Oh hey guys. I really did not mean to cliffie you like that for so long. Let's just say that real life wanted to give me the opportunity to describe pain more colorfully. So when I said buckle up, I meant it. Because this is going to be a hard ride and I don't want to lose anyone along the way.

The song for this chapter is Save Tonight by Zayde Wolf.

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Chapter Fifteen: Save Tonight

Pain.

So much pain.

Oliver slowly felt his senses coming back to him. He took stock of his injuries while his mind rebooted. The first was the ache in his arms and shoulders. He was hanging, his feet just barely brushing the ground as heavy, metal manacles bit into his wrists. He could feel the pain eating down his spine into his legs, burning and aching. He waited, trying not to open his eyes until the last possible moment, taking his time to figure out where he was. The room was cold, so probably underground. He could hear water dripping somewhere and the echo in the room meant it was bare, probably concrete or cinder block walls. He could hear someone breathing across the room, moving occasionally, waiting.

"I know you are awake, Оливер. You are only prolonging the inevitable by pretending to sleep." He was speaking in heavily accented English.

He knew that voice.

His eyes opened, slowly adjusting to the dramatic lighting of the room. Only a few solitary bulbs were lit in the large room which was otherwise cast in darkness. He blinked a few times, trying to see past the glare of the nearest light to his companion. The man sat casually, relaxed in a chair near the door. His large frame seemed outlandish in the current setting, the pristine tuxedo speaking of cocktail parties and State dinners instead of the damp prison Oliver found himself in. His blond hair was slicked back on his head neatly and his icy blue eyes watched Oliver curiously.

"We are in a bit of a situation, aren't we? You see, I know that you are not faithful to the Bratva. I also know you have been feeding information to our enemies. What I don't know is who and how much you have shared." His voice was as pleasant as though he were discussing the weather or recounting an amusing story. Oliver knew that his nonchalance only made him more dangerous. Konstantin Kovar was a high ranking government official; which only made his ties with the Bratva more perilous.

"I won't tell you anything," Oliver said equally as calm despite the overwhelming ripples of pain across his body. Kovar smiled indulgently.

"Not at first. But you see, it is very important that everything happens according to plan and that my involvement remains unknown until I am ready to make that connection." He stood up slowly and walked up to Oliver. "I respect your loyalty to whoever you are working for. It is commendable for a man to have principles. But that will not stop me from killing you to get what I want. So you may keep your silence at first. But rest assured, Mr. Queen: I will have my answers." He placed a large fist into Oliver's gut forcefully and Oliver let out a pained huff of air. "Влад, покажи гостю гостеприимство," he said over his shoulder and a hugely muscular man stepped forward, the menacing scowl doing nothing for his face. He began to attack Oliver, who tried to protect himself with no success. Kovar shrugged into his tuxedo jacket and turned to leave. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Queen."

Oliver was no stranger torture. The Bratva used it for all manner of transgression and even just to train sometimes. So Oliver was used to pain and knew that he was going to die whether he talked or not. His first priority was protecting Felicity and his daughter and while Kovar seemed confident in the abilities of his lackey, Oliver knew that hellfire itself couldn't make him say anything that would potentially harm his family. So he bore the pain silently, already resolved. Vlad, for his part, didn't hold back. When he had finished beating Oliver with his hands, he pulled out a car battery and hooked it up to Oliver, delivering brutal waves of agony with almost maniacal glee. When Oliver had neared the limit of his endurance with electricity, he'd been treated to having his face shoved into ice water. The freezing water slipped into his lungs and it felt like he was burning from the inside out. After Vlad had tired of playing in the water, he'd gone so far as to break Oliver's right leg. A sound like a shotgun echoed around the cold chamber around them followed by Oliver's agonized scream.

He didn't know how long had passed. He knew he didn't have much left in him before he would die. His nose was broken and bloody, dried blood adhered to his face and bruises covered almost every inch of his body along with several new cuts from Vlad's knife that would probably never have the opportunity to turn to scars.

"Well, Mr. Queen, I am surprised. I do not know many men who could live through Vlad's attention without cracking. But you… you still refuse to say anything," Kovar was saying as he paced languidly in front of Oliver's broken, bloodied, sagging body in the chair before him. "If I had even ten men as strong as you, I would not have such messes to clean up." Oliver felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness, barely able to open his swollen eyes, the pain starting to take on a fuzzy effect. "But unfortunately, my patience is at its end. Tell me: how much do your shadowy friends know?" Oliver just sat silently, his head lolling forward slightly. "Very well. I guess this is goodbye, Mr. Queen." Kovar pulled a handgun from his waistband and pointed it at Oliver's head steadily. Oliver raised his head slightly to see it before his chin dropped. He closed his eyes.

Felicity, he thought forlornly.

The sound of a gunshot reverberated around the room and Oliver slumped limply in the chair.