Disclaimer: Yup, nope, mine not.
As always after these long breaks, I have no good excuse, I just... shit happens.
Some of what happens at the end of this chapter was, in part, inspired by Wrong Road to the Right Place by RayWritesThings.
Vigilantes' Dawn
By Kylia
Chapter 23: Dodge This
The Arrow's first year is known best, in popular imagination, and in docudramas and historical fiction movies and shows, as being the year of murder. That the Arrow was especially brutal that year, willing to kill anyone and everyone, cutting a brutal swath through Starling City, butchering left and right. The most noteworthy recent example of this popular myth is the recent Holo-Box game "Origins of Justice: Arrow Year One". While surprisingly accurate in a few ways, including the handling of the SCPD's mixed and sometimes confused response to the Hood, the game perpetuates the idea that Oliver Queen killed nearly everyone he targeted that first year, with the only villains that survive the game being ones that would later plague the Arrow again after that first year - the first Count Vertigo, China White, Cyvus Vanch and others.
The reality, of course, is that while the Hood did kill many - especially the armed security of his targets, though he was more lethal with the openly criminal ones among those than the semi-legitimate ones - he spared just as many of his targets, provided they returned the money they stole or otherwise made restitution for their crimes against the city.
It wasn't the Hood that killed Adam Hunt, it was Malcolm Merlyn.
The Foundry, Starling City
March 16th, 2013
Oliver ducked under Laurel's swing, grabbing at her waist, but before he could connect, she evaded, grabbing his neck and pulling him into a headlock - he pushed his way out of it and then she kicked, catching him on the knee - in a right fight, she might have seriously injured his kneecap with that move, but even in this, it was enough to drop him to one knee, and then she put her tonfa to his neck.
"I win," Laurel chuckled, and Oliver nodded putting his hands up.
"As usual," Oliver observed, nodding as she pulled the tonfa away. They both stepped to the edge of the mat and grabbed towels wiping down and drinking from bottles of water, breathing heavily, though neither of them felt all that spent - if they'd felt like it, they could have gone for at least another half dozen rounds with a lot more intensity.
"Do you two always go at each other that hard?" Felicity asked, turning away from the computers to look at them.
"This is them taking it easy," Digg told her. "I've given up trying to beat either of them." Didn't mean Jon didn't still spar against them both, but while Oliver once in a while managed to get the better of Laurel - usually because of pure luck - on the mat, Digg had yet to take him down, let alone Laurel.
Though he is getting better. You didn't make it through the US Army, especially the 105th Airborne, without excellent close quarter combat skills and the ability to adapt and learn to new tactical situations. Oliver didn't think it was impossible - far far from it - that Digg would start being able to beat him in a hand to hand fight, at least some of the time.
He was probably never going to beat Laurel, hand to hand. Nothing compared to the brutality of the League's training, nor the effectiveness of the result.
"Turned up anything on the man behind the list?" Diggle asked her.
"Nothing totally conclusive, no," Felicity admitted. "But maybe... something. I want to be more sure before I start giving Robin Hood Men In Leather over there a target list." Felicity had said that quietly, probably not specifically intending him to hear it. It took him a moment to get the reference she was making to that musical movie he'd seen once as a kid.
"I don't sing," Oliver told her, and Felicity cleared her throat and flushed a little, embarrassed.
"Right. Sorry." Felicity said quickly. "Anyway, yes, I think I might have something, but I'm not totally sure, and I'd like to be a bit more sure. If I can."
"Take some more time, but we are on a clock here." Oliver reminded her, a bit of a stern note in his voice. "I'm not going to kill someone just because you give me their name, if that's what you're worried about."
Felicity nodded slowly, "I - well, that was something I was a little worried about," she admitted. "You do have a habit of sticking arrows in people. Usually fatally."
"If I actually have to shoot them, yes," Oliver agreed. "Shooting to kill is the better strategy. But when I go after someone on the list, I give them a chance. Like Ken Williams," Oliver grabbed his bow. "His pyramid scheme stole millions. People lost their homes, their livelihoods..." A few suicides had resulted too. But killing Ken Williams wouldn't bring them back. Giving the families back their money was a better outcome, in the grand scheme of things.
"You two can call it in for the night, if you want." He added. He turned to Laurel, "What are you planning for the night?"
"I heard something about a thief that might have come to Starling." Laurel said. "That's the rumor in the Glades anyway, from what I've overheard. They call him the Dodger."
"A thief?" Oliver frowned. That seemed a little low-key for what Laurel preferred to focus on. Unless the man had stolen massive amounts anyway, or was doing more than mere theft.
"I've heard of this guy," Diggle chimed in, interest written across his face. "he keeps his hands clean by putting explosive collars on people's necks, makes them take whatever he wants, then runs off with it. Last year, a guy in Madrid didn't steal what he wanted - blew his head right off."
"And he goes after the help to do it - janitors, maid staff, security guards. The poorly paid, overworked, overstressed people of the city. Exactly the kinds of people the Black Canary protects." Laurel shook her head. "I did my research after I heard the name - the people who he forces to help him don't always convince the courts to let them off. I'm not going to let him get away with that in this city. If he's coming, I want to find him and stop him."
Oliver nodded. "Sounds like exactly the sort of man you should be dealing with." Laurel wouldn't need his help on this, and if she thought she did, she'd ask. Still, if the man was throwing around explosives... "Be careful."
"I should say the same to you. The 1% of the city have been beefing up their security ever since the Hood started in on them," Laurel pointed out, a teasing note in her voice.
"I hadn't really noticed," Oliver deadpanned, a small smile briefly passing across his face. He had noticed, of course, but they really hadn't been any more threat to him than before, in all honesty. Private Security specialists really couldn't be - they had their heads stuck in the ways things worked before vigilantes came to the city. If given enough time, they might catch up.
Hopefully, Oliver wouldn't need to give them that time.
"Let me know when you're more sure," Oliver said as he grabbed his hood, then turned and nodded to Felicity, before heading for the stairs. He saw Laurel suiting up out of the corner of his eye as he left.
Starling City Police Department
March 17th, 2013
Sara picked up the phone that the 'Black Canary' had sent her as it rang. She wondered why Laurel was calling her rather than coming into the station and asking her to lunch or something else, but she was probably just too busy at work or something.
"Hello," Sara said, not bothering to say Laurel's name.
"Sara," Laurel's voice wasn't distorted anymore - no point, after all. "I need some information."
"What do you need?" Sara asked, turning to her computer.
"I was looking into rumors that The Dodger was coming to Starling - and of course, he did, but I wasn't in a position to go after him when he robbed the Sherwood Ruby. I'm trying to get a lead on where he's going to go next." Sara was a little surprised that Laurel was bothering with the Dodger - but then again, he had used a minimum wage security guard as his patsy for the Sherwood, so maybe that explained Laurel's interest.
"Well, he doesn't have a specific buyer lined up, I can tell you that." Sara didn't even need to bring up the information available on the Dodger to know that. She'd already heard about his murder of the Fence that had tried to steal the Sherwood Ruby from him. Or at least that's what could be assumed from the circumstances and the statement from the one thug in the employ of Cass Derenick that McKenna had managed to catch at the scene - the last to wake up. They'd been maybe minutes behind their wakeup, but much later than the Dodger.
"How do you know?"
"He tried to fence it to Cass Derenick." She was speaking quietly, head bowed a little, looking like she was going over an evidence report. "Only Derenick tried to steal it off of him, rather than pay his asking price."
"What happened to Derenick?"
"The man used some sort of stun baton to take out Derenick's guards, then shot him through the head. I'd guess as an example." Sara filled her in. "Seems odd for a guy so determined to keep his hands clean, but there you have it."
"So he's going to be looking for a new fence." Laurel stated, rather than asked.
"Presumably. I can keep my ear to the ground - If I find out who he's going after, I can give you a lead." Sara explained. "I'll see if I can snoop on McKenna. You guys wouldn't be able to cook up a bug for me to put on her phone or something, would you?"
"...Maybe. I can talk to our I.T. Department." Laurel said with a hint of a chuckle underlying her words.
"Is that what you're calling her now?" Sara raised an eyebrow, unable to not smile a bit at the notion.
"Hey, she called Ollie Robin Hood Men in Leather last night, so two can play at that game." Laurel told her. Sara laughed.
"Really? I can't see your boyfriend singing," Sara rolled her eyes. "That would probably be like you cooking."
"Hold on Sara, I've got another call coming." Sara heard Laurel set the phone down for a moment, then she came back after a few seconds. "Yeah, that was the pot calling. You're black."
"I didn't say I wasn't," Sara agreed. "I'll keep you posted."
"Thank you Sara," Laurel said, heartfelt. "I'll see if I can't get you some sort of bug. Just be careful."
"You're the one who wants to go toe to toe with the guy tossing bombs around." Sara countered. "Talk to you later. Love you." Laurel said goodbye as well, and she hung up the phone.
She only had a few minutes to return to her work, or rather, to try to figure out which fence the Dodger might try to offload the Sherwood Ruby to based on the limited intel the department had on him. And devise a excuse to get close enough to McKenna
Pity she's not into women or I could just ask her to dinner. Though, even if she was, dating a coworker, no matter how attractive, was a terrible idea.
"Sara?" Sara turned at the sound of Thea's voice behind her. Thea looked... upset, to say the least. Not like she'd been crying or anything, but certainly unhappy with the situation.
"Thea? Are you okay?" She asked.
"I - I'm okay. A little... A little shaken up, I think. I - I know you're not robbery, but I - well, my purse was stolen." She explained, speaking quickly, but stumbling over her words a bit.
"Are you sure you're okay?' Sara asked, standing up to look Thea over.
"He didn't actually do anything to me." Thea explained. "He just snatched my purse while I was walking to the Big Belly Burger from my shift at the shelter and kept running. I tried to chase after him-"
"Thea! What the hell were you thinking!?" Sara admonished, trying to avoid sounding too much like her dad berating her when she'd been Thea's age.
"I had my taser still. You were right that keeping it in my purse was a bad idea." Thea admitted. "He went a dead end - or that's what I thought. Then he did some weird parkour thing and climbed the wall to jump over the fence." She actually laughed, "If he hadn't just stolen from me, I'd even say it was impressive."
"I can file the report," Sara nodded. "Did you get a good look at him? Could you sit with a sketch artist?"
Thea furrowed her brow. "I could try. He was wearing a red hoodie, but I got a look at his face right before he jumped the fence..." she trailed off, sounding a bit unsure, then she got a bit of a 'lightbulb' expression on her face. "Oh, right. He got this caught on the fence when he jumped over." She pulled a chain from her pocket with a small eight-ball on one end.
"I think it's from his wallet." Sara grabbed one of her gloves - it was still surprisingly chilly outside - and used that to grab the offered chain from Thea as she went on. "Some of my friends at Balloi Prep have ones kind of like this, anyway."
"Good thing it was cold enough for you to wear gloves. Assuming his prints are in the system, at all." Sara musted, pulling an evidence bag out of her desk and dropping the chain into it. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah... just... mostly I think I'm annoyed and like... he just ran off with it. He didn't even threaten or anything and like - I could have stopped him if I'd been a little faster, right?" Thea asked, rhetorically, shrugging helplessly.
"And if you'd tried fighting back without knowing for sure what you were doing, he might have done a lot worse than taken your purse," Sara countered, cautioning her.
"So I should just let it happen?" Thea snarked, rolling her eyes.
"No, I'm saying that if you want to fight back, you should make sure you know how." Sara explained. She took a breath, "I don't exactly have a lot of free time, but maybe we could pick a gym near the animal shelter you're doing your community service at and I could meet you there after your shift a day or two a week, give you some basics. If you're serious." She eyed Thea. Thea had had a habit of dropping things a lot in the five years after the Gambit went down... understandably, perhaps. And she hadn't made any effort to try and skimp or skip out on her community service.
Thea had been doing better since Ollie and Laurel came back from the dead. Not without incident - the vertigo proved that - but still.
Thea considered her words for a moment, then inhaled. "Let me get back to you." She said thoughtfully after a moment. "I - I really don't want to just get my purse snatched again, but..." she shook her head. "Let me think about it."
"Take your time. I'm going to be pretty busy the next few days anyway." She pulls what she needs to file a report - hasn't had to do that for theft in a while, especially not the theft of a purse, but she remembers how, and gets the information from Thea.
"It could take a while, since...well, it is just a purse," Sara explained, as they went to find a sketch artist who wasn't busy with another task. "But I'll see if I can't get the fingerprints done faster. Should be pretty straight forward from there, if he's in the system."
Granted, in court, the fact that Thea had had the chain in her pocket and thus there was no verified chain of custody on it and the offenders ownership of the thing was unconfirmed could lead to issues.
On the other hand, most purse snatchers didn't bother to go to trial. So it would probably not matter.
"Thanks," Thea nodded, before Sara introduced her to the sketch artist - who had a bit of free time, and owed Sara a favor - and they got the thief's face down.
Warehouse, The Glades
March 17th, 2013
Thanks to a tip off from Sara, Laurel knew that the SCPD thought that the Dodger was going to try to fence the Sherwood to Claire Abbott.
As far as criminals operating in or near the glades went, Abbott had been very low on her list of priorities - the woman was too wealthy for the glades, of course, but there were always advantages for criminals to work there. Though not as much recently, thanks to her own efforts.
Still, a fence who didn't leave bodies behind was a low priority. Sin had told her about Abbott when talking about various players in the Glades, but unless Laurel ended up dealing with every last bad guy worse than here, normally, she wouldn't be here, perched in the rafters of this warehouse, watching as Aboott met with the Dodger. She'd arrived through a hole in the roof just in time to catch the tail end of the transaction.
"...I take a fifteen percent commission off the top," Abbott told the Dodger, as she lowered the eyepiece she'd been using to check the Sherwood Ruby. She couldn't see his face from here, but from the way his stance shifted, she was pretty sure that he wasn't happy about that.
"Let's call it twelve, shall we?" She grabbed her sonic device, readying it, as he made reference to his killing of Cass Derenick to explain why Abbott should accept his terms.
She was about to drop the device, then drop down herself and take down the smug Brit, but before she could, she saw movement coming in from the sides. Police.
Damnit. She had thought she'd have beaten them there, but apparently not. She switched off the device - she couldn't use it when the cops were here. She watched Abbott, her guards, and the Dodger scatter, Abbott still with the ruby.
Well, that's one way to get the product for free. Laurel jumped quickly to another rafter, chasing after the Dodger, dropping down quickly as he slipped out the door, rolling as she dropped and chased after him, bullets flying behind them both in the main area of the warehouse as Abbott's guards kept shooting out with the police, McKenna included, Laurel was pretty sure.
They have that handled, I'll take care of this jackass.
She leapt forward and grabbed the Dodger by the back of his coat, pulling him back, trying to grab onto his arm so he couldn't escape by ditching the coat - unfortunately, he was fast on the uptake. He produced a small rod that crackled with electricity, and Laurel had to twist to avoid it, which loosened her grip just a touch, which let him slip free,
"Drop the baton" She barked at him, chasing after him, pulling her sonic device, readying it.
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline," He said, turning to look at her briefly, before darting around a corner into an alleyway. Laurel readied the device for a throw and activate, moving for the corner - when she heard a very slight beeping and saw something get thrown around the corner towards her.
She didn't have time to really register what it was in the moment - afterwards, she realized it had been one of his explosive collars - but she reacted on instinct - bad guys never throw something nice towards you. She dove to the side, rolling behind a dumpster, and felt a small blast rock the dumpster and set off a nearby parked car's alarm with the force of the explosion.
Laurel was on her feet, jumping over a few remnant bits of flame still lingering - the blast wasn't so powerful as to leave too much damage behind - but when she got around the corner, the Dodger wasn't in sight at all.
"Damnit," Laurel muttered. She could hear the warehouse door opening back behind her. The cops were chasing the sound of the explosion. Darting down the alley, Laurel leveraged herself onto the roof and moved away.
He doesn't have the ruby. Does that mean he leaves town, or stays for something else?
If he left, he left, but she'd rather that not happen. Out of sight was not out of mind.
The Foundry, Starling City
March 18, 2013
It was just past midnight by the time she got into the Foundry. Felicity was there working late, as were Diggle and Oliver. Felicity looked up, "I saw on the news the Dodger got away." She commented.
"Used one of his explosive collars as a grenade. Ducked to avoid the blast, and he was gone." Laurel grumbled. "If the cops had waited fifteen seconds, I could have taken him out and left him all wrapped in a bow for them." She took off her hood and started to remove her costume, setting the tonfas down as well. She was wearing shorts and a tank top underneath
"But he did lose the ruby, so with any luck, he'll still be in town, trying to find something new to steal," Laurel added.
"I don't know about that," Felicity chimed in. "I looked into this guy's record. Everything he's stolen, Europe and US, is all from the Ominous Decade." She pulled up the reports - news, police, interpol and otherwise. "And there's nothing in any sort of museum or private collection - that's known - from then, in the city."
She chuckled, "I guess the rich in Starling City prefer the Elizabethan era."
Laurel furrowed her brow, "Ominous decade. That sounds familiar."
"1823 to 1833 Spain. Last decade of Ferdinand VII's reign," Felicity rattled off.
"And she says we have no lives," Diggle snarked, but he looked over the screens.
"So he's probably not going to stick around in Starling City." Laurel inhaled sharply, jaw clenched a moment.
"Not unless there's bait for him." Oliver suggested. "The Starling City Cancer society is doing a charity auction tomorrow night." He pointed out. "Mom has been wanting me to go, represent the family, since she's busy running Queen Consolidated right now."
"He's going to spot a fake," Laurel pointed out, catching his drift. If word got out that something from the Ominous Decade was on offer... he'd try to get it.
"Well, that's easy to fix," Oliver noted, which Laurel had to grant was true.
"How is that easy to fix?" Felicity turned to look at them. "It's a rare spanish antiquity. Not a car you can just buy at the lot." Diggle chuckled at her words.
"You have no idea how rich his family is, do you?"
Starling City Police Department
March 19, 2013
Running the fingerprints and the facial sketch had turned up a name pretty quickly. And getting Roy Harper into the interrogation room - no, sorry, 'interview room' hadn't been that hard either. Normally, Sara wouldn't be handling the interrogation - such as it would be - but Robbery was busy with the Dodger eating up a lot of their manpower, so she decided she'd do them a favor - and do Thea a favor - and see this one to the end.
"So you think that's him?" Sara asked Thea, who was standing next to her as they looked through the one-way mirror.
"Looks like him, and you said they found his prints on the chain." Thea nodded. "He's got the same color hoodie, same style... yeah, I think it's him. In all his Abercrombie model glory."
Sara blinked, then looked him over again. She chuckled, "Yeah, I suppose he does have the right look for it." She picked up his file, "With a rap sheet like his... shouldn't be too hard to convince him that the judge and jury wouldn't look very kindly on him." She opened the door to the room and sat down across from him.
"So, Mr. Harper," Sara said, opening his file to his rap sheet. "Got a thing for purses do you?" She smiled. "We've got you down for quite a few counts of purse snatching. And a stolen car. Even a B&E. But mostly purses."
"They're easy to run with under your arm," Harper replied blithely. "Did you have me brought down here just to comment on my rap sheet?"
"No, no. I'm afraid I called you down here to add to it." Harper had been in and out of short stints in prison and juvie before it since he was... - she checked his file - fifteen. Not that she had any details from his juvie records, but she knew they existed. More in recent years, granted, and he'd been suspected in things he hadn't been convicted of. "You've been ID'd as a purse snatcher, again. Left this behind too," She showed him a picture of his wallet chain. "Your print, and the vic IDing you. Add that to your rap sheet, and you could be going back to prison. Longer this time. Or-"
"I don't want to steal," Harper started, probably about to start in with some sob story. Which was entirely possibly accurate, but also irrelevant.
"You do a lot of it for someone who doesn't want to." Sara pointed out.
"I don't know if you've been in the Glades recently, Detective," he stressed the title with just a hint of scorn. "But there aren't a lot of jobs available - especially not for people like me."
"Criminals, you mean?" Sara noted wryly. "Which would be your fault." His juvie records sealed, employers wouldn't even know they existed, or shouldn't, anyway, and while he was right, jobs were scarce in the Glades. Had been for years, but it had gotten worse, as more and more companies sold out and jumped ship, or just went bankrupt. People found it harder to pay their rent, which left them driven out.
She understood how that might lead to someone resorting to crime. But that didn't make it okay. Shouldn't damn someone forever for a few crimes, but Harper was choosing to keep doing it.
"It's not easy, okay?" Harper shot back defensively, then lowered her voice. "Not when your dad dies when you're twelve - he wasn't perfect, but he..." his voice broke a little, though Sara was pretty sure it was an act. "He was my dad."
"Sorry to hear that," Sara said dryly, though she was.
"You and the army of bookies that came around the day after he was buried in Norris Cemetery," he said. "Mom tried - she really did. But just her, in the Glades? It wasn't... then she started using, to handle it. So yeah, I started stealing, to help her cover bills, to help her get clean..." He shook his head, still speaking softly, still letting his voice breakup a bit.
"Last year, she got hooked on Vertigo... bad." He said, sounding like he was about to tear up.
I have to give him this, he's a good actor. Her gut said he was spinning a story, especially from the way he looked past her, towards the window. He tried to mask it as just wanting to avoid meeting her eyes, but if Sara missed her guess, he was trying to play for sympathy, get Thea to withdraw her complaint.
"Well, that shouldn't be a problem for her to have to deal with anymore, since it's not available anymore." Sara pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Are we going to cycle through excuses all day?" Please don't fall for it, Thea.
"No... she got clean. But... I guess she took too much - it - it messed her up. She hasn't been the same... she can't work much...and her medical bills..."
"You can't pay those bills from inside a prison cell," Sara pointed out, skeptically. "Should have thought of that."
"Look - we're not privileged enough to have as much as other people," Harper countered. "I don't - I don't have a choice."
"You do. You are choosing-" Sara started, but then she heard a slight tapping at the door.
Oh come on Thea... Sara bit her lip. Ultimately, it wasn't really the end of the world, for Thea, or the city, if she chose not to press charges, but she wasn't doing this guy any favors - or his mother, if she even was sick - any favors by doing it. Not really.
Unfortunately, as Sara found out after she stepped outside, Thea had fallen for it. "It's just a damn purse, right?"
"It is just a purse, but do you really think his story - which might not even be true - justifies stealing?" Sara pressed.
"No, it doesn't justify it!" Thea countered, "It just... I don't think he's lying and... it's just a purse." Her eyes were a bit wet. Dad dead when he was twelve, Vertigo... Sara internally smacked herself. He probably knew who she was after looking at something in her purse, picked the right buttons to push...
"So you want to drop the charges?" Sara debated the merits of pushing it, but decided against it. "Or, rather, not press any?"
"No... no, I don't want to," Thea confirmed. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, turning. "I just - need to go." She hurried away, sniffling once.
Thea... Sara let out a small sigh and opened the door to the interview room, standing so he could get out of the room past her.
"You're free to go." She pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down an address, which she dropped in his hand as she walked out with a bit of a smug expression on his face.
"What's this?" He looked at the paper, confused.
"Acting lessons. You might have fooled her, but if you plan on pulling your sob story again, you might want to get better." Sara closed the interview room behind him and left for her desk, nodding to one of the uniforms to escort him out of the station.
Ballroom, Starling City Museum
March 19, 2012
Getting the broach and getting it here hadn't exactly cheap - buying and then getting it here in time for the charity auction, but it hadn't been undoable, thankfully. It was the closest jewelry from this... 'Ominous Decade' they could find - a collector in San Francisco who was on the verge of bankruptcy after bad investments had been willing to sell it when offered quite a lot of money. The auction might end up making it sell for more than that, depending, but either way, that didn't matter. It was donated, which would help the Cancer Society - always good - and hopefully they'd catch the Dodger.
Felicity had planted a tracker, and they were all keeping eyes on it. The idea was, if someone got collared and went for it, they could track it to the handoff, and then take him out. They couldn't interfere with someone already collared. That would risk him just blowing up his victim and anyone else.
Though if they were fortunate enough to see him here, they could take him down first.
Accepting a glass of weak champagne from a waiter, Oliver held, but did not drink the glass, scanning the crowd, then checking the tracker on his phone.
"Anything?" Laurel asked quietly as she approached him, wearing an elegant red dress. He looked her over a moment, allowing himself a small smile. Beautiful, as always.
"No sign of him yet, or anyone looking like they've got a bomb on their neck," Oliver noted.
"And the tracker hasn't moved," Oliver noted. "Maybe he ditched town?"
"No... I don't think so. He seemed very determined to get his payday," Laurel disagreed. "I mean, selling the Ruby so soon after stealing, sure, it's hot property. But killing one fence and immediately going to another? When you know the cops will be after you?" She shook her head. "No, I think he's the sort of guy that has to win, has to have things his way. Leaving now when there's another option on the table..."
"But he could have figured this was a trap," Diggle suggested. "Cops figured out the same pattern you did," Diggle pointed and they saw McKenna in a sequined dress playing socialite. "I saw some others, all undercover. They don't want to spook him. Still, timing."
"Maybe..." Laurel admitted. "But I think he's pathological at this point, if he ever wasn't." She shook her head. "I'll get eyes on the broach again, check the other side of the room." She smiled and pulled him for a quick kiss, which Oliver returned. Once she walked off, Oliver turned to Diggle.
"I'll check around the exits. He might be lurking somewhere close." Oliver suggested.
"Sounds good." Diggle moved off and so did Oliver. He was approached by one of the charity auction's organizers, thanking him for the donation. He made conversation for a minute, to blend in, keeping his eyes on the crowd. Once that was out of the way, he headed towards one of the exits, away from the main crowd. He looked for someone that, like him, might be avoiding the crowd, pretending to sip at his champagne. He shifted position, trying to get a better view, then he felt a hand grab the back of his suit jacket and pull him through the exit, onto the empty stairwell landing, something hard pressed into his back. It didn't feel like a gun. He was about to twist and grab whoever it was when he heard a British accent in his ear.
"Keep very still, and do as I say, and you'll get out of this with your head intact." The Dodger. Oliver mentally relaxed. He must have picked his patsy. Poor luck for him. He kept up the act of a civilian, though.
"What do you want?" Trying to sound indignant and angry, but a touch afraid.
"Well, I want a certain broach that's been donated." He gave the name of the broach he'd set as bait. "And you're going to get it for me." Oliver was about to turn again, but once more, something stopped him. In this case, the sound of something beeping. A bomb collar, readied.
"And if I don't?" Oliver added a slight waver to his voice.
"Well, I'm afraid you'll find yourself rather short a head," he chuckled as he snapped the collar around Oliver's neck. "Do as I say, don't go to the police, and you'll be just fine."
"I have a better idea," Oliver growled, turning quickly and grabbing the man's arms around the wrist, quickly. He had a detonator in his hand, but Oliver held on too tight for him to pull away. "You take this off, or I shout for security."
"Do that and-" he started.
"And what, you'll blow us both up?" Oliver pointed out, making to sound both overconfident and scared. The perfect mix that would make it seem like he was all too ready to do something very, very stupid. The Dodger didn't really have anything to say to that. "Now, why don't we step into the main room and see what security has to say about all this?"
"I'd rather not go to prison, if it's all the same to you." The man countered. "So it comes down to which one of us is bluffing. I rather think it's you."
Oliver twisted the man's wrist, hard, forcing him to drop the detonator, and slamming him against the wall - he had the technique be sloppy, like he was relying on just strength and a small bit of training, rather than that he actually knew how to fight.
"I don't bluff." He gave the Dodger a quick punch to the gut, then another one to the chin, sending him reeling. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to keep him off balance. Again, sloppy technique.
"Quite the mistake you just made," The man staggered back, pulling out what Oliver could only assume was his stun baton. He lunged for Oliver, Oliver pulled back, and then the doors opened, Laurel coming through. Her eyes widened when she saw the man with the baton
"Oliver!" She held the doors open, gesturing to Diggle, who was in, gun in hand in a matter of moments. Without the detonator, and outnumbered - and with no convenient way to out Diggle before he could shoot...
"Get that detonator," Diggle told Laurel, gesturing to where it had fallen with a jerk of his head. "You alright Oliver?"
"Is he alright? Of course he's bloody alright. First Mr. Derenick, then the police, and now this. Starling City truly is a cursed bugger of a city." He said 'cursed' with a stress on the 'ed'.
"Drop the baton," Diggle said. "Get security in here. Call the cops." He told Laurel. The Dodger hesitated for a moment, as if about to try something, then he frowned, and dropped the baton. Diggle moved closer, but didn't get close enough for the man to reach him. "Hands on your head."
It was less than two minutes for museum security and then Detective McKenna to come in. By that time, Diggle had used the detonator to deactivate and take off the collar on Oliver's neck. Which was a relief. She cuffed the Dodger, reading him his rights. As uniformed cops arrived - they must have been somewhere nearby - arrived to take him away, McKenna turned to them.
"Well, are we going to be making a habit of this, Oliver?" She smiled, greeting Laurel with a handshake. "Nice to see you again Laurel."
"Likewise," she nodded.
"In my defense, I was just here to represent my family when this guy decided to put a bomb on my neck," Oliver said, letting out a breath. "I know I need to give a formal statement, but is there any chance I could give it tomorrow?" His heart was pounding still a bit - the adrenaline was leaving him after that brief fight, but it was still there.
McKenna nodded after a moment's thought. "Alright. You can come in tomorrow." She turned to Diggle and Laurel. "What about you two?"
"I'll give my statement now," Diggle nodded, while Laurel said she'd come into the station tomorrow with Oliver.
"Just don't make me track you two down, okay?" She stepped off to the side to take Diggle's witness statement.
"Well, that went smoother than expected," Laurel murmured in Russian. "I thought we'd have to run him down."
"I'm not sure anything that involves a bomb being put around my neck qualifies as 'smooth', but he's off the street, so that's good enough," Oliver replied in the same language. "Your timing was good."
"I was going to come and suggest a change of strategy, since we weren't seeing him take a bite, but... well, I guess he did." She looked in the direction he'd been taken off in cuffs. "You know, for someone named Dodger, he wasn't very good at dodging your punches." Oliver bit his lip, smiling a little, but also trying to avoid groaning a bit. Laurel picked up on that, of course, and gave him a gentle slap on the chest.
"You're supposed to laugh at my bad jokes, dear," she said, mockingly talking like an old married woman in a sitcom scolding her husband.
"Just don't make me pretend to like your cooking," Oliver smiled, and took Laurel's hand, squeezing it.
He hadn't really been in that much danger, he knew, but still. It was always good to stay alive in the end.
She is right though. He really should have been able to dodge this.