Synopsis: A masked villain has invaded the streets of Starling City and kills off rich, young men while eluding the Arrow, much to the latter's chagrin. Elsewhere, Oliver and Walter meet their new partner who might help them reclaim QC, but the return of familiar face threatens to endanger everything.
A/N: I more or less have a plan already for the entire 'season', and so I want to reassure my readers that this has a beginning, a middle and an end. I do not intend to abandon this or leave it unfulfilled. I also hope to update 1-2 'episodes per week (but I make no promises!).
3x02: All Is Fair In Love And War
"You're almost there, Oliver. Turn right in the next intersection and it's the second house on your left."
The masked vigilante masterly steered his trusted motorcycle through the late traffic as he asked, "How long before the police comes?"
"About three minutes," the voice in his ear was pure and alert as it led him forward like a beacon in the night. "There were no cops in the area when the 911 call came through a minute ago. You were closest."
"Any news on that?" the Arrow inquired as he parked his bike in an alley beside the house in question and removed his helmet.
He gazed up at the tall, fancy building and could easily imagine the cost of some of these apartments. He was well aware that he was in one of the more expensive areas of Starling, an area he knew well from his younger, bachelor days when partying had been a favorite past time. In fact, he was pretty certain he'd been arrested for a DUI a couple of blocks away once. Not one of his proudest moments, looking back on it.
Felicity's voice brought him back to the present, "Nothing. The victim, Tony Chan, called and said there was a masked vigilante in his apartment out to get him. The line went dead before he could say anymore. No contact since, but I'm monitoring it just in case."
Her tone spoke smoothly and swiftly, as always prepared to fire an answer. Oliver had long ago stopped wondering about her readiness, but was no less impressed after all this time of partnership.
"Now," she continued and steered the conversation back to him. "There ought to be a fire escape next to you in the alley. Tony Chan's flat is on the third floor right above your position."
"Got it," Oliver announced as he stepped over to the wall.
He grabbed hold of the downspout and hauled himself up the pale, brick wall with ease. His muscles tensed beneath the green leather as he agilely climbed higher and higher. He scaled the building until he could grab hold of the metal of the fire escape and hauled himself onto one of the horizontal platforms.
He withdrew his bow and a ready arrow from his quiver as he climbed the remaining floors. Like a fleeting shadow, he slowly crept towards the window he was looking for and wasn't surprised to find it ajar already. It explained how their masked foe had gotten inside despite the heavy security that surrounded these luxury apartment buildings.
He controlled his breathing to be inaudible as he listened to the night. He heard a few dull noises from within the apartment and flexed his fingers on the bow string as he prepared himself to pounce.
Oliver slipped through the open window and raised his bow to full alert. He stepped further into the darkened living room, in which he could barely make out any shapes due to the lack of light. As his eyes got used to the dark, he made out more details. He saw the faint outline of a wide sofa in the middle of the room, several book cases by the walls as well as a widescreen and a dining room table at the other end of the vast chamber.
The sounds he'd heard earlier had been replaced by a deafening silence, but he wasn't fooled by the lull of false security. His trained senses could feel the presence of another in the room.
In the frail, pale glow of the low moon, he suddenly made out a silhouette on the floor behind the lavish couch. The hairs at the back of his neck stood at attention as he stepped towards the immobile shape. It was the form of a young man and the pool of blood beside the man's stomach told the morbid story on its own.
As Oliver hovered over the dead body, something suddenly came flying towards him from the belly of the darkest shadows. A body slammed into his and the bow slipped from his grasp as he lost his balance.
Both the Arrow and his attacker scrambled to their feet and for the fraction of a second their eyes met across a bottomless chasm.
Oliver's gaze sized up his opponent as he kept a cool head. The stranger was slender and shorter than him, with hair pulled back in a tight knot and face mostly hidden behind a teal domino mask that masked the tight, leather outfit she wore. He leaped forward to apprehend what he assumed was a woman. She agilely jumped out of the way with the graze of a gazelle and was out the window before Oliver could get a second chance. He rushed over to look outside. His eyes swept across the skies and the neighborhood, but there was so sign of her. The masked villain had already been swallowed by night's protective cloak.
With a defeated sigh, the vigilante stepped back inside to retrieve his bow and the discarded arrow.
"Oliver?" Felicity's voice carried itself anxiously over the Bluetooth headset.
The man sighed as he glanced back at the deceased body, half-forgotten in his abandoned pose on the floor. "Chan is dead. The attacker got away."
"You'd better get out of there. The cops are almost on your position."
Oliver turned back to the open window as he turned off his faint remorse for the fallen man. "I'll see you in the foundry."
"Hey," Felicity greeted as Oliver descended the stairs and made a beeline towards her workstation.
The woman wore a peach-colored dress and hair up in its usual ponytail as she worked. Her fingers clattered away in record speed on the keyboard as she brought up security footage for him to see. "I checked the security cameras from the roads outside Mr Chan's apartment, but they didn't capture any retrieving shape… But, and don't take this the wrong way, we're kind of lucky this transpired in the wealthier parts of Starling. Guess who had a security camera installed in his flat? I hacked into Mr Chan's private feed and look at this…"
She played the clip and Oliver leaned over her shoulder to watch the scene shot from a camera positioned in the living room. The footage was muted, but it was a pretty good view of the room itself. Together they watched as the masked woman toyed with her frightened victim like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. She momentarily left him half-beaten to enter the adjacent bedroom and they watched as the victim pulled out his phone with trembling hands. Before long, the woman returned with money and valuables in one hand, which she shoved into a small purse attached to her belt. With neither pause nor reprieve, she pulled out a gun and shot the man in the guts. They watched as Tony Chan fell backwards onto his wooden floor with an agonized grimaced.
"She's ruthless," Felicity cleared her throat and paused the feed. "Kind of looks like a one-sided BDSM show. Not that I… have any idea what that looks like. It's just a parallel… that's not very befitting. Or too befitting."
Oliver sighed as he stretched tall and squared his broad shoulders. "Any idea who it is?"
"No. The mask makes it difficult to get a positive ID and she mainly keeps her back to the cameras anyway. I think she knew where they were positioned..." the blonde mused and ran a hand over her blonde locks as her face clouded in contemplation. "It could be a long shot, but I'll look over the camera feed for the past couple of days; see if any women makes an appearance in Mr Chan's flat."
They both turned back as they heard steps descend into the lair and Diggle nodded in their direction. Oliver returned the greeting before swirling back to his blonde partner.
"Any guess as to why Chan was chosen?"
"Money?" Felicity shrugged. "We don't know who this woman is, so it's too early to venture a guess as to her motives."
The man ran a hand across his stubbled jaw line as he forced himself to back down. The woman was right and there was no point getting too worked up before they had more information. He cleared his mind and ventured onto another topic that gnawed at him, "… And what about our other masked friend?"
"Nothing," the woman sighed and swirled in her seat to face the other. "And I mean not a thing. Nightwing hasn't popped up since that night. Perhaps he was a passing shadow."
"I still want to know who he was," Oliver admitted in a low grumble. "And you're sure it was a bat on his suit?"
"A dark-blue bat. Right across the chest. You know who it could be?"
"I've heard… stories of a Batman in Gotham City."
"A friend of yours?" Diggle questioned with a teasing hum as he stepped over.
Oliver grinned in reply, but the absence of a verbal reply seemed to speak louder than words ever could.
Felicity frowned. "Any chance the Batman and our Nightwing are two different entities?"
"Probably, but I get the feeling they might know each other," Oliver said with a meek shrug and let his words be sufficient response for the night. He could practically feel his friends curiosity take physical form in the lack of explanation, but also knew the truth would have to wait a little longer. "Keep looking, will you?"
The blonde inclined her head and turned back to her screens. "Of course."
Next morning, Oliver tiredly shuffled his feet as he sat in the red booth and waited for his breakfast date. Though the sun had peeked its head above the horizon it was still too early for most to be awake. It was certainly too early for Oliver to be wide-awake, but his fitful dreams meant he didn't get much sleep anyway. The diner was all but empty except for the odd regulars and the red-aproned waitresses that were cleaning the empty tables in preparation of the day.
Oliver's phone suddenly vibrated on the table top beside him and he glanced down at the Caller-ID. Laurel. Oliver muted the incoming call and tried his best to ignore the tugging sensation in the pit of his heart.
He looked up as the door to the burger joint opened and he waved the other man over. Walter was clad in a sharp suit, ready for a busy workday, as he sank into the booth opposite the younger man.
"I must admit, I was a bit surprised at the offered venue, Oliver," the older commented, but his eyes held its usual wicker of kindness. "Not your typical business meeting. … 'Big Belly Burger'? The name alone inspires love."
Oliver dipped his head as he smirked and his gaze briefly fell to his own brown, leather jacket. It wasn't the first time he felt under-dressed in Walter's company, both regarding a suit and a proper title. For another second, he let his controlled mask slip as he revealed, "I… took mum here once, actually. Wanted her to see something different for a change and just… spend some time with her son. She loved the burgers."
Walter hummed, "I can imagine."
The waitress came over to take their order and as soon as she was gone, Oliver leaned his elbows against the table top.
His eyes flickered to the staff in red aprons and the other guests scattered across the tables in the mostly empty diner. He felt his shoulders relax a little as he faced his friend once more and spoke in a low voice, "… You've got the numbers from Ned Foster's sale?"
"I do, and there are good news: the VP at Deleon International managed to buy a significant amount. With her share, the three of us control 43 % of Queen Consolidated... Simon Cross managed to purchase a small part, though, and now owns 47 %."
There was a brief pause in conversation as the waiter returned with their breakfast and wished them a pleasant day before giving them their privacy once more.
While the Brit sipped from his tea, Oliver did the math in his head. He leaned back with a scowl. "… That's only 90 %."
Walter nodded and his lips fell into a tight line before he confessed, "The remaining 10 %, released on the market an hour after the main share, was purchased by someone that's remained anonymous."
Oliver resisted the impulse to roll his eyes in exasperation and instead clenched his jaw in a deep sigh. "So you're telling me we don't have a controlling interest either way, and have a possible wild card to deal with?"
Walter fixed the young man with a pointed look that held its fair share of parental unease, "No one ever said it would be easy to reclaim what you lost, Oliver. As for the fifth owner, I'm trying to track him or her down, but it might take more time. I might not know their identity before Jane gets here."
"Jane… Deleon?" Oliver asked and blinked as he processed the news. "She's our ally, as you called her?"
Walter nodded. "Yes. Jane purchased Ned's share and it will force Cross into a partnership with her over QC. She called last night to inform me she was on her way across the Atlantic. She'll be arriving in Starling City tomorrow afternoon and wants to discuss business with both of us as soon as possible."
Memories of a seemingly forgotten youth flashed before his inner eye, as Oliver distantly mused, "She was 16 the last time I met her... and had braces. I can't believe… VP at her age? She's only four years older than Thea."
"I'll let her explain her situation when she arrives. … I know you don't trust her yet, Oliver, but please trust that I wouldn't do anything to endanger your future. Moira would have wanted Queen Consolidated back in your hands - yours and Thea's - and I vow to help make it so."
"I trust you, Walter," the young man sighed truthfully.
Oliver paused in his relentless assault on the punching bag and exhaled deeply, feeling his heart beat lower slowly but surely back to normal. He wiped some sweat off his brow as he turned to the sound of fingers tapping away like a hurricane across the keyboard.
"Anything yet?" he asked, impatience dripping from his voice.
"Keep your shirt on, Oliver-" Felicity began but paused as she turned and looked down at his tan, bare chest. "Well, figuratively speaking…"
Oliver fought to contain his grin from spreading across his features when her cobalt eyes rose to meet his and Felicity quickly spun back to her computers.
"I'm running all the different identification programs I have access to, but no ID on Nightwing or our femme fatale yet."
"Femme fatale?" Oliver clucked as he stepped towards her workstation.
"She is literally a lethal female," the blonde looked up at him over the brim of her glasses and her vibrant eyes sparkled beneath the pale lights. "So…"
"Works for me," he shrugged in acceptance.
"Bet it does," the woman muttered under her breath as she eyed the programs in front of her.
Oliver tilted his head to the side and suppressed his mirth. Before he could comment, a low, beeping sound stole the moment from him. The monitors alerted them to police activity and Felicity eyed the reported incident.
"I think our femme fatale just dropped another body. A young man was murdered in his flat by an unknown assailant that disappeared through the window… and robbed the deceased. Sounds the same, doesn't it?"
"Can you access the police records?"
"They've just found the body… Not even I'm that good. I'm starting to see a pattern, though," Felicity mused. She brought all the information she'd found so far onto her screens and leaned back. "Our femme fatale seems to have a type. Rich, young, eligible men all with successful businesses... Not too shabby on the eyes either if you know what I'm saying… Which you don't."
Oliver let her ramblings linger in the air between them as he directed another question to her, "What's the victim's name?"
"James Vonn."
"I know that name," the dark-blond man pondered as he leaned back against the counter next to her. "I knew him fleetingly years back. He used to hang with me and Tommy during our… rough phase. Come to think about it, so did Chan occasionally."
"Seems it wasn't just a phase to these guys, though," Felicity said. "I went over the security footage from Chan's flat and let me tell you, the man got more action than a slot machine in Vegas. There were at least five different women during the week I checked. All five the leggy model type and possible candidates to be our masked villain. I'm thinking she scouts ahead, to see if she's found a worthy victim. Rich victim."
"ID:d them yet?"
Her blonde ponytail grazed the creamy skin of her shoulder as she nodded, "Yep. Nothing suspicious about any of them, though. Not at first glance, at least, but I'm far from done."
"Good start. And Felicity…" Oliver breathed and lowered himself to her eye-level briefly. "The woman – the femme fatale – doesn't work for me. Not my type."
The blonde shot him a disbelieving grin as the man pushed off the table and turned to continue his training.
"Ah, Ms Smoak! Right on time!" Quentin exclaimed as he saw the familiar blonde stepped towards his desk in the police station.
She was dressed sharply in high heels and a flowery skirt peeked out beneath her trench coat. Felicity flashed the man a wide grin as she greeted, "Hello, Detective. Are you good to go?"
The grey-haired man grimaced apologetically, "I just need to run something by a colleague. Do you mind waiting? ...It'll only be a minute."
"No rush," she assured and watched the elder policeman hurry out of the room with a folder under his arm.
A hand appeared in her line of view then and Felicity watched as someone placed a manila folder atop of Quentin's already stacked desk. Her gaze followed the dark sleeve up the rest of the standard police uniform. Her gaze landed on his face and she blinked.
The tall man had a friendly, clean-shaven face and dark eyes the color of coffee. His short hair was also brown and somewhat tousled atop his head. He was about Diggle's height and width from the looks of it, and Felicity couldn't quite pull her eyes from him. As if sensing her eyes on him, the policeman turned and met her gaze head on. Before she could stop herself, Felicity stated, "Hi."
"Hi…" the man replied with a slight grin. He held her gaze under silence for a second longer, before he seemingly remembered himself. He extended a tan hand in her direction as he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, where are my manners, right? I'm Richard. Friends call me Dick."
The blonde accepted the offered hand and shook it firmly. "I'm Felicity. Friends call me Felicity."
The policeman exhaled in amusement, something bright flashing through his vibrant eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak.
Before he had a chance, Quentin returned to his workstation. His voice surprised the blonde who nearly jumped in her place as she turned to him, "I see you've met my newest recruit. Officer Grayson. Straight from the streets of Blüdhaven."
"Oh?" Felicity managed meekly.
"My second week in Starling," Dick nodded.
"How do you like it so far?"
"It's… got potential," the tall man breathed and his curious gaze still lingering on her features nearly made the blonde blush.
Quentin shrugged on his jacket as he nodded towards the exit. "Ready for lunch, Ms Smoak?"
The blonde inclined her head as she moved to follow the Detective out of the building.
Dick's voice pulled her back like a magnet to its counterpole, "Nice to meet you, Felicity."
Felicity glanced back over her shoulder and found her voice faster than expected, "You too, Dick."
"See you around?" the man's grin widened unabashedly.
The question quite took her by surprise. It wasn't often that a handsome man payed her attention at all, and certainly not with such open interest. Or perhaps, she reminded herself cautiously, she was over-reacting to his friendliness. Still, she couldn't quite help the flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the possibility.
"Eh, yeah… Uh-huh. Sure," she nodded furtively and turned on her heel to follow her lunch date out the door before she could ruin the moment by making a foolish comment.
Oliver felt his stride widen as his ears picked up two voices from inside Walter's office down the hall. The British accents mingled effortlessly and he felt his own heart be swept away by memories of carefree days without angst or effort.
He stopped in the open doorway to gaze at the two people inside: Walter, dressed as always in a suit and tie, and the young woman beside him.
The British woman wore her blonde, styled bob to her shoulders and matched it with a white dress that reached her knees and hugged her slender curves effortlessly. She wore flat shoes, but still stood quite tall and carried herself with a confident air that only came with money and guarantees. Her sea-colored eyes sparkled in the sunlight and for a second she looked just like the girl Oliver had known all those years ago, playing wild games with Thea in the gardens outside Queen Manor.
"Jane?" he asked as he found his voice.
The blonde turned her head towards him and her face broke into a wide grin. "Oliver! I haven't seen you in ages!"
He stepped inside and embraced the woman tightly before he stepped back to have a better look at her. To see how her transformation had changed her. "I can hardly believe it's you, Killer."
"Ugh…" Jane rolled her eyes but the tease of a smile lingered on her full lips as she stepped back to lean against the mahogany desk. "I can't believe you remember that nickname, Ollie. I haven't heard it since I moved from this place… what, eight years ago?"
The man shrugged innocently as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. "Old habits die hard."
"Yeah, well, I'm feeling old right now. Eight years…" the woman mock-shuddered. "How's Speedy doing?"
Oliver tried to conceal a worried flinch as he replied, "Thea's… good. All things considered."
Jane effortlessly read between the lines and eyed him curiously. Her clever eyes darted from one man to the other as she voiced the truth, "Meaning she's not. Is she around? I'd like to catch up with her if I could… I've missed her."
"She's not in town, actually."
"Where is she?"
"Visiting Walter's mother in England," Oliver supplied without missing a beat. "Walter thought she needed some air after everything and was kind enough to offer her a vacation away from Starling."
"He failed to tell me that…" Jane's unspoken question lingered in the office as her voice trailed off.
Walter saved the situation with more grace than the younger man had expected, "Well, it's not easy remembering everything at my age, dear. It's enough to keep track of QC and my job at Starling City Bank, to be fair."
"… Is that so?" the blonde inquired in her thick, London-accent and tilted her head to the side. She was evidently not done prodding, and her words seemed to pick at their brains as she pointed out, "Because now that I think about it, I do believe I read in some newspaper that Thea was taking a long vacation with friends in Aruba after the death of her mother."
Once more, Walter beat the other man to the punchline. "You shouldn't believe everything you read in gossip magazines, Jane."
"I suppose that's true. If gossip papers actually contributed with an ounce of truth, I'd be married to Prince Harry and separated, by now. Twice over. Sadly, I've never even met him…" Jane shrugged as she made a slight moue. "Listen, I just came in to say hello today. I believe perhaps it's better to leave business until I've got a bit settled, yeah?"
"Sounds like a plan, Jane," the older man nodded reassuringly and patted her shoulder.
The vibrant woman, still as full of life as the hurricane girl she'd once been, glanced down at her wristwatch and grimaced, "I'm terribly sorry, but I have to run to look at a flat I'm thinking of renting." She turned her attention to Oliver and her eyes sparkled with hope as she asked, "But catch up later, no? Drinks?"
"Of course," Oliver grinned politely.
Lance eyed the young woman across from him in the burger joint. Felicity Smoak shone like the sun outside and seemed carefree and relaxed, despite the secrets he knew must weigh her down. Her night-time job had to have its strain, after all, but she carried none of it with her in daylight. During their lunch so far, they'd talked about casual things like Sara and his job. Nothing about her, though, he realized and it spurred his curiosity until it all bubbled up to the surface.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin before he leaned his elbows against the flat surface and asked, "I'm curious about you, Ms Smoak. I mean… how does a girl like you end up connected with a guy like… him?"
The blonde shrugged her lean shoulders as she leaned back in their little cubicle. She seemed surprised to be asked, but gently offered, "My hobby, I suppose."
"No, no… I meant… You could have said no, couldn't you? He would have been okay with that, right?" Quentin asked as he pushed for more details. "Besides, the Arrow doesn't strike me as a man who has partners. Not lasting, at least. And you're not like Sara. You didn't… join a league, right?"
Felicity shook her head with a slight grimace. "Only membership I've ever had was to a gym here in Starling, and I regretted it instantly. Money wasted, I tell you."
"So… why did you do it?" the grey-haired man prodded. As far as he knew, she was still more or less a blank canvas and he wanted to get to know her beyond their mutual friend. "You're obviously invaluable to him… but I don't understand. Why does a nice, young girl like you go into business like that?"
"Eh… I still have to say 'my hobby', but I think I need to explain that if you're to understand. Strictly off the record…"
"Naturally. I promise to forget every word after you're done."
Felicity cleared her throat and as she explained, her eyes fell to the checkered table cloth, "I started building computers when I was seven, started hacking into records when I was in high school, started counting cards at the casinos at the age of seventeen, fake ID included. I suppose… working with the Arrow is a step up from my past. I've never been much for 100 % legal activities."
Quentin blinked. "… Wow! I wouldn't have guessed."
"Not a lot of people do…" the young woman smiled. "My family didn't have a lot growing up in Vegas. And I felt more connected to the computers than my mother, you know."
"What about your dad?"
"… Don't really remember him. He left when I was a kid," she swallowed and suddenly took an interest in her leftover fries. "And it's not… What I did back then, it wasn't the bad kind of illegal. I wasn't a criminal. Not really. I counted cards to earn just enough money to pay for college, so that I could get away from Las Vegas… Build a new life for myself. I never imagined it would become like this, though, but I wouldn't have it any other way."
Lance felt the corners of his lips turn up in a genuine smile. There was something about this one that just awoke his parental instincts, and he couldn't deny it. "You're quite an extraordinary character, aren't you, Ms Smoak?"
"I've been told I'm remarkable," Felicity blushed crimson as she stuttered, "Not that I think I'm-… I didn't mean to come off like that."
"Well, whoever said it sounds like a smart person. Now, I'm sorry, but I have to get back to work. Have a precinct to run, you know," he spoke warmly and the two got out of their seats to head out. They walked out of the burger joint side by side in relaxed silence. When they reached the sunlit streets, Quentin casually withdrew a business card from his pocket and held it for the woman. "Here."
"What's that?" Felicity asked as she accepted the small piece of paper and eyed it curiously.
"Officer Grayson's number. Thought I didn't notice earlier, huh? I'm a father of two beautiful girls who've always been popular with the guys. Trust me, I have a special radar for those things," Quentin winked and then shrugged innocently enough. "At least that guy's normal, you know compared to the other odd-jobs you spend time with off-hours. You could deserve some normalcy after everything you've sacrificed for this city and for him."
An impish smile brightened her features briefly as she put the card in her purse. "… Thank you."
"Take care, Ms Smoak. And I mean that."
"You too, Detective."
"That's 'Quentin' or 'Mr Lance' to you, do you hear?"
The woman ducked her head and her voice was smaller as she asked of him in return, "Then it's 'Felicity'."
"Fair enough," the man inclined his head. "And hey, don't be a stranger. I'll always be here if you need someone to talk to or want someone to join you for burgers. My girls say I'm quite a good listener. Or so I hear."
She chuckled and he was glad to see her nod in affirmation. "I won't be a stranger. I promise."
"Good girl."
As Oliver entered the crowded bar later that night, his eyes flew across the large amount of people cautiously. It had been a long time since he entered any room without checking the perimeter first. The instinct came especially in handy during his night-time profession. It had saved him from losing his head more than once in the past.
"Ollie!" he heard a bright voice from his right echo above the loud chatter and music.
He turned and saw Jane by a table up on the platform where the music wasn't as loud. He smiled as he made his way past a couple of tables and sank into the seat opposite her.
"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering you a drink," the blonde spoke and nodded down at the untouched glass of whiskey on the steel table before him.
"Thank you," Oliver smiled and took a sip from it. The smokey liquid went down his throat, leaving a raw but welcomed aftertaste, and he eyed his company. "You know… I still can't believe you're back."
"You and me both!" Jane grinned as she drank from her own glass. "I've missed this place. And the people."
"So…" Oliver drawled. He was astutely aware of the fact that Jane had been Thea's best friend all those years ago. He'd known her, but they'd never been close friends per se. The age gap and different interests at that time in their lives hadn't exactly brought them together. It didn't instill him with either trust or easy friendship now that he knew she'd be a partner in crime regarding QC. Walter had told him to trust her, but he wasn't ready for that step yet. He needed more answers before even being willing to consider the option. "… How've you been?"
She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "In the past eight years, you mean? It was nice moving back home to England… though it happened so sudden."
"It did, didn't it?" the man hummed. "I don't remember why, though."
"It was a long time ago… Who does?" she mused but something dark flashed through her eyes for a second. "I was sorry to hear about your loss. I always liked Moira… though she could be intimidating as hell at times."
"That she could be," the man smiled tensely. "Same could be said about your father, though."
"… Didn't you hear the news?" Jane questioned and her body language was suddenly stiff and uncomfortable. "He died a few months back. Cancer."
"I… No. I hadn't heard. I'm sorry."
She pursed her lips in response as she seamlessly changed the topic away from one that seemed to haunt her, "Walter kept me informed about your family over the years, you know. He knew how much I missed you. This idea… that I can help you with QC… it's all his idea. When I inherited my father's share in DI, he saw an opportunity and decided not to waste it."
Oliver side-stepped her advance and asked, "So… you're VP?"
"Well, now I practically own half of QC," she offered with a widening smile. "My commitments to DI will have to wait …But you're concerned I'm too young to help you win QC back."
"No," Oliver lied.
Without missing a beat, the Brit argued, "Thea ran Verdant when she was 19."
"Verdant wasn't a Fortune 500-Company."
"Neither is QC at the moment. Haven't you seen the statistics? It lost that status in the past six months due to bad investments," she retorted, easily slipping into a defensive mode that left no room for questioning. "Listen, I'm only five years younger than you were when you became CEO of Queen Consolidated. So not that young to hold a title."
"… Fair enough," he backed down.
"All of this... it's only for awhile, anyway. Only until you're back on your feet and can take over," Jane's eyes burned with a passion as she leaned closer. "I promise… I have no intention of lingering in Starling. QC is yours, Ollie. Or soon will be again. Anyway, I'm not CEO of QC."
Oliver was grateful as she led them back to the topic of business. "When are you meeting with the board?"
"I have a short introduction tomorrow morning. The important meeting's in a week though. It will be a game changer, but not necessarily in our favor yet."
"You're the second most influential partner of QC," the man frowned at her pessimistic approach. "You and Simon Cross have the final word of business."
"I need an appropriate title to match that influence if we're to move forward. As long as Simon Cross is only acting CEO, I could still win the title from him. But I can't make any guarantees that the board will be swayed one way or the other. It's too early to tell…" she told him in all earnest. "I need to play the game, Oliver. And more than that, I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing. Can you…?"
Oliver steadily held her gaze as he processed her words and tried to see past her guarded emotions. Before he could comment, a lean figure had suddenly appeared from the crowds and hovered beside their table.
"Excuse me, Mr Queen?"
The man pulled his gaze away from his company to the woman who had spoken. The stranger was lean and her tanned skin matched the silver, sequined dress almost to perfection. She had an angular face and it was framed by long, curly hair that gave her features an edge. She eyed him like a predator hungry for a meal and he tacitly shifted in his seat. Another model that believed he was still the same playboy he'd been seven years ago.
"… Yes?"
He couldn't quite place her South-American accent as she asked, "Would you like a dance?"
"I'm in the middle of catching up with an old friend," he turned her down and pointed his half-empty glass at the blonde beside him.
"Well, how about later?" the model cooed and leaned down close all the while offering a good glimpse of her cleavage. Oliver kept his gaze on a fixed point up in the ceiling as she discreetly pushed a card into his chest pocket and whispered, "My name's Honey, and I'm staying at the Plaza… Room 312. If you want to dance later. Or you could just find me… I'll be here another hour or two."
"M-hm…" he hummed forcefully with a short nod and watched as the brunette beauty disappeared into the crowds like a fish in a vast ocean.
Jane smirked into the brim of her whiskey glass as she mirthfully asked, "… Are women always throwing themselves at you like that?"
"Eh… Not like that, no," Oliver clarified as he took a swig from his own drink. Trying to match her amusement, he commented, "Not always, anyway."
"Oh, just sometimes?"
"Sometimes, yes."
"… Tough," she said in a deadpan voice. Her eyes flew across the room and settled on something as she quietly exclaimed, "Oh, and look! Here comes another one…"
Oliver turned and stiffened as he saw the woman approaching them this time. Dressed in a pale suit and bright blouse, Laurel Lance cut a striking figure as she walked towards them.
"Excuse me, Jane," Oliver exhaled as he pulled back his seat and rose in a fluid motion.
"Of course," the blonde drawled with just a tad too much delight for the man's taste. "You're a busy man."
He squinted down at her briefly before turning to meet Laurel half-way. He put a gentle hand on her elbow and guided them over to a quiet corner of the bar. "What are you doing here?"
The eldest Lance girl held her chin high as she proclaimed, "I came to see you, Ollie."
Oliver grimaced. "How did you know where I was?"
"I called Felicity," the brunette shrugged. "We need to talk, and you know that. You've been avoiding me and I won't have it anymore."
He inhaled sharply. He recognized the conviction in her eyes and knew she was on the warpath. This was something he couldn't flee from anymore. "… We will talk. But not now, Laurel."
She smiled. "Tomorrow at eight. Your place."
Oliver inclined his head once. "I'll be at home."
"Felicity still not back from A.R.G.U.S?" Oliver breathed as he jogged down the stairs to the foundry at the crack of dawn. Apart from apprehending a few robbers, it had been a quiet night on the streets. He discarded his bow in its case and pulled back his hood as he stepped over to the others.
Roy's frustrated and exasperated expression said it all as he turned in the ergonomically designed computer chair to glance back at the returning hero.
"I'm too afraid to touch anything," the younger man admitted with wide, unblinking eyes and waved a hand in the direction of the monitors. "Felicity threatened me with bodily harm if I screwed up her equipment. She doesn't strike me as a violent person… but something tells me she meant that."
"She does. Remember what happened to the Clock King," Diggle quipped in a bantering voice as he stepped away from the exercise mat to join the other men. "Anything?"
Oliver shook his head. "She hasn't killed in a couple of nights. She's already had three victims in Starling this week. She's quick and keeps eluding me. She always slips from my grasp just as I'm about to catch her."
"Hey," the guys turned as Felicity stepped down into the foundry and smiled at them.
"Anything from Amanda?" Oliver questioned as he watched her remove her jacket and hang it aside.
"Does anyone else still get goose bumps when she refers to you as an 'agent'? No? Just me?" the woman asked and when no one replied, she cleared her throat and offered an answer to the first question, "I have good news, for once. Not that Amanda cracked a smile or anything, so you wouldn't know it was actually good news. Check this out."
She sat down in her chair as Roy vacated it and brought up a file on the wide screen on the wall beside her station. The men turned to look at the high-tech screen as she clarified, "Out of the five women caught on tape that visited Chan's apartment, one of them fit a villain A.R.G.U.S has been after for a while. Actually, she's a rogue agent."
"A.R.G.U.S agent?" Roy questioned.
"Special ops. She went a little crazy after her husband - another agent - died on a mission overseas. No one knows exactly what happened, but she changed career path after she returned home. She now goes under the alter ego Cupid. Real name Carrie Montoya. She seems consistent in her technique. She seduces her victims – a ruse to get an overview of the security in her victim's flats - and then kills them to clean them of all their money. She's been claiming the lives of rich, young men from Canada to Chile this past year. She keeps changing her appearance to make it more difficult to apprehend her."
She pressed another key and several different photos of the same woman appeared on the screen. The striking face with the strong cheekbones was always the same, but the rest varied greatly. Blonde hair, curly hair, different colored eyes and even a fake nose every now and again. Oliver clenched his fist beside his thigh as he recognized the face.
"I've seen that woman before," he said and felt three pairs of eyes turn to him in a flash. "Tonight. She made a pass at me in the bar."
"Not your type, huh?" Felicity teased.
"Hang on," Roy interrupted and his gaze flew between the members of his team. "Is she setting her sights on you then?"
"That could explain why she hasn't killed in a few days," Diggle agreed with a worried frown. "You're her next victim."
"She only goes after wealthy men," the vigilante exhaled tiredly. "I don't check that box anymore, remember? I'm not her target."
"We can't be sure of that, Oliver," Diggle disagreed.
"We can," the man argued stubbornly.
"She's already shown interest in you, which counts for something," the older man said sternly. John crossed his arms over his chest and stepped in front of his friend. "What else happened at that bar tonight?"
"Nothing."
Felicity didn't look up from her computers as she quipped, "Meaning something."
"No…" Oliver closed his eyes. He knew his team just as well as they knew him; this wasn't something they would just let go. He admitted, "But Laurel stopped by unannounced."
"Wait… This crazy chick, the new owner of QC and Laurel? Oliver Queen's immaculate threesome..." Roy huffed in wonder. "That's a lot… even by your outdated standards, man."
"Good thing he's the Poster Boy for self-restraint," Felicity muttered as she shrugged her eyebrows at the man in question.
Oliver kept his features impassive as he refrained from commenting on the snide remarks that lingered in the tense air around him. He watched as the blonde lowered her gaze and he exhaled slowly. He ignored the slight sting in his heart and looked away. That wasn't a place he would allow himself to go, especially not tonight.
"What happened next?" Diggle prodded in a soft tone.
The Arrow turned back to his friend. "Jane was jet-lagged and headed back to her hotel before ten. I didn't see our villain again. I came here. Alone."
"And Laurel? What did she want?"
"To talk. I promised to meet her tomorrow night."
"…A date, is it?" Roy teased like a younger brother.
"No," Oliver shook his head adamantly and glowered at the shorter man. "It's not a date… It's not."
"Well…" Felicity's grin was aloof and unreadable as she turned back to him ."Have fun on your non-date with Laurel. But be mindful of flirtatious villains, will you?"
"Felicity's right," John remarked as he backed her up. "Maybe we ought to put extra security on you for a few days?"
"Not going to happen, Dig," Oliver refused and knew his voice left little room for debate. "I'll be fine."
Oliver opened the door and smiled down at Laurel. "Hey. Come on in."
The woman returned the grin as she stepped into his hallway. She'd been in his little flat a handful of times since he'd moved in, but she quite thought the place fit the man perfectly. It was no Queen Manor exactly, but still had its own personality. She knew he was short on cash, and so the interior design was simple and basic.
She followed him into the living room and her eyes traveled across the space, acquainting themselves with the surroundings. The small living room served as a dining room as well, though she knew he didn't cook home often and the table was rarely used for eating around. An olivine-colored sofa took up most of the room and a smaller television completed the lie of a normal, bachelor life. Here and there he had decorated with personal objects she'd seen in Queen Manor, and her gaze lingered on the boat model he kept in a glass case beside the television.
The handsome man sank onto the couch cushions now and turned his expectant eyes up to her.
Laurel felt her heart skip a beat at the unspoken question. She didn't want to waste his time and simply dove straight in. "You know what I want."
"Laurel..." the man sighed and rose from his seat as she made no inclination of joining him.
"I want in, Ollie," she argued with a passion as he came to stand before her.
"You're practically an honorary member," he assured and reached up to squeeze her arm, "isn't that enough?"
"No... No, it's not enough!"
He lowered his hand and stepped back. As he put some space between them, he calmly uttered, "I'm sorry, but it's all I can offer you."
Laurel shook her head, refusing to be down-played and parked in the corner once more. She hated being left on the sidelines when she'd finally been given a glimpse of what life could entail for her, a world Oliver and Sara had opened her eyes to. "I can fight, Ollie. You know I've had self-defense lessons since I was a kid. I can protect myself. Maybe it doesn't count for much in the real world, but you can teach me how to fight. To save people. We could be partners."
"We are business partners; I catch the bad guys and you put them behind bars. Right now I need you on the inside at the DA's office," the man spoke quietly.
She saw the silent plea in his vibrant gaze and knew he still kept her at arm's length. Close, but not close enough to touch. He couldn't see that his need of keeping her safe matched her need to make a difference. His opinion wasn't about to change. Tonight was meant to be another brief defeat. "… Fine."
"Thank you," he breathed honestly and turned from her.
"Hey, Ollie..." she asked as her gaze landed on his firm back and she tried to keep her voice indifferent and upbeat. She had a feeling she wouldn't fool either of them, but a small part of her had to know the truth, "That girl you were out with yesterday… who was that?"
Oliver sighed. He recognized that voice and could hear the jealous undercurrent despite her efforts. Slowly, he turned back around and held her gaze as he stated, "Laurel… I can't."
"Why not?"
"I just... can't."
"No, Ollie. You won't. It's different," the woman argued and lowered her voice as she stepped after him. "Ollie… We've been through a lot together. Dark times, and light… And we're still here. Side by side. I think that counts for something. Means something. We… had it once. We could still have it."
"Laurel…," he breathed and shook his head slowly. He didn't have any words to describe what he felt and left it at that. He knew the truth whirled in his eyes, but wasn't entirely certain she read it clearly.
She swallowed. "In fact, I don't think we ever lost it, Oliver… And I think you feel that, too."
"I can't be with you."
"Why not?"
Oliver shrugged and felt the tension invade his muscles as he backed away from her. There was too much that couldn't be voiced between them, too much emotions left unexplored for anything to make sense right now. "I won't endanger the people I love."
"So you'll just be mopey and loveless for the rest of your life?" she snorted coldly.
"If it's necessary to keep the people around me alive, then yes," he retorted without missing a beat.
Laurel shook her head as she disagreed with the logic, "That's stupid, Ollie. And it overlooks the fact that people make their own choices. Your friends are loyal to you because they care about you. They know they are in danger because of it, but that doesn't stop them. And I know they save you, too, just as you save them. There's a damn good reason the Arrow doesn't work alone."
Oliver set his jaw. "I know the importance of love… But that's different from what you're asking of me."
"No, it isn't," Laurel contended.
As she took another step to shorten the distance between them, something small came flying towards her through the air. The small dart pierced her neck and Laurel slumped to the ground behind the sofa. Oliver flew forward to her side as his gaze flew up to the window. He caught the sight out a shadow climbing upwards and threw himself into action. He kicked in the next gear as he launched himself onto the fire escape outside and climbed onto the roof.
As he set his feet on the concrete rooftop, he saw Cupid's slender frame running across the wide, open space further away. He whipped his arm in her direction and shot a small, flechette arrow at her, which had been attached inside his left sleeve.
The flechette revealed a wire as it ensnared around her calves and Oliver watched as the masked villain fell to the ground with a pained moan.
"What did you do to her?!" he growled as he ran over to her and roughly pulled her up into a seated position.
"Relax, sexy," the woman cooed teasingly even as her winning hand slipped away from her. She tugged out of his grasp and untangled her limbs from the wire before she rose to meet his gaze. Her emerald eyes stood in stark contrast to her dark mask. "Your girlfriend's only sedated… Anyway, she's not my usual type. I have no interest in her."
Oliver took a forceful step towards her and refused to back down from the challenge. "You're here for me."
"That better not be surprise in your voice. I'd be so disappointed if it was…" she played with him and ran a tender palm down the side of his face.
"I know who you are, Carrie," the man hissed as he pulled away from her touch.
She cocked her head to the side and whispered in a velvety voice, "And I know who you are… Arrow."
"What do you want with me?"
"With you or in general?" the woman cooed curiously. "In general, I want what any scorned woman deserve: Justification. Too long have men ruled over women, I'm only aiming to level the play field with the same means that your sex use: Seduction and power. The money I take from my victims make it worthwhile, too. What do I want with you, though? Well... that remains to be seen...," Cupid blinked up at the man with wide, transfixed eyes that seemed to devour his soul.
Without warning, she lashed out an arm to slash at his face, but Oliver was prepared. He pushed it away as he approached her for hand-to-hand combat. She was agile like an acrobat as she fought back, easily ducking most of his blows but without inflicting much harm on her opponent either. She got in a good kick to his chest, but Oliver recovered quickly.
As she directed another low punch at him, he saw his chance. He swiftly grabbed hold of her arm and pressed it up against her back. She grunted in pain as he twisted it further. "No man has ever bested me before tonight…"
"Get used to disappointment," Oliver growled and tightened his grip. "Where you're going, there'll be more than enough to go around."
"Prison?" the woman chortled madly. "I think not."
With surprising strength, she tugged lose. She withdrew something from the purse attached to her belt and threw it hard against the ground. A bright flash blinded him and he had to cover his eyes from the light. When he opened them once more, he found himself standing alone atop the roof, with no trace of his enemy to be found.
"Waller seems to believe Carrie skipped town," Diggle announced as he joined Oliver and Felicity in the foundry not thirty minutes later. "Apparently that's what she does, changes scenery when the cops get too close. I think we've seen the last of our Cupid."
"… I don't know about that," Oliver shrugged his eyebrows as he crossed his arms over his wide chest and leaned back against the steel table. He'd seen the intrigue in Cupid's eyes shortly before she'd escaped. He was a challenge to her, a challenge she wanted to conquer and her eyes had betrayed her sentiment. Still, he wasn't sure sharing that with his team was the best course of action tonight.
"How's Laurel?" the blonde asked in a soft voice, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.
"Awake. A bit drowsy, but she's safe and sound in her flat," he answered. Oliver pushed away from the table as he stepped towards the glass case containing his outfit and let the events of the night fall from mind. "How about I suit up and we get to work early tonight?"
"Actually…" Felicity hesitated on the precipice and her bright voice filled their lair. "Could I have the night off?"
"I-what?" Oliver blinked down at the woman by his side. Apart from her vigilance by Barry's comatose bedside almost a year ago, he'd never heard her utter the words.
"Night. Off. I kind of, sort of… have a date. I know what it sounds like and it's not!" she babbled seemingly unstoppable. "It's not that I don't… I just… I just need something that's not unthinkable… right now… you know?"
"Felicity…" Oliver smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder and let it rest there for a few seconds. "You deserve the very best. Go. Have fun. I think Dig and I can manage one night without you."
"Thanks!" she positively beamed up at him as she picked up her purse and jacket from her chair and headed for the stairs. "See you first thing tomorrow!"
The trace of her voice seemed to linger in her wake as the foundry fell into silence without her presence.
"So…" Diggle began and eyed his friend cautiously. "... you still haven't discussed 'It'."
Oliver closed his eyes and shook his head firmly. "There's nothing to discuss, Dig."
The elder man nodded his head slowly, though disbelief shone with the strength of the sun in his dark eyes. "You're still not a very good liar, man."
He patted the younger man's shoulder once before he headed for the rooms in the back to get changed for training. Oliver quietly watched his friend disappear down the hallway and released a heavy breath as soon as he was left alone in the main area.
Oliver felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, gazing down at the unexpected number. He pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"It's Barry... Allen," a familiar, trembling voice filled his ear. Oliver frowned in surprise. Last he'd heard, Barry was still in a coma back in Central City. Barry exhaled and continued, "I woke up... I could use some advice. I'm, eh, about a block from Queen Consolidated. I can see the sign from this rooftop. 22nd Street, I think."
"I'll be right there."
The private jet landed on the small airfield just outside of Starling City when the moon was at its peak on its heavenly throne. The small plane slowly came to a halt beside the parked limousine that had been awaiting its arrival. After another few minutes, the plane engines shut down and the night settled back into its constant drum of existence.
As the heavy door opened and the ladder was lowered, a man stepped out from the inside of the steel beast. He carried himself with trained sophistication as a gentle breeze welcomed him to the city. The dark-haired man buttoned his black suit as he looked about and steadily descended the steps until his feet met the cold asphalt. He breathed in the familiar scents and sighed contently. He was home again.
"I don't know how you convinced me to return here," a young woman's voice filled the air from above. The tone dripped with heavy sarcasm and displeased fatigue, though paradoxically seemed entirely void of emotion at the same time.
Malcolm turned back as he watched his daughter descend the steps and join his side.
Thea wore a navy-blue suit and her curly hair loose around her slim shoulders as she exhaled indifferently. Her eyes remained impassive as she looked about, but Malcolm could see a slight glow ignite in the bottom of her soul.
"Doesn't matter how, honey," the man assured as he opened the backdoor to the limousine and held it open for her. "We're here to stay."
Episode 3 to come "soon"!