So that was intense. Let's see what Felicity has been up to...

The song for this chapter is Walk Through The Fire by Zayde Wolf feat. Ruelle. He just builds such a great pace!

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Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Arrow or its characters.

Chapter Sixteen: Walk Through The Fire

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Felicity turned a stoic face to the man across from her in the plane. While the eyepiece was initially unsettling, she had quickly adjusted and found herself unmoved by his cynicism.

"I think I can handle it," she deadpanned and he just smirked, cleaning his gun for the third time.

"Don't listen to him, sugar," the blonde next to him reassured her. "Deadshot here just has trust issues." Felicity was both intrigued and a little wary of the crazy eyed blonde woman. She seemed completely in control of herself but also like she was right on the edge of falling completely into insanity.

"How would you know anything about me, Blondie," Deadshot asked sarcastically.

"I used to be a psychiatrist, you know. I know things."

"What happened," Felicity asked without thinking. "I mean, how did you go from that to… this," she asked awkwardly, gesturing to the somewhat cartoonish appearance she was sporting.

"What always happens: a man. I was treating this guy in Arkham and bam, found myself changing for him. And after the three or four crime sprees I went on… well, that's how I found myself working with these lovely folks," she said sweetly while looking at the team around them.

"Don't let Harley unsettle you," Diggle assured her. "She's harmless… if you stay on her good side." Lyla rolled her eyes and Felicity chuckled nervously. She was trying to do more than think about what was happening to Oliver, wondering what they would find when they got there.

"So what about you, sweetie; what's your talent?" Felicity smiled slightly.

"I'm good with computers." Deadshot scoffed.

"Is that it? What are you even doing here? This isn't the time to be updating your Facebook status." Felicity continued to smile at him but Diggle and Lyla both saw the gleam in her eye.

"You're right," she said, pulling her laptop open. "I mean, what could I possibly bring to the party, right? Well, I mean, I can find anyone in the world. Even you, Mr. Lawton. Oh dear, you have quite the reputation, don't you? Well, of course you do. Not everyone wins medals for sharpshooting. And it looks like people are willing to pay for such experience and talent. Three offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands seems a little much doesn't it?" He glared at her. "Of course those are small beans compared to the one you have in that Swiss bank. Does Zoe know she has a little over five million dollars?"

"Alright! You've made your point," he said petulantly and Felicity basked for a moment in her success. "I just don't see how that helps us inside."

"Felicity can hold her own," Lyla assured him. "Now if you are done playing, let's go over the plan." They huddled closer to the schematics Lyla spread across the table. "This is our entry point. There are guards here, here and here," she said gesturing to each spot. "Oliver is being held somewhere around here," she pointed to a room in what appeared to be a basement. "We split into teams. Harley and I will cover the exit. Diggle, Felicity and Deadshot will infiltrate. You will move through these corridors. Take out anyone who gets in your way. We need to do this stealthy and quiet. If they know we're here, they will kill Oliver." Deadshot grumbled under his breath about 'babysitting the princess' but Felicity ignored it. "As soon as you have him, get the hell out of there. This is not a sanctioned mission and there won't be backup to come save you." Felicity nodded, checking the laces on her combat boots and pulling her back into a low ponytail. She'd traded her glasses for contacts and now she was filled with a nervous buzzing in her blood as she tried to focus.

Was Oliver still alive?

The plane landed and they all loaded into a nondescript vehicle. Everyone but Deadshot changed into some military uniforms and soon they were pulling up to a small compound in the middle of nowhere. Felicity and Diggle hopped out and pulled a now cuffed Deadshot out, each taking one of his arms and leading him to the gate.

"Identify yourselves," a guard shouted at them in Russian.

"New prisoner intake," Felicity barked back, her Russian impeccable and she could see Lawton give her an impressed side glance.

"Name," the guard drawled.

"Floyd Lawton." He looked up, finally looking at the man with them. His eyes widened and he opened the gate for them. They led Lawton inside, listening to the intake instructions from the guard. When they arrived at the room where they were supposed to surrender him over to the prison guards and leave they were relieved to see that it was only the man who had led them inside and one other guard.

"You may go," their guide told them. Felicity and Diggle nodded and that was her cue to drop a lighter to the floor. The second guard reached down to retrieve it but she brought her knee up into his face and then elbowed him in the back, forcing him to the ground before she grabbed his hair and forced his back and then slammed it into the concrete floor, leaving him still and unconscious. While she had been taking out this threat, Diggle had taken out their guide and they tied them up and shut them into a closet where they wouldn't be discovered. She shed her military coat and pants, leaving her in the black catsuit Lyla had issued her right before leaving the compound. She checked her gun while Diggle uncuffed Deadshot and took a moment to focus her mind, even though her stomach felt like it was going to betray her.

Oliver was alive and she was going to get him out of here.

They moved through the hallways quietly, Deadshot going first with Felicity between them. They rounded a corner and quickly took out the second set of guards. Felicity moved quickly, muscle memory and adrenaline giving her extra speed and strength. They kept moving down but stopped just before the room outside where Oliver was being kept. Lawton motioned to them and they pressed themselves against the wall. He stared at the wall between them and the room they needed to enter. He looked back and made the hand signal for 'seven'. Diggle swore under his breath but Felicity just pulled her gun out of its holster and nodded to Deadshot. He counted down and then they moved into the room swiftly, immediately engaging with the nearest Russians. Felicity kicked out the knees of the man nearest, bringing him lower and she took advantage of the change in height to punch him before swinging herself behind him and knocking his head into the wall.

Before she could catch her breath, she felt arms grab her from behind and she reacted instinctively, bracing against the wall and pushing off of it to force her attacker back. They fell back and stood quickly, kicking his head as hard as she could and he fell back. She looked around, seeing Digg and Lawton both engaged in combat.

"Go get Oliver," Digg ordered and she nodded. She pulled the gun out and held it with both hands in front of her. She approached the heavy metal door and eased it open slowly and silently. She peeked inside and her heart stopped. Oliver was inside, slumped in a chair, hands and feet bound. He was covered in blood and bruises, one leg stuck out at an awkward angle.

She barely recognized him.

But far more concerning was the large man standing in front of him.

"Very well. I guess this is goodbye, Mr. Queen." She watched in horror as he pulled a gun from his pants and aimed it at Oliver's head. Felicity felt everything slow down and all she could hear was the sound of her slow breathing and her heartbeat in her ears. She aimed her gun at the man's head and took a breath before she pulled the trigger. The sound reverberated around the room and she saw Oliver slump limply in his seat. A few heartbeats later, the man in front of him crumpled like he was made of straw and she moved forward cautiously, eyes roving around the room in case they weren't alone. She stepped over the body, looking down and seeing blood pooling around his head and shoulders, glazed blue eyes staring fixedly at her. Her eyes moved to Oliver, taking in his injuries and looking for a bulletwound.

"Oliver," she said quietly but forcefully as she pulled a knife from her boot and began to cut the rope binding him. "Oliver. Answer me." His head moved slightly and finally she was gazing into his eyes -or at least one since the other was swollen shut -and she felt something in her heart unclench.

"Felicity," he rasped in confusion.

"It's me," she promised. "Oliver Queen, it's time to come home."