33

"The Golden Booty." Diggle snorted, shaking his head as he too in the seedy strip club. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a swig of vodka, exhaling sharply after swallowing. His face remained calm for a moment, then twisted up into a strained expression as he shook his head. "There ain't nothing golden about this."

"I agree immensely," Oliver said. His eyebrows pinched together, the side of his mouth turning up in amusement when Diggle tried to do another shot of the cheap drink but found himself unable to do so. When the amusement of the moment passed, Oliver sucked in a sharp breath; arms folded tightly across his chest. He spoke to Barry, before turning his head. "Barry, why are we still here?"

Barry simply lifted his head and looked back at Oliver. His blue-green eyes shifted back and forth, wafting over Oliver's face and not finding any one place to stop. Almost as if, if he wasn't the one who was running around at top speed, something on his body had to be moving. As it was, it was kind of creepy how quickly his eyes were roving over Oliver's face.

"'Yeah," Diggle added, pushing his glass away from him with finality. "Weren't you the one who said places like this aren't really your speed?"

"Mhm." Wally, who sat on Oliver's other side, barely paying attention to him, nodded. He was. His eyes flickered over to the table then focused back on the dancers that writhed and gyrated in front of their table, a barely concealed grin on his face. "He was."

Oliver nodded in agreement. He knew Barry had been the one to say it. He was the one who had planted his Conversed feet firmly on the ground of the carpet leading into the strip club the second he got a good look at the neon lighting and the throbbing music. He'd stared, as if never having seen anything like it before—though Oliver wouldn't have been surprised at all if that were the case—and declared his unease. Ralph, of course, had quickly disputed it, or ignored Barry's unease, and explained how he as royalty of the place and wanted to be sure Barry had a good bachelor party.

At that moment, Oliver would've done anything to be back watching stupid home movies. Anything so that he didn't have to watch Ralph make so much of a fool to himself. And, it wasn't like Oliver didn't like strip clubs, he just hated how much unease this one was giving him.

The chain strip club was teaming with older, graying men smoking cigarettes and cigars, leering at the young girls who danced and stripped on stage. That wasn't so weird, even his own father had taken him to strip clubs for celebrations, even when he was below the twenty-one age limit. But there was something about this one, the clientele that continued to look around at each other, as if sizing each other up, that was giving him pause.

Something familiar about the ways they were looking at each other and lifting their chins as if to ask if there was going to be any trouble. With the other men who lifted their chins in response and give a small smile. Reassurance. Everything was okay.

Oliver hadn't been working as a vigilante for years to know that there was something weird going on.

But he seemed to be the only one acutely aware of it.

"So, again, I ask," Oliver said slowly. He took another glance around the crowd before looking to Barry. His eyes brows twitched, noticing how glassy Barry's eyes were, as if he were on the verge of tears. Knowing it was something else. "Why are we still here?"

Barry merely smiled at him in response. A slow, almost syrupy smile that made the muscles in his face sort of stretch and warp in weird ways before they finally sat in place. Oliver sighed, looking away from the speedster once more.

"I think that thing that Cisco made him…" Diggle trailed off, chuckling to himself when he noticed Barry slowly start to sway back and forth—off-beat—to the song that played. "Is the reason why we're still here."

"Yeah…"

Something twinged inside Oliver. Guilt. It was a big night for Barry a last hurrah before he went into the next phase of his life. A part that he'd dreamt about but didn't think would be possible—especially since, back then, he was sure the bride would be Iris. Oliver had heard enough about it, and had gotten a good idea about it when Barry had been explaining his first foray into being a hero on the rooftop that one night, years before.

Part of him knew there was nothing inherently harmful of letting Barry get the chance to be drunk. If it was his own bachelor party, he could expect to have been completely out of it by then. At least, until Felicity found out and made sure his life was over…all the while saying there were a lot of strong feminist ideals of women being strippers, but also badly hiding her jealousy of him going to see other women. Nevertheless, the twinge of guilt was short lived. He couldn't help but continue to focus on the silent threat he was sure was coming their way. That was a part of his life he was unable to turn off.

The red warning going off, something was wrong somewhere.

"He does deserve a night off," Diggle said, as if sensing Oliver's unease. "And Cisco did say that he'd be the designated superhero." Then Oliver knew for sure he was picking up the same vibes. Good ol' Diggle, who was always by Oliver's side and supporting him. Especially so, when Diggle exchanged a look with Oliver, chuckling ot himself when Ralph stood and clapped loudly when one of the girls had finished her dance, throwing a knowing wink their way as they did so. (As had most of the girls that night, once knowing it was Barry's bachelor party."

Oliver shook his head.

"Joe was right when he said he was getting too old to go out like this," Diggle remarked. He remembered the light, rumbling chuckle Mr. West had emitted when Ralph had extended the night of drinking and debauchery out to him. He'd looked at Oliver, then Diggle, then Barry, then back while he shook his head, thanking them for the offer. But that he'd do his own thing with Barry later. (All the while seeming to ignore Barry's wide-eyed, mental telepathy of crying for help from Ralph's plan as he did so). "Are you starting to get the feeling that we're doing more babysitting than actually enjoying things?"

Oliver hummed once more, turning his gaze to watch Ralph and Cisco—where Cisco was glaring at Ralph, who dragged his stretched hand back to his side, a few wadded up bills in his hand—Wally, who was transfixed by the girls in front of him, and Barry who was so far gone he seemed to consistently be melting into the upholstery of the booth they sat in.

Cisco scowled at Ralph. "Would you stop that!" He snapped.

Ralph looked at him in mock-indignation. "What? I'm not doing anything to him. He has more ones than he could ever need, I don't think he'll notice a few of them are missing." He placed his now normal hand on the table and fanned himself with his bounty. "It's a strip club, it's not like he hasn't woken up the next day and have money missing before."

With a roll of his eyes and as hake of his head, Cisco said, "It's not about your sticky fingers, Ralph, it's about your stretchy arm outwardly displayed." He lowered his voice to a low hiss as he did so.

Ralph hummed to himself, continuing to fan himself with the bills. He seemed to be mulling over Cisco's words. His eyes roved around the table before shifting across the room, a smirk pulling at his elastic face. He chuckled and stopped his fanning mid-swing, then pointed with an extended hand.

"So, I should be more like Captain Discreet, over there?"

Oliver followed Ralph's gaze and laughed quietly, seeing Barry leaning against the bar. He looked to the spot beside him that was suddenly empty then back to Barry once more. It always amazed him how quickly Barry could move when he wanted to. It was even more impressive he was able to do so when he was three sheets to the wind. He was shouting something, raising his arms above his head with each cry, making the crowd that gathered around him to cheer and salute their beer glasses into the air.

The amused smile left his face, quick as lightning, replaced by an expression of abject horror when he heard what Barry was shouting.

"I'm the Flash!"

Cisco winced, hearing the slurred cry beneath the drop in music. Oliver whipped his head around to glare at Cisco, who shrank beneath the older man's gaze. "I may have…" he held his thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. "Slightly…miscalculated his bachelor elixir."

Heaving a sigh, Oliver surged to his feet and strode across the room. The crowd parted, seeing him coming. It took a bit for the group to understand they were to move out of the way, so much so that a man in sunglasses glanced at Oliver, then did a double take, before moving. Finally, when Oliver reached Barry, he was able to sling his arm around him to hold him up. Only before Barry greeted him breathily, shooting the hot tinged wave into his face. Oliver grimaced, bringing his head back out of the path of the smell. "Hey, how you feeling?"

Barry nodded once. "I'm feeling go-o-o-o-od." Somehow, he managed to stretch the one-syllable word into a word with about five syllables. All of which flew up Oliver's nostrils.

Wincing, Oliver turned Barry around and started to steer him back to the table. He patted Barry on the stomach, having second thoughts when it felt as if his stomach muscles suddenly clenched. Did being a speedster mean you were able to throw up at the speed of light, too? "You may need to walk this off."

"Or run it off," Barry whispered. Or thought he whispered, as he practically shouted in Diggle's face when Oliver sat him back down at their table. "Because I'm the Fla-a-a-ash!" Barry settled back in his seat before his body suddenly jerked, his mouth making a whooshing sound as he did so. He slowly smiled at the rest of the table. "I just went and got peanuts from the bar."

"You didn't even move!" Cisco declared, his eyes widening in disbelief. He leaned backwards when Barry leaned forward, putting them face to face.

"Or did I?" Barry asked. Then he leaned over, placing his head on Cisco's shoulder, making Cisco laugh quietly and bring up his hand, patting Barry on the cheek.

"Hey, guys," Ralph declared, looking at the group. He clapped his hands together. "Less talking, more dancing!" He gestured toward Wally, who barely looked at the group since they came back to the table. "Young Wallace has the right idea here."

"And I'm sure Jesse will have a great time hearing about this later," Cisco remarked. Wally seemed to come back to life, hearing his girlfriend's name. He coughed inconspicuously and leaned back in his seat as if he hadn't seen anything more boring. Trying, and failing as his gaze would quickly bounce around the room, practically craning his neck and falling out of his seat when a girl in a gold bikini strutted by. Then, finally, Wally's gaze landed on Barry. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day Barry Allen would be anything less then composed."

Oliver snorted. "Have you ever met Barry?" He started to smile. "Did I tell you about the day we met? He was shaking in his boots."

"I think anyone who comes across you would feel the same way, Oliver," Diggle replied.

"And how does that explain you?"

"I was paid to be your driver, not to actually care about you one way or another."

Oliver smirked back. Then he tuned in to notice that Barry was mumbling to himself, looking wide-eyed around the strip club, not seeming to take in the girls around him. Or maybe he was, and it just wasn't registering. As it was, Barry's mind certainly only seemed to be on one thing. "…I don't think Ryder is doing what he says he is. I mean, why was it that he was around a lot and suddenly we don't see him very much. I think he's hiding something. I mean, Cade keeps saying Ryder could be a stripper…" Barry's eyebrows rose. "What if he actually is a stripper…" His eyes widened as if something clicked into place in his mind. "Oh."

Barry's lower jaw started to tremble.

Oliver sighed heavily, bringing his hand up and slapping himself over the face, shaking his head. He removed his hand from his face, at the same time, locking his gaze with a man who sat a few tables away. He wasn't conspicuous in anyway, nothing about him would have been so striking if it weren't for him wearing sunglasses indoors. He could've been looking anywhere, but Oliver was sure he was looking at their table.

Aa cold wave washed over him.

"Hey, Sad Flash," Cisco said slowly, carefully. "Why the face?"

"Nothing." Barry's lower jaw continued to tremble. He reached up to wipe away a tear that threatened to fall." I just, I just love chicken wings so much." He took a bite of the last of the wings that were piled on his plate. Once finished, he sniffed heavily, then lifted his gaze to look around the table. "Why didn't Rose make room for Jack on the door? There was plenty of room for the both of them."

"Uh, Cisco," Wally said slowly. "When does this gift stop giving?"

"I don't know." Almost pouting, Cisco folded his arms over his chest. "I thought we'd be watching home movies right now!"

"Again." Ralph smiled. "You're welcome." He stood, stretching his arms above his head. "Who's ready for another round of wings? Ralphie's paying this time!" He looked around, made sure no one was watching, then stretched across the table, grabbing a basket of wings that sat on the counter to be picked up, dragging it to the table.

Then he reached out to the side to grab money from the same table he'd stolen from previously. Wally sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. "What's he doing now?"

Ralph started to bring his hand back, stopping halfway when the man whipped his head around and glared at the dwindling pile of money on his table.

"Hey!" The man shouted. His head whipped the other way in time to see Ralph clutching the money tightly. "Did you just rip me off?"

Ralph held his hands up defensively, still clutching the money. "I don't know what you're talking about, man."

"You're still holding onto the money, stupid!" Cisco hissed toward him.

"Hey, 'stupid' were if I to admit to any fault here," Ralph hissed back.

"I said!" The man stood in front of their table and leaned over, grabbing Ralph by the lapels of his patterned shirt and dragged him over the table, knocking drinks and plates this way and that. "Are you trying to rip me off? I know you, Dib," he said before Ralph could come up with a response. "I know what you're about! And believe me, I'm going to enjoy this."

He dragged Ralph across the table and onto the floor, starting to beat him up. Using his powers, Ralph stretched his arms to keep the man away from him. But that came with a set of problems of their own as, Oliver noticed a hush fall through the club almost immediately. "He's a freak!" Someone nearby shouted. "One of those meta-freaks!"

"I bet they all are!" Another one called.

"Starting an all out brawl, apparently," Diggle remarked, voice turning low.

All the muscles in Oliver's body tensed. He lifted his gaze once more and, once again, met the gaze of the sunglass-wearing man across the table. The man's mouth slowly stretched into a menacing smile. A smile that didn't make Oliver feel put at ease. The sinking feeling came worse.

It didn't take long until there was a crush of people surging onto the table, grabbing toward the bachelor party. Oliver immediately reacted as he would if he were masquerading as the Arrow. Anyone who grabbed his arm, had theirs broken when he twisted around and threw them to the ground. Tables were flipped over; drinks were knocked aside as they were attacked.

"Get the meta-freaks!"

Oliver turned and kicked a man squarely in the chest. Hard enough he was sure he heard the man's ribs cracking when his foot connected. The man bounced backwards, as if running into a solid wall, and collapsed onto the table behind him. He spilled to the ground, not moving. Oliver prayed the man was just drunk. He didn't have much time to think about it before another drunkard was on him, he knelt low and flipped the man onto the booth seats behind him.

Finally, Oliver found his opening and backed away into a clear space. The entire bar was converged onto him and his friends, and they were fighting back well. Gritting his teeth, a million thoughts ran through Oliver's head. A majority being of what would happen if the news got out, that there were metas in Star City. The prejudice against them wasn't as bad as Central City, but it was starting to grow as the days passed. Especially if Lex Luthor had anything to say about it.

Sucking in a deep breath, Oliver let his voice be heard in a deafening booming tone, "Everyone stop!"

"I'm the Flash!" Barry shouted immediately afterward, throwing his arms in the air.

Oliver whipped around and glared at Barry, who beamed back at him. He never wanted to punch Barry more in his entire life.

"Well, that's the best entertainment I've had all night," a low, craggly voice afflicted from years of smoking reached Oliver's ears. "But you're going to make my job much easier than I thought."

Oliver turned and saw the man in the sunglasses standing nearby, a rifle trained on Barry's chest, who looked back at the man in confusion. Wounded. Almost looking as if he'd lost his best friend. Oliver's chest caught in his throat. He knew he'd seen that man somewhere before. And, if he were looking for Barry, nothing was good.

"Tommy Monaghan," Oliver remarked.

Tommy Monaghan looked back at Oliver, as much as he could be looked at behind his sunglasses. "That's Hitman, to you."

A/N: Well, a chapter from Oliver's POV. I haven't done that since Flash Fire¸ but believe me when I say part of the reason it took me so long to get this chapter up was because I was trying to do it from a drunk Barry's POV and that wasn't working. Lol.

So, I'll explain why things with this story are taking so long. Not just because of my work schedule as it gets hectic over the holidays, but also because of what I have planned for the future of the story.

A lot of what I have planned for this fic, as well as multiple plots I've started but haven't quite gotten back to at this point, is because of how much of the wedding/Crisis On Earth-X Crossover I've written and planned to write for over two years at this point. It's long enough so that it's already over 100K words and that's before I go back to edit it, take things out, change things, and even add some more things. To the point that I'm more than likely going to make it its own story by the time it gets to that point (I'm still debating on it). But because of that, it's made a lot of things drag on/slow down in this one and I greatly apologize for it.

But I hope that, with this chapter, and my more consistent updates, I'll be able to bring in the pacing of the story to a higher/faster level and that you'll be able to enjoy the story at a weekly installment pace as I used to do/as the show does.

Thank you all so much for sticking around, even the silent readers! I've gone back and re-read this story from Flash Fire all the way to here and it's gotten me highly motivated again. So, sorry for coming back to a shorter chapter, but at least we're getting back into the swing of things, right?

Cheers,

-Riles