AN: First of all, I'd just like to say thank you to the reviews. Man, this story is fun to write.

Alkeni: Glad you're interested :)

MarvelMatt: No problem, man! Thank you for all of your help!

Highlander348: You'll have to see! Let's just say they'll be seeing each other soon.

Welcome to Starling City, read the sign as Grant passed by it.

His plan was fairly straightforward. He had enough money to get by for a decent amount of time, but he'd eventually need a job. He'd heard a small burger joint named Big Belly Burger was hiring, so he was going to look into that when the need arised. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. knew all of his aliases, he had to reinvent himself on the way to the city. He was no longer Grant Ward in every sense of the name.

His hair was a dark blonde and he'd taken to wearing black aviators, as well as a black hoodie and black gloves. He knew he might look slightly suspicious to some, but there was no way in hell he was parting with his affinity for all things black and leather.

His new name was Tony Masters, a man with several high degrees in varying subjects, as well as an ex-military background. Originally from Arizona, he had moved to Starling City to pursue a career in business.

Grant wasn't sure how that was going to work out, especially because his only idea for a job so far was a damn burger joint.

One step at a time, he told himself. Just find a place to stay right now.

One thing was for sure, he was not going to abandon the values he'd learned from S.H.I.E.L.D. Protect the innocent, whispered the voice in his head. So, that's what he was going to do. He just had no idea how yet.

He parked outside a relatively nice hotel building called Windhaven. It wasn't huge, but it had a few suite balconies on the highest floor that levelled off with the roofs of other buildings in the area. It was perfect for him.

He entered the lounge, heading straight to the desk. "Can I get a suite on the highest floor please?"

The woman behind the desk, a pretty, although rather thin, strawberry blonde, smiled sweetly at him. "It's not very cheap."

Ward smiled inwardly. If it was money she wanted, money he could give. He pulled out a decent sized wad of cash from his pocket, not enough to put a dent in his funds though. Slipping it across the counter, he said, "This should cover me for about a month, yeah?"

"Well then, hotshot," she giggled, handing him a room key. "Room 6C for Mister…?"

"Masters," replied Ward, "Tony Masters."

"Well, Mister Masters, enjoy your stay. My name's Hayley. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Hayley."

He gave her a small wave as a goodbye and ascended the stairs, clutching his duffel bag tightly. Reaching the sixth floor, he walked through the hallway, listening for the sounds of his neighbors. He heard the soft noise of off-key singing in one room and what sounded like the low volume of a movie in another. Good, the people on this floor liked to remain quiet.

Opening the door to his suite, he examined the room. A small kitchen in the right corner that he could work with, cabinets already stocked with delicacies and a few basics. A dark wood dining table with plush white chairs was off to the side of a soft, comfortable couch. The couch was flanked immediately on the right and left by two black leather reclining chairs. A coffee table was in the middle of the three pieces of furniture, in front of an already crackling fireplace. On top of the fireplace was a fifty-five inch screen television built into the wall.

Entering his bedroom, he found a king-sized bed with white duvet sheets and several pillows leaning against the headboard. Next to it was a small nightstand with a lamp on it. In the corner opposite the doors opening to the balcony was an oak desk with a computer already running.

Setting his bag down on the bed, he opened the double glass doors leading to the balcony. A small smile crept its way onto his face at the sight of not only a complete set of patio furniture, but a good-sized hot tub as well. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

When he re-entered his bedroom, he paused when his eyes caught sight of a newspaper on the desk. I must have missed this. He walked over and picked it up, flicking through it.

The answer to how he was going to protect people was right in front of his face.

And it came in the form of his childhood friend, Dinah Laurel Lance.

Laurel Lance, a lawyer from CNRI, a law firm located in the Glades, is currently pursuing criminal charges against businessman Adam Hunt.

For the first time in a week and a half, a wide grin crawled its way onto his face. Dinah Laurel Lance. Laurel Lance. Laurel. Something akin to happiness seized his heart because, fuck, he hadn't seen her since before he left for military school all those years ago. He remembered everything about his best friend. Her curly brown hair that fell to the middle of her back. Her smile that stretched her face in such a way that some kids made fun of her, but her friends loved. Her brown eyes twinkling with joy and a bubbly personality. She'd wanted to be a lawyer since they hit ten years old, and she'd done it. He wished he had been there to congratulate her.

When he flipped on the television a few minutes later, he got another surprise.

An African American reporter stood in front of Saint Dumas hospital, speaking animatedly. He read the large white letters that appeared on the screen. Billionaire playboy Oliver Queen is alive, he said to himself. His eyes widened at the name of the friend who he thought was deceased. He turned up the volume, eager to hear more.

"Oliver Queen, son of Robert and Moira Queen, was found alive after five years surviving on an unknown island in the North China Sea. Currently, he is being treated for injuries as the city prepares to welcome him home." Oh my god, he's alive! He had heard about the tragic death of his only male friend from childhood. The Queen's Gambit had been caught in a storm and reportedly sunk, leaving no survivors. But if Oliver survived, does that mean Sara- "Mr. Queen states that he is the only known survivor of the incident."

His fists clenched by his side as he stared at the screen, smile faltering. Sara was Laurel's sister, and the first person he had ever had feelings for. The platinum blonde was a sight to behold, her wavy curls falling slightly past her shoulders. Grant remembered her smile being the brightest and best thing in the room. She had never been one for education, unlike her sister. He was better friends with Laurel than he was with Sara, but that was mainly because the blonde twin had always had a thing for Oliver.

Well, now I have a few options.

He was definitely going to be checking in on his two friends, probably from afar because it would get risky if they knew he was there.

But first, let's get down to business.

If he was going to fight a war against crime, he needed a uniform.

"Grant?" called Skye, knocking on the door to his bunk.

She frowned when she received no answer, tucking her hair behind her ear. When she had woken up that morning, she had stretched and ate breakfast like always before pulling on a white t-shirt and blue leggings. Steve had offered to train her that morning, but Skye had refused, wanting to talk to Grant. So, she had been eager to make her way to the gym on-time, only to find it empty. She had waited roughly thirty minutes before giving up and going to his bunk, where she now stood. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Grant was never a second late, let alone a half hour. "Grant, you in there? You missed the party last night and I wanted to talk to you."

She sighed in defeat when she got no response. He was either in a very deep sleep, which seemed unlikely since he was always alert, ignoring her, or out at the moment.

Pepper walked by her, dressed in a gray suit, and clutching a computer to her chest. The older woman looked exhausted, a crestfallen look on her usually happy face.

"Hey, Pepps," she greeted, flashing a smile. Pepper gave her a small, seemingly forced smile that had Skye close to frowning. What's wrong with her? "Have you seen Grant?"

"Grant? Uh…no. I haven't," replied Pepper before turning around.

Skye's frown deepened. Wow, definitely upset about something. "You okay?"

"Fine," said the older woman sharply. "I need to go."

Okay, something's definitely wrong here.

She didn't find out exactly what was wrong until dinnertime that night. Everyone was in the lounge waiting for Grant. They ate dinner together four times a week and everyone was supposed to attend. There were no exceptions, unless somebody was injured. May was reclining in a chair, reading a book called Unwind or something like that. She didn't understand the older woman's interest in it. The book was about three kids who were scheduled to be unwound –which apparently meant having their body parts harvested for later use – but escaped. Disturbing, if you ask me. Coulson had a worried look on his face, eyebrows creased. Jemma, Fitz, and Bruce were talking science mumbo-jumbo. Steve sat next to her on the couch, a small smile on his face. Clint and Natasha were telling each other sexual jokes while the archer twirled a drumstick between his fingers. Pepper sat silently in the corner, her gaze locked on the floor, which Skye still found odd.

And then there was Tony, impatient as ever. "Where is he?" huffed the billionaire. "He's been keeping us waiting forever."

Finally, Clint turned his attention away from Natasha. "I'll go see if he's in his room."

Natasha stood up to follow him.

Contemplating for a split-second, she stood up as well. "I'll come with you," she told the two assassins.

They nodded.

Skye didn't miss Pepper's slightly panicked look.

"Grant Douglas Ward, open this door right now!" demanded Clint, banging his fist against the locked door.

When they got no answer again, worry began to creep its way through Skye's thoughts. He should have been back already. Where the hell was her supervising officer? JARVIS had informed them that Grant wasn't in any of his usual places around the tower, so they had figured he would be in his room.

That didn't look like the case.

"JARVIS," said Natasha, "override the lock."

The artificial intelligence took a moment before responding, "I'm sorry, Ms. Romanoff, I cannot do that."

"Why not?" asked the redhead, her calm tone slipping into one of incredulity.

"I have not been authorized to perform such an action."

"Who gave you the order?" questioned Clint.

"Mrs. Potts," answered the British A.I.

"JARVIS, open the door," commanded Tony, who entered the hallway and walked toward the room.

"But, sir, Mrs. Potts-"

"Her orders do not supersede my own," cut off the billionaire. "Now unlock the damn door."

"As you wish," responded JARVIS.

A click was heard as the code for the door was entered. Clint pulled the door open and they were met with a surprising sight.

The room was empty.

The remnants of what Skye identified as a SIM card were scattered across the floor.

All of Grant's personal possessions were gone except for one.

His level seven Specialist badge rested atop the nightstand.