"Right then," John said, getting up once again. "I would like ask that you please refrain from asking about what happens to Oliver after he gets shot with the arrow because, obviously, you're about to find out, but does anyone have anything else they'd like to say? Questions? Perhaps a change of opinion?"
He looked pointedly at the judge and D.A. "I have to admit that I'm finding myself more sympathetic to Mr. Queen," the D.A. admitted after a moment. "However, just because I can understand his point of view does not mean that I do not believe that he should be punished for the things he has done. What we are seeing here is vigilante justice. No one man should be judge, jury, and executioner."
John nodded slowly. "That may be true under normal circumstances," he conceded. "However, as you will soon learn, what Oliver faced is something that no conventional means of law enforcement would have been able to deal with. And every major country, even America, has espionage agencies that will put out hits on dangerous people, the sort of dangerous people that, like the people Oliver is facing, cannot be handled by conventional means. Is it the way things should be? No. But it is the way things are. You also might be interested to know that everything Oliver did, he did with the full backing of the U.S. government. Have you ever heard of A.R.G.U.S.?"
The D.A. shook her head. "Yes, well, they tend to keep a low profile," John stated.
"Uh, John?" Oliver interrupted. "Even the existence of A.R.G.U.S. is highly classified. You probably shouldn't be…"
"Oh, come on, Oliver," John laughed. "All of your involvement with A.R.G.U.S., and you didn't think they were going to come up in these videos? They'll know all about A.R.G.U.S. by the time this is over, I can assure you."
He shifted focus back to the D.A. "The point is," he continued, "Oliver is an A.R.G.U.S. special agent. Has been since 2009. He's not on their official records, nor is he on active duty, but he was never retired. And everything he has ever done, in Star(ling) City or elsewhere, has been with their full knowledge and consent. He is not acting outside the law, he is simply acting under a different set of rules."
John gave the room a moment to digest that knowledge. "Does anyone else have something they'd like to say before we continue?" he finally asked.
After being met with a still-in-shock room, he shrugged. "Alrighty then," he said.
Late at night, Oliver is working out in his lair. "My name is Oliver Queen," he says in a voiceover. "To my family, I am the brother and son who just returned home after being lost at sea five years ago. They don't know I came back with a mission to bring justice to our city, and they never can. The men and women I've targeted are dangerous, corrupt, a virulent cancer."
He releases the chain his was exercising with and the concrete blocks it was attached to crash to the ground and shatter. Back at the computer, his voiceover continues as he researches. "Cancers like James Holder, whose corporation put defective smoke detectors in low-income housing in the Glades. There have been many fires. And too many funerals."
He flips through the book and finds James Holder's name. He pulls his bow out of the trunk and tests it. "But cancers can be fought and conquered," his voice continues. "All it takes is a surgeon, and the right instrument."
In another area of the city, James Holder walks around an in-ground pool, on his roof, in a robe, talking on the phone. "Other than the bill I got handed this morning from my legal team, I'm feeling pretty good," he says happily into the phone. "Plus, now that this lawsuit's been settled we can focus our attention on Unidac Industries."
He chuckles. "Okay," he answers the person on the other end of the phone. "I'll see you in the office first thing."
He hangs up and throws the phone on the padded benches that line the pool. He looks peacefully up at the sky, and then the bottle in his hand is shattered by an arrow. Oliver is standing at the other end of the pool. "I have armed security inside," he warns. "All I have to do is call out."
"Go ahead," Oliver answers, unimpressed. "They can't hear you."
He throws their guns on the ground.
"What the h*** do you want?" Holder demands.
"How many people died in those fires?" Oliver presses. "How many?!"
As he and Holder continue to talk, another man is shown, aiming a sniper rifle. "The courts say you don't owe your victims anything," Oliver continues. "I disagree. James Holder…"
He is interrupted by a gun firing, and James Holder falls into his pool, dead. Oliver quickly spins around and fires in the direction of the shot, then takes cover as the sniper returns fire. He takes another look at Holder and grimaces, then looks at his shoulder, which has been shot, and sighs.
Back at the lair, Oliver is stitching himself up at the desk.
"What?" the D.A. burst out. "You didn't go to a hospital?"
"A hospital is required to report gun wounds to the police," Oliver countered. "And the police would want to know how and why I got that wound."
"I'm guessing 'how' and 'why' are your least favorite questions," the D.A. grumbled.
"There's also 'when' and 'where' he's not too fond of," Diggle put in with a grin towards Felicity, who grinned right back, remembering when he had said those words to her.
Oliver glared at him, but didn't argue. "Besides," he continued answering the original question, "it was hardly the first time I had stitched myself up. I knew what I was doing."
"You had all the materials?" a man from the other side of the room who hadn't spoken before asked.
Everyone turned to him. "My name is Grant Justin, and I'm a doctor," he explained. "I assume you had the special needle and thread. It looks like you had a kidney dish there. And you had a numbing agent?"
"No," Oliver said matter-of-factly. "I don't use that stuff."
"You don't use a numbing agent when extracting a bullet and sewing a wound?" the doctor asked incredulously.
"Or when doing anything else," Felicity answered grumpily. "And he doesn't use any kind of painkiller, either. I can't even get him to take Asprin."
"Why not?" the doctor exclaimed.
"Those things dull your senses," Oliver explained. "Slow your reaction time. With the life that I lead, I can't afford that. If I lose it, that leaves everyone else susceptible to attack, not only from others, but from myself. When I'm not in my right mind, I can be quite dangerous to those around me. You saw that for yourself when my mother tried to wake me up and I almost killed her. Ask Dig, or Quentin, or even Thea or Felicity."
Diggle nodded. "Once he was fighting the Count and he got injected with a Vertigo overdose," he started. "He was in a lot of pain, and when I got too close to him, he grabbed me around the neck. Almost choked me out before I managed to restrain him."
"But it must hurt like crazy!" Beth exclaimed in concern.
Oliver shrugged. "Pain and I came to an understanding a long time ago," he said simply, looking at Sara, who nodded in agreement and understanding.
The D.A. (and everyone else) looked repulsed at that, and Felicity and John looked at each other, remembering when Sara said the same thing, but John started the video again before they could get into it any further, knowing that they'd all see for themselves eventually.
Oliver continues sewing up his wound, grimacing and gasping quietly but making no other sound. After he's done, he puts on a shirt and carries on as normal. "It's no surprise a man as corrupt as James Holder has more than one enemy," his voice says as he crosses his name off the list. "He grimaces as he leans back in the chair, then stands, but falters and collapses, catching himself on the desk. He looks at the wound, then grabs desperately at the materials in the kidney dish. "The bullet," his voice says frantically. "Poison!"
He grabs a bottle of water off the desk and turns towards his trunk, falling on the floor and crawling the rest of the way.
"Ow!" Oliver suddenly exclaimed as Felicity dug her fingernails into his arm, gripping him tightly.
Everyone turned to look at them. "Sorry!" Felicity exclaimed. "I know you're fine and you survived, but that doesn't make it any easier to see you get hurt."
"Felicity, you've literally spent the last 6 years watching me get hurt in real time AND patching me up afterwards, and watching me get hurt in the past on a screen when you know I survived is when you decide to impale me?" Oliver asked incredulously.
"You're not there to impale when you're getting hurt in real time," Felicity explained. "I mean, other people are, but they're not you. I mean, not that I would impale anyone else, or you, really, I don't normally impale you, either, but the point is that normally I just impale something that won't get hurt, like the desk, or the chair, I even did it to my keyboard once, and that sucked, you know, because I really liked that keyboard and the 'k' and 'd' keys were never the same again, which was annoying, but you're all right, because you're always all right, I mean, even when no one else would be all right you're all right, like the time Ra's stabbed you and you fell off a mountain, or even when you fell down the elevator shaft and got impaled by that huge screw thing, because you were carrying me because I was paralyzed because of Chase's EMP and you ended up carrying me through the tunnels under the lair, the new lair I mean, not this one, because this one got compromised, and…"
Oliver kissed her square on the mouth, effectively stopping her mindless rant. After a moment he pulled back. "Thank you," she whispered. "I couldn't stop."
"I know," Oliver smiled back. "That's one of the things I love about you. But I think you don't want to get on John's bad side for giving away too many details about the future, right?"
Felicity glanced over at John, who gave her a fake menacing grin and a wave. She looked back at Oliver and shook her head vehemently.
Oliver frantically opens his trunk and pulls out a little brown bag. He takes the contents out of it and stuffs them into his mouth, washing it down with the water. He then collapses onto the floor.
On the island, Oliver slowly comes to. He's in a cave. He looks down and sees the Arrow still sticking out of his shoulder. A man, the same man that shot him, comes in the entrance of the cave. He is wearing ragged, green clothes, a familiar green hood, and is holding a bow. Oliver looks at him, pain and terror written all over his face. "Who are you?" he asks.
The man pulls down the hood. "Why did you shoot me?" Oliver asks.
"Weile bauhu nin," the man answers.
"What did he say?" the D.A. demanded.
"Care to translate, mate?" John asked Oliver.
Oliver sighed. "To protect you," he translated.
"So you know Chinese too?" the D.A. observed questioningly.
Oliver nodded.
The man held out something in his right hand and a bowl of water in his left. "Yinliao," he insists.
"Drink," Oliver translated without being told this time.
Oliver figures it out and takes the herbs out of the man's hand eats them, and washes them down with the water, coughing. Without any warning, the man grabs the arrow and pulls it through Oliver's shoulder. Oliver screams in pain.
Many people in the room cringe.
Back in the lair, Oliver bolts upright. An alarm is going off. He checks the time, curses, and hurriedly gets up and leaves.
He makes it to the mansion and walks down the hallway, glancing down at his bullet wound again to make sure it isn't visible. When he makes it to the sitting room, he sees his mother and step-father talking with two cops, Thea sitting on the couch and Diggle keeping watch from the doorway. Diggle turns to Oliver. "What happened?" Oliver asks him. "Is Thea okay?"
Diggle nods. "Cops brought her home," he answers. "She and some of her friends broke into a store, tried on some dresses last night."
Oliver grimaces. "Lit up the breathalyzer like a Christmas tree," Diggle finishes.
Future/present Thea facepalmed.
He looks Oliver up and down. "So how was your evening, sir?" he asks.
"You mean after I said I had to go to the bathroom at dinner and never came back?" Oliver answers glibly.
Diggle nods. "I guess from now on I'll be watching you pee," he says straight-faced.
Oliver locks eyes with him and they have another battle of wills. Eventually Oliver breaks the stare to enter the sitting room. "Thank you, officers," Walter is saying. "My wife and I appreciate it. I'll see you out."
"Thank you," says one of the officers, and they leave.
Moira turns to Thea. "Last time it was public intoxication," she says evenly. "This time breaking and entering. My, how we are moving up in the criminal world!"
Thea stands and stretches. "You know, when you pay off the store owner, you should check out the merchandise," she says carelessly. "They got some pretty killer outfits."
"Thea, go get ready for school," Moira says sternly.
"Uh, you know, I was thinking of taking a sick day," Thea counters.
Moira stares at her for a moment. "Fine, then get some sleep," Moira gave in.
Thea saunters out of the room. "You look like crap," she throws at her brother on the way out.
"I wonder why, it's not like he'd just been shot and poisoned!" Benji exclaimed.
Oliver bites his lip and turns to his mother. "You're letting her play hooky?" he asks unbelievingly.
"When your sister gets like this it's best to give her her space," Moira explains.
"She's testing you," Oliver points out.
"Yes," Moira agrees. "Who'd she learn that from?"
Oliver takes the jab in stride, tilting his head. "Mom," he mutters. He considers his words carefully before he speaks again. "When I was her age, you and Dad let me get away with murder," he states. "Looking back, I could have used less space and more parenting."
He walks out, obviously angry at how Moira is treating Thea. Moira stares after him in confusion.
Back at Holder's pool roof turned place of death, Lance is casing the scene. "It doesn't make sense," he says.
"Holder fits the profile," Hilton counters. "Wealthy dirtbag. Red meat for the Hood. And we recovered at least one arrow."
"Yeah," Lance agrees, "only this time the cause of death is a double tap to the heart and our perp doesn't use firearms."
"Maybe he's finally figured out there's easier ways to kill people than with a bow and arrow?" Hilton suggests.
Oliver snorted.
"Is something funny, Mr. Queen?" the judge asked sternly.
"Yes, your honor," Oliver answered. "Because I use a bow and arrow, everyone always assumes I don't know how to use guns. I find that quite amusing."
"You do know how to use guns?" the D.A. asked.
"Of course I know how to use a gun!" Oliver burst out.
"Oliver, you have to admit, even I was surprised when Diggle threw you a gun that time in Corto Maltese and you didn't miss a single shot," Roy put in. "The truth is, guys," he said, speaking to the wider room, "Oliver's almost as good with a gun as he is with a bow. He just prefers the bow."
"Just another reason you're out of your mind," someone mumbled under their breath. Everyone heard, but they couldn't figure out where in the room it came from.
"I guess like you said," Hilton continues. "the guy's a whack job."
Lance looks at him, considering.
At Oliver's lair, he is deep in examining the poisoned bullet. He drips a chemical onto one of the pads he had used to clean the wound, and his blood turns blue. "The bullets were laced with curare," his voice says. "A rare and deadly poison. The killer's unique M.O. He's killed all over the world. Chicago, Markovia, Corto Maltese. Interpol even has a code name for him. Deadshot."
He pulls up a government profile on Deadshot, with a picture taken from above that only shows half his face. "I was prepared to give James Holder a chance to right his wrongs," his voice continues, "but this Deadshot has no morality, no honor, no code."
In another part of the city, a man is tattooing a name onto his arm: James Holder. "He doesn't kill for justice," Oliver's voice continues, "which makes him as dangerous as anyone on my list. In fact, it puts him right at the top."
The man stands, and his reflection in the mirror shows a torso covered in tattooed names. His kills.
"Wow," the D.A. whispered. "Mr. Queen, the state will not hold you responsible for this man's death."
"Thank you," Oliver said. "But, he doesn't die. At least not yet, and when he does, it isn't by my hand. Actually, he dies saving Diggle and his wife Lyla's lives."
The D.A. looked at him in confusion.
At the old Queen Steel Factory, Oliver hauls the doors open for Tommy and Diggle. "So what do you think?" he asks Tommy. "Great spot for a nightclub, or what?"
"Sweet," Tommy agrees, turning on his heel as they walk inside. "Though, I gotta tell you, man, if you're thinking of calling it 'Queen's' I don't think you're gonna get the clientele that you were hoping for."
"Private office," Oliver explains, pointing.
"For the private one-on-one meetings, I would imagine," Tommy jokes.
"Hopefully the occasional two-on-one meeting," Oliver continues the joke.
Tommy laughs.
"You guys were disgusting," Rene observed.
"Yeah," Dinah agreed.
"Man, are you sure you wanna do this?" Tommy asks. "It's not like you really have any experience in running a…well, running anything."
Oliver looks at him, unamused. "How about tomorrow night the two of us, we go and scope out the competition?" Tommy suggests. "There's a new club opening downtown. It's called Poison. Max Fuller owns it."
"Max Fuller," Oliver repeats.
"Mm-hmm," Tommy confirms.
"I slept with his fiance," Oliver reminds him.
"Yeah, before the wedding," Tommy shrugs.
"It was at the rehearsal dinner," Oliver corrects.
"The rehearsal dinner is technically before the wedding," Tommy insists.
They both laugh.
"Oliver Jonas Queen!" Felicity screeched, swatting at him.
Oliver weakly guarded his face as she pummeled him. "Felicity!" he shouted. "Felicity, stop, please! I've already admitted I was a disgusting, horrible jerk back then! You don't need to beat me to death!"
She stopped, and he slowly and tentatively put his guard down, only to get slapped in the face. "Felicity!" he exclaimed.
"Serves you right," Felicity insisted.
"It's not like you didn't know that I slept with other women," Oliver reminded her.
"But it's not the same thing!" Felicity insisted.
Oliver looked past her at William and Raisa, both of whom have been very quiet. "Will? Raisa? Are you guys okay?" he asked quietly.
William nodded. "It's just…"
He stopped. "It's okay, buddy, you can say it."
William shook his head. "It's not nice," he explained, "and you told me that I need to be respectful to adults."
"I think everyone in here will give you a pass," Oliver told him, glaring pointedly around the room.
"It's just hard," William admitted. "Everyone at the trial was saying all those things about you, and now we're here and I'm watching you and everything you went through and Dad I don't like it! This is why I made you stop being the Green Arrow for a bit, because of everything that's happening here. And then the people in here are still being mean to you, and they just don't know you like me and Felicity do. I thought maybe if I was quiet everyone would forget I was here, because you may be the Green Arrow, but that makes you tough and strong, and to them, probably a little scary. I'm just here because I'm the Green Arrow's illegitimate son that the people who don't like you can use against you. If I didn't have to be in this courtroom in the first place then I wouldn't be here watching this and I don't want to watch this."
Oliver sighed, and the rest of the room seemed to sigh with him. "Oh, buddy, come'ere," he said, holding out his arms to him.
William melted into his shoulder. Oliver turned to John. "Can we take a minute, please?" he asked quietly.
"Sure, mate," John said.
For a long time, Oliver sat there, holding William in his arms while Felicity and Raisa and the Team and all the other heroes kept guard, glaring at anyone who dared to look their way. Eventually, William pulled back. "Are you going to be okay, Dad?" he asked.
"I'm going to be fine," Oliver said firmly. "No matter what. I promised you that I would always come back to you, right?"
William nodded. "Okay then," Oliver said. "Then there you have it. I always will, buddy. I love you."
William hugged him again and got up to sit back by Raisa, who embraced him as she gave Oliver a proud smile. "Oliver," she started. "I always knew that you would grow up to do something truly extraordinary. I'm just glad I get the chance to see it."
"Thank you, Raisa," Oliver said with a smile.
He turned and nodded to John.
"And besides," Tommy continues, "who stays mad at a castaway?"
"Laurel," half the room said pointedly.
"Ah, d*** it, I gotta roll," Tommy says as his phone goes off. "Anyway. I'll see you later, man. Good place. See you."
He pats him on the back. "See you," he acknowledges Diggle, clapping him on the shoulder on the way out.
"So," Oliver continues to Diggle, "what do you think?"
"Well, I'm here to provide security, sir, not a commentary," Diggle answers.
"Oh, come on, Dig, do me a favor," Oliver says lightly. "Speak freely, please."
"Well," Diggle says, looking around. "This is the Glades, right? Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet."
"I am Oliver Queen, right?" Oliver counters. "People would stand in line for three hours if I opened a club."
"And no one who actually lives in the Glades would see a penny of those cover charges," Diggle observes.
"We make it a successful business, we gentrify the neighborhood," Oliver states.
"I was wondering when we'd get to that," Diggle says in amusement.
Oliver tilts his head questioningly. "The white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised," Diggle explains further. "And all by his lonesome with no help from anybody."
"Wow," Oliver fake-whispers. "You don't think very much of me, do you."
"No, actually, sir, I have a very high regard for how perceptive you are," Diggle answers. "Sir."
"Ooh, burn!" Curtis exclaimed. "Dang, Dig!"
He smiles, and Oliver smiles back. Diggle turns and leaves, and Oliver looks around. "The nightclub will conceal my base underneath and provide an alibi for where Oliver Queen spends his nights," his voice explains his reasoning.
At CNRI, Laurel is reading an article online about Oliver's future nightclub. Joanna walks towards her, and she hurriedly closes the article. "Hey, do you have the depos on the Jergens case?" Jo asks.
"Yeah, they're around here somewhere," Laurel answers, looking at the mess of papers and files that is her desk.
She starts surfing through them, but feels Jo's gaze on her and turns. "I was just surfing the net," she defends herself.
"Really?" Jo asks disbelievingly.
Laurel slams a file on the desk. "Joanna, I am over him," she states.
Jo just tilts her head. "And, you don't believe me," Laurel observes.
"Well, I would have if I wouldn't have just caught you trolling for articles on him!" Jo points out, following Laurel as she walks away.
"I wasn't trolling," Laurel retorts.
"I don't want to have to be the one to remind you that he cheated on you, Laurel!" Jo reminds her. "With your sister!"
Laurel looks at her incredulously. "I appreciate your self control," she says.
"You're stuck in the past," Jo pushes. "And the reason I know this is the fact that the only physical relationship you've had since Oliver is with his best friend. It is time to move on. I-it is past time."
Laurel glares at her. "I've been busy," she says, attempting to walk away again. "I work a lot."
"Okay," Jo says, once again following her. "That's got to stop. So, we are going out tonight. And, and we are gonna have some shots and we are gonna dance with men that we don't know and we are going to stay out way too late."
She pulls a file off of Laurel's desk. "Jergens' depos," she says, holding up the folder.
She starts to leave. "I really don't think I can go out tonight," Laurel calls after her.
Jo turns back to her. "It is adorable that you actually think I'm giving you a choice," she says with a victorious smile.
Back at the mansion, Thea is getting ready for school in her room. Moira walks in. "I want you to come home right after school," she orders.
"Oh, can't," Thea responds. "Margot and I are gonna go to the mall."
"What, more shopping?" Moira asks incredulously. "Tell Margot you'll have to cancel. You're grounded for two weeks."
Thea finally turns to face her. "Grounded?" she says disbelievingly. "I've never been grounded."
"Well, you've never committed larceny before," Moira responds.
"If that's the kind of line you had to cross before you got grounded it's a wonder you turned out as well as you did, Queen," the judge admitted grudgingly.
"And also not a wonder at all that you were such a troublemaker in your teens and twenties," the D.A. added.
Oliver just stared straight ahead, his face set.
Thea looks at her incredulously and crosses her arms, slowly walking towards her. "Since when do you care?" she asks.
"I've always cared," Moira says angrily. "I'm your mother."
"Look, we've had a good thing going on the last five years," Thea reasons. "Why mess with that now?"
Moira shakes her head. "No, we are paying off store owners to keep your record clean so clearly it hasn't been working."
"And you're gonna teach me," Thea says dryly. "It's Oliver, isn't it? His judgemental hypocrisy is rubbing off on you."
"I'm so sorry, Oliver," Thea burst out. "That was uncalled for."
"No it wasn't, Thea," Oliver said quietly. "With the information you had at that point it was perfectly reasonable. You know I don't hold any of this against you."
"I know," she agreed. "I just need to say it, you know?"
Oliver nodded, a soft smile on his face as he knew he'd probably be doing the exact same thing.
"No, I don't need Oliver to teach me how to parent you," Moira contradicts. "You'll be home by 4."
"Or what?" Thea asks rebelliously. "You're gonna call the cops on me? Tell them I say hi."
She walks out and Moira stares after her in disbelief.
Oliver has returned to the scene of the crime, literally. He's walking down the alleyways under the building where Holder was killed, slowly looking around, remembering where the shots came from and tracking their trajectories from the ground.
"Wow, that's incredible," a man breathes.
Everyone looks at him. "I'm retired CIA," he explains. "My name's Clay, Clay Jergen. And what he's doing right there, that's something that it takes us months, sometimes years, to learn how to do. Everything happens so fast in a fight. It looks fast here, but when you're in the middle of it it's even faster. And to have perfect recollection like that, be able to remember where each individual shot came from? That takes some serious skill. Some people never master it. You must have an incredible memory, Mr. Queen."
"I was taught," Oliver answered. "It's not a natural talent."
"Who taught you?" the D.A. asked.
"A woman named Tatsu Yamashiro," Oliver answered. "You'll probably see her on these eventually."
He looked back at Constantine, who nodded in confirmation.
After Oliver has tracked the trajectories of all the bullets, he starts scaling the wall of the building, leaping onto a pipe and pulling himself up.
"You can do parkour too?" Clay asked incredulously. "What can't you do?"
"In the realm of fighting, shooting, or acrobatics, not much," Felicity answered for Oliver. "Computers, however? He's pathetic."
"Hey!" Oliver exclaimed. "I held my own for over six months before you became part of the team!"
"And you were bringing stuff to me with the lamest excuses ever for months before that," Felicity retorted.
"Well, you're just so much better at it than I am," Oliver said sweetly. "I can certainly do way more than the average person, but you're literally the best hacker in the world, and when I'm surrounded by people like you and Curtis and Cisco and Alena, well…"
He turned to the room at large. "I wasn't pathetic until I was standing in a room with the four best hackers in the entire world," he defended himself.
Oliver spins and leaps onto a windowsill, inching his way across. He lunges up and grabs another windowsill a story above and pulls himself up. He finds a bullet embedded in the wall, pulls it out, and looks at it victoriously.
At SCPD, Lance is sitting at his desk looking through the pictures of the crime scene. Hilton walks to him with a folder. "We got ballistics back on the Holder murder," he reports. "They pulled two 7.62 millimeter bullets out of him. According to the stippling and size of the entry wound, they estimate the shots were fired from approximately 100 yards away."
"100 yards," Lance repeats. "What, so the Hood shoots him from another building, goes over to his place, takes out his security and then he fires off a few arrows?"
"And, according to his tox screen, his blood contained high concentrations of Strychnos toxifera," Hilton finishes.
Lance shrugs. "What?"
"Curare," Hilton clarifies. "It's a kind of poison."
"Oh!" Lance exclaims. "Okay, so now we switch from arrows to sniper bullets and poison." he shakes his head quickly. "I'm not buying it."
"We still found arrows on the scene," Hilton reminds him as Lance stands up. "Solid evidence the Hood was there."
Lance grabs his keys and walks away. "Where you goin'?" Hilton calls after him.
"I'm gonna get my own evidence," Lance answers, walking out.
Hilton sighs and drops the file on Lance's desk.
In the lair, Oliver is investigating the bullet. "7.62 millimeter rounds," his voice says. "The money trail leads back to the Bratva, the Russian mob. Finally, some good luck."
"Uh…" the D.A. started. "How exactly is the Russian mob good luck?"
"I'm sure you're about to find out," Oliver answered. "Just…try and keep an open mind, okay? Not everything is as it seems."
"Nothing ever is with you," the D.A. grumbled.
Back at Holder's pool, Lance slowly squats and looks around. He looks at the building that is approximately 100 yards away and stands.
In one of the worse parts of town, Oliver walks down the sidewalk, incognito in some non-designer clothes and a baseball cap. He enters an alley, takes off his hat, and enters through a door covered in Russian writing – Cyrillic. Inside are what appears to be two Russian car mechanics, working on a car.
"Ya ishchu Alexi Leonov," Oliver says loudly.
"I'm looking for Alexi Leonov," Oliver translated without being asked.
"Zdes' nyet nikogo s takim imenem," one of the men answers, turning to him.
"There's no one here by that name," Oliver translated.
"Nyet v tvoyem garazhe," Oliver answers. "V podvale vnizu."
"Not in your garage," Oliver translated again. "In the basement underneath."
The other man suddenly whirls away from the car and aims a gun at Oliver, which he quickly grabs and twists, snapping the man's thumb. He takes the gun and empties it, dismantling it speedily and rendering it unusable. He pulls down his shirt to reveal a strange star tattoo. "Ya Bratva," he says firmly. "Ya khochu uvidet' Alexi Leonov."
Oliver hesitated, and everyone looked at him. "I'm Bratva," he finally translated reluctantly, garning a lot of gasps and shocked looks. "I want to see Alexi Leonov."
"You're Bratva?" the D.A. gasped out. "That's a crime in and of itself, Mr. Queen!"
"I am and I'm not," Oliver answered. "I told you, everything is not what it seems, and I'm sure John is going to make sure you know all about it before this is over."
The D.A. settled back down, satisfied for the moment, but still not pleased.
One of the men walks slowly towards him. "Pleased to meet you," he finally says, bowing.
Oliver bows his head in return.
Later, the three men are descending a staircase. "I apologize," Alexi is saying. "We meant no disrespect to a Captain. Particularly an American one."
"You're a CAPTAIN in the Russian mob?!" the D.A. screeched.
"An honorary captain," Oliver corrected. "I am well aware of the Bratva's dealings, ma'am, and I am not in favor of them. The entire time I was with the Bratva I did not help in these activities in any way, shape, or form. The five years I was gone I did what I needed to do to survive. At one point, that meant joining the Bratva. One of the captains was a friend of mine that I had met on the island two years before. Both of us had thought the other was dead. The Bratva Pakhan, or leader, betrayed the Bratva, and I helped my friend and another captain stage a coup. During the coup, I saved my friend's life, and in return he made me a captain. And then I left. That's all. End of story. But since I was a captain and had the tattoo to prove it, I saw no reason why I shouldn't use that relationship since I had access to it. My friend backed up my plays whenever they were reported to him. He was made Pakhan after the old one was killed."
"And you're not telling us his name, why?" the D.A. demanded.
Oliver turned to John. "Is he going to be in these?" he asked.
"Of course, mate," John answered. "Everything is in these."
Oliver sighed. "I wasn't saying his name because he's involved in this whole thing with Diaz, and there are people in this room who are under Diaz's thumb," he revealed. "But if you're going to find out anyway I guess it doesn't matter. His name is Anatoly. Anatoly Knyazev."
"So," Alexi continues. "How can I be of assistance?"
"I'm in the market for a hired gun," Oliver answers. "Someone the organization's used before. His calling card is a 7.62 millimeter round laced with curare."
"I know no man who uses such tools," Alexi states.
"But you can find out who does," Oliver counters.
"First we will drink to each other's health, then I will look into the identity of this man you seek," Alexi says, handing Oliver a shot of vodka. They toast each other silently and drink. "I will also confirm that you are really Bratva Captain," Alexi continues. "Should this not be the case, I will send my mechanic here to find you and kill you and your family."
He smiles, and Oliver stares back, a hard, calculating look on his face. His gaze shifts to the mechanic with the broken thumb, and then back to Alexi. He leaves without another word.
"Carl Rasmussen was found shot to death in his home earlier this evening," a newscaster reports as the same man from before adds yet another tattoo to his body. "The police will not comment if there's a connection between Mr. Rasmussen's death and the murder of James Holder a few nights ago. Mr. Rasmussen leaves behind a wife and three children."
The camera pans upward to finally show the man's face: Deadshot.
"It's a great loss," Walter states, giving his statement to Lance and Hilton. "Carl was a titan."
"A titan who was looking to buy out a company called Unidac Industries," Hilton states.
"Well, 'Industries' are something of a misnomer," Walter explains. "UI's recent activity was actually looking into alternative energy."
"I think the point my partner is trying to make is that Carl Rasmussen was the second bidder this week to lose his life," Lance puts in.
"Are you implying something, Detective?" Moira asks coldly.
"Well, only that your husband's looking into buying Unidac Industries and the competition seems to be dropping like flies," Lance answers.
"And I'm sure your veiled accusation has nothing to do with how you feel about my family?" Moira accuses.
Lance scoffs.
"Unidac's in receivership, Detective," Walter puts in. "Ownership is subject to a liquidation auction, so that means there are many respective buyers. And the auction's tomorrow, so, if I was taking out the competition I have a lot of killing to do in a very short amount of time."
"We're just making the rounds with the interested buyers," Hilton tries to defuse the situation. "Let them know to be careful."
"Oh, yes," Moira says, shifting on the couch. "And I'm overwhelmed that Detective Lance is concerned for our safety."
Lance grinds his teeth.
"Well, thank you for your concern, gentlemen," Walter says. "Our security consultant, Mr. Diggle, is taking all the necessary precautions."
"Yeah," Lance says. "Right."
"Why are all these conversations between your parents and Quentin so terribly awkward?" Felicity whined.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because they all hate each other at this point in time?" Oliver answered sarcastically.
Lance stands to head out and Hilton follows his lead. "Well, if you need us," Lance calls in parting, "We're just a 911 call away."
Later, Oliver and Tommy have gone to Max Fuller's club. "Oh, my, this is gonna be killer," Tommy says as they enter the outer doorway.
"If Max Fuller sees me here, I agree," Oliver answers cheerfully.
"Ah, if you want to run a business you've gotta take a few risks," Tommy teases as the bouncer lets them in.
"I don't see your name on the list," the bouncer tells Diggle, stopping him.
"Mr. Queen," Diggle calls, stopping Oliver and Tommy.
"Oh," Oliver says, turning around. He points at Diggle. "I have never seen this guy before in my life," he tells the bouncer. "Ever."
Tommy laughs and the two of them continue on, leaving Diggle behind.
"Mean," Felicity muttered.
Elsewhere in the club, Joanna is trying to get Laurel to dance. She is failing. Tommy sees her, and he and Oliver come over. "Oh, wow!" Tommy teases. "Doesn't you going out and having fun violate some kind of law, you know, like the ones that are carved on a stone tablet?"
"That's cute, Tommy," Laurel says, unamused.
"Thanks," he answers.
"I can see you two are up to your old hunting patterns," she observes, looking between him and Oliver.
"Just seeing what passes for fun in Starling City after five years," Oliver said playfully.
"Ah," Laurel says knowingly. "Well, I'm sure you'll find that it just hasn't been the same without you."
A very drunk Thea comes running over at that moment. "Big brother," she says in a sing-song voice. "Oh, I am so wasted right now. There is… there is two of you."
Tommy and Laurel turn back to the bar, not wanting any part of the awkward moment. Oliver shakes his head in confusion. "I thought you were grounded," he says.
At the bar, Tommy shoves Laurel a drink and takes one himself.
"I am," Thea agrees. "And thank you for that, by the way."
Oliver looks at her. "You're done for the night," he says firmly.
"Oh, what are you gonna do," Thea mocks him. "Tell Mom?"
"Thea!" Oliver exclaims. "You are hanging with the wrong people."
Thea raises her eyebrows in disbelief. "You're one to talk," she laughs. "And how much do you know about your own so-called friends over here?"
"Whoa," Tommy exclaims, turning around. "Thea, maybe you shouldn't…
"Tommy," Thea interrupts him. "I think your BFF has a right to know."
Oliver has had enough. "Thea," he says firmly. "Let's go."
"Well, I guess they never told you that they've been s******* while you were gone," Thea tells him.
Oliver just stares at her, his expression not changing at all. Tommy and Laurel look at each other uncomfortably.
"Oof," Edward observed.
"Look man, I…" Tommy starts.
"Tommy," Oliver interrupts.
The two friends look at each other, Tommy guiltily and Oliver calmly. "It's okay," Oliver tells him.
He looks back at Thea and his voice takes a harsher tone. "You and me, we're done for the night," he almost growls.
He grabs her arm and starts pulling her away, but she hits him and he lets go. "Take your hands off of me," she shouts at him. "You're not my father. And you're barely my brother."
She walks away, and Oliver stands there for a moment, his expression showing his hurt.
"Ollie…" Thea started, but Oliver just looked at her and shook his head with a smile. She smiled back.
"Well, well," comes another voice from behind him. "Look at this!"
Oliver's expression changes from hurt to annoyance to anger and then back to neutral, so fast that the viewers barely see it. "Oliver Queen," the voice continues mockingly.
Oliver turns around. "Max Fuller," he says. "How you been?"
"Happy you drowned," is his immediate response.
"Dang," Edward commented again. "Nobody liked you when you came back, did they?"
Oliver glared at him.
Oliver's fake smile fades immediately.
Max's bodyguards hustle Oliver into a back room. Oliver turns around. "Hey, Max," he starts, but is interrupted by a right hook from Max.
He takes the punch, turning his head, then belatedly falls on the ground, punching it as he gets up, his frustration at not being able to fight back clear on his face. "Get him up!" Max shouts, and his bodyguards pull Oliver up.
"Hey, let him go, let him go!" Tommy shouts, rushing into the room. "Hey, I said let him go!"
He darts around the guards to stand in between them and Oliver. "Told you he was gonna be p*****," Oliver tells him from behind.
"Back off, Merlyn, this isn't your problem," Max tells him.
"You wanna get to him?" Tommy says bravely. "You've gotta go through me."
He turns and looks at Oliver, then back at the guards. "Wow, they are probably gonna go through me," he observes, and then tries to steal the advantage by punching first.
There is a short brawl, but Tommy is felled quickly, and Oliver, obviously holding back, is knocked down soon after. Max stands back, enjoying the show, but suddenly he is punched twice in the kidneys from behind, then has his knee kicked out from other him. Laurel appears, grabbing his arm and twisting it, and he falls to the ground. "So, is this over, Max?" she asks. "Or are you going to have your boys pound on me next?"
Max pulls himself to his feet. "You three consider yourselves banned for life," he says, panting. "Get the h*** out of my place!"
Oliver and Tommy stand as Max and his men leave. "Your club sucks anyway!" Tommy shouts after them.
"You guys okay?" Laurel asks.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" Oliver says quietly.
"Cop dad, remember?" Laurel says like it's obvious. "He made me take self defense classes."
She turns to walk out. "Laurel," Oliver calls after her. "What Thea said…"
Laurel spins around. "Oliver, Tommy and I don't need your blessing," she says firmly. "And I don't need your forgiveness."
She leaves, the two of them staring after her.
Back on the island, Oliver wakes up in the cave, the arrow now out of his shoulder. Yao Fei is sleeping a few feet away from him. Oliver pulls himself up, grimacing and holding his arm close to him, and leaves the cave. He runs through the forest, trying to get away. He trips on some English ivy and falls, but pulls himself up and keeps going. His wound is still bleeding heavily, and he almost topples over before catching himself on a downed tree. He coughs and continues on, his pace much slower. However, he doesn't make it far before he is trapped in a net and hoisted up into the air.
In the present/past, Diggle has taken Oliver and Tommy to Big Belly Burger. "Why don't you guys, uh, take a seat, and I will grab a couple of burgers and some ice for those faces," he says, waving at a waitress.
"The girl's pretty cute," Tommy observes.
"That's my sister-in-law," Diggle says dryly.
"Who I will never speak to, or look at…ever," Tommy quickly pivots. "Gonna grab a booth."
He quickly walks away.
There are chuckles around the room.
"She's not wearing a wedding ring," Oliver observes. "Brother out of the picture?"
"Yeah, you could say that," Diggle answers.
Oliver turns to Diggle and gives him a comforting nod, which Diggle returns gratefully.
Oliver watches Diggle a moment longer before Diggle heads over to his sister-in-law and Oliver heads towards Tommy's booth.
"Hey, you," Diggle says, greeting his sister-in-law.
"So sweet of you to adopt two white boys," she says teasingly. "They need a good role model."
"That's my client, Oliver Queen," Diggle explains.
He points at Oliver, who, across the room, groans as he sits down in the booth. "Looks like you're doing a bang-up job protecting him," Carly observes.
"Hm," Diggle says, taking the lovingly said criticism in stride.
In the booth, Tommy and Oliver look at each other for a moment. "Look, man," Tommy says finally, looking into his lap. "About Laurel…"
He looks timidly up, almost fearfully. "I was gonna tell you," he states. "I was just trying to figure out the right way."
"To tell someone that you slept with their girlfriend after they went missing and were then presumed dead," Oliver finishes. "What, there's no greeting card for that?"
They both laugh, and the tension is broken. "Look," Tommy says seriously. "It was wrong. And I'm sorry."
"Tommy," Oliver says, just as seriously. "I was dead."
"No, man, y-you were with Laurel," Tommy says firmly. "And whether you were dead, or, as it turns out, alive, on a deserted island, you are my friend. And me being with Laurel violated that friendship in about 50 different ways."
"Thank you," Oliver says, staring at the table. "But it's okay."
He looks back up at Tommy, who just looks at him sideways, not sure whether or not to believe him.
At the counter, Dig and his sister-in-law are still talking. "How dangerous is this gig, anyway?" she asks.
"It's a cakewalk, Carly, don't worry," Diggle assures her.
"Too late," she responds. "Or have you forgotten this job got your brother killed? Because Dig, I haven't. I can't."
She walks away.
In the booth, Tommy is still confused. "You are being really chill about this," he says. "I…"
He is interrupted by Oliver's phone ringing. Oliver pulls it out. "Hello?" he answers.
He listens for a moment, and then lets off a stream of rapid-fire Russian. When Tommy frowns in confusion, he puts the phone to his chest. "It's a Russian model calling me," he covers.
Tommy laughs. "Can we…" Oliver continues. "Can I have a minute, please?"
"I can see now why you were able to be so chill," Tommy says, amused. "Enjoy."
He leaves and Oliver puts the phone back to his ear. "So I checked out?" he says in a completely different tone.
"You did," Alexi answers. "His name is Floyd Lawton. I have address. Where he stayed last time he was in Starling City. But that is all."
"Let's hope he's a creature of habit," Oliver returns. "Go."
"1700 Broadway," Alexi tells him. "Papp Motel, room 52. You will leave us out of this, yes? Assuming Mr. Lawton doesn't kill you first."
Oliver hangs up.
Floyd Lawton is looking through blueprints on a dusty ThinkPad. He cracks his neck in anticipation. Oliver, as the Hood, is standing outside the door to his room. In the room, Lawton suddenly looks around, like he heard something. Oliver breaks through the door and fires an arrow, which Lawton manages to dodge. He has a gun attached to his wrist, and fires at Oliver, taking cover behind his bed while Oliver takes cover behind the doorway. When his bullets run out, Oliver fires again, taking out the light. Lawton lifts the bed to cover himself better and catches Oliver's next arrow in the mattress. Lawton fires and Oliver takes cover behind the doorway again. Lawton then throws himself through the window. Oliver runs to the window, but Lawton is long gone. As sirens sound, Oliver hurries back into the room, grabs the now bullet-ridden ThinkPad, and makes his escape.
"Oh, Oliver, is that the bullet-ridden laptop that…" Felicity asked him excitedly.
"Yes," Oliver told her with a smile. "I have never been more thankful in all my life to have lost a target."
"Aww," Felicity cooed, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"What are you talking about?" the D.A. demanded.
"That laptop is how we met," Oliver explained. "You're probably about to see it."
Sure enough, the screen cuts to Queen Consolidated. Felicity is working at her desk, a red pen sticking out of her mouth.
"Oh, the red pen!" Felicity exclaimed. "Wow, it's really weird to see yourself like this."
Oliver just chuckled at her.
Felicity types something and then turns to a file on another part of her desk. Oliver walks in at that moment and clears his throat. "Felicity Smoak?" he asks.
Felicity turns around and takes the pen out of her mouth when she realizes who she's talking to.
"Hi, I'm Oliver Queen," Oliver says when he knows he has her attention.
"Of course," Felicity says and puts the pen on the desk, obviously a bit frazzled. "I know who you are, you're…Mr. Queen."
"No, Mr. Queen was my father," Oliver corrects her.
"Right, but he's dead," Felicity babbles. "I mean, he drowned. But you didn't, which means you could come down to the IT department…and listen to me babble…"
She pounds the pen on the table, trying to stop talking. "Which will end," she insists. "In three…two…one."
She gets control of herself, puts the pen down, and looks at Oliver again, suddenly all business.
"I'm having some trouble with my computer and they told me that you were the person to come and see," Oliver explains, putting the computer on her desk.
She rolls her chair over to look at it more closely. "I was at my coffee shop surfing the web, and I spilt a latte on it," Oliver continues.
"Really?" Felicity questions.
"Yeah."
"Because these look like bullet holes."
She points to the obvious bullet holes in the top of the computer. "My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood," Oliver states.
Felicity tilts her head at him, and he responds with a soft smile. "If there is anything you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it," Oliver finishes the conversation.
Felicity looks at him incredulously for a moment, but then accepts it and nods. "Mm-hmm," she says noncommittally.
In Thea's room, she is texting on her bed when Moira comes in holding two dresses. She stops short when she sees Thea. "Oh," she says, surprised. "Well, good, you're here."
"I'm under house arrest, remember?" Thea says tiredly.
"Do you wanna wear the Calvin Klein or the Zac Posen?" Moira asks, ignoring her last comment.
"To dinner?" Thea asks, confused. "I was just gonna wear pajamas."
"To Walter's stock auction," Moira explains.
Thea scoffs. "I think I'd rather be grounded," she grumbles.
"No, it's important that you come," Moira says firmly.
"Important to whom?" Thea asks grumpily.
"To me," Moira says in an obvious tone.
Thea just scoffs again. Moira looks at her, dismayed. "All right," she says, coming and sitting on her bed. She puts a hand on Thea's knee. "Listen to me. When you were four years old, you came home one day with a cat. It was a stray, it was filthy, and it was mean. But you stood there and declared that it was coming to live with us. Your father came home from the office and he saw what was going on, and he sat you down and explained to you that the cat was, in fact, a tiger, and that we needed to get it home. And somehow, you understood. Robert was always so good at getting through to you. I…I was always so jealous of that. I…"
Moira trails off. Thea is fighting back tears. "You never talk about him," she says. "Dad. That's the first time you've talked about him in years."
Moira considers her words. "Well, I think you and I have gotten into some bad habits," she finally answers. "There's been a lot that has changed recently, Thea, and I think that maybe this can change too."
They look at each other for a moment. "Okay," Moira whispers, and leaves.
Back at Queen Consolidated, Oliver is now seated behind Felicity as she works. "It looks like blueprints," she observes.
"Do you know what of?" Oliver asks, trying hard not to sound too interested.
"The exchange building," she answers.
"Never heard of it," he states.
"It's where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place," Felicity explains.
Oliver just squints at her. "I thought you said this was your laptop," Felicity calls him out.
"Yes," Oliver answers quietly and immediately.
Felicity considers him for a moment. "Look," she says firmly, "I don't wanna get in the middle of some Shakespearian family drama thing."
Oliver looks at her in utter confusion. "What?" he asks.
"Mr. Steele marrying your mom," Felicity explains further.
Oliver just looks at her. "Claudius, Gertrude…Hamlet?" Felicity continues.
"I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools that I dropped out of," Oliver says dryly.
"Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries," Felicity gives up on the metaphor. "And you've got a company laptop associated with one of the guys he's competing against."
"Floyd Lawton," Oliver states.
"No," Felicity corrects. "Warren Patel. Who's Floyd Lawton?"
"He is an employee of Mr. Patel, evidently," Oliver answers lamely.
"The exchange building is surrounded by three towers with eye lines into the building," Oliver's voice says. "Lawton can get his kill shot off from virtually anywhere. But I can't cover the area. I can't protect all of Deadshot's targets. I can't do this alone."
The screen cuts to Lance, heading to his car.
"You actually went to the police?" the D.A. asked incredulously.
"I don't have anything against the police," Oliver answered, confused. "I never have. There's just some things in the city that they're not equipped to deal with. That's what my team and I are for."
"But they're trying to arrest you right now," she says unnecessarily, pointing at the screen.
"Yes, but I've known Quentin since I was an eight-year-old boy," Oliver explained. "I knew how he thought, and I knew that saving the lives of innocent people would mean more to him than catching me."
Lance's peaceful trip back to his car is interrupted when he is slammed onto it from behind by the Hood. "Ah, you son of a b****," Lance curses.
"Detective, quiet," Oliver hisses.
"You've got a pair on you, pulling this one right outside the police station!" Lance growls.
"Floyd Lawton's the one targeting the buyers interested in Unidac Industries," Oliver tells him. "Interpol calls him Deadshot because he never misses. You can look this up after I go."
"Yeah, and stop chasing you, I suppose?" Lance says sarcastically.
"Warren Patel hired Lawton," Oliver continues. "I can't be sure who they're targeting. It might be all the buyers and I can't protect them in a space that big. I need your help."
"Yeah?" Lance laughs painfully. "Professional help?"
"Lawton laces his bullets with curare," Oliver informs him evenly. "Tell your men to wear Kevlar."
"Oh, come on," Lance starts, but he is suddenly released. When he turns, the Hood is gone, an arrow is driven in the hood of his car and the computer is sitting next to it.
At the Unidac auction, the buyers are roaming the halls. Moira and Walter are working the room. "Well, it's quite a turnout, huh," Moira observes once the man they're talking to takes his leave.
"Well, it's quite an opportunity, actually," Walter answers. "But, regardless of the outcome of the auction, I'm already a winner because I have the two most beautiful women by my side tonight."
"Two?" Moira teases.
"Hm," Walter agrees, and nods behind her to Thea, walking towards them.
"Thanks for coming, Thea," Walter says, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "It means a lot to your mother, and me."
Thea smiles at him and hugs Moira. "Mr. Steele," a woman says from behind them, "the auction will be opening in five minutes. Please make sure your bid is ready."
"Thank you, Gina," Walter acknowledges. "Shall we?"
"Hm," Moira agrees.
On the stairs, a plainclothes cop has spotted Patel. "I got him," he radios.
Oliver watches from the balcony as the cop takes Patel aside. "I need you to come with me, sir," he tells him.
"Unit one, all clear," Lance says into a walkie-talkie in another part of the room. "Unit two, you copy?"
"We have Patel in custody," the man radios back. "Still no sign of Lawton."
"Unit three?" Lance asks.
"I'm in the northwest perimeter," a woman answers. "All clear."
"Unit four?" Lance asks.
"Parking structure is secure," a man answers.
"Unit five, what's your status?" Lance radios.
"This is unit five," Lawton answers him. "All clear."
Behind him, leaning against the wall, lays the cop, dead.
"Oh no," Beth breathed.
At the courthouse, Laurel is walking while looking over a case. "Oh, what a shock," Tommy says, startling her.
She turns to see him sitting on a chair to her left. "It is Friday night," Tommy continues. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I am an attorney, and this is a courthouse," Laurel answers. "So, I think the better question is, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk to you about last night," Tommy says, suddenly serious.
"Okay, wait," Edward said, and John obligatorily paused the video. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask," he said, turning to Oliver. "That thing that you're all doing. You're doing it constantly in these, and Tommy does it too. Is that a rich boy thing?"
"What?" Oliver asked, confused.
"That thing where you just…switch gears, seamlessly," Edward explained. "Like there. One minute, he's all happy, and teasing, and then the next he's suddenly deadly serious and talking about a serious topic. At first I thought it was just you, since you're…you, like, the Arrow, and all that, but now he's doing it too."
"Oh," Oliver said, understanding now. "Well, I don't know that that's a 'rich boy' thing, but I think that sort of upbringing certainly helps."
Edward just looked at him, and the entire room was now interested in the answer too. Oliver shifted in his seat, realizing they would need a longer explanation. "Listen," he started. "Everyone always assumes that just because someone's rich, they've had an easy life. That's not true. Sure, Tommy and I may not have had to worry about having the coolest shoes, or food on the table, or anything like that. But being raised in the environment we were creates a whole other set of problems. We grow up too fast. I mean, the tragedies that we both had to deal with didn't help with that, but the truth is that from the time we were able to walk and talk, we were expected to keep up a certain appearance in public. Look up old videos of our public appearances when we were kids, if you're that interested. I guarantee you you'll see two perfectly groomed, well-behaved boys standing placidly next to their fathers, greeting entrepreneurs and celebrities in a way that would make the president proud. Balls, charity galas, state dinners, and the like, we were expected to be present for all of it, and to behave as courteously and mannered as an adult. We were told that our presentation could make or break this or that business deal.
"And then, of course, there were the constant affairs that my father had, Tommy's mother being murdered, my mom almost dying giving birth to Thea. After Tommy's mother died, his father left, for three years, and Tommy lived at our house. My father was always at this or that business function, my mom was first taking care of Thea, and then once Thea was old enough for Raisa to take over her care, she was right there next to my dad. Neither of us spent any time with our parents except for at those functions that we were forced to attend, and as we got older, we got out of them by any means necessary. The more responsible we were made to act in public, the more messy we got in private, and then once we were no longer minors, we caught up on all those years on a foot-long leash. So when you see us switch on and off like that, you're watching the carefully trained child kick in and replace the playboy rebel. We never showed anyone who we truly were. We were neither playboy nor businessman; we simply did what was expected of us in the time and place we happened to be. Expectation is one of the worst things you can put on a child, at least to that level."
He shook his head, old memories coming to the surface. "You want so badly to please your parents, you'll do anything and everything to get their attention, to make them love you as much as you love them," he mused. "You think, if I go to just one more dinner party, they'll finally look at my report card instead of sending me to Raisa. If I get arrested one more time, maybe they'll try to actually parent me instead of leaving me to my own devices all the time. And then, eventually, you learn to not let yourself care. You don't care about anything, because no one else has ever cared about you. It takes a long time to break out of that, and when you do, that's what you're seeing. The old and the new at war with each other. You have to be able to act, to switch in an instant between the 17 year old boy who wants to go out with his friends to the perfect, responsible 17 year old son who will talk business with his father and his father's friends to all hours of the night. That's what you're seeing, Edward. It's just the way we were raised."
Everyone mused over his words for a moment before John continued the video.
"You mean, how I saved your a****?" Laurel teases.
"You see, Laurel isn't phased by it, because she grew up with us," Oliver pointed out. "She may not have been raised the way we were, but she saw firsthand how we were raised. She was there when I broke down over Mr. Lance's kitchen table because my parents wouldn't look at my report card. She was there when I cried because Mr. Lance took my report card and put it up on his fridge next to hers. She was there at Tommy's mother's funeral, when his father yelled at him in front of everyone for crying in public. She was there when the three of us arrived at my house to find my parents arguing because Mom had found out that Dad had had another affair. She was there through all of it."
The civilians looked at him in astonishment, never having realized that there was so much happening on the inside of these families that had been in the public eye for so long.
"You're welcome," Laurel finishes teasing him.
"Okay," Tommy groans, "First of all, we shall never, ever speak of that ever again. And secondly, I think you know that I meant the other thing."
"I don't care to talk about that," Laurel dismisses, walking past him.
"I spoke to Oliver," Tommy calls after her. "He was surprisingly cool."
"That's because he knew," Laurel says, turning to him. "Did you see his face when Thea told him? Tommy, he didn't even blink! Trust me, he knew."
"Then why didn't he say anything?" Tommy asks.
"I don't know," Laurel admits. "Maybe because he knows he doesn't have any right to judge me."
Tommy considers her words for a moment. "There's a silver lining, though," he points out. "Now that the whole truth and nothing but is out, is there a chance now for you and me?"
Laurel looks down, and Tommy nods in understanding. "You said you didn't think that I was a one-girl type of guy," he says gently. "I'm gonna prove you wrong."
"By dating me?" Laurel questions in confusion and a little amusement.
"By being better. By being someone that you deserve, and that you want to be with."
"Well," Laurel considers, "that's certainly a guy I'd be interested in meeting."
Tommy breaks into a wide, genuine smile. "Good," he says happily. "Now, how about we start…" he clears his throat, "by getting you the heck out of here. Come on, it is Friday night."
He offers her his arm, and she takes it. "Come on," he says, more gently.
"Fine," she says with fake annoyance.
"Good," he repeats.
Back at the auction, Oliver walks rapidly towards Lance, standing in a doorway. "Oh, don't you scrub up nice?" Lance greets him grumpily.
"Here to support my family," Oliver says with obvious forced cheer.
"Yeah, me too, G** help me," Lance responds.
"Thank you," Oliver says sinceriously.
Lance just scoffs and walks away.
"So," Edward said, having seemingly gotten up some courage, "if you all grew up together and Mr. Lance was nice to you when you were a kid, why does he hate you so much now?"
The entire room stared at him incredulously. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because Oliver cheated on his daughter with his other daughter and then took the other daughter on his yacht and got her killed?" Curtis said sarcastically.
Edward nodded, like he realized he'd probably asked a stupid question. Dinah glared at Curtis. "Too much?" he whispered.
Dinah nodded. "Too much," she confirmed.
Oliver shakes it off and moves to Diggle. "Dig, got your eyes open?" he asks.
"That's what I'm here for, sir," Diggle answers. "That and answering patronizing questions."
"Dang, Hoss, great burn," Rene complimented Diggle.
Diggle just smiled to himself.
Oliver sighs. "This guy's out of time," he says. "if he's gonna do something it's gonna happen before the auction."
The entire room looked at Oliver. "Were you trying to get yourself caught?" the judge finally asked.
"I was testing him," Oliver explained. "If you think back, you'll realize I had been doing so for weeks. I had vetted him thoroughly, I knew his background. I thought that maybe having his help would be a good thing. That was me throwing him a bone to see if he'd catch it."
"Sir?" Diggle asks, confused.
"I heard the story on the radio," Oliver covers horribly.
Dig stares at him, but their impromptu staring contest is interrupted by Walter. "Oliver," he greets him. "So pleased you're able to attend."
Oliver walks over to him. "Walter, the police said that some of the Unidac bidders were murdered," he states.
In another building, watching them, Floyd Lawton takes aim, at Oliver. "I just think that we should be a little bit more careful," Oliver continues. "My mother's already lost a husband."
"Well, if Moira shared your concern she wouldn't have come," Walter dismisses, "and she definitely wouldn't have brought your sister."
Oliver inhales sharply and looks around the room, finding Thea standing with Moira. He walks over to them without another word.
Lawton is still aiming his rifle, now switching his sights to Walter. Lance stands a few feet from Walter, looking around warily, as Oliver makes it to his mother and sister. "Hi," he whispers, touching his mother's shoulder as he comes around to face them.
"Oliver," she says happily, "what a wonderful surprise."
Oliver doesn't look happy, biting his lip, his face set as he waves Diggle over. Diggle looks at him wide-eyed; he knows something is going on, more than appears to be, but he hasn't figured out what yet. "I need you to get them out of here right now," Oliver orders him.
Lawton turns on his laser sight, and Lance looks over to see the red dot on Walter's lapel. He runs towards Walter without hesitation, tackling him just in time to save his life, but not the waiter standing behind him, who gets hit instead. Everyone screams. "Get out!" a man shouts.
Lawton continues to fire, hitting more people in the room. Some are other bidders and some are random civilians. Oliver has gathered his mother and Thea. He cups Thea's face in his hands. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she responds breathlessly, terrified.
Oliver keeps hold of her shoulders as he turns to his mother. "Are you hurt?"
His mother is being held in one of Diggle's arms as he pulls out a gun with the other. "No, I'm fine," she says. "Where is Walter?"
Across the room, Oliver sees Walter being rushed out of the room by Lance as he shouts "Go, go, go, go, go!" into a walkie talkie.
"Walter's fine," Oliver answers.
"Sir, I have to get you out of here," Diggle tells him.
"No, them!" Oliver shouts, pointing at his mother and sister. "Them!"
He runs off without another word, leaving his family in Diggle's care. "All right, go go go!" Diggle says, hustling them both out of there. "I'll find him, ma'am," he tells Moira as she tries to fight him. "I'll find him."
Oliver runs up several flights of stairs and takes apart a trash can, pulling a bag out of it and retrieving his green hood. He runs up the stairs again, taking them with him.
Lawton is still firing into the room.
Diggle runs up the stairs after Oliver, his gun at the ready. He stops and stares at the pieces of the trash can, then continues up the stairs.
Oliver fires a grappling arrow into the outside wall of Lawton's hideout and swings in through the window. Lawton switches gears and fires at Oliver, who takes cover behind a pillar, getting off a shot when he can. Eventually, Lawton stops shooting and walks slowly towards Oliver's cover, but Oliver isn't there anymore. He continues searching the room. Suddenly, he is hit from behind. They fight briefly, but eventually separate, and Oliver takes cover again. "Drop your guns," he calls.
"I admire your work," Lawton says in answer. "Guess you won't be extending me any professional courtesy."
"We're not in the same line of work," Oliver says angrily. "Your profession is murder."
"You've taken lives," Lawton reminds him.
"For the good of others," Oliver counters. "You're out for yourself."
Lawton scoffs and fires on Oliver' s cover. Oliver fires blindly at Lawton, and the shooting stops. After a few moments of silence, Oliver steps out from behind the pillar and stares at Lawton, who is lying on the floor with an arrow through his eye.
"I thought you said you didn't kill him?" the D.A. said in confusion.
"I didn't," Oliver answered. "He isn't dead."
Oliver stares at his body for a moment, and then startles at a groan behind him. He spins around, an arrow at the ready, and sees Diggle, leaning against the wall. He had come looking for Oliver and gotten shot instead. Oliver runs to his aid and supports him, leading him out.
The screen flashes back to the island. Oliver has fallen asleep, from exhaustion and blood loss, inside the net. Yao Fei has found him, and reaches through the net to tap Oliver's knee with his machete. Oliver startles awake. "Shagua," Yao Fei says bitingly. "Zhege difang tai weixianle, renhe yige duchu."
"Fool," Oliver translated. "This place is too dangerous for any one man to be alone."
He cuts Oliver down, and he falls to the ground, still tangled up in the net. "Tamen hui shale ni," Yao Fei continues angrily.
"They'll kill you."
"Lovely," the D.A. observed grumpily.
Yao Fei walks off without another word, leaving Oliver to untangle himself and follow, which he does in a hurry when he hears something approaching. Only a few moments after they clear the area, two heavily-armed men dressed in black from head to toe find the net, examine it, and walk away.
"Who were they?" Benji asked.
"I'm sure you'll see soon," Oliver answered shortly.
In the present/past, Oliver carries Diggle down the stairs to his lair.
"Wait, you actually took him to your little hideout?" the D.A. asked in astonishment. "What about a hospital?"
"Lawton laces his bullets with curare, remember?" Oliver reminded her. "Dig didn't have time. Curare is a fast acting poison. By the time the hospital figured out what was going on, because they certainly wouldn't treat him just on the say-so of the vigilante the police is hunting, he'd already be too far gone for any of their treatments to work. Dig needed the herbs that I used. They're…they're special."
The D.A. looked like she wanted to ask something else, but the look in Oliver's eyes, haunted and angry, kept her quiet.
Oliver lays Diggle down on the table and then quickly crushes some of the herbs and mixes them with water. He lifts Diggle's head and pours the concoction into his mouth. Diggle coughs, but swallows. Diggle passes out, and Oliver leaves him be.
Eventually, Diggle comes to and looks over to see Oliver, unmasked, leaning on a table across from him. Oliver takes a couple steps towards him. "Hey," he says nonchalantly.
The screen goes black.