Disclaimer: Not mine
It's the Kylia fanfiction drinking game! Take a shot every time I use the word 'thug' and then you win if you still have a liver by the time you're done with the chapter.
(Alright so I don't actually use it that much, but it sure feels like I overused it. It just felt like the best available word sometimes.)
The Siege of Starling City
By Kylia
Chapter 4: Biggest Gun Usually Loses
When I started out in the game, every villain was handing out guns to their henchmen like candy, figuring the more bullets you fired, the faster you killed the hero. By the time I was on my third boss, they'd decided it was down to who had the best karate moves or some BS like that. By my tenth, it was all about taking crazy drugs and hoping you got superpowers out of the deal.
-Excerpt from "Confessions of a Professional Henchman," by Rick Montel, published by Simon and Schuster, 2063
CEO's Office, Queen Consolidated, Starling City
October 29th, 2013
"Shouldn't your boyfriend be here for this?" Rochev asked pointedly. The other woman's expression was too well controlled for Laurel to get a read on her. It probably did her well in negotiations, but it was annoying. She'd convinced Rochev to have the meeting here with Blood, but it remained to be seen if she would accept whatever terms Blood might want to set on this deal.
"Oliver gave me full authority to negotiate on behalf of Queen Consolidated on this particular subject," Laurel pulled a piece of paper out of her file portfolio, handing it to Rochev. Oliver, being Oliver, hadn't thought of the idea on her own, but Laurel had worried Rochev might try to play that card, so she'd typed the letter up and had Oliver sign it.
Rochev looked the letter over, raising an eyebrow, then nodded. "Since it is for charity-related purposes, I suppose this makes sense." She handed the paper back to Laure. "Your idea?"
"What makes you say that?" Laurel could guess, but she was curious what was going through Rochev's mind. Her reputation as a corporate raider suggested she was pretty heatless and career-focused, but equally made clear that for all her cold, unreadable demeanor, she was able to own a negotiation. And - well, there was no denying the woman was smart.
It really would be easier if Rochev was an idiot, but then she wouldn't be in this position. Oliver and Laurel had plans for what they could do with Queen Consolidated, to help the city, but it was hard to do with Rochev in place.
"Your boyfriend might be competent at schmoozing at corporate events, and better than expected at holding onto this company, but he is not known for his forethought about the little things." Rochev ticked off, "You, on the other hand, were on track to be a lawyer. And by all accounts, you would have been a meticulous one."
"You've done your research."
"Of course." Before Rochev could say more, Oliver's secretary opened the door to let Blood in.
"Alderman, thank you so much for coming again." Laurel stood and walked over to him, shaking his hand. "This is Isabel Rochev, the Co-CEO of Queen Consolidated." She introduced Rochev, who politely extended her own hand for a quick, firm shake.
"Co-CEO?" The Alderman raised an eyebrow. "I'm not an expert on corporate org charts, but that seems... unusual."
"It is. But it's very uncommon for two people to both own exactly 50% of the voting stock in a company," Rochev nodded. "Has Miss Lance explained what this meeting is about?" She gestured for Blood to sit, clearly trying to take control of the meeting.
"She mentioned wanting to do something to help with the gun violence in the Glades," Blood pointedly didn't sit for several seconds, before finally doing so, and then Laurel took a seat next to Rochev. "By your presence here, I'm assuming it has something to do with Queen Consolidated, not just the Charitable Trust."
"It does," Laurel cut in. She pulled open her portfolio and pulled out three copies of the plan, handing one to Blood and one to Rochev. "I'd like to have Queen Consolidated and the Queen Family Charitable Trust partner to do a gun buyback in the Glades. Your support would make it more likely to be a success, Alderman."
Blood looked over the first page, while Rochev was already moving forward, looking for the costs. Laurel went on, "Given time, the Trust will have the funds to do things like this on it's own, but between other commitments, we don't. Unfortunately, the Glades can't wait a few months for investments to come through or capital to free itself up."
"And the fact that having Queen Consolidated attach its name to this will help rally your stock prices and improve public confidence has nothing to do with it?" Blood looked at Laurel accusingly.
"Corporations supporting charitable work does have a long history, Alderman." Laurel pointed out.
"One hand washes the other, you mean," Blood noted sourly.
"You say that like it's corrupt, Alderman," Rochev cut in. "It's simply good business. A deal where everyone gets something out of it." She cocked an eyebrow carefully.
"I'm not interested in just creating an ineffective photo-op for your company to wave around, pretend it wasn't involved in what happened last summer," Blood countered. "My constituents might not be interested in burning Queen Consolidated to the ground, but you're not a particularly popular company in the Glades."
"You don't want to be seen being too close to the company, or to the Queen Family, publicly." Laurel had figured this was where things were going to. It was one thing for the Alderman to associate with the company, with Oliver, in galas or other relatively private social events, but a big public collaboration for all his constituents to see?
"I wouldn't have said it to you quite like that, but essentially, yes," Blood agreed.
"If Queen Consolidated is going to finance this venture, we will need proper recognition," Rochev said flatly. "What matters more to you? Spiting Queen Consolidated, or help-"
Laurel cut in before Rochev could finish that thought, seeing Blood's expression quickly turn indignant. "Ms. Rochev, the Alderman's concerns are legitimate. Political capital is a pretty volatile currency, and the returns on investment aren't always as predictable as they can be in the world of business. Equally, Alderman, Queen Consolidated does have an ethical obligation to be a responsible steward for its money."
She pulled out another piece of paper, handing it to Blood. "Even after everything that's happened since the summer, five thousand people in this city are directly employed by Queen Consolidated or it's subsidiaries, and another fifteen thousand are at least partially employed by work contracted out. The net economic value to the Glades alone that Queen Consolidate offers is quite substantive, all told," she handed him another paper, pointing to the number. "Helping Queen Consolidated keep it's stock price afloat does help your constituents... indirectly."
"Very indirectly sometimes. I do know Ms. Rochev's reputation," Blood said, turning to her. "I do do my research."
"I do what's best for the situation. I didn't aim to take Queen Consolidated just to hollow the company out," Rochev countered. Laurel considered those words, finding them curious. Would she really have tried to do right by the company if Oliver had lost the contest for the buyout? Or would she have just plundered the company and moved on, like Stellmoor usually did?
For that matter, I haven't really heard much about her reporting to her nominal bosses at Stellmoor. Laurel made a mental note to look into that. Was she just being given wide latitude, or was she playing her own game at the expense of her bosses? Or just quiet about reporting to them?
"Yes, it's indirect and if I was asking you to give Queen Consolidated an undeserved tax break or city subsidy, I'd understand you saying no. But this gun buyback helps your constituents directly and - by helping keep Queen Consolidated on an even keel in these times - helps them indirectly."
Laurel looked at Blood pointedly. "So the only legitimate question left is - what sort of level of clear QC involvement will you be happy with that Ms. Rochev will be happy with?"
"Miss Lance, I hope I never have to run against you for anything," Blood said after a long moment, offering her a small smirk, then he nodded. "Alright. I'm sold on the idea, let's get to the specifics."
The Foundary, Starling City
October 30th, 2013
"You found something?"
"I did, and Felicity worked that into a lead," Diggle nodded. "The bad news is the Mayor does have military grade hardware, not just high grade civilian guns. The good news - well, I'll let you take this one, Felicity," Diggle gestured to the hacker, who Oliver had to admit looked almost ready to burst with whatever good news she had.
"The guns were stolen as a whole crate from Camp Kirby - Army CID doesn't have any idea who stole it yet - but each crate comes with a tracker. One just like this," she gestured to a small electronic device on the table next to her, a green light glowing softly from it.
"If it was as simple as using the tracker-" Oliver started, but Felicity shook her head.
"It's not. The Mayor did turn it off, but - and here's the fun part - guess which company made this? Hint, it has two CEOs," Felicity sat back down in front of the computer. "And according to internal company files, there's something that QC kept hidden from the military - when broadcast with the right subform wave frequency, the tracker turns back on."
And who was CEO when we hid that from them? Knowing what he did about his dad now, Oliver wouldn't put it past his father to have hidden that, but he had trouble thinking Walter would have done something like that.
Then again, Walter hadn't been all that in control of the company, as it turned out.
"Is QC going to be liable for that little secret?" Laurel asked. "I mean, how did the military not notice?"
"Well, the military didn't plan on turning the trackers off, so I don't think it ever came up," Felicity shrugged. "They work perfectly otherwise, and I won't tell the DoD if you guys won't," she kept typing away. "One thing to know - once we turn the tracker back on, the light goes on."
"And if someone sees the tracker on, when it's supposed to be off, they might move the goods," Diggle finished Felicity's implication. It was obvious, but a good point to make anyway.
"So not a lot of time," Oliver agreed. He turned to Laurel, "You've been trying to find the Mayor's new hideout, since the last time he tried to pull a trap on you. How much have you narrowed it down?"
"Less than I'd like. His territory has a lot of abandoned buildings, especially lately," Laurel shook her head. "Still, we can get close." She moved towards her gear, and Oliver pulled his bow out of it's box. She looked over her shoulder at Felicity. "Stand by, be ready to reactivate the tracker."
"Got it," Felicity nodded.
Abandoned Nightclub, The Glades, Starling City
October 31st, 2013
I can't believe I was this close to finding him. Laurel shook her head a little as she berated herself for not checking this place sooner. The nightclub - never one of the hot, happening clubs like Verdant or Fuller's club Poison (though Verdant had dethroned it as the hottest place in the city) - had stood abandoned and empty since the Undertaking, and it was one of the places Laurel had considered for the Mayor's new hideout, but she had figured the location wasn't central enough in the gang leader's territory. She would have checked it anyway soon enough, but other places had been prioritized.
"...just lost the signal," Felicity said quietly over the coms. "He found the tracker,"
Laurel didn't bother saying anything back as she crept down the hallway. Oliver would move first, shooting down from above and then she'd come at them from ground level while they were all aiming up top. The Mayor might - might - have been able to get earplugs for himself, but he wasn't likely to have enough for his whole gang.
He wasn't at the level of real organized crime, or even well-financed thugs like Brick and Vanch.
Yet.
"...the tracker was off, man," one of the Mayor's thugs was protesting.
"So what, it just turned back on on it's own, is that it?" The Mayor demanded, and Laurel peered around the corner to see him holding the thug who'd protested at gunpoint. "That's not a thing that happens. Which means you screwed up," The Mayor pressed the gun against the chest of his goon, the others getting out of the line of fire.
"I can't have that sort of weakness in my organization. So give me one good reason not to cut it out."
I have one: Your organization is about to be a hell of a lot smaller.
As if on cue, Oliver chimed in with his own answer - an arrow came out from above, hitting the thug at gunpoint with an arrow, the force of it sending him spinning back, away from the gun, and Laurel smirked as everyone started firing upwards, backs to her.
Laurel activated her device on a timer, then slid it across the floor into the main room. A moment later, it started screaming, and sure enough the majority of the people in the room were grabbing at their ears, trying in vain to block the sound, glass breaking all around the room.
Laurel didn't give anyone a chance to recover - the truth was that as loud as the device was, it wouldn't keep everyone down for the count forever, and it didn't run forever. But it didn't need to. Laurel dashed into the room, kicking one of the Mayor's gang in the back, sending him sprawling onto the stage, the headless mannequin falling over under the collison, and then she pulled out her tonfa and set to work on another two thugs, sweeping one's legs out from under him.
She knocked the other's gun from his hand, hooked her arm around his, spun him and held his arm in place, the crack enough to have him crying out and staggering back, out for the count for the moment.
Oliver dropped down from the upper level, shooting another target in the leg, but Laurel didn't spare him any focus as she caught a glimpse of the Mayor running for another exit, shouting at two of his men. They hesitated for a moment, then fell in behind him, aiming their guns right at Laurel and opening fire.
Laurel was already moving as they started aiming, dropping below a table and knocking it over - but the wood didn't offer much protection and she was already moving on as bullets started to shred it. Her sonic device shut off, and Laurel jumped, vaulting close towards the blocking thugs, a bullet grazing her side - she didn't think it actually penetrated the suit, but then another hit her leg, and as she landed on it, she nearly bit her lip bloody as it almost caved on her, but she managed to stay on her feet long enough to deal with the two men - the first she threw off balance with an uppercut, then the other she grabbed by the ears, drove his face down onto her knee and sent sprawling back, his nose broken and bloody. Laurel didn't let them have a moment to breathe and smashed the other one in the face again, this time with her tonfa, then quickly hit the insides of his arms, not enough to really hurt but more than enough to leave him reeling, utterly open for one more punch to his throat that left him gasping. She drove her elbow into his gut and knocked him to the ground.
She looked past the two fallen foes, but the Mayor was gone, the double doors still moving a little from the force and speed of his fight.
She turned back to Oliver, who was at the crate of weapons. All the other thugs were either groaning and unable to move - or too afraid too - unconscious, or had already fled. He picked up her sonic device and tossed it to her lightly. Laurel caught it and set it back on her belt, moving over to the crate.
"We're done," Laurel murmured in the comms. "Weapons secure, Mayor's gone." They couldn't just leave the guns here as they were - even if the cops came, it wouldn't be quick enough. She gestured to Oliver, who kicked the crate to the far end of the room, away from anyone left in the abandoned club, and planted an explosive arrow on a timer, right in the middle of the guns. The charge wouldn't be enough to cause a major explosion, but it would damage the guns enough to make them unusable or nearly so.
"Fifteen seconds on the clock," Oliver muttered and they ran back down the hallway she'd come in through, towards the exit.
"No one's called 911 about all that shooting, and from the sound of police chatter, they're still staying out of the Glades tonight, as usual," Felicity told them over the comms, once they were safely outside and moving towards their motorcycles.
"The Mayor ran with his tail between his legs, but he has more people than the ones we saw here," Laurel shook her head. "He's not out for the count."
"But he's going to have to make a show of things," Oliver pointed out, then frowned, another thought clearly occurring - and one Laurel did not want to hear, "He's going to hit the gun buyback."
"Guns, and a crowd for him to play to. If he wants to make a big splash to make up for this, it has everything he needs," Diggle agreed.
"We have to cancel it," Oliver started, but Laurel shook her head.
"Not a chance. There's no way in hell I'm going to be able to get Rochev and Blood to agree to another one, especially not if this one goes wrong," Laurel countered. "The police will be there, that's the first thing we arranged. The SCPD needs the good press as much as Blood and QC do."
"You can't just let people come to the buyback knowing it's going to be hit," Diggle countered.
"The people of the Glades know that any day is the day they could get mugged, shot, stabbed or worse. Anyone who will be coming to the buyback will be doing so knowing they're taking a risk," Laurel wouldn't call her tone pleading, but she needed to keep Oliver onboard with this plan.
"The people of the Glades need to play a role in taking back their community from the Mayor too." She didn't say his name aloud, but her tone carried it at the end nonetheless. "That's always been true." Laurel went on, raising the pitch, though not the volume, of her voice, trying - and failing - to stop from getting worked up.
"There's a difference between the daily danger of living in the Glades and painting a target on people's backs," Diggle shot back.
"I'm not getting anywhere in figuring out who at Camp Kirby might have helped the Mayor get his guns," Felicity added. "I can give the cops an anonymous tip or five that something might happen at the buyback?" She offered, her voice pitching up with a hopeful tone.
"I doubt that will work," Laurel admitted. "It might be broad daylight, but there's no reason the Black Canary can't show-"
"We both have to be there for the cameras," Oliver countered. "You already sold me on that part earlier."
I did, didn't I? Laurel cursed her past self for the successful argument. But she had been right then - Oliver needed to be there to help make sure QC got the benefit it needed, and Laurel needed to be there as head of the Charitable Trust. She didn't have a lot of staff - couldn't afford it - and she had to be hands on for something this high profile.
Someday, it'll be a lot more routine. Laurel was hoping that the Trust could hold buybacks regularly, because she knew it would be a running battle to keep the neighborhood free of illegal arms.
So she wouldn't need to be there for every single one.
But she would for this first one.
"We'll just have to prepare, then." Laurel shook her head, "We cancel this on short notice, it's going to undermine things with QC, with Blood and it's going to mean the Glades doesn't get rid of guns it doesn't need."
"There's going to be TV cameras there, right?" Felicity double-checked, and Laurel responded in the affirmative. "Then I can use that to find out where he's getting his guns."
"I'm not following,," Oliver said slowly, skeptically.
"From what you've told me, Canary, nobody knows the Mayor's name, or even really where he came from. He just showed up two years ago and started building a gang."
"That's what they say, yeah," Laurel agreed.
"Well, he shows up for the cameras, I can run his face, and find out who he is. The Mayor isn't rich enough to be buying these guns, especially not with the Arrow putting almost every arms dealer who pokes his nose into the city in the hospital or a prison cell."
"You think he's got someone at Camp Kirby..." Diggle was the one who spoke first, but Laurel was reaching the conclusion at the same as well, and from the look on his face, Oliver was too.
"Family, friend, something like that, yeah. Have I mentioned how hanging around with you guys has made me think more about these things than I ever wanted to?" Felicity added. "No? Well, it's true, but I might as well make use of it."
"I still think it's too risky," Diggle opined, but Laurel ignored him, looking Oliver in the eye.
"Risky or not, it's the only available option, on multiple counts."
"Canary's right," Oliver finally agreed, inhaling. "We'll just have to try to make sure we're prepared for things to go wrong."
Underpass Near the Glades
November 2nd, 2013
They'd prepared. Enough that Laurel had been pretty sure they were covered. OIiver had agreed with her. No plan was perfect, but they'd hopefully arranged things so no one would get seriously hurt.
No one was actually dead, at least.
At least not yet.
Things had started as planned, people were turning in guns, they were up to 200 guns by the start of the third hour, and the clip only seemed ready to go up.
The Mayor - as expected - had shown up, and that's where things hadn't gone according to plan.
Because rather than running for cover like a reasonable civilian, Alderman Blood had decided to take this, of all moments, to make a show of standing up to the criminals ruining the Glades. Oliver gave him points for bravery, and this was the sort of thing they needed to happen, but had it had to happen right then?
'You don't speak for these people!' Blood has shouted, drawing attention to himself - and gunfire. But with someone standing up to him, the Mayor started shooting. The police fired back, and Oliver had managed to tackle Blood to the ground, at least stopping him taking more than a bullet to the arm.
The indiscriminate spray as a result of the cops firing back and the brief window the Mayor was there - he only managed to snag a few guns, at least - meant that was what most of the injuries were. Grazing shots, injured arms and legs
But a few others were in critical condition, bullets in their guts, one who had gotten hit in the upper thigh, with a nicked artery.
Oliver had authorized QC to pay for everyone's immediate medical care, something Rochev wouldn't be able to undo now that it happened, but he was sure she'd give him grief for it when he next saw her.
He'd dodged several calls from her already in the aftermath.
But, at least the trap went off, Oliver clenched his jaw. He looked over at Laurel, who was crouched next to him on the roof as they watched the military convoy approach. Felicity had used his face to find his name - Xavier Reed. And connected him to Camp Kirby by a foster brother, Ezra Barnes.
Oliver was curious why this Barnes, who had served three tours in Iraq, would suddenly start supplying a bottom-feeding gangster like Reed, even if they had been foster brothers, but it was ultimately immaterial.
The weapons Barnes was transporting tonight were even more dangerous than the last ones he'd snuck Reed.
As the trucks came through the underpass, the Mayor stepped into view, standing in the middle of the road like someone just asking to be run over. But the convoy stopped in front of him, and more of the Mayor's men stepped out, moving towards the trucks, as a driver stepped out of each.
"They're with me," Barnes gestured to the other two soldiers. He gestured to the back of a truck, "these ones weren't." The implication was obvious, but the casual admission of murder - unsurprisingly - had Reed laughing and embracing his brother.
"You're done being all you can be," Reed told Barnes, "With what you're bringing... you and me, we're gonna own this town." Barnes handed him one of the guns, and Reed's expression grew wide, somewhere between a kid at Christmas and a dog staring at a juicy steak.
"Now this... this is what I'm talking about!" He hefted the weapon a little, getting the feel for it. "Load 'em up!" The last of his men pulled out of an alley with a large truck, two more coming out of the cab, and another from the back.
Ten people total, counting Barnes and his fellow soon to be former soldiers.
That'll be everyone.
Laurel didn't bother to open with her device this time - she just somersaulted down behind one of the soldiers, hit him on the side of the head with one tonfa and at his elbow with the other, stunning his arm a moment and then she hit him twice across the face, sending him sprawling, out for a moment and she was onto the next. Barnes and Reed turned, but Reed shouted at his men to keep loading.
Oliver didn't give them a chance - he fired three arrows in quick succession, the first and third finding home in the shoulders of a thug, the second missing by the dumb luck of his target turning at just the right moment, shoulder barely an inch from whereit had been, but just enough.
Bunched up close to the Mayor as she was, the thugs couldn't shoot at Laurel, but they could shoot at Oliver, and as they fired, Oliver dropped down from the roof, rolling and coming up in front of them, punching one in the face and kicking another in the gut - he pulled the arrow from another's shoulder and drove it into his other shoulder as he tried to aim his gun anyway.
No one could get a clear shot at either of them, and Oliver didn't let them have a moment, shooting another arrow in one thug's leg with a smooth motion, and pivoting to hit one coming from behind across the arm with his bow, sending him staggering back a half-step at an angle - it left his chest wide open, and Oliver gave him a punch to the gut and the throat.
The melee was short, and brutal, with their targets needing to be knocked down more than once but soon enough, they were all knocked out or down, groaning and unable to get back up yet - if at all, in the case of a few with broken or injured limbs.
Oliver noticed Barnes clutching between his legs as he tried to curl into a fetal ball, but with one arm broken, it was rather difficult. Laurel watched Oliver's gaze, and answered the unvoiced question:
"He made a comment about my outfit," Laurel offered. "Nothing too permanent." Oliver looked at the fallen criminals, then realized that the Mayor wasn't among them.
"Reed-"
"He went over to where-" Laurel started, then the Mayor spoke from behind them, his ego getting the better of him again - if he'd been smart about not showing up for the TV cameras...
"You two like old school weapons. I can respect that," the Mayor was raising his voice, not quite shouting. He walked a few steps towards them, but still further away than they could get to him before he fired the grenade launcher under the barrel of his gun.
His tone actually did sound like he meant it when he said 'respect'.
"Must take some serious skill, using a bow or those... whatever you call them," he gestured at Laurel with the gun. "Me, I'm a simple guy. I like the bang, I like the boom. Here's something your gear can't do."
Oliver fired an arrow at the same time Reed fired the grenade, and halfway between them, the two connected. Even bracing for it and turning away, the force of the blast had Oliver flying back and landing on his ass, his bow flying out of his hands.
Ears ringing, blinking against the flash, Oliver saw Laurel climbing to her feet first as he struggled onto her knees. His bow was by her feet, and with a quick kick upwards, she grabbed it, running towards Reed as he started to shoot, weaving away from the fire, diving and grabbing an arrow from the ground.
She didn't stop moving and with a motion almost - but not quite - as Oliver's own skill with the bow, she fired, the arrow connecting not with Reed himself, but the sharpened metal hitting the barrel of the gun from the side, puncturing it.
Oliver found his footing and moved towards the Mayor's truck, making sure it was empty, knowing Laurel had the man in hand now that he was cornered.
"Hah! Do your worst, bitch!" Reed shouted defiantly, and Oliver looked to see Laurel had him in a chokehold from behind, her other hand pinning one arm hard enough to twist it entirely out of the socket if she needed to. "You don't have the guts to kill me."
"I don't need to. Iron Heights is full of little tin gods like you," Laurel snapped, and pulled her elbow in over his neck tight, watching as he lost consciousness, letting him drop.
"Felicity, are the police on their way?"
"Two minutes, give or take," the hacker replied over the comms.
Oliver looked at the trucks, loaded with weapons and sitting there.
"Warn us when we're at a minute," Oliver said, "Can't leave these things unattended for long."
"The Mayor's been recalled, I think he'll be reading the returns from a cell by the time he wakes up," Laurel chuckled to herself, though it took Oliver a moment to get the joke. Laurel tossed him his bow, which he caught and then retrieved her dropped tonfa, moments before Felicity warned them they were almost out of time.
As the police sirens grew louder in the distance, Oliver and Laurel were already vanishing down an alley.
CEO's Office, Queen Consolidated, Starling City
November 3rd, 2013
"...in other news, the Queen Consolidated sponsored Gun Buyback, now coming off it's second day, is credited with getting over eight hundred guns off the streets of the Glades. Although the event was interrupted by the gang leader calling himself the Mayor yesterday, head of the Queen Family Charitable Trust, Laurel Lance, insisted on re-opening the event today.
The Buyback has been received with some controversy in the Glades, given Queen Consolidated's role in the terrorist attack known as the Undertaking, but when asked by reporters yesterday, Alderman Sebastian Blood had this to say:
'I won't pretend I'm thrilled about all the good press the Queen name is getting from this, but Oliver Queen is trying to help, and he's been trying to help ever since the Undertaking. More than I can say about a lot of people in this city.'
"Not the most glowing of recommendations, I admit," Oliver heard Blood say from behind him, and Oliver turned after muting the news report, seeing the Alderman. He had one arm in a sling, but he seemed otherwise fine.
"In my defense," the politician added with a smile that actually seemed genuine, "I didn't know you'd save my life an hour from then."
"I just did what anyone should have done," Oliver shook his head. "And compared to our first conversation..." he offered Blood a small smile, and held out a hand so he could shake Blood's good one. "I'm just sorry I couldn't pull you down sooner."
Blood scoffed, waving his hand dismissively once the handshake was done. "You did what you could." He chuckled a little, "Besides, getting shot standing up for your constituents? It's not a strategy I'd ever recommend trying on purpose, but it does do wonders for your approval ratings."
"Useful to know," Oliver nodded. "I just acted on instinct,"
"Your instinct was to risk your life to save mine. That says a lot about you." Blood said softly. "I owe you." He held up his hand, palm out, "I do. Don't try to pretend otherwise."
Oliver looked the other man over, seeing the resolve in his eyes. Blood was a politician, and by all accounts, a consummate one. But he believed in his mission to help his constituents.
"Alright. Well, how about you pay me back by considering a career change?" Oliver suggested. Before Blood could respond, Oliver went on: "Last I heard, the position of 'Mayor of the Glades' opened up." There'd been a report on the arrest of the Mayor earlier, with the SCPD trying to take full credit, but the local reporters weren't buying it.
Blood chuckled darkly. "Is that another endorsement? You and your friend Tommy Merlyn really do see the world differently than your parents, don't you?"
"Well, I think in the case of Tommy, he only endorsed you in that interview because it would annoy you." Oliver felt a slight twinge at the mention of his friend's name. They hadn't spoken since Tommy had shown up at that fundraiser. "But he cares about the city - and you do too. For what it's worth, you'd have my vote."
"There is more than one way to save a city, Oliver," Blood shook his head. "Mayor? I tried running, I'd have every wealthy family in the city - hell, the state - crawling out of the woodwork to fight me. Even the philanthropic ones."
"Not every family," Oliver gestured around the room. "Though I suppose my endorsement wouldn't be all that useful either."
Blood shook his hand in an equivocating gesture a moment, moving his head to the side a little. "Before yesterday, that might have been true. But now?"
"And before yesterday, I might have thought you weren't the one for the job," Oliver countered. "But I've seen the signs, the graffiti. 'Blood for Mayor'" He moved his hand left to right in three quick motions, as if over the words themselves. "A lot of people want you to have the job." Oliver shrugged, "For what it's worth, you have one more."