A/N: I suck at updating, but my schedule should get better soon. For whatever reason, I had so much trouble with this chapter. FYI, I scrapped Jakes bio in the prologue, mainly because I changed a few minor things. His face claim is still the same though, he's played by the guy in Kickass and Pietro Maximoff in Avengers.

"So, this is like the fourth voicemail you're getting from me. Y'know, since you won't answer your fucking phone," Jake paused his rant, facing the mirror in his room with a grimace as he continued to wrap a bandage around his left shoulder. Along with the area around it, the wound itself was still sore from his decent stitching job.

It was currently the morning after his unexpected meeting with the famed green archer. He had immediately rushed home after his escape to patch up his impaled shoulder. He wanted to recover at the abandoned house his uncle had owned, but it wasn't close by and he had been quickly losing blood. Once he indulged in a glass of his trusty bottle of Bourbon to ease the pain, he called up Nico to assure that he was fine. And to talk him into handing over Maia's new number.

"I know you're busy hunting down Victor, but I- we have a bigger issue right now. Like I said in the last three voicemails, someone knows about us. He asked questions about you and the Santa Muerte, tried to scare the piss out of me, and then he put an arrow in my shoulder. And as much as I wanted to, I didn't get to return the favor to Robin Hood. Some guy with tattoos showed up, and I bolted. Good news? I only had my burner phone on me. Replacing my vape pen is the only con I can think of."

He turned to his bed to stare at the long, rectangular case that was situated near the edge.

"This is bad, M. No one can know about who we are and what we did, it's too dangerous for them and us. Please, just call me back on my main cell as soon as you can," Jake sighed before hanging up and placing his phone on the bed. Afterwards, he stared at the iron wood case in front of him a moment longer.

He stayed up all night thinking about the significance of this case, and whether or not he was ready to open it. He closed this case, that part of himself after he left Brazil. Almost every single item inside was a connection to what he became there, and every life he's taken. He was the Ghost, a seemingly soulless being who slaughtered and destroyed the evil, corrupted souls of men. He went from being a damaged, grieving teenager to an urban legend.

With the conclusion that he needed to resurrect that part of himself, Jake exhaled a deep breath before prying the case open with his hands.

Once it was opened, he was welcomed by the familiar sight of his equipment. A black and sleeveless cloak-like hoodie was situated in the center, along with a black tube face mask that sat on top and two arm bracers on the right. One was a full sleeve with black leather buckle straps, and the other was a half sleeve that just covered his forearm with plated steel. Both were lined with Kevlar.

The top and bottom halves of the case were occupied by his arsenal of weapons, which aligned with the lengthy sides of the case. The two blades, a Kukri Machete and a Ginungting, were crafted out of Damascus steel. A pair of custom Colt 1911's sat between them, as well as its six stocks of ammunition. The framework of both guns imitated the unique construction of the same steel that made the blades. It's combination of various alloys merged together, forming into a pattern akin to the wood of the case securing it.

Finally, three small drawstring pouches were settled in the bottom left corner. Everything was cushioned above bunches of straw that filled out the wooden case.

Jake smiled, reaching over to grab two of the black pouches. The items were a reminder of who he was without his signature moniker. They signified the good natured qualities that still existed inside, making him human.

He opened the first one that was labeled 'Gift', pulling out a small, maroon rectangular box. His smile only brightened as he cracked the box open for a brief moment, reading the name that was labeled inside.

A sudden buzz was heard from his cellphone, and in turn he placed the box back in its bag before checking it. He chuckled once it was unlocked, his small smile turning into a grin as he read the text message from Thea,

Hey! Laurel and I just got back from the airport, and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this afternoon? We could catch up on things, go shopping, whatever you're in the mood for!

XO

With another smile, Jake replied with a text of his own,

Yeah, I'd love to! I just have to make a stop before then, you can meet me there if you want.

XP

35th St. Rosewood Cemetery

After sending his message and setting aside his phone, Jake grabbed a hold of the other bag. He loosened up the strings that tightened the bag, pulling out a necklace. His rough fingers curled around the black leather cord before grazing over the sharp edges of the Damascus steel arrowhead in the center. He then turned the pendant over, recognizing the familiar engraved symbol on the back, single flame decorated the metal.

In more ways than one, this necklace was a connection to the spitfire Jake had met a few years ago. Maia helped him survive, taught him how to improve his stealth, and educated him on everything he currently knew about bladed weapons from the Philippines.

To this day, he still couldn't fully understand why and how he trusted her the way he did. Maybe it was because she was one of few of the most attractive girls he had ever met, physically and personality wise. Or maybe there was something inside of her that drew him in, something that reminded him of himself.

Maia was like him in many ways: mysterious, committed, loyal, down to earth. And like him, she had a temper. But when pushed, she could raise a lot more hell. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Two small, passionate flames that came together and wrecked havoc on anything that crossed their paths. Anyone who survived their attack had sure wished they were dead.

Looking back on their relationship, Jake concluded that there were many things that contributed to the end of their romance. One being everyone's worst enemy, time. They had both changed over the course of their journey, and their perspectives on certain things had darkened significantly. Maia's change, however, was directed from something else. Loss, grief, revenge.

She had lost someone during the war that Phillippe had purposely created. Someone she knew ever since she could remember, someone who raised and protected her. That special someone had inspired her desire to make something of herself. Losing him the way she did changed everything for her. Aside from caring about her friends, her love and protectiveness over Jake was the only thing that remained consistent. She did her best to preserve his humanity, even whilst struggling with it herself.

Her involuntary ties to the Garmudela brothers didn't help matters, it only complicated things. Especially when it came to Phillippe's plan to take over the gang. And that genius plan consisted of recruiting Jake instead of killing him. Since the Brazilian drug lord had been banned from his home country until he paid his brother the money he owed, he had stayed in Starling City. He had eyes everywhere whilst building up his reputation as a notorious drug lord. And one night, he ended up spotting a hooded Jake, who was sixteen at the time, at an underground cage fighting tournament within the heart of the Glades. The man watched with a smile as a bruised Jake won the brutal match against a guy who was nearly twice his size. Which was huge, considering that Jake was over 6'0 tall at the time.

Philippe had seen something in Jake that night: inner strength, willpower. He hadn't even turned eighteen yet and he already seemed like he had more balls. His gall left an impression on the Brazilian, and for whatever reason, it gave him an idea that would make anyone with common sense scratch their head.

Luckily enough, he ended up stealing everything his brother had built. However, he couldn't enjoy it before witnessing it crash and burn. Everyone else scattered to different places, some followed Victor, and others stayed behind.

"That fucking idiotic bastard..." Jake murmured out with a scowl as his eyes trailed down to the right side of his chest. He ran the pad of his thumb over the branded area, outlining the scarred yet sculpted pectoral muscle. The pink and slightly deformed area of skin was shaped like a skull.

For Jake, having this brand mark on his chest had been nothing more than a curse the past few years. The only reason he even went through what he went through in Brazil was because of the selfish, greedy actions of a drug dealing bastard. Malcolm might have been responsible for his father's death, but there was nothing that could prove his involvement. Every bad thing that happened afterwards was because of Phillippe. Bloodshed, death, manipulation. That was proof. All of the bad shit that occurred during those next few years was because of him.

The resulting damage in what he did had forever changed the life of not only Jake, but for Maia as well. They were both forced into a war that they didn't want to be a part of. The only difference being that Jake's involvement seemed liked a coincidence in the beginning.

With her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, Thea quietly passed through the steel gates, entering the cemetery. The only sounds she heard around her as she searched for Jake were the soft whispers of the Fall breeze, followed by the crunching of leaves beneath her boots.

It was about an hour past noon, and so far it had been a fairly nice day with partially cloudy skies. The youngest Queen was looking forward to spending the day with Jake and reconnecting with him. Although, a part of her thought that it was slightly strange of him to request she meet him where his father was layed to rest. Her memories of the funeral were vague, considering she wasn't there that long. She didn't really know his father beforehand, and she didn't want to intrude, despite the reassurances of his mother.

Jake never really mentioned his father around Thea, or any of the loved ones he'd lost. And in turn, she wouldn't bring up Oliver or her father. That was their deal, an unspoken promise to never open up old wounds that were inflicted upon by loss. They were each others escape for awhile. Until, somewhere along the way, the meaning of their relationship changed.

Through the hardships of their lives, they became closer and formed a close friendship. And as they got older, Jake found himself developing feelings for Thea, despite the petty arguments he would have with her every so often. He even became protective of her when she began her course of drug abuse.

Since he had been back, Thea had found herself reflecting on their relationship more than she did when he left. Her feelings about his departure had blindsided her on so many levels. The youngest Queen didn't expect to miss Jake as much as she did. She was more angry than anything in the beginning. She felt abandoned and betrayed, like what they had meant more to her than it did for him. In the end, it didn't take long for that anger to turn into sadness, guilt, and regret.

She found his tall form in front of his father's grave, his hands were stuffed in his jean pockets and his gaze was focused on the marble slant. A display of varying fresh flowers surrounded the gravestone.

He was quiet as Thea silently walked over to stand beside him. Another moment passed before he finally spoke up.

"This is the first time I've been here since I got back. Hell, I didn't even visit much before I left," Jake began, swallowing the lump in his throat before continuing.

"I figured I'd uh, tell you what happened the night he died. Y'know, since I already broke that promise in our last fight."

Thea frowned, shaking her head as she glanced at the gravestone in front of her, "You don't have to, Jake."

Jake finally turned away from the grave, facing Thea with his unguarded blue eyes, "I want to, Thea. I want to be able to talk about this with you. I'm not just that sarcastic asshole you considered a friend. We're both different people now. And I want to show you a side of me that you haven't seen."

He glanced down to the ground before inhaling a deep breath through his nose.

"I had just left a friends house for a party when I got a voicemail from Laurel telling me it was an emergency, and that I needed to come home. The last time Laurel sent me a message like that was after she found out that Sara was on the Gambit, so I knew that something was seriously wrong. There were at least 5 cop cars in front of the complex when I got back. My mom couldn't even look me in the eye without crying, and Laurel... She looks at me with teary eyes, shaking her head, and I knew that my dad was gone."

Jake paused, reaching up to thread a hand through his dyed curls as a wave of emotion hits him like car crash. All that's left after it dies down is anger, which in turn causes him to swallow hard and clench his fist. He wanted to punch something, but he couldn't. Not in front of Thea. So instead, under her watchful and concerned stare, he sighed deeply.

Now wasn't the time to physically release his frustration. Besides, he had plenty of time to vent later on during his meeting with a former "acquaintance".

"I just wish that he was there more when I needed him, y'know? Instead of Benji coming over to help me with homework, or staying over at Laurel's when I was tired of being in an empty house for most of the day. My dad worked his ass off to make sure I was taken care of in the long run, but none of that really matters to me now."

In an attempt to calm Jake's fairly tense demeanor, Thea placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She watched him closely as he turned away from her, facing his father's grave once again.

"I'm not okay Thea. I haven't been since he died. Honestly, I'm still as lost as I was when I left. And I don't know how to find my way out of the maze," Jake confessed with an empty look in his eyes as he turned away from the grave in front of him.

Thea felt her heart shatter into pieces as she noticed that his usual charming blue eyes were glazed over slightly, as if he was about to cry. She wasn't used to seeing him look so broken. The man that she currently stood beside wasn't her Jake. Someone who never failed to make her laugh and smile. Someone who was always a text message away, even if he was pissed at her after one of their arguments. Someone she took for granted back then, but not this time.

With a determined look on her face, Thea grabbed onto Jake's left hand, pulling him towards her, "It might seem impossible right now. And it will for a long time. But eventually, slowly, that feeling dulls. Slowly, you realize you're free, and that one event, no matter how powerful, doesn't tie you down forever. Moving on isn't forgetting, Jake. It's remembering to live."

Jake closed his eyes again with a deep sigh, releasing the tension from his body along with the long exhale. He understood Thea's words, be he couldn't fully let go. Not after knowing the truth about his fathers killer.

"There's this guy that I used to know, dark hair, blue eyes. He was obsessed with baseball and martial arts. And he had a thing for beanies, Chuck Taylor's, and hoodies, "Thea paused with a soft giggle, noticing Jake's eye roll at the remark about his clothing style.

"He could be an obnoxious jerk sometimes, but he was always there when I needed to vent. He was special to me, and I miss him," she admitted with a warm smile and slightly flushed cheeks.

Facing Thea again, Jake flashed her a small smile that reached his eyes.

So much had happened to him while he was away. His rough experiences in Brazil had darkened him, exposing the savagery in his actions and shaping him into a hardened man. He became somewhat of a monster.

But, as Thea smiled his way with a bright gleam in her forest green eyes, Jake realized that maybe he wasn't the monster he saw himself as. Along with Laurel and his mother, maybe Thea could reveal the remaining light in him.

Starling City Police Department

In a seated position, Quentin opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out a file. He closed the drawer afterwards with a deep exhale, scooting back up to his desk as he practically slaps down the bulky file in front of him. Thoughts plagued his mind as he studied the labeled cover with a glare. He remembered the countless nights he'd spend reviewing everything he could find on Phillippe Garmudela and the Santa Muerte. Those nights only progressed, turning into sleepless nights, after the death of Michael Hawthorne. Every single officer felt that loss at the station. But their feelings of sadness and grief could never hold a candle to the pain that Quentin felt.

Michael was more than a comrade during his years as a cop. Lance's friendship and mutual respect for the Lieutenant had only grown after his eldest daughter befriended Jake. This only escalated his feelings of guilt after Michael died and he couldn't do a thing to catch his killer. He searched for days, for months. And after he barely made a dent in the case, he was told to focus on current and more important cases from his superiors. By that point, Phillippe had fled the country, making it harder for him to be found.

Ever since then, Quentin always had a feeling that he would have to open this file again. That feeling only intensified after bodies started showing up in the Glades. Bodies with a skull shaped brand mark burned into their skin.

"Dad?"

Quentin looked up quickly, the apparent shock in his facial expression wore off in an instant and was replaced with a heartwarming smile at the sight of his eldest daughter.

"Hey sweetheart! Enjoy your little spa weekend?" The captain questioned, his smile widened a little bit as he covered the file in front of him with his large hand.

Unfortunately, this action didn't go unnoticed under Laurel's observant gaze. She had already glanced over to his desk once she walked in, quickly reading the label on the tan cover.

Crossing her arms, Laurel walked up to the desk with a sigh, "It's okay, Dad. Phillippe's dead. You don't need to keep beating yourself up over this."

She paused with a raised eyebrow, noticing her father's tense and anxious behavior, "There's something else, isn't there?"

Quentin sighed, closing his eyes briefly before running a tense hand over the top of his head, "A pair of bodies showed up in the Glades the morning you left. Two more showed up this morning out by the shipyard. All of them were members of the Santa Muerte."

In pure shock from the revelation, Laurel turned away from her father's gaze. A million thoughts overwhelmed her mind in less than a second. Along with an equal amount of negative emotions like anger and frustration. It takes her a few minutes to process this information. To realize that the man who was responsible for most of Jake's pain still had an influence, even in death.

This realization made the blonde vigilante livid.

Quentin watched as a look of anger flashed across his daughters face, before finally fizzling down to sadness. He understood her current feelings, especially since he felt the same way after he had found out. Jake was like the brother Laurel never knew she wanted, and his father's death was one of many things that inspired her to become an attorney.

This made it harder for Quentin. He had his suspicions when Jake had returned, but those small thoughts in the back of his head had quickly transformed into theories as soon as the bodies started appearing. And he couldn't ignore the possibility, no matter how hard he wanted to. It didn't matter that these men were criminals, monsters. He was a cop, someone who fought for justice.

"There's more," The captain paused, clearing his throat before hesitantly meeting his daughters eyes.

"We still have a few more things to look for. But I... have my suspicions."

The serious, yet subtle look he gave Laurel was enough to convey what he was thinking. He didn't need to elaborate.

Almost immediately, the blonde attorney shook her head vehemently in an attempt to expel the mere thought from her brain, "No, No. Dad, Jake would never- he's not capable of being a mass murderer! I can't believe that you think he did this!" Laurel exclaims with a disbelieving tone, crossing her arms.

"I don't want to believe it, Laurel. The kids practically family! But I can't just ignore the feeling. The detective in me just won't ignore the possibility, "Quentin paused again with another sigh.

"Jake left, sweetheart, for almost 4 years. He didn't contact anyone. Hell, he practically disappeared off the face of the earth! And then, all of a sudden, he pops up again. Blue hair, leather jacket, and a darker look in his eyes. I've seen that look before, in almost every criminal that I arrested for murder. Those men worked for the man who killed his father, he had more than enough reason."

Laurel shook her head again in disbelief, turning away from her father. She covered her face with her hands, bringing them up to rest against her forehead.

Her father had point, no one knew where Jake went or what he did during the last few years. Laurel didn't want to admit it, but he was somewhat of a stranger now. She knew right away when he visited her at her office. The goofy, sarcastic, and rebellious boy she once knew had changed. Almost like the way he was right before he left, but darker. Either way, she wasn't going to give up on him.

So, with her decision made, Laurel turned to her father with a determined glare. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she strutted towards his desk, grabbing the file, "He's innocent Dad, and I'm going to prove it."