Hey, thanks for all the people who follow this regularly now :) I would post more often, but I thought it would be better to have a consistent chapter out every week than a bunch of jumble every few months. This chapter isn't very well edited, so please let me know if I made a mistake(such as misspelling Sara's name).
"Under Smoak-Queen consolidated? Right in the middle of Starling?" We parked in front of the lobby, since we had a special pass. Mom never showed me the foundry on bring-your-kid-to-work day.
"Well," Dad said, getting out of the car, "It used to be in the Glades, back before too many people discovered it. Nobody would expect it to be in the heart of the city."
"How do you keep it from the workers?"
"I have my ways. And your mom. And some friends from Star Labs." He opened up the trunk and unfolded my wheelchair.
"Star Labs has everything."
"They sure do." He started to open the car door, and gave me an odd look. "Tommy, you're going to have to let go of the handle if we want to see the foundry before your mom notices."
It was then I realized that my hands were clenched so tightly around the handle that my knuckles were turning white. I guess I haven't really gotten over my intense fear of cars, yet. I let go. "Sorry."
"It's ok, kid." He opened the car door and lifted me into the wheelchair. "You're going to be too big for this soon. We'll have to make it more wheel-chair accessible."
"Or the nanobots will start to work," I suggested lightly, trying to keep the hopelessness out of my voice. Even my parents were planning for the plausible future that I would be wheelchair bound for the remainder of my life. I was a cripple.
"Yeah," Dad replied weakly.
He rolled me through the halls, and we were greeted as "Mr. Queen and Mr. Queen" by a couple of people in the lobby. Of course everyone knew my dad- he was the husband of the CEO, who wouldn't know Oliver Queen? Not to mention that he was one of the town's most famous rich kids when he came back from an Island. We walked toward an ordinary, gold elevator, and the doors slid shut behind us.
"Nobody but us. This will make things a lot easier." Dad walked up to the glaring yellow lights. "The maximum capacity in this elevator is only eight for a reason. So I can have a nine number code." He punched them in, and instead of going up, we went down.
I don't know how far underground we were. Probably a couple stories. The elevator opened up to an empty room: it looked like a storage room. He rolled me up to a wall and pressed gently on a single brick. A pad came up and asked for a code, which he entered. "Can't be too careful," he remarked as the wall opened up. I nodded slightly, my mind somewhere else completely.
I wasn't sure what to expect when the lights turned on, but it wasn't this. Below the florescent glow was a sleek black floor, topped with sleek tables and several computer monitors. In one corner was several glass cases, holding the uniforms of the Black Canary, Green Arrow, and Speedy. In another was a training center- a punching bag, a pull-up bar, a target. I don't understand how my dad has the will to ever leave this place.
To my left, I noticed a hallway. I wondered what was through it.
"Cool, huh?" My dad beckoned me over with a wave of his hand. I wheeled myself to the training area, and Dad dragged a stool over. He lifted me on, and pulled a bow and arrow out of a drawer.
"Woah. Really?" I looked up at him, grinning like an idiot, and carefully took the bow from him.
"Ok, so hold it in your left hand, and outstretch your arm with the string by the inside of your elbow. Yeah, like that. Now here's the arrow." My heart was racing now, and he slid it into my right hand until my fingers held onto the feathers. "Hold the fletching, or the feather part, with your two fingers, hold it back against the bow. Think about the path you want it to take and-"
Dad's phone rang. I lowered the bow, the moment ruined by the sudden interruption. He picked it up, and his face filled with dread.
"Your mom has access to 24-hour surveillance. And a new thing, she gets alerted when someone enters. I forgot about that." He finally answered, and took a deep breath. "Hi sweetie!" he said as nicely as possible.
"PUT. THE BOW. DOWN." I could hear Mom's voice on the other line clearly. I looked up at the nearest camera I could find, smiling a little more hopefully than I should have. "I WILL GO DOWN THERE." I immediately dropped the bow and my wicked grin.
"Come on, City, we're just having some fun," Dad protested.
As I heard my mom begin to go off about how just because I knew now didn't mean I could have access to his life, or that I could get hurt, or some other junk I've heard before in different context. As they began to argue over my safety, I awkwardly hoisted my way onto my wheelchair and began to explore.
First I got a closer look at their uniforms. I never knew the Black Canary wore a wig! Well, I guess I should have figured it out when I heard that she was Auntie Laurel. I touched the glass on the Green Arrow, and studied it, from the leather body right down to the cotton hood. Interesting that it's cotton- it's not very water proof.
How many people got to see these uniforms up close?
How many people were related to a super hero?
How did people get like this?
I shouldn't have allowed myself to daydream, or hold that bow and arrow. I could never do what my dad does, or the Flash, and I don't have my mom's brains, or Auntie Laurel's argumentative skills. I can't even play basketball anymore… I can't even be an everyday hero.
I backed up, and rolled over down the hallway. Most of the doors were locked: I wondered why. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be here, and my dad, or, worse, my mom, was on their way to come and yell at me. But one of the doors wasn't locked. I opened it.
Inside was the car that crashed into us two years ago. A white pick-up truck, doors pulled off and leather seats dug up, as if someone was looking for something. How the heck they get it down there? And what were they looking for? Something about the accident?
Unless my suspicions were correct: it wasn't an accident.
You can only stare at the physical item that ruined your life for so long before someone calls you back again. "Tommy?"
I rolled out of the room, shut off the lights, and closed the door. Dad came into the hallway, just in time. "You didn't go into any of those rooms, did you?"
I could have confronted him now, about who did this to me. "No. They were all locked."