Disclaimer: Not mine.
Vigilantes' Dawn
By Kylia
Chapter 21: Well Beyond The Line
A great hero is defined by a great villain.
It's a fact true in fiction, and it's a fact true in life. Had Malcolm Merlyn not set out to destroy Starling City, there would be no Arrow. There would be no Black Canary. And without them, of course, there would be no Arsenal, Speedy, Spartan or Jade Falcon. There would almost certainly be no Atom. And there is a case to be made that there might be no Flash, or at least, a very different Flash than we know.
But beyond even that, the Arrow and Black Canary might never have had the chance to rise above their standings - the Arrow as an object of fear, the Black Canary limited to the Glades, even if as a symbol of hope - had the Undertaking not begun.
It is impossible to know truly, how Malcolm got the idea for his plan. What pushed him into deciding that the only option for the Glades was to burn it down and start anew, but he did. His plan was clever, even brilliant. His apologists to this day have argued that had he been allowed to enact it properly, the death toll would have been effectively zero, and Starling City would have begun the economic boom of the mid-2020s a decade earlier.
Of course, his apologists would be wrong. And yet, that doesn't stop them from periodically publishing books. Most notably, of course, is "The True Undertaking: The Arrow, the Black Canary, and the Plot to Frame Malcolm Merlyn," by Josiah Crane.
Little ink needs to be spilled here explaining just how wrong that book, among all the rest, are. It is sufficient to note that Crane's "PhD" was accredited by an educational institution he founded and co-chairs.
-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.
The Foundry
March 10, 2013
Laurel had never really been one for healthy coping mechanisms, or good ways of dealing with stress. No one in her family really was, judging by how her family had reacted to her 'death'. Dad had run to the job and to the bottle, Mom had divorced her dad and run off to Central City and Sara had run after her dad into the law, and barely had much of a social life, buried in her work as a cop.
Granted, outside of Oliver and Sara, I don't have much of a social life either. She had her job, and she chatted with her coworkers as much as she had to, but she'd begged off various invitations to go out for drinks or whatever with the group after work, and she hadn't been as social as she could be.
Granted, it wasn't like she didn't have things to do, but still.
Regardless, healthy coping mechanisms for stress were not something she really had, and now was certainly one of those times. Oliver was out of the woods, the blood transfusion had worked - saving up all that blood of his, just as she had done for her own had been time consuming, but it had paid off. His heart had been restarted, and it was beating steadily, more or less, but now she was standing here, watching the monitor, waiting for her boyfriend and partner, practically literal soulmate, to wake up.
And acknowledging that it was possible he might not. It was unlikely, not now that he was out of the woods, not after that desperate scramble to keep him alive when she'd brought him here, barely on the edge of life after his own mother had shot him.
Granted, Moira Queen hadn't known it was her son she was shooting, but in the moment, at the time, she had been quite certain that if Oliver died, she wouldn't care about that fact.
But that hadn't happened, and now she just had to wait. The possibility existed that Oliver would end up in some sort of coma, for days, weeks, months or more. It wasn't very likely, but the way the human body handed traumatic injury could be quite variable.
In the League, she'd gotten people in the neck with arrows, and seen them live. She'd seen people die after seemingly minor injuries. And she'd seen people recover quickly, and people take a long time to recover.
"You got him here in time, Laurel." Diggle said softly, walking up to stand next to her. He chuckled hollowly, "When I saw you two taking a pint of blood every now and then to save up 'for a rainy day', I thought you guys were taking it too far. Being prepared, I mean."
"It's one of the things you pick up in the League." Laurel said, "You can't go to a hospital when you're on the job. So you prepare for that eventuality if you're going to be away from Nanda Parbat for a while."
"Does the League even have modern medical equipment?" Diggle asked. "I mean, they have you running around using bows, arrows and swords."
"The League isn't a collection of Luddities." Laurel clarified. "We're well trained to use technology in pursuit of our goals, but we don't rely on it. Guns are a crutch - swords, knives, bows, darts - they require precision. Discipline. Focus."
"Using a gun does too." Diggle pointed out.
"But anyone can pick a gun up and use it. You have to be good with a sword to get away with using it." Laurel countered. "Case in point: Us sparring with wooden swords." She gestured to the wooden swords in question, a relatively recent addition to the training area of the Foundry.
Diggle followed her gesture, and winced in memory. "Fair enough."
"The League doesn't want a mission to fail because you expected your tech to work and it didn't. But there are actually medical facilities at Nanda Parbat. I wouldn't call them State of the Art, but they are modern enough." Laurel had been surprised when she learned that - not so much about the fact that they had modern facilities, but that they had medical facilities at all. She'd been three months into the League by that point, had broken her arm and nearly broken both legs, and gotten a whole host of scars in her training, and had not seen the inside of those facilities.
And given how little regard Ra's had seemed to have for his own people, the idea that he'd waste resources on treating their illnesses and injuries seemed hard to accept.
But apparently, once an Assassin had truly proved their worth, the League was willing to treat their injuries and illnesses, if incurred on the job. And of course, childbirth. Nyssa and her older sister weren't the only ones born to the League, though it wasn't common. But disease was a risk - in the 1300s, the Black Death had nearly wiped out the League, and since then, the League had always done their best to have all the resources possible to treat illness.
"But they weren't big on letting us use painkillers." Laurel added. You were expected to stay still through the pain, when having bullets removed or injuries sewn shut, and if it was a more complicated surgery, then they'd just knock you out, but again, no pain killers. And especially not after the surgery.
Diggle scoffed, "That sounds more like the League you've described." Diggle walked away and sat down in front of the computers, looking at the List, then back at her. "If Oliver didn't get anything from his mom, what's next? Round two once he wakes up?"
"She's probably going to have security stepped up on her for a while, so probably not." Laurel pointed out. "And... I don't think so. It was hard enough for Ollie to do this - that he hesitated with her at all is why he got shot." She closed her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into the base of her hands as she licked her nips, shifting a little as she stood. She should be trying to get some sleep, or at least sitting down, but she couldn't.
Standing here was pointless, torturing herself with scenarios where Oliver didn't wake was pointless, and second-guessing what she did when Ollie got shot - she'd moved as quick as she could, and there was no way she could have gotten him into the car faster, while also getting that car.
Shit.
The car was still not far from Verdant. She'd have to take it somewhere else, ditch it.
And then there was another issue - Oliver's blood would be at the scene. The police were going to be called in - they had been called in already, no doubt. Forensics all over the scene.
Oliver's blood in the car would be easy enough to deal with. She'd have to burn the thing. She didn't like the idea of burning someone else's property, but that was what car insurance was for. And she didn't really have much choice.
But the blood at the crime scene itself.
Laurel swallowed as the obvious solution presented itself. Sara.
I don't want to put her in that position.
But did she have any other choice? Short of breaking into the crime lab herself.
Well, I could do that. She couldn't do it in the Black Canary outfit - she couldn't have the Black Canary known for breaking into some place associated with law enforcement. But she could wear a mask, and it wasn't like she couldn't beat the security there, with the right preparation.
And she had time. Sara and her father were always complaining about how much a backlog there was at the Crime Lab, especially with blood samples.
Pulling away from watching Ollie, Laurel grabbed a bottle of accelerant and some lighters. "Pull up the schematics for the city's crime lab," Laurel told Diggle. "They're already in the system."
Diggle looked at her, "Wait, really?"
"Like you said - we like to be prepared." They had hacked the city for plans for every city-owned building - City Hall, even. It hadn't been hard to get those plans, really. Starling City had really skimped on it's cybersecurity.
"What exactly are you-" Diggle started, and then he closed his eyes. "Right. They'll have a sample from the crime scene."
"I'm not asking Sara to deal with it." After Sara hadn't turned them in, she was sure Sara would, if she asked. But she wouldn't put her sister in the position where she had to do that. Had to cross that line.
"But first, I have a car to burn and evidence to destroy." Laurel started to head towards the stairs, then she hesitated, looking back to Oliver.
"He's going to make it." He gestured to the heart monitor. "The beat's solid, his blood's replenished. He'll probably be awake by the time you get back from burning the car."
"Hopefully," Laurel said after a moment to take a deep breath.
Starling City Police Department
March 10, 2013
Sara was a little amazed she hadn't been put on any sort of suspension after she'd worked with the Hood to rescue her sister, but while the Police still wanted to catch the vigilantes, after the Hood and Black Canary took out that other archer over christmas, the priority was lower. And frankly, she figured the Lieutenant knew that the rest of the department would probably have done the same, if their loved ones had been in the hands of someone like Vanch.
And she had - as far as the cops new - told them everything she knew about the vigilante. Not much that could be useful, but she'd given the sketch artist details on what she had claimed was a glimpse of his face - not much to go on, just a bit of his chin and the side of his face.
Not that it's actually Oliver's profile I described.
"...I appreciate there are other cases, but this is-" Sara turned towards the sound of her father growling into his phone. "Yes, it is that important. This is high-prof-" he paused again, "damnit, Franklin, no, I'm not saying-" another pause, as Franklin - presumably Nick Franklin, one of the analysts at the crime lab, judging by what her dad was saying. "You have to do better than five days. We're talking about the Hood here."
The Hood? Shit. She'd seen on the news this morning that the Hood had 'attacked' Moira Queen in her office last night, and Oliver had said he was going to have to press his mother for more information, given the deadline they were facing the revelations about what had happened to the Queen's Gambit, and her salvage of it, but she hadn't thought he'd left any evidence behind.
Crap. Never before had Sara been thankful for how backed up the crime lab was, but as she watched her father argue with Franklin, she spared a small prayer to the gods of bureaucracy that the plans to increase funding to the crime lab had gotten caught up in committee with the City Council last year and had made no progress since.
She also listened in on the call.
"Every day this guy is free - no, look I'm not saying," another longer pause, "yes, I know, I know. Every detective tells you their case is -" her father dropped his head into one hand, dragging it down his face as he sighed. "Look, please, just faster than five days, I'm begging you." pause. "Yes, begging you." He frowned, "Three days?" He let out another sigh, smaller this time. "Alright. I'll take it. I'll owe you one, Franklin." pause. "Okay, more than one, fine. Three days - I'm holding you to that." He hung up the phone.
What do they have? What happened to Oliver? It wouldn't be fingerprints - he wore gloves and prints wouldn't take five days to run, even with backlog. So it had to be something else.
"What has you arguing with Franklin now?" Sara asked, moving to her desk. "Something about the Hood, from what I heard on this end."
"Sara," her dad looked up, and she realized he looked terrible.
"Did you get any sleep last night, dad?" Sara demanded, sitting down and grabbing a report that had landed on her desk, skimming over it quickly.
"I tried. Got back home when the call came in about the Hood's visit to Queen's mother." Her father explained. Sara started at him - that was nearly midnight. He met her gaze, as if challenging her to call him out. Which she really couldn't do - she had stayed at the precinct past midnight herself more times than she wanted to remember.
As if speaking of his lack of sleep reminded him how tired he was, he reached for his coffee mug, then muttered a curse as he realized it was empty.
"Here, let me," Sara said, getting up, walking to his desk and grabbing his mug. She had her own mug in her other hand.
If her dad had found DNA that could lead them to identifying Oliver as the Hood... her dad might cover for Laurel, maybe. But he wouldn't for Oliver. Not with everything the Hood had done. She had enough trouble accepting the Hood's murders, but her father? No.
Which left her with only one real choice - she had to find out what her dad had found, and then she had to destroy it, or steal it, or something. Sara found herself moving on autopilot as she made the coffee and poured it into the two mugs before coming back. Mostly, though, her mind was working through the problem, and the inevitable conclusion.
She'd made her choice - she wasn't turning in her sister, or Oliver. They broke the law. A lot, in Oliver's case. But they were doing good things for the city, and as long as this... League hung a death sentence over Laurel's head, they had to keep working the people on that list, they had to find that Dark Archer. Oliver didn't kill as a first resort, and she could probably make sure he killed even less people by helping them.
But now that she'd made her choice, she had to stick with it. Destroying evidence... that's the sort of thing that would have her arrested, not just fired from the Police Department. But she had no real choice, did she? Even if she didn't value Oliver as a friend and his contributions as the Hood...
Oliver being arrested, and taken to prison for his 'crimes' as the Hood? Sara didn't want to imagine what that would do to Laurel, assuming she didn't just break him out anyway. She'd seen the way the two were around each other. Not only had it really always been the two of them, always and forever, Oliver and Laurel - her childish crush years ago aside - but now? Sometimes, it was like watching one person in two bodies, the way they were around eachother, the way they fit together.
And from the sound of everything the two of them had been through those five years... Sara was pretty sure the only thing keeping them both from cracking under it all was the fact that they had each other.
So if nothing else, for her sister alone, Sara had to get rid of that evidence.
I'm sorry Dad.
She touched the Detective's badge at her belt for a moment, taking a breath as she accepted the reality of her situation.
Law really is just a means to an end. She told herself, even though she'd already made her decision and didn't need to rationalize it more.
Finally, with the coffee done, she went back to her father's desk and set his mug down in front of him. He'd propped one arm on the desk on his elbow and rested his head on his splayed hand. Sara cleared her throat.
"Wha-" Her father jolted up, blinking quickly. "Wasn't asleep... yet," he added that last part with a mutter, but he lifted the mug and took a slow, careful sip. "Thanks," he added.
"Welcome," she nodded, then leaned against the edge of his desk as she sipped at her own coffee. "So, what were you arguing with Franklin about?" she asked again.
"The usual - trying to get the DNA faster. At least I managed to talk him into moving it up a few days." He sighed. "He's right - every cop that hands something in to him tells him all about how urgent it is, they need it yesterday."
"Well, we usually do," Sara pointed out. "But he's overworked and understaffed over there, so it's what it is. What did you find though? I mean, the Hood's never left anything behind yet."
"Bastard got himself shot. Queen's mom managed to hit him. Not sure how, but I guess the guy let down his guard. Didn't think she'd put up a fight." Her father explained. Sara managed to stop herself from inhaling sharply at the news that Oliver had been shot. For a moment, she started to worry, tensing just a little, but she took another sip of her coffee and used the mug to mask her lip as she bit it for a moment.
If he was seriously hurt, Laurel would have called me. And if he was dead... I'd have heard that too. Or seen some sort of reaction from the Black Canary.
"He got shot?"
"Yep. Probably just a grazing hit, since he went and vanished right after, but left enough blood for the CSI guys to get a sample for testing." He sighed, "Hood probably won't be in the system, but at least we'll have something for comparison."
Is Oliver's DNA in the system? Sara didn't know - his fingerprints were, from his previous arrests, but she didn't think anyone had taken his DNA. And in theory, the failed trial should keep suspicion off of him.
But still. She couldn't let it be tested. Once they had it...
"Well, you've been after the Hood for six months. What's three more days?" Sara pointed out.
"You'd think it would be that simple," Her dad grumbled. He looked up at her, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Sara lied, sipping again at her coffee. She started walking towards her desk. "Just... working through something. Personal."
"Too personal to talk to your old man about?" Her dad smiled a little, "what, guy trouble? Girl trouble?"
Sara rolled her eyes, "Dad, when would I have time to meet anyone?
"It is possible to meet people when you're a detective, Sara. You and your sister are living proof of that." He pointed out.
"Weren't you still a beat cop when you met mom?" Sara pointed out, chuckling. But he did have a point - they had made their relationship and then their marriage work for years and years after he became a Detective.
Of course, then it didn't work out.
She still had trouble understanding why her mom divorced, then ran off. She sort of got it - the house reminded her of Laurel, and it's not like Dad had been handling his grief well. But she just... ran off. Like it was so easy.
Our family isn't really one for healthy grieving. Or healthy coping in general. Sara enjoyed the occasional beer, or, if the occasion required it, a glass of wine, but despite occasionally wanting to try something more, she'd avoided ever trying anything else. Not with her dad's history. And her mother's method of coping with things was to just pretend they didn't exist, usually.
The many and sundry times she'd acted out as a teenager, for example.
Okay, now I'm being unfair. Sara was usually unfair to her mother, though, she knew. And she really needed to stop thinking about her mother or she'd end up spending hours down that particular rabbit hole. And that was not especially productive or helpful, especially now.
"True," Her father admitted. "I just want to see you happy, Sara. Lord knows that's the only reason I ever put up with Queen six, seven, eight years ago. Made your sister happy. Still does - though I do have to admit, he's a lot better than he was. Making something of himself, that club of his."
"Wait, you're actually praising a nightclub?" Her father hated nightclubs. Especially when she or Laurel had gone to them. Especially her, since she was the one to always get up to the worst there.
"Not the club, but Oliver Queen's not just resting on his name and his family's money anymore. He's actually trying to start a business, earn something through hard word. I respect that." He chuckled a bit, "though his family money gives him a leg up over the rest of us."
"Point," she nodded. She let out a sigh. "I should get to work." She had to prepare for her testimony at Vanch's trial, whenever that happened, and she did have cases she was working on. And she had to find time to get to the crime lab, figure out how to get that blood sample.
Security at the crime lab was good, but she had every right to be there, so she could get past most of it pretty easily. The real risk was cameras - when the crime lab reported the sample missing, they would check security cameras, and then there was every risk they'd see her getting the sample.
I have three days before he runs the sample. Which means I have time to go down there, get a look at what I have to worry about. See where the cameras were.
It was time to think like a thief.
The Foundry
March 10, 2013
"Welcome back to the land of the living," Diggle said as Oliver sat up slowly, blinking. His shoulder hurt. He was on one of the tables in the -
He looked down at his shoulder, the bandage there, and his memory of last night returned - confronting his mother, her holding up the picture of Thea and him, lowering his bow...
And his mother shooting him.
He'd never even known his mother knew how to use a gun, let alone that she was prepared to use one against another human. Though her shots had been wild, reckless. If he'd been paying better attention, been on his guard...
He probably could have moved enough for it to be just a grazing shot, rather than one quite so bad.
"Dig," he nodded. "How bad did it get?" He looked around and saw the heart monitor and defibrillator next to the table. "Very bad, I'm guessing."
"We were worried for a little bit in there, but once we got your heart going again, I figured it was just a matter of time." He chuckled, "Next time I start to joke that you're being too prepared, remind me that we had to use some of that blood you stored up to save your life." He shook his head. "And you were never a Boy Scout?"
Oliver smiled slightly, "No. I went camping with Dad and Tommy a few times, sure, but I wasn't really one for that sort of hard word and diligence as a kid." Might have availed him better on Lian Yu if he had, but then, nothing could have prepared him for Fyers or the rest of the things that happened to him on Island and afterwards.
"Where's Laurel?"
"She went to dump and burn the car she stole to get you here. Blood's all over the seat." Diggle explained. "She should be back soon, probably." He added.
"Right." He inhaled slowly.
"She was there for hours, waiting until we were sure you were out of the woods," Diggle added. He stood up, "What happened? Laurel was a bit light on the details. Just that your mom shot you." There was a note of accusation in his tone - the same note he'd had when he said he was going to follow Mom around for a bit in the first place.
"I didn't really have much time to explain to her," Oliver said, sighing a bit.
"Explain what?" Laurel asked as she started to come down the stairs. Then she blinked, saw that Oliver was awake and ran the distance between them, nearly vaulting over a table in her haste to get to him. She pulled him in for a hug, careful with his shoulder, holding him tight nontheless.
"Ollie!" She let out a breath. She didn't say anything else - she didn't need to. Oliver put his hands around her and held her in turn. She didn't need to say how worried she was - that much was evident in how she'd run to him. She didn't need to say 'never do that again!', that was evident in how tight she hugged him. For a moment, she laid her head on his uninjured shoulder, then opened her eyes and pressed a light kiss to his lips, before pulling back, though still keeping her arms around him.
"How do you feel?"
"Better than I probably should. But yes, I'll take it easy for the rest of the day." He kissed the top of her head gently, then pressed his own forehead against hers.
"I didn't say anything," Laurel 'protested', smiling a little.
"Did you have to?" Oliver countered, unable to stop from smiling a little himself. He pulled back and met her gaze. "Are you-"
"I'm fine. I'm not the one who got shot," Laurel pointed out. "The car's torched. I just have to get rid of any samples the crime lab might have taken." slowly, reluctance written across her face, she pulled back further from Oliver, dropping her arms to her sides as she looked back over to Diggle. "Did you pull up the details on the Crime Lab?"
"Yeah," Diggle nodded. He got up from in front of the computers, and Oliver followed Laurel over to them, watching over her shoulder as she looked over the layout of the building and the security therein.
"Looks like getting in will be the only real hard part." Oliver noted after a minute of silence. "Scrambling the cameras will be simple enough."
"True." Laurel nodded. "Especially since we know exactly where they are." She traced a route from the entrance to the room where the sample of his blood would likely be. "Three cameras, not counting the ones outside."
"Isn't this the sort of thing we could ask Sara for help on?"
"I don't want to force her to make that decision. If I asked, she'd do it, I'm sure. But stealing evidence is the kind of thing that gets her arrested, and even the suspicion could get her thrown out of the police. For all that she's complained about it, you know she loves being a detective, being able to help people the way she does." Laurel explained, not looking away from the screen.
"Besides," she added, "It shouldn't be that hard, really."
"No, probably not. Depends on how obvious you want to be," Oliver agreed. "If the sample goes missing, it's going to be obvious who did it. So is there any point in being subtle?"
"Not really, no," Laurel agreed. "As long as everyone thinks the Hood did it. The Black Canary can't have a reputation for breaking into the crime lab." Oliver nodded, making a noise of agreement. That much was true. The Black Canary could be seen working with the Hood, had been seen working with the Hood, but as a symbol of hope, she had to walk a line that the Hood had proven he was willing to go beyond.
The Black Canary couldn't kill, the Black Canary couldn't steal, the Black Canary could hardly go directly against the police. She had to be the hero, unblemished. That was the whole plan, and Oliver supported it, wholeheartedly. Starling City needed a hero to look up to.
"You could always wear the Hood again," Oliver suggested. "Or I can-" even though he was suggesting it - genuinely - he knew Laurel would say no. He didn't get out as much of the suggestion as he expected he would though.
"No," Laurel's voice was firm. She turned around in the chair to look back and up at him. "Ollie, you promised to take it easy, and you should."
"I've had worse," Oliver pointed out.
"And so have I, but that's not the point and you know it." Laurel countered, and Oliver sighed, nodding. "But that's a good idea, wearing the Hood. Shouldn't be anyone to see me, not for more than a few seconds, so people won't have as much chance to notice the Hood has suddenly lost half a foot in height, and isn't such a tree of a person anymore." She grinned, teasing him as she poked his chest lightly, far from his injury, of course.
"I thought you liked how tall I was," Oliver countered, smiling a little, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head again. Laurel laughed, putting one of her hands atop his as they met at her waist. She sighed.
"I was worried, you know," she said quietly. "I mean... there was so much blood, and then your heart stopped..." she trailed off, finding it hard to say more. She swallowed. "If you had died-"
"But I didn't," Oliver interrupted. "You don't think I worry every time you get hurt, Laurel?" He swallowed, the thought of her getting as hurt as he had just been... "But this line of work is dangerous. It's not like either one of us is about to give it up."
"No, I suppose not." Laurel admitted. "Not when there's still so much to do." She sighed. "Alright. I'll take the Hood. what do you think about this?" She gestured at the schematic again, then touched her finger to the screen, "I could get up on the roof with one of your zipline arrows, and then come in through the vents." She brought up the vent schematics for the building. "Gets past any security at the doors, and looks like I can drop into here. Scramble the camera here, go down this hallway, into the lab and find your sample. Probably on ice somewhere until they can run it." She traced the route. "Less cameras - just the one where I come in and the one outside the hall. I could probably get it done in five minutes, ten if something unexpected comes up."
"Looks like it would work." Oliver nodded. "I can't imagine they'd have security this far inside the building. Not with the city's budget as it is." Never enough, and always being directed towards too many things - and usually the wrong things at that. Though at least they weren't throwing it at a new stadium.
"City's budget being the way it is has made our jobs harder a lot, might as well help us out for once," Laurel agreed. "Alright. Soon as it's dark, I'll get to work. In the meantime," she stood up, "we need to talk about what we do next, and what your mom knows. And how we find out."
"We're not going to go after her again," Oliver said firmly. "You heard her - she begged. Not for herself, but for Thea. for me. I've gone after people with children before - they've never mentioned them, never asked to be there for them." Oliver shook his head. "Whatever she's doing, she's doing it because she has no choice."
"Ollie-" Laurel started,
"Laurel, you know my mom. Do you think she could ever be doing something like this - helping the man who killed Dad, who she thought killed me, if she thought there was any other options?"
"Just because she was trying to protect Thea, and now the both of you, doesn't make whatever she's doing for this... whoever the hell she was talking to, okay!" Laurel pointed out.
"She's right," Diggle commented. "And she did shoot you."
"She thought I was going to kill her. It's not like that wasn't the whole point of coming in and pointing an arrow at her." Oliver countered. "I just... didn't expect her to have a gun."
"Or she was hiding something," Diggle countered.
"That's not really at question. Of course she's hiding something!" Oliver countered. "You have her on tape. We know she knows things, but I also know that the only way we're going to get that information is if the Hood threatens her again, and that didn't exactly turn out well, now did it? I'm not going to hurt my mother - she's not evil, Diggle. She's just... she's scared. She was scared of the Hood, but it has to be more than that." Oliver shook his head, taking a breath.
Diggle shook his head, letting out a small sigh, clearly not convinced, but also seeming to acknowledge he wasn't going to win this one. "So you got shot and learned nothing. What happens next, then?"
"Well, we could keep spying on her, see what comes up?" Laurel suggested.
"How? Filling in for her driver's time off with his kid once was one thing, but I can't do that every month, and then there's the rest of the time when he's back on the job," Diggle pointed out. Laurel had nothing to say for that, but Oliver had a thought.
"We could bug her phone."
"She's probably not going to have conversations about her evil conspiracy on an open line," Diggle countered.
"No, of course not. But it would give us a better idea of what she's up to, and where she goes." And wasn't it possible to turn someone's phone into a listening device? Not that he had any idea of how to do that, but if they could figure it out...
"Even if she has the meetings face to face, she has to find out she's going to have them somehow." Oliver added. Diggle nodded after a moment.
"There is that. Easier said than done, but you do live under the same roof, so getting at her phone sometime shouldn't be too hard." Diggle considered, going on.
"No, it wouldn't. But if we're going to bug her phone, we'll want to make sure it's very well hidden." Laurel said. "And we're also going to need a different angle of investigation. We can't pin all our hopes on spying on your Mom."
"No, I suppose not. You sound like you have an idea though." Oliver raised an eyebrow.
"I do." Laurel nodded. "Felicity." Oliver blinked at her suggestion, but as she started to explain her thinking, Oliver couldn't deny her logic. "She's the one who got us onto your Mom in the first place. Walter had her digging into her - she told us about the copy of the List he found, but if we tell her what we know about this, and she tell us anything else she's found out..." Laurel shrugged. "Maybe it'll spark something. And with Sara in the mix now, anything we find out she can check from her side of things, legally."
"She does know who we are. Which was kind of the whole point of testing her with those obvious lies," Oliver admitted. "And it would be easier to make use of her skill set when we have to." He'd certainly considered it would sooner or later come to this, when he'd first decided to approach Felicity. She'd had any number of chances to go to the police with his obvious lies, and she hadn't taken them. And then she'd reached out to them with evidence that had given them several clues - the Queen's Gambit was sabotaged, his mom knew who by...
Who could be behind the List? It had to be someone his father knew, his mother knew, someone connected enough to know all the dirty little secrets of all the wealthiest and most powerful people in the city. Everyone in the list was up to something, if not a whole lot of things. Mostly financial crimes, too. So it would have to be someone aware of that.
Oliver felt like he had the beginnings of an idea as these thoughts worked through his head, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He inhaled for a moment, then nodded.
"Yeah, Felicity sounds like a good plan. But at the same time - you heard her. She did say she didn't want to know - I don't know if she wants to really be involved in... all this." He gestured to the Foundry around them, their costumes, weapons, et cetera.
"If she wants to find Walter, this is her best bet. Our best bet." Laurel pointed out. "You can give her the choice."
"True." Oliver looked over at Diggle. "What do you think?"
"She's practically an unofficial member of the team. Would be easier to get her help if she was part of the team officially, when you need her tech skill. And she might know more about Walter digging into things." Diggle nodded, "It's risky, but like you said, she already knows anyway, so how much more risk is it, really?"
"Some, but we're going to have to take that risk." Laurel pointed out. "If we wanted to avoid risk, we should really be finding a different line of work." She smiled a bit wryly. "At least there'd be less worrying, if we did."
"Maybe. But you wouldn't give up being the Black Canary any faster than Sara would give up being a cop." Oliver couldn't see himself giving up his bow and arrow any easier - he didn't find the same fulfillment in his 'work' as Laurel did in hers, but even once the List was dealt with... Starling City still had more than would need to be done, and he was hardly going to leave it all to Laurel, make her do it herself.
I guess I won't be hanging up my bow and arrows anytime soon. The thought didn't seem all that unappealing, in some ways.
Starling City Crime Lab
March 10, 2013
Coming back to the Crime Lab was easier said than done. First time she was able to manufacture an excuse, asking questions about an old case, as if she was thinking there might be more to it. She had known there wasn't, so the lab tech she talked to - not Franklin, one of the others, new girl, Sara couldn't remember her name - 'convincing' her that she was barking up the wrong tree about the DNA supporting her theory a second person was involved was believable, but it had given her a good excuse to be in the building. She'd been lucky enough to get a moment alone in the corner of the lab. She hadn't had enough time to grab Oliver's blood sample and get out with it, nor was she going to risk it in the open.
But what she had done was move it, out of place, to an entirely different shelf of the sample storage freezer, and hidden it behind several other samples. It wasn't much, but it would do until the night. It had still been a close call, the tech turning around moments after she was done.
Getting back into the crime lab tonight would have been just as easy - find some manufactured reason to come and talk to the one tech on duty this late. But it would have left witnesses, left a record. Night shift at the crime lab was one especially overworked lab tech: Victor Johannes. He wasn't a particularly likeable man, which was one of the side benefits of stealing this sample out from under him.
Fortunately, Sara had ways to get inside.
Wearing gloves, dark grey pants and a dark grey hoodie - better for blending into a city at night than all black - she approached one of the side entrances. It was watched by a security camera, yes, and also locked. There wasn't anything she could do about the camera but hide her face, which she was doing, and hope the security guard wasn't watching the monitors. She could handle whatever rent-a-cop was guarding the place, and if he called the cops...
Well, she'd have to have a plan B. But this was the only camera she'd be risking.
As for the lock itself - well, there were advantages to a misspent youth followed by being a cop and then a detective. Pulling a set of lockpicks from her pocket, she made short work of the lock, and slowly slipped the door open.
Breaking and entering, tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice... just racking up the crimes now, aren't you Sara? She slipped through the door, closing it slowly and quietly behind her.
I stand by what I said the other night. I am crazy.
She was an officer of the law, and here she was, breaking it, brazenly. Right thing to do or not, she shouldn't be doing this. Which of course, begged the question, is this really the right thing to do.
But...
She didn't really have the right to make that call. Or rather, to un-make it. She'd already made that choice. She wasn't really crossing the line here. She was already well beyond the line. Any right she'd had to question whether or not this was a good idea was a right she'd already exercised.
Crazy or not, here I come.
Shaking her head, Sara looked left and right, pulling up her mental map of the place from her visit earlier. There was no camera down the left hallway - it would be more round-about to get her where she wanted, avoiding the cameras, but she'd get there. Moving carefully and slowly, she walked through the dimly lit hallway, then into another room - the lunchroom - and through another door. She passed through a second hallway. Just up ahead, there'd be a turn down another hallway and then she could enter the lab from there.
She reached that hallway, turned down the last one, and drew close to the door. She reached for the knob and tested it. Locked. She started to reach for her lockpicks again when she heard something. It was the slightest step, the slightest movement, she wasn't even sure -
Hand dropping to her gun, Sara started to turn around, pulling a pistol - not her service weapon - from the holster -
Only to have it knocked from her hand by a blow to her wrist that left her right hand feeling numb, and unresponsive. Someone in a green hood was behind her, but Sara could immediately tell it wasn't Oliver. Too short and too-
"Laurel?!" Sara hissed. What the hell is she doing - oh. Right.
"Sara?! Laurel replied, sounding just as shocked as Sara had felt just a split-second before. Her sister moved forward a bit, and Sara could see under the hood that it was indeed her sister.
"I don't suppose I need to really ask why you're here, do I?"