant with an RPG would've made you put on the brakes; you would've used it as an excuse to not be happy because that's what you do. The only reason we ever got as far as we did was because it was in the heat of the moment. Had we gone the slow path, even though three and a half years of unresolved sexual tension is plenty slow if you ask me, it probably would've ended before the waiter even showed up with our drink order."

"Maybe you're right. Part of me thinks it would have ended in disaster," he admitted reluctantly. "You're right; my life is a mess and I need to figure out a way to make it work before I can make that kind of commitment, but part of me wonders if I had made my move, if I had asked you out to coffee or kissed you on any of the hundred different occasions when I really wanted to, right now we'd be lying in our bed back in Starling as we discussed all the mundane things people talk about when forging a life together."

"I doubt we'd ever be mundane even if it had worked out," she said, smiling through her sniffles as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

He chuckled sadly, "Yeah, probably not. We'd be talking about blowing stuff up in one breath and which pre-school we should send our kid to in the other."

"Connor's in elementary school," she reminded him.

"I was talking about our kids; the ones we'd have after Connor," he told her.

Her mouth fell open slightly at that, "Oh."

"Yeah," he said with a sad but teasing smile, "I was thinking about it and realized that if we had gotten together then, chances are, there's no way I would have ever been able to keep my hands off of you after that so, sooner or later, we would have had a kid, gotten married, the whole nine yards. Hopefully I'd be smart enough to do it in the right order, but either way is fine as long as it happened eventually. The morning after I fucked it all up," he looked at her guiltily, "I was already on my way over to your place to try and salvage things between us. I told myself I was just going over there to make sure you were okay and help you pack but the truth is I couldn't stay away from you for even a day. Actually, I couldn't stay away from you for ten minutes. Even when we were fighting afterwards, all I wanted to do was kiss you and bury myself inside of you until the world just faded away…even though I probably would've just talked myself into giving you the 'we can't be together' speech all over again." He gave her a sheepish look, "You're right, I am an asshole. I now realize what a dick move that would've been—hell, I knew it was a dick move then but I said it anyway."

"At least you can admit that you're both an asshole and a dick," she muttered. "They say that's the first step to recovery."

"Yeah, well, when Wayne made the remark about you being pregnant-" She opened her mouth and he stopped her by squeezing her hand, "Yeah, I know, but after he said it, and later when we talked, I kept thinking that if I had acted on my feelings sooner we'd probably have a kid of our own right now. I even named him in my head."

"Him?" She asked despite herself. "Not her?"

"Well, it wouldn't matter either way but, yeah," he admitted. "Something in me just knows it would have been a boy; maybe it's because of Connor and the fact that I wanted to have a second chance with him, seeing him born, being there and watching him grow up, who knows?" He looked up at her, "We would have named him Tommy." He smiled again although it was filled with melancholy and regret. "Did I ever tell you that Tommy's full name was Thomas Arthur Merlyn?"

She shook her head, "No."

"I should have put that on his tombstone but I didn't think about it at the time," he said quietly. "When we were kids we used to play knights and he would always brag that he was named after King Arthur and Merlyn the Magician while I got stuck with 'Jonas' after my great-grandfather." He stared at the floor again, "I wasn't really thinking clearly. I didn't even really go to the funeral, I just arranged to have the funeral home take care of it."

"It doesn't matter," she assures him.

"It matters," he told her as he met her eyes again. "I never wanted kids, never wanted to build a life with anyone, and then I found out about Connor and I started to realize what my mom was talking about when she would use words like 'legacy'." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he tented his fingers together and tapped them lightly against his lips, "Someday, sooner rather than later, I'm going to die. This isn't the kind of life that leads to old age and I know that; I've always been fine with that. Then I met Connor and I realized that it doesn't matter because he's my legacy, but then I had to give him up and now that's gone; he's gone, you're gone, and I'm alone and have nothing to show for it."

"He's not gone," she corrected gently. "You only signed away your rights so he could enter ARGUS relocation, although I personally think we could have figured out a way around it. I mean, the woman ordered a drone strike on a major city; I certainly think we could have gotten through a little red tape and some legal hoops if we pushed it. The only reason Waller insisted on going by the book like that was so she'd have something to hold over you, you know that right?"

"Yeah," he admitted with a nod before turning to her again. "I knew it then. If not, I certainly would have caught on at some point during the other hundred and fifty times you brought it up."

"I'm persistent," she teased. "It's part of my charm."

"It certainly is," he said warmly. "Still, I did it because I thought I wasn't good enough to be his dad and he deserved a clean slate—does deserve a clean slate. That's also why I pushed you away; I thought you deserved a better life than the one I could offer you."

"You need to stop thinking that way," she told him. "Connor needs you and you need him."

"I need you," he told her. "I think if I still had you, I could figure it all out because you'd be there to remind me of that."

"I can't…" she swallowed.

"I know," he said, inhaling sharply and scrubbing his hands on his pants' leg. "I know but I still…" he shook his head, "I really messed up and I just wish I could hit the reset button and start over, you know? Do things differently, make better decisions," he met her gaze, "I wish I made the decision to be with you sooner and I wish to God I just stayed in bed with you that night and never tried to send you away. If I had just gone with my heart instead of my head, you'd still be mine."

"It happened the way it was meant to happen," she said flushing. "I'd be lying if I didn't say that I wish…I wish that I had gotten over my own issues and, I don't know," she said helplessly, "I do know that, even when things were at their worst, I wouldn't have changed a minute of it because..." She looked at him, "Being your friend, being part of our team, those were the best years of my entire life and that's all because of you."

"You can still come back," he said, taking her hand again. "You keep telling me that it's not too late for me to be with Connor; maybe it's not too late for us either."

She scooted closer to him and took a moment to center herself before speaking, "There were times when I was with you that I came close to giving up and going home. I had a lot of doubts in the beginning, the way you went about things scared me sometimes and then there was Laurel and Helena, Sara…"

"I'm sorry," he said his eyebrows drawn together in an expression of shame.

"No," she said firmly. "We weren't together and you had a right to try to find someone. I'll admit, it hurt my feelings a little that you seemed to see everyone else but me-"

"I saw you," he interjected. "I did see you, believe me, and I wanted you. From day one I wanted to be with you, only you, but I chose them because I knew I couldn't afford to make a mistake with you and, in the beginning, I wasn't capable of being the man you deserved; I'm still not but that doesn't mean I don't want to be."

"I wasn't either," she told him. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I was just as empty as you were; maybe even more so because you at least had a purpose that drove you to do what you did. I was…" she licked her lips, "I was just going through the motions before you showed up at my door then, later, I stayed because you needed me."

"I still need you; I will always need you," he insisted gently.

She reached up to cup his cheek, "Since leaving Starling, I've discovered so much about myself, about who I am now. It's not perfect, obviously. I still…" she exhaled roughly and looked around the empty room. "I've still got a long way to go, but I think I needed this; I think you need this, too." She leaned forward until her head lay against his shoulder and he enfolded her in a loose embrace.

"I need you," he repeated in a murmur as he stroked his fingers up and down her back and kissed the top of her hair. He pulled away and cupped her cheek gently, "I love you. I'll never not love you; come home."

She covered his hand with her own and gently pulled it down so that their hands were laying on the bed between them before speaking, "When I first came to Starling it was because I was running away."

"From Wayne."

"From myself," she corrected. "Bruce never promised me a happy ending but I convinced myself that there was something there that wasn't." She flushed, "The first time we, um," she glanced at him through a fall of dark lashes, "Anyway, it wasn't anything I ever expected to happen and I thought that he was going to tell me to leave right after we had sex. I knew he didn't love me or anything but I just wanted to feel…real."

"You are the most real person I know," he said frowning at her.

"To you," she said easily, "but it was a hard time for me, I felt lost, and I wanted to feel something."

"I've been there," he admitted. "Is that why you're with him now? Because I did something…?"

"No," she said quickly, "That's not why I'm telling you this. I felt invisible for a long time, my whole life actually, except with my family and Bruce; they were the only ones who ever really saw me but…"

"But?" He prompted.

"Something happened and I didn't know how to process it," she said reluctantly. "It made me feel cut off from my family even though they didn't do anything and I was so used to pretending that I didn't know how to express that. With Bruce, it's like I didn't have to, so when I had the opportunity to make that connection, I did. Now I realize how stupid that sounds. I mean, I was having sex with him so, naturally, he wasn't going to kick me out of bed right away. He was going to keep me there as long as he wanted me, but I thought that him wanting me was the same as being needed. It wasn't Bruce's fault, like I said. It was my choice, my decision, but when the rejection finally came it still really hurt because I thought he was all I had left." She bit her lip again, "When I met you for the first time, I was two seconds from handing in my resignation and going home. I never told you that but it's true. I know I looked happy, but I was lost and you and Dig found me; *you* found me," she emphasized. "You gave me the opportunity to be needed again and I needed all of you in return."

His eyes locked on hers with an almost mesmerizing intensity, "So what changed?"

"Nothing, everything," she said with a sad half-smile. "Mostly it was Slade." He tensed and she placed her other hand on his chest to comfort him, "Again, it's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," he said grimly. "I created Slade, I brought him to Starling; I'm the one who put you on his radar to begin with."

"My choice," she reminded him. "That doesn't mean that it didn't change everything for me though. Before that day I always knew that what we did was dangerous but part of me believed that you'd always be there to rescue me." He flinched and she made a soothing gesture by running her hand from his chest to his shoulder, "As horrible as it was, it taught me an important lesson because I finally knew what it was like to really be alone and to have to make the impossible decisions you and Bruce make every day. And yes, it haunts me; it will probably haunt me for the rest of my life, but I also saw how Ollie became Oliver after that. If you had asked me who I was before that day I could tell you; now…" she shook her head, "I don't know who I am but I'm learning and if I go back to Starling, I'm never going to find out and, what's worse, you're never going to find out who you are either."

He looked at her in frustration, "What are you talking about? I know who I am and I know what I want; that's what I've been trying to tell you."

She rubbed her hand over her forehead and drew her legs up further, putting some distance between them, "As long as I'm there, neither of us will ever move on," she said after a moment. "You'll always find a reason not to move forward and I'll always find a reason to stay static in hopes that someday you'll catch up. Oliver, I love you; the truth is that I love you just as much as I love him. In some ways, I even love you more."

"Then why do this? Why put us both through this?" He said with a hint of anger.

"Because I love you enough to let you go," she said simply. "You were right that night when we talked on the phone; as long as I'm in your life, you can't do what you need to do."

"I was wrong!" He said stubbornly.

"No," she disagreed, "You were right and it's time for me to stop running just like it's time for you to realize that you're more than just the Arrow, Oliver. You have to be a man, too. Meanwhile, I need to start being my own hero instead of always waiting around for someone else to rescue me."

"You are a hero," he said brokenly. "You saved me more times than I can even count. Besides, Wayne will never give you what you're looking for. Dick was right, that armor is his skin; he's too far gone Felicity, but I still need you."

"You keep thinking that I'm choosing him over you or that I expect something from him and you're wrong. I never asked Bruce to give up the Bat and I don't expect to live happily ever after. I stopped believing in happily ever after a long time ago, but I do know that if I'm ever going to move on then I have to start by stop running away. I need to see this through with Bruce because, right now, he needs me more than you do," she ran her hand over his thick stubble and smiled, "I don't need Bruce because he loves me more than you do or because he's offering me something you can't, I need Bruce because I have to believe that someday I can escape whatever this darkness is inside of me. I see Bruce, I see how he struggles with it every day, and I need to find that same strength inside of myself and, as I start to heal, he does as well. Right now, we're two people finding our way together. When I'm with you, as much as I love you, I find myself sinking into the shadows and maybe that's more on me than anything else. In fact, I know it is. Slade is my ghost now. He was yours but now he's mine and I need to learn to live with it but every time I see…" she paused, "In my dream I'm always running."

She looked up at him, "I'm running and stuff happens, but at the end of the dream it's always just me and Slade. Sometimes it's like it was that night, sometimes it's different, sometimes it doesn't even make sense, but it always ends with Slade embracing me and telling me I belong to him."

He made a pained noise, "I'm so…I should have killed him the first time."

"Don't," she told him, "Just listen." She paused until he was able to meet her gaze again, "In the dream you die and it's my fault."

"Nothing you did that night was your fault," he reassured her.

"I know that; logically, I know that, but in the dream I'm responsible for your death." She felt a tightness in her chest but kept going, "Sometimes I kill you, sometimes Slade kills you, sometimes we do it together. Sometimes it's just you; last night it was you and Bruce."

"It's just a dream; symbolic. Maybe…maybe it's because I ignored you when we got back home?" He offered. "Maybe it stands for the fact that you're still angry at me because of that or because you still feel like we should have included you in the mission from the beginning?"

"Maybe." She took a shaky breath, "It doesn't take a degree in psychology to figure out what all that means. Some part of it is guilt and me reacting to the trauma of that night, but a big part of it is because, yes, I'm angry and frustrated by the fact that it went down that way at all and that you and Bruce keep pushing me aside and treating me like I'm helpless. Mostly though it's because…I don't know," she sighed. "I guess it's because I sometimes feel like I'm not in control of my life. I think maybe the anger I feel in my dream is more about me than anyone else, you know? I think I need to find my own mission, Oliver; not yours, not Bruce's, mine."

"Your own mission; as in Orbital? Even if they are legit, which they aren't, do you really think Wayne will let that happened?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter what he wants," she said. "This isn't about him; it's about me. For the first time I'm actually living for myself and I like that feeling."

"This won't end well, Felicity," he warned her.

She nodded, "Probably not but, right now, this is where my gut is telling me I need to be. You're right, Orbital might not be it but later, who knows? All I know is that right now I need to be in Gotham and you need to go home to Starling."

"And later?"

"I don't know."

He got up from the bed reluctantly and walked over to the door before stopping to turn to her, "I'll let you take your shower but, I want you to know, I'm staying until I know you're safe."

"Oliver…"

"I need to do this," he told her. "If you really want me to move on then I need to know you're okay and, even then, I won't stop hoping that you'll change your mind and come home." He paused, "I still love you."

"I know," she said quietly.

He nodded once, turned, and shut the door behind him.

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

While she was in the shower and later as her makeshift family sat around the table eating rubbery scrambled eggs and leftover fruit salad, she kept turning her conversation with Oliver over and over again in her mind. It wasn't until she was sitting in the van with Laurel beside her, both of them silent with the exception of the few factoids about starlings the other woman would offer up as she read them off her tablet, that she finally began to put it all together in her head.

Until she said it out loud to Oliver, she'd never really thought it all through; her night terrors, how she felt in the months after Slade, or even how she really felt about remaining in Gotham. She once said that Oliver was so busy reacting to everything, or reflecting on the mistakes of his past, that he never had time to plan or look ahead; he was always in the now, always in a state of fight or flight instead. What she didn't realize until just then was that she had been guilty of doing the same thing.

Once, years ago, Dick invited Barbara, Tim, and her to Haley's Circus to watch the aerialists practice their routines. He grew up in the circus and practically lived in a state of mid-flight from the moment he was born which was why his parent's always called him 'Robin'. The Flying Grayson's were the biggest act Haley's Circus had ever had, their dangerous stunts and record breaking aerobatics drew crowds from all over the world to watch them perform. They died when some thugs who were trying to shake down the owners, damaged the tension wire causing them to plunge to their deaths. Whenever she heard that story she always felt sympathy for his loss, but part of her always wondered why they took that risk to begin with; why do something that dangerous without a net?

Well, later that day she got her answer.

It was Barbara's birthday, her first since she'd been paralyzed from the waist down by the Joker's bullet, and to all of their surprise, he handed Barbara a gift bag with some soft leather ballet slippers and a leotard. He then threw on his own workout gear and carried her up the ladder so she could experience swinging through the air in the same way she had before the loss of her legs. It had been a profound moment for her, watching the love and care Dick showed her friend and mentor as he tied her legs together then placed her hands on the trapeze bar before pushing them both off of the platform and into the air so she could fly again.

Until the moment she saw the look on Barbara's face when she let go of the bar and hung in the air with nothing below her to stop her fall, trusting that she could grab the trapeze swinging towards her before gravity kicked back in, she never understood the how or why of it all. Why let go of the bar; what if you miscalculate and miss? Why walk across a wire that can snap at any moment? And why do it without a net to catch you?

She understood the mechanics of it, of course; the aerialist distributes mass away from the pivot point, thereby increasing the moment of inertia. This reduces angular acceleration because a greater force is required to rotate the performer over the wire. What she never understood was how Barbara or any of them could get past the voice inside their heads telling them not to get up there in the first place.

She watched, terrified yet spellbound, as this amazing woman who couldn't even walk flew by willpower alone. At that moment, she stopped being a victim, she stopped being a hero, she stopped being crippled or earthbound, and became a bird. She hung in the air, suspended as if by magic, reached out across the expanse, and flew. Dick caught her midflight and it was the most amazing thing she'd ever been witness to; it was a moment of pure faith, love, and strength of will.

These men and women didn't don masks and fight because they were heroes, even though they were. They didn't do it because they were fearless, or for money, or fame. It wasn't even just for the thrill of it; it was because they belonged up there. The sky was their home and they were birds, swooping and diving through space and walking on wires until their wings failed them or gravity caught up and then they crashed to their natural and unavoidable end without regret. It all came together for her at that moment and something clicked in her mind. They were birds and birds flew; it was in their nature but never for a moment did she ever suspect that she could be a bird as well.

Until she flew.

When birds learn to fly, it's through an act of violence. The birds who once nurtured them, who they trust to bring them nourishment, protect them, and keep them warm, leave them and force them to fend for themselves or push them from the nest to live or die by their will and immature wings alone. They don't choose to fly, they choose to survive.

And just then, it came to her. It was like she was back in the eye of the storm and the lightning lit up the corners of her mind making her entire world as bright a day.

She remembered watching Barbara fly without legs, she saw someone else's arms reaching for her, so she thought that was it; it was about someone catching you, it was about not being alone, end of story and cue the credits, right? Wrong, because…

Because for Barbara, it wasn't about who caught her, it was about learning how to fly for herself again. It was about surviving through will alone; her will alone, not someone else's.

Like Miranda said, she, like the birds whose name she took, were survivors. Starlings were gregarious little birds who painted the air with the thunder of their tiny wings in vast flocks called murmurations. However, even though they were songbirds, they were so aggressive and fearless that even raptors and other birds of prey looked upon them with awe and trepidation as they swarmed. They were fighters despite their diminutive size, intelligent and, according to the mythology that surrounded them, represented chaos, order, and love because love was both turbulent and enduring. Still, for all their strength and will to survive, they could be caged. These fierce little birds with their coats of many colors were highly sought out as pets for their ability to mimic any song and even human speech. They could easily be domesticated and complacent in their captivity, choosing not to see the bars that surrounded them and sacrificing freedom for comfort.

Was she just a little bird or was she a starling? Was that what she'd allowed herself to become? By hiding away, by being invisible and fading into the trees, had she built herself a gilded cage or was she fierce enough to fly alongside a raptor as its equal?

She thought about Sara and it was as though she could feel the brush of the other woman's lips against hers as she said, "Felicity, sometimes I think you spend too much of your time hiding and not enough time singing. You put up walls and melt into the background but when you open up and let us see you, it brings the light back into the room. You need to sing, Cutie. Stop hiding and just start singing."

Sara was the fiercest, bravest, strongest woman she knew, and yet, without even knowing it, she named her for these amazing little birds. Laurel was strong, resilient, flawed but courageous and she called her a hero. Renee and Barbara were tough, confident women who even Bruce respected and they saw Felicity as an equal and friend. Helena, for all her madness and anger, held a spark within her as well. She faced this woman down and proved to her that she could hold her own and saw the acknowledgement of that fact as Huntress looked on her with grudging respect afterwards.

All these beautiful, bold women; these warriors, had chosen to include her in their circle. They chose *her*, not Felicity Fox, daughter of Lucius, not Felicity Smoak, assistant to the Arrow, and not Baby, Batman's girlfriend; they saw her, not the man protecting her, not the men who loved her, they saw the fellow warrior she had become.

Wasn't it about time she started to see herself the same way they did?

She dressed down Dick for treating her like she was incapable of making her own decisions, spent all this time fighting against Oliver and Bruce who were always trying to save her; they pushed her away then pulled her close, treated her like a fragile broken-winged bird, but how could they possibly know what she was capable of if she'd never showed them? Only now were they beginning to see the real her because it was only now that she was beginning to recognize her own self.

Bruce was right; she was punishing herself for surviving. She was punishing herself because somewhere along the way someone had opened the door to her cage only she'd never noticed because complacency was easier.

She didn't know what the future held. She still feared her memories of that night, still feared Slade's ghost when he came to her in her dreams, but she was done hiding.

They were right; all of them were right. It was time to let go of her fear and sing. It was time to leave the cage behind.

"Are you ready for this?" Laurel asked, breaking her from her reverie as they approached Orbital.

Are you ready to fly like a bird of prey, little starling?

"I'm ready."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Bruce sat on the rooftop across from Lexcorp and watched as the light in Sebastien Mallory's office remained on despite the lateness of the hour.

"Watchtower, are you sure Mallory is still in the building?"

/He used his badge to enter the executive elevator and his office. It's possible he exited on someone else's badge but you yourself said he didn't go through the lobby./

"Can you hack the internal surveillance cameras?"

/I can try, this new system Baby programmed is pretty damn good, but say what you will about Luthor, his firewalls are fairly solid,/ Lucius said ruefully. /Besides, I'm more of an engineer than a hacker; this sort of thing is more her wheelhouse than it is mine./

He wasn't going to say it out loud but he agreed with the older man's assessment. He really wished Felicity was there with him and not just so he could keep an eye on her.

"Staying out here all night playing guessing games is getting us nowhere; I'm going in through the roof."

He unleashed his grappling hook as Lucius spoke, /According to the computer, security is in level fifty-five and headed down. Mallory's office is on fifty-two so wait until I give the all clear before heading to that level./

"Affirmative."

Bruce swung across the wide expanse to land lightly on the roof. He retrieved his line then waited.

/Okay, they're on fifty-three. It should be safe to begin the breech./

"Continue monitoring the situation in case they double back," he instructed as he used one of Felicity's new apps to hack the keypad within seconds.

/We have seriously got to convince Baby to consider working with Snyder down in WayneTech,/ the other man muttered. /That skeleton key of hers is amazing. We're talking Nobel Prize and the possible applications of this kind of mobile AI decryption technology is just...well, it makes a father proud./

"I've been trying get her to see that but she's stubborn," he said lowly as he made his way down the stairs.

/No surprise there. She's her mother's daughter. Okay, they're on fifty-two—go./

Bruce bypassed the alarm and entered the corridor. He listened carefully as he hugged the shadows. "Where are the maintenance crews?"

/Still on twenty so you should be good for a while in case you need to look around./

Bruce stepped out into the hall and made his way towards Mallory's office, still keeping out of the range of the security cameras. He paused as he neared his office, listening carefully, "Are you sure maintenance is on twenty?"

/Positive; why?/

"I'm hearing a buzzing noise, like the low hum of a vacuum cleaner."

/Hang on, I'm nearly through the firewall./ He paused, /Okay, I've managed to hack into the security feeds and I'm looping the footage on that floor now./ There was the click of keys on the other end of the line. /I looked over the footage and Mallory definitely hasn't left his office. He did, apparently take a meeting just before close of business. I can't see with who, but it appears to be a woman. She left out around six or so alone./

"Who was the meeting with?"

/I don't know; she didn't have a badge and followed someone else onto the elevator so I don't think she works there. She's wearing a trench coat, sunglasses, and scarf on her hair, plus she's talking on a cellphone the entire time she's entering and exiting his office which is preventing the camera from getting a clear shot. Facial recognition is a bust but by comparing her height with the door frame I estimate she's between 5'6" and 5'8" without the heels, Caucasian, slim build, and appears to have dark hair. Unfortunately there are no feeds inside the office itself but I've run through all the footage and he should still be there./

"I'm going in," Batman said as he made his way to the door.

He opened the door and silently slipped through, taking in the appearance of the room. The buzzing, grinding noise was louder now so he crossed through reception and opened the inner door to Mallory's office. There he found the source of the noise.

Mallory was slumped over the large shredder, his pants down around his knees and his bare buttocks exposed. His tie was stuck in the shredding mechanism, his head bobbing slightly as the machine struggled with the tangled silk lodged in its gears.

He didn't need to feel for a pulse to know he was dead and had been for at least a few hours.

A vibrating latex butt plug was jutting out of his rectum and some kind of flesh colored cylindrical object was still pulsating around his penis although both toys' batteries appeared to be dying. As he approached the desk, he noted the hardcore porn film still playing on a loop.

"Well, this is unexpected." Batman swung around, instantly on alert. A man in a blue and red costume stood in the center of the room observing the scene with an expression of distaste. "On so many levels," he added giving him the once over as well. "Hello Batman; you're a little far from home, aren't you?"

"Superman," he said in a low rumble, his eyes taking in the other man's appearance as well.

Unexpected was the word for it alright.

"I take it you were here to speak to Mr. Mallory as well?" He asked, his bright blue eyes flicking between him and the dead man. "So how did that conversation go exactly?"

"I didn't kill him," he said, turning his back on the other man and approaching the body.

"Autoerotic asphyxiation?" He asked, joining him, his expression still alert and guarded.

"No, this was murder."

"How do you know?" He asked, turning to him and averting his eyes from the grotesque condition of the body.

"Most asphyxiophiliacs prefer a slow method of strangulation to draw out the pleasure. They put pressure on the carotid as they masturbate, usually kneeling or sitting, and ensure some sort of method of quick release from their bindings following orgasm. His tie isn't tight enough," he pointed to the gap between the Windsor knot and his throat and the fact that his tie, while pulled taut, was not cutting off his blood or oxygen supply, "There's no scissors or a knife near the body and, even though there's a letter opener sitting out on the desk within reach, he didn't attempt to cut himself free." He stood near the body and stretched out his own arm to demonstrate, his gloved hand hovering over the object in question. While Mallory was shorter than he was with less reach, he still could have touched the opener and pulled it to him by his fingertips, "Also, his neck is broken."

"Couldn't the shredder have snapped his neck?"

"It takes between 1000 and 1250 psi of torque to break someone's neck and the shredder doesn't have that kind of power plus the angle is wrong." He pointed to the position of his neck, the angle of the tie lodged in the mechanism, the bruises blooming around his throat, and lack of petechial hemorrhaging in his eyes, "This scene has been staged."

/The woman from the surveillance footage was in and out of his office in less than twenty minutes./

Superman's eyes flickered slightly as he observed him carefully, "Do you know who did this?"

"No," he said curtly.

/I have footage of her getting into a Metro Cab; I'm hacking their server now./

"But you-?" Suddenly the other man frowned and looked up.

"What is it?" He said with a scowl.

/There's a silent alar-/

There was a gust of wind as Superman left the room in a blur.

/-m on the top floor inside what the computer indicates is Lex Luthor's executive suite. It has top level clearance only but the alarm appears connected to the inner office, not the door or elevator./

"Footage?"

/None. Apparently they used our little trick with the feedback loop but whoever it was couldn't get through the security inside and set off a failsafe alarm. Chances are they don't even know what's happening yet./

"Where are the guards?"

/Stuck twenty floors down. I disabled all the keypads and elevators but that won't hold them long and, unfortunately, that means you can't move either. You'll have to take the window./

Batman walked over to the floor to ceiling plate glass windows, set a charge, then stepped back. "Is the street below clear?"

/Clear./

He activated the charge causing the window to shatter outwards then stepped onto the ledge, firing his grappling gun towards the roof and allowing it to pull him upwards. His eyes counted the floors until he reached the right one then he stopped his ascent, covered his face with his cape, and swung towards the window, shifting his foot in his boot to activate the spikes in his soles and causing it to shatter on impact.

He landed inside the room, shook the glass from his shoulders, and watched as Superman fought a tall, raven haired woman dressed in black tactical gear…

…and, surprisingly enough, he didn't appear to be winning. In fact, as he watched the two grapple, they appeared to be equally matched and at a stalemate.

He'd seen enough of Superman's exploits to know the man's physical strength was off the charts in addition to his other abilities such as flight and super speed as he'd just witnessed. From the strain of the man's muscles and the grimace on his expression, he could tell the other man wasn't holding back. He also noted that, for all his brute strength, Superman apparently had very little hand to hand combat training. The woman, however, did and she was wiping the floor with him as a result. Just as that thought crossed his mind, she shifted her hip and turned. Superman fell forward, momentarily off-balance, but before he could regain his footing she tossed him into the far wall like he was nothing more than a ragdoll.

His eyes swept the area as the two titans continued to battle then caught sight of the bent and twisted metal door leading to some kind of vault. Deciding quickly that he would be of no use in a fight between two god-like beings, he slipped into the room quietly. The first thing he noted was that several rows of metal shelving had been knocked down and the floor was littered with the contents of several metal containment lockers that had been completely torn from their hinges.

"I'm seeing internal surveillance cameras," he said over the din, "Can you hack them and upload whatever's on there?"

/Working on that now but Luthor has that footage stored on a server separate from their in-house security system which is apparently why I couldn't find it before./

At that moment, Superman and the woman he was fighting came crashing through the entrance to the vault. He let loose with a hard left hook that sent her careening through the air and crashing all the way through the many layers of reinforced steel, soundproofing, cinderblocks, and brick, and onto the street below.

Batman began to head towards the opening in the wall to see where the body landed only to jerk back and duck as a thin metallic rope whipped outwards and entangled around Superman's neck, jerking him forward. The female super-soldier reappeared, apparently none the worse for wear, one hand pulling her back through the breech and the other clutching at the golden cord. He fell to his knees, his hands clutching at the ligature around his throat, but couldn't seem to be able to break its hold.

Batman immediately unleashed several razor sharp batarangs; two bouncing off the cord harmlessly while the other three were deflected by a pair of metal gauntlets the woman wore on her forearms. Without releasing the line around the other man's neck, she lifted a heavy steel safe with one hand and hurled it in his direction as if it weighed nothing. He rolled and took cover behind the door of the vault that had been ripped from its hinges. He quickly tossed several gas vials towards her that shattered at her feet sending up a cloud of stun gas that was strong enough to take down an elephant.

The woman staggered backwards, releasing her hold on the rope long enough for Superman to take in a gasp of air. She never fell however, instead she shook her head and focused her gaze at him. She picked up the end of the cord and gave it a mighty jerk just as Superman staggered to his feet, The other man flew at him like a toy at the end of a string and Batman barely had time to get out of his way before he landed hard near where he had been crouching.

He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a small sonic device similar to the ones often employed by the League and tossed it at her feet. As soon as it landed near her boot, the device sent out a high pitched sonic wave that caused the glass within the room and the office outside of the vault to shatter. The woman and Superman both cried out, clutching their ears, and he had only seconds to form a game plan to take her down.

He went to Superman and loosened the thin rope from his neck. As soon as he was clear, his strength seemed to return and he launched himself at the woman. She lifted her foot and shattered the device under her heel, silencing the high pitched whine but it had already done its job. She lifted her head just as Superman was on top of her. He hit her hard, sending her sailing back out of the large fissure in the wall and onto the street below.

He stalked towards the opening to finish this once and for all, his expression intent as he kicked away the debris under his feet. One of the metal fireboxes damaged in the melee sprang open and several small green rock fragments spilled out. All of the sudden, for no reason that Batman could discern, Superman staggered and fell to his knees as if in pain. He clutched at his head and toppled over, his expression strained as he let out a low moan.

Batman glanced out of the opening onto the street. The soldier pulled herself from the wreckage of the car she'd landed on and stared up at him. For a second it looked as though she was going to come back to finish the fight but a black tactical van pulled up beside her and she got inside before they pulled away and headed into traffic.

"Watchtower, get me the license plates of that van and all the traffic cam footage. I want to know who those people are and where they're headed."

/On it. Are you both okay?/

"I'm fine but I don't know about him yet." He walked over to Superman to check on his injuries but stopped as he heard a familiar voice from the entrance to the vault.

"Oh well, it was time to redecorate anyway."

"Luthor," he greeted in a low gravel.

"Batman," he returned. Lex stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the damage as he brushed some imaginary dust from his impeccably pressed suit. He turned to the two men with a dispassionate air, "Well, just in case no one else has said it yet, welcome to Metropolis."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Felicity and Laurel entered Orbital and were immediately greeted by Wildcat who gave them both a nod.

"Is Miranda here yet?" She asked quietly.

"Hello Felicity," she heard the woman in question call out and she turned in her direction.

"Miranda." Her eyes swept over the other woman's lush figure, taking a moment to admire her impeccable fashion sense. She was in head to toe Oscar de la Renta. She knew the outfit since he was one of her favorite designers, although she doubted she could pull off the deceptively simple looking white blouse and black pencil skirt nearly as well as Miranda did. The blouse with the cut sleeves held together with tiny black bows played up her generous bosom while the pencil skirt emphasized her curves. Even the dainty lady-like heels with the same small bows across her instep made her legs seem longer, curvier. Her dark hair fell in a tumble down her back and her makeup was so flawless she almost looked like a modern masterpiece brought to life.

Felicity, on the other hand, had opted for comfort. Oh, she still looked fairly professional in the short Dolce and Gabbana stretchy red tweed skirt and soft cardigan, but she didn't look like that. While most of the bruising had faded from her face she'd reopened the cut on her lip so she was forced to again eschew lipstick in favor of a simple gloss and kept her makeup light. When she left the house she thought she looked pretty good even without it, but suddenly she felt all washed out and schlumpy. She'd even opted for flats, leaving the tweedy looking heels she was planning to wear in the closet and going with a pair of Charlotte Olympia cream and black panda flats instead. At the time she was thinking 'mission wear' not 'dress to impress'. She knew she didn't look bad, just…'cute'.

And short.

And, yeah, washed out and schlumpy.

Once again she was struck by the odd thought that while men went to war in fatigues and combat boots, women often engaged in subtler and even more deadly forms of battle every single day in heels and designer wear.

"What adorable shoes," Miranda said looked down at her feet. "And so comfortable looking; are those supposed to be puppies?"

"Pandas," Fly like a bird of prey, Felicity reminded herself as she looked at the cunning calculation in the other woman's expression as she took in her appearance as well. She could almost hear Sara whisper in her ear, 'Just suck it up and own it, little bird. Let her underestimate you because that's when we do our best work.'

"Cute," the other woman said with a charming smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Shall we?"

"Of course," she said, straightening her posture along with her glasses as she followed her into Cyber Ops.

In addition to Miranda and herself, she recognized the three techs on duty as Alice, the young woman she'd met the night before, Mordred the cyber-goth, and 'Dave' the very preppy looking techie who looked like he just stepped out of an Abercrombie ad. Truth be told, of all three Mordred was the one she felt most comfortable around even though they had yet to have an actual conversation. Even with his colorful new school tats, Mad Hatter graphic tee, and spiked hair, he seemed the most approachable if only because she knew for a fact that he was a genuine hacker. Dave's slick, put together way of dressing and ultra-bright white smile instantly put her on edge for some reason while Alice…

…she didn't know what to think about Alice actually. Like with Gypsy, there was this instant sort of recognition between herself and the younger woman. While Dave definitely pinged her radar hard, the second she came close to Alice a hum or buzz began to pull at the edge of her hearing. Alice seemed to sense it as well because the minute she stepped into the room, her spine stiffened and she turned to face her with a curious expression. Their eyes met and it was as though something began to push at the edges of her mind. It wasn't a painful feeling, more like a heaviness, as if the air pressure had dropped and gravity became more dense around them.

Felicity frowned and pressed her fingers against her forehead as though warding off a headache which she probably was. She hadn't slept well, that was all, she reasoned. Steeling herself for what lay ahead, she found her center and pushed the feeling away. Alice shifted uncomfortably in her chair and frowned as well, shaking her head slightly.

"You okay, Allie?" Mordred asked, turning to her with a frown.

"I'm fine," she said in a soft voice offering him a smile. "Too much caffeine."

"No such thing for a hacker," he said absently as he tapped on his keyboard and watched the monitors in front of them.

"I guess I'm not much of a hacker then," she told him as she typed some commands in as well.

Dave shot them both a quelling glare that caused Alice to straighten her posture while Mordred simply ignored him. "Everything's ready, Ms. Tate."

"Very well," she said stepping closer. She turned in her direction, "Felicity?"

For a second she blanked out and then she realized that Miranda was handing the mission over to her. Swallowing down her nervousness she put on her game face, "Open up a coms channel," she ordered, stepping up behind Mordred who was at the center console.

/Hey Cutie./

"Hey Canary," she said, unable to prevent her lips from curving upwards. "What are we looking at on the ground?"

/It's a party, wish you were here. Or not,/ she said absently. Although her tone was light and teasing, there was an edge of something that put her instantly on alert. /It appears that we have a few gatecrashers./

"League or ARGUS?" She asked.

/Both./

/This was some kind of fucked up intel, by the way,/ Helena said, her voice joining Sara's over the speakers. /If we'd gone in using the bullshit Isabel handed us, we would have been stuck in the middle of a goddamn bloodbath./

/She's not wrong,/ Tatsu chimed in. /ARGUS and the League are engaged and we're staying back at a safe distance at the moment./

"Pull up the satellite images," Miranda ordered. "Has Lady Blackhawk deployed the drone?"

/Deploying now,/ Lyla told them. /Going live./

The large screens came to life, half of them showing the sat feeds and the other half broadcasting live images from a small drone camera. The drone came up behind the stone structure on the edge of the cliff, the steady camerawork a testament to her skills as a pilot even if it was from behind the controller of an unmanned mini-drone.

It was hard to see much, the area bathed in darkness as it was the middle of the night, but then Lyla switched the feed to night vision and suddenly they could see just how complicated things had gotten. At least two dozen League assassins dressed in black were scaling the sheer rock face of the cliff while several others who had already made the journey were engaged in battle with ARGUS operatives.

Helena was right; had they gone in, it would have been a turkey shoot with all three groups battling to the last.

"Do you have eyes on Creote and Savant?" Miranda asked coolly.

/Seriously?/ Helena shot back with a snort.

/Uh, that would be a negative,/ Sara said roundly. /Right now they're holed up in their quaint little cottage roasting weenies over the fire as they watch the slaughter going on in their front yard./

At that moment there was the sound of an explosion and the screen lit up in front of them.

"What's going on?" Felicity asked quickly.

/That would be the landmines,/ Sara said wryly. /Apparently Savant's nursemaid has gotten into gardening./

/Yeah, he's trying to plant an EOD tree,/Lyla said sarcastically. /Actually, make that a forest./

/This is some kind of bullshit,/ Huntress muttered.

/I recommend aborting this mission, Command. We're outmanned, outgunned, and our position is untenable at best. There is zero cover between here and the compound and there are commandoes and League assets in full out battle below us,/ Tatsu said in sharp tones.

"We can't abort," Miranda said firmly. "You need to find a way to get in and get the packages out safely. Both packages."

/Are you shitting me?/ Helena burst out. /Lady, if you want these 'packages' so badly then-!/

Miranda reached across the console and muted the coms before turning towards her, "That's your team down there; I expect you to make this happen, understood?"

From the back of the room she caught the expression on Laurel's face as she started towards Miranda before Wildcat put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Felicity pushed down her own irritation and looked at her boss with a jaundiced eye, "First off, you're absolutely right; that's my team down there and I won't send them into a blood bath. If they say they can't do it, I'm pulling them out; period."

"We cannot allow ARGUS or the League to get hold of Savant," Miranda said tersely. "That means they either need to bring them in or take them out; one or the other. Now can you or can you not do the job you were hired to do?"

For one brief moment Felicity seriously considered unleashing her inner Helena and punching the bitch's lights out. Miranda had gone from charming and intelligent to living up to her handle as a primordial monster in no time flat.

Fuck this, Felicity thought. However, before she quit she needed to get her team home where they belonged. "Turn the coms back on."

/-the fuck kind of Mickey Mouse bullshit-!/ Helena cursed, apparently still on a roll.

"Lyla," she broke in, "What's the model of that drone?"

/It's a Amaterasu FireFox 1580./

"That's one of WayneTech's subsidiaries," she muttered to herself. "On the back of the controller there should be a set of numbers and letters; read them off for me."

/H418ov21.C/

She tapped Mordred on the shoulder and motioned for him to get up. As soon as he abandoned his seat she sat down and pulled up the schematics for the drone. "Okay Lyla, that drone has on-board GPS and SALH laser tracking along with IMU, SDR, MIMO, and MFGPR."

/Uh, Slick, I know where you're going with this and there is no way in hell it's going to work,/ the other woman told her.

"It'll work," she told her. "MIT was experimenting with Quantum drones for landmine detection back in '96."

/Yeah, by using an air knife to set them off, not to detect, and this is a micro-drone; do you know how close to the ground you'd have to be for that ground penetrating radar to be even remotely effective?/

"About a meter, give or take," she answered as she continued to check out what was going on using the drone's night vision remotely. "Okay, I have control of the drone."

/Fe—Starling,/ Lyla said with a hint of annoyance, /First off, the second ARGUS or the League catches sight of that thing they're going to blow it out of the sky. Second, you have probably a fifty percent chance of that even working in the first place!/

"More like seventy-five, eighty," she told her.

/Yeah, those might be good odds for Vegas but we're talking *landmines* here. That means even if we can figure out a way through all those bullets, grenades, and ninjas, we still have a twenty to twenty-five percent chance of getting blown all to hell and back!/

"You know, you didn't used to be this pessimistic," she muttered. "You used to like my plans."

/Yeah, when they involved tequila and Chippendales dancers, not landmines!/

/I'm kind of with Lady Blackhawk on this one, Little Bird,/ Sara told her.

"I thought you liked it when my plans involved blowing shit up," she told her as she hacked into the drone's computer and tweaked the programming a little.

/Not when I was the one getting blown up,/ she told her.

She ignored her, "Gypsy, are you live?"

/I'm here./ She answered.

Felicity quickly pulled up her file just for reference, "Okay, here's the plan; I need you to cloak that drone and I'm going to paint the targets using the bistatic continuous-wave radar. This should light up the landmines so you guys can see them using your night vision specs."

/Yeah, but we're really far away…/ she told her. /I need to be in close range to cloak and there's no way we're getting anywhere near there./

"Here comes the tricky part; I'm going to have to have you guys split up and get Gypsy as close to the target as possible," she motioned for Mordred to move down a seat and take the other workstation directly beside her. "Canary and Katana, I need both of you to take out the assassins on the cliff. Blackhawk, you deploy the secondary drone while Huntress, I need you to head into the tree line then work on taking out as many unfriendlies as you can. Provide a distraction, do whatever it takes, but I want everybody headed toward you guys and away from Gypsy. Meanwhile Gypsy, I need you to cloak yourself and head for the cottage. Don't breech the perimeter until I give the go signal then trail behind the drone slowly."

/Are you for real?/ Helena asked. /You want us to take on two armies by ourselves?/

"Canary and Katana have the hard part. ARGUS agents are well trained but they aren't League trained. Besides, I thought you said you were a badass bird of prey; I figured you'd jump at the chance to swoop down and take out a few of Amanda Waller's rats all by your lonesome. Or is this a job for us songbirds instead?"

/That's true,/ Sara broke in and she could practically see her pirate's smile. /Tell you what, Huntress; you just keep the seat warm on the transpo and as soon as I take out these dozen or so assassins, I'll head on over and take out Waller's crew, too./

/You're both full of shit,/ she said gruffly. /Okay, Tweety; you're on! I'll bet you I can take out more of these jokers than you can. Hell, I'll even spot you the first five./

Sara snorted derisively, /No need to spot me anything, sweetheart. I don't need to do the girl push-ups, I can handle the full monty just fine and then some. Trained League assassin, remember?/

/I'll see your League assassin bullshit and raise you six martial arts masters, two ex-special forces firearm instructors, and a more mobbed up 'uncles' than I can count!/

/Care to put your money where your mouth is?/

/Shit's getting real now,/ Lyla broke in.

"Let 'em know I got fifty on the blonde," Wildcat said from the back of the room.

/I heard that, old man,/ Helena said darkly.

"I don't know, this kind of thing is pretty much Helena's wheelhouse," Laurel offered up.

/Excuse me? What ever happened to family loyalty?/ Sara huffed.

/Burn!/ Helena cackled.

/I hate to say it but I'm kind of with Huntress, too,/ Gypsy said reluctantly.

/Thank you for that,/ Sara said wryly.

/I'm in,/ Lyla said. /Put me down for Canary...even though, as the only 'hawk' on the team, I really like the 'birds of prey' thing. You know, we should make that our unoffial team name kind of like 'Team Arrow' only we could be The Birds of Prey./

/The Birds of Prey does sound kind of bad ass,/ Gypsy admitted.

"It really does," Laurel said to Wildcat who chuckled.

He stepped closer with a ribald twinkle in his eye, "Hear that, blondie; maybe when you get home I could be the cat who ate the Canary then spent the rest of the night in the Cat-Bird Seat?"

/You couldn't handle me, Pops,/ she told him.

/Put me down for Canary as well,/ Katana said smoothly. /Normally I don't gamble but us trained assassins have to stick together./

/Nice,/ Sara said cheerfully.

/Whatever,/ Helena shot back, obviously unimpressed. /By the way, you can only count the guys you take out, not the ones you and the whispering samurai take out together./

/You're on./

"Tell you what, I'll make this simple; Laurel and I are planning a belated Thanksgiving later when you guys get home. Winner gets to eat, drink, and be merry and loser does the dishes," Felicity told them. "I'll even throw in a half gallon of my own private stash to sweeten the pot; we're talking Ben and Jerry's finest."

/Sounds good to me,/ Sara said confidently.

/Me too, and I can tell you right now, I'm not doing any dishes; consider me down./

"Alright then, let's get this show on the road."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Batman moved towards the fallen man slowly, never taking his eyes off Luthor, "Are you alright?"

"No," he gasped as he attempted to leverage himself onto his knees only to collapse in a heap. "What's happening to me?"

"I think your friend might need a doctor," Luther said, glancing over at the fallen man with a malicious gleam. "It would appear that the young lady who broke into my vault may have done some damage to more than just my private property."

"Mallory is dead," Batman said, pinning Luthor with a hard look. "He was murdered, probably by the same woman who broke into your office."

"Was he? What a shame," the other man said sounding almost bored. "Although I doubt it was the same woman who was responsible for all this."

"And how do you know that?" He asked in a low growl.

"The same way I knew my office and private collections vault had been broken into," he said smoothly. "I was alerted immediately to the breech and was able to access the video footage. Even with her disguise, it's obvious that the woman seen leaving his office had little resemblance to the woman who broke into mine."

"You said you didn't know Mallory had been murdered; why were you checking the feeds outside his office?" Batman pointed out, one eye still on the man who lay panting at his feet although he made no move to help either.

"Given recent events, I've made it a policy to always keep an eye on Mr. Mallory," he said wryly. "If, as you say, Mr. Mallory was murdered it wasn't by the woman who broke in here, although that's not to say the two crimes weren't connected."

"Meaning?"

"Nothing," he frowned reaching down to pick up a large pearl then examined it carefully, "It's merely conjecture on my part but it stands to reason that whoever killed Sebastien and broke into my vault wasn't after money or any type of financial reward." He held up the object in his hand, "Do you see this?"

"It's a cultured pearl," he said evenly, barely sparing it a glance.

"No, it's not," Luthor said, tossing it up and catching it like a baseball. "It's a saltwater pearl." He looked at him and smirked, "Well, from the look on your face I'd say you don't believe me, but it's true." He looked down at the still struggling Superman, "In case you're having trouble following along unlike your sophisticated friend here, this," he held it up by his fingertips, "is perhaps the largest saltwater pearl ever discovered. While large freshwater pearls, such as the Pearl of Allah, are rare, saltwater pearls of this size are unprecedented. The largest saltwater pearl on record was around sixty carats. This is nearly eight hundred; a perfectly round, flawless pearl that was discovered nearly a hundred and fifty years ago and held in a private collection by a man who claimed to have escaped the mythical city of Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" Batman said neutrally.

He nodded, "A sailor by the name of Arthur Curry was lost at sea when his fishing vessel was caught in a storm. He claimed he drowned but was saved by a mermaid who did something to him that allowed him to breath underwater. She took him to Atlantis where he fell in love with this women whom he claimed was the daughter of the King of Poseidonis, the capital city of 'Atlan'. For one reason or the other, the king decided to kill him and he escaped, but not before taking a bag of jewels with him including this pearl."

"Nice fairy tale. You should write that down; you could become the next JK Rowling. The kids would love it," he deadpanned.

"It does sound rather farfetched, but collecting rare objects as well as the stories that go with them is a bit of a hobby of mine," he told him. "I'm something of an amateur geologist and this vault holds my private collection of various bits and bobs I've collected throughout the years; some priceless, like the Pearl of Orin," he tossed the creamy gem up in the air once again, "and some worthless to anyone except myself. Those green meteor fragments at your friend's feet, for example," he said looking pointedly at the faintly glowing small stones that were scattered around a weak and moaning Superman. "While all meteorite is intrinsically valuable, those particular ones are merely a curiosity a friend of mine sent to me from Antarctica. While I'll have to do a complete inventory though, nothing appears to be missing. Damaged, yes, but most thieves would have gone for the diamonds or the large ruby over by your foot." Batman looked down at the robin's egg sized stone at his feet. "Instead they tore through this place and tossed them aside like they were worthless."

Batman glanced down at the fallen man and, despite himself, began to grow concerned. He wasn't recovering, in fact he appeared to be getting worse. He was beginning to break into a cold sweat and his face had gone deathly pale.

Forcing himself not to acknowledge the man struggling at his feet, he again addressed Luthor, "So what were they after?"

"No idea," he said with a hint of smug satisfaction that told him he knew exactly what is was they were after. "However, if you want to know who's responsible then I suggest you try sticking closer to home."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you should be more careful with who you allow to take up residence in your city," he said enigmatically. His cellphone buzzed and he withdrew it from the inner pocket of his jacket, "It appears the elevators are back up and running so the police will be up here momentarily. I suggest you find your friend, Superman, a doctor." He gave the man in question a look of mock sympathy. Superman said nothing, merely glared at him through gritted teeth, his arms trembling as he finally managed to get himself off the floor then onto his feet. "Are you sure you're alright? I can call you an ambulance although I doubt they'd be able to do much for someone of your…unique origins."

"No, thank you," he wheezed breathlessly, stumbling slightly.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged. He turned to leave then glanced back at Batman, "When you do catch up to our mutual friend, make sure to give her my regards and let her know that I expect to be compensated for the damages."

"Our mutual friend?" Batman repeated, the words setting his teeth on edge.

Again, Luthor smiled enigmatically as if he knew exactly why it was those words were affecting him, "Hmm, and tell her to save a dance for me at the Gala, I so look forward to seeing her again. Oh, and Superman?" He said with an innocent expression, "Feel free to keep a few of the meteor fragments. According to my friend who discovered them, they originate from somewhere in the Corvus system near where Lois Lane said you were from. I was actually toying with the idea of calling it 'Kryptonite' as an homage to yourself. You know, to thank you for all the good you've done since coming to Metropolis." He turned on his heel and waved at them dismissively over his shoulder, "Do show yourselves out, gentleman."

Everything in him screamed to go after Luthor and pound him into a bloody pulp until he gave up the answers he needed. Unfortunately, Superman again collapsed to his knees with a low moan and he realized that he needed to get both of them out of there.

"Can you fly?" He asked, even though he knew it was unlikely given he couldn't even stand.

He shook his head, sweat dripping off his brow onto the floor, "No…" he gasped, "I don't know what's happening to me. It feels like…I don't know."

He reached down and helped the other man up, grunting as he took on his weight. He was a heavy son of a bitch but luckily he could still handle him. They stumbled towards the opening in the wall and he unleashed the grappling line and pulled, making sure it was a secure connection. He leaned down and picked the other man up in a fireman's lift, faltering slightly under his dead weight, before pushing off and swinging over to the next rooftop and into the night.

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

"Are you in position?" Felicity asked.

/Almost,/ Gypsy said.

"Canary, I'm seeing two bogies coming up on your six," Mordred said as he monitored her position from the second drone cam Lyla deployed.

/Got it,/ she said, followed by the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

The sound of automatic gunfire erupted through the speakers and the infra-red on the sat images lit up

"Huntress, what's your status?" Alice asked.

/Everything's copasetic,/ she said then grunted. /That makes six for me so far./

/You are way behind the ball there, Nutsy,/ Sara said as someone cried out over coms. /I'm up to ten already, not including the ones Katana took out./

/Night's still young, Tweety./ There was the sound of more punches and the twang of a crossbow, /Make that nine. I'm hard on your tail./

/Get used to that position,/ Canary told her as the unmistakable sound of a bo staff hitting body armor came through the speakers. /Eleven. Oh, and hope you don't mind but I ran out of assassins so now I'm taking out your guys, too./

There was a flurry of movement and Huntress's crossbow sounded three times in rapid succession, /Fair enough since I just took out three of these League pussies you apparently missed. Twelve and, by the way, I didn't even have to break a sweat./

/I'm starting to think-/ Katana grunted and there was the sound of a male voice crying out in pain, /-we should do this betting thing more often. It seems to be a fairly effective-/ There was another scream, /-motivational tool in the field./

There was the sound of automatic gunfire, /Yeah, maybe we should make a few side wagers; make the loser do the windows as well as the dishes./ The report of the machine pistol erupted from the speakers once again as Lyla spoke, /I fucking hate to do windows. Hey Slick?/

"What's going on?" Felicity asked.

/Not much,/ Lyla told her before the line erupted in more gunfire, /It's just that I'm a little bit pinned down right now by a bunch of these ARGUS assholes so you're going to have to pilot both the drones remotely./

/You shouldn't call them that,/ Sara said panting as she continued to battle along the south side of the perimeter opposite from her position, /It wasn't too long ago that you were one of those ARGUS assholes, remember?/

/How could I forget?/ Lyla said, unleashing another volley of bullets. /Working with Amanda was both a joy and a privilege,/ she said sarcastically.

/Is it just me, or is that Deadshot guy kind of cute in a scruffy pirate kind of way?/ Helena asked harshly followed by the whoosh of air being displaced by her bolts, /Fifteen./

/Sixteen,/ Sara said, /And because of that I just lost all respect for you, not that I had a whole lot before now./

"I've got the secondary drone," Alice said quietly from beside her.

Felicity nodded, "Katana, Blackhawk; are you still with us?"

/We're good!/ Lyla told her. /Now that Katana's here it's practically a cakewalk./

/There are a lot of them though,/ Katana told her. /Far more than you'd expect to see with a surgical strike team./

/She's right,/ Lyla said, firing her weapon again followed by the metallic clack-clack of her reloading the clip, /They came prepared for a battle which means they knew something we didn't, like the fact that the League was going to be here./

/Actually, it's worse than that. Blackhawk, Katana; you seeing what I'm seeing?/ Sara asked.

"We need to keep the coms channels clear of idle chit chat, ladies," Dave said from his place beside Mordred. Felicity threw him a dangerous look and he wilted slightly under her stern gaze.

"What's going on?" Felicity asked, turning to Mordred.

/Shit,/ Lyla cursed.

He focused the sat cam onto their position, "I'm seeing heat signatures at the rally point."

/Meaning they've got our transpo surrounded; we've got nowhere to go but forward now,/ Lyla said roughly.

/Are you flanked?/ Sara asked tersely.

/Not yet, but we will be soon./

"Huntress, cover Gypsy. Canary, can you secure the extraction point alone?" Felicity asked.

/She's gonna have to,/ Lyla said, /Right now Katana and I are in defilade. If it wasn't for these rocks we'd be toast./ They heard the sounds of bullets pinging across the cover in question.

/I've got it,/ Sara said confidently. /As soon as I take out the guys surrounding the Zinda, I'll be back to help you guys out. How many am I looking at?/

"I'm seeing four, no five heat signatures," Mordred told her.

/Copy. Hear that, Huntress? Better get ready for dishpan hands 'cause I'm gonna be ruining my figure with ice cream./

/I've never washed a dish in my life and I'm not starting now,/ the other woman shot back. /Eighteen./

/ Like, not even in the dishwasher? How do you go through life without ever washing dishes?/ Gypsy asked quietly.

/That's 'cause she's-/ there was a grunt and the sounds of more punches, /a former rich girl Mafia Princess, emphasis on 'princess',/ Sara told her. /Seventeen./

"I would just like to point out that I technically come from even more money than Huntress does and I have washed plenty of dishes," Felicity said off-handedly as she continued to monitor the action.

/She also makes a mean Red Headed Slut,/ Sara added.

The three techs beside her all turned in her direction.

"It's a drink," she told them. "Speaking of which, if you can get through this with all your parts attached, I'll treat the whole team to a round of slutty Jägermeister shots at a girl bar I found the other day."

/Goddamn, that sounds good,/ Lyla breathed as she continued to discharge her weapon. /I haven't had one of those since the Great Tequila Debacle when Thea was behind the bar and she got Roy to put on lipstick and a pair of heels./

/I still have that picture on my phone,/ Sara said. /I'm just waiting to use it for leverage the next time I need somebody to detail my car./

"You bring the warm bodies and I'll provide the hangover cure afterwards. Huntress are you in position?"

/I got the kid,/ she answered.

She glanced up at the screen, checking the heat signatures on their location since the second drone was being tasked over the jet, "Okay, here's the plan; Gypsy, I need you to cloak the drone, Huntress, and yourself, then go slow. I'm going to be flying this thing remotely and I need to keep it less than a meter off the ground for it to be effective. Be careful and watch your footing because the target will only light up for a couple of seconds. I need you to take point and lead Huntress through the minefield since she's going to be too busy covering your back to pay attention."

/Fucking great,/ Helena muttered.

"Stay back a minimum of twelve feet and, even then, shrapnel is a better than even concern if this thing goes off but any more than that and you might get lost in the weeds." Her brow furrowed in thought, "Can you use your abilities to 'mark' the placement of the mines as you pass as well as cloak yourselves?"

/I—I don't know,/ she said uncertainly. /I've never actually done anything like this before./

/Shit,/ Helena cursed, /I'm about to get my ass blown all to hell and back, aren't I? I'm telling you right now, if this chick doesn't manage to get me killed, I want hazard pay. A lot of it./

/Stop whining! Like you don't almost get yourself blown up every other day,/ Sara scoffed.

/Yeah, but that's just for fun. This shit here isn't fun!/

/She has a point,/ Lyla said reluctantly.

Felicity shut her eyes and concentrated, "Listen to me; just focus on my voice. Don't worry about the League or ARGUS, or even your objective; let Huntress worry about that. All I want you to worry about is shielding yourselves and marking the landmines so you can get out of there with the packages."

/Got it,/ Gypsy said, the uncertainty fading from her tone.

Alice glanced over to her with a curious expression but she ignored her, instead keeping her mind centered around Gypsy. For once she had three other techs to handle the others so she could focus her attention entirely on just one member of her team. "Listen to my voice, I'll walk you through it; do you trust me?"

/Yes./

"Good." She activated the drone and put her hand on the toggle. The camera went live and she began her scan, "Hang back until I tell you to move." One of the landmines lit up, "On your two o'clock, see it?"

/Got it,/ Gypsy said and the air above the mine began to shimmer.

"Now move but go slow," she said, continuing to sweep the area. "To your left." Again the air began to shimmer. "Slow, slow, now stop. There's a mine right ahead of you. Step over it carefully since he decided to be clever and plant a few of them on either side as well."

/I see it./

/This is bullshit,/ Helena muttered followed by two more sounds of air being displaced and the snapping of the crossbow mechanism. /Twenty./

/You're still behind by five,/ Sara told her. /I finished with mine and now I'm off to find a few more./

/They're starting to thin out but we caught one of the men sending out the call for reinforcements,/ Katana warned. /We need to get out as soon as possible./

/We're at the door,/ Gypsy said, heaving a sigh of relief.

/Yeah, now for the really easy part like taking down a fucking Russian mountain,/ Helena said sarcastically.

"Mordred, check for heat signatures in the building," she ordered.

The man next to her offered her a pleased grin at her use of his preferred handle then got back down to business, "I've got two hot spots on the first floor."

"Stop!"

/Why? What's up?/ Gypsy said in confusion.

Something was tickling at her consciousness and she turned her head slightly at the flash of green at the edge of her vision. She blinked and looked at Alice who appeared not to have even noticed her moment of discomfiture, "Uh, Creote is ex-Spetsnaz so chances are he booby-trapped the door. Huntress, check for tripwires while Gypsy, use the LDS gun in your pack to scan it. And, just a suggestion, stay off the welcome mat. This guy is really fond of explosives."

There was a popping sound and the camera on the secondary drone went dead followed shortly by the one she had been piloting near the cottage.

"What's going on?" She asked, looking up at the darkened screens.

"I'm seeing movement and gunfire," Mordred said from beside her as he watched the sat feeds that were a few seconds behind real time.

/Some stragglers took out the drone but we got them,/ Lyla told her.

/Us, too,/ Helena said darkly.

"Is everybody okay?"

/They're fine,/ Sara said brightly. /Luckily for them I just happened to be in the neighborhood./

/Yeah. Lucky,/ Huntress said dubiously.

/We're going to breach now,/ Sara told her.

"Okay, Gypsy; let Huntress and Canary do the fighting, I want you to concentrate on maintaining the illusions in the minefield and dealing with keeping Creote distracted. Try and cloak yourselves as best you can; hopefully he can't hit what he can't see, but your first priority is to maintain focus on the mines. None of this counts if you can't get back out of there safely."

/C—py-/ And then there was a loud buzzing noise as the coms cut out.

"What's going on?" Felicity asked, typing in a command to see if she couldn't bring the coms back on.

/N—t sure,/ she heard Lyla say over the heavy static. /Th- *bzzt* -ind of s-gnal jammer./

Mordred quickly expanded the sat images so they could see what was going on, "I've got five heat signatures in the compound—wait, make that three." He said and they watched as two of the red figures suddenly disappeared off screen while the three others moved out towards the rally point.

"What's happening?" Miranda asked, stepping forward while Wildcat and Laurel, both of whom had been pretty much silent the entire time, stepped closer as well.

Felicity felt the first flickers of panic curl in her stomach, "I need a status report, over."

"Canary? Answer me; what is your status, over?"

For a few seconds her heart stopped and then Sara's voice came over the line, /We're okay./

Felicity took a deep breath, "You scared the crap out of me."

/Sorry Cutie-Patootie, but one of those ARGUS asshats set up a jammer on the perimeter./

Miranda stepped forward, "Do you have Creote and Savant?"

/No./

"Why not?" She asked tersely.

/They weren't there./

"What do you mean they weren't there?" She demanded.

/She means they weren't there,/ Huntress answered for her, /Sorry lady, but your intel was for shit./

"There were two heat signatures," Miranda said slowly, her dark eyes flashing angrily.

/Free standing electric heaters,/ Sara cut in smoothly, /set up to fool the infra-red. Savant might be looney tunes but he's not stupid./

"So all of this was for nothing?" Mordred muttered from beside her with a scowl.

"Apparently," Felicity murmured. "Any casualties?"

/Some cuts and bruises only,/ Katana told her. /We're heading to the extraction point now to get out of here before more ARGUS reinforcements show up./

"Negative, Katana," Dave said from the other side of Mordred. "You still have an assignment to track down-"

"Get to the transport and come home," Felicity told them sending 'Dave' another warning look.

/That's the plan, babe,/ Sara told her. /Be home in a little while./

"Be safe," she told them before the coms went dark.

"Why did you stop them from completing their original objective?" Miranda asked her. She didn't appear angry, merely irritated.

Felicity spun around in her chair and gave the other woman a steady look, "Creote and Savant weren't there."

"They were," she told her.

"At some point, yes," Felicity agreed, "However, to find them they'd have to do a full perimeter search and that's assuming they didn't evacuate hours ago. It's obvious that they knew they were about to be attacked and they had time to prepare for it. Also, if my people say the risk isn't worth the reward or they feel it's time to abort, we abort. I won't risk their safety unnecessarily."

"Risking their safety is what they get paid to do," Miranda said coolly.

"Well, throwing people's lives away for nothing isn't what I signed up for, sorry," she said calmly. "If you disagree then feel free to fire me."

The control room went silent once again as both Wildcat and Laurel surreptitiously took up defensive positions just in case another battalion of Amazons showed up. Meanwhile, both Mordred and Alice glanced at her before turning their chairs towards the other woman as well as if to demonstrate their support. The only person in the room not looking at her with approval (besides Miranda) was Dave. He was busy giving Miranda heart-eyes while occasionally giving her a go-to-hell glare.

She decided she really didn't like Dave.

"I hired you because of your experience in handling a team and you did that," Miranda said after a pause. "I may not like the results but I chose you to act as director for a reason and tonight you proved that."

Dave shot her an incredulous look then glared at Felicity again which she ignored.

"Thank you," she said instead.

Dave's screen lit up, "Um, Ms. Tate, there's an incoming call from Ms. Rochev; shall I transfer it to your office?"

"It's the Director's office, not mine, but yes," she said, chastising him lightly and causing the younger man to look even more disgruntled than he had before. "Good job everyone," Miranda said, glancing around the room with a slightly stiff smile. She turned to Felicity, "I believe we agreed to a private meeting after the mission; if you'd care to follow me to your office after you're done out here?"

"Certainly," she said smoothly. "Alice, continue monitoring the channels in case the team runs into any problems and, Mordred, keep sweeping the area; if Creote and Savant are there I want to know where."

"And what about me, Director?" 'Dave' asked stiffly.

"Take five, Dave," she told him with a dirty look.

"Yes ma'am," he said with a touch more respect than before.

She gave both Wildcat and Laurel a reassuring nod as she moved past them to 'her' office for what she suspected was about to be a formal dress down. When she got to the door she was surprised to note that, unlike Isabel would have done, Miranda chose not to take the power position behind the desk. Instead she sat in the same comfortable chair she had at their first meeting as she spoke on the phone.

"Well, that's unfortunate," she said to the person on the other end of the line. Her mouth was turned down in an unhappy expression, "No, no just come home after you tie up the loose ends there and we'll regroup. See you then," she said ending the call and setting the phone down on the low table in front of her. "Please sit," she invited.

Felicity shut the door behind her before slowly heading to the couch opposite to her then waited.

"We're not HIVE nor were we responsible for Lois Lane's breakdown."

She looked at the other woman in mild surprise and frowned, "Okay."

"That said, we do suspect someone else of being HIVE," she added.

"Who?"

"Lex Luthor."

"Okay…" she said again, only slower and with a great deal more confusion.

Miranda looked at her curiously, "Do you know what HIVE is?"

"A terrorist organization," she offered.

She smirked, "No; HIVE was originally an alien invasion that merely appeared to be a terrorist organization."

"Say what now?" Felicity said doing a double take.

She nodded, "They were a collective species with a hive mind, similar to bees which is why they referred to themselves as 'HIVE'. They were also extremely short-lived like mayflies so their goal was to control the human race beginning with key members of the government and business leaders so they could eventually transfer their consciousness into human bodies and take over the planet."

She glanced behind her for a second, half-expecting to see a camera crew or at least some kind of banner that said 'April Fools' even though it was February. She blinked, "Seriously?"

"Seriously," she nodded, "Unfortunately, the process of transferring their hive mind into a human body proved lethal to most humans so they needed to 'improve' us first."

"Improve us," she repeated.

Again the other woman nodded slightly, "They had technology that allowed them to, not only temporarily control people's minds, but also to transform our DNA. The plan was to send out a carrier wave originating from their mothership down to Earth which would then be dispersed on a mass scale and trigger a spontaneous metamorphosis in everyone with the right genetic profile. In other words, meta-humans."

"How?" Felicity asked, even though she could guess where she was going with this.

"That's where things get interesting," she said with a slight smile as she leaned back in her chair. "Did you ever stop to wonder how it was Dr. Harrison Wells received so much political and financial support for his particle wave accelerator despite the public outcry over the project?"

"I just figured he greased a few palms," she said honestly. Something about Wells had always bothered her a bit so she'd always assumed he wasn't as innocent as he claimed. However playing fast and loose with the politically corrupt and being the harbinger of an alien invasion are two very different things.

"Not quite," she said dryly. "The aliens planned to use the particle accelerator to trigger the change, but it wasn't entirely successful. The idea was to not only trigger the dormant metagene, but to leave those affected by it empty husks that could be immediately 'occupied' by members of their race. Unfortunately for them, but fortunately for us, Dr. Wells' experiment overloaded and exploded before it could disperse the entire wave."

"So…" Felicity began.

"So in that way the particle accelerator did cause the sudden appearance of uniquely enhanced men and women."

"No, I got that…kind of. I was just going to ask how you found out about this?" She asked, pursing her lips.

"That's an even more complicated story," she told her. "It starts with the fact that when they sent the carrier wave that blew the accelerator, it bounced back and also overloaded their ship's systems somehow causing it to break up in our atmosphere."

Felicity scratched at her earlobe and furrowed her brow, "Not to, you know, um…" she stuttered and tilted her head slightly, "No, no, I'm…yeah. Okay. If, and I do mean *if*," she began slowly, "that were true, don't you think someone would notice that a big huge space ship blew up above Central City?"

"Not really as they had cloaking technology which allowed their ship to appear invisible, however," she said, "after the explosion a few government and private agencies *did* notice and immediately set out to retrieve any wreckage that didn't burn up in the atmosphere. Can you guess which ones?"

"ARGUS," she said in resignation. Because when isn't Amanda Waller in charge of her shitty day?

Especially since Moira and Slade were dead,

"Still," Felicity added, "people would have noticed a bunch of space debris falling from the sky, don't you think?"

"Ah," she said with a pleased smirk, "Now that's where you'll have to suspend your disbelief momentarily."

"Yeah, well, I've kind of already been working on that," she told her.

Again with the smirk.

"The mechanics of it all escapes me but, according to ARGUS experts, the HIVE ship was powered by some sort of temporal engine; something to do with quantum singularities or some such."

"Like Doctor Who," she said dryly. "Who knew Amanda Waller was a Whovian?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar."

"Don't worry about it," she told her. "Anyway, you said something about 'temporal engines'?"

"It was just a theory, of course, but when the ship blew, some of the remnants were not only dispersed physically but temporally as well."

"I don't believe it," Felicity said cutting her off. "Look, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, honest to God, but if you're going to try and bullshit me you could at least do me the courtesy of making it sound realistic."

"It's true," she said with a hint of amusement. "I realize it sounds fantastic but it is a fact that some of the wreckage traveled through time as well as space. Luckily, the vast majority of it disintegrated in the atmosphere, but some made its way to a few key spots throughout the world. One part of the engine landed in or around 1200 BCE on a remote island called 'Themyscira'."

"The Amazons," she said pursing her lips and arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, the Amazons. They found the engine and hid it for safe keeping. They thought it was a gift from the gods as, not only did devastating storms appear around the island that couldn't be seen from the island itself thus protecting it from invaders, but the island began to move, its coordinates constantly shifting even though the occupants on the island experienced no geological instability whatsoever. In addition, as long as the Amazons remained on the island, they stopped aging entirely and began to demonstrate superhuman abilities."

"So….Amazons," she said slowly. "Real Amazons. Like in Xena."

"Real Amazons," Miranda confirmed. "Also, as Wildcat will tell you, there were metahumans long before the particle accelerator explosion. Our theory is that other pieces of the wreckage may have been responsible or that it has to do with some kind of radiation. Another piece of the wreckage landed in Gotham in our timeline around three or so years ago then somehow wound up in ARGUS hands where it was supposedly destroyed but was instead moved to an abandoned military base on the other side of the country on Amanda Waller's orders."

"You're talking about the Omega Device, aren't you?"

Miranda didn't so much as bat an eyelash.

You've got to be fucking kidding me with this shit, she thought. It's like something out of a bad Syfy channel flick. What next? Sharknado hits Kane Square, news at eleven? When the hell did shit like this become real life? When the *hell* did actual real conversations about aliens and time travel become *her* new normal? Goddamn fuck a duck!

The other woman's eyebrows shot up at that.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" Felicity muttered, "The whole thing or just the last part? Because, yeah, I do that sometimes but I have been getting better so…yeah." She looked at her, "Sorry about the 'Sharknado' thing and the 'fuck a duck' part...and the blasphemy…if you care about that sort of thing which, you know, I can understand if you do and I'm cool with it, just, uh…yeah. Time traveling alien invasion force, you said? And they want to bodysnatch us and turn us into superpowered bee people. Wow. Kind of makes you never want to eat honey again given that people don't have a honey stomach or a ventriculus, and I can't imagine that even if we did have those organs that the process of trophallaxis would be all that pleasant for either party involved…" She caught the look on the other woman's face, "Yeah, Sharknado…" she said roundly then popped her lips softly. "So you were saying?"

She cleared her throat, "Anyway, Lex Luthor is a collector of unique objects and came across a sample of the 'pollen' the HIVE aliens used in the mind control process. Ever since then he's been trying to get his hands on more and more of the alien tech. Amanda Waller has as well and the two of them are well on their way to forming an alliance. Waller feels that all metas are a threat to national security and must be eliminated or conscripted and controlled. Luthor doesn't really care as long as he gets the power he seeks. Together and separately, they've been aggressively searching for as much as the tech as possible."

"So how do the Amazons fit into this?" Felicity asked.

"Luthor has been hunting down the lost island of Themyscira for years and nearly found it. Waller came even closer. The Amazons, hoping to make a peace treaty with us, sent out a representative who Waller immediately had taken into custody assuming she was just another meta. In addition to the princess-"

Felicity cut in, "Princess?"

"Diana," she offered.

"Oh. Princess. Princess Diana, yeah. We've met; tall, gorgeous, great hair…yeah," she said then motioned for her to continue.

"In addition to the princess, Waller had gotten hold of some of our assets as well. When we stormed the holding facility, we released Diana along with our own personnel. After getting to know us and our methods, she helped open negotiations between the Themyscirian queen and our organization." She leaned forward slightly, "The Amazons quickly decided that the best way to protect themselves would be to throw their lot in with us and form a partnership. The 'army', the HIVE operation, all of it is about keeping Luthor and Waller from getting hold of any more potential weapons."

"So…who are you planning on using the army on; Waller, Luthor, or the League?"

"All of the above," she told her. "The League for obvious reasons, and Waller and Luthor because both of them have used the memory pollen as both a tool to increase their power base or, as in Lois Lane's case, a weapon."

"Okay, I'm….I'm going to stop talking about the bee aliens for a second so I can…process this whole 'thing'," Felicity said blowing out a harsh breath. "Not that I expect to be able to do that anytime soon…like ever."

"Amy other questions I can answer for you then?" Miranda asked.

Felicity looked at her and decided to throw caution to the wind, "How much do you know about Ra's al Ghul?"

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Batman landed them on the nearby rooftop and immediately, and without ceremony, dumped Superman on the ground.

"Thanks for that," the other man said with a scowl as he leveraged himself upright.

Batman watched as the other man seemed to gain in strength and got to his feet, albeit still a bit shakily, "What was that back there?"

"I don't know," he said dusting off his armor with a grimace. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me before."

"Did you hit your head?" He asked gruffly.

"No, it wasn't from the fight; I don't know what it was," he said with a sigh. "All I know is that one minute I was fine and the next thing I knew it was like all my energy just drained away and I hit the deck." He shook his head ruefully, "That was a unique experience I hope not to be repeating anytime soon."

"Do you need medical attention?"

"No, but thanks," he said, a bit more sincerely this time. "My armor can take care of any residual medical concerns until my healing factor kicks in. I should be back to 100% in a few minutes."

He eyed the other man's suit again, this time with interest, "Are you really an alien or are you a metahuman?"

"Alien," he said a bit reluctantly, "but I've lived on Earth almost all of my life." He threw him a challenging look, "And just in case you were thinking of asking; no, I have no intentions of leading an alien invasion or taking over the world."

"Actually I was planning on asking you about the armor next but that's good to know," he said wryly.

"It's alien, too. It's actually a type of symbiotic—no, wait; what did Luthor mean by 'your mutual friend'?" He asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I don't know." Which, unfortunately, was the truth. He didn't know and he didn't like the fact that Luthor had chosen to use the same code phrase Felicity used with Detective Lance or that he referenced the Wayne Foundation Charity Gala in such a way that implied he knew who he was under the cowl.

As if reading his mind, Superman's expression hardened, "Could he have possibly been referring to your fiancée, Batman? Or should I say Bruce Wayne?"

"No, Superman, or should I say Mr. Kent, he was not," he said without skipping a beat.

The other man paused, "How did you-?"

"Try wearing a mask," he said brusquely.

"Most people don't notice anything past the glasses," he said shifting a bit uncomfortably.

"I'm not most people," he said.

"So I noticed," he said flatly. "Forgive me buy how exactly does a billionaire philanthropist go from running board meetings and hosting charity galas to donning a mask and fighting crime?"

His phone buzzed and he removed it from his belt to check it.

Baby. "It's a long story; one I don't really have time to tell at the moment," he said curtly as he reluctantly hit 'ignore'.

The other man eyed his phone curiously, "Sounds like a pretty unique story."

"You'd be surprised," he said dryly as he tucked the cell back in his belt. "How did you get the information you confronted me with this afternoon?"

"I heard you talking about it with Mr. Fox, just like I heard him talking over your coms earlier," he said, tapping his own ear lightly.

/Fantastic,/ Lucius grumbled in his ear.

"Enhanced hearing." It wasn't a question.

"Among other things."

"Hmm," he said noncommittally.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I intend to out you to the public as Batman?"

"No."

"Why not?" He asked curiously.

"Because even if you did, no one would believe you," he said simply. "And, even if they did, no one would believe Lucius Fox was in, what did you call it?" He paused, "Ah yes, 'cahoots' with the Batman."

/I can hardly believe it myself most days,/ Lucius said grouchily.

He gave him a knowing look, "And also because if I did, you'd expose me as Superman."

"I don't need to," he deadpanned. "Again, you might want to think about getting a better disguise than a pair of glasses and a lack of good grooming habits."

"It was a pigeon," he flushed. "You know what? Never mind. Now do you believe me about Luthor being the one behind all of this? It's fairly obvious he knows something."

"I don't doubt he does but, if he is behind the attack on Lois, then who was the woman who broke into his vault and what was she looking for?"

"I don't know but she was strong," Superman muttered. "At least as strong as me." He blew out a frustrated breath, "Could she have been the woman he was referring to then? Had you ever seen her before? He mentioned the gala; I'm assuming he means the one your foundation is hosting, correct?"

"I've never seen that woman in my life," he said honestly. "It didn't escape my notice, however, that she never spoke or even made a sound. Also she appeared to be almost blank faced throughout your entire altercation; robotic almost."

"You think she was a robot?" He asked, his eyebrows lifting in disbelief. "'Cause I can tell you, she wasn't." The other man again flushed slightly, "I, uh, my hand may have slipped and…"

"That's enough, I think I've got the picture," he said sardonically.

"Okay, well, not a robot," he said, averting his gaze. "So what now?"

"Now we go back to Gotham and work it from that end while you continue to look into Luthor here," he told him. "In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you kept me in the loop and I'll do the same if I find out anything on my end."

"Okay," he said in mild surprise. "What about the paper?"

"No promises," he told him. "Like I said before, it's a business decision, not personal, but if I do wind up selling the paper I'll figure out a way to see to it you keep getting a steady paycheck. I'm sure we can find a place for you at Wayne Publishing."

"It's not about a paycheck," he said with a hint of irritation.

"I get that," he assured him, easing up a bit. "Look, you can't compromise on your ethics and I can't let down my shareholders. Even if we can clear Lois's name and can prove your theory about Luthor, the paper is still going to take a huge financial hit from all this. If I sell the paper, we might be able to avoid layoffs and Edge is the one making us the best offer right now."

"Fine, I get it," the other man said with a grimace.

"I meant what I said about getting you a job with Wayne Publishing," he offered again.

"Thanks but I can find something on my own if it comes to that," he said nodding.

"Keep my number," he told him, taking that as his cue to leave. "And if you change your mind we can work something out."

"I will," he said with a hint of newfound respect despite his obvious disappointment, "Also, I want you to know I intend to keep your girl out of it; not because of the offer, but because…" he gave him a crooked smile, "Anyway, thanks for having my back."

Batman nodded once then turned and deployed his grappling gun once again. As he swung out into the night, Lucius spoke.

/So Superman is actually Clark Kent, award winning journalist and Wayne Enterprises employee?/

"Apparently," he said gruffly.

/I can't wait to get home and turn over the handling of your coms to someone else,/ Lucius said with a sigh. /Even in Metropolis you can't go to a simple business meeting without running into another damn mask, can you?/

"It wasn't exactly intentional," he told him as he ran across another rooftop as he raced towards their hotel.

/It never is with you people. And to think; my life used to be so normal./

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

"How much do I know about Ra's?" She said with an empty smile that didn't reach her eyes, "Probably more than any other person on the face of the planet. Why?"

"You said before that Orbital was formed specifically to go after groups like the League and Ra's in particular; is this Amazon army of yours part of that?" She paused, "I mean, in addition to stopping us all from becoming giant bee people."

A hint of real amusement ghosted over her expression, "They weren't trying to turn us into 'bee people'. They were trying to-"

"I know, turn us into empty drone vessels so they could dominate us with some kind of hive mind thing; yeah, you say tomato, I say 'giant bee people'," she said waving her off. "Anyway, so is it?"

"Well, they aren't exactly an 'army'; they're a group of like-minded female warriors with whom we share common goals, but yes," she nodded. "Ra's is desperate for true immortality and the Amazons have that on Themyscira which is but one of the many reasons why we haven't discussed them or their mission with anyone. Right now ARGUS, the League, and Luthor view Orbital as a rival and an annoyance, not a threat. Luthor and Ra's because we're women and therefore incapable of beating them and Waller because she believes herself to be virtually untouchable. If they knew our goals and about our connection to the Themyscirians, all three groups would be storming the gates and we'd be forced to fight their war instead of ours. When the time comes, and it is coming, we intend to launch an all-out strike to wipe out the League once and for all."

"What about Luthor and ARGUS?" She asked, "Do you intend to take them down as well?"

"We do," she admitted, "But not in the same way we intend to take down Ra's. Waller and Luthor have to be taken out by far more subtler methods."

"Like, say, a political scandal?" She asked her.

"We weren't behind the attack on Lois Lane," she said again.

"But you were part of it."

Miranda sat back on the couch and observed her quietly for a moment before answering, "Yes."

"Okay," she nodded slowly. "So do you mind telling me what it is that's been going on this entire time?"

She took a deep breath and grimaced, "One of the reasons we targeted Queen Consolidated, besides the fact that Oliver Queen is the Arrow, is because his company and LuthorCorp have frequently done business in the past when Robert Queen was in charge. However, Luthor is even more paranoid about his security than Bruce Wayne and that's saying a lot. He's constantly surrounded by a virtual army and trusts absolutely no one. However, even Lex Luthor has to delegate. For a few years now, ever since the particle accelerator exploded and the world learned of 'meta-humans', Luthor has slowly been building an uneasy alliance with Amanda Waller but, because he has political aspirations, he often sends an intermediary in his place."

"Sebastien Mallory," she offered then frowned. "That doesn't make a whole lot of sense; Mallory is just a junior executive in his company; even though he managed to screw the pooch with the Miller thing, he's still nowhere close to the top of the LuthorCorp food chain."

"Exactly," Miranda nodded, "He's expendable and he's close enough to the top that Luthor could meet with him and not arouse suspicions but low enough in the totem pole that no one would immediately suspect him. But all that changed with Miller."

"So you're telling me that you did all this just to take out one of Luthor's guys?" She said, her voice echoing her disbelief.

"Think of this like a chess game or, better yet, a spider web. Everything is being held together with delicate little stands but, sooner or later, when enough of them are tripped, the spider catches her meal," she said with a cold smile. "Miller was, in addition to being a corrupt pig, in Waller's back pocket. While he was blackmailing everyone else, she was blackmailing him. We needed to take out Waller and Luthor so we did it by using their own assets against them." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a slightly more confidential level, "One of Isabel's greatest strengths, besides her business acumen, is her ability to get what she wants by instantly profiling her mark and then using his or her weaknesses against them. With Miller it was greed and with Mallory it was sex."

"Isabel was sleeping with Sebastien Mallory?" She said in surprise.

She nodded, "I didn't really get into the particulars of it with Isabel but, apparently Miller is fond of pain and likes being dominated, a role that Isabel is familiar with from her past relationship with Robert Queen."

Felicity's jaw dropped, "Seriously?"

"Surely that can't come as a surprise," the other woman said in mild amusement. "She told you that Robert was bisexual and frequently engaged in swinging as well as group sex."

"Yeah, but that doesn't always equate being into whips and chains, too—not that I know anything about that kind of thing," she said quickly, then added, "and not that being into that kind of thing is bad! I mean, people like what they like so who am I to judge, but…" She took a breath, rubbed her temple, and blew it out slowly, "Okay, I don't think I want to know about this after all. There are just some things I do not need to know."

And certain people that I still have to face eventually…

Miranda smirked at her reaction then continued, "Robert had memberships in several elite underground sex clubs that catered to the rich and powerful and, through her long-standing relationship with him, does Isabel. One of her contacts informed her that Mallory was a member of one of these underground clubs so she made contact and formed a relationship with him. At first, she merely intended to use him to find out what Waller and Luthor were planning, but Mallory soon became a more valuable source of information than either of us had ever suspected. He told us about a mind control 'pollen' that they had discovered and that both Waller and Luthor were attempting to synthesize."

"HIVE," she injected.

Miranda nodded, "However they didn't have a lot of it, only a small sample, and their efforts to synthesize it were hit or miss at best. The original pollen made the users absolutely loyal and obedient to the HIVE Queen but they still appeared normal for the most part. The synthesized formula, however, caused its victims to behave either like mindless drones or induced severe seizures and memory loss."

"Like with Lois Lane."

"Exactly."

"So Luthor used this drug on Lane?" She said in confusion.

"Mallory did," she said with a grimace.

"Okay," she said slowly as her brain began to throb with pain.

She was definitely going to have to take some aspirin after this conversation. Or maybe morphine. Or better yet, Diggle's 'aspirin'.

Frankly, this whole conversation was as painful as a gunshot wound right now.

"Isabel spent months grooming Mallory, setting up the deal with LuthorCorp, and getting him to bribe Miller while we carefully put our plan into action. Lois Lane had been investigating Miller for a while. When the time came, Isabel contacted Lois Lane anonymously and dropped a trail of breadcrumbs that eventually led her, not only to Miller, but to Mallory and LuthorCorp. The plan was to take out Luthor and Miller while Waller was busy dealing with the fall out over the drone strike she ordered against the Blood Army a year and a half ago. Miller was her ace in the hole with Oversight. Without him there to use his influence on her behalf, their whole house of cards would fall."

"So what went wrong?"

"Isabel apparently didn't have as much control over Mallory as she thought she did," she said grimly. "The plan was always to name Mallory as the whistleblower who took down Luthor. Lois never actually met her true source, Isabel, as they'd always exchanged information via dead drops and untraceable email accounts. Isabel, on behalf of Mallory, agreed to reveal 'himself' during the hearing in exchange for an immunity deal. It was a good plan," Miranda said with a scowl, "but like all plans that depend solely on the actions of others, things sometimes go wrong. Isabel had promised to take care of Mallory financially but, as the hearing wore on, things began to change. He became more and more demanding and changed his mind about coming forward once he realized that he'd never be able to work for another tech company ever again. Isabel's other mistake was that she was so focused on her job at QC, that she forgot why she was there in the first place," she said with a hint of darkness that had Felicity recalling what it was Isabel said about how Miranda wasn't a businesswoman and therefore didn't understand how things worked. "She spent so much time treating her cover like it was a real job instead of babysitting him like she was supposed to, that he began to have doubts. He started to believe that, not only would she renege on her promise to take care of him, but that Luthor would get off since Edge was making him out to be some kind of martyr who should run for president. If that happened, he knew he'd be dead. He panicked basically; he thought that even with the immunity deal, if Luthor didn't go down, he would, so he got a sample of the synthesized pollen and somehow managed to dose her."

She ran her hand over her hair and narrowed her eyes in confusion, "But if she didn't know who he was, then what good would dosing her do? I mean, unless he knew she'd collapse like that?"

"Yes, well, that's the other thing. If you watch the footage you'll notice that up until the senator begins asking about her source, Lois appears perfectly fine. Mallory used the drug to leave a post-hypnotic suggestion to make her appear confused and unreliable as a witness. He also bragged to Isabel about the fact that he had someone hack into the files to take care of all the evidence. I doubt he intended to induce her stroke, but I doubt he really cared either way because her collapse accomplished what he set out to do."

"When I watched the hearing Mallory was smiling so, yeah, but Miller was pretty calm as well; was he in on it, too?"

"And this is the part I was getting to. We believe Mallory made a side deal with Miller," she said at last. "Unfortunately, as I said, Isabel lost control of the situation and, as a result, Mallory went rogue and stopped communicating with her so I had to send her in to try and salvage things."

"Salvage how?"

Miranda gave her a calculating look, "Felicity, you've worked for the Arrow, you've been in situations where sometimes unpleasant options have to be explored…"

"You're going to assassinate Mallory?" She asked incredulously.

"No, not assassinate; we have a policy of not killing civilians unless we have no other choice. We did, however, intend to take him into custody so we could find out where Luthor is keeping the tech. Besides, as it turns out, it wasn't us Mallory should have been worried about; it was Miller."

"I'm totally lost…" Felicity said faintly.

"Think about it," she said calmly, "Why do you think he chose to make his take down of Lois Lane so public?"

"To discredit her, like you said," she frowned.

"That's part of it, but he could have just as easily had her confess to making it all up before the hearing or influenced the Oversight committee to sweep it all under the rug, plus this drug was unreliable and he knew that. Things could have easily gone wrong, the drug may have worn off or she could have fought its effects and his plan would fail. Mallory may be a greedy, spineless bastard, but he isn't stupid. Even if everything went absolutely to plan, his reputation was already ruined and he was desperate to salvage something from all of this."

"So…what then?" She said shaking her head before her mind seized onto what she was implying, "You're saying that Mallory and Miller staged all that so they could somehow cash in? How?"

"We know Mallory has access to this synthesized pollen and we have intel says the hearing was their way of demonstrating the effectiveness of the drug to the highest bidder. Already there are rumors that several terrorist organizations around the globe are interested in getting into a bidding war over the drug but they already have a buyer in mind; can you guess who?"

"Ra's al Ghul?" She said taking a stab in the dark.

"Bingo," she said with a triumphant grin. "Our own contacts say that Miller is making it known to the right people, meaning Ra's and his intermediaries, that he can get them what they need for the right price but the senator isn't really known for sharing his profits with others. We knew that once Mallory handed him what he needed, he'd be dead, plus Mallory knows where Luthor is keeping his private stash, as it were." She looked at her, her countenance grim, "Can you imagine what someone like Ra's al Ghul could do with a piece of technology that has the potential to enslave the entire planet?"

"You said that the synthesized drug didn't really work though," she pointed out. "Plus, according to you, there's not a whole lot of it which means…"

"Which means nothing," she told her flatly. "I said Luthor had been unsuccessful at synthesizing the drug, that doesn't mean Ra's will be. For all of Luthor's power and resources, he still has to color somewhat within the lines. He has Waller as both an asset and a liability and, as Mallory illustrated through his actions, even your most trusted employees can betray you. He has to employ scientists and researchers to work on the formula and he has no other choice but to keep his operation discreet which is why he hasn't yet succeeded. Ra's doesn't have that problem. His followers worship him as their prophet, they are absolutely loyal to his cause, and he, himself, is a brilliant scientist and polymath who has lived hundreds of years. If anyone could make this technology work, it's Ra's, and we can't allow that to happen."

"So Isabel has gone to kidnap Mallory?"

She nodded, "We sent in a small team to retrieve him and to break into Luthor's private vault at Lexcorp. It was a longshot, but we thought that given the fact that Mallory seemed to have access to the drug that Luthor could be keeping it close at hand and in a place Mallory also had access to, so it made sense. Unfortunately we were wrong…about a lot of things."

"What do you mean?" She asked with a frown.

"Mallory is dead," She said with a sigh as she leaned back in her chair.

"Isabel killed him?"

"No," she said dryly. "Isabel merely found the body. She called to tell me that when she got to Mallory's office he was dead. Chances are it was either Miller or Luthor who got to him first; we're going to assume it was Luthor since, as far as we can tell, the deal hasn't gone down yet. Until Miller got the tech, he needed Mallory alive. Additionally, the operation to break into Luthor's vault proved fruitless and the team we sent to his apartment also came up empty handed as did Isabel when she searched his office."

"So what's plan B?" She asked as she attempted to continue to suspend her disbelief.

It wasn't easy though. Soup to nuts, this whole thing was turning into a total mindfuck.

Again Miranda's eyebrow arched in amusement.

She tilted her head up and shut her eyes as mortification rolled right on over her, "Yeah, I have really got to stop saying what I'm thinking out loud…"

"'Mindfuck' is a pretty accurate way of putting it actually," the other woman said wearily. "Now you see why I didn't loop you in right away."

"So, wait; I'm still missing something here," she said rolling it all over in her head. "If all of this was the plan all along, even if it didn't pan out, then why would Isabel implicate herself and QC? The only reason she didn't get caught was because I covered her tracks in order to protect Oliver's company; that's how this whole thing got started in the first place."

Miranda's mouth curled into a triumphant smile, banishing some of the gloominess from her expression, "You didn't save Isabel. Or rather, you did, but she never intended on implicating herself."

She blinked, "Now I really am lost."

"It was your job interview."

Her brows drew together, "Pardon?"

"Isabel intended for you to 'discover' what she was up to. We knew who you were and what you were doing for the Arrow for months."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times but honestly couldn't come up with anything to say. Finally she went with, "I punched Isabel."

In her defense, it had been a long night.

Miranda chuckled, "Yes, you did," she said with a grin. "That was both unexpected and a big part of what really sold it for both of us."

She placed her hand across her forehead and just stared at her openmouthed, "Just—just—okay, what…?"

Miranda leaned in, still chuckling, and placed a supportive hand on her knee, giving it a gentle pat, before sitting back again, "I'm sorry for deceiving you like that but we needed to know if you were really the right candidate for the position we wanted to offer you. Had you decided to leave Isabel to her fate and let QC go down in flames, well, obviously you wouldn't have gotten the job."

"Okay, let's say I believe you, then how did you know Lois Lane would try to hack QC and how did you know I'd catch it?"

Her grin widened, "Isabel is a very good actress and probably one of the best operatives I've ever seen when it comes to infiltration and inveiglement, however, she's not always the best judge pf character. While she knew about your role in the Arrow's organization, she was convinced that you weren't right for Orbital because of your suspected relationship with Oliver Queen."

"I knew that part, yeah," she said dryly.

"I wasn't so sure," she told her. "There was no real proof of a physical relationship between you and, even if you were involved, it didn't mean you weren't qualified. We were aware that you'd been strengthening QC's firewalls, especially since we were trying to lead Lois towards Mallory and part of that was allowing her to hack the right files. Our own team here discovered your improvements months ago which is what really caught our interest. We also knew you suspected Isabel which, given that Oliver had all but handed her the keys to the kingdom, brought you up further in my estimation." She gave her a steady look, "I realize how this is going to sound, and I'm sorry Isabel was hostile and rude towards you, but her behavior was designed to throw everyone off and, with the exception of yourself, she was successful."

"Wait, back up; how was Isabel's hostile and inappropriate behavior supposed to throw anyone off?" She asked.

Again, Miranda threw her a sardonic look, "As you know, men are fairly straightforward thinkers for the most part. They often see only what they expect to see, even when the men in question are used to wearing masks themselves. From the very beginning Isabel was playing a role. She came into QC as the ice queen and planned to allow Oliver to 'thaw' her over time. Men like Oliver enjoy a challenge so that's what she provided. She challenged him in the boardroom and then in the bedroom. After he got what he was after, she took on the classic role of 'jealous woman' by behaving in a catty and aggressive manner towards you."

"That was the plan?" She said dubiously.

"It worked, didn't it?" She shrugged, "Oliver Queen is a man of habit, like most men are. He's used to the women he chooses behaving in certain ways. When he slept with Isabel and then she supposedly became jealous and aggressive towards you, because he expected her to behave that way, it made it easier for him to dismiss her as a non-threat. It sounds illogical, but it's simply reverse psychology: She provided a target, allowed him to 'win', then showed him the behavior he wanted to see. It played into his ego and when you reacted to her behavior and tried to warn him something was off, he was able to dismiss your concerns because he perceived your distrust of her in the same way he did Isabel's behavior. He simply saw you as two women reduced to fighting over a man which, again, played into his ego."

As Miranda spoke she went from confused to pissed, although she wasn't sure if it was at herself, Oliver, or Isabel.

However, her money was on Oliver because, yeah, that did make perfect sense.

"So you dismissed me as a non-threat," she said.

"Isabel did," she admitted, "but her ego got away from her in that regard as well. I, however, saw your potential. When our team here couldn't easily hack your firewalls even with Isabel on the inside and all of the tech available to us, I knew I wanted to recruit you. We investigated you and were pleasantly surprised to learn of your connection to both the Batman and the Arrow who, in a way, acted as your professional and personal references."

"So, you decided to see my entire life as one big résumé?"

"Isn't that what a résumé is?" She countered. "It was your curriculum vitae; your whole life has led up to this whether you realize it or not. Not every MIT graduate or loyal EA can be an effective handler for a team of vigilantes, much less two. You have to have a special kind of fire in your belly for that. Furthermore, to be the director of this facility you had to show that you were capable of operating independently of the Arrow's mission. You did that when you made the choice to save Isabel and the company while still allowing Lois to get to the information she needed to take down Miller. *That* was what got you the job. Hitting Isabel?" She grinned, "Well, that just put you over the top, in my opinion. Plus, I'll admit to wanting to do that a few times myself."

She, however, wasn't smiling.

"So this whole thing, from day one; it was all connected?" She said skeptically.

"Spider web," she reminded her. "All of it was built on subtle connections that, from the outside seem to be completely unrelated, until you look at it the right way. First there was the particle accelerator exploding and the sudden increase in people with meta abilities. Luthor and Waller, both for similar reasons, began pursuing the lost technology; Luthor because, more than anything else, he thrives on power and Waller out of her own prejudice and twisted sense of patriotism. Mallory linked the two of them then formed another link to Miller who then came under our scrutiny by fielding offers from organizations headed by Ra's al Ghul which led you to this point."

"Yeah…I guess that makes sense," she frowned.

She was still missing something but what she had no clue. Even as unbelievable as her story was, it did all make sense in a weird way. Even if she didn't believe all of it, the pieces fit together almost perfectly.

Maybe too perfectly.

Shaking off the sense of dread slowly creeping over her she asked, "So what now? Miller still has the tech, right? Or Luthor. What's plan B?"

She took a deep breath and her expression once again grew grim, "Plan B was Savant," she told her. "He's *the* information broker in our world. If anyone would know who has what we need and where, it would be him. That's the reason why Waller and the League want him so badly."

"But the mission to retrieve him failed," she finished for her, suddenly understanding why Miranda was so stressed during the op.

"That's the reason we conducted the three missions simultaneously. We were hoping to be successful with all of them but, as long as we got one, we were good. Now though…"

"Is there a plan C?" She asked hopefully.

"Not yet," she admitted grudgingly. "However we'll regroup and try again. Just because we lost the battle doesn't mean we've lost the war. Of course, now that Luthor knows what we were after, he won't be letting his guard down again for quite some time. The good news is that if he has the tech he'll be disinclined to use it for a while. We hope anyway, but we don't intend to take our eyes off him either."

"And Miller?"

"If he made promises to Ra's that he can no longer keep, we won't have to worry about him for much longer," she said darkly.

"But he could," she pointed out.

"I doubt it," she said shaking her head. "Even if we're wrong, he won't risk exposing himself until all this dies down and that will buy us some time. With Mallory's murder happening a day after Lane's collapse, all eyes are going to be on him and, if he tries to sneak out of the country, he'll be a sitting duck for the League, ARGUS, and Orbital so, chances are, he's going to stay put for now." She addressed her calmly, "So now that you know everything, what's the verdict?"

Felicity looked at her quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"Are you staying with the organization or are you leaving?" She asked pointedly.

Good question.

"First answer me this; are you purposefully drawing in members of Batman's and Arrow's teams and, if so, to what end?"

Miranda propped her elbow on the armrest and tapped her fingers on her chin before answering her with a look of amusement, "Yes, we are, but we're doing it for you."

"Me?" She asked, taken slightly aback.

"We chose people you could trust, people you had either already worked with or who you knew of through your association with Batman."

"But they told me they've been working here since the facility opened…" she said shaking her head.

"And I also told you that we've been watching you for months as well," she reminded her. "We wanted to make sure that when you got here you'd be surrounded by people you knew you could trust; people you probably would have picked for yourself if given the opportunity."

"But what if I had turned down the job?" She asked her.

"You were never going to turn down the job," she said confidently.

"How do you know?"

Miranda smiled, a genuine smile that, this time, did reach her eyes, "I knew because, when I see you, it's like I'm looking in a mirror. We're two sides of the same coin, Felicity. I merely picked the kind of people I knew I would choose if I were in your position. If nothing else convinced you to take us up on our offer, I knew that having the opportunity to run your own team filled with men and women you admired and trusted was something you could never turn down. And tonight, the way you handled your team and got them to focus on the mission despite their initial reluctance, proved just how much they trusted you and you trusted them. You can't buy that kind of loyalty; that's something you have to earn and you did that."

"Thanks."

I think, she added mentally.

Miranda got up from her chair and Felicity followed suit.

"Look, I've given you a lot to process and I want you to take a few days to really decide whether you want to remain on the team," Felicity opened her mouth to speak but the other woman cut her off. "I insist," she said firmly. "Besides, your family will be busy preparing for the Foundation event and, because the city will be in an uproar until the weekend, we're shutting down the facility until Monday."

"I didn't think vigilantes took holidays," she said jokingly.

"Batman is this city's guardian, not Orbital," she reminded her. "Eventually we would like to have an open relationship with both his team and the Arrow's but, for now, our focus remains global, not local. Other OO branches can take up the slack for now. Your team may not have been successful but they deserve a reward for what they've been through and you need to absorb everything I've told you and really decide for yourself once and for all if this is what you want. If you decide to leave, I'll understand, but I hope you'll stay. At the very least, I want you to know we consider you to be a strong ally and the door will always be open should you choose to return."

"Yeah, thanks," she said quietly. "And, um, sorry about tonight…"

Miranda smiled at her and ran her hand down her arm in an almost sisterly manner, "Hey, like I said, the war's not over yet. This isn't the first battle we've lost and it won't be the last. That's why we call our core team 'Leviathan' and why I chose the handle 'Tiamat'; even through all the chaos, even if it looks like we've lost, we always rally. As women, as sisters, we will always find a way to win, nothing can ever keep us down for long. We'll just take this setback for what it is, learn from our failures, then come back even stronger next time. We're survivors, remember?"

"Right. Yeah. Survivors."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Felicity walked outside with Laurel, dialing Bruce as soon as she was at the car, "Do you want to stop by an all-night diner on the way home? Maybe get a burger or something?"

"Actually, Renee and I already made plans. She wanted to go get something to eat before we hit an early meeting together," she told her. "Do you want to come along? I know you might not want to hang around for the meeting but you could come back and pick us up then we could all go do something?"

His voicemail picked up so she hung up the phone and got inside the car, cranking up the heat as soon as the engine turned over. "Naw, that's okay. Do you guys want to use the van? I know you don't want to ride on the back of her motorcycle in this weather, right?"

"Definitely," she nodded. "Are you sure you're okay with that? Renee will have to drive."

"It's fine by me," she pulled up to the gate then glanced at her as they waited for it to open, "You know, I can fix that driver's license issue for you. All I have to do is hack into the system and take it off your record. I can even make you a new license right there in the FelicityCave; I have all the equipment for it already set up. Bruce has to forge documents all the time so…?"

"Yeah, I appreciate it but…" she wrinkled her nose slightly and gave her an uncertain look, "I think I need to do this the hard way. If I let people keep fixing things for me…it makes it easier to fall back into bad habits, you know?"

"I get it," she nodded.

"Thanks though," Laurel said warmly. "You've really had my back and…" she swallowed, "I want you to know that you've become more than just a friend; you're family."

"You, too," she said, reaching out to clasp the other woman's hand warmly before heading off into the night. "Us birds of a feather have got to stick together, right?

"Damn straight," Laurel said with a grin, "Birds of Prey forever, Baby."

"I just realized something," Felicity said with a frown.

"What?"

"If no one lost the bet then that means that I'm probably going to get stuck doing the dishes, aren't I?"

"I'll help you," she promised. "And Renee can dry since we definitely know she can't cook."

"True," she said, remembering the eggs the other woman had made them. "At least the eggshells gave them a nice crunch."

"I've never had eggs that were both over and undercooked before," she said shaking her head. "Next time we should just do what Luke did and have Pop Tarts instead."

They took a second to grin at each other.

"Birds of Prey forever, right?"

"Birds of Prey forever," she agreed.