In regards to reviews,
Highlander348: We'll have to wait and see if they become a couple, won't we? :)
Shadowwolf2734: Thanks!
DarkAssasin666: Glad you're addicted! It means I'm doing something right!
KathPetrovaDiary: Yeah, I had a feeling you'd like it. I'm so glad you like everything so far.
I hope you guys and girls enjoy this! It took me longer than I thought to write, but I loved writing this so much!
"State your business, please," requested an African-American who wore a professional-looking black suit.
"My name's Tony Masters. I'm here to see Oliver Queen."
The man nodded before opening the arching gate that led to the Queen Mansion. "Ah, Mr. Queen's been expecting you." When Grant stepped through the gateway, the man spoke again. "Before you go farther, I have to ask that you remove any weaponry that you may be carrying on your person."
Nodding, Grant unclipped his Benchmade Griptilian from the back of his jeans. Since he wasn't going into dangerous territory, he didn't need to bring his full arsenal. Still, something as simple as a pocket knife could always be useful in public scenarios.
He handed the weapon to the security guard, who pocketed it before motioning for Grant to extend his arms diagonally. He did as he was instructed and waited for the other man to finish patting him down.
The man gave a nod of satisfaction before extending his hand. "John Diggle."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Diggle."
"Likewise, Mr. Masters," said John before motioning in the direction of the mansion. "Follow me."
Stepping into a comfortable walking speed next to John, he spoke up. "Ex-military?"
"Yes sir, out of Kandahar. I'm retired. Been in the private sector for a little more than four years. Mrs. Queen recently hired me to protect Oliver."
He withheld a snort. Even if Oliver needed protection, there was no way Mr. Diggle could keep the billionaire in his sights. Oliver had a knack for sneaking off and doing things he wasn't supposed to. Like sneaking around with Sara while he was dating Laurel. Grant tried to shake the thought from his mind. He shouldn't be so upset over that. He didn't get to control other people's lives. And he should be happier. Oliver and Sara were both back. But what if they still love each other?
Before his thoughts could go any farther, Diggle opened the door and Grant stepped into the expansive entryway. His eyes caught sight of the small, round table in the middle of the room. Examining the pictures, he saw ones of Oliver, Moira, Laurel, and a teenaged girl who looked vaguely familiar. Her eyes and hair, which fell slightly past her shoulders, were a dark brown. His eyes narrowed when he inspected her facial structure, especially her jawline. The features looked very similar to…his own?
At that moment, Oliver descended the staircase in a long-sleeved green t-shirt and blue jeans. His childhood friend gave a small smile. "Thank you, Digg."
Diggle nodded before exiting the house, making his way back to the front gate.
Oliver cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So, uh, this is kind of awkward."
Grant let out a small laugh, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Yeah…this is. Did you know that Sara was…alive?" he asked tentatively.
His friend glanced at the ground before meeting Grant's gaze. "No, I thought she was dead."
He couldn't detect that his friend was lying, so he nodded in acceptance. It was uncomfortable being so close to Oliver. They used to be such good friends at some point. But, even though he had no right, he still felt betrayed by his friend. Oliver had been sleeping around with Sara since they were fifteen, but it still bothered him.
"So," he lowered his voice, "vigilante, huh?"
Oliver nodded, motioning toward the mansion's large backyard. "I have to show you something."
After successfully avoiding Mr. Diggle and leaving the mansion, Grant found himself at an abandoned warehouse owned by Queen Industries. He scaled the tall, metal gate alongside Oliver, landing gracefully on his feet. Pulling open the door, he followed his blonde friend inside. The place was stripped clean. He didn't get what was so important until Oliver pressed a button on a tiny remote. A section of the floor in the back corner slid open, revealing the dark outline of a staircase. They descended.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Oliver pulled a switch, illuminating the room. Rows of regular and trick arrows lined desks and shelves. In the center of the room was a large metal desk with a wide computer monitor atop it. A salmon ladder and several other pull up bars were in one corner of the room with mats and training dummies in another.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath.
"Bet you don't have anything like this," smirked Oliver.
"No, nothing like this. I keep my shit underneath my bed."
"Move your gear here as soon as you can. In the meantime, we have other issues," said Oliver, his voice turning serious.
Grant raised an eyebrow. "We?" Was his friend seriously suggesting they work together? Then again, he should probably take this as an opportunity. He wanted to help the city but he had no idea what to do. He had stumbled upon the article involving Adam Hunt by accident.
"Yes, we. His name is Martin Somers. He works closely with the Chinese Triad and runs Starling City's port. Laurel is attempting to have him prosecuted for the murder of Victor Nocenti." Oliver handed him a small, brown notebook. "He's also on my father's list."
"Your father's list?" he questioned, flipping through the thick book.
"I found that on his corpse after he died." Grant could tell that wasn't the whole truth, but he stayed silent. "It's a list of names of corrupt or dangerous people who have wronged or endangered this city. It's my job to bring them crumbling down."
"Wait…I know some of these."
"You do?" asked Oliver, his eyebrows scrunching.
Grant nodded. "Yeah. Frank Castle, Carl Creel…some of these names are on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list."
"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Sighing, he realized that he hadn't told his childhood friend about the organization he used to work for. "You know when my parents had me moved to a Juvenile Detention Center in Massachusetts?"
Oliver snorted. "How could I forget?"
"Well, a member of a government organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D. approached me while I was incarcerated. They revealed that Christian was petitioning to have me tried as an adult and gave me an offer. I could spend the next several years of my life rotting in prison or they could release me in exchange for me becoming an agent. I was trained by the best of the best to protect people."
"So…why'd you leave?"
Grant sent a glare in Oliver's direction. "Not now. Back to Somers."
After several seconds of hesitation, Oliver nodded in acceptance. "The city's police and the D.A. can't stop him or won't. Laurel thinks she's the only one willing to bring him to justice. She's wrong." Opening a wooden box with Chinese inscriptions, Oliver pulled out his bow. "Let's get moving."
Grant watched from the rafters above, remaining perfectly still as the man he guessed was Martin Somers entered the building flanked by two guards. Somers was the epitome of a shady businessman. His posture was completely rigid as he stood at maximum height, his green eyes narrowed and threatening. He even had the whole creepy-looking beard thing going for him. He turned to the man to his left.
"You, listen up. The longer this goes on, the more likely the media is gonna crucify me. You shut this trial down, do you understand me?"
That was Grant's cue. He fired an arrow at the light switch, causing the panel to spark. The room was engulfed in darkness.
"What the hell?" shouted Somers.
He smirked to himself. Somers might not have been able to see, but the dark was Grant's friend. Firing two arrows in quick succession, he watched the bodyguards hit the ground with a dull thud. When the businessman turned on a flashlight, Grant almost felt bad for the idiot.
Somers didn't see Oliver's hammer fist until it was too late.
He observed from afar as Oliver stood in front of their upside-down target, who was just waking up.
This should be entertaining.
"Martin Somers," growled Oliver, drawing an arrow, "you have failed this city!"
"No! No, no, no, no!" cried Somers, squirming in a desperate attempt to escape.
Oliver released the arrow, which whizzed past his victim's head.
"You're gonna testify in that trial. You're gonna confess to having Victor Nocenti killed!"
"No! No!"
"There won't be a second warning!"
The next arrow grazed the flesh of Somers' cheek, splitting the skin as crimson blood trickled out of the wound. The man covered his eyes and cried out in pain.
When he reopened them, he was alone on the docks.
Oliver grinned as he entered the Queen Mansion. The night had gone rather successfully, if he did say so himself. Grant seemed to be in on the plan to make Starling a better city. Sara was alive, something that still came as a shock to him. Where the hell is she anyway? She hadn't made contact with him since the night on the rooftop. He was pretty sure she hadn't communicated with Grant either. Knowing her, her family was still under the impression that she had died five years ago. Which, of course, meant that Quentin Lance was likely to hate him for the foreseeable future.
There was so much about both Grant and Sara that he didn't know. And, based on his experiences throughout his five year absence, knowledge was everything. Still, he would probably have to wait for the two of them to talk instead of snooping around on his own. That could only end badly, and he didn't need to give Grant a reason to not trust him.
"I hired you to protect my son. Now, I'm not a professional bodyguard, but it seems to me that the first requirement would be managing to stay next to the man you're hired to protect."
"With all due respect, ma'am, I never had a client who didn't want my protection."
Oliver waited outside the hall, listening in on the conversation with a trace of amusement.
"I hired you. That makes me the client. Now where do you think my son is going on these chaperone-less excursions?"
"Ma'am, I truly do not know."
This would be his chance to explain his disappearances. And by 'explain', I mean lie.
He stepped into the living room. "And he truly doesn't."
"Then perhaps you'd like to share with me, you know, where it is you run off to?" asked Moira, raising an eyebrow.
"I've been alone for five years," he started.
His mom's face morphed into one of pain. "I know that, Oliver."
He winced inwardly. He hated having to lie to people he cared about, especially when his made-up explanation brought his mother pain. Still, he started it. He had to finish. "Mom…alone."
"I see," she said. By her tone, he was pretty sure she meant 'of course he's sneaking around with girls'.
He smiled. "I promise to introduce her if it ever gets to the, uh, exchanging first names stage."
One glance at Diggle showed the man's obvious disapproval of his behavior.
"No, I'd rather you promise to take Mr. Diggle with you on your next rendezvous. It's not safe, you've already been abducted once. There is a maniac out there, hunting the wealthy."
Actually, there's three maniacs out there. And I'm one of them.
"That maniac saved my life."
Moira glared at him. "This isn't a game." She paused momentarily before speaking again. "I lost you once," she said in a voice wracked with emotion. "And I am not going through that again."
Finally, he decided to end the debate. "Okay. Digg's my guy."
His mom gave a loud sigh of relief. "Thank you," she huffed, walking out of the room.
Oliver turned his attention to Diggle. "Sorry to give you so much grief."
Diggle scratched his chin, maneuvering around the furniture to talk to him face to face. "I served three tours in Afghanistan, Mr. Queen. You don't even come close to my definition of grief. But, I'll tell you what. You ditch me one more time, no one will have to fire me."
He nodded in acceptance, exiting the room and running into his little sister. "Where you going?"
Thea turned to look at him, an annoyed expression on her face. "Uh, somewhere loud and smoky. And don't bother trying to pickpocket my stash this time, because I'm gonna go get drunk instead."
In the five years that he had been gone, his sister had become a drinker and started doing drugs. And he had no idea if his mom knew and didn't care, or if she had no idea whatsoever. Oliver was never a good brother to begin with, so he had no idea what the hell to do in this situation. He stepped forward. "Thea, do you think this is what Dad would want for you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dead people don't want anything. It's one of the benefits of being dead."
That's a lie. I wanted so, so much on that island. There were so many things I wanted and so many things I wished I hadn't done. "I was dead. And I wanted a lot."
"Except for your family," she practically snarled. "You've been home a week and all you do is avoid mom, ignore Walter, and judge me. Don't wait up." She stormed out of the house before he could make a move to stop her.
"Well, I owe you an apology, Mr. Somers," said a sarcastic Quentin Lance. "We come all the way down to your docks, and it turns out, you don't need the police after all."
Martin Somers leaned back in his chair, smiling. "Which is exactly what I've been saying."
Quentin scoffed. "Yeah. So I guess that 9-1-1 call we got last night from your stevedore, saying that you were getting attacked by a guy in a green hood and a bow and arrow, was a practical joke?"
"These guys like to fool around."
"Yeah. Well, you know, I'd be very much inclined to believe an honest, upstanding businessman like yourself, except…one of my men found this at your docks."
He pulled out a green arrow, tapping the tip with his finger. "You see, there's this vigilante running around. He thinks he's some kind of Robin Hood. He's robbing the rich, he's trying to teach them a lesson, I guess. I don't know, I don't know. But the point is, the man's a killer. And nothing, and no one, is going to stop me from bringing him down! But like you said, hmmm," He placed the arrow into a hole in Somers' desk, "clearly nothing happened here last night."
Somers made a motion to speak, but Lance cut him off. "You know what else I don't understand?" He motioned to one of his fellow officers, who handed him a black arrow. "There's an arrow with a different color. Does that mean there are two of these nutjobs running around? Why don't you tell me, huh, Mr. Somers?"
The businessman's eyes widened slightly at the information that two people attacked him. "I can assure you, Detective Lance, I have no idea what you are talking about. But isn't this a conflict of interest? After all, your daughter is suing me."
"I'm pretty good at keeping my emotions in check."
"I'm not," said Somers, rising from his seat. "You and your daughter don't want to find out what I'm capable of when I get…emotional."
Oliver rubbed his eyes, having just exited Queen Consolidated. He couldn't believe his mother and Walter wanted him to take a leadership position in the company. He had other plans, things he could not do when he was seated behind a desk all day.
He needed guidance on what to do.
"Well, we anticipate that Somers' attorney will try and paint you as blinded by grief or looking to make a buck," stated Laurel Lance, speaking to her client.
Emily Nocenti shook her head. "This isn't about the money. I just want justice for my father."
"Emily, there are a lot of people who don't want this trial to proceed. Dangerous people," reminded Joanna, Laurel's friend.
"My mother died when I was a baby, and my father has been the only family I've ever known and they slit his throat. They are going to have to kill me if they want me to give this up."
"Well," said Laurel, taking a deep breath, "let's hope it doesn't come to that."
"And it won't," said Quentin Lance, entering the room.
Laurel turned to her father. "What's going on?"
"What's going on is that the three of you are getting around-the-clock police protection. Okay?" stated Quentin. "Get used to their faces, because they're going with you everywhere you go, no arguments."
"I'm a lawyer. I live to argue."
"I'm your father. I live to keep you safe."
Joanna glanced awkwardly at Emily. "Um, Emily, let's go grab a cup of coffee, okay?"
Emily nodded, moving to follow Joanna.
"Please, go with them." Two of Lance's officers followed the women out, while the third stayed behind.
"Protective custody? I seem to recall you trying that once I discovered boys. Didn't work then either."
"This isn't a joke, Laurel. Martin Somers got attacked last night."
That was news to her. "What?"
"Yeah."
"By who?" Was it the guardian angel?
"Doesn't matter. Point is, you have whipped up a storm with these guys, and until the dust settles you'll be protected, okay? End of discussion."
"That might have worked when I was eight. But it's no gonna work anymore," said Laurel, raising her voice.
Quentin whirled on her. "End of discussion, Laurel! You're insistent on doing your job, that's great. But this is me doing mine, okay? And not just as a father, but as a cop. These people, they are more dangerous than you are willing to admit. And you've made them angry."
"Thank you for coming," said Somers.
"Anything for a friend," replied China White, a leading figure of the Chinese Triad.
"We're not friends. You smuggle drugs, I let you use my port."
"For which you're paid a lot of money," she reminded.
Somers scoffed. "I don't get paid enough to have arrows shot at me. You need to take this guy, or guys, I have no fucking idea, seriously. This is a bigger threat to your operation than Nocenti ever was."
"Except now it's Nocenti's daughter who's the problem. And unlike your friend, or friends, with the hood, we know where to find her."
"Don't be an idiot. You take out Emily Nocenti, and Laurel Lance will never let this go. She won't stop until she burns you, me, and then the entire triad to the ground."
"Then we kill Ms. Lance."
Oliver sighed, following his sister to the backyard. She had caught him with his shirt off and seen his plethora of scars, which had led to an argument between the two of them. And now she wanted to show him something.
That something turned out to be the gravestones of him and his father.
"Sometimes, when I felt, whatever, I'd come here. About a month after the funerals, mom stopped going out. Pretty soon, she stopped talking altogether. The house got so quiet, so I'd come here. To talk to you," said Thea. "I mean, stupid stuff. Like what I was doing that day, what boy I had a crush on. And then sometimes, I'd ask you, beg you, to find your way home to me."
He closed his eyes, letting her words sink in.
"Now here you are," she continued, "and the truth is, I felt closer to you when you were dead." Ouch, that hurt. "Look, I know it was hell where you were. But it was hell here too. You gotta let me in, Ollie. You gotta let someone in."
"Hi. Are you okay?" At Laurel's annoyed expression, he added, "There are two cop cars outside."
"How am I supposed to stay away from you if you won't stay away from me?"
"I-"
"What are you doing here, Ollie?"
"My sister, uh, pointed out to me that I have been distant since I got back and that it would probably be a good idea if I let somebody in."
"So you thought you'd start with the first person you pushed away."
"I did that to protect you. And then I saw you yesterday, and I realized that I hurt you."
Laurel pushed the door open, a relieved expression on her face. "Thank you," she breathed.
"Wow," said Oliver, stepping into Laurel's medium-sized apartment. "This place hasn't changed in five years."
"I haven't really had time to redecorate," she said sarcastically.
Taking a deep breath, he started his apology. "I'm a jerk. Before the island, I was a jerk, and now I'm just a damaged jerk."
She motioned toward the paper bag in his hands. "What's in the bag?"
He smiled. "I thought about many things on the island, but there was one thing that I thought about every day. I actually dreamed about it, and I promised myself that if I ever got a chance to do it again, I'd do it with you." He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a container of ice cream. "Eat ice cream."
"My mother wants me to join the company," said Oliver, leaning against the couch that Laurel was currently sitting on. At her incredulous expression, he laughed. "Yeah. Take my rightful place."
Laurel giggled. "I can't exactly picture you as master of the universe."
"You know, after five years, I have plans. I have things that I have to do." I have to save this city from itself, bring criminals to justice, and cross off every name in my father's list. "I can't do that if I'm, I don't know, attending board meetings and stockholder briefings."
"Oliver?"
"Hmm?" He glanced up at her to find a teasing expression on her face.
"You're an adult. You can say no."
He snorted. "Oh, I tried. Didn't take."
"Well, then don't tell her. Show her. Be the person that you want her to see you as. Trust me. I have plenty of experience with disapproving parents."
Oliver grinned, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips. "I have been on the receiving end of your father's disapproval."
"He blames himself more than he blames you. He thinks that, you know, maybe if he and Sara were closer, she would have told him about the boat trip and he could have stopped her from going with you."
"I am sorry," he said, and he truly meant it.
She sighed. "You apologized already."
"And it'll never be enough."
His ears perked up when he heard a footstep. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" she asked, confused.
"There's someone on the fire escape," he whispered, reaching forward and grasping a large kitchen knife.
Gently, he tugged on her arm. "Hey, come on."
At that moment, a window slid open and the door broke down, revealing several assailants. Amongst those was a Chinese woman with white hair, who launched herself at Oliver. I can't fight them like this. There'll be too much suspicion. Turning, he led Laurel through several rooms in an attempt to get away. A man stepped in their way, gun raised. Cursing, he prepared to fight in order to protect himself and Laurel.
Suddenly, the window behind their attacker shattered and an arrow pierced the man's chest. Laurel screamed in surprise at the bloody sight. Oliver looked up and sighed in relief when he saw Grant, in full Taskmaster gear, roll to his feet.
"Go!" shouted Grant, voice changer activated. "I'll hold them off."
He charged headfirst into the group of mercenaries, attempting to keep their attention of Laurel and Oliver. Within seconds, they were disabled, minus the white-haired lady. He engaged her in hand to hand. He kneed her in the stomach. She doubled over and pushed herself forward, knocking Grant backward. He hit the wall with a thud. Ducking, he dodged her knife and punched her in the ribs. She hissed and delivered an uppercut to his chest. I need to get out of this corner. Snapping her head to the side with a hook, Grant kicked his feet upward, wrapping them around her neck, and pivoted his body. They were both sent sprawling. Rolling to the left, he avoided the knife she threw in his direction.
When he looked up, she was gone.
Grant met up with Oliver in the Foundry, the latter suiting up.
"I wanted to give Martin Somers the chance to confess and face a court's justice, but he chose to go after someone we care about. It's time we end this," growled Oliver.
Grant nodded. The bastard was going to pay for going after his childhood friend. "I couldn't agree more."
"Triad bitch screwed up the hit on Lance," snarled Somers. "Now, they're gonna erase every ounce of evidence of their smuggling operation, including me." He paused, glancing toward one of his men. "Except that's not gonna happen. Tell Wallace to get the boat ready. I'm leaving tonight."
The man nodded, radioing the boatman. "Wallace? Wallace, you copy?"
"Wallace isn't here," growled a voice on the other end of the line. Somers' eyes widened in horror. "But I am."
"We need to move, now!" shouted Somers. "Move!"
"Sir, we've got six men out there."
"It's not enough!"
With the bodyguards dispatched, Grant stepped forward, arrow drawn. "Somers!"
"Oh, God, no, no, no!"
"He can't help you. I want the truth about Victor Nocenti!"
He cornered the pathetic bastard against a storage container.
"I can't! The triad…the triad will kill me."
"I'd be more concerned about me," he hissed.
"All right, all right, all right! It wasn't me that killed him. It was the triad," said Somers, panicked.
"Acting on whose instructions?" When Somers remained silent, he shouted, "Whose?"
"All right! It was mine. It was mine, okay? Nocenti said he was gonna testify against me."
The businessman glanced to the right, face contorting in fear. Quickly, Grant turned his attention away from him. The woman from earlier stood, a knife in each hand.
"Move away from him," she said in Chinese.
"Make me," he challenged in the same language.
She snarled, launching herself forward in a spinning motion. He dodged her first few attacks, but cursed when he had to bring his bow up to defend himself. Shit, she's good. He had definitely underestimated her. Their fight from earlier was in a confined space, but out in the open she proved to be a formidable opponent. Her constant barrage forced him to back up. He ducked down to avoid a spinning kick, which only resulted in her other leg making contact with his back. He grunted as he sprawled forward, hitting a metal container. She advanced, towering above him and raising her knives.
She was pulled back from behind by Oliver. When she turned around, he head-butted her. Grant scrambled to his feet just in time to deliver a kick to the stumbling woman's ribs. The three of them stood in a triangle formation, Oliver and Grant next to each other and the Chinese woman farther out.
They froze when sirens wailed in the distance. The three of them took one last look at each other before making a hasty retreat.
Grant ran across the docks, maneuvering around and above storage containers as his mind raced. The day had been hectic. Ever since he had returned from the docks the night before, he had not been able to think straight. Everything had been catching up with him and starting to sink in. He hadn't gotten any sleep and was completely drained. In fact, he had no idea how he was still standing, let alone had taken on the Chinese woman twice in one day.
"Freeze! You twitch and you're dead!" shouted Mr. Lance's familiar voice.
He turned toward the sound to see Oliver standing still as Lance advanced.
He has no idea I'm here.
"Bow down, hands up."
Oliver obeyed, lowering the bow to the ground. When Lance was a few inches away from his friend, Grant fired the arrow that contained the recording of Somers' confession at the officer's weapon. The gun clattered to the floor, giving Oliver the chance to scoop up his bow and sprint away.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Grant made his exit.
"So, please, stop asking me to be."
Laurel watched in surprise as Oliver exited the stage, nodding to her as he left. He had taken her advice in a big way, publicly showing that he absolutely would not join his family's company. Something was wrong with her friend, she knew it. As much as Oliver tried to act like the reason he wouldn't join the business was because he was irresponsible, she knew him better than he thought. It seemed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and she was determined to help him.
However, when she and Tommy turned to leave, she realized helping Oliver would have to wait.
Because in front of her stood a blonde Grant Ward, who looked like he hadn't slept at all.
"Hello, Laurel."