Chapter 39: The Undertaking

Frank Chen dropped his briefcase down onto his home office's desk chair. He put his hands on his hips and stretched backwards, feeling slight relief throb through him as his bones snapped back into the place. A daily ritual after a long day at the office, and the days had only gotten even longer as the Undertaking approached. Already, he had made several calls, trying to plant the seeds and get all the pieces into place for his part in the reconstruction efforts after the deed was done. So absorbed was he in those thoughts, that he never noticed he was not alone.

A small dart pierced his arm. Frank stumbled slightly, noticing the projectile just before he started to sway. His vision started to darken. As he fell to the floor, he briefly caught sight of forest green boots before unconsciousness took him.

Frank awoke to find himself bound to a chair in what looked to be a conference room. He struggled a bit, only to cease his efforts when Robert and Moira entered his vision, both visibly scowling. What were they doing here?

"Robert, Moira…what's going on?" He asked, fear creeping up in him.

Robert's hard expression refused to falter. "You'll understand in a moment, Frank. Just answer me one question: was it you who told Malcolm?"

Frank froze at that, and Robert looked away, knowing the truth.

"It was you." The Queen patriarch confirmed. "…Did you know about the bomb?"

The Chinese man closed his eyes in shame. "…I'm the one who planted it." he stated quietly.

The Queens felt anger flare in them. Moira, finally having had enough, marched over to their now former friend and gave him a hard slap to the cheek. Frank's head flew to the side, his face slightly pink from the force.

"My son lost ten years of his life because of you." Moira whispered furiously. "He never got to graduate from high school because of you. He never got to go to college with his friends because of you. He never got to see his sister grow up – all because…of…you." She felt her nails dig into the palms of her hands, but she didn't care; the pain couldn't compare to what her son had went through because of this man. "I will never forgive you for any of this, Frank. Ever." With that, she walked back to her husband, having said all she needed to say.

"I hope you're proud of yourself." Robert threw his two cents in after his wife was done. "And know that what you're about to get, is more than you deserve."

Frank finally looked up, his shame replaced with confusion. Robert and Moira moved themselves to the side of the room and allowed another to enter – a woman.

"Hello, Mr. Chen." Amanda Waller sat down, allowing her legs to cross. "I have a proposition for you. And before you ask – no, you're not allowed to refuse."

"I have been complicit in an Undertaking of the worst sort," Frank continued, ignoring the flashing lights in his face, "with only one, terrible purpose: to destroy the Glades and kill everyone in it."

Gasps of horror could be heard from those present. Quentin and Lucas exchanged disbelieving looks, faces pale.

"And you all need to know, that the architect of this atrocity…is Malcolm Merlyn."

Back in the Queen Mansion, Robert and Moira watched the conference in the living room television, a myriad of feelings pulsing in them. Amanda had already assured them that any evidence of their participation in the Undertaking had been altered or removed, and the rest of Tempest was getting visits from one of her 'enforcers' to keep their mouths shut about the Queens. When Malcolm was apprehended, any claims he'd make against them would fall on deaf ears – if push came to shove, they'd reveal how he'd sabotaged the Gambit, and that would turn public opinion in their favor.

As Frank revealed the many people Malcolm had murdered in pursuit of his insane mission, among them including Walter Steele and Josiah Hudson, they felt a massive weight falling off their shoulders. It was satisfying to know that their friends' deaths would not go unavenged.

"Mom? Dad?" Thea burst into the room, a confused and hurt look on her face. She looked at the TV and pursed her lips. Her parents, feeling her distress, took her into their arms. Internally, however, they felt lighter than they had in a decade. The nightmare was almost over.

All across Starling City, people were watching the conference with wide, disbelieving eyes. To think that someone had plotted such a thing beneath their notices for so long – it was a horrifying thought. And for that someone to be Malcolm Merlyn, a man near idolized by every aspiring entrepreneur in the city, a man who, just a scant few months ago, had been named Starling's 'Humanitarian of the Year'…

Samantha Arias crossed her arms, trembling. The press conference on her TV screen had just ended, Frank Chen being led out of his in handcuffs by the police. Malcolm Merlyn… to think she had looked up to that man. That she had allowed him to appear at Ruby's birthday party. And Kara – did Kara…no. God, Kara had just gotten back from ten years on that island, her and Oliver, to find out that someone they had thought of so highly was such a monster…

Sam picked up her phone, immediately speed dialing Balliol – she needed her daughter in her arms now.

"Dad!" Tommy screamed, rushing past several soon-to-be former employees. "DAD!"

Was it true? Was it true?

Tommy wanted to believe otherwise, but deep down he knew it was very much reality. His father had never been the same after his mother's death, a walking shell that was there but not very much there. And then, he left, and came back colder than the Artic Sea. Tommy knew his father had changed, perhaps forever.

But this much?

He slammed the door open, marching into the room hurriedly. His father was looking out the window, observing the city below.

"Is it true?" Tommy demanded. When Malcolm failed to answer, Tommy choked back something resembling a sob. Suddenly, as if having an epiphany, he stepped forward. "This is about mom. You blame them, don't you?"

Malcolm turned around slowly. Tommy watched him as went to his desk and slid open a drawer, taking out an old flip phone. Silently, he flipped it open and clicked a few buttons, then set it down on his desk.

His son was about to ask him what he was doing, until it started.

"Malcolm, I'm in trouble." His mother's familiar voice reverberated throughout the room, the chaos throughout the building and the city below, now mere background noise. "I told-I told him to take everything. My money…my ring."

Tommy felt his heart clench. "Turn it off." He pleaded his father, but Malcolm refused to budge.

"They shot me. I screamed for help, but no one would come."

"No one came. She bled out on the pavement while people passed by, did nothing." Malcolm spoke shakily – angrily. "Your mother built her clinic in the Glades because she wanted to save this city. It can't be saved." He declared, righteously. "Because the people there don't want it to be saved."

"So you'll kill them all–"

"THEY DESERVE TO DIE, ALL OF THEM!" The father shouted to the son, furious, determined, certain. "THE WAY SHE DID!"

Tommy shook his head. "This isn't what she would've wanted. If it had been you–"

"Your mother's dead. The dead can't 'want' anything." Malcolm responded, panting. "There's no point in hypotheticals, Tommy. Not here, not now."

"Dad…" Tommy closed his eyes, pained.

Malcolm's face softened. He moved from behind his desk, clasping his hand on his son's shoulder in comfort. "I knew you wouldn't approve. It's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want to put that burden on your shoulders."

"But you're not going to stop, are you?" Tommy noted. "Not even for me."

"No." Malcolm shook his head sadly. The moment continued, until–

"MALCOLM MERLYN!" A S.W.A.T. team member cried out. He and his team invaded the room, surrounding the newly-revealed terrorist. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"

Tommy immediately complied, not wanting to provoke a potential shootout. Malcolm followed his lead, slowly walking towards the man who had shouted – and then made a sharp turn, knocking the gun down and grabbing him in a chokehold, quickly snapping his neck. Bedlam erupted, Malcolm immediately jumping towards the side where his hidden vault was, ducking under the flying bullets. Tommy followed the suit, hiding beneath his father's desk.

Careful not to get shot, Malcolm punched in the vault's code as fast as he could, allowing revealing the room hidden within his walls. He crawled in, quickly grabbing his scimitar and a shield, allowing it to hang off his arm. Fully armed, he charged back in the fray, blocking gunshot after gunshot as he cut down his assailants. Tommy peaked from under his hiding spot, watching in horror as his father killed. Once the last officer was down, the younger man slowly stood up.

"…Dad?"

Malcolm turned suddenly, sword high. Noticing it was Tommy, he relaxed himself, letting his weapon fall to his side. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. Truth be told you, I never wanted to tell you about this." He gestured to himself, the blood on his suit. Tommy was at a loss for words.

Until he fell back, having been shot in the abdomen.

Malcolm turned around instantly, and immediately cut the shooter down, a man who had been a part of his company's security until today. Dropping his protection, he rushed to his son's side. Tommy was bleeding profusely, and while he was trying his best to stem the blood with his hands, the fading look in his eyes made it clear he didn't have much time left.

"Dad…"

"You're going to be okay Tommy, you're going to be okay." Malcolm ripped off his jacket, placing it on the wound. It was quickly becoming soggy and red, however, and he knew something had to be done before his son joined his wife. And then, his thoughts turned to one, surefire way to prevent that.

Should I use it? The side effects, though – but he's not dead yet! It should be fine. Replaying the last line in his head continuously, he got up and quickly ran into the vault. Going to a safe located towards the back of the room, he punched another number, the door clicking open. Gingerly, he took out the safe's contents.

In his hand was a vial, with a bubbling, glowing green liquid.

Pandemonium had blanketed over the Glades. Everywhere one could see, there was fire and death, people running, screaming, telling others to flee. Cars swerved on the road, others taking the opportunity to loot the abandoned homes, heedless of their safety, confident they could escape before Armageddon came.

Inside CNRI, lawyers were scurrying about, trying to save as many documents as they could before the building was destroyed. Cars had been prepared in time, ready to take the papers to a safe location.

Laurel Lance was one of those lawyers, shoving file after file into a box. There was no time for organization – who knew when the earthquake would hit? Beside her was Joanna de la Vega and Anastasia, a new hire who probably now regretting her change in workplace, operating diligently. They took every filled box and hurried them to the cars.

A phone rang. It was the fifth time tonight. Knowing who it was, Laurel slid her finger across the screen, accepting the call, and balanced it on her shoulder, against her ear. "Dad."

"Laurel, please tell me you're not there."

"I'm not."

Over the line, Quentin sighed. "Sweetie, I know you're lying. Look, things are crazy over here too – we're trying to organize an evacuation effort but people, obviously, aren't cooperating. Pike's given me the okay to go, so I will drive over there and get you right now. Be ready." With that, the call ended.

Laurel quickly set the phone down, sparing a single thought to her father before she continued her work.

Outside CNRI, people were still panicking. Somehow, someone had managed to hijack a bus, crashing it into another car. Apparently, the mass hysteria was driving people insane, convinced that there was no hope of escape.

A young man collapsed onto the street, having twisted his leg. He tried to get up, only to freeze – one of the wooden poles that connected the powerlines had been severely damaged, its structural integrity compromised. He watched in stunned horror as it began to sway, before it started falling down…towards him.

He closed his eyes, accepting his apparent to death, before he felt himself being picked up and a rush of wind. As he was set down, he opened his eyes to look at his savior.

The Streak.

Gaping, he stared as the vigilante gave him a short nod before speeding away.

Roy Harper watched him go, before closing his mouth and collapsing to his back in relief.

Elsewhere, people watched in amazement as a woman in an orange and brown spandex suit lifted up a bus, allowing the trapped people within to escape. If they watched closely, they could see a faint, glowing blue outline of a gorilla surrounding her.

Slowly, realization dawn on the people of the Glades, hope blossoming within them. Against all odds, help had arrived.

Things are crazy. Next, the climax chapter, followed by the denouement, which ends Arc II.