The office was silent, just as he liked it when there was work to be done. The light from his computer screen illuminated his face and shed a cold light on the bookshelf behind him, where picture frames displaying photos of major accomplishments in his industry were displayed. He was in all the photos.

Besides the occasional clicking of keys, the only sounds were those of his security detail outside his large estate, the one he spent a large amount of his profit on, just so he could be farther from the city.

David Tirrell continued to read the documents displayed in front of him, not paying attention to the clock at the bottom of the screen that read 12:27pm. He always considered moments alone and in silence the most productive.

Then the lights went out, and there was a shout outside.

Tirrell stopped reading and looked up from his laptop. From the window off to the side, he couldn't see anything going on in the courtyard below, but he could hear faint sounds of his men calling to each other. Immediately after, there were gunshots. They lasted barely a minute before there was silence again. Tirrell stayed completely still for only a second before a warning flashed on his computer screen: a notice from his security system, saying the cameras on the south side of the property went dark.

He didn't think after seeing that. It was instinct to shut down his laptop. It was instinct to grab the loaded gun from the bottom drawer of his desk. It was instinct to run towards the office door to lock it, but as soon as he put his hand on the handle, two of his security guards grabbed the door and forced themselves inside.

"What are you doing?!"

"Let us in and shut the door, Mr. Tirrell!" One of the men pressed.

"Why? What's going on?"

"Those masked people are coming!" The other piped.

"What masked-"

A series of gunshots went off in the living space just around the corner, and Tirrell's men forced the door open. The first stumbled into the office, but just as the second one tried to shut the door, and gloved hand slipped through and held it open. The door burst open, and a man dressed entirely in body armor with a half black, half orange, mask forced his way inside. Tirrell's second guard fired at the masked man, but the bullets bounced off the armor. The masked man advanced towards the security member as he pulled a gun from a holster on the side of his thigh, but when the guard tried to disarm him, the masked man punched his chest. The guard stumbled back, only to be met by a shot to the shoulder that sent him to the ground.

The masked man looked towards Tirrell, but another shot went off behind him and a bullet bounced off his back. The man didn't have to turn around to see the arrow fly in from the doorway and bury itself in the guard's shoulder. Tirrell's gaze shifted away from the masked man, and towards the female figure that stood in the doorway of the office, lowering a black recurve bow. Through the darkness, he could see the quiver filled with arrows on her back, as well as the hood and the mask that was pulled over her mouth and nose.

Both the masked man and the archer walked towards Tirrell, who raised his gun and tried to shoot them, but none of the bullets came close to hitting either. The masked man grabbed Tirrell's arm and twisted it, making the business man shout as the gun fell from his hand. The grip the vigilante had on Tirrell's arm strengthened as he slammed him into a wall, quickly taking hold of the business man's neck.

"David Tirrell."

"What do you want from me, you psychopath!" Tirrell growled between short breaths.

"You've stolen over thirty million from your clienteles. I want that money returned."

"I don't know what you're talking-"

The masked man's grip around Tirrell's neck strengthened, and Tirrell struggled even more.

"I believe you know exactly what I'm talking about,"

"I don't know…. what you're trying to accomplish…. but I'm an honest businessman," Tirrell sneered between breathes, "I didn't steal anything from my clients….and the cops will agree…. when you two are in cuffs."

"Lies won't help you now," The masked man warned, "By midnight tomorrow, you're going to transfer thirty million to Starling City bank account 4587."

"Why would I…do that?"

"Because if you don't, we'll come back and take it ourselves, and you won't like how."

The masked man released his grip on Tirrell and let him fall to the ground. He immediately clasped his hand around his neck as he desperately took in breaths, but when he looked up, the masked man and the archer were gone.

Policemen moved in and out of Tirrell's house and lights from squad cars and ambulances shone inside from the open doors. From where he stood next to the counter in his lavish kitchen, Tirrell saw two EMTs pushing a gurney, with his security guard on it, outside. He was still watching the paramedics when two members of the SCPD walked up towards him. He recognized the one with dark skin as the captain of the SCPD, Frank Pike, but the one with a long coat and peppered gray hair didn't look familiar.

"Mr. Tirrell," The man with peppered gray hair spoke, "Detective Quentin Lance of the SCPD. Can you explain to us exactly what happened?"

"What, tell you exactly what I've been telling your men for the last hour?"

"It's for clarity, Mr. Tirrell." The Captain said.

"Like I've said before, I was working in my office when the lights went out and I heard shouting from the courtyard. The security cameras on the south side of the house went out, so I grabbed my gun. Before I could lock the doors of my office, a pair of my guards were shot by two people in masks."

"Can you describe these people in masks?" The Detective asked.

"One of them was wearing some type of black, blue, and orange body armor. He had a mask that was half black and half orange, and he carried almost any weapon you can think of, including some Japanese sword."

"A Japanese sword?"

"And the other mask?" Pike questioned.

"Some woman with a dark green overcoat and a hood. She had some mask pulled over the bottom of her face and a quiver filled with arrows, and she had a bow."

"So some gunman with a Japanese sword and a medieval archer," Quentin stated, "Yeah."

"You think I'm playing around, Detective? I'm just trying to mind my own life when these two nutjobs break into my house and demand thirty million dollars. When that much money is on the line, I don't play around. Now, they said they would be back if I didn't transfer the money. I want the SCPD at my office building to coordinate with my head of security."

"Alright then…" Pike muttered, "Why don't you sit down with a sketch artist and try to get us a picture of these masks while we finish things up here."

Tirrell didn't say a word as he walked past Quentin and Pike, leaving them in the middle of the investigation.

"Was someone able to get the footage from the security cameras?" Quentin asked.

"No, it was completely wiped without a trace."

"Well that's awfully convenient."

"Just finish things up here. I need to get back to the station and manage the questions that are going to come in once the media gets a hold of this."

As Pike walked away from Quentin, the detective turned around and looked back at the officers still moving around the space, trying to gather any evidence that was left. Another one of the detectives walked into the room, carrying a crime scene kit at her side.

"Detective Hall!"

The detective stopped and turned towards Quentin. "Detective Lance."

"Did you find anything up there?"

"Fingerprints, but they're most likely from the security guards. We'll still run them."

"Good, good."

"Find anything down here?"

"No, nothing," Quentin huffed, "Just when you thought this city was done with surprises, this comes up."

"The job wouldn't be as fun if surprises like this didn't show up," McKenna quipped, "But the best part of it all is seeing the nutjobs in court and behind bars once it's all over."

"Suppose so. Just keep working on anything you find here. I have things to do with the force, because apparently, we're up for private hire now."

"So long as we catch whoever threatened Mr. Tirrell last night, then I'd say it's worth it."

"You'd make a good captain with that approach."

"Just doing my job, detective."

"Aren't we all," Quentin huffed, "Hey, listen, tonight I'm going to need a partner for the stake out. You interested?"

"What about your partner, Detective Hilton?"

"He's visiting relatives in Coast City for the rest of the week."

"Sure," McKenna answered, "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Good. I'll fill you in later today and let you know what's going on."

"This wouldn't be a normal stake out?"

"No. Something tells me tonight's going to play out a little differently than normal."

Her footsteps didn't make a sound as she stepped down the metal staircase, and even as she walked into the open basement, her presence still went unnoticed by the man seated at a desk in front of three computer screens. Metal tables were also set up against the wall, and aluminum cases were laid out on their surfaces. Each case had the same engraving on the top:

A.S.P.A.R
Advanced Spanish-Portuguese Army Research

On a table that wasn't set up against the wall, a bicolored mask and a set of body armor made of protective plates and composite fiberglass. It was the prototype of an A.S.I.S-A.S.P.A.R project, meant to be duplicated at a later time, but the developments were terminated after it was deemed too expensive for mass production. After using some old favors from higher-ranked officials in both government organizations, Slade took possession of the suit. Next to his suit was a black recurve bow and a matching, tri-strap quiver filled with dark green arrows.

Shado walked to the desk where Slade was seated and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched a map displayed on one of the screens.

"Is everything working?"

Slade looked to the side at Shado, and noticed she was still in the attire she wore out the previous night. The long, forest green overcoat with Kevlar-lined sleeves hugged her body perfectly. She still wore the black, leather pants and knee-high boots, but her gloves were discarded to the side, next to her bow.

"Yes, everything's in order," Slade answered, "Where have you been?"

"Making sure the old cameras upstairs work. Should things go south, now we can get a warning."

"And they work?"

"You should be able to connect them with the system after the rest of this is set up."

"Good," Slade said as he stood up from the chair, "As soon as we got back, I wiped the security footage from Tirrell's system. We're in the clear, and the cops didn't see a thing."

"For someone who was trained to work out in the field, your knowledge of computers still surprises me."

"I'm no expert, but ASIS and ASPAR taught me a few things over the years."

"Speaking of ASPAR, do you want to get the rest of this set up?" Shado said as she gestured to the metal cases and empty tables around them.

"Yes, we should do that." Shado flashed a smile as she turned around and walked towards a set of the cases. Slade watched her for a moment before looking back at the three computer screens set up. Like the rest of the equipment, they were provided by ASPAR, and were some of the best money could buy.

"While you were up there, did you see anything useful?"

"We are right below Folston Tech's old warehouse," Shado remarked, "There's bound to be something we can use," She opened the first case and saw the abundance of medical supplies inside. "Then again, with a supply like this, I don't think we would be missing anything. How were you able to get this much from the organization?"

"You remember Christopher Stocklin?"

"Vividly, yes."

"He has a few connections outside of the agency and he was able to get a little extra for this crusade."

"Unbeknownst to our superiors?"

"It seems most likely."

"When we finish the crusade, remind me to thank him properly."

"What? With a gift basket?"

Shado smirked. "I'm not that generic. Besides, three years of receiving Christopher's help? He deserves more than a gift basket."

"Well those years of service are most likely out of obligation to the organization, not some friendship."

"You were just the one saying that Christopher went outside of the agency to help us. Doesn't that suggest there's some interest in helping us, even if ASPAR doesn't see it fit?"

"Christopher's served them for years. He's one of their top agents. He wouldn't go behind their backs unless the action benefited them."

"Well clearly that's not the case, given the circumstances," Shado countered, "If he only worked to benefit ASPAR and not to help us, then why would he get supplies to aid us in finishing the mission sooner? He knows that when we stop the major sources of crime here, we can leave the organization and go back to our families."

"Getting too involved with ASPAR now that we're here seems unwise. We shouldn't take any more chances with him."

"If Christopher helped us then, he would help us in the future. He's a good person, Slade. We can trust him."

"ASPAR assigned us to stop major criminal organizations that originate here in Starling. That's it. If we work with one of their most loyal agents and he finds out our real reason for agreeing to this mission, then we might as well walk to the director's office ourselves."

"Like you said, ASPAR wants us to stop major criminal groups. But this list," Shado said as leaned towards her bow and picked up the small book beside it, "The men on here all contribute to those same groups."

"Not all of them."

"And those people commit crimes just as dishonorable."

"The director wouldn't believe that unless we brought in solid evidence. He wouldn't believe that a billionaire's dead son's list of names is an accurate source, and we would both be watched even more closely," Slade reasoned, "I agree with you on the fact that we shouldn't cut off ASPAR completely, but now, we need to distance ourselves if we have any chance of seeing our crusade to an end."

"And when we find ourselves in a position that requires their assistance?"

"Then we reach out to them as a last resort."

"Making contact randomly after not reaching out doesn't seem like a good idea. ASPAR has agents across the globe. When we fail to reach out, they'll send those agents to find us, and if we only reach out with requests, then someone will grow suspicious. If anything, keeping contact is the way we keep them in dark."

"You mean by giving them false information."

"Yes, if it comes to that."

"Shado, you know I trust you with my life. I need you to trust me on this. Yes, keeping contact with them is still necessary, but now we need stop reaching out to their agents. We can't take any risks."

She was silent as she stared at Slade, but then looked away.

"Alright then," Shado said, "You have more experience in this field. I trust you."

"Thank you."

"But answer this question for me. What happens when something goes wrong, like you've suggested? What happens when we aren't able to carry out Oliver's crusade?"

"We both made a vow: to honor Oliver's memory by seeing his father's wrongs made right. One way or another, we'll keep our promises."

Flashback: Lian Yu, 4 Years Ago

Shado walked into the plane with her bow at her side, but wasn't surprised to see Slade inside as well, rummaging through a wooden box.

"Have you seen Oliver?"

Slade turned around to face Shado. "No. I haven't seen him since last night. Why?"

"He's been gone all night and I can't find him."

"Do you think he did something?"

"I'd be a lot more comfortable if I knew where he is. He's not in a stable place and I don't want him to hurt himself."

"Should we go look for him?"

"No need," Slade and Shado bother turned around to Oliver walking in from the split in the side of the plane. "I'm right here."

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you all day!"

"I needed some space."

"Oliver," Shado sighed, "I know the hell you must be going through, but we have no idea what Ivo may do next. Going out alone isn't smart."

"I understand."

"Good."

"We should start training," Slade interjected, "There's a man that needs to face justice."

"We'll start working out in the field," Shado said, "Meet me out there when you're ready."

Shado walked out of the plane, leaving Slade and Oliver face to face. They only stared at each other for a moment before Slade walked over to a plastic crate and picked up to sets of bamboo sticks. He tossed a set to Oliver, who caught them with both arms as Slade walked by.

"Hang in there, kid. That man will be on his knees begging for forgiveness before you do to him what he did to Sara."

"I know."

"Don't wait too long. There's still work to be done."

Slade walked out the same way Shado had, but even when he was gone, Oliver stood perfectly still. He took the bamboo sticks into one hand and looked down at his free one. Before, he would look at the dirt and imperfections of it, as there was nothing else to see, but now, there was so much more: the muscles moving with every twitch, the soft cracks he could hear from the bones, the small pulsing beneath the flesh, and the blood he could feel rushing through the veins. The power he felt in one finger was unlike anything he felt in his entire body, and when he clenched his fist, he was able to see that power before his eyes.

Justice would be served, and he could carry it out however he saw fit.