Chapter Three: Give Up the Fight

"Dad, if I could offer you a little advice? If you want to date the guy, don't act like you're going to kill him."

Peter nearly choked on his drink. He was taking Jamie out for a lunch. He cleared his throat and looked across the table at his daughter.

"Sweetheart, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Dad, I'm talking about Vince. First, I saw the way you looked at his twin last night before you knew who he was. And then today…"

"I was merely caught off guard. I mean, the man blames me for that nasty business of him nearly getting killed, rightly, of course," he added. "But I think you must be imagining things if you think that I…" he trailed off.

"Whatever you say," Jamie said skeptically. "Just don't try to have him killed," again, she added silently, remembering the assassins her father had previously used.

~VF~

It was stupid, Vince knew, to don the costume and go traipsing across the rooftops of Starling City when his career prospects hinged on his supposed anti-vigilante attitude. Doubly stupid, considering the tales of Starling's own vigilante, who might not be interested in making a newcomer feel welcome. But he couldn't help himself.

The one constant he'd held onto while his life had gone through one upheaval after another was that Peter Fleming could not be trusted. Once upon a time, Vince had relied on Orwell to keep an eye on the villain and let him know what nefarious schemes he was up to. And no wonder she hadn't told him the truth; if he had known, would he have trusted her to report on her father?

It was a moot point now, as she'd evidently taken it into her head to forgive her father his trespasses. He didn't have her knack for hacking, or else he'd have changed her old blog to read: 'Orwell is NOT Watching.'

Yes, he was bitter about it.

Why wouldn't he be? Orwell had just as much a hand in getting him 'killed' as her father had, when you came down to it. He'd never held it against her because she had always been on his side, not her father's. Now that he'd lost her as an ally against Chess… He'd just have to carry on his crusade without his partner.

And so he leaped onto another roof, still on the lookout for his enemy, more eager than he'd like to admit for a confrontation.

The one he got that night wasn't what he'd had in mind.

~PF~

It had rained briefly during the afternoon. The night sky was clear, but puddles had remained. The billionaire trying to navigate between them was alone in the hotel parking lot—or so he thought. A hooded figure above Peter caught his attention and it wasn't the one he was accustomed to seeing. The vigilante dropped to the ground a few yards in front of him before speaking.

"Peter Fleming, you have failed this city."

An arrow was fitted to a bow and aimed.

Before it could be released, a midnight blue cape wrapped around the bow and plucked it out of gloved hands, leaving both the Hood and his target temporarily stunned.

"You must be the Hood," the Cape rasped.

"Who are you—" Queen started to ask, before he was interrupted.

"Did you just save my life, again?" Fleming called out.

"You're welcome," the masked man spat. "Don't rub it in." He wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this. He no longer needed to keep the villain alive in order to clear his name. It must be that he knew Jamie would want her father alive, he told himself. Besides which—

"What makes you think you have the right to play judge, jury and executioner?" the Palm City vigilante asked the archer.

"I'm carrying out my mission," Oliver rasped back. "Don't interfere. I need to bring Fleming to justice."

Peter looked between the two vigilantes and shook his head. First Faraday has a doppelganger, now the Cape? Well, that was an exaggeration, but there were some similarities between the two costumes, chief among them that both of the young men had hoods pulled up over their faces. On the other hand, if you were concerned about materials, the Hood evidently shared Chess' preference for leather rather than the Cape's for silk.

"Sorry, but I've got dibs on that. Leave him to me," Faraday demanded, the blue eyes behind the black mask gleaming.

"I can't do that," the Hood stated.

"Have it your way then," the Cape answered.

Next thing Peter knew, the others were locked in hand-to-hand combat. He saw the Cape use the Hood's bow against him—not by firing an arrow, but by trying to bludgeon him with it. The Hood managed to get in a few good punches for his part, but the Cape kicked his legs out from under him, and the emerald archer lost his balance on the wet ground. The Cape took advantage of this; dropping the bow, he lifted the Hood upside down…

Then he froze; he blinked, staring down at his opponent. He barely registered Fleming approaching them in his peripheral vision.

"Is that…?" Vince began.

"Oliver Queen?" Fleming was incredulous. Now that his namesake had fallen back, the Hood's features were easily discernible, leaving no question of his identity. He wore no mask over his face, merely some green greasepaint about his eyes. Perhaps, when wearing the hood, the paint underneath helped to accentuate shadows, but it was currently doing the young billionaire no favors.

Queen thrashed, trying to attack the Cape, succeeding only in getting dropped. He righted himself, facing the bewildered out-of-towners. He held his now recovered weapon at his side.

"Queen," Fleming repeated. "That explains why I've been attacked within thirty-six hours of coming to this city, but neither the Queens nor the Merlyns have had a visit from the infamous Hood."

"It's not like that," Oliver scowled. "I'm not playing favorites; I visit those who deserve it."

"Sure you do," the Cape rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't think Peter had had it coming, but Vince wouldn't expect the friends and family of the Queen Consolidated heir to be amongst the man's victims. "What are you thinking, going around without wearing a mask? Did it never occur to you that hoods fall down?" 'You idiot' was implied.

In the beginning of his career as the Cape, Vince had made the same mistake (only he hadn't bothered with greasepaint.) But he'd wizened up and fashioned a mask out of an old leather pilot helmet in time to save his secret. When he thought about the night his hood had slipped off while Fleming held him underneath a runaway train, he was grateful he'd taken the precaution. He still remembered feeling the engineer's eyes roving his face and hair, as the madman tried to puzzle out who was underneath the mask.

Meanwhile, Queen was doing his own reminiscing about his time on the island and one of the lessons he'd been taught there.

"What occurred to me," Queen replied, "was that a mask doesn't hide your eyes. Once you've revealed those, you're finished."

The Cape swallowed nervously. Queen might not have recognized him, but Fleming had stared him down so many times… What if he did figure it out one of these days?

"Bet you're sorry you made fun of my contacts now," Fleming teased him, confusing Queen. Chess' contacts concealed his eyes alright, but the Cape considered the pupils shaped as chess pieces further proof of the man's mental illness.

"What contacts?" Oliver asked, showing the others he didn't know Chess' secret identity.

"You don't know," the Cape shook his head. "If you don't know, why were you trying to kill him?" Before he'd learned Fleming's secret, he'd thought he was a decent man. Hell, he'd been on the verge of working for him.

"I wasn't trying to kill him!" Queen protested. "The arrows were just to ensure his cooperation."

"Translation: He was going to assault me, threaten me, and commit extortion," Peter explained for his hero's benefit. "He doesn't kill royalty; he only slaughters pawns." He turned towards Oliver. "Your targets' bodyguards, thugs if you prefer, they're the disposable ones, correct?"

"Fuck you," Queen spat. "You read a few headlines and you think you know who I am? I am trying to save this city—"

The sound of police sirens approaching interrupted Queen's holier-than-thou spiel. The Cape took the opportunity to throw a smoke pellet. When the smoke cleared, he and Fleming were gone.

Oliver decided not to stick around to see where Starling City's finest were headed. He replaced the hood back over his face and went back to his hideout.

~VF~

Up in Fleming's hotel room, Vince released the older man's arm.

"Ever my hero," Peter purred.

"Ever the ungrateful jackass," the Cape snapped. "If Queen doesn't know who you are, why is he after you?"

"Perhaps I fit the profile of his victims," Fleming shrugged. "Worried about me?" he leered.

"In your dreams," the Cape approached the window, assessed the drop from that height, and decided not to push his luck for the evening. Using the cape and another smoke bomb to dramatize his exit, he headed for the stairs. As he headed for the lobby, he made a mental note to give Jamie a call. If anyone could find out what the Hood was up to, it was her.

~QL~

Meanwhile:

In a far less affluent part of the city, Quentin Lance stepped into the room where Adam Hunt had met his end. The former billionaire had been one of the Hood's first targets when the vigilante had made his debut appearance months ago. Tonight he'd been taken out with a single arrow, calling to mind a certain someone's M.O.

But it didn't fit. For starters, the arrow wasn't the right color. It was black instead of green. And the Hood's pattern was to back off after he got the funds from his victims, most of the guys he killed were ones that stood in between him and the ones he was really after. That meant only one thing.

Lance's report would state that they had a copycat on their hands. Just perfect. As if the original wasn't enough of a headache, there was now another person to track down. If, as the detective suspected, another archer had taken it into his mind to frame the Hood for additional murders, there were going to be more bodies cropping up with black arrows in them.

Everyone the Hood had ever confronted was now in danger.

Author's Note: So as you can see, the fic is currently set in an AU of "Year's End," although it's not around the holidays in the story.

Thanks to those who reviewed and to those who have added the story to their alert and/or favorites lists.

Chapter title is from Green Day's "21 Guns."