Hello my precious readers.
As it is Christmas Eve (at least it is here in Australia), I decided that you all deserved a present for managing to keep reading my writing despite my irregular and erratic updates.
Unfortunately, my earlier prediction of having more time was inexplicably wrong. Despite the fact I am (for all intents and purposes) on holiday. It seems that I have a continuous and never-ending list of things to do. And it seems that there is no end in sight. Hopefully when the New Year starts I will be able to find a more suitable routine which will include far more time dedicated to writing.
However, despite the hectic nature of the past few months, I am ecstatic because I have been accepted into the course I was aiming for (despite being eight point one points lower than the entry score of last year - bonus points truly are lifesavers). So now that I've managed to get into Uni, I should have a far more rigid routine in which to dedicate time to writing and therefore it will be easier than just trying to randomly grab a few moments every now and then.
Anyway, with hope for the future, I decided to power through and have managed to write and edit a chapter for my current two fanfics for all of you to enjoy.
Stay safe, and have a very Merry Christmas.
Oliver woke with the sun.
Knowing that none of his limited family (or any of the staff) would be awake at such an early hour, he resolved to take a run through the surrounding acreage of the mansion.
As he ran, he diverted from the well-worn tended-to paths as quickly as possible and headed into the rougher untamed forest that tinged the edges and back of the extensive property.
While this 'forest' itself was moderately tame compared to the jungles of Lian Yu, Oliver found himself using some of the most intense skills that he had developed in the past few years as he swarmed up the trees, jumped over ditches, and dodged through the undergrowth.
Only two hours later he reached the mansion again, climbing the large oak tree and then scaling the wall, entering through an unlocked window.
Quietly and quickly navigating the corridors to get back to his room unseen.
The night before he had begun the primary research that he needed to transform the old factory into something suitable to his needs.
The demolition work would be easy with the strength provided by the Mirakuru, and the money that he now had access too was more than enough to gather the technology and equipment that he needed to transform the basement into a base.
Sitting down on the brown leather swivel office chair that his father had given him on his eighteenth birthday in hopes that he would follow in his footsteps as a businessman.
Oliver turned on the old desktop with some trepidation, unsure if he would have to hack into the accounts, especially if his parents had deleted his user account after his 'death'.
With a sigh of relief, the screen showed his old account, untouched by anyone for five years. Oliver typed the password in.
L.a.u.r.e.l.
"Really?" Slade remarked exasperated behind him.
"I was a very different person back then." Oliver spoke reminisced, almost embarrassed at his previous pining for the headstrong yet naïve lawyer.
Oliver quickly ordered the equipment easily, all the resources he needed to supplement that which he had already managed to extort from the Bratva and ARGUS.
"You are different. Not like you to be so quiet." Rasia's voice did not startle Oliver, but her words did.
Clearly she could see right through the playboy mask that he had enforced in the presence of others.
Oliver smiled wanly, and tapped one key to clear the screen of all of his plans.
"I missed you Rasia." Oliver spoke with more honesty than he had in all of his recent conversations with his parents and Tommy.
"No kitchen on the island." Rasia smiled kindly at the man that she had all but raised.
"No. No friends either." Oliver saw Slade pull a face in disagreement, and suppressed laughter with some difficulty.
"Hey." Oliver moved from behind the desk and stood, towering over the small Russian maid, whom held out a silver tray of simple plain food that she had brought up for the young man, well aware that his eating habits had changed on the island. "Thank you."
Rasia nodded softly in return as Oliver placed the tray on a nearby low-lying table.
"Do I really seem different?" Oliver asked, hoping that he would gain a truthful answer from the honest compassionate housekeeper.
"No." She said simply, "You're still a good boy."
Oliver tried hard not to scoff as Slade smirked in the background, "Well the boy part isn't wrong, but the good is questionable."
"Oh. I think we both know I wasn't" Oliver ignored Slade's jibe with practiced ease.
"But a good Heart."
Oliver blinked, touched by her blind faith, "I hope so. I want to be the person you always told me I could be." If the Mirakuru and my past lets me.
As Rasia walked from the room, Oliver checked the computer screen, making sure that he has everything he needed.
"No friends on the island?" Slade was not happy.
"No." Oliver stated, "Shado was a lover, Yao Fei was a mentor, Anatoly was a convenient ally, Tianna was a responsibility, and everyone else was an enemy or I did not meet them on the island. And you are… were my brother."
Slade growled in agreement to the last sentence, accepting Oliver's reasoning without resistance.
Oliver smirked in satisfaction as he express ordered the last of the equipment he needed to make a (somewhat) Mirakuru proof area to release the anger, hatred, bitterness, and insanity that inevitably grew within him.
All that he needed now was a reason to be alone for several hours while he set up in the old factory.
…/|\...
As Oliver strode out of the mansion's double doors he uneasily noted that Moira and Robert were waiting outside with someone he knew not.
He pretended not to be aware of them, buttoning up his dark blue coat and heading in the other direction, hoping that they would leave him alone.
Unfortunately Moira called out to him, and he turned to face his parents with extensive trepidation and a small level of annoyance.
"Oliver. I want to introduce you to someone."
She had that smile which put Oliver on edge. She was about to ask or do something that she believed he would find inconvenient, and she was smiling in an attempt to play on his emotions of family responsibility and motherly disappointment.
Oliver turned and studied the man behind a troubled looking Robert; he was tall and dark-skinned, he stood in a rigid military stance framed neatly with navy blue suit and red tie, a gun on a holster on his side.
"John Diggle. He will be accompanying you from now on."
Oliver replied with an uncertain smile, looking at Robert whom he knew would be softer on these matters, "I don't need a babysitter."
"Oliver, I know that you are a grown man and that you feel that you don't need protection." Robert said.
Moira continued, "But this is something that I need."
Oliver grimaced, unsure if he should concede.
On one hand he knew that refusing would likely mean that his parents would do everything in their power to monitor his every action, which would not be preferable.
However having someone, especially a bodyguard, with him at all times increased the likelihood that his mask would fall and the monster inside released.
Oliver glanced at the man, reading his body language and decided that for now he would play along with his parent's wishes.
Perhaps they would not be so angry when he inevitably refused to take any position at Queen Consolidated.
Besides, it would hardly be difficult to give this man the slip – he was clearly used to babysitting spoiled brats, not a highly trained killer.
Oliver knew that the man would hardly be a threat, just a minor inconvenience – and he could deal with inconvenience if it meant that he would not have to deal with his parent's suspicions.
Oliver gave a nod to his parents, accepting that he would have to play along for now.
John Diggle stepped forward, and in a bored but polite tone, indicated that there was a car ready if he wanted to leave the mansion.
Clearly this man was not stupid and can read basic body language, and in combination with a clear military background and training, means John Diggle is a formidable man, Oliver thought.
"He will be quite a challenge." Slade stood behind Diggle with his arms crossed, and then smirked wickedly, "Good thing that we like a challenge."
Oliver stepped into the brown leather interior of the black polished Bentley, telling Diggle that he just wanted him to drive around the city so that he could see what had changed. Diggle gave a perfectionary nod, and obliged – not yet even the slightest bit suspicious of Oliver's somewhat ambiguous request.
After several minutes of awkward silence, Oliver decided to speak up, "So…" He drawled with fake uncertainty looking at John Diggle through the rear-view mirror, "What do I call you?"
The man readjusted the tension of his hands on the wheel before answering, "Diggle's good, Dig if you want."
Oliver nodded and with a sly smile asked, "You're ex-military?"
"Yes, sir. 105th airborne out of Kandahar, retired."
Oliver raised his eyebrows, and with a sideways look at Slade whom sat next to him, was impressed, despite himself.
"Been in the private sector for a little more than four years now." He paused before changing the subject, "I don't want there to be any confusion, Mr Queen. My ability to keep you from harm, will outweigh your comfort. Do we have an agreement?"
Oliver had already unbuckled him seatbelt, and ignored Diggle as he opened the car door.
"Sir?"
That was the last words Oliver heard from Diggle before he launched himself out of the car, rolling his body to absorb the impact.
He quickly moved out of sight, jogging into a nearby ally. Behind him, he could hear Diggle stopping the car and yelling "Sir?" in an alarmed and bemused manner.
Once Oliver was sure that he wasn't being followed, by anyone living at any rate, he changed pace.
Moving to a pre-organised drop point where he knew that his ARGUS contacts had left some of the more immediate items he needed.
Oliver made sure to stay out of sight, ducking his head so that no one would recognise the famous billionaire scion.
He did not need any media speculation to why he was wandering around alone in the Glades only a day after 'returning' to civilisation.
Oliver entered the unassuming crumbling red brick building that was secretly one of ARGUS's underfunded, undermanned outposts.
With only a glance, the bored agent directed him to a side room.
Inside there were several crates, Oliver knew that much of the equipment would not be needed for a few days so he only grabbed the essentials into an olive green backpack and sports bag.
Oliver also found amongst the technology and weaponry, several sets of clothes. Oliver changed out of his rich boy attire, into the more practical simple dark jeans, a light grey shirt, tan zip jacket, and combat boots.
Oliver left the building, walking to the Glades, shouldering the weight of the heavy luggage with ease.
No one in the Glades gave him more than a cursory look after seeing the cold glint in his eyes.
The homeless ignored him, in favour of fire burning barrels.
Finally Oliver reached the old warehouse.
Upon the white panelling the words were still easily read despite the layers of grime – 'Queen Industrial Inc. Steel Fabrication and Welding'
Oliver tossed the sports bag and pack over the fence before taking a running jump to clear the fence himself.
Oliver glanced behind him, checking that no one was watching, before addressing the ghost beside him.
"Diggle, a challenge?"
"Just wait for it Kid. He will be more alert and less likely to take his eyes off you after that stunt."
Oliver refrained from chuckling and walked into the abandoned factory, pulling open the sliding door and letting light spill into a room that had been untouched in well over five years.
The abduction was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
It gave him something to focus on while he had finished making a Mirakuru-proof base.
But what he had told the police was true, the man in the green hood was there in that warehouse, but he was not going to be any sort of hero.
Oliver tugged on black leather gloves, moving to where the concrete was thin enough to break through.
With a pick axe in hand he tore through the ground with only a two hefty movements.
Oliver stared into the space below, ready to begin making the space useable.
…/|\...
Oliver had knocked down metal walls with sledge hammers, lowered crates with ropes and installed a temporary lighting system in only a matter of hours.
Metal storage units, plastic crates and boxes, and steel tables were organised in a somewhat haphazard arrangement.
A series of basic computers at one end, on the left side was the tools he needed to make his custom green arrows and behind the work area was a salmon ladder and a space that he intended to turn into a gym of sorts.
On one of the plastic crates was a wooden box, Yao Fei's wooden bow case.
Inside lay, not only the precious hand-made wooden longbow of Yao Fei but also another bow.
Reinforced with metal and moulded to his height and hands – the bow was made especially for him and the needs of the Mirakuru.
Even the strongest man in the world would be unable to pull the drawstring back completely – this bow was made for the unnatural strength of the Mirakuru.
Unable to resist the craft that he loved so much, Oliver grabbed the bow and his quiver of green arrows, before setting up a tennis ball machine.
With a press of a button the tennis balls were released, bouncing at random angles and at different speeds.
Oliver waited for a moment before releasing arrow after arrow in quick fluid succession.
Six arrows in under seven seconds, each pinning a tennis ball to the wall.
Oliver's mouth quirked up in something akin to a smile.
"She would be proud of you Kid. Proud that you wear their hood and wield that weapon."
"I hope so." Oliver glanced at the apparition, "And I hope you would be too."
Slade just nodded.
