Alright, here's the second to last chapter for Year 5. After that, there is one more chapter that will be posted next week.

As for Season 1, when that'll be started… I don't know. I haven't started it yet and have been working on multiple different plot bunnies all at once, including at least two different long fics. Once my head is a bit more cleared and I've had distance from the story, I'll probably start it. For now, just know that I've really enjoyed writing this AU for all of you and I hope you enjoyed it too.

London

The flight to London took approximately seven hours. They touched down in a private airfield on the outskirts of the city, where a blacked car was waiting for them. After that was about an hour drive to a hotel, a classy place that was way out of Laurel's price range but apparently well-within Shiva's. Not entirely surprising, her services were well-sought out and Laurel was pretty sure she had multiple cults worshipping her as the incarnation of the actual Shiva from Hindu Mythology. The only reason Laurel didn't feel out of place was her own previous experiences with such wealth due to her friendships with Ollie, Tommy, and Bruce.

Once they were settled into the penthouse, Shiva gave her a tight, revealing spaghetti-strapped black dress and a pair of heels, and instructed her to change. Laurel swallowed when she saw it but didn't protest, and when she exited the bathroom with it on, Shiva was waiting for her, beckoning her forward. She took Laurel's arm and placed a clear patch on her forearm, sliding her thumb against it so it was adhere to the skin. "An embedded tracker," she explained. "See-through and practically indistinguishable from your complexion. A high-level piece of technology, it was gifted to me by the Ninth Circle for this mission. It will allow me to track you after you are taken."

"Right. And where exactly am I being taken from?" The vigilante asked, crossing her arms.

"A downtown nightclub by the name of Savant. It is manned by one of Egon's men, an ex-KGB agent named Aleksandr Creote. You will enter the club as a solitary patron and feign intoxication. Should you pique their interest, you will be offered a free room in the back of the club to sleep off your hangover, which is where Creote's men will take you and send you to Egon. Egon likes to personally 'inspect' each and every product before arranging them to be sold."

"And by 'inspect', you mean…?"

"He looks but does not touch," Shiva assured her. "Nor does he allow anyone else to touch. His usual customers like to 'break in' the girls themselves."

It was something, but that didn't make it any less disgusting and degrading. Shiva's words alone made Laurel want to nail this Egon to the wall herself. Human traffickers really were the worst kind of scum.

It was around ten p.m. when Laurel arrived at Savant, dressed in the outfit Shiva made her wear with a black, sheer cardigan to help shield her from the England chill. She had her hair done up in a nice ponytail, her hair curled in a more wavy fashion and her makeup tastefully light. All in all, an attractive picture, enough to interest Egon's people while also making sure it wouldn't be a detriment when it was time for her to escape and fight.

She flashed the bouncer outside a coy smile as she entered the club, immediately hitting up the bar and asking for a drink. Doing her best to imbibe herself with the bare minimum of alcohol while still appearing intoxicated, Laurel passed the next several hours by "drinking" a bit more before heading to the dance floor and acting raunchy and wild. She danced alluringly and provocatively, flirting with men and women alike, during her best to show off her "assets". The entire charade felt demeaning, but considering the end goal was putting down a human trafficking ring, Laurel did what she always did best and sucked it up.

Finally, the night began to die down, passing midnight and into the early hours of the morning. Laurel went to one of the bouncers, doing her best to play the part of being a completely smashed airhead. "Hey…" she slurred, sliding a hand down the man's arm. It took everything she had not to crush his face in with her fist when she saw the way he was running his eyes up and down her body lecherously. "I don't think I can make it back to my hotel." She hiccuped. "Got a place I can crash in?"

He eyed her for a moment, then nodded, gesturing for Laurel to follow him. She was taken to the back and welcomed into a room with a bed inside. Doing her best to hide her trepidation, Laurel flashed another coy smile at him, muttering a soft "thank you", before laying herself across the mattress. As she closed her eyes, she felt a slight pinprick in her arm and tried not to snarl. Tranquilizer!

And with that, she blacked out.

Starling City

The week after Oliver's bombshell saw Tommy doing everything he could to avoid his two best friends. No matter how much they entreated him, bombarding him with calls, texts, and even emails, he refused to respond to them. Eventually, both of them had enough.

Being the city's premiere playboy now that Oliver had gone on the straight and narrow, it took Sara minimal time to use her own extensive gossip network to learn where Tommy was spending his Saturday night: his favorite club, Camelot. Syncing up with Oliver, the two of them decided to ambush their friend there and see if they could get him to talk to them then. Whatever it was that was bothering Tommy, that had caused him to leave them out in the cold like that, they needed to know.

Ever since they had 'settled down', for lack of a better term, both of them found the bans they had steadily racked up in the wake of the Gambit's sinking gradually lifted one by one. Oliver and Sara were both once again welcome in the party circuit, even if they had lost interest in fully involving themselves in that kind of lifestyle. That meant they were both able to use their own connections to enter Camelot easily.

They found Tommy in the absolute last place they wanted him to be: at the bar, getting stupendously drunk. At the sight of his best friend sitting on a bar stool, slumped over the counter with a shot glass in hand, Oliver could only sigh. "Oh, Tommy."

"Ollie?" Tommy looked up to his side, hiccuping. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, buddy. It's me. Come on." He hooked one arm under Tommy's shoulder, watching Sara do the same with the other arm. "Let's get you home."

The talk they wanted didn't happen until the following morning at Tommy's apartment after he had woken up and had breakfast and a hangover cure. Oliver and Sara had opted to stay the night to keep an eye on him, with Oliver taking the couch and Sara, the spare bedroom. Tommy hadn't exactly been happy when he found out.

"You two didn't have to do that," he insisted. "I can take care of myself."

That only got him flat, unimpressed looks from both of his friends. Tommy wilted at those expressions, and breakfast was conducted in silence as he recovered from his hangover. It wasn't until the meal was over and the plates were cleaned that they finally got around to talking.

"Look, I'm not some kind of unfeeling jerk, or naive or anything like that," is what he started off with. They were sitting in the living room. Well, it was more like Oliver and Sara were sitting. Tommy was standing up, pacing around nervously. "I get it, I really do. A lot of the bad stuff that happens, the way the city's been going down over the years, it has to do with the bullshit laws that have been passed, the government favoring big business over the little guy. I get that."

"Do you?" Sara asked, arching an eyebrow.

Tommy shot her a look. "I do. Have you guys forgotten? My mom used to be the biggest humanitarian in this city. She always believed it was the duty of the wealthy to take care of the less fortunate." At his admonishment, Sara ducked her head apologetically.

"Tommy, if that's the case, then why…" Oliver trailed off, then shrugged. He didn't have to say much more than that.

"Ironically, enough, that's also because of my mom. We all know what happened to her."

That put a significant damper on the mood. Suddenly, Tommy's reluctance made a lot more sense. "Okay then," Oliver started, tone understanding and careful. "What does that mean for you?"

The other man swallowed. "I think what you're thinking of doing is a great idea, Ollie. A lot of people in the Glades aren't making something of themselves because they haven't been given the chance or the resources needed to do so. I get that. But if we're going to do this, we need to be careful about it. I don't want what happened to my mom to happen to us as well." There was a collective flinch.

"So you're thinking security," Sara realized.

"Strong security," Tommy confirmed. "And tight as well. The same kind the clinic has had ever since Mom's death. The Glades isn't just poor guys, it's also dangerous and volatile. That's the unfortunate reality. I'm not suggesting we have heavily armed soldiers outside or anything like that, but…"

"No, I get it," Oliver interjected, holding up his hand to stop Tommy from speaking. "I'll talk to my mother — she'll have some idea of which security firm we should use. Is that fine with you two?"

"Sounds good to me," Sara declared, Tommy nodding along.

"Alright. Now that is finally settled, we can finally get around to talking about what kind of services we want to provide if this gets off the ground."

That was the cue for the three of them to head over to Tommy's dining table, break out the notebooks, and actually start talking about this. They listed out questions they needed to ask, and what they needed in order to make this work. The legalities, the funding, the construction — everything. Then there were the actual services.

When that came up, Sara suggested they partner up with some of the other charity organizations already established in the local area. "There's the clinic, obviously," she noted, nodding towards Tommy. "But there's also this place called the City Necessary Resource Initiative, or CNRI — they're a legal aid office located in the Glades. I heard about them from one of my patients when I was volunteering at the clinic. It's the kind of place Laurel would've wanted to work for if she couldn't get a spot in the DA's office."

Oliver liked that. He liked that a lot, and so did Tommy, and just like that, they were off. The entire day was spent talking and talking doing more research. Tommy brought in his laptop and began Googling stuff. Sara and Oliver took turns transcribing things. By the time night hit, they had around four full notebooks full of ideas, and Oliver had a feeling that this was just the beginning.

London

The tranquilizer wore off a few hours later. When Laurel came to, she found her hands bound in front of her with rope and her ankles tied together. To her relief, her outfit was intact — just as Shiva said, nobody had 'sampled the goods'. Glad to see the woman had some standards.

She was in the back of a truck for some time, surrounded by other girls in a similar predicament to hers. Those that were awake were obviously nervous and afraid, quietly sobbing as they waited for their fates. Laurel did her best to act like them, not wanting to clue in anyone about how she really felt. That was just asking for more trouble than she was already in.

Eventually, the truck stopped, with the sound of the engine turning off. This, if anything, caused the sobbing to become worse. The back doors opened, revealing several armed and unfriendly men. They began gesturing for them to get out, a few dragging some of the other girls out to get the message across. Laurel played along, following the group out of the truck and landing on her feet.

When she got out of the vehicle, she cased her surroundings and hid her frown. They were at the docks, close to a nearby warehouse. The men were lining up the girls across from the warehouse near one dock, and Laurel went with them, not wanting to cause a scene just yet. Once they were all out and in a neat line, a blonde-haired man came into view. Judging by how deferential everyone was to him, this must be Egon.

"Welcome, my dears," he said in accented English. He was German like Leo Mueller, by the sounds of it. "Do not fear — do not cause trouble and there will be no trouble. As for why you're here, a certain count in Vlatava has paid a pretty penny to have you on the market there. Soon, you'll be boarding a ship, where you'll be taken to his country and be sold like the good product you are."

More girls began crying. Laurel tried not to vomit even as she feigned fear. Scum indeed — how could someone talk about other human beings like that? She might not kill anymore, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to Shiva finally getting her hands on this guy.

Egon began running down the line, going to each girl and observing them closely. The 'inspection', as Shiva had called it. Some of the girls flinched when he was near, others looked away. None of them could meet his eyes.

When he made it to Laurel, however, he paused. Laurel was doing her best to act as helpless and frightened as the others, to make herself look small, but she couldn't quite keep the disgust out of her eyes when she saw him. Egon tilted his head, and then suddenly grabbed her by the chin, pulling her forward. He adopted a more introspective expression, humming. "You've got fire in you," he declared.

Laurel frowned. Egon tapped his own chin with a single finger. "Maybe I should kill you for that. The ones with fire tend to cause the most problems. On the other hand, customers love breaking those ones the most." He pulled on Laurel's chin a little harder. Too hard.

Okay, fuck this. The vigilante wrenched her head away, much to his surprise. Then, she kicked him in the gnads.

Egon's eyes went as wide as plates as he wheezed, bending forward to hold his nether regions. He grunted and gasped in pain, even as he glared up at her, insulted. "Kill her!" he ordered to his nearest man.

Laurel cursed as guns were leveled at her. Not her brightest moment. Before she could begin to run, however, there was the whistling sound of something sailing in the air, and a knife struck Egon in the shoulder. "Ugh! What is this!" he demanded.

"Hello, Egon."

Just like that, every eye landed on the area behind Laurel. Laurel turned around and blinked; Shiva was standing on one of the storage units, smirking down at everyone imperiously. "Dante is not happy with you," she announced for everyone to hear.

Egon paled immediately upon seeing her. "Shiva," he whispered in horror before suddenly darting away in the opposite direction, far from the assassin. He began shouting orders in German, and many of his men began following him. Shiva jumped off the storage unit, tossing a knife toward the ground near Laurel, before pursuing him.

Laurel got to the knife before anyone could stop her, quickly using the blade to free her hands and then her feet. By the time one of Egon's men was near her, she was able to punch his lights out, knocking him out easily. More guards came at her, some even trying to shoot her, but she handled them easily enough.

Once they were all down, she went about freeing the other girls. They were shaken and afraid, but the idea of being free of this mess was too tantalizing for them to resist. None of them stopped her from cutting their bonds, and once they were all free, they didn't hesitate to follow her back to the trucks. The plan was to drive their way back to London.

Unfortunately, however, they were blindsided by an army of thugs descending from a nearby ship at the nearest dock. More of Egon's men, probably those that were supposed to be their guards once they had been properly 'loaded'. Laurel had to pull another girl out of the way of being shot and guided them behind several shipping containers for cover. "Stay here," she ordered, before looking around for something that could help.

She found a large piece of scrap metal nearby, big enough to carry as a shield. That'll have to do, Laurel thought grimly as she ran over to pick it up. She held it in front of her, inhaling a deep breath, before charging out from the side and into the fray. There were shouts of surprise at her decision from both sides, but Laurel ignored them all in favor of going to the nearest thug and slamming the metal into him, knocking him down. She grabbed his gun and knocked him out with another swing of the shield, then kneecapped several of the men nearby.

Once she was out of bullets, she dropped the gun and kicked it away, and went after another thug, disarming him and knocking him out. And another and another. Eventually, once all the bullets ran out and they resorted to rushing her instead. Just as well, Laurel swung her shield, braining one of them in the head as she dived into the crowd and began hitting everything that moved.

Without her Canary Cry on hand, she was vulnerable, much more vulnerable than she usually was. She had no choice but to fight harder than usual, to be as brutal and unmerciful as possible. Anything less would mean her death, and Laurel had no intentions of dying here, not when she was so close to home. I'm surviving, she thought, grunting, the memories of a far kinder man than those present and a bullet crossing her mind, no matter what!

The passage of time became meaningless. Laurel fell into some kind of zone, one she forgot just about everything except her surroundings, a single-mindedness focused entirely on fighting off Egon's army. Her hands, knees, and feet lost feeling with every strike she made, the pain no longer registering.

Finally, it ended. Before Laurel knew it, she was standing in the middle of a defeated army of groaning and moaning goons, bloody, bruised, and a little battered, but unquestionably victorious. She breathed hard, staring into nothing, just… there.

Suddenly, there was slow clapping, and Laurel, acting on automatic, fell into a defensive stance. She blinked when she saw it was Shiva, however, and straightened up. The older woman was visibly grinning, a touch of mania to her pleased expression. "Well done, Little Bird," she purred. "I knew you had it in you."

More praise. Laurel's mind was too foggy to really register it. Before she could respond, she felt her injuries and exhaustion finally catching up to her. Her body began to wobble, and her eyes began to close.

She fell to the ground, face first, and for the second time that night, fell unconscious. The last thing she saw before her world turned black was Shiva's proud, dark eyes.

And that's the end of that mission! I hope you enjoyed reading Laurel being more of a badass. Egon comes from the Red Hood: Lost Days comic, while Aleksandr Creote is from Birds of Prey. Also threw in some Ninth Circle connection there because I couldn't help it, though, in the end, the real driver of this is Shiva. If you've read the Batgirl (2000) series and Birds of Prey, you probably have some idea of what Shiva wants with Laurel, but I'll keep you in the dark for now.

Meanwhile, we get some of Tommy's insecurities regarding the foundation, which is understandable. But now that he's gotten over it, the work can begin in earnest. As for the foundation itself, well, you'll see where that goes soon enough.

Next Chapter: Laurel prepares to return home.