**A/N 03-2011: A new Chapter One (2 . One) has been inserted, pushing all other chapters, except the Prologue, down one.**

Disclaimer: DC content not mine. Not making $

Spoilers through Season 8. Alternate Universe. Set Post Season 7. Features some Original Characters. No Clark. Lex knows.

Cover Art: http : / /lyxanderblue .deviantart .com/gallery/#/d38wuyl

SOMEONE TO BELIEVE IN

"You hold the future of the entire planet in your hands; I'm here to take it back. I loved you like a brother, Clark, but it has to end this way."

- Lex Luthor, on the day Clark Kent died.

FOUR

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STREETS Of METROPOLIS

.

Oliver knew that Clark hadn't exactly embraced the life of crime fighting. Of course he was all about the save, but Oliver hadn't been able to wrangle the Boy Scout into his fold...yet. Still, even on his worse day the guy still managed to rescue someone's kitty or put out a trashcan fire. Oliver, unfortunately, did not have the natural skills to multitask like Clark did: rushing here and there, doing in seconds what might take Oliver hours.

With him and Chloe tying up so much time looking for Clark, Oliver's regular duties—both in and out of costume—had been woefully neglected. Chloe had convinced him to take the better part of a week and focus on his company and the streets of Metropolis. Chloe had holed herself up at Isis while Dinah had taken point on the search for Clark, crisscrossing the globe veritably at Chloe's every whim. Oliver needed to find someone to cover for both his day and nighttime activities. In the meantime, he'd have to make due.

Which is how he found himself in his current predicament: woefully exhausted, perched atop an impound lot light pole, and surrounded by a pack of Doberman pincher watchdogs. His favorite compound bow lay twenty some odd feet away in the paws of a less interested canine that would much rather gnaw on carbon fiber and rubber. A simple car thief didn't seem worth it now.

The dogs didn't look like they'd be losing interest any time soon. The fierce hounds snarled and barked, pawing and scratching the pole, desperate to sink their teeth into his green hide. Oliver hoped he could just wait them out, but they were in a frenzy and showed no signs of tiring. His stun darts had run out earlier that evening. The collapsible mini-crossbow that fit into a holster at his side was equipped with a grappling hook, but there was nothing in his radius to latch onto.

"Easy, rover," Oliver deigned to one of the more eager watch dogs scratching at the pole.

It was at times like that Oliver envied Clark's invincibility and other gifts; he was also frustrated by how wasted they were tending to a farm. He thought about calling in for some backup, although he couldn't imagine what help was available, but his pride wouldn't consider it. It was a simple and embarrassing predicament, but he was stuck none the less.
.

.

QUEEN TOWER

.

Christopher's week hadn't gone at all as intended. In fact, nothing really had worked out the way he planned or imagined. Though, as far as plans went, he really was just "winging it." In hindsight, expecting to just waltz into Isis and be welcomed with open arms was sort of naïve and ridiculous. Christopher knew he wanted the same things they did: finding and bringing Clark Kent home safe and sound.

He just didn't know how to explain that. Or convince them. He wasn't about to give up. He just needed more information and a way to gain their trust. He'd try again at Isis in the morning, but he was hoping that a mano-e-mano chat would do the trick. Which is why Christopher was riding the elevator up to the executive office—and residence, if he understood correctly—at the top of Queen Tower. That it was after hours and he was showing up unannounced was a minor detail.

Christopher pulled out his tablet and turned it on, the blue glow illuminating his pale face in the burnt orange, intentionally unfinished urban style elevator car. He had been doing as much reading as possible—it was almost all he had done—since arriving in Metropolis. If his mother taught him one thing, it was the value of knowledge and information.

A program was still running. He had performed a minor hack on the 'research facility' at Isis and was able to remotely access a finite amount of information. What he saw on the screen unsettled him.

Christopher hit the stop button, the alarm sounding, and then directed the elevator back down to the first floor. He hoped he was wrong about what he saw. At any rate, he now knew the penthouse office was currently vacant so his visit had been in vain. So far, his every move had felt futile and he was really ready for his luck to change. His foot tapped impatiently as the illuminated numbers counted down a little too slowly.
.

.
"Are you just gonna sit up there all night?"

Chloe.

Oliver looked around; he hadn't noticed any security cameras earlier. Peering into the darkness over his left shoulder he spotted a small white box atop the fence. It moved back and forth, as if waving at him. He offered a halfhearted salute.

"Oh, ya know, Chloe," Oliver said, pressing his earpiece. "I gotta get my beauty rest wherever I can catch it. How long you been watching me?"

"Long enough. I saw your green blip sitting still for quite a while, so I thought I'd investigate. You don't call me Watchtower for nothing."

"Glad to know I have my privacy," he muttered.

"You want help or not."

"What are you gonna do? Hack the puppies?"

"Cute. There's an automated gate not far from you."

Oliver could see the front of the impound lot and its heavy duty gate. He was just out of sight of the guard. It was wonder they hadn't seen him on the security cam Chloe had hijacked.

"There's a cherry picker parked on the other side of it."

"What, you're gonna go all grand theft auto and cyber-jack it to pick me up?"

"Something like that."

Oliver had his doubts about the plan, but she had been pulling off some amazing feats as of late. He was beginning to suspect something up.

"Alright, we'll play it your way." He said, "I'm ready to be wowed."

"Your carriage well be there in five."

A raucous scraping of metal signaled the gate opening. Some of the dogs' attention was drawn by the noise. He waited impatiently for his ride. Several minutes passed.

"He Chlo'," Oliver said, "not to be pushy, but how's your techno magic coming."

Static.

Awesome. Lost the signal.

In the distance, across the lot, Oliver heard several alarms go off. Moments later, the security guard could be seen sprinting towards the ruckus. An engine revved up and headlights were suddenly blinding Oliver. He heard the sound of a car getting rapidly closer; some of the dogs scattered, others raced towards it. An old Cadillac lurched to a stop at the base of the pole; the darkly tinted window cracked an inch.

"Need a ride?" a male voice yelled.

Oliver didn't wait, but instead shimmied down the pole far enough that he could drop safely onto the car roof. He hit with a crunch, the metal denting slightly. The Cadillac peeled out, the barking Dobermans chasing after them.

"Whoa! Slow down there, hotrod!" Oliver called and banged on the roof; he barely hooked his fingers into the open window as inertia pulled his body across the car. He felt the passenger window roll down an inch and he hooked in there too.

"Arrow, this is Watchtower; can you hear me?" Chloe's voice crackled in over his headset.

"Not really a good time, Chlo," Oliver replied curtly.

His body swung widely as they banked a corner. Headlines of the Green Arrow seen riding atop a stolen car leaving an impound lot was at the bottom of his wish list, so Oliver carefully reached for the passenger door handle.

Locked.

Oliver tapped on the door and window, but the driver didn't unlock the door. They sped through the open gate towards freedom. Oliver fought to hang on as they hung a sharp left and tore down the empty street. The car turned sharply into an ally three blocks away between two darkened apartment buildings and stopped.

Oliver jumped off the roof quickly and went to the driver's door. The car jerked into reverse and zoomed back onto the street, facing the way they came. Oliver sprinted towards the Cadillac as the door opened. Something was tossed out before the door slammed and the car darted away.

Oliver slowed his pace as he approached the street to see what the mysterious driver had left behind. What he found when he knelt both surprised and amused him: his bow. He picked it up in wonderment, fingering the teeth mark, and went to the street.

The red taillights of the Cadillac were visible in front of the impound lot. The driver stopped at the open gate and the door swung open. The driver got out – he wore dark clothes and had a hoody covering his head – and sprinted away, disappearing around the corner.

"Huh."

Oliver thought about pursuing him, but since the mystery man turned out to be his rescuer instead of a carjacker and he someone how retrieved his favorite bow, Oliver let him go. Sirens and flashing red and blue filled the dark night, converging on the lot. Slinging his bow over his back, Oliver moved towards the alley and stepped on something.

Kneeling down again, Oliver found a tangled mess of wires, a small metal rod, and what looked like a clock face. It took him a few moments to figure it out, but he breathed in sharply when he did: a timer and an explosive detonator.

He realized it was where his bow had landed and he missed it the first time. Whoever had rescued Oliver had also disabled a bomb and left the evidence for Oliver. It was a clue or hint of some sort. His mystery rescuer must have also called the bomb squad because one of their dark vans tore past Oliver, splashing muddy water towards him. He jumped out of the way and disappeared into the shadows. With questions burning in his mind, he fired his grappling hook towards the rooftops.

.

DAILY PLANET, EDITORs OFFICE
.

Tess stared in disbelief at the email before her. How she could have made such an egregious oversight, she didn't understand. It had been a less than two weeks since her visit to Switzerland and she hadn't heard a word from Lex. She thought they had lost him again, that someone had gotten to him, or worse. Oh, how wrong she was.

.

Your paranoia, rash behavior, and lack of trust has cost me severely. I asked for the crystal, not to see you. I know you're unaware of the vast resources I had invested in that facility, or of the hand-picked world-class scientists housed there, because it wasn't a LuthorCorp asset.

However, I can see that you acted out of misguided loyalty. Consider this a pass. In the future, I expect you to follow my orders to the letter. We can't afford mistakes right now.

I want Project Olympia reassembled and I'm putting you personally in charge of it. Do whatever it takes to unlock that crystal's secrets. I want results, Tess, not excuses. And I want real-time updates. I want to know what you know when you know it.

As for LuthorCorp, worldwide acquisitions are flailing in this economic slump. Don't succumb to it; take advantage. Our AGI should be up 15% by year's end. Queen industries has been buying out from underneath us and exploiting my absence. I want it to stop. Take care of Oliver Queen.

Effective immediately, I'm giving you full executive control of LuthorCorp's daily affairs; I can't be bothered with menial administrative decisions when we're on the cusp of a breakthrough that will change the world. Prometheus will be the Luthor's greatest accomplishment. Do not let anything compromise its wellbeing.

And, Tess, stop wasting time and resources looking for me. – X

.

Tess slumped back in her chair after rereading the message for the third time. She didn't know whether to sulk in her self-dissatisfaction of failing him or rejoice in his entrusting her with so much. 15 percent! How on Earth was she going to amass that much capital gain in less than three months? With Lex funneling every last bit of spare change towards Prometheus, she was already fighting to keep them out of the red. Perhaps crushing Oliver Queen was a great way to kill two birds with the proverbial one stone. And what was Lex's interest in this crystal?

"Believe me, I reacted the same way when I saw today's headlines."

Tess looked up to see Lois Lane barging through her office door and marching, red-faced, to her desk. Lane slapped the paper on the desk, as though Tess hadn't already seen it. Tess smiled condescendingly at Lane's behavior and rose from her seat to pour herself a glass of water.

"Lane. I haven't fired you yet?"

"Guess you're too busy printing my stories," Lois shot back.

"If she hasn't fired me, she's not going to fire you."

Vandal Vanderbilt had joined them. He was leaning in the doorway, a haughty and contemptuous look plastered on his face. He wore a deep brown shirt with a loosened maroon tie. Tess laughed aloud when she saw that Lane's outfit could have been cut from the same fabrics.

"We're writing stories together and matching ensembles now?"

Lane's glare was split between Tess and Vanderbilt.

"Is there a reason why you and your partner are barging into my office at this hour? Or do you just enjoy wasting my time?" Tess asked, directing the question to Lane, while gathering together her things.

"We're not partners."

"Just wondering when Luthor's going to appoint a real editor and let you get back to ruining his company." Vanderbilt said, stepping into the room and closing the door. He began to look around the office, fiddling with the trinkets on her shelves.

"The two of you are already on thin ice; I wouldn't push your luck."

"I'll take my chances," he retorted, grinning defiantly back at her.

Tess put on her coat and headed for the door; Lane intercepted her.

"What you pulled with the city transportation story a few weeks ago was bad enough, Tess, but this," Lane said hotly, putting the paper in front of her face and pointing at the story on the front page, "is whole other kind of low. This was our story. You approved not one, but three drafts before we submitted it."

"For two basement hacks with a Monday morning front page headline, you're rather unappreciative," Tess replied curtly, holding the door open: a not so subtle hint for them to leave.

"I know it comes so naturally," Vanderbilt said from behind, approaching nonchalantly and showing no signs of intending to leave, "but don't play dumb."

Tess lips parted ever so slightly as she fought to gape at his audacity; she saw Lane shoot him a warning look.

"You completely rewrote our story," he continued, "You put your own little Tess Mercer biased spin on it to protect your ass...ets."

"Ever heard of a little thing called journalistic integrity?"

"Yeah, would you like me to tell you about it?" Vanderbilt shot back.

"Oh, ho ho. He's a comic now. Care to take a stab at the funny pages?" Tess retorted quickly and dryly, "Listen you two, this paper is not your own little personal platform for mudslinging. There was a story there, but not the sensationalized one you'd hoped for."

"The thing about mud, Tess," Lane said scathingly, "is with a slant like yours, it always runs downhill. And we're the ones getting buried. Not only did you completely change our story, but you slapped our names on something that we don't stand behind. I want a retraction."

"If anything, I saved your reputations," Tess replied, "the frenzy that slander piece of yours would have stirred up would have had us printing a retraction by noon."

"It's libel when it's printed," Vanderbilt corrected her disdainfully.

"Not when the security cameras at Cadmus labs have Lois Lane on film loudly vilifying several public officials. My only surprise with that hole was that it wasn't your big mouth doing the digging, Vanderbilt," Tess countered smugly. "Not your best moment, Lane."

Tess ushered them out and locked the door.

"The last few months have been a little bumpy for you, and if I'd venture a guess, I'd say it has something to do with him," Tess said more quietly, looking Lane in the eyes, and then insinuatingly glancing towards Vanderbilt. "You wouldn't be the first colleagues to bump heads, and then find it convenient to pair up to see what goes bump in the night, but if you're not careful, you might find its your career that's been bumped off track. If I were you, I'd find a different partner."

Lane's eyes went wide as Vanderbilt visibly stifled a laugh; Tess turned and walked away.

"We're not partners!"

.

.

Continuing his patrol hadn't seemed like the best idea, but Oliver was a junky for abuse. He'd stopped three break-ins, two muggings, and one car-jacking. Compared to the way he had started his evening, it was walk in the park. Although, cracked goggles and a black eye had left him pissy.

It was also small potatoes. Clark could have cleaned up that mess in a fraction of the time and still gotten himself tangled up in some other more convoluted scandal. He also wouldn't have any war wounds or weariness to show for it. After this Oliver was going to need a stiff drink and a very long nap. Clark also would have found him by now, were there roles reversed. Oliver and Chloe hadn't the faintest idea were their flannel wearing Boy Scout might be.

As Oliver jumped from one rooftop to the next, he saw the globe of the Daily Planet come into view. He thought of Lois and missed her. Sometimes their reasons for being apart didn't make much sense, but he acknowledged that with the current state of affairs, he'd be an even worse boyfriend than before.

Oliver paused on the rooftop across the street from the Planet, LuthorCorp Plaza towering over them. A woman exiting the front doors caught his eye.

Mercy.

Oliver shook his green-hooded head and grinned uncontrollably. Tess Mercer was like a live wire and he was ill-fated insect; she had this irresistible allure, but he knew he'd get fried. Mercy crossed the street and the lights glinted off her red hair; it was worn up. He preferred it down in loose curls. She was so wound up. Everything about her was tight and stiff and controlled now. He followed her path ten stories above. Though she'd never actually let him, he thought the least he could do was walk her to her car. She pulled her black pea coat tighter against the cool night air, as if she knew he was watching.

When Mercy arrived at her car, she paused and stooped beside it. Oliver cocked his head, watching her curious behavior, and crouched. Then he saw it: the knife sticking out of her tire. He couldn't help but chuckle. As a titan of industry, he'd had a few run-ins with disgruntled employees and the like.

Oliver's mirth faded when he saw the tire slasher approach Mercy from behind.

"Oh, hell no," Oliver whispered, and swung his legs over the side of the building.

He was a tall, brawny, dark-skinned man with a shaved head and a dishonest presence. Oliver was half way down the side of the building, the only sound from the tiny wench lowering him speedily to the ground, when the man put his hands around Mercy's neck from behind.

He said something to her Oliver couldn't hear and then slammed her forcibly against a wooden power pole. The air left her lungs in a high pitched gasp; Oliver's feet touched the ground.

The man's face moved into the light and Oliver's pace faltered for a mere second.

Marcos.

The memories flashed through his mind in an instant: the island he was stranded on, getting captured by Marcos and his pirates, meeting Mercy and Megan only to watch Marcos kill Megan, and then escaping the island with Mercy, leaving Marcos for dead.

Marcos raised a knife and Oliver raised his bow.

"You left me on that island to die—"

Thwump.

The arrow grazed over Marcos's knife hand, slicing open two fingers, and penetrated his shoulder, knocking him back and to the ground. Mercy spun, a frightened look on her face; her cold cowl returned when she saw him, or rather the Green Arrow.

"Are you alright...miss," Oliver asked through his voice changer, adding the latter as an afterthought. He looked her over for injuries.

She nodded, gingerly touching her throat.

"Guess you have tomorrow's headline?" he joked.

"I wouldn't bet on it," she said flatly, then pushed him aside and thrust forward sharply. Oliver barely caught a glimpse of Marcos rushing towards them and Mercy's four inch heel snapping out and cutting into Marco's forehead.

Marcos fumbled and then slashed blindly with the knife. Mercy kicked it from his hand and Oliver grabbed Marco's arm, swinging his other elbow into the side of the man's head. Marcos collapsed to the asphalt.

"Nice assist," Oliver told her.

Mercy ignored him and walked to her car. She stopped and turned towards him.

"What were you doing in the arctic?"

Oliver cocked his head to the side; the question caught him off guard.

"Just a little skiing."

"It's just, I'm sure you know why I was there," Mercy said shrewdly.

"Yes, and the world is much safer since you've brought Lex Luthor safely home."

"Lex isn't the menace," she countered, her eyes narrowing. "You are. You've stolen from and terrorized Lex enough times, destroying LuthorCorp property and thousands of jobs in the process, for that to be painfully clear."

"I'd expect his seat warmer to believe his lies and I won't waste my time trying to convince one of his brainwashed lackeys to believe in the good we're doing."

"Mm. Well, it seems you didn't steal anything this time, Robin Hood," she continued. "Maybe you didn't find what you were looking for. Or maybe, you were there for a different reason. One of Lex's friends, a Clark Kent, went missing about the same time. You wouldn't know anything about that now, would you?"

"Sorry, I don't keep up with the Luthor social calendar," Oliver said quickly, ready to back out of that conversation. "Well, I've got some more distressing damsels to terrorize. I'd wait around for a "thank you," but your genial company is losing its charm by the minute. Try not to get mugged again tonight; I can't guarantee I'll come to your rescue after this lovely little chat."

Oliver turned and sprinted towards the building, hopping atop a dumpster and then easily scaling the side of the building using the ample window ledges. He disappeared into the night, his mind churning, wondering about Tess, and Lex, and Clark, and his mystery rescuer, and the bomb that didn't go off.

A/N: thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.

Chapters FOUR, FIVE, and SIX started out as one chapter so if you want to consider them that way, that's fine. FOURa FOURb FOURc ...whatever