A/N: Hello m'dears… I hope the week has been a good one to you!

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S/N: This chapter is actually being split into two (with the second due to be posted by Saturday at the latest) because the chapter was getting a tad long.

When Sienna pulled up in front of Queen Consolidated fifteen minutes later, she was beyond furious. Slade had lied to her. It was yet another broken promise. And this promise was even more damning than the others he'd broken. What was happening to the people of this city was not something she could easily forgive. Nobody innocent was supposed to get hurt. He'd promised her that. He'd guaranteed that his war with Oliver was one that was only going to be fought between them. And he'd lied. The proof of his lie was all around her. The screams of the damned sang on the night air. Up ahead she could see a crowd of people fleeing a small hoard of his masked barbarians. Even with the windows rolled up and the AC on the stench of blood and smoke permeated the air, clogged in her throat. The destruction being visited upon the city (and the people) of Starling at the hands of the men who worked for Slade, was already at near catastrophic levels. If the city managed to survive this siege being rained down upon them, it would take weeks for it to recover. If the city can recover, she thought as she chewed on her lower lip.

Sienna knew a great majority of this was happening because Slade had fallen in love with Shado. However, and as she'd found out that afternoon (but not told Marta about) it was a one-sided love affair. Shado had developed feelings for Oliver (and he for her, even though Oliver refused to admit that when she'd questioned him on it). That had not, as Oliver had calmly pointed out to her, mean that Shado did not care for Slade. She had. She just as Oliver said, "Didn't love Slade in the same way he loved her."

And that was the root, one of the many tangled roots, of the problems here. Slade's Mirakuru soaked brain had created an image of Shado. A full bodied duplicate who spoke to him, encouraged him in committing his violent acts, and who stirred his anger and hatred for Oliver into a full blown frenzy. This replica of Shado loved Slade as he'd wanted-needed the real Shado to love him. And that, she knew, was the biggest vine that was wrapped around this knotted oak of bitter friendship.

It was the serum, combined with this apparition of Shado whispering in his ear along with his already acrimonious feelings towards Oliver that was pushing Slade into taking everything away from the man he'd once called brother. As Oliver had taken Shado from him (in both her affections as well as her life), so now Slade was taking everything he cared about from him. And one of those things he was taking away was the very city Oliver protected as the Arrow. It wasn't that Slade hated the city or the people of Starling. No, she knew that deep down; he held nothing against the city or her people. It was just she represented something of Oliver's that he was going to take away as part of the punishment he'd planned out for him.

It was getting him to see how it was wrong to punish innocent people for something not even Oliver had control of that was going to be difficult, though. Convincing Slade to rescind the orders he'd given to the baboons in his employee was going to be about like trying to swim in a vat of honey. The man did not do anything easily. Once he was set upon a particular path, he was like a steam engine. He wouldn't stop until he either ran out of steam, or something (or in this case, someone) caused him to derail. It was disrupting his chosen path that she was struggling to figure out. Fighting Slade physically wasn't something she could (or ever would) do. She lacked the physical strength for one, and she didn't have the heart for another. However, she'd more than happily match her stubbornness against his any day of the week. But first things first. As she turned her dilemma over in her mind, looking for a solution that would get Slade to see his way to reason; she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, much like a cat swishing its tail.

She simply refused to believe she couldn't get Slade to see how demolishing the city was wrong. There was too much between them, too much of them for him not to at least listen to her. If there'd been nothing between them, that spark, the one which had grown over the length of the year they'd been together, wouldn't have burst into a forest fire. If he didn't trust her, love her, he would not have asked her to marry him. She was going to hold on to that, she decided as her hands tightened and released on the wheel. Whatever else happened, she was going to hold onto that spark. A determined woman could accomplish a helluva lot with just that one tiny ember.

Pulling Slade back from the brink of darkness, stopping him before he became a genocidal maniac, showing him what he stood to lose if he continued down this path, would be a challenge. Her lips quirked. She'd always enjoyed one. She'd have to do more than chip through Slade's ice. She'd have to tackle the serpent slithering around inside of him-and facing Nagini was not going to be an easy feat. Plus she'd have to deal with the two women who were flanking Slade: the Shado who is a malevolent spirit, and the Shado who was a kindhearted woman. When a woman had to wage war upon two such opposing forces, that woman had best have a plan in mind. And an understanding of just how far she could push her campaign before the man caught between the three of them would ground her into dust. She'd play the hand she'd been dealt, though. It was all she could do. But that didn't stop Sienna from feeling as if she was about to become the winner at a losing game.

She stepped out of the car, pushed the door shut. There was time. Not as much time as she would have liked given the circumstances, but there was still time. She could stop this. She had to stop this. She straightened her skirt before crossing the street. Two masked dodo's were standing guard at the front entrance.

Narrowing her eyes, she fixed them on the men. "Move."

That woman had learned the knack of commanding compliance at her father's knee; her simple word sang with an echo of authority, undertones of confidence. The men heard them; they looked at each other, clearly trying to decide what to say, or do. Then the first dodo took a step forward. "I don't take orders from you."

The second grabbed his arm. "You do from her."

"Oh, yeah?" Dodo growled. "And why's that?"

"'Cause she's the boss's woman."

Sienna released the anxious breath she'd been holding while Dodo muttered some unflattering curses, and slowly stepped aside. It had been a gamble, and one that could have turned out quite disastrous. She'd counted upon Slade having made it clear to his men that they were not to harm her in any way. Terrified security guards watched as she entered the building. She gave them a reassuring smile as she crossed to the elevators. That the guards didn't immediately alert Slade to her arrival testified to just how scared they were. Not that she blamed them. Her knees were shaking and her heart racing faster than a heard of wild Mustang's. She waited impatiently for the elevator to reach the ground floor. All of the sudden, every second mattered. A chime sounded. The elevator door slid open. Sienna went to step forward but stopped when she found herself staring at the absolute last man that she wanted to be face-to-face with at that moment.

"Mayor," she said frostily. "I'd say I am surprised to find you here." Her lips thinned into a line of stark disapproval. "But since razing the city to the ground..."

"This is not what I wanted," Blood interjected in a low whisper. Something Sienna couldn't identify shifted across his eyes, darkened his face for a moment. "It is not what I was promised."

Sienna merely scoffed. "Right." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and fixed him with a look of such derision that it had Sebastian's blood boiling. "Destroying the city so that you could rebuild it in your grand image has been your plan all along."

"I never intended for the entire city to be destroyed," Sebastian insisted as he exited the elevator.

"From fanaticism to barbarism is only one step."

"Diderot." There was a note of surprise tingeing his voice. "I find myself... impressed with your grasp of philosophy, Miss James. I would not have imagined someone like you to have ever read something as complicated as the Essai sur le Mérite de la Vertu."

"I am not the airhead you have always perceived me to be, Mr. Blood," Sienna said as she skittered backwards in order to put distance between her and this coward masquerading as a man. Her eyes, Sebastian saw, were watchful and wary. She didn't trust him, it was clear. And she had good reason to not trust him. What he'd planned to do to her in order to bring Slade Wilson to his knees repulsed him. Bile was a fire ball stuck in his throat, burning a hole in his belly. Wanting to possess this woman in order to teach Wilson a lesson was tantamount to what Wilson was doing in order to punish Oliver Queen. It made him no better than the man who was tearing his beloved city to shreds.

"Miss James," he said while shifting the aluminum case he carried to his other hand. "I find that I owe you an apology." He reached in and hit the button to hold the elevator doors open. "And if there was time I would humbly beg you for your forgiveness. However, if either of us hopes to stand a chance at stopping what Slade Wilson has planned, my apology will have to wait."

Sienna's eyebrows shot up. He owes me an apology? she questioned silently. For what, I wonder? "Mr. Blood..." she said slowly. "I'm not exactly sure what you expect me to say here."

Wearing a cryptic smile, Blood waved her inside. "Nothing needs to be said, Miss James," he said. "Now, please, hurry. If there is anybody who might be able to get through to Slade Wilson, it is you."

Sienna wavered for only a second before she scooted around Blood into the elevator. The scent of jasmine floated after her and made Sebastian think of hot summer nights and front porch swings. Then the doors shut. But her scent, Sebastian saw, lingered.

An ESU convoy, with five unmarked cars leading four SWAT vans, and fifteen patrol vehicles, sped along the highway, swerving around police roadblocks (as well as personal vehicles which had been abandoned wherever they were) en route to where masked men were laying waste to their city. Suddenly, a dump truck lumbered to a stop at an intersection where a rookie beat cop on his rotation was holding up traffic in order to allow the convoy (once it reached him) to pass through. Officer Robert Davenport, fresh out of the Starling Police Academy, and all of twenty-two, jogged out from his post behind his police cruiser and approached the cab of the truck.

"Hey, buddy, you can't come through here right now," he said right before he took a door to the face. He was unconscious before his body even hit the ground.

"Bring 'em on through," the driver said in a walkie.

"Roger that."

The area surrounding the Hadley District in downtown Starling was all but deserted at that moment, most of the businesses having closed when trouble began. The empty streets were a blessing for Joshua Michaels. He navigated his unmarked car down the middle of the street, ever vigilant for the masked men terrorizing civilians, and those civilians trying to get away from those terrorizing them. He wasn't alone in his after dark race across town. He was in the lead of a half-dozen patrol cars and one riot vehicle. Sirens were howling like a pack of wolves and the swirling red lights looked like demons dancing as they swept over the sea of buildings they passed.

He screeched around a corner, hitting the on-ramp of the highway and weaving in and around the cars that had been abandoned. A handful of cars were on fire up ahead, blocking the intersection and belching great big plumes of black smoke high up into the sky. Six masked men appeared from out of the smoke, and opened fire with the automatic rifles they'd obtained from only god knew where. Michaels' jaw clenched, and he was half tempted to romp down on the gas pedal and barrel his way through their little blockade. Reality quickly set in, however, and he forced himself to slam on the brakes. Bullets pinged and slammed into the car's tires, flattening them, blasted off the side mirrors and shattered the front and back glass.

Michaels and his partner, a twenty year police vet named Donovan quickly exited the vehicle and scurried behind the other police vehicles for protection. They were ready for whatever it was that the masked men had in store for them. Anarchy and violence were the Devil's calling card. Nothing these men did at this point was going to shock the police officers. They were joined by six fully rigged riot officers, and a handful of uniformed officers. All of them wore the sane grim, set expressions upon their faces. It was just another night to them. There was some vermin needing putting down, citizens to protect, a city to save.

The only question was: how?

"I want everyone to listen up," Michaels said in a cool, calm voice. "Mathers, take a handful of men and try to get on the other side of the highway. Fletcher, you and Sorenson go right with the rest. I want the rest of you on me. We'll try and box the bastards in."

"Sir?" Fletcher asked.

"What is it, Officer?"

"How do we stop the sons of bitches? Lance said they are damn near indestructible."

"He said damn near indestructible," Michaels repeated with a slight smile. "Not that they cannot be stopped."

"So what do we do, sir?"

"We use whatever we have to in order to put these men down for the count," was his advice. "Grenades, head shots, you do whatever you have to in order to stop these men. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," they all said.

A Starling City bus pulled off an exit ramp and stopped at the light which directed the flow of traffic between Tambien Road and Lakeshore Drive. It's the same damn thing every day, Ricky thought with a despondent sigh. Get up at three, be at work by five, spend six and a half hours behind this wheel, get six hours off in the afternoon, and then spend another five and a half hours behind this wheel. He'd been driving the same bus route, six days of the week for forty-eight weeks out of the year for the past twenty-three years. He saw the same group of faces, the same set of destinations, heard the same bits of conversations.

Only the night of the massive earthquake that had leveled a good portion of the Glades was the one break he'd had in the monotony of his life. Even then, he wasn't in the city at the time to appreciate the break in his normal routine. Nope, he'd been down in Tampa, visiting his daughter Elsa and her new bozo of a boyfriend. Ricky saw the light turn green and turned onto Lakeshore. He stopped midway through the turn. His way back to the yard was blocked off by a line of vehicles which had been abandoned. Two police vehicles sat in the middle of the street, their lights flashing and casting off an ominous warning. What in the frick is going on here? he wondered as he pulled the bus to a stop.

Mikaela Ryan looked over to where her girlfriend slept in the passenger seat, unfazed by the detour and added stress. Nothing much could pull Olivia from slumber land at that moment. Her flight to Australia had been a thirty-three hour experience from hell. Olivia could never catch a break with either Qantas or her job at Starling Federal. Her first flight out of Sydney had left two hours early - and without half her passengers onboard.

The airline had professed to not know what had happened, which was a big, fat lie, of course. They knew why that airline took off. The lyin' ass bastards had told them too. It was all a marketing ploy, another cheap way of scamming more money out of exhausted and frustrated travelers. Mikaela padded her long fingers on the steering wheel as Counting Stars played on the radio. Eyes the color of smoke watched as a Starling City bus came to a stop in the middle of the intersection.

"What the hell is this loser doing..." she mused aloud. "Is he drunk or somethin'?"

There was a tingle at the base of Mikaela's spine that told her something wasn't right. She found herself getting that same antsy feeling she'd gotten right before some joker had turned Gotham into a fiery war zone a year before. She knew that she was being paranoid, but dammit, crazy shit tended to happen everywhere in this country on a daily basis.

"Goddamn it..." she mumbled as her fingers clenched and in clenched upon the wheel. "We shoulda just stayed in Gotham, Liv. Least we'd know just what to expect in that rat hole of a city."

She reached for the lighter in her cup holder and ended up fumbling it. She cursed when it landed beneath the brake pedal. She scooted it out with her right foot and leaned over to retrieve it. When she came up, she saw a dark haired woman standing at the corner, her figure exquisitely displayed in a latex bodysuit, her face covered by some type of dominatrix mask. For a moment Mikaela wondered if she was dreaming. Then she spotted the husky figure in a mask standing on top of a car, an RPG held up against his shoulder.

"What the hell?" She managed to yell less than a second before the RPG screamed through the front windshield of the bus. The bus exploded in a great big ball of fire, bringing Olivia out of her coma with a gurgled gasp.

"What the...?!" she shrieked. She saw the destruction laid out in front of the car and clutched at Mikaela's arm. "Mikaela!" she squawked. "Get us outta here!"

She didn't have to ask Mikaela twice. She tossed the car into reverse and tramped down on the gas pedal. The little Honda sputtered and the worn tires protested as they tried to find purchase in the asphalt. Finally, the car began to inch its way backwards.

She didn't move fast enough.

The bus burst into flames, completely blocking both sides of the street and blocking off the convoy from using the side access that had been setup just for their use. The driver of the other SWAT vehicle, unable to swerve and avoid the bus could do nothing but scream as he plowed head first into the burning vehicle. He was knocked unconscious upon impact. The van exploded less than a minute later, flames doing a macabre dance with the thick plumes of smoke as they twirled in the velvet sky.

In the cab of the second SWAT van, the driver was busily swerving in order to miss the fiery mess in front of him and listening as a voice crackled through the radio: "All units are advised. There's an obstruction at Tambien and Lakeshore. All remaining units should double back and take the Industrial exit."

"The Industrial exit?" Simon Peters snarled at the radio. "Are they freaking kidding me? We'll be lambs led to slaughter down there!"

"Well, if ya got any better suggestions, tell them to Dispatch!" His partner screeched.

"I would if I had anything to suggest!" he bleated as the van rocked up onto two wheels. The other police vehicles barreled after them down 2nd Street. They swerved around a corner in order to take the nearest on-ramp when a semi-truck without its trailer came screeching from out of nowhere. It slammed into the rear vehicles, shoving them out of its way before chomping asphalt in its quest to overtake them.

"Where'd the hell this ass-clown come from!?" Billy Anderson shouted as the semi-truck of Death came roaring up behind him like a bat outta hell. He felt a bump, tried to keep the van driving straight. He knew he was next on the list of intended victims. Already the body count for these masked lunatics was in the double digits.

"Shit!" Billy screamed when slammed into the van's back bumper yet again, propelling it forward before ramming it straight into the side of the Starling Trust Corporation.

When Sebastian Blood chose to betray Slade Wilson, it was only with the intention of seeing Starling spared the catastrophic fate that awaited her. He knew Heckle and Jeckle had alerted Slade to his leaving. He knew Slade Wilson was aware that it had been him who'd taken the S.T.A.R. lab case that contained the cure to the Mirakuru serum. What he did not know, what he'd not counted upon was Wilson dispatching Isabel Rochev with the order to bring back the cure, and take care of him. She'd show up five minutes after he'd given Oliver Queen the case. The last two things Sebastian found himself thinking as he slowly faded into that empty black haze was that he had loved his city and that her fate was now in the hands of two forces who wanted to stop Slade Wilson for completely different reasons.

Somewhere out over the ocean, a military drone was cruising at about a hundred and twenty-five miles per hour. Its set destination was an already beleaguered city that wasn't aware that the real threat wasn't coming from the men in masks who were terrorizing them, but from the government organization that was willing to sacrifice them in order to stop this infection from spreading to the rest of the world. It was an unthinkable act contrived by a woman who saw the loss of thousands as an acceptable means to a justifiable end.

Slade Wilson could do little more than smile as he stood at the window and looked out over the burning city. He was like Caesar conquering Germania. By dawn this city would be nothing but one huge cesspool of twisted metal and burnings bits of debris. Before he left, however, he would exact the last bit of his vengeance. First, he'd take away the woman that the kid loved the most. And then, after Oliver Queen had discovered the true meaning of despair, he'd take his life.

"I have fulfilled my promise," he said to the woman he knew was standing behind him. "I have punished the man responsible for your death."

"Not yet," Shado whispered in his ear. "Only when Oliver is dead at your feet will my death truly be avenged."

"Soon," he promised her in a dark purr. "He will be dead soon."