This chapter was one of the longest I've ever written so I split it into two. Enjoy.
2009
Hong Kong
"We have word of one of Chien Na Wei's runners" Maseo told him from the driver's seat of the unlicensed van they were in.
"Runners?" Oliver asked.
"A loose term they use for messengers within the Triad. He carries hard, usually encrypted intel that would otherwise be compromised by ARGUS hackers if it were SIGINT" explained the agent. "Capture him and question him".
Maseo stopped the van and Oliver got out onto the bustling street. The agent explained the directions and he followed, he was used to ignoring all the telephones and technology he could be using to contact his family, those opportunities had long since passed.
When Oliver got the tail of the runner-a Chinese man dressed like a hoodlum-he started tracing his steps a discreet ten feet behind. Suddenly the triad's messenger seized up like a scared cat, peeking over his shoulder and seeing Oliver he broke into a sprint.
He chased him down whilst grabbing a short plank, when he was within arm's reach he whacked the runner's head with it and shoved him into an empty alleyway. His hand whipped out as he caught himself on a crate before he could fall but Oliver was on him and pinning him down to the ground.
Subsequently Maseo's van pulled into the alleyway and the agent got out and helped Oliver tie and haul the runner into the boot. Anyone who saw them kidnap the man didn't do anything to stop them.
Waller sighed in that conceitedly bored manner only she was capable of, and then folded her arms in front of her. She arched a brow staring down at the restrained Triad officer on the chair before her.
"Only half of the intel was on his person, use whatever means necessary for him to personally tell you the rest" she turned to Oliver and then her eyes flickered to an industrial table with a mound on it covered by a canvas. Like an engineer unboxing his set of tools she grabbed the edge of the cloth and pulled it off. He recognized his bow and quiver from the island and a set of knives he wasn't happy to see at all.
"From my experience it is best to use tools which one is most skilled and acquainted with to torture subjects."
Oliver had to stop himself from dropping his mouth wide open at how blasé she made that sentence sound. "Torture? Him?" He shook his head in protest; he did not have the stomach for what she wanted him to do. "No I can't, I'm not that kind of person. I'm not a butcher!"
She rolled her eyes as if he was a ten year old who didn't know how to tie his shoe laces. "If you want results then this is the only way. Everyone has the potential Mr. Queen; most people don't even discover they have a gift unless they've tried it themselves." She picked up an arrow and threw it like a javelin at Oliver, he caught it.
"I want an answer within the hour. Get to work" she growled and left him alone with his victim.
Oliver and the Triad messenger stared at each other, somehow even if though they were both in different boats; neither was looking forward to the events of the next hour.
The Foundry, Starling City 13:28 PM PST
"Anything on Thea by the way?" Oliver asked Felicity after a round of training with Roy.
"Well for one, she isn't in Italy, in fact nowhere in Europe." The blonde swivelled around in her chair as Oliver neared; out of habit her eyes skimmed his naked chest before answering, she cleared her throat and touched her forehead looking away from the distraction. "Ahem, well I pinged her phone to Corto Maltese. Quite the beautiful tropical paradise if you ask me, once you ignore the corruption, injustice and the totalitarian monarchy." She said grimly and then quite brightly said, "so are you going to go down there?"
Before he could answer, Felicity straightened in her seat at the newcomer who entered the Foundry.
"Hey Digg! What are you doing here?"
"Oh I was just in the neighbourhood and I wanted to drop by."
The IT tech narrowed her gaze at him, "oh you were, were you? You didn't just happen to drive all the way here to make sure we were all still in one piece?"
"Maybe a little" he admitted making a tiny gesture with his forefinger and thumb. "Anyway, I went to ARGUS to look into CADMUS for you and guess who greeted me at the front door?"
Felicity tapped her chin, "mmhm female, African-American, wears killer heels, smiles like the villain from a Disney movie?" She counted down each trait with her fingers.
"My guess is Amanda Waller".
"With her personal guard detail just a foot behind her" Digg continued. "Whatever dirt she has, she won't let anyone, not even Lyla go near it. Looks like you've stumbled upon something Waller really doesn't want anyone to find out about."
Oliver went to the work table and retrieved the arrow they found in Bludhaven and then showed it to John. "This belongs to Simon Lacroix, an ex-League archer."
"The one who was murdering all the the former CADMUS investors? Lyla mentioned it." Digg squinted at the arrow head. "There's fresh blood on this, is he back at it again?"
"Not exactly" he retracted the weapon and replaced it on the table. "It seems he has many contracts. We found this on the corpse of a Mr. Tom Ridby, former employee of La Maisonette, aka the man who planted the bomb in the restaurant Felicity and I were in."
"Best. Date. Ever" Felicity mumbled wryly though loud enough for the entire Foundry to hear.
Oliver watched as John's face overcame with clarity. "Oh my God. They're connected."
"But how, is what we're trying to figure out" said Roy.
"Queen Consolidated has never invested in CADMUS either, and who ever sent Lacroix to kill Ridby and the investors is most likely the same person" said Felicity.
"The bombing was personal Oliver, and last time I checked you weren't the CEO of anything, what do you have to do with CADMUS?" Asked Diggle.
"That's why we need ARGUS."
"I'm hacking into their systems right now but it's ARGUS' mainframe so it'll definitely take a while I'll probably take this back to the office once my lunch hour is up" announced Felicity checking her watch, already getting to work.
John leap to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Whoa, whoa, hold on" she gave him an annoyed look that he had haltered her efforts, Digg turned back to Oliver. "We're treading on thin ice here, man."
"We need to know."
"You've met Waller right?"
He crossed his arms and looked ominously at Digg. "Yes. I know her well."
"Then if she doesn't want us near this, we should back off" he argued.
"And when have we ever let what Amanda Waller wants get in our way before?" Roy added.
"He has a point" said the IT tech gesturing her index at Roy. She stood and went towards the larger touch screen dragging out case files and maps to show them. "Any of the investors that Simon could potentially assassinate have gone into hiding; I only know that because I've been tracking each of them. I hate to admit it but if I could find them, Simon could too and I don't see Amanda Waller doing anything to protect these people. If she won't, then we have too."
"What you should be focusing on is catching this Simon Lacroix" Digg tried. He understood that the soldier didn't want them to become an enemy of ARGUS the spy agency the mother of his child worked at. Even Oliver understood the risks of working for Waller, more than anyone in the Foundry, but they needed vital information and certain measures and compromises had to be made.
"We can't do that if we don't know who he's working for" he said. "Even if we capture him, they'll only hire someone else to finish his job, and the cycle repeats, we need to get them at the roots. To do that we have to take steps Digg, find CADMUS and whoever was behind them; they're the real enemy here."
"I guess I can't convince you otherwise" John relented.
Starling Penitentiary, 13:31 PM PST
"C'mon back to your cells" the prison guard hooted. Pete gave him a dirty look, he hated being treated like dirt, he betted that if he wasn't stuck in a cage and the guard wasn't wearing a baton on his hip he would've pummelled the bastard to a pulp. The hallway was busy then. His freedom depended on the blonde lawyer and the DEA; he didn't have much to get back too on the outside, he'd probably only slide back into old habits.
The area became quiet, he frowned glancing sideways, and he saw an inmate give him a scared fleeting glance and then sprint away as if he'd seen a ghost.
It was too late for him to do anything. He felt someone creep behind him, put him in bone crushing chokehold he couldn't get out of, and rasp into his ear;
"This is from Werner Zyrtle, so sorry he couldn't get you out sooner, but he has no use of you anymore".
Then there was steel on his throat and its bite was cold and red.
Iron Heights 13:32 PM PST
Nathaniel Diego followed the line of other convicts and placed his tray away. Shouting across the cafeteria took his attention. As usual he made it his job not to get involved in a scuffle of any sort.
He turned towards the door when four men dressed in prison clothes like he was looked at him in a way which he knew could only mean danger. His heart jumped into his throat, he spun but there were two more behind him closing in. One rushed at him and punched him in the stomach; he doubled over and saw that he had left a knife there. Stabs of pain flourished all over him as knives plunged into his body.
Carlos had been waiting for nearly a month for his re-trial, it depended on how well the DA Laurel Lance could barter a deal for him, but he didn't trust the DEA agent to give a shit about the case at all, neither could he trust Lance to put the effort to actually help him given the repelled looks she gave whenever they had to meet. The sun was at its peak in the sky which meant it would be lunch soon. He stood, ready for his bleak, grey cell doors to open automatically. Then he saw two unfamiliar prisoners leering outside his door, and he immediately knew what was going to happen.
"NO! NO!" He screamed rushing rearwards to his bed, but there was only grey brick all around him, nowhere to run. The latch in the centre of the door opened and gallons of liquid fuel was chucked into this cell. A match followed and then the room was ablaze in hellfire.
The Glades, 13:45 PM PST
Bill Baston walked in with the air of arrogance that a man had when he did nothing and got paid millions for it, probably reckoned he had the easiest job in the entire world, full of pride, full of shit.
"Is it done? Are all the inmates dead?" Asked the dirty agent. He's early; the prisoner's bodies aren't even cold yet and here he is to collect his reward.
"Yes. Here is your payment for keeping them in prison long enough for us to eliminate them" he gingerly placed a brown sack of hundred dollars bills onto the heavy steel table in front of him.
"Thank you sir" he picked up the enveloped, weighed it in his hand as if he could tell how much money was in it and then stuffed into his jacket pocket, if only I could dose him with Vertigo and turn that self-satisfied smirk into a cry of terror. "It was my pleasure, didn't even have to lift a finger, spent a few hours listening to a pretty lady talk is all, and I even got to reject her afterwards" said Baston smiling filthily and laughing boisterously at his own joke.
"Yes, a Ms. Laurel Lance".
"I guess this means you no longer have to pay off anyone anymore, saves you time and money you could spend re-building your empire here. But I've heard you've got competition".
He dares to question me on my own turf? He tried not to give Bill a withering look."Then your source of information is woefully inaccurate if you think there is any chance this Red Hood character could out rank me".
"I meant no offense Mr. Zyrtle" Baston said cutting his hand through the air and shrugged, "just sharing a tid bit of what the talk is on the streets. Since we already have this arrangement, it'd only seem logical for us to continue our partnership, what with Vertigo returning to the Glades. You didn't have an agent on the inside before and now you do."
He must think of himself as a genius, the fool. With a hint of sarcasm he said "your sense of strategy is astoundingly impressive Mr. Baston I'll consider your offer once I've contacted my benefactor of the current situation."
Despite his obvious disdain for the DEA agent, Bill Baston got the upper hand in the end when he chucked and said; "ah yes, in the end we've always got to answer to our superiors don't we?"
District Attorney's Office, 13:50 PM PST
The medical examiner and the Iron Heights warden calling you at the same time is never a good sign. "Hello?" Laurel chose the medical examiner first since that had to mean someone was dead.
And many were.
Several emotions passed her countenance, confusion, shock, fiery ire that wanted to make her scream and flip her table. She mumbled her understanding into the receiver, though she wasn't listening anymore, the Iron Heights warden has similar news and then Starling Penitentiary called.
"All of them?" She asked immediately.
"All of them m'am, I'm s—"
"I don't want to hear it". She slammed her phone on the desk not giving a damn if her screen broke. Werner Zyrtle won. He won, I was played and he won, Bill Baston that son of a bitch fucking won. Everything became so blatantly clear to her then.
It was Breaking News in the next ten minutes. A colleague increased the volume on the overhead television.
Seven high-profile prisoners involved with the Vertigo drug cartel were brutally murdered in the two separate prisons within a span of five minutes in what appears to be a coordinated attack. Prison guards are—
"Turn it off" she said with a barely concealed growl. There was not a pair of eyes in the office that was not staring her, some were trying and failing to pretend they weren't, she could practically hear their thoughts, Laurel Lance, couldn't even bust a few drug dealers in exchange for information? How pitiful. The district attorney, her boss, Rachel, was busy answering a hundred calls then.
Since there was clearly nothing she was capable of anymore she decided it wouldn't bother anyone if she took a trip to the station. Her father was all over the place when she arrived. He was trying to figure out who the hell had allowed prisoners to be murdered whilst detained, demanding the wardens to be brought in for questioning, patrol guards, lists of inmates checked, and hundreds of reel of camera footage gone through. Somehow nobody in the SCPD could be trusted anymore, no wonder no one in the Glades had any faith in the city's justice system.
Captain Lance spotted his daughter and put the phone down to speak with her, "Laurel, did you—?"
She simply gave a nod, his mouth twisted in the same way hers had when she was trying to control her rage. They went into his office. "These crooks hit the Penitentiary and Iron Heights simultaneously, in no less than five minutes apparently! Can you believe it? You could put straw dummies in front of the cells and they'd do a better job than the actual guards, I bet! Only the most skilled and experienced of operators could have accomplished this, don't get me started on the members of the force. The idiocy! There aren't many rotten folk like that in Starling. We'll find them Laurel, I promise."
Laurel glanced away, this was the part where her father came in, obviously her part in the whole farce was over. She could hear her name being read out on the live news. She shut his office door, grabbed a chair and sat down. For some inane reason her anger had not fully hit her. Yet all she felt was humiliation and the last thing she wanted was to start a rant in her father's office when he clearly had a million other things to do than chat with her. She just didn't know what to do, she rubbed her temple.
"Diego".
"He was one of those killed wasn't he? What about him?" Quentin asked.
"I just—I don't know, how did he die?"
He was hesitant, "Laurel, the details are—"
"Tell me."
"Stabbed twenty times. He bled to death where he stood."
I was meant to meet Mrs. Diego later today to discuss how we could save her husband, there's no point anymore. All Laurel could remember was Mrs. Diego's baby."His wife was expecting, how do I tell her I failed?"
He looked at her sympathetically, "you tell her the truth, it'll be painful no matter how you put it, but you have to be strong now Laurel. There's corruption in this city that needs to be weeded out, and you need to be ready for the storm when it comes." A sergeant knocked on his office door ushering him outside urgently, he got out of his chair walked towards it. "I'm sorry, I got to go now sweetheart."
"Hey dad" she stood and clutched her briefcase as Quentin glanced at her, "if you're looking for corruption. I'd start with Bill Baston."
2009
Hong Kong
It was easier to kill a man.
The queasiness in his stomach was threatening to upset it and make him heave out his lunch.
After twenty minutes of tormented screaming and two dozen scars crying blood the Triad messenger had revealed the encryption algorithm to decode the pen drive they had found in his coat pocket. He relayed the information to Maseo.
He didn't know who was paler, him or the man he had enforced abject physical pain on. But he had done it. He had done what was asked of him. Somehow he had managed to turn off his humanity.
"Got it. Good work Oliver. Leave him where he is, we have another mission."
Thanks, with all I'm learning from these people I deserve a gold star or some shit. The agent was on the floor below them. Trying to still his shaking hands he went downstairs, in haste he made a beeline for the sink. He had tried to avoid getting any blood on his hands but theoretically it was too late for his conscience to kick in and save him from causing any bloodshed. He scrubbed at them until the skin was red and raw and still they felt dirty. There was a stain on his shirt, he checked his fingernails and there was dry blood in them. His tummy turned again, he proceeded to pick at them beneath the running water. Get if off, get it off!
"Enough!" Maseo grabbed his wrist. "Washing your hands until your skin peels won't change what happened" scolded the agent. "If it helps, I know how you feel. I lost my appetite for a week after I conducted my first interrogation."
"No it doesn't" Oliver snarled and pulled his hand back "just tell me it wasn't all for nothing". He sat on the bench beside the computer desk. Maseo was trying to be understanding, to show empathy but he wasn't buying any of it. At least on the island you had to earn everyone's trust just as they had to earn yours, it was brotherhood- for a while before it all went to hell- here though, it was orders, orders, orders, and the occasional fake sentiment.
"It wasn't" said Maseo. "The intel was the confirmation of the date and location of a meet between a new Triad sponsor and Chien Nei Wei."
"So this is our opportunity to take her in".
"If she attends herself, she may send an envoy. Moreover, The Triad is being funded by this businessman; he might have a possible connection to others like him. But since this man is American and ARGUS does not enjoy traitors to the State then your mission is simple; eliminate the sponsor."
The ARGUS agent tapped on the computer pulling out the case file. A picture appeared, the picture of the businessman, the Triad sponsor, the person he was supposed to kill turned Oliver's blood ice cold. He stood, the chair toppling over behind him, he stabbed a finger at the screen.
"No, no! You're wrong! You have the wrong man!"
A/N: I'll be honest with you guys I've been kind of put off with writing because of the way Arrow S3 has turned out, I need to iron out a few issues first before writing further then chapter 19. Spoiler: the end of 'Nanda Parbat' I totally called it! Anyway I'll hope you like how my AU is going.