Of the many pleasures he'd enjoyed since gaining independence, the occasional spot of hashish was one of his favorites. So much so that he'd commissioned the forging of a platinum-gold engraved pipe to enjoy it in style. Through the thin cloud of smoke from his exhalation, he saw three figures entering his office, two flanking the middle—who looked none too happy to be there. As soon as they stopped moving, he took another puff from the pipe, a small one, and slowly blew it out, intentionally making his guest wait. Then he sat up and took a deep breath.

"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Diaz?"

His jaw clenched as he considered his answer. "Gonna take a guess and say, 'progress update?'"

He answered with a mild chuckle. "No. If I need that about you, I can just ask one of your people. No need to waste your time with it." Another puff, another forced wait. "You're here because things are moving elsewhere, perhaps a little quicker than expected."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning your part in this drama is nearly finished." He gauged the look in Diaz's eyes. "Which really ought to come as a relief for you, considering how badly you've been losing this petty little war of yours."

"This new Green Arrow is different, doesn't fight the same, doesn't think the same."

"And in the past few months, you still haven't managed to adapt." He leaned back. "Still acting like you're fighting Oliver Queen." A smirk. "You're a stubborn bastard, I'll give you that." Another puff. "But that won't help you anymore."

Diaz's head cocked a bit. "You think he's comin' for me."

"Oh, I know he is." He scraped about the inside of the pipe, rustling the embers. "It's not in his nature to fight a war on two fronts. He needs to eliminate you before taking on the big fish."

Diaz scowled. "You know who he is."

"Oh yes."

"You've known all this time."

"Of course. But that knowledge would never have helped you."

"Why?!"

He met Diaz's eyes, glaring just enough to make him hesitate. "Because Oliver Queen chose him as a successor for a reason. His name is meaningless. He has no address on the web, no profile on social media, no pressure points for you to exploit. Every tool and means you used to destroy the first Green Arrow—he renders them useless."

Ricardo snarled. "Nobody's untouchable."

"Oh, quite so. I'm counting on it, in fact." He smiled widely. "But you could never come close to touching him—with stilts and a ten-foot pole." He picked up a tablet and opened it, laying it on the desk between them. "While you've been putzing around this city playing king, he's been dismantling your infrastructure. Not by attacking the system directly, but by scaring off anyone who might want to work with you."

Diaz went white when he picked up the tablet.

"He's been throttling your supply and demand for months." He pointed the pipe at Diaz. "And you've been so busy trying to find leverage that doesn't exist, you didn't even notice, did you? Do you even know how empty your war chest is? I do."

Diaz swallowed hard and met his eyes. "I can fix this."

He smiled nastily. "No, I'm afraid you can't. You never could. That's…kind of the point I'm driving at." He straightened up and leaned his forearms against the desk. "We entered this partnership with you, not because we expected a return on your investment—not monetarily, anyway. We have more than enough resources to burn a few million dollars in assets."

Ricardo's eyes widened furiously.

"We needed a suitable distraction for him, a villain to fight while the real work was done elsewhere." He smiled and splayed his hands out toward Diaz. "And you've played that role beautifully. There's just one last scene to act out, and you're all done."

"You used me? You son of a bitch—"

Before Diaz could move half a step, his escorts had a blade at his throat.

"They call you the Dragon, yes?"

Diaz met his eyes.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first he's slain." He stood up from the desk, puffing on his pipe and pacing the room.

Diaz swallowed, feeling the blade scrape against his neck. "I can beat him. I just need to set the stage."

"So what's your plan then? Capture a truckload of civilians, wire them to bombs? Threaten to deploy nerve gas at civilian locations until he gives himself up?" He snapped his fingers and pointed at Diaz in mock excitement. "Oh, I know! How about you expose his identity and let the FBI do your dirty work?"

Ricardo's jaw clenched.

His face dropped, finally showing the annoyance he'd been holding back as he motioned the guards to stand down. "Get it through your skull, Richard. He is not Oliver Queen. He's better. Engineered that way, in fact—and he plays to his strengths." He picked up the tablet and brought up the extensive file he'd assembled on the new Green Arrow, throwing it up on a wall-to-wall screen behind him. "He is no one until he needs to be, his resources outstrip yours a thousandfold, and he has been doing this for a very long time." He waved at the screen. "Barely even used a bow before he put on that suit, and yet here he is, putting dozens of your men in the hospital with barely a scratch to show for it."

"Almost sounds like you're on his side."

He laughed sardonically. "Please. Power demands respect, but don't mistake admiration for allegiance. You can't beat him."

Diaz thought for a moment. "I almost had him before. Pinned him with one of his own arrows."

"I'm aware of this incident. I also know that he let you do that."

Diaz stared at him.

"Where unmodified humans are concerned, his strength outstrips anyone on the planet, save perhaps a select few. Make no mistake, if this man wanted you dead, you'd be dead." He strode up to Diaz and got up in his face. "He will come for you, Richard Dragon. He may kill you, he may not, but make no mistake…"

He stepped aside, let Diaz stare at the screen, frozen on a still of Green Arrow sighting down his bow.

"You will do nothing, because you can do nothing." He was silent a moment, to let it sink in. "Just thought you should know, in case you need to set your affairs in order." He returned behind his desk and waved to the guards. "You're dismissed."

Diaz's clenched knuckles were white, and his jaw wasn't much better. Nevertheless, he allowed them to escort him out. A woman in red and black stepped into his office shortly after and leaned against the doorframe.

"You think tellin' him was a smart idea?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter either way. Janus tipped our hand with that ambush in Singapore. Caden will be on the hunt now. But if we're to get what we need, he needs to start asking the right questions." He waved at the door. "And the Dragon knows just enough to give him a running start."

She frowned. "But he doesn't know anythin'."

He smirked. "Exactly."

She blinked slowly. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Don't worry, my dear." He scraped the ashes from his pipe and refilled it. "You will." He lit the pipe and puffed at it to get the embers going. "Now, if you wouldn't mind checking in on the Russian, we could use that package as soon as possible."

"Of course." She made to leave.

He cleared his throat to stop her. "Fionne, you know you're different from him, yes?" He nodded toward the door. "To me, at least?"

She stared at him and smiled a little. "Of course, Lord Adonis."

Adonis smiled and nodded to her. "Good. I expect great things from you." He waved to her. "Carry on."

As she vanished down the hall, he leaned back and took a long drag from his pipe.

…

"And make sure Connor gets to bed early—he will break glass if he wakes up cranky."

"Got it Mrs. Queen!"

Dinah waved to Wally Jr. as she threw her leather jacket on and walked out the door. It had been a long, long time since she'd had an opportunity to ride her bike. The crotch rocket was a gift from her late father, the last he'd ever given her, in fact. Dinah forced the frown off her face. Over a year later and the knife in her chest still wasn't going anywhere. She didn't expect it would for a long time yet.

As soon as her helmet was in place, she kicked the bike on and waited for it to warm up. Winters in Star City were like winters in Chicago—windy and icy—and she had no intention of crashing or catching hypothermia today. Thus, she sped away from their apartment at significantly lower speed than she could have. A long sigh filled her helmet. She loved her son with all her heart, but how long had it been since she'd taken a day for herself and just cruised down the road?

It was like her life had hit the pause button the moment the FBI slapped cuffs on Oliver. He'd chew her out if he could see it, that much she knew. No matter what he was going through, he always expected the best of her—especially when it came to taking care of herself. She made a silent promise to visit him soon.

Dinah squeezed the brakes as she approached her destination, a massive high-rise with an underground parking garage. She waited for the gate to come up, then pulled into a space near the elevator, not even bothering to lock down her bike. It'd be secure as soon as the gate closed, considering that the man she was coming to see owned the whole building. She left her helmet with the bike and strode into the elevator, fingers combing out her helmet hair. She sighed and punched the penthouse key, then closed her eyes, waiting for the ding.

As soon as she heard it, her eyes opened to see a large atrium with milder lighting cast from high-vaulted chandeliers. What really captivated her was the wall-to-wall glass at the far end—and the panoramic view it yielded of the city. Dinah strode up and took it all in, hands on her hips.

"I'm glad you came."

Her head whipped around, seeing the owner descend from a nearby spiral staircase.

"Wasn't sure you would," Caden said.

"You said it was urgent," Dinah answered.

"And important, I think. Especially for you."

"How so?"

He walked past her toward a mini-bar, pulling two glasses from inside. "Do you know about the situation developing in the Middle East?"

"Vaguely." She approached the bar. "Bialya finally fired the first shot against Qurac."

He uncapped a tall bottle with a lime printed on the side, pouring into each glass. "A situation engineered, at least in part, by a mutual acquaintance." He handed her a glass. "The Decembrists."

Dinah froze mid-grab, frowning. "Diaz's mysterious benefactors? Thought you said they were just middlemen."

"That's what we thought. Except for the fact that they're being led by two rogue gods, one of whom tried to murder Jason Wayne around New Year's."

She cautiously took a sip—sparkling vitamin water. "Is this the Janus I keep hearing about?"

"Mhm—and Ares."

Dinah tensed. "He's alive?"

Caden's brows arched. "Wow, you really are out of the loop. The working theory is that Janus pulled him out of the timestream right before Diana disintegrated his ass." He waved dismissively. "Story for another time. None of that's really relevant to why you're here."

She gulped down more water. "Why am I here?"

Caden polished off his glass and met her eyes with a piercing gaze. "It's time. Time to avenge your dad."

Dinah froze, glass halfway to her lips.

"I figured you might want to be there for it."

She set the glass down, both hands on the bar. "You found him."

"Can't say I ever really lost him. I've been using him to gather more intel on the Decembrists, but with things heating up overseas, I can't afford to be splitting my time like this anymore. Richard Dragon has to go."

Dinah frowned, halfway to scolding him for not taking action before revising that thought. "You think they've been using him as a pawn."

"Probably closer to a knight, but yes. Given who Cass encountered in Karbala…" Caden frowned and stared off to the side. "I have a feeling he was only ever a distraction, a convenient way to keep me busy."

"Why?"

His head shook. "Irrelevant, at least for tonight."

Dinah thought for a bit. "So, how do you want to play this? If you know where he is, you could probably call the FBI and be done with it."

Drake sneered. "As if. Dinah, sometimes I swear it's like you don't know me at all."

She sighed. "I just don't know why you'd want me here. I can't interfere with this, not with the way the law is right now. And with my identity known…"

"Figured you'd say that, which is why I spent every day since Karbala backing him into a corner. He thinks he's set a trap for me, but in reality, I chose the arena. And I can make sure no one ties you to the scene." He frowned. "He'll undoubtedly have gathered an army around himself, but we've dealt with worse. I'll take care of them—" he nodded to her, "—but I think you should be the one to handle Diaz."

Dinah frowned at the table, unconsciously curling her hands into fists.

"For Quentin."

She glanced up at him, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This wouldn't bring him back—or Oliver, for that matter. But she'd felt paralyzed and stagnant for so long already, so scared of losing what little she had left. Caden was right. She needed this.

So she opened her eyes and met his, smiling slightly. "Got anything to wear? The FBI confiscated my best jacket months ago."

Slowly, Caden grinned and pushed off the bar, waving her over to an adjacent room. "Got just the thing."

The room was lined wall to wall with weapons of all sorts, from medieval polearms and knives to military-grade rifles and even the odd grenade launcher. At the far end were two large panels of heavily tinted glass, so much that only a faint silhouette could be seen on the other side. Caden smirked and waved her toward the one on the left. As soon as she put her palm against it, the panel slid up to reveal a standing mannequin.

"Welcome back, Black Canary."

…

The chamber, as it happened, was more than large enough for her to suit up in privacy.

And suit up she did.

Black leggings of flexible, reinforced polymer with a corset to match. A navy blue Kevlar jacket with long sleeves and anti-ballistic gel inserts. Shin boots with internal ceramic plating. A teched-out choker with built-in communications and vital sensors. And, of course, fingerless gloves with carbon-fiber knuckles and reinforced joints—for all the weapons in this room, Caden knew she preferred to use her hands.

A black domino mask sat on the head of the mannequin. She left it where it was, preferring instead the circuitry-lined contacts he left in a small box off to the side. These would give her similar functionality to his own mask, with full infrared-spectral analysis, passive sonar scanning relayed from the collar, and real-time augmented reality tracking overlays. He'd really upped his tech game since becoming Green Arrow.

It was as she tightened her gloves and fluffed her hair out of the way of her jacket that she zipped it halfway up and finally exited the chamber. Dinah glanced toward the figure at her left—kitted out from head to toe in forest green that left very little of his body exposed. His mask was considerably fuller than Ollie's, looking more like a skullcap at this angle. In fact, everything except the color was vastly different from Oliver's uniform.

A wide-brimmed hood for better visibility. Armored gauntlets and boots with external plating and pauldrons to match. Slightly separated plates around the chest and joints for maximum movement and protection. She didn't know what it was made of, but she doubted anything short of a tank killer would even put more than a dent in it. With his resources, she wouldn't have put it past him to forge it of titanium—or Promethium.

Caden exchanged a nod with her. Both moved in lock-step toward the elevator, and minutes later, they were screeching onto the streets of Star City with singular intent.

The Dragon's time was up.

…

"Is it in place?"

The technician glanced up from his tablet. "Yes, sir. Fully armed and operational."

Diaz placed a hand on his arm and squeezed none-so-gently. "You better be damn sure."

"I double and triple checked the targeting parameters, per your instructions. Thermal and motion-tracking, rapid 720 degree range of motion, fires 4mm tungsten slugs at a rate that'd cut through tank armor, given a few seconds." He tapped the tablet's screen, projecting a 3D image of the building he then rotated. "And now that the turrets have been programmed with the layout of the building—and the IFF chips we're all wearing—they will only discharge in the event of an untagged entity." He powered down the tablet and grinned proudly. "No one's getting in or out in one piece that isn't us. And if by some miracle he does manage to take out the turrets…"

He waved to the small army of men patrolling the ground floor and the catwalks above.

"It's over, sir. This place is impenetrable."

Diaz scowled and let go of him. "We've thought that before."

He paced back and forth across the catwalk, absently fingering the knife on his belt. Then a faint rumble caught his attention, getting louder and louder by the second. Diaz instinctively reached for his gun and snapped his fingers at the technician. The tech gave him a nod, confirming the turrets were active. Diaz pulled his gun and aimed at the front door, where the roar of a motorcycle could be heard clearly now. Then he frowned and turned his eyes elsewhere. Green Arrow wasn't stupid enough to hit them with a full frontal assault.

So he scanned the emergency exits, the small windows, any and all doors. No signs of movement whatsoever. Frowning, he grabbed the tablet from the technician and pulled up the external cameras. He tabbed over to the front view just in time to see a motorcycle screeching up with a hooded figure on its back. A figure that drew back an arrow and released it as soon as he was out of view.

A deafening explosion followed a moment later, with enough kinetic backwash to hurl the three closest gunmen away from the shattered door. Diaz immediately dropped the tablet and sighted on the door. Both turrets spun into position. He glanced over at the tablet as the tech tabbed through the camera feeds. No motion on any of them. A faint hiss was heard from below. He whipped his head around to see two of his men drop to the ground. Green fletchings stuck out of their shoulders.

"Arrow!" Diaz screamed, scanning the darkness beyond the open door.

Any second, the turrets would open fire. His men were already shooting outside, though given the spread of their fire, he didn't think they could see anything either. Another arrow nailed a perched sniper a dozen yards from Diaz—right through the meaty part of the thigh. Diaz's head whipped around, tracing the arrow's path back to somewhere just outside the building. He popped two shots off before turning to the technician.

"Why the hell aren't they firing?!"

The man scrambled for words, eyes wide and panicked as he feverishly tapped the tablet.

"Simple."

The new voice made Diaz freeze and whip around, toward the far end of his platform.

From the shadows, Black Canary slowly strode out with a deadly smirk on her lips. "He sold them to you."

Diaz blinked and turned to the tablet, eyes wide. There were no unregistered entities in the building. But…that was impossible. The woman who'd sold the turrets was—

"Or didn't you notice just how tall she was?" Canary taunted.

He turned back and glared at her, snarling for a split-second. Then he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. Tinnitus set in a moment before the shot went off as he and the tech were sent flying back by a sonic screech. The unfortunate tech hit his head on a nearby railing and passed out. Diaz just hit his bicep hard enough to drop the gun over the side. Clutching his arm, the Dragon scrambled to his feet and pulled his karambit as soon as he saw Dinah stalking toward him. He charged in first, zigzagging as best he could given the confined walkway. If she decided to keep screaming, she'd make his brain leak out his ears in seconds unless he put her down fast.

Fortunately, it seemed she wanted the satisfaction of beating him to death. Unfortunately, her months off the streets hadn't slowed her down one bit. His first slash at her neck was feinted, and another came from the opposite side. She didn't fall for it, instead tucking her head down and lashing out at his sternum with a hard cross. He felt half the wind knocked from him as she hammered him back. Diaz's offhand deflected a few of her rapid strikes, his knife hand trying to counter by slashing her wrists.

Either she was too fast to be cut at that angle, or those gloves were specifically designed to be tear-resistant. He guessed it was a mixture of both. She dodged and ducked and dipped back when he swung at her face. His low kick was pushed away with both hands, countered with a leaping cross he palmed. His countering headbutt slammed her right in the forehead. Canary stumbled back a step.

Diaz lunged right for her gut.

Suddenly, her gut wasn't there anymore. She'd twisted and dropped so she was almost upside-down, grabbing his wrist with her right hand, then curling her leg around his forearm while her body spun and rolled. The momentum of her rapid falling motion yanked him off-balance and back-first into the grated floor. Dinah recovered faster than he did, fast enough to deliver three fast punches to his armed wrist. So fast, in fact, that he felt his grip go numb a second after he hit the deck.

The karambit fell off the catwalk as he charged into her shoulder-first, tackling her off the ground. Her elbow slammed into his back several times as he carried and slammed her back-first into an overhanging pipe. Dinah coughed hard as she hit the deck, pushing herself halfway up. Diaz immediately went for the kill, wrapping an arm around her neck in a rear naked choke. He tucked his thumbs in to prevent her from breaking one, glancing around while he steadily increased the pressure and lifted her partway off the ground to limit her leverage.

Below, three gunmen clutched their ears as an arrow screeched past them—literally. Some kind of high-pitched frequency was being emitted by the head. It planted itself just behind their firing line—and just out of their reach. While they were distracted trying to turn it off, Green Arrow sprinted in through the breach and tackled one with a flying grab. Another gunman opened fire on him from further back only to riddle one of his comrades with bullets. Arrow didn't flinch and immediately shot back, sticking him through the bicep of his support arm. Without that brace, his muzzle fell partway to the ground.

The precious seconds needed to realign the gun gave Green Arrow the time he needed to close the distance, smack the gun away with his bow, and viciously beat him unconscious. Two more assailants tried to flank him, one throwing a flashbang grenade. GA shot the grenade midair, sending it spinning right back at them. As soon as it went off, he nocked two arrows and nailed them both.

Diaz was so distracted by the carnage below, he failed to notice Dinah had stopped going for his thumbs. The elbow planted in his gut caught him off-guard, but he maintained pressure on her neck with all the strength he had. He caught on too late that she had a different tactic in mind. The legs he'd lifted off the ground rose even further as she curled herself into the air. His eyes widened when he figured it out, a moment before she snapped her hips downward and used her weight and his slight imbalance to flip him head over heels.

He exhaled hard on impact, managing to keep his breath, mostly. Dinah was coughing violently, still trying to recover hers as she clutched her throat and backed away. Diaz scrambled upright and dashed toward her. She opened her mouth and took in a deep breath. He reached her a split-second before she screamed his head off. Her hand intercepted his but didn't stop it in time to prevent him from slapping her throat just hard enough to paralyze her vocal cords. A bloody grin overtook his face as he pressed the attack, chaining a barrage of punches all over her upper body.

Then he concentrated on her face. Canary's raised arms managed a decent defense until he leapt and used gravity to reinforce the impact of a falling elbow. An elbow that missed when she twisted down and away and capoeira kicked him in the side of the head. Stunned, the Dragon swung at her with a backfist. She ducked and slammed his diaphragm with an uppercut bearing her full weight. This time, the wind was knocked right out of him.

She didn't pull back for a second.

Black Canary used her slightly shorter stature to her advantage, attacking his ribs, his hips, his already-spasming diaphragm. He popped a knee up, trying to catch her in the face. She twisted around it and slid on her shins, wrapping both arms around his leg. Then she stood up and planted him back-first on the floor. Diaz windmilled his legs, trying to create distance. Dinah jumped atop the adjacent railing and used it as a mount to corkscrew over him. Her extravagant spinning's true purpose was revealed a moment later when she nailed him midair with a spinning hook as soon as he was halfway to his feet.

Getting his bell rung that hard had Diaz's vision going sideways and double and upside-down. A moment later, the blood rushed back into his head, and then the felt the pain. The pain of her carbon-plated knuckles smashing into his face and shoulders and collarbone.

Then she did it again. And again. And again.

He didn't register the fact that she was screaming until she finally took a breath to inspect her handiwork. Diaz looked up at her with the eye that wasn't swollen shut, seeing her shoulders heaving, tears running down her face. Her jaw was clenched so hard, he could see the veins popping at the edge of her forehead. Then, as if materializing from the ether, Green Arrow stepped into view and stood behind her, completely relaxed. He looked down at the Dragon with utter disdain in his eyes.

Diaz tried to glare back, to snarl, to show any sign of defiance, but his body was already halfway broken. Dinah looked about ready to finish the job, and given the Arrow's air of smug superiority, he wasn't going to stop her.

So he focused his attention on her instead. "Say goodbye to your son, Lance," he slurred through broken teeth. "Soon as the feds know you were here, it's over." He grinned as best he could. "Maybe they'll make an exception, stick ya in a cell next to your husband."

Dinah looked completely unfazed.

"I doubt it," said Green Arrow. "Your camera footage will be easy enough to wipe, and nobody except you and one busted-ass techie even knew she was here. He'll be easy enough to keep quiet, and after everything you've done, your testimony isn't worth shit."

"Maybe," Diaz admitted. "Hard to explain all the busted eardrums, though."

Arrow grinned nastily. "You sure about that?" He pulled something from his quiver, another one of those strange arrows. "Sonic arrow—a mainstay of my arsenal for the last couple weeks, and I've used plenty here."

It was then that Diaz felt an unbearable chill overtake his body. His eye flickered up to the useless turrets, to Dinah's furious countenance, to the sonic arrow, to the piles of unconscious, bleeding bodies below.

"You can't beat him."

Defiance and disbelief surged within him, trying to make his muscles move, trying to exact vengeance for this humiliation, to wipe that insufferable, smug look off this prick's face. Black Canary's kick to the face put a quick end to that.

In the haze of blood and pain, he managed to make out one sentence from Green Arrow to his partner.

"Do what you have to."

Diaz looked up through blurry eyes, seeing Dinah Lance-Queen standing over him with that same blazing fury. Her fists were as clenched as her jaw, and for a moment, he anticipated the cracking and crushing of bone as she beat him to death. Then she opened her mouth and took a deep breath. He slapped his hands over his ears just before she started screaming. About a second passed before that stopped helping.

She screamed and screamed until his vision went triple and blood started leaking through his fingers. The last thing he saw was her shoulders sagging.

Then everything went black.

…

Caden took the smallest of steps toward her when he saw her shoulders shaking. As soon as she stopped screaming, he knelt at Diaz's side and pressed two fingers to his neck.

Still alive. Shame.

But he'd respect her decision. He slapped a pair of handcuffs on the Dragon, along with leg irons that he linked to those cuffs, effectively hogtying the bastard. Then he slung Diaz over his shoulder and carried him from the warehouse with Dinah in tow. A few minutes later, they were sitting on a rooftop some thirty yards from Diaz's unconscious body. Dinah hadn't spoken a word since they left. She just sat on an AC unit, hands in her lap, and gave the rooftop a thousand-yard stare.

He didn't know how long they sat there in silence, taking in the cold night air, before she finally broke the silence.

"I thought…I thought I would feel different."

Caden looked at her. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

Her head tilted a bit. "Maybe it's…because Diaz isn't behind bars yet. Maybe I'm just pissed I couldn't actually go through with it."

He sighed. "Or maybe it was never about Diaz, and you're starting to realize how long you've put off facing all this. Facing the fact that he's gone."

She looked up at him with glistening eyes.

Caden stared at Star City's skyline. "Grief is a…funny, inconsistent thing. Doubly so for people who do what we do, especially when we can't afford to slow down enough to feel it—" he glanced at her, "—or it's easy to find an excuse not to." He winced. "Denial's a bitch. The longer you keep it up, the worse it is when you finally let go."

Dinah stayed silent a while. "I lost…the two best men I've ever known." She glanced in Diaz's direction as her voice cracked. "He took them from me." Her face crumpled partway before she pulled it back. Her breath shuddered. "I don't know what to do. Connor needs me to be strong, to be an anchor in his life because everything else is falling apart." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I can't do this alone."

Chest aching, Caden squeezed her shoulder. "You're not alone." He smiled. "You have a very capable speedster keeping him company. You have a whole cadre of friends the law couldn't touch if they wanted to. You have me." He smiled wider. "And soon, you'll have Oliver back too."

She stared at him. "How? When?"

His lips pursed tightly. "I don't know when, and I can't tell you how. All I can say is, be patient." He nodded toward Diaz. "I brought you the man who murdered your father, just like I said I would, and I will bring Oliver home. I just need you to trust me, just a little longer."

Dinah swallowed and looked away. "Okay."

For a few minutes, the only sound was the biting wind.

"What will you do now?" Caden asked.

She didn't answer for a while. "I think…I think I'll take Connor to see his grandfather. Tell him stories about the man who made me who I am." Dinah smiled. "He should know he comes from a family of heroes." She glanced at him. "What about you? Gonna call Diaz in to the FBI?"

Drake snorted and rolled his eyes. "Dinah, come on. It's like you don't know me at all." He threw her a sly look. "I've got something much better in mind for him."

…

SAC Watson sat in her temporary office in city hall, going over transcripts and records of various exchanges on social media and local newspapers. This new Green Arrow was completely different from Oliver Queen in many respects, but one of the most notable was how publicly active he was. It was like he made a point of being seen by the people of Star City whenever he intervened. To the untrained eye, it might seem like an narcissistic kick by someone who needed to be the center of attention.

She recognized it for what it was: a PR blast. The city ordinance that had allowed her to arrest and prosecute Oliver Queen outlawed vigilantes of any kind within Star City's jurisdiction, with open arrest or shoot orders attached to it. But most of the city council members who had voted it into existence were either dead or imprisoned pending corruption charges. The time and atmosphere were almost ripe for an overturning of that law, and the more Green Arrow upstaged existing law enforcement, the more public opinion shifted in his favor.

To make matters worse, the extent of SCPD's corruption under Richard Dragon had mandated a metaphorical enema of the city's municipal law enforcement. Which meant until they could reestablish local police, the FBI and National Guard were the only law in town. Realistically, there was no other option besides leaving the city in complete anarchy. Most people weren't rational enough to see that, and had instead begun throwing around terms like "occupying force" and "martial law."

With every day the feds maintained their authority in Star City, their position weakened—and Green Arrow knew it. All it would take was one good spark to tip the scales, and he could weaponize the people to force the Bureau into recalling her team before she could catch him.

All without saying one word.

Her hands clenched into fists on her desk right as her door swung open. A frazzled junior agent dashed inside with wide eyes.

"Agent Watson—you need to see this."

She frowned and watched as he turned on the TV in front of her desk. A live broadcast of was displayed, showing the faint dawn sunlight peeking over the top of the skyline. Cars were lined up in both lanes and on either side of the street—a very familiar street. People got out and pointed and stared. And their focus?

A single figure dragging another behind them.

Watson scrambled to her feet and ran for the nearest stairwell.

…

He wasn't used to having so many people staring at him at once, at least not wearing this suit. But there they were, right as the busy workday was starting, and all eyes were on him. Phones were out, fingers were pointing, the news cameras were rolling—good.

He didn't give them any attention, just put one foot in front of the other and tightened his grip on the cable in his hands. The cable towing the hogtied and gagged body of Ricardo Diaz, Jr., whose face and crimes had been plastered in every subway station, parking garage, and government website in Star City. Undoubtedly, some of those present had been affected personally by all the shit he'd done.

So it was no surprise when halfway to the front steps of city hall, people in every direction started clapping—a wave of applause and whistling that rose with every step he took. He didn't look at any of them. He just smiled and kept walking. Soon, applause wasn't enough, and a crowd had formed behind him. They followed him to the very steps where Oliver Queen had been ripped away from his family in cuffs and delivered his farewell on live television. The steps where he'd appealed to the best of Star City to continue his fight.

Green Arrow dragged Richard Dragon up every one of those stairs, a wave of vindictive glee surging through him when the front doors opened to permit a cadre of federal agents—with SAC Watson right in the middle. He grabbed Diaz's collar and threw him down in front of them to the backdrop of deafening cheers and applause.

Green Arrow met Watson's eyes, saw her stunned expression swiftly turn to unease. He grinned and glanced back at the crowd, then at her, and shrugged. That unease quickly turned to anger.

The moment he saw it, he knew he'd hammered his point home. So he whipped out his bow and drew back a cable arrow, firing it at a nearby skyscraper. The crowd's cheers rose like the tide as the cable reeled him up and swung him away. He landed on a rooftop with steam pouring from its heating vents, striding through the smoke as he pulled up the PDA on his forearm gauntlet.

The live broadcast of city hall showed the feds taking Richard Dragon into custody, and a none-too-calm crowd still cheering at the top of their lungs. Social media feeds of the broadcast were quickly littered with comments and links to other stories regarding the Green Arrow. And on many of them were rapidly trending notations he'd become deeply familiar with since taking up the mantle: #NoFeds#RepealAntiVigilante#FreeOliverQueen.

He smiled ruefully. Most of the time, social media was cancer, but then, so was Watson's team. And he was more than happy to let the trash take out the trash.

So Green Arrow grinned and broke off in a run, twist-flipping off the rooftop to fire another cable arrow and swing off into the sunrise.

…

"God's own shite, he's good."A slow whistle passed through Fionne's teeth. "Feds are gonna have a tough time justifyin' their extended stay now."

Adonis smiled and glanced away from the broadcast to her. "You let me worry about that. Did you get the package?"

She nodded and stood up. "Aye, all pretty and gift wrapped for ya. Where do ya want it?"

"See that building casting a shadow over the main road? Stash it there."

"Won't take 'em long to find it once the ball gets rollin'—which I'm guessin' is the whole point."

"Of course."

Fionne pursed her lips and stared at the screen for a moment. "You really think we can trust Drake to get the job done?"

"We can trust him to do what he does best—pursue his objective with dogged persistence, no matter where the truth takes him." He waved his pipe at the screen. "And when he reaches the end of the road, we'll be there riding his coattails."

"Just long enough to strangle him with 'em."

Adonis chuckled. "If it comes to that. I'd really rather not." He smirked. "We are still 'brothers,' after all."

Fionne grimaced. "Can't say I fancy you bein' brothers with that other maniac."

Adonis winced. "Achilles does have his…moments. But at least he understands the pecking order, for now."

Suddenly, Adonis grimaced and hissed in pain, one hand clutching his head.

"Adonis?" Fionne asked in alarm.

He waved her off. "Give me the room, please?"

Her lips pursed tightly, but she obeyed and shut the door behind her.

Adonis took a deep breath and stood up, swiftly kneeling though it pained him. Then the sides of his head flared with blood-red runes of Olympian script, and his eyes glowed with a bright red sheen. A silhouette of blood and fire filled his vision as the figure's voice boomed in his head.

"I take it everything is proceeding as planned?"

Adonis swallowed through the pain. "Of course, Lord Ares. The Dragon never stood a chance."

"And the artifact?"

"We know Drake has interacted with it before, perhaps even hidden it himself."

"Then acquire him at once and extract its location."

Adonis hesitated a moment. "Impossible, sir."

"…explain."

"Drake's mind is hardened against psychic intrusion, and his body has been trained to resist torture. At best, we will shatter his mind and gain the location. At worst, we break him and it is lost to us forever."

Ares was silent for a while. "Do what you must, Adonis, but remember—we brought you into this world for a purpose."

Adonis chafed and seethed internally, but showed none of it. "I understand, milord. I will not fail you."

Ares said nothing more, just nodded and melted into nothingness as the runes dimmed once more.

It was then that Adonis finally allowed himself to feel the aftermath of the link. Every time Ares used it, it was like someone driving a corkscrew into his head. His heavy breathing and pained gasps filled the room until his voice rose to a scream and he threw his chair clear across the room. Adonis collapsed in a corner, clutching his aching head so tightly, he didn't notice Fionne enter the room until she was kneeling at his side. Her hand tentatively hovered over his arm. He grabbed it and held on tight, slowly dragging himself away from the pain.

She stayed there with him, holding his hand long after he stopped breathing heavy, until he squeezed hers gently and leaned into her warmth.

AN: That's officially five of the six Vagabonds we're caught up with now, and properly introducing Adonis. The differences between him and Achilles will become much more apparent over time, but you should already have begun to notice the distinctions. And the dynamic between Adonis and his boss.

I love Black Canary. Definitely on my list of "Leading Ladies of DC." Since I set up her friendship with Caden Drake in Origins (see chapter 7), I had always planned on using this scenario to get a proper team-up of Green Arrow and Black Canary—even if it's not as a power couple.

Just one more person to catch up with before things start accelerating big time. Unfortunately, I have no idea how long that's going to take me. This chapter is fairly self-contained. The next story arc, not so much. And since I am now full-time at my job and utterly drained of energy at the end of every day…yeah, it's difficult enough writing when I feel awake. We'll see how fast I can get it done. For now, enjoy this one and take the poll on my author page if you haven't already.

Drake out.

Formatting notes:

– Internal Thoughts/Flashback
– "Super-Hearing/Surveillance"
– Telepathy/Divine Speech
– "{Foreign Language}"
– [Text Message]