"Black Canary? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Batman," Laurel thought it over for a moment, then amended her statement. "Well, not exactly. I'm injured right now, but I'm alive and recovering, so there's that at least."

She could just hear Bruce's frown over the phone. "That's good to hear. Reports are coming in about the arms deal — Mueller is dead. What happened?"

"I was in the process of interrogating Mueller when an independent actor got involved and killed him, throwing a knife in his eye. I chased her down to a dead-end alley, where we engaged in a fight. She… defeated me, and captured me. I'm currently in her base right now."

"What? Then why did she allow you to speak to me?"

Laurel closed her eyes and counted to three. "Batman, she's Lady Shiva."

And just like that, the line fell deathly silent. Laurel could just imagine the panic Bruce was feeling right now. He had his own encounters with Shiva over the years, and none of them were good. According to his own stories, he had never managed to defeat her in a straight fight — every victory always came with a lot of cheating on his end. It was for that reason that he didn't like to face Shiva at all.

On the other hand, Shiva had also been something of an ally of sorts over the years. She had helped Bruce train and get back into shape after his back was broken by Bane all those years ago, letting him regain his confidence in redonning the cowl. If it hadn't been for that, Gotham would've long been destroyed by now. That being said, rarely had those few instances of fellowship been driven by any sort of altruism. There was only one thing in the world Lady Shiva truly cared about, and that was the art of combat itself.

"Let me talk to her."

Laurel didn't bother protesting. Wordlessly, she held out the phone to her captor. Shiva was unsurprised at the gesture and took it, turning on the speaker function so Laurel could listen in on the conversation. "Hello, Batman. It's been quite some time since we last spoke."

"Shiva," Bruce growled. "What do you want with Black Canary?"

The older woman smirked. "Nothing, truly. Your little bird just intrigues me. I want to see more of her, see how far she might one day go. So I'm taking her along with me on a mission of sorts. You don't mind, do you?"

He very much did mind, Laurel knew, and so did she for that matter. But neither of them was in any position to argue. Bruce was all the way in Gotham, too far to rescue her and get her away from the woman, and Laurel herself was injured, completely at Shiva's mercy. Right now, she held all the cards, and they knew it.

"…Only if Black Canary agrees."

At the look she got, Laurel sighed. "You're not giving me much of a choice, are you?" she said knowingly.

Shiva shook her head, still smirking.

"…Fine."

"Good. You heard the Little Bird, Batman. She'll be coming with me. And don't worry — I'll make sure she comes back in one piece." She hung up the call before Bruce could respond, and then turned to Laurel. "Rest now, Little Bird. We have quite a trip ahead of us."

The younger woman swallowed.

Starling City

Oliver Queen frowned as he stared up at his family's old steel mill, one of the things that had been the backbone of their company before his father opted to close it down and move operations to China. A sound business move, but also one of the main contributors to the economic downturn in the city. Something that Oliver was only now beginning to pay attention to after it had been so blatantly thrown into his face a few weeks ago.

The sound of a vehicle pulling up behind him caught his attention, and he turned around to see Tommy's latest car parked on the curb. Once the engine was turned off, the doors unlocked, and out came the man himself, with Sara exiting the passenger's side. "Hey Ollie," his friend greeted him.

"Sara, Tommy," he said back, nodding to both of them. "Thanks for meeting me here."

"Yeah, that's the question," Tommy replied, rubbing the back of his head. "Why are we here?"

Oliver swallowed. "Did you know that when my father shut this place down," he started, jabbing his thumb back toward the abandoned factory. "He cheated the workers out of their rightful compensation?"

His two friends stared at him in shock. "What?" Sara nearly shouted.

"That doesn't sound like your dad," their other best friend noted. "He was always going on about the 'Queen Consolidated Family' and how you guys needed to take care of your employees."

"All true, but he still did it. According to Mom and Walter, he didn't want to do it, but the Board insisted on it, considering it a cost-cutting measure. He wanted to keep the leverage he had over them for bigger decisions, so he caved and went along with it. It was only $25 million, a drop in the bucket compared to QC's usual revenue, but apparently a drop too much to let go."

Sara and Tommy exchanged a look. "That's… something, Ollie, but what does this have to do with us? Or you, for that matter? You didn't have a hand in that decision."

Oliver sighed. "Maybe not, but the company is mine now and I feel responsible. So I'm planning on paying the compensation out of my own pocket. It's the least I can do, and the right thing to do. And this, all of this… it got me thinking." He put his hands on his hips, looking back up at the mill. "The reason I'm going to college, the reason I'm finally taking responsibility for the company — for everything in my life, really, is because I want to make my father proud. To make Laurel proud. To be the man they always thought I could be."

"But… is being exactly like my father the right way of doing that? Conducting business the same way he would? Cheating people out of the money they deserve just to please a bunch of other rich people and make them a little bit richer than they already are so those same people won't screw me over later down the line?" He ran a hand down his face. "I get the logic, unfortunately, but it was still the wrong thing to do in the end. If my father had to go through with it, fine, but he could've at least done what I'm planning to do and paid for the severance of those steelworkers out of his own pocket. But he didn't."

"And Laurel? Laurel would've never gone for something like this. She wanted to become a lawyer to help people, to stop something like that from happening, or at least get the victims what was owed to them. She would never be proud of someone like my dad."

"What are you trying to say, Ollie?" Tommy asked, for once completely serious. Next to him, Sara's own face smoothed out into a similar expression.

The Queen scion shrugged. "I don't really know, Tommy," he admitted honestly. "This, all of this, it's getting me to think that we should do more for the people of this city, more than what we're doing now. Because that's the biggest thing my father and Laurel had in common — they loved this city, and what they wanted to do, with all their hearts, was make it better. And honestly, that's what I want to do as well."

It was a profound statement that neither of his friends knew how to respond to. Sara is the one who collected herself first, and she was smiling. "That means a lot coming from you, Ollie," she stated supportively. "Got any ideas on how to do that?"

"Maybe? I was thinking of starting a few charities, like maybe a soup kitchen or something. But now that I'm really thinking about it, maybe we could do more. Like a foundation of some sort?" Oliver gestured back to the steel mill. "This place isn't being used for anything and is open space, so I can easily requisition it from the company if I wanted to. We could use it, renovate it, make it something more."

"I like the sound of that. How about—"

But whatever Sara was about to say was cut off. "I'm sorry," Tommy said, lifting his hands in a defensive gesture. "But I can't do this."

He walked away and headed back to his car. "Tommy—!" Oliver called out.

"Sorry, Ollie." And with that, he went inside his car and drove off.

"So you're certain that the Board is approving of the idea of acquiring Unidac for Queen Consolidated's new Applied Sciences division?" Malcolm asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"They are," Moira confirmed, nodding. It was her monthly meeting with Malcolm at Table Salt, where she kept him apprised of QC's ongoings — namely their progress on claiming Unidac Industries and thus the Markov device. "Walter is very open to the idea as well since Unidac's output has been so consistently well-received over the years. He thinks they would make a great addition to the company."

Malcolm seemed pleased to hear this. "That's good, that's very good," he mused. "I'm glad you've become so adept at manipulating him, Moira. He should be a useful patsy later down, should it be necessary."

The Queen Matriarch's smile became a little fixed upon hearing that. "Yes. Should it be necessary."

Their food arrived not long after. A few minutes of silence passed by as they settled themselves and began eating. About midway through, Malcolm began speaking again. "I've heard that Oliver has asked permission from Queen Consolidated to requisition the old still mill in the Glades for his personal use."

Ah. That. She had been expecting that. Malcolm had made it all too clear when she first joined Tempest that he had spies in QC and more influence over the corporation than he really should have. According to him, the company only continued to exist so it could serve his aims — something he had illustrated to her after revealing he had been the real reason why Robert had opted to utilize that loophole in the steel workers' contract. Apparently, Robert had opposed one of Malcolm's decisions in regards to the List and Malcolm had decided he needed to be put back in his place, best friend or not. And he had arranged a little "accident" for one of the workers to make it clear what the alternative would be.

Moira suspected it was a bit more to it than that, though. Malcolm was a classist bastard, it was entirely possible he wanted the 'Glades scum,' as he tended to call the residents of this neighborhood, to stay where they 'belonged.' Whatever the case, she knew better than to say it out loud.

"Oliver found out about the steelworker situation after an unfortunate encounter with one of the children of one of the workers, and it hit a little close to home for him," she said instead. "He's decided to pay for the severance packages the workers were owed according to their contract out of pocket. More than that, however, it's reminded him of his father's philanthropy and love for Starling, and of Laurel's own desire to help people."

"Ah, yes, the older Miss Lance. His dead girlfriend — the one who wanted to become one of those crusading lawyers, correct?"

"Indeed. She was always trying to 'save the world', as her friends would say," Moira noted with no small amount of fondness. Laurel had been such a sweet girl, the kind that always brought the best out of her son. Even after she was gone, that still rang true.

Malcolm, of course, cared little for an insignificant working girl he had gotten killed, and it was just another reason to hate him. "Just what does he intend to do with the mill, Moira?"

His right-hand woman sighed. "He intends to start a charity foundation, using the steel mill as its headquarters. A sort-of community outreach center. He wants it at the mill not just because of the sentimental significance, but because the building is both available and located in the Glades. That's where he feels needs the most help, and thus the place he can do the most amount of good."

That got her a scoff. "The Glades can't be saved," Malcolm said scornfully.

Doing her best to keep her true thoughts concealed, Moira agreed. "Yes, but the rest of the city hasn't really come around to your line of thinking, remember? Otherwise, we wouldn't have to be so secretive and you would've closed down Rebecca's old clinic already."

"True," the businessman mused. "Oliver would be suspicious if we tried to convince him not to put his foundation in the Glades because of that. If that's the case, we'll simply have to make up some excuse to keep him away from the neighborhood the night of the Undertaking. There's no need for him to die with the worthless riff-raff he's trying to help."

"Of course, Malcolm," Moira said, and it took everything she had not to spit the words out. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. Whatever happened to the kind man she had met at Stanford all those years ago? Did he really exist or was he just a mask for the real monster beneath? How did Rebecca, good, kind Rebecca, end up marrying someone like him?

Not for the first time, Moira was glad Rebecca was dead. At least this way, her best friend wouldn't have to live with the atrocities her husband was willing to commit in her name. No, unfortunately, Moira would be the one who would have to bear that burden, and there was nothing more she hated than that.

Chicago

It took a little around two weeks for Laurel to completely heal from her injuries, something she suspected was sped up by Shiva's mysterious salves and ointments that she applied to her wounds and bruises. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth and knowing she wouldn't like the answer, Laurel hadn't bothered asking where they came from. Instead, she had used the opportunity to take a much-needed break.

The day they were due to leave Chicago, Shiva showed up at the front doorstep of her safe house. Laurel didn't bother asking how she knew about that either. "Okay, where are we going?" Laurel asked, crossing her arms and trying not to look or sound too impertinent.

"I've chartered us a private plane out of the country," Shiva revealed. "We cannot fly commercially since you are legally dead and I am a wanted international criminal. Luckily, I have more than enough favors to get us out of the country with little fuss despite that."

Alright. Out of the country again. Laurel had more than her fair share of experience in that. "And our destination?"

"London. You're going to help me dismantle a human trafficking ring."

The Black Canary blinked. "I didn't know you cared about such things." While Shiva wasn't one to partake in such activities, she never particularly cared about opposing them either.

Shiva smirked, tilting her head. "I've been hired by a secret organization called the Ninth Circle to assassinate a man by the name of Egon. He runs a high-level trafficking ring in the United Kingdom, one that he started with their backing. However, lately, they've been getting word that he's been deliberately shafting his tribute to them to hoard more wealth for himself. In addition to that, the trafficking ring has started to get more press as more of the disappearances come to light. So, they've opted to cut their losses."

"So what do you need me for?" Laurel asked. "Sounds like this is something you can handle on your own."

"Perhaps, though not as easily without your aid. Egon is not a man who carelessly exposes himself to danger. I will have issues getting close to him, especially when one considers my own famous reputation. That is where you come in."

"You want me to act as bait," the younger woman realized.

"Of a sort, Little Bird," the master conceded. "You will infiltrate the human trafficking ring as one of their products and help lead me to Egon. Then, together, we shall take him and his operation down in one fell swoop."

A simple plan, but an effective one. "Sounds easy enough. With my Canary Cry—"

"Oh, yes. That."

Laurel was cut off by Shiva abruptly darting forward and striking a pressure point in her neck. Laurel felt something in her throat react to the action, and she backed away, clutching at where Shiva had struck. "What did you do?" the vigilante demanded.

Shiva's smirk widened. "Try and scream," she ordered.

"What? We're indoors!" Laurel knew better than to try using the Canary Cry inside. Bruce's safehouses were sturdy, but not that sturdy.

"Try anyway."

She wasn't going to accept no for an answer. Laurel swallowed and screamed, but rather than the high-pitch sonic energy that usually escaped her mouth, it was just a random yell. Once it became clear that her power was gone, she stopped and glared at Shiva. "What the hell? What happened to my Cry?"

"Just something I've picked up in my travels," Shiva told her. "You'll be unable to use your Canary Cry until the mission is completed. Only then will I return it to you."

"But why? Wouldn't the mission be easier if I had access to it?"

"Yes, but that's not the point of all this, Little Bird. The point is to see what you're capable of on your own without relying on such a potent weapon. Only then will I be able to cast proper judgment upon you."

The words were ominous, and Laurel tried her best not to show the fear she felt on her face. Just what did Shiva have planned for her? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Now come," Shiva ordered, gesturing to Laurel's things. "We have a plane to catch."

A lot going on in this chapter. Laurel finds herself dreading whatever it is Shiva has in store for her and now has to conduct a dangerous mission without her Canary Cry. Something she hasn't done in a while, which is making her feel nervous for more reasons than one.

Meanwhile, Oliver is planning on starting a solid charity for the people of Starling, but while Sara is supportive, Tommy's not for some reason. And of course, Malcolm is being a dick as always, while Moira has to put up with his BS. Where is this going? Well, you'll see.

Next Chapter: Laurel goes to jolly old London.