AN: I'm breaking up episode three, Lone Gunman, into two parts.

MarvelMatt: There's going to be a lot of changes to the Arrowverse in this story. In terms of Ward 'stepping into the light as a member of a wealthy family under his real name', I can't answer that yet. However, this chapter does offer insight on Ward's family in this AU.

Highlander348: You have to keep reading as I can't answer that right now. This AU is only on episode three of Arrow, so there's still time for a lot of things to happen.

Shadow: Thank you!

KathPetrovaDiary: Thank you so much for the kind review! I'm so glad you enjoy the character portrayal and fight scenes!

"G-Grant?" mumbled Laurel, backing up slightly.

She couldn't believe her eyes. The man in front of her looked exhausted with creases in his forehead and dark-rimmed bloodshot eyes. His demeanor seemed different too. He stood straighter and with more authority than during their childhood. Then again, when they were younger, he was usually beaten and starved for days at a time.

Laurel had tried, with her dad's help, to get the police force involved. But it was a little girl's word against that of a wealthy and influential family. Grant's family problems were one of the main reasons she had become a lawyer. The truth needed to get out somehow, and if no one else was going to do it, it would have to be her.

The Grant Ward in front of her, despite his new appearance, was still her friend.

Just like the Tommy Merlyn next to her, despite his new name and family, was Thomas Ward.

"Grant?" muttered Tommy, eyes widening.

She watched as Grant turned toward the other man, scrutinizing him.

Any second now.

Grant's eyes flashed with recognition.

"Thomas?"

The three of them entered Laurel's apartment, Tommy and Laurel taking the couch while Grant chose to sit in a chair.

He stared disbelievingly at his younger brother.

Thomas had really grown into his own. His hair was a darker brown now and he seemed rather easygoing with a sense of wealth about him. The black suit he had worn to Oliver's speech was in pristine condition and he seemed to fit the mold of his new lifestyle well.

However, he was not sure how his brother would react to his presence. When they had last spoken, Thomas had called him saying that Christian had beaten him severely, which resulted in Grant driving all the way back home and burning their house down.

Still, he hoped for a positive outcome to this conversation. Throughout their childhood, even though Christian would sometimes have Grant beat Tommy, the youngest Ward always seemed to care for Grant. When they visited Gramsy, Tommy always hung around him. He was hoping that their connection, no matter how fucked up it was, would be enough for his little stunt to be forgiven.

"So…Merlyn, huh?" questioned Grant, raising an eyebrow.

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh-"

"If you're adopted, did something happen to our parents?" he asked, curious.

Something must have. Otherwise, they would still have complete control over his life. And why haven't I seen them on the news since I've been back? They were pretty affluent business-people.

Tommy cleared his throat, looking at him skeptically. "You mean…you don't know?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Know what?"

He hadn't kept tabs on his family since joining S.H.I.E.L.D. because he had been too busy with training and eventually Specialist missions. Also, he had specifically asked to not be informed of anything regarding his family.

"Well…uh…Laurel, do you want to tell him?"

The brunette shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze falling nervously to the floor. "When I, uh, became a lawyer…I made it my personal goal to take your parents down. Eventually, I gathered enough evidence to expose them for cruelty and wrongdoings. Last I heard, Christian reformed and is currently living in California with his girlfriend."

"And my parents?"

"Dead," said Tommy, picking up where Laurel left off. "Dad was scheduled to make an appearance at a court hearing. When he got out of the car, he got double tapped through the heart. Shortly after, mom killed herself in prison."

Grant nodded, taking in the information rather easily. He couldn't say he felt too bad for his parents. He had always struggled in the emotional department and he really found it difficult to feel sorry for childhood tormentors.

His younger brother continued after several moments of silence. "Malcolm Merlyn, a friend of Oliver's mom, decided to adopt me when I was eighteen. He said I was like the son he'd always wanted, no matter what age I was. He's been treating me pretty well ever since."

"Good, that's good. We deserve to be happy."

And wasn't that the truth. He really couldn't be happier for his brother. As long as this Malcolm person continued to treat Tommy well, Grant would be forever grateful to him.

He turned toward Laurel. "And Laurel…thank you for bringing my parents to justice."

Laurel wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't that reaction. He didn't seem to care that his parents were gone. In fact, he seemed rather…content? "That's it? A thank you? You aren't mad or anything?"

Grant's gaze hardened as he looked at her. She found herself feeling unnerved at the intensity of his glare.

Maybe this wasn't the same Grant Ward she remembered.

"They won't be missed."

Shivers ran down her spine.

A few days after his meeting with Tommy and Laurel, Grant found himself shirtless in the Foundry.

He pulled himself up on the pull up bar, the metal resting against his hips as he flipped his elbows and reverse-dipped, completing his fifteenth muscle up.

Since Oliver was out, Grant had deemed this a time of relaxation, which left him to his own thoughts.

Sixteen, he mentally counted.

The team was no doubt looking for him right now, although he could no longer estimate how far they had progressed in their search.

Nineteen.

Skye was probably fucking around with Rogers, something that he tried desperately to convince himself didn't bother him.

Twenty-one.

Tommy and Laurel had both given him their numbers so they could reconnect. He was excited to catch up with them after such a long time.

Twenty-four.

Sara was…well, he had no idea where she was or how she was doing. He hadn't heard from her in roughly a week and a half, which frustrated him immensely. Where could she have gone? What was so important that she had merely left him with a note and disappeared? He felt like she should have at least told him where she was going. His thinking process was fucked up at best. As a result, he tended to think of the scenario where she hadn't told him because she didn't care enough.

Twenty-seven.

At that moment, Oliver stumbled into the Foundry, dropping his bow in the process.

"Oliver?"

He jumped down from the bar, rushing forward to help his friend.

"Bullet grazed me," muttered his friend, eyes losing focus. "Poison."

Shit. He hoisted Oliver onto the operating table and forced him into a sitting position. Opening the medicine cabinet, he pulled out a red herb that Oliver had told him to use in situations like this. After grinding it, he brought the bowl to his friend and forced him to swallow it. Afterwards, Grant shoved a water bottle into Oliver's hands, who eagerly took several sips.

"What…the fuck happened?" breathed Grant, leaning back once he saw Oliver's eyes refocus.

His fellow archer coughed violently before responding, "I went after James Holder. He's on my father's list. His, uh, his corporation puts defective smoke detectors in low-income housing in the Glades. I took out his security detail. I had him cornered but I wasn't the only one after him. There was a sniper. Holder got a double tap through the heart and a bullet grazed the skin on my shoulder."

Before Grant could answer, Oliver's phone went off. Reaching across the table, his friend grabbed it, glancing at the screen.

"It's my mom. She wants me to come home. Something big happened."

Oliver grabbed a spare white shirt and cargo shorts, moving into the corner to change.

"So that's it? You literally just got shot by a poison-laced bullet and you're just going to go home like nothing happened?"

The man in question exited the lair without another word.

"Guess so," sighed Grant.

"What happened?" asked Oliver, entering the living room.

Several police officers surrounded the couch, where a nonchalant Thea sat. This can't be good.

John Diggle scratched his chin, turning to face his boss. "The cops brought Thea home. She and some of her friends broke into a store, tried on some dresses last night. Lit up the breathalyzer like a Christmas tree."

He sighed, not knowing what else to do. Thea was turning into him when he was her age, which was the worst possible thing she could do. Based on his drunken altercations, including the time he punched a reporter in the face and threw the camera at a wall, he could safely say that he was not the best role model.

"So…how was your evening, sir?" asked Diggle.

Oliver cleared his throat, glancing at the ground. "You mean after I said I had to go to the bathroom at dinner and never came back?"

His bodyguard nodded, staring him in the eyes. "I guess from now on I'll be watching you pee."

He raised an alarmed eyebrow. Diggle wouldn't seriously…

The man's lips curled upward slightly, which caused Oliver to breathe a sigh of relief.

He refocused his attention on his sister when the officers left and an argument broke out.

"Last time it was public intoxication. This time breaking and entering," stated Moira, unamused. "My, how we are moving up in the criminal world."

"You know," smiled Thea, "when you pay off the store owner, you should check out the merchandise. They got some pretty killer outfits."
So that's how his sister was going to play it. Use the sassy routine, act like you don't care, and piss mom off.

"Thea, go get ready for school."

"Uh, you know, I was thinking of taking a sick day."

Moira rolled her eyes. "Fine, then get some sleep."

Thea smiled, folding her arms and walking out of the room.

"You look like crap," she commented as she walked by him.

He breathed deeply, trying to keep his emotions in check as he walked toward their mother. "You're letting her play hooky?" he asked in frustration.

"When your sister gets like this, it's best to give her space."

Yeah, bullshit. Why don't you start acting like a real parent and teach your children to behave properly.

"She's testing you."

"Yes," she said, matter-of-factly. "Who'd she learn that from?"

"Mom," he all but growled, "when I was her age, you and dad let me get away with murder. Looking back, I could have used less space and more parenting."

"It doesn't make sense," mumbled Quentin, overlooking the site of Holder's shooting.

His African-American partner, Lucas Hilton, grunted. "Holder fits the profile. Wealthy dirtbag. Red meat for the hoods. And we recovered at least one arrow."

"Yeah, only this time the cause of death is a double tap through the heart and our perps don't use firearms."

"Maybe they've finally figured out there's easier ways to kill people than with a bow and arrow. It's like you said, the guys are whackjobs."

"Grant, check this out," said Oliver from where he was typing away on the desktop computer.

Exhaling, he jumped down from the salmon ladder and made his way over to his friend.

"What's up?"

"The bullet," said Oliver, tapping on the screen, which displayed a 3D model of the bullet as well as several lines of information. "It was laced with curare."

He frowned. "Sounds deadly."

Oliver nodded, leaning back in his chair. "And extremely rare. It's the killer's unique MO. He's killed all over the world. Chicago, Markovia, Corto Maltese, and…Starling City." He frowned.

"What's with the frowny face?"

Oliver drummed his fingers on the desk, biting his lip. "Because years ago, this man, Interpol calls him Deadshot, killed Christian Ward Senior, your father. Double tap through the heart, just like James Holder. And the bullet was laced with the same poison."

"Finally," muttered Clint, opening the door to Natasha's safehouse with his shoulder, several suitcases in tow.

The safehouse was located in the Castlefall district, an area near the Glades. Natasha had picked this location because it was far enough away to avoid criminal activity but close enough to the area in case she needed to eavesdrop and gain intel.

Clint was the lucky one who got to carry in the suitcases. Which, when dealing with Natasha, meant he also got to unpack.

"I'm going to go unload this shit," he grumbled. "Tasha, you know what to do?"

His redheaded partner smirked, taking a laptop out of its case. "Start searching for any leads on the vigilante or vigilantes, starting with patterns between the previous targets. I'm on it. Pepper, why don't you follow along and see if you can catch anything I might miss."

The strawberry blonde nodded, joining Natasha at the table.

"So, what do you think? Great spot for a nightclub or what?" asked Oliver, pulling open the doors to the Queen Industrial warehouse.

To conceal his base and avoid suspicion, he planned on creating and running a nightclub. Because what better job is there for the one and only Oliver Queen?

"Sweet," said Tommy, spinning around to examine the warehouse. "Though I got to tell you, man, if you're thinking about calling it Queens, I don't think you're gonna get the clientele that you were hoping for."

"Private office," he said, pointing to the corner of the room where his lair was.

Tommy hit him playfully on the shoulder. "For the private one-on-one meetings, I would imagine."

Grinning, he decided to play along. "Hopefully the occasional two-on-one meeting."

Tommy laughed before questioning, "Man, are you sure you want to do this? It's not like you really have any experience in running a, well, running anything."

Oliver focused his attention on his friend, sending him a small glare.

"How about tomorrow night the two of us, we go and scope out the competition. There's a new club opening downtown. It's called Poison. Max Fuller owns it."

He blinked rapidly, recognizing the name. "Max Fuller?"

"Mhm."

"I slept with his fiancée."

"Yeah, before the wedding."

"It was at the rehearsal dinner."

"Which...is technically before the wedding, right?" Tommy's phone rang. "Besides, who stays mad at a castaway?" He answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" A minute later, he hung up. "Ah, dammit, I got to roll. Anyway, I'll see you later, man."

After Tommy exited the building, Oliver turned to Mr. Diggle.

"So, what do you think?"

Diggle cleared his throat. "Well, I'm here to provide security, sir, not a commentary."

"Oh, come on, Digg," he groaned, "do me a favor. Speak freely, please."

"Well, this is the Glades, right? Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet."

Actually, my only friends currently are Tommy and my vigilante partner.

"I am Oliver Queen. People would stand in line for three hours if I opened a club," he smiled, trying to lighten the tone.

Digg wasn't amused. "And no one who actually lives in the Glades would see a penny of those cover charges."

Oliver frowned. "So we make it a successful business. We gentrify the neighborhood."

"Ah, I was wondering when we would get to that." At Oliver's questioning glance, Diggle continued. "The white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised."

Shit, is he onto me? But how could he know? No…no, he doesn't know anything. I'm sure of it.

He smiled confidently. "You don't think very much of me, do you?"

"No, actually, I have a very high regard for how…perceptive you are," said Diggle. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.

The nightclub will conceal my base underneath and provide an alibi for where I spend my nights.

"Hey. Do you have the depos on the Jergens case?" asked Joanna, approaching Laurel's desk.

Hurriedly, she exited out of the article she was reading about Oliver. Standing up, she started looking through her files. When she turned around, she saw her friend's disapproving glare. "I was just searching the net."

"Really?" asked Joanna, raising an eyebrow.

"Joanna," groaned Laurel, "I'm over him. But you probably don't believe me."

"Well, I would have if I wouldn't have just caught you trolling for articles on him!"

"I wasn't trolling!"

"I don't want to have to be the one to remind you that he cheated on you, Laurel. With your sister."

She didn't need a reminder from anyone about that. She thought about it every single day. The heartbreak had almost been too much to bear when she had learned that Sara was on the boat with Oliver. Her boyfriend had been declared missing and then hours later Moira had come by to say that Sara had apparently snuck on the boat with him. Her emotions had been so mixed. How could she hate her sister when she was dead? How could she hate Oliver when he was dead as well? But now Oliver was alive and she didn't know how to handle it. She didn't know how Grant was handling it either. As well as he had kept it hidden, Laurel had always known that Grant loved Sara.

"I appreciate your self-control," mumbled Laurel.

"You're stuck in the past. It is time to move on. It is past time."

Laurel glanced at her friend. "I've been busy. I work a lot."

"Okay," said Joanna, smiling. "That's got to stop. So, we are going out tonight. And…and we are going to have some shots and we are going to dance with men that we don't know and we are going to stay out way too late." She glanced down at the pile of folders on Laurel's desk, pulling one out. "Ah! Jergens depos."

"I really don't think I can go out tonight."

Her friend winked. "It is adorable that you actually think I'm giving you a choice."

"Thea," called Moira, entering her daughter's room. "I want you to come home right after school."

Thea smiled. "Oh, can't. Margot and I are going to go to the mall."

"What," said Moira, a fake smile plastered on her face, "more shopping? Tell Margot you'll have to cancel. You're grounded for two weeks."

The younger woman looked incredulous. "Grounded? I've never been grounded."

"Well, you've never committed larceny before."

"Um, since when do you care?"

Moira felt hurt by that. Maybe Oliver does have a point. "I've always cared. I'm your mother."

"Look, we've had a good thing going on the last five years. Why mess with that now?"

No, the 'thing' we've had going on was pretending we weren't a family, but we are.

"No, we are paying off store owners to keep your record clean. So clearly, it hasn't been working."

"And…you're going to teach me?" She smirked. "It's Oliver, isn't it? His judgmental hypocrisy is rubbing off on you."

"No, I don't need Oliver to teach me how to parent you. You'll be home by four o' clock."

"Or what?" asked Thea, lifting her backpack off the floor. "You're going to call the cops on me? Tell them I say hi."

She walked out of the room, leaving an upset Moira behind.

"This is the area the sniper was positioned in," said Oliver, glancing at the buildings around them.

Grant nodded wordlessly.

"Hey," whispered Oliver, nudging his friend. "You okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…this guy killed my dad. I hated the bastard, but...I don't know. I guess I'm just anxious is all."

He didn't really care that his father had been killed, as cruel as it sounded. But what worried him was this Deadshot. In terms of security, the Wards were second only to the Queens. If this man had managed to kill his father, then they needed to be cautious.

"Hey," said his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine. We'll take this son of a bitch down, just like we took down Hunt and Somers. Now come on, I'll race you to the top."

"You're on."

They sprinted forward, using a low window sill to propel themselves upward before grasping onto a metal pipe. Pulling themselves up, they jumped upward and grabbed onto two separate vertical pipelines. Simultaneously, they vaulted upward, grabbing hold of another window sill.

"I see something," informed Grant, spotting an object embedded in the wall.

Oliver handed him a pair of pliers. Balancing himself in the window frame, Grant reached to his right, clasping the pliers around the object. Ripping it out of the wall, he examined it.

"Looks like part of one of our killer's bullets."

"Got ballistics back on the Holder murder," notified Lucas, reading from a report.

Quentin set down the photographs of the crime scene, turning his attention to his partner.

"They pulled two 7.62 millimeter bullets out of him," he continued. "According to the stippling and size of the entry wound, they estimate the shots were fired from approximately a hundred yards away."

Quentin laughed. No way that was one of the hoods. "A hundred yards? What, so one of the hoods shoots him from another building, goes over to his place, he takes out his security, and then fires off a few arrows?"

Lucas ignored his small rant. "And, according to his tox screen, his blood contained high concentrations of strychnos toxifera."

"What the hell is that?"

"Curare. It's a kind of poison."

"Oh, okay. So now we switch from arrows to sniper bullets and poison. I'm not buying it."

"We still found arrows on the scene. Solid evidence the hood was there." While his partner was talking, Quentin left his seat and moved toward the door. "Where you going?"

"I'm going to get my own evidence."

"7.62 millimeter rounds," informed Oliver, finishing the analysis of the bullet sample. "The money trail leads back to the Bratva, the Russian mob. Finally, some good luck."

"You have contacts in the Russian mob too?" asked Grant, an amused smirk on his face.

"Yep," replied Oliver with a small smile. "Let's go meet some acquaintances."

Next chapter, based on my guess, will be a decent amount longer than this. It also features the appearance of a core Arrow character that hasn't been in the story so far. Also, I think you guys will be pleased to know that an integral character will be making a return in part two of Lone Gunman.