Several hours later, Oliver had returned to the mansion using the only registered motorbike that he had picked up from the Russian car dealers.

With a sigh he looked at the time and realised that he needed to be ready for Tommy's 'welcome back party'.

While Oliver did not feel like putting on the playboy mask, he knew that it would be necessary.

He buttoned up a plain white shirt and shrugged on a subtle navy blazer in an attempt to look somewhat like his former self.

As he opened the Bentley door, he felt himself smirk at Diggle whom was sitting in the car waiting for him.

"Put on your seatbelt, sir. Wouldn't want you to miss your party."

Behind him Oliver could hear Slade chuckling gruffly an unspoken I-told-you-so hung in the air.

With a genuinely amused smile, Oliver relented and sat beside the man, feeling more at ease with the idea of going to a loud and crowded place.

…/|\...

Oliver stood at the top of the stairs, the pounding noise of electronic music shaking the building, especially painful to his Mirakuru enhanced senses.

Balloons of silver, black and white were in pillars near the walls and exits. A crowd of mostly young college-age women filled the building.

A female DJ played music from her station above the crowd, nodding her head in time with the constant hammering beat.

Waiters dressed in plain black served a great variety of colourful alcoholic drinks from the brightly lit circular bar.

Stunning women were dancing on raised platforms, dressed in black halter tops, black short-shorts, fishnets and black heels.

Blinding lights dazzled and blinded the raucous crowd, and the smell of alcohol and over-used perfume permeated the air in a suffocating manner.

Oliver spotted Tommy instantly in the crowd.

He was raising a light brown drink, surrounded by beautiful giggling girls all of whom seemed both dazzled by his presence, and exceedingly drunk or high.

Oliver walked down the stairs, buttoning his blazer, checking his phone to see how long he would have to endure this madness.

Tommy immediately turned around, smiling widely as he noticed his best friend. He raised his hand, signalling to the DJ to cut the music.

She did so, and Tommy ran up the last couple of stairs to meet Oliver, slinging his arm around him in what Oliver felt was an over-friendly gesture.

Oliver tried not to frown as he noticed a familiar scent of perfume on Tommy, he could not place where he had last smelt it, and he was certain that it would be undetectable without the Mirakuru.

He dismissed it as just a popular fragrance, after all Tommy had been surrounded by women only moments ago.

"Heyyyyyy." He yelled calling for everyone's attention. Tommy patted Oliver's chest, and Oliver had to restrain his instincts that demanded to lash out. "Man of the hour!"

The crowd cheered and shouted in return, raising their glasses. Oliver and Tommy moved down the stairs immersing themselves in the crowd.

"And ladies, please, give this man a proper homecoming."

There were several wolf-whistles as two women escorted Oliver to a raised platform.

As Oliver stood, 'We are the Champions' began playing in the background.

"Thank you very much everybody." Oliver deliberately slurred his words.

Tommy grabbed two shots of Tequila and yelled over the crowd to get Oliver's attention, "Ollie, Ollie, Ollie."

Internally Oliver just wanted to throw the poisonous drink back at his supposed best friend.

The only times since first stepping foot on Lian Yu, Oliver had drunk anything alcoholic was the Australian Rum with Slade, Shado, and Sara and the Russian Vodka with Anatoly.

While the Mirakuru would counter any ill-affects alcohol presented, Oliver simply now did not care for drinking unnecessarily.

But Oliver kept the mask firmly in place and took the shot without question in unison with Tommy.

Although Oliver noted the naivety of Tommy – if Oliver really was trapped on an island alone and without alcohol for five years, this drink would have been difficult to swallow – of course with the Mirakuru he did not even feel the burning sensation that should have followed the shot regardless of the past five years.

But Tommy's lack of true logical thought about his story meant that he was unlikely to comment on any other changes or lack thereof.

"I miss Tequila." The lie slipped through his mouth with the ease that had accompanied the life of lies he know led.

The crowd, half-drunk despite the early hour, roared back in approval. Oliver fought to keep a sneer off his face at their mindless, narrow definition of the world.

How easy would it be to murder everyone and anyone in this room right now, he wondered. If I locked the doors, there would be no escape – and looking at the state of most of the crowd – I wouldn't even need a weapon to kill most of them, and probably wouldn't take me very long to do it either.

Oliver shook of the thoughts that he knew were only forefront of his mind due to the disgruntled madness in his system caused by the overload on his Mirakuru senses and walked down the stairs, leaving the shot glass on a nearby tray.

Tommy, of course, immediately led him to the circular bar. Pressing him with another drink before being led onto the dance floor by a girl wearing a particularly short and low-cut dress.

Oliver rested against the bar, nursing his drink, not intending for even a moment to drink any more than he already had.

In only moments, an attractive blond had moved next to him and initiating conversation, listening to his every word in rapt attention.

She was clearly looking for sex but Oliver found himself diverting her attention, despite his previous efforts to keep his playboy façade, he could not stomach the thought of sleeping with this stupid slut.

After several minutes she finally got the message, and when Tommy walked over she left with a blushing goodbye.

"Hey, does he wipe for you too?" Tommy joked.

Oliver followed his gaze to Diggle who was standing on the edge of the crowd, watching Oliver intently.

Slade was standing next to Diggle with a highly unimpressed look on his face – miming cutting his throat. Oliver held his stare unblinkingly until Tommy began talking again.

"Now, by my rough estimate, you have not had sex in 1, 839 days."

Oliver tried not to sigh as Tommy's mind immediately moved into the gutter.

Since the Mirakuru cursed his blood stream, Oliver hadn't allowed himself to think of sex after the utter clusterfuck that the Amazo had become.

What happened with Shado and Sara had forced Oliver to realise that sex would be downright dangerous to any partner with the strength and hatred his body now held.

But Oliver let Tommy turn him around, already planning on how he was going to go home without a girl on his arm, and without raising any suspicion about it.

"As your wingman, I highly recommend Carmon Golden."

Oliver closely studied the three women dancing on the platform that Tommy had pointed out, "Which one is she?" He asked more out of curiosity than anything else.

"The one whom looks like the chick from Twilight." Tommy replied.

Oliver frowned, while he had not been on the island for the entirety of the past five years, he still had little understanding of current pop-culture, "What's Twilight?"

"You're so better off not knowing." Tommy responded with an almost cheeky tone.

…/|\...

Oliver looked away from the dancing women, and scanned the crowd habitually.

In only moments his eyes had landed on someone whom he did not expect to be there.

Thea.

She was wearing an one-shoulder blue dress which was much too short and tight, make-up plastered her naturally beautiful face and, by focusing his enhanced sense on her Oliver could tell, even from this distance, that she was drunk from the way her heart beat erratically and the smell of alcohol on her breath.

She was talking to a man, probably in his mid-twenties, who was wearing a black jacket, red shirt, and a furtive look on his face.

Beside her stood a girl, twirling her lank brown hair, in a sparkly dress, too much make-up, and the face of a troublemaker.

In a second Oliver saw an exchange – presumably drugs – and he fought the urge to run over there and snap the man's neck.

Oliver tracked his sister's hands, seeing her place the drugs in her shoulder bag.

"Back in a minute." Oliver barely acknowledged Tommy as he strode across the dance floor to his sister. He could see Diggle following him out of the corner of his eye but ignored him.

When Thea saw Oliver she lit up, "Ollie, hey. This party is sick."

Oliver grabbed her arm and pulled her away, "Who let you in here?" He accused, angry that he hadn't thought to warn the doormen about not letting his underage sister into his party.

"I believe it was somebody that said right this way Miss Queen." She spoke as if she had a right to be here, and the Mirakuru flooded Oliver's system with a fiery anger.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Ollie, I'm not twelve anymore."

Oliver used her distracted mind to pickpocket her stash of drugs from her shoulder bag without her noticing.

"No you're seventeen." He answered back coolly.

"Ollie I love you but you can't come back and judge me, especially for being just like you."

"I know that it couldn't have been easy for you when I was… away."

"Away?" She laughed, "No. You died. My brother died. I went to your funeral."

Oliver clenched his teeth, angry that she was acting as if he had never lost any one, as if he had intentionally pretended to be dead, as if she was the only one in the world who had ever lost family members.

Slade hissed in his ear, "She's not going to listen to you right now, Kid. She's drunk and looking to get high. Talk to her later."

"Thea." Oliver spoke quietly, "We will talk about this later. Just…" Oliver hesitated, "Just promise me that you'll be careful, Okay?"

Thea rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine." She turned to her friends, "Let's bounce."

Oliver moved to the closest bin and deposited the drugs in disgust.

He looked up and saw Diggle nodding in approval – at least someone had some sense around here.

Oliver tilted his head and smelt the air – a scent that was both familiar and surprising, he had even smelt it on Tommy recently – Laurel?

"You're here?" he spoke, not even trying to hide his surprise.

"Tommy." She took a deep breath as though steeling herself for this conversation, "He made the point that we have too many years between us too leave things the way we left them."

Laurel's eyes seemed to be searching his, looking for something that Oliver was unsure that he had.

"Is there some place quieter that we could go?"

Oliver thanked whatever gods were listening – finally a reason to be out of this place that assaulted his sensitive senses almost to the point of physical pain.

Oliver took her arm and led her out of the main room and up to the quieter floor above. As they walked towards a free space by a large glass wall that acted as a window, Laurel began to talk.

"I'm sorry about saying that you should have been the one that died. That was wrong."

No, it wasn't. Oliver thought. I did die on Lian Yu, the Ollie Queen that you knew and cared for died on that Island.

"If I could trade places with her, I would." Oliver lied through his teeth – what happened to Sara aboard the Amazo – he would not wish upon his worst enemy, let alone himself.

"About Sara. There's something that I've been afraid to ask but I need to know."

Oliver looked deep in her glistening chocolate-brown eyes and wondered exactly what she was going to ask, "Okay."

"When she died, did she suffer?"

"No." Oliver thought back on her death – both of them – and heard her pained scream in her ears.

She suffered greatly both times, but he would gladly lie in order to keep his last promise to her. That he would let the Lance's remember Sara as an angel and not a monster, of what she was and not what she became.

"I think about her every day."

"Me too." Oliver admitted – I think about the mistakes that I made, what I did to her, and the blame I have in her death.

"I guess we still have one thing in common than."

Oliver could hear Slade's sneer, "You have nothing in common with this pretty little bird. She is still so innocent and light – she wouldn't last a day in our world."

Laurel continued her speech, unaware of the ghost's injections, "I can't believe I'm going to say this but, if you need someone to talk to about what happened to you. I'm here."

"This naïve girl who thinks she understands pain, that she knows suffering, that she could be any use to us. You will hurt her by being near her, you will destroy her spirit like you did Sara's." Slade hissed.

Something in his face from Slade's words must have showed as Laurel asked, "Are you okay?"

"Laurel. You always saw the best in me. And right now? That is what you are doing. You're looking at me, wondering if that island changed me somehow, if it made me a better person." Oliver could see the hope shining in her eyes, and coldly continued with the intent of destroying it. "It didn't. Stay away from me, otherwise I'm just going to hurt you again. This time it will be worse." He backed away slowly, replacing the playboy mask, "Gotta Roll – I've got five years of debauchery to catch up on."

"You know what Oliver, you're wrong, that island did change you. At least know you're honest."

Slade laughed at the ironic words that Laurel spat at him – The Island had changed Oliver entirely but he was still anything but honest.

Oliver let Laurel leave, satisfied that he would not have to deal with her again, unless it suited him.