Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow.

Didn't intend for Quentin to come out like this, but... hey, it works. I did a mostly decent Quentin in Vigilantes Dawn and Siege, so let's try nasty Quentin.

I don't know what it is, but for some reason, the idea of using Diggle as Olivia's bodyguard/helper/etc like canon did for Oliver didn't sit with me. So after some consideration, and a suggestion from CiceroCat on the Lauriver Discord, I went with one of the other people they were considering as a 'replacement' for Laurel in episode 5x11 before they settled on Tina/Dinah/Whoever. That whole plotline was ick, but at least I'm using a character that technically exists, even if they're effectively an OC.

I don't know the name of whoever provided the face they used for Tara Michele in the show, but you can find that image on the Wiki, to get an idea of what she looks like.

Different Queens

By Kylia

A Guy In A Green Hood

Quentin Lance was not a particularly devout man. If there was a god out there, the bastard really enjoyed fucking with him, when he wasn't killing his daughter and letting a spoilled partygirl billionaire survive.

One of the many ways the universe loved to mess with him was the fact that he was here, in Queen Mansion, taking the damn witness statement of that same bitch who got his daughter killed.

Part of Quentin had almost wished the kidnappers had gotten away with their little scheme. Anything to knock the Queens down a peg or two, especially now. But kidnapping was still a crime, and Quentin was not okay with people breaking the law in his city, even for a good cause.

And these bastards had killed a store owner taking out the trash just to hide witnesses, so...

He had to do his damn job. And he had to find out who had killed three more people in his city.

You don't get to just kill people. Not even criminals. Not in my city.

It wasn't that simple. Murderers got away with it all the time. But you had to try. Just being near Olivia Queen made Quentin's blood boil, but he held it back, focusing on trying to identify this new killer.

"Let me get this straight. These kidnappers had you, you and Merlyn here, and then they... what? Untied you at the same time some guy in a green hood flies in and takes them out?" Not that Quentin had a better explanation for what happened. There was no way the girl in front of him had killed them, and Merlyn was even less likely to have done it.

But it all sounded very convenient. And ridiculous.

"Like I said," Olivia said, with a level of calm that you rarely saw in kidnapping victims an hour or two after things were done, "one of them took out a phone, and told me they were going to call my mother, and I just had to tell her they wanted ten million dollars."

"And then this guy in the hood comes after them, kills two and chases the last one down half a city block and kills the last one. Why?"

"I didn't stop to ask him," Olivia pointed out, and Quentin rolled his eyes. Save me from people who think they're so clever.

"Of course not, but do you have any theories? Any family friends who like to wear green?" Quentin snapped.

"No. Find him, and you can ask him yourself. I'm just grateful to still be alive."

"Do you know anything about the men who took her?" Moira Queen cut in, standing behind the couch where her daughter was sitting. She raised an eyebrow, and Quentin could tell she was just looking down her nose at him.

"No. No prints in the system, no IDs, the guns were generic dime-a-dozen from any arms dealer," Hilton cut in, before Quentin could answer. "Professionals, clearly."

"Well, they were asking for ten million, so that makes sense. Seems a bit low, for a Queen's Ransom," Quentin added. He wasn't going to get anything else out of Queen. He looked over at Merlyn, "What about you? Any ideas about your rescuer?"

Merlyn shook his head, "No - no. I just... I was still pretty out of it, it was all..." he gestured vaguely, groping for words. "Shadows and movement."

"Right." Quentin sneered. It wasn't that he expected much better, from any witness in a situation like this, but from these two? They just couldn't not make his life more annoying. What Loren was thinking when he decided to be friends - and worse - with these rich kids I'll never know.

"We'd like you to come to the station, sit down with a sketch artist, see if you can give us an idea about this man with the hood," Hilton cut in, looking at Olivia.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Fine." She stood up, but before she could say anything else, or do anything else, the door opened and Loren came in, moving hurriedly.

"Olivia!" Loren approached, quickly, lifting his arms a moment as if to hug her, and then stopping short. "I - I came as soon as I heard. I'm - I'm so sorry I didn't- the case and-" Loren paused. "Are you - are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I promise," Olivia said quietly. "They had... they had guns. There were three of them..." She swallowed, voice breaking. "They killed a guy, just because he was there."

"I still should have been there," Loren shook his head.

"I'm fine too, Loren, if anyone cared," Tommy volunteered, a sardonic smirk on his face as he stood and waved, as if to call attention to himself.

"Oh, like anything could ever stop you from being a pain in my ass," Loren grinned, pulling Tommy in for a quick hug before pulling back. He looked from Tommy to Olivia. "You're sure you're both okay?"

"Still kinda hurts from getting tased, but that's it." Tommy shrugged.

Quentin bit his lip, and headed for the door, Hilton coming behind him.

What the hell is Loren doing getting so worked up about Olivia Queen anyway? He's engaged for crying out loud. He was all set to hug her like they were still dating - barely held back and -

Intellectually, Quentin knew it was a bit stupid, but he liked McKenna Hall. A woman with some real substance to her, more than Queen had ever been. A cop, which worked even better. She was the best thing to have happened to his son, and he wasn't going to let Queen ruin that by trying to get his son back or... something.

Why else would Queen have shown her damned face at the station earlier? And Loren was just... letting it happen. He'd gone to dinner with Queen yesterday, as if the bitch hadn't murdered his sister, as good as!

"Is this gonna be a problem, Quentin?" Hilton asked, pointedly, as they got outside, approaching the car.

"What?" Quentin demanded, pulled out of his stewing rage by Hilton's words.

"I know how you feel about the Queens, and I don't blame, you, especially with Olivia Queen back, but -"

"It's not like we'll have to deal with her more, once we get her to sit down with a sketch artist. I know how to do my damn job, Lucas." He snapped, then paused, taking a breath. "Sorry." He muttered.

"It's okay. I get it." Hilton held up a hand, defensively. His partner did get it, but he also could tell Hilton didn't approve, from the way he said it, defensive, cautioning. "Just - let me know, man. I don't want to see the Queens try and sue you for harassment."

"That won't happen because you're going to leave Olivia alone, Dad," Loren said, coming out the door as he spoke, keeping his voice quiet, level. And he was glaring at him.

"It's not my fault I got handed this case, Loren," Quentin countered, but Loren shook his head.

"That's not what I mean. You didn't have to harass Olivia when she came by the station earlier. And I could practically feel you hating her for something she didn't do the entire time all three of us were in the same room." Loren closed most of the distance between them. "Leave her alone, Dad. She's been through enough."

"Your sister is dead and she's still here and you're calling that enough!?" Quentin demanded with a low hiss.

"Dad, Sara said yes to getting on the yacht because she wanted to!" Loren countered. Quentin rolled his eyes. Sara had been - his little girl had always hung around Olivia too much. Let the girl's money go to her head. But Loren went on. "Because whether either of us like it or not, Sara liked to party, she liked to drink, dance, go to the club and have fun. All of which she had every right to do! She wasn't some flawless perfect little baby girl, Dad! How many times did you cover for her shoplifting? Her drunk and disorderly? The marijuana charge?"

"Don't you dare disrespect the memory of your sister like that!" Quentin snapped, and Loren let out a growl, one hand going to his hair a moment, pulling at it. "She was a good-"

"Yes, she was! She was my sister, and an amazing person and I wish to God everyday she was still here, still with us!" Loren agreed. "But she wasn't perfect any more than I am, and she made her own choice to get on that yacht! Olivia didn't hold her at gunpoint and force her." Loren let out a long, furious sigh. "I will be talking to Mom about this. You know she hates the way you talk about Theo, she's not going to like you doing this any more than she did that!"

Quentin inhaled sharply. He loved his wife, and he counted his lucky stars she'd been there to help him from running too far into the bottle after Sara died, but the way Dinah refused to understand that Queen was the problem, had always been the problem...

"You keep defending her like this - what next? Are you going to break things off with McKenna, so you can go back to Olivia? Ruin your life over that- that - slut!?" It wasn't like the tabloids hadn't made it clear just how many men she'd been with, during those times when she hadn't been with Loren.

Quentin saw Loren's hands ball into fists, and for a moment, Quentin thought his son was about to lose it entirely and punch him - punch him for saying the truth! - but after a moment, Loren let out a long, slow exhale, rolling his neck a little and loosening his hands.

His tone didn't get any less angry, though.

"This may be news to you, Dad, but I can be friends with Olivia - I was friends with her for years before I dated her! - and still be with my fiance. I love McKenna, and that's not changing. But Olivia is my friend, and she's going to stay my friend, and I'm not going to stop being happy that I have my best friend back." Loren scoffed. "Just -" Loren let out another breath. "Just stay out of things you don't understand, Dad."

Loren turned, moving towards his own car, slamming the door behind him as he got in, the engine starting quickly.

When did my son become such an idiot? Quentin sneered mentally, then he turned to Hilton. "Not a word," He grumbled, and Hilton held up a hand.

"Wasn't gonna say anything."

Security

Olivia had planned on waiting, to start her mission once time had passed, to keep distance between her return, and the activities of a vigilante. She had other plans to help deflect attention, but time was the best solution.

But then things had changed: The kidnapping, people asking about her father.

There was a chance it hadn't been about the List - but it was a small chance, and Olivia couldn't take it. Someone had hired these men. Not to kidnap her for money, but to find out what Robert Queen had told her.

Had someone sabotaged the Yacht? Or did they just worry what a dying man might say? Olivia had assumed for five years that it had been an accident. Something... something terrible. Something... awful.

But something accidental.

And now? Now Olivia was left to wonder.

But it meant that she couldn't delay. Whoever had hired those men was unlikely to stop just because they'd failed. And if the hooded vigilante didn't reappear, then whoever hired them might just thing Olivia really was the one who killed his muscle.

And to make matters worse, Loren was looking into Adam Hunt. Who had killed multiple people to cover up his embezzlement. Would he draw the line at killing an inconvenient cop?

All of these facts made it all the more unhelpful that her mother, after years and years of not hiring her a personal bodyguard like so many of her peers, had finally decided she needed a babysitter.

And it couldn't be someone incompetent and easy to avoid.

Tara Michele was private security, and she carried herself like a woman who had seen combat, and lots of it. Olivia hadn't had a chance to do a background check yet, since she'd literally just met the woman, but...

She had a very no-nonsense vibe, and unlike some of the bodyguards some of her fellow rich kids at Balloi Prep, she looked like she actually could enforce that.

"So..." Olivia said as the car entered Starling itself. "What should I call you?"

"Tara's fine," she answered, shrugging. "I'm not picky."

"I assume you're ex-military?" All the security on the Manor itself was, so far as Olivia knew.

"Army Special Ops," Tara nodded. "Retired." She sighed, "I appreciate you didn't ask for and don't want a bodyguard, Miss Queen, but I will be doing my job, whether you like it or not."

"Blunt," Olivia observed. She kept her eyes out the window, looking like she was just watching the buildings, cars and pedestrians go by. But what she needed was the perfect moment to get out of the car.

"I find it pays to set expectations up front," Tara explained. "Your mother may have hired me, but you're the one I'm working for."

"...She's also the one who signs your paycheck, so what does that mean?" Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It means, Miss Queen, that your secrets are yours, and I'm not here to report on you to your mother, or to anyone else. I can't protect you if you're trying to hide things from me." Tara explained, in a surprisingly conversational tone. Olivia blinked, confused at what Tara was getting at, and the woman must have seen that in the rearview mirror, as she went on: "You're not the first woman in your position that I've been security for," Tara explained. "If there's something you want to keep from your parents, the paparazzi, or anyone else, that's entirely your right. But you can't be keeping those kinds of things from me, or I can't do my job. My only job. If you're going somewhere, meeting someone - I don't need all the details, but I do need to know enough to keep you safe."

"And my mother is okay with that?" Olivia had assumed the bodyguard would be a minder in other ways, to keep her out of trouble.

"I made my terms clear when she hired me," Tara said. "If she wants someone to protect your reputation as well as you, or someone who would report back on your activities, or your social life, she could have hired someone else."

Well, that's good to know, but I don't think she'd be quite so blase about what I'll actually be doing.

Instead, Olivia deflected. If her memory of the intersection after this one was right, it would be the perfect place to get out and get to the old steel mill.

"So, what, you saw a few tabloid stories about me, and assumed you knew what bodyguarding me is going to be like?" Olivia asked, flatly. I could just fall back into old habits, publicly. No one would be surprised.

But Olivia wouldn't be able to perform the drinking, the partying, the sleeping around without at least doing it a little.

"Miss Queen, the tabloids are trash and the paparazzi parasites." The conversational, friendly-but-professional tone she'd been using broke a little as she mentioned her views on two of the banes of Olivia's old life, hinting at more than just a normal distaste for bottom feeders. "I don't make assumptions based on that. But, like I said I have provided security for women in your position who would like to be allowed to keep some parts of their own lives private. Even from family. I respect that. I just need to make sure I can protect you while you do it."

Olivia frowned. It would be easier if this woman was being less reasonable. But on the other hand, Olivia had no way of knowing if Tara was being honest, or just a stellar liar. And... well, there was privacy and there was breaking the law.

"So. Do we have an understanding?"

Olivia watched as they reached her chosen intersection. If she got out... right there. Almost...

"I'll get back to you on that," Olivia answered, opening the door and tucking and rolling out, ending up on the sidewalk and running towards an alley. Once she had enough distance, she could get moving in the right direction.

Hunting Hunt I

Adam Hunt was predictable. Barring some kind of emergency, he left his office the same way, every day, at the same time. And he always parked in the same spot, on the same floor of his building's parking structure. Every time. Every day.

Habits might be easy.

They also made you vulnerable.

And parking garages were just full of places to hide, good vantage points for a bow.

"...remind Judge Grell that I put him on the bench, if I see his name on a single warrant, I'll take him off of it." Hunt snarled to another man in a suit. "And find me everything you can on this Detective Lance." Hunt scoffed, "How the hell did I manage to land a squeaky clean cop in this city?"

"How do you want to resolve this, sir?" The man asked.

"I'll decide out once you find out everything there is to know about Detective David Loren Lance. Family, friends, associates, financials, education history, every skeleton in that little bastard's closet. Address too. No one investigates me for murder, and no one threatens to serve me with a search warrant. I want it all done and on my desk by the time I come in, day after tomorrow."

"Yes sir." The lawyer nodded, ducking back, heading for the stairs.

Olivia's grip on her bow tightened, and she held back form shooting the man before he could start looking at Loren's life under a microscope. The lawyer wasn't the problem. Hunt was.

There won't be any skeletons in Loren's closet for Hunt to leverage. Which meant, sooner or later, Hunt would go with the last option in the bribe-blackmail-kill trifecta that had kept him out of prison for this long.

Olivia exhaled slowly, quietly. He might be about to try to hurt Loren, or worse, but he wouldn't have the chance. His latest Ponzi scheme was carefully constructed, but reliant on liquidity. A liquidity that Olivia was going to make sure he didn't have.

One way or the other.

Hunt was close to his car now. Too far from the stairs or the exit to run in time. And he wouldn't get the chance to take his car anywhere.

First, she turned on her voice modulator.

A single arrow into the light fixture, an explosion of sparks. Everyone turned, dumbstruck, not realizing the danger they were in.

Olivia fired again, arrow connecting with one of Hunt's guards, in the side. He wouldn't die, if he got to a hospital. Olivia was here for the men on the List, not their goons. If they didn't need to die in getting to their boss, she wouldn't kill them.

How many people has he killed for Hunt, though? A man like Hunt could hardly do his own killing.

Olivia moved quickly from her vantage point, leaping, grabbing onto another overhang as the other guard started firing at where she'd been before, a spray of bullets. Loud, flashing fire, and achieving nothing.

"Over here," Olivia called out, making her voice deeper even as the modulator scrambled her voice more. The vigilante was a guy, as far as people needed to be concerned. She moved again, leaping, landing, rolling, moving quickly at another angle, more useless bullets and then one, two arrows fired, one in each shoulder, sending the guard to the ground.

They don't know what they're dealing with. Who uses arrows? Olivia couldn't count on the bodyguard of the city's scum.

Hunt was in his car, no doubt cowering. Olivia didn't need to run any more. She walked, slowly, firing another arrow into the window, shattering it.

She could see Hunt, peeking up, through the shattered window. He scrambled, opening the door, trying to run. She fired, an arrow passing inches over his head, he screamed, tripping, falling, rolling into his back.

She was close, and she could see the terror in his eyes, hear it in his voice. For the first time, Adam Hunt wasn't in control, and he was terrified.

Many many people has he done the same too? Olivia knew it would be justice to kill him here, now. For all his crimes.

But if he was dead, his ill-gotten gains would stay with his company. If she brought his whole house of cards down, while he lived...

"What - what do you want! Just! I have money! Do you want money!?" The man tried to demand, but the shaking of his voice, the volume belied any sense of control he had over the situation.

Olivia crouched by him, pressing an arrow to his neck, her bow held loosely in one hand.

"Adam Hunt. You failed this city. You've spent years robbing from innocent families and getting away with it by killing anyone who got in your way." Olivia growled, looking down at him, the hood, the shadows, Hunt's own terror covering enough, hiding her face, enough.

"It ends tonight. You're going to transfer 40 million dollars into Starling City Bank, Account 1141." Olivia went on, and Hunt's eyes widened. He knew how much he stood to lose if he surrendered that sort of money all at once. "And you're going to do it by ten pm tomorrow."

She shouldn't be giving him this chance.

But she was given a chance once too, when she didn't deserve it. And if she gave Hunt a chance to make things right, everyone else on the List - some of whom hadn't even killed anyone - would know there was a way to at least stay alive.

"Or what?" Hunt tried to demand, breaking heavily, eyes on the arrowhead digging into his skin rather than her.

"Or I'm going to take it." Olivia assured him. She pulled the arrow away from his neck and dug it into the sleeve of his jacket, into the asphalt, just a little. He'd rip his sleeve free easily enough, but not for a moment. "And you won't like how." She stood, turning away. "40 Million. 1141. 10pm, tomorrow."

"So that's it!" Hunt shouted as she walked away. "You don't get to threaten me! No one threatens Adam Hunt!"

Not a threat, Hunt. A promise.