Chapter Text
[10 OCTOBER 2024]
[EARTH-38 – 08:49]
“Ah.”
Waking up, Oliver immediately groaned as he brought his hand up to scratch his eyes. Pain enveloped nearly every area of his body. His arms and legs were stiff, filled with lactic acid while the right side of his abdomen and head were throbbing. His face ached less than the other areas, but it was still sore due to the several powerful strikes it had absorbed the previous night.
But while his body was in distress, his mind was not. In fact, he couldn’t ever recall such a contrast between his state of mind and state of body. With physical pain usually came misery but not right now. Unfathomably content, he took a deep breath while attempting to recall everything that had happened the previous night.
He clearly remembered the beginning and end of his fight with Azrael, but the entirety of it was still murky. Azrael was not only one of the most proficient fighters Oliver had ever encountered, but by far the most powerful as far as non-enhanced humans were concerned. Any and every strike of his was concussive, and while Oliver hadn’t taken as much damage from him during their second bout, he wouldn’t at all be surprised if he had another concussion.
While the fight was hazy, what happened after it wasn’t. Waking up in the mansion and talking to Mia before coming over to Earth-38 to speak with Kara. Their kiss, and then everything after.
“Morning.”
Kara’s soothing voice spoke next to him. Oliver groaned again as he turned to face her. She was far livelier than him, having already woken up.
“Morning,” he replied with a smile.
“A little beat up?” she asked.
“Yeah, but from the fight.”
“Not from me?”
“As far as I can tell, no. But I wouldn’t be surprised,” he replied, grinning.
“Sorry,” she replied meekly.
“It’s okay. The bruises are all worth it anyway.”
From the first day that they starting dating, Kara was always concerned about her strength. When they started to become sexually active, she was very cautious to ensure that she didn’t hurt him. Even as she got more comfortable and more intense, he never sustained any injuries. Of course, Oliver did end up with a bruise here and there when they got a little too enthusiastic, but bruises were all he ever sustained.
“You staying for breakfast?” asked Kara.
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
“I’ll just call in sick.”
“I have a lot of things to take care of,” he replied.
“I’m sure they can wait,” replied Kara, sliding her hand over his chest. After a moment of consideration, Oliver decided to stay.
“Yeah, it sure can,” he said as he brought his face closer to Kara’s, only to be stunned when she immediately pulled away.
“Woah, slow down there. You have morning breath,” she said, disheartening Oliver. “Don’t worry, I’ll kiss you later. I’m going to shower, want to join?”
“Sure.”
After the shower, Kara supersped herself into clothes and to the kitchen. Oliver joined her in the kitchen a few minutes later, being handed a cup of coffee by her.
“Can I get that kiss now?” he requested after taking a sip. She happily obliged, wrapping her arms around his waist before lightly pressing her lips against his.
“I’m hungry,” she said as she broke away, “Your scrambled eggs still as good as I remember?”
“I hope so,” replied Oliver, “I’d hate to disappoint.”
“I doubt that’s possible for a man of your culinary expertise,” she said before superspeeding away to collect the ingredients. No more than a couple of seconds later were they all neatly arranged in front of Oliver on a chopping board. A dopey smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” asked Kara.
“Nothing. I just forgot how useful it is to have someone with superspeed helping around in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, well, it’s all you from here on out. I made the coffee, breakfast is all yours,” she said, mischievously grinning as she sipped on her mug.
“Correction: The coffee maker made the coffee.”
“But I pressed the buttons.”
Oliver lifted his hand to dispute before realising that this was an argument he wasn’t going to win. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”
“As good as you remember?” asked Oliver as Kara took a first bite of the dish.
“Better than I can remember,” replied Kara with a smile of approval.
As they dug in, Kara easily noticed that Oliver was deep in thought and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know about what.
Oliver Queen was an overthinker by nature. He could recall only less than a dozen occasions in his life when he had revelled and just stayed in the moment. This perceived detriment proved to be advantageous in the life that he lived. Before a problem even arose, he would already have at least three routes to a solution planned out. Star City may not have been destroyed and Azrael may be dead, but to Oliver, he may have just won in the end.
Star City was now no longer a haven, no longer a symbol of hope. It was once again the pit of impudence and barbarism where people survived rather than ‘lived’. It had taken Oliver two terms as mayor and two stints as a vigilante to turn Star City’s fortunes around. Would it take another twelve years to set things straight?
He was pulled from the cube of his thoughts and brought back to reality when Kara snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Hey,” she said, making sure that she had his full attention, “Star City is going to be fine.”
Oliver tilted his head, not sharing her optimism. “Twelve years, Kara. Twelve. Years. Flushed down the drain in the span of six months.”
“It won’t take another twelve years to recover this time.”
“What makes you so sure?”
In truth, Kara wasn’t. As unpredictable as their line of work is, there appears to indeed be one consistency; As soon as one threat is gone, another will take its place. It just seemed to be a matter of time before the peace was broken and conflict arose.
In an attempt to put him at ease, Kara lied. “Because things aren’t as bad as you think they are… Since I know that you’re not going to stop thinking about it, talk to me. What are you going to do when you get back?”
“Hold a press conference to explain how I’m still alive. Assess the damage and then speak with Quentin on how to go forward. I need to see a doctor too,” replied Oliver, massaging his neck, “Azrael beat the shit out of me.”
“You still won, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.”
“That’s my man,” she replied with a proud smile, prompting Oliver to chuckle.
After a moment, he turned serious, now speaking earnestly. “Thank you for giving me a second chance, even though I don’t deserve one.”
Kara sighed. “It took me a long time to forgive you for leaving, but also to realise that the reasons why you left me had credence. Worrying about having healthy children and then raising them while we were on separate Earths, you wanting me to have someone who was going to live as long as me… To an extent, they were valid, but you do have a problem, Oliver, and that is you always thinking that you know what is best for others.”
“That’s not the only problem that I have.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that as long as you’re working on them. Are you?”
“Trying to.”
“Then you do deserve a second chance.”
“I still have the same concern about having children. Has anything changed regarding that?”
“No human male has ever had children with a female Kryptonian, but I spoke to my mom and she said it’s possible. But we still can’t rule out the possibility of birth defects and whether or not the pregnancy will have adverse effects on me. I’d need to go Argo City for the duration of the pregnancy, for my safety and the baby’s.”
“How long would that be?”
“Kryptonian gestation is 6 months.”
They both took a deep breath, realising what that would entail. They’d both have to leave their worlds for that time, maybe even longer.
“I’m willing to do it,” said Oliver, “As you are, but only when the time is right. We both have too much on our plate right now to be worrying about it. I think we should take things slow. Take our time, get the hang of this again before we even consider all of that.”
Kara nodded. “Yeah.”
“I meant it when I said that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m never going to leave you again, Kara,” he said resolutely, “No matter what.”
“Not by choice. You’re still going to be the Green Arrow, right?” she asked.
For as much as Kryptonian memory was a blessing, it was an equally monstrous curse. Of the many things that Kara wished she could forget, the entire ordeal of Oliver’s near-death was near the top of the list. He’d been beaten to within an inch of life and if she’d found him just a few seconds later, he might not have survived. An experience like that only made her more protective and anxious for his safety.
“Trust me, if Azrael couldn’t kill me, nobody can,” he said, prompting a slight laugh from her. “It’s going to take a multiversal crisis or some godly being to kill me.”
“Don’t say that, it might just happen,” joked Kara.
“With you by my side, we’ll take care of it,” he replied, with a warm smile. Suddenly, a sharp yet dulling pain started to spread through his head. The same pain that had plagued him for the past five months…
With a busy day ahead, Oliver returned to Earth-1 right after breakfast, saying goodbye with another kiss. He arrived back in his room at the mansion and went downstairs to find Quentin after a change of clothes. He heard voices coming from the dining room, finding William, Mia and Zoe having breakfast.
“Morning,” he said, greeting them warmly.
“Your talk with Kara must have gone well,” remarked Mia.
“How’d you know?” asked Oliver.
“Because you were there the whole night,” remarked Mia with a grin. William held in his laugh while Oliver nervously smiled.
“Whatever,” said Oliver, brushing her insinuation off, “Where’s Quentin?”
“He just left for City Hall,” replied William.
“Diggle?”
“Right here.” Diggle’s voice spoke up, and Oliver turned around to see him approaching.
“How are you feeling?” asked Oliver.
“Fucked up,” he replied bluntly, stretching his right shoulder, “You?” he replied.
“Fucked up,” replied Oliver. “I need to go to City Hall to speak with Quentin. Care to join?”
“What for? Want me to be your ‘black driver’ again?” joked Diggle.
“I’d appreciate that, but mainly to be an ARGUS rep.”
“So that your story doesn’t seem like complete bullshit?”
“Yeah. Let’s go,” he said as they headed for the exit.
Once they reached the garage and picked out a car, Oliver chose to take a seat in the back instead of the front. Diggle smiled.
“We really doing this like old times, huh?” he asked. “Just don’t sneak out on me again.”
“Can’t make any promises.”
As expected, there was a pack of reporters at the entrance of City Hall who swarmed Oliver and peppered him with a series of questions as he arrived. Diggle managed to shield Oliver and shimmy him through the crowd, not without having to once again threaten to shove some cameras down throats.
Once in the safety of the building, Oliver’s arrival was met with varied reactions from the police officers on duty. Most looked at him with respect and admiration, but others were slightly more sceptical and wary. Nonetheless, they let him through to the mayoral office without hesitation, where he found Quentin seated with Captain Matthew Smith and Detective Mack Morgan.
“I’ll be damned,” said Smith, as he stood up and firmly shook Oliver’s hand. “How the hell are you still alive right now?”
“You’ll hear about it once we’re done here,” replied Oliver.
“A bit roughed up, I see,” he said, noting the subtle bruises and small cuts on Oliver’s face. It was hardly a statement, in actuality much more a question.
“I was in the city helping with the evacuation,” replied Oliver, already having thought out that excuse, “Ran into some trouble.”
“Yeah, I saw you pinned down there for a second. Wouldn’t have made it out if it wasn’t for Supergirl,” added Morgan, playing along with Oliver’s excuse. Oliver thanked him with a subtle nod before introducing Diggle to the two of them. The five of them then moved to the conference room to discuss further.
“So, order has mostly been restored and people are returning to the city,” began Smith, “We apprehended about 100 Cobalt members. Your men came in and took ‘em,” he said, speaking to Diggle. “Still got a lot of criminals out there. Diaz managed to slip away in the chaos of the evacuation.”
“So far, civilian casualties are around 250,” said Quentin, “Hundreds more are injured. Infrastructure damage, we’re still not too sure about the costs. What we do know is that The Glades had it the worst.”
“The plan going forward is simple,” continued Smith, “Restore order, weed out the corrupt, lock up the remaining criminals, and curb the distribution of Burnout by taking down Diaz. The hard part is going to be getting it done. The SCPD is in shambles.”
“How many officers were working for Cobalt?” asked Oliver.
“Close to 350, either under duress or as moles. 250 officers resigned over the past few months and I have a feeling that many more will in the coming weeks. Also assuming that all of the dead from last night are accounted for, we’re currently down to 600 officers for the foreseeable future. That’s half of our usual.”
A worrying silence resonated for a couple of seconds before Oliver spoke. “Where are we with City Council?” he asked.
Quentin replied. “Hanes, Cavanagh and Cormier were under duress. Jones and Willis, the two that replaced Kullens and Pollard, they were Cobalt plants. They’re in custody along with Jack Major and Brian Nudocerdo.”
“Both the mayor and chief are dusted,” said Oliver, “Quentin, you’re going to resume as mayor?”
“The allegations they used to impeach me have been now proved fraudulent, and the remaining members of City Council won’t object, so yeah.”
“And the chief?” asked Smith. Quentin remained silent, as did the others. It was only after a few seconds passed did Smith realise that all of the eyes in the room were on him.
“What about you?” asked Oliver, but Smith immediately shut down that prospect.
“With all due respect, I’d rather not. There’s a reason I stayed at Lieutenant and then Captain for years. I prefer a more hands-on approach. Besides, the only person I completely trust in the SCPD right now is Morgan, and no offense kid, you’re not ready to be Captain.”
“None taken,” replied Morgan.
“Cormier was the chief before Nudocerdo,” added Quentin, “I’ll speak to him about returning to that role.”
“Where do you fit into all of this, Queen?” asked Smith.
“Wherever you need me to,” he suggested, “Doing any and everything I can to help.”
“Our green-hooded friend took Azrael out, right?” asked Smith. Oliver nodded.
“Just out of curiosity, who exactly was he?” asked Morgan.
“Former British soldier turned mercenary,” explained Diggle, “Later on founded Cobalt with the intention of destroying the very system that created him.”
“Shouldn’t British intelligence have been on to him?” asked Morgan.
“Yeah, let’s not go there,” replied Diggle, pursing his lips and looking away. After contacting British intelligence about Azrael, Lyla later discovered that they already had his identity but kept it a secret to prevent getting a bad rep, not wanting to admit that they played a part in creating him.
“Azrael is dead, but a lot of his men are still alive,” said Oliver, “As far as we know, Azrael employed a cellular structure to his organisation, which means that it’s likely to fall apart without him at the helm but that’s not a guaranteed possibility. The remaining members may want to finish the job.”
“We’ve already begun crackdowns on international Cobalt cells,” interjected Diggle, “If there’s any in the city, we can help take them down.”
“Green Arrow still sticking around?” asked Smith, turning to Morgan. He glanced at Oliver, who shot him a subtle nod.
“Yeah,” replied Morgan.
“Good, ‘cause we’re going to need him. I think that’s everything. We done here?”
They all looked around for a second, confirming that neither had anything else to say.
“Yeah, I think so,” said Oliver, standing up with the rest of them before leaving the conference room.
Smith remained behind with Quentin, but Morgan headed for the exit with Oliver and Diggle.
After the meeting, Oliver took his place at the podium outside to address the people of Star City.
“I know you all have a lot of questions, but if you’ll bear with me over the next few minutes, they will all be answered,” he said. “Around five months ago, Quentin Lance and I began to have suspicions that there was a terrorist organisation trying to tear down Star City and that they were responsible for the horrific sequence of events that were beginning to unfold. Our suspicions were unfortunately proven right. As we began to work with the authorities and uncover their plot, attempts were made on our lives. A friend of mine from the Central City Police Department, Barry Allen, was in Star City the night that I was attacked. He managed to locate me before I succumbed to my injuries, but for my safety and my family’s, my survival was kept a secret. I continued to work with the authorities whilst recovering, and we eventually discovered that Cobalt were planning to level the city with a weapon of mass destruction. Fortunately, that was prevented from happening”
“Care to address the claims that Azrael made about you?” Someone shouted from the crowd, interrupting Oliver.
“I doubt that simply standing here and saying that they’re false will be enough to convince you. I believe that everything that I have done for this city and will continue to do for it speaks for who I am, and if you choose to take the word of a psychopathic terrorist over that, then so be it. Quentin Lance is set to be reinstated as mayor, I’m sure he will address you all soon. I’m going to continue to work with him and the authorities to help rebuild this city once again. It may take a while, but I’ve done it before, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen again.”
Oliver left the podium, this time not being harassed by the reporters on his way back to the car with Diggle. Diggle’s phone buzzed, and he took it out to see a message from Lyla.
“Lyla needs me at HQ,” he said.
Oliver sensed it was urgent. “Alright, you go.”
“I can still quickly drop you off at Starling General,” replied Diggle.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s only a few blocks away, I’ll walk.”
Diggle nodded, getting in the car and setting off in the opposite direction. Less than a minute later, a different car pulled up next to Oliver. The window rolled down and the driver stuck his head out.
“Need a ride?” asked Mack Morgan.
On the drive was where Oliver got his first good look at the aftermath of last night. The streets were practically empty apart from police, army patrols and a couple of ambulances. It was not uncommon to see burnt cars and damaged buildings along the way. If it weren’t for Kara, much more lives would have been lost and the damage would have been far more catastrophic.
“Thanks for playing along with my excuse,” said Oliver.
“You know how Smith is. Sceptical of everything. Probably still doesn’t totally believe it, but I guess he has no choice but to,” replied Morgan, shrugging his shoulders. “So… you’re the Green Arrow.”
“Big surprise, huh?” replied Oliver.
“Not for me, no, but it would be to a lot of people,” he replied, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“Would never have told you if I didn’t think it was.”
“Right… May I ask why you retired?”
“My team died trying to stop Adrian Chase. I just couldn’t continue without them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Morgan compassionately, “You don’t have any powers right?”
“Yeah, I’m unkillable.”
“Really?”
Oliver chuckled. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Just seems crazy that you’d go out there without any. And you’re buddies with the Flash and Supergirl, so I figured you’d have… something, at least.”
“They’re both old friends. I actually knew The Flash before he was The Flash.”
“And Supergirl?”
“I met her through The Flash.”
“Ah, okay. Mind telling her thanks the next time you see her? She saved my life last night.”
“Sure. When is your family coming back?”
“Not any time soon. I’m going to wait for the dust to settle. You know, let things somewhat get back to normal before they return,” he replied as he pulled up to the entrance of Starling General.
“Thanks for the ride,” said Oliver, getting out of the car. He turned back to talk to Morgan once more through the window. “I’ll see you soon, Detective.”
“Looking forward to it.”
While the hospital was busy, Oliver only had to wait 10 minutes for Dr Schwartz to meet him. Having given her the run-down of what he’d endured the previous night, she insisted on an MRI to check if he’d sustained a traumatic brain injury as well as x-rays to determine if he’d broken his ribs again. The latter was hardly a concern for Oliver. The prospect of a TBI was far more unsettling.
Broken bones would heal, bruises would dissipate, but the brain could never fully recover from trauma. Up until this point, brain damage never seemed to be a concern for Oliver. When he started his crusade, head trauma was an afterthought. Catching a bullet was, rightfully so, his only worry, but now, looking back at just how many fights he’d been in and with who, Oliver realised that he shouldn’t be surprised about the recent occurrences of headaches that had started immediately after his first fight with Azrael.
Malcolm Merlyn, Slade Wilson, Ra’s Al Ghul, Damien Darhk and lastly, most importantly, Azrael. The first fight with Azrael had no doubt taken years off of his life. It was a beating that no man would ever be able to fully recover from, not even Oliver Queen.
After doing the scans, Dr Schwartz returned to the room with the results.
“Good news about your ribs,” she said, placing the scans on a board for Oliver to see, “No breaks. The pain you’re experiencing is likely just bad bruising.”
“And my brain?” asked Oliver.
“The scans showed no signs of an acute TBI,” replied Dr Schwartz, allowing Oliver to let out a sigh of relief. “Although you do still need to see this.”
She hung three more brain scans on the board in front of Oliver, who immediately noted the differences between them. The brain on the left appeared larger and fuller than the other two, which appeared slightly smaller and a bit shrivelled.
Dr Schwartz explained. “On the left here is the brain of a healthy middle-aged individual. The middle is of a professional MMA fighter 7 years into his career, and the last one is yours.” Oliver immediately noted how similar the last two looked. “Have you at all recently experienced chronic headaches, impulsive behaviour and memory loss? And if so, to what extent?”
“Headaches sporadically, impulsive behaviour… My whole life, and memory loss, no.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound too bad. Look, it’s no surprise that you have some brain damage, given that you’ve spent a large portion of your life getting hit in the head. You’re at a high risk of developing CTE, but for now, your brain is still relatively healthy.”
“Then why did I need to see this?”
“I just thought that you should know how much trauma your brain has suffered up until this point so that you can keep that in mind going forward. With your ribs and a possible concussion, I’d advise taking some time off.”
“Sorry, Doc, I can’t afford to do that right now.”
“What about your friends? Can’t they help for the time being?”
“They have their own cities and problems to deal with, so they can’t stick around.”
“Well, if you really have to go out there, just try not to get hit in the head any time soon. I can give you a cortisone shot for your ribs.”
“Thanks.”
As Dr Schwartz prepared the injection, she asked an unexpected question of Oliver. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Oliver frowned. “Who?”
“Supergirl.”
“What makes you ask that?” inquired Oliver.
“Nothing. Just wondering.”
Oliver nodded. “I suppose you could say she is.”
“Where’d you meet her? Superhero Tinder?”
Oliver chuckled. “No, I met her when she helped stop that alien invasion eight years ago.”
“Ever thought of getting married? Maybe even settling down?”
“It’s come up, but I’m not sure if we’ll ever get the chance.”
“Not sure if you’ll ever get it or if you’ll ever take it?”
“I already retired once, Doc. Trust me when I tell you that I won’t hesitate to do it again when the time comes.”
“Well, I sincerely hope that that day comes soon.”
Nightfall came in Star City, and although the National Guard were still patrolling the city and keeping the city’s criminals in hiding, Oliver had no intention of resting on his laurels. Mia arrived in the lair as Oliver had just begun suiting up.
“First day on the job and you’re late?” joked Oliver.
“Sorry, I was just a little busy doing my actual job,” replied Mia as she walked over to the computers, “Nice set-up you got here. Although I’m disappointed to see that you’re still running on 2016 software.”
“It’ll do for now. You can update everything later,” replied Oliver. “It’s going to be difficult to track any Cobalt members if they’re still in the city, so tonight, I’m going after The Scorpions, Diaz’s gang. They’re the ones running the drug game right now.”
“I see,” replied Mia, “So… where do we start?”
Chapter 2
Summary:
Oliver receives vital intel regarding Ricardo Diaz before stopping an arms deal.
Chapter Text
[ONE MONTH LATER]
[THE GLADES – 20:37]
“You sure he’s going to show up?” asked Captain Smith, growing more and more impatient.
“He’ll be here,” replied Morgan coolly.
Every time Smith found himself on this rooftop with Mack Morgan, the two of them awaiting the arrival of the Green Arrow, he always seemed to experience the same feelings of disbelief and near perplexity.
From as far back as he could remember, he and vigilantes were like oil and water. When Wildcat first appeared, Smith had personally made sure that he was on the case to bring him to justice. Then, when The Hood showed up, he had gladly aided Quentin Lance on his many attempts to bring him to justice and in recent years, had gotten into more than one debate with Mayor Queen over the topic of vigilantism.
And now, here he was, working with one.
His debates with Queen remained civil as far as Star City policies towards them were concerned. When personal attitudes were injected into the discussion, that was when things tended to get a little dicey. For a man who agreed that vigilantes would not be allowed to operate in Star City, Queen sure as hell defended them as if they were his own blood whenever Smith sought to question their character. One could easily chalk it down to him simply being a vigilante groupie, but a more intuitive person could infer that Queen’s attitude was because of his previous relationship with Laurel Lance.
Even then, Smith could see something beyond that. Something deeper, something ingrained in Queen’s psyche beyond a respect and grief for a demised loved one... But he couldn’t figure it out, and honestly, he didn’t care to.
In the end, Queen turned out to be right. Vigilantes weren’t needed in Star City following the demise of Adrian Chase, but indeed, their character could never and perhaps, should never be questioned again. When shit hit the fan after seven years of relative peace, they showed up and saved thousands of lives. And they were sticking around too. A large part of him expected the Green Arrow to slither away once Azrael was defeated, but he didn’t. He was still out every night, doing as much as he possibly could to clean up the streets.
With Morgan already in contact with him, Smith quickly realised that working with the Green Arrow would easier and more fruitful for all parties involved as opposed to diverting SCPD resources in an attempt to apprehend him. Agreeing to such a partnership may have been against everything that he’d believed in for decades, but it was necessary.
Eventually, he and Morgan heard the crack of a grappling arrow attaching to the neighbouring building, turning to see their hooded acquaintance glide down on the zip line towards them.
“Better late than never,” remarked Smith.
“I was busy. The warehouse at corner Parnell and Jones,” replied Oliver, “The Scorpions were keeping Burnout stashes there. Feel free to send a team in to clean it all up.”
“Will do.”
“What’s this new intel that you got for me?” asked Oliver. Morgan stepped forward and handed him a file.
“Anthony Moreno.” Morgan explained while Oliver opened the file and looked at the profile of the man, “Diaz has been keeping a low profile since we took down Azrael, he hasn’t shown his face in weeks. Moreno is now his commissary.”
Smith continued. “If Diaz wants something done, he does it through Moreno. Diaz calls the shots from wherever he is, Moreno goes out and executes the plan.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?” asked Oliver.
“We raided another hideout today and one of the men we brought in spoke. His story checks out. Moreno was always pretty close to Diaz, he was actually recruited into The Scorpions by him years ago. If we get Moreno, we get one massive step closer to getting Diaz.”
“We know Diaz has made a boat-load over the past few months, but without Azrael to back him and his profits decreasing, it’s only a matter of time before we catch up to him,” said Morgan, “At this rate, we’re going to shut him down soon.”
“I’ll find Moreno,” replied Oliver, handing the file back to Morgan. “Is that all you have for me?”
“Yeah, that’s it for now,” replied Smith.
“That Glades separatist movement is gaining some traction. Is that of any interest to you?” inquired Morgan.
“Sounds like it’s more of a problem for Mayor Lance,” replied Oliver. Mia’s voice spoke up in Oliver’s earpiece. “Yeah? Okay, I’m on my way.”
“What’s the crisis?” asked Morgan as Oliver began walking away.
“I’m late for dinner with my girlfriend,” joked Oliver.
“You have a girlfriend?” asked Smith, having not picked up on Oliver’s sarcasm, “Who? Supergirl?”
Oliver couldn’t help but smirk before jumping off the rooftop.
Oliver returned to the lair, immediately flipping his hood and taking his mask off as he approached Mia.
“Green Arrow – 12, Scorpions – 0,” said Mia, as she marked another hideout with a cross on her digital map.
“Smith has found out who Diaz’s right-hand man is,” said Oliver, “Anthony Moreno, long-time member of The Scorpions. I need you to locate and start tracking his movements. If he’s as close to Diaz as Smith says, I’m willing to bet that they meet occasionally. Hopefully, he can lead us right to Diaz.”
“That’s assuming that they do and that Diaz is staying in one spot.”
“Diaz hasn’t left the city, I’m sure of that much, and I doubt that he feels comfortable enough to constantly be on the move with the Green Arrow on his tail. What’s this?” inquired Oliver, spotting a transparent tablet bottle without a label on her desk.
Mia quickly snatched the bottle and placed it in her pocket, not allowing Oliver to take a closer look. “Nothing… Just my iron supplements. I’m anaemic.”
“Oh, okay. You said you have something important for me?”
“This guy,” she replied, opening an image of a businessman, “Gordon Vorheal. He’s an arms dealer. He arrived in Star City this afternoon.”
“Who’s buying?” asked Oliver.
“He was spotted having lunch in Chinatown, so…”
“The Triad.”
Although The Triad had been driven out of the city years ago, they returned during the chaos of the past six months.
“I managed to ping his phone,” said Mia, “It sounds like there’s a deal going down in the next half hour.”
“Where?”
“Where do you think? There’s a reason I called you back here,” replied Mia with a grin.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“You know that criminals have a penchant for doing deals in abandoned warehouses and so forth. Vorheal decided that it would a be good idea to have it at the remains of the old Verdant nightclub.”
“Alright, I’m going to go take point. Stay down here, things might get a bit rocky,” replied Oliver as he headed for the stairs. “And loud.”
“Don’t mind me. I’m alright, alright, alright,” replied Mia, taking another sip of her soda while keeping an eye on the cameras stationed in and around the abandoned nightclub.
As Oliver sat on the upper level of the nightclub, awaiting the arrival of the dealers, he looked back on the past month. The state that the city was currently in eerily reminded him of his early days as The Hood and The Arrow. Gangs were active in The Glades, crime was rampant and the police were once again understaffed. At least now, he had the full support of the police department and the issues presiding in the city seemed to be acute rather than chronic.
Even a month later, Dr Schwartz’s words were still sticking with him. For his original crusade and this one, he never planned on doing them forever, but she was right when she implied that retiring the second time around might be more difficult. He was an adrenaline junkie, and this second crusade was a relapse.
It did seem that it wouldn’t take another twelve years to fix Star City, but that was hardly a relief for him. As he had admitted to Kara, he had many problems, but one of the more troublesome ones… He always has to join the fight. And if there isn’t one, he has to be there to make sure it ends before it starts. Whether it was in a Green Arrow suit or a Tom Ford two-piece depended on the situation, but it always had to be him. It always felt like his responsibility, and when lives were lost, it felt like it was his fault. It was something ingrained in every hero’s psyche, but Barry and Kara had somehow found a way to strike the balance between their self-interest and the greater. Oliver had yet to, and he wondered if the day he did would ever come.
On the brighter side of things, Thea was now nearing the 9-month mark of her pregnancy and was going to give birth to a baby boy any day now. Things were going well between him and Kara. Just like how they agreed, they were taking things slow and almost starting again as a couple. One new thing that they hadn’t experienced before was both of them being heroes at the same time. It didn’t allow for them to see each other as often as they liked and now created an anxiety for Kara that she’d never felt before. A fear that he’d lose his life in the field, especially since he was going out alone.
That Glades separatist movement that Morgan mentioned wasn’t a concern for the Green Arrow right now, but for Oliver Queen, it was. It had sprung up in the past month and with all that The Glades has endured, he could understand why. The people of The Glades believed that the city’s administration had failed them time and time again, and in a way, they were right. Now, they wanted autonomy, to be able to govern themselves. Oliver had no doubt that a lot supporting it had good intentions, merely wanting to create a better future for themselves and their children, but with a place like Star City, such movements could be too easily hijacked and turned into something cynical. He had to keep an eye on it for the foreseeable future.
Oliver heard the vans approaching and moved to a window on the upper level of Verdant to take a peak. Vorheal arrived first with two of his goons and were joined a few minutes later by three Triad members. He let Vorheal present the first weapon to see what he was selling… M249 light-machine guns.
Oliver took in a deep breath before exhaling slowly… Time to get to work.
He nocked an explosive arrow and fired at the Triad van, destroying it. He fired two more arrows quickly, an explosive to take out the engine of Vorheal’s van and then the second a flashbang arrow, disorientating the six men present. He leapt through the window, landing right behind Vorheal and his men.
As always, these street thugs were no match for Oliver, as he took each of them out without getting hit once. Although he’d struck Vorheal once with his bow, Oliver turned to see him having run away, but listening intently, Oliver picked up on his footsteps.
Vorheal had no idea where he was going, mindlessly running in an attempt to escape his reckoning. Hopelessly unfit too, he gasped for air after just a single sprint, having to stop to catch his breath. He noticed a door to his right, a back-entrance for the nightclub. In his desperation, he grabbed the door handle and attempted to yank it open. But it was locked, and he hadn’t the strength to kick it open.
“Gordon Vorheal.”
He spun around, squealing at the sight of the Green Arrow standing just a few feet away from him.
“Please, please don’t kill me,” he muttered, begging for mercy even though he knew he likely wasn’t going to get it.
“You have failed this city!” exclaimed the archer, as he nocked an arrow and fired it.
Chapter 3
Summary:
Thea goes into labour.
Chapter Text
Of the many benefits that came with not living a life of vigilantism, the one that Oliver immensely appreciated was the substantially decreased amount of injuries sustained. His seven years of retirement provided an opportunity for many of his nagging injuries to heal and while he had yet to sustain another grave injury since his first fight with Azrael, his body still ached from the constant stress it was being subjected to. A stress that it hadn’t felt in close to a decade.
As Oliver stretched in his living room to increase the blood flow to his sore muscles, he wondered how he’d managed to live like this for so many years. Was it that his younger body could stand up to the wear and tear or was it that he had simply become so accustomed to the pain that it didn’t bother him anymore? Probably a combination of both.
There was a knock on his door and he rose from the floor to answer. It was Roy.
“Roy. Is something wrong?” he asked.
“An odd way of greeting a friend,” he replied, smiling, “Does something have to be wrong for me to visit my brother-in-law?”
“I guess not. Come in.” He stepped aside to let Roy enter before speaking further. “I haven’t seen Thea in a while. How is she?”
“She’s good, surprisingly zen. She’s the one giving birth and yet I’m the one who’s far more nervous.”
“She’ll be fine. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” asked Oliver.
“I just want to talk.”
“About?”
When Roy didn’t reply immediately, instead averting his gaze and fiddling with his fingers, Oliver rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing precisely what Roy was about to say. “I want to help.”
“Roy, we are not having this conversation again. You’re about to have a kid, you shouldn’t even be thinking about this.”
“But that’s the thing, Oliver. I can’t stop thinking about it because of the fact that I’m about to become a father. I don’t want my kid to grow up in the same city that I did. I want to make it a better place for him.”
“I wasn’t there when William was born. I wasn’t there either for the first nine years of his life, and there are very few things that I wouldn’t give up to change that. I never had the opportunity to experience those moments, but you do. Don’t throw it away.”
“You kept Diggle on the team when he had JJ. What makes this any different?”
“Because we’re also talking about my sister, Roy. I don’t want her to end up a widow.”
“You don’t think I can take care of myself? I’m still as sharp as ever. Let me prove it to you.”
Oliver scratched his head, frustrated with Roy’s persistence. As much as he had matured and grown into a fine man, he could still be a lot like that hothead kid who had to take an arrow to the knee to concede. Oliver didn’t have any arrows with him right now, so he settled for his fists instead.
He whipped a hand forward, but Roy saw it coming and slipped out of the way. With no intention of letting the test end there, Oliver immediately followed the single punch with a combination, winging out several fully-powered shots as fast as he could.
But somehow, Roy proved himself right. Despite Oliver’s best efforts, he dodged every strike before countering with a punch of his own. A left hook thrown with minimal power, merely meant to let Oliver know that he was there to be hit.
Oliver gently touched his lip, checking to make sure that he hadn’t been cut.
“See,” said Roy.
An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of Oliver’s mouth. “I must be getting slower.”
“If I’d thrown that with full power, you’d be on the floor.”
Oliver chuckled. “Yeah. Okay, you’ve proven your point, but let’s first wait for the baby to get here before we make a final decision.”
“Hopefully, that’s going to be soon.”
As fate would have it, his phone began buzzing, taking it out to see a call from Thea. His heart skipped a beat, and he answered immediately.
“Yeah?” It wasn’t Thea, rather one of the doctors at Starling General. “Right now?! Okay, I’m on my way.”
“Relax. Everything is going to be fine.” Oliver tried to calm Roy’s nerves as they paced to Thea’s ward in Starling General but in truth, he was just as anxious. He felt like he was the one about to have a child.
“You sure about that?” asked Roy.
“Of course. One hundred percent.”
“Oliver, I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out, man,” said Roy, panicking and stopping in his tracks.
“Well, then stop freaking out,” replied Oliver.
“That’s not very helpful!”
“Roy, listen to me… you need to calm down so that you can support her. That’s all you have to do. Just be there for her. The worst that’s going to happen is the baby looking ugly.”
Roy frowned.
“Immediately after birth,” quickly added Oliver, “Once he’s cleaned up, I’m sure he’ll be pretty cute. Now let’s go.”
They continued hastily walking to the ward, with Roy practically sprinting in as soon as they reached it. As Oliver took a seat in a nearby waiting area, he couldn’t help but smile as he thought back to the night that he realised Roy and Thea were more than friends.
He’d just saved Roy from Joseph Falk. Standing on the upper level of Verdant, he watched as Roy approached the distraught Thea, who immediately wrapped him in a tight embrace. It seemed like a million years ago, yet just yesterday. At that moment, Oliver thought of them as nothing more than infatuated young adults. He could’ve never imagined in his wildest dreams that they would end up where they were now.
But with the excitement and exhilaration that the past few minutes had brought, Oliver had felt a strong sense of grief and heartache accompany it. Roy was here, present for the birth of his first child, and that only reminded Oliver that he hadn’t been there for his. For as great of a bond he’d formed with his son, there were still things missing in their relationship. Certain voids that could never be completely filled, certain wounds that may have healed but had left scars, all stemming from the fact that Oliver had not been there when William was a child.
It compelled him to make a call. William answered after just three rings.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Will. How are you?”
“I’m alright. You?”
“Great. How’s the studying going?”
“Oh, you know, breezing through it as always.”
“Of course. Hey, um… I’m… I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not being there when you were a kid.”
“You didn’t know that I existed, so I can’t blame you for that.”
“But I should’ve. I should’ve been there.”
“Dad, are you okay? Where is this coming from?”
“Thea just went into labour. It’s giving me a lot to think about.”
“Look, you may not have been there when I was a kid, but… you did your best, Dad.”
“Was it enough?”
“More than enough… And who knows, maybe one day, you’ll have a second chance to give your next child what you weren’t able to give me.”
“Yeah… One day.”
“Mr Queen.”
Oliver was woken with a gentle nudge from a nurse. “Hmm?”
“He’s here.”
Oliver sat straight up, scratching his eyes. “Oh, that’s great. That’s wonderful.”
He glanced at his wristwatch, seeing that ten hours had passed since he and Roy had arrived. Aware that the labour was likely to last for several hours, Oliver got comfortable once he’d ended the call with William and decided to catch up on some recently lost sleep.
Immediately as he stepped into the ward and saw Thea on the bed, holding her child, he felt a radiating warmth flow through his body. The warmth of jubilation.
“Hey,” he said, walking closer.
“Ollie. Meet your nephew, Liam,” she replied.
“Liam. That’s a great name.” Oliver peered over, taking a look and noting that both of his hands were up close to his chin. “He’s definitely your boy,” he said, turning to Roy, “Holding his hands up like that, he’s a fighter.”
“Hopefully he doesn’t get into as much trouble as his father used to,” replied Thea.
“Used to, being the key phrase,” replied Roy.
Sensing that Thea was tired from the delivery, Oliver decided to leave to let her rest and give them some more time with their newborn.
“I’m going to be on my way. Congratulations. You’re both going to be amazing parents,” he said before leaving the ward. As he exited, he took out his phone and made a call to Mia. The sun had set, meaning that it was time to remind the criminals who the streets of Star City belonged to.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Oliver and Mia manage to track down Anthony Moreno.
Notes:
The first few chapters have really lacked action, but the story really starts picking up now. The next few chapters will feature a lot of action and will introduce the main villains of the story!
Chapter Text
“Got him!”
Mia’s exclamation drew Oliver’s full attention as he immediately jumped off the salmon ladder and walked over to her.
“Moreno? Where?” he asked.
“Rowan Lane. Vehicle plates: WDC0304. He’s nearing the city outskirts, I won’t be able to track him through CCTV for much longer.”
“Just keep me updated. Tell me when and where you’ve lost track of him,” replied Oliver, quickly grabbing his bow and suit jacket.
Their facial recognition algorithm had finally picked up on Anthony Moreno, who surprisingly turned out to be quite adept at hiding from CCTV cameras and the police. It had taken them three days to finally get a lead on his location.
It was unlikely that Moreno was heading to Diaz now, so Oliver planned to tag him with nanite trackers so that they could shadow his movements more effectively from here on out. Zipping through traffic, Mia’s voice spoke in his earpiece just as he turned onto Rowan Lane.
“I’ve lost him. Terrance Boulevard. Where do you think he’s headed?”
“He must be meeting with someone. There’s an old motel on Terrance Boulevard, it’s worth checking out.”
Pulling up in front of the motel, Oliver scanned the plates of the vehicles in the parking bays, and surely enough, ‘WDC0304’ was there. The little noise generated by his electric bike allowed him to maintain his element of surprise as he approached the building.
Moving to the doors of each room, Oliver placed a small device against the doors that would pick up and transmit any noise inside to his earpiece. On the first door, he immediately pulled the device away and staggered back, having unintentionally picked up on a couple having the time of their life. Regaining his composure, he continued for the remaining doors, which were either empty or the occupants sleeping. On the fifth door was where he found what he was looking for.
“This is all the cash? Don’t lie to me, cabron. You been stealing?”
That had to Moreno.
He placed the device back in a pocket before nocking an arrow and kicking the door open.
Four men occupied the room. Moreno, two enforcers and the street dealer. Both of the enforcers had arrows in their shoulders before they had a chance to raise their firearms. With them out of the way, Oliver chose to take care of the dealer first, pinning him to a wall with an arrow through the arm. The decision gave Moreno an extra split-second which allowed for him to scramble for his pistol and raise it.
But Oliver was still too quick for him, shooting the weapon out of his hand before he had the chance to fire. He hoped that Moreno would be smart enough to leap out of the window behind him, but as expected, he wasn’t. He charged forward, winging out a telegraphed punch which Oliver evaded with minimal effort.
While young and fast, Moreno had not the skill or composure to compete with Oliver for a single second. All of his punches were blocked, dodged or parried, not knowing that he was still in the fight only for the lone reason that Oliver was not planning on taking him out. Waiting for the right moment to feign a loss of footing, Oliver purposely slipped when the opportunity arose, allowing Moreno to land a clean punch. Being a vastly seasoned combat veteran, Oliver rolled with the blow to lessen its impact, but he stumbled away, giving the impression that the strike had hurt him.
This time, Moreno was smart enough to make a run for it as he sprinted towards the open door. He had no idea that he was doing exactly what Oliver wanted him to. Just before he was out of sight, Oliver jumped to his feet and fired the nanite arrow, aiming for the tip to skim past Moreno’s neck and ever so slightly cut him. That was all it would take for the nanites to inject.
He leisurely walked out of the room, spotting Moreno just as he started his car and started to speedily reverse away. Mia’s voice spoke on the comms, confirming that the plan had been successfully executed.
“The nanites have activated, I’m getting the signal right now.”
While Oliver was thoroughly pleased with the way the evening unfolded, Captain Smith wasn’t.
“You must be getting slow in your old age,” he said disdainfully, as Oliver approached him and Mack Morgan at what had become their customary meeting place.
“Father Time gets to us all,” joked Oliver, but Smith was having none of it.
“Letting Moreno get away like that was damn amateurish!” he exclaimed. “Hell, even Morgan over here would’ve tied him up. Now, we’ve lost our only lead on Diaz.”
“No, we haven’t.”
Oliver’s nonchalant attitude only irked Smith more. “Oh, really? You know something that I don’t?”
“Nanites, courtesy of Ray Palmer,” replied Oliver. “I tagged Moreno with them, and I’ll be tracking his every move from now on.”
“You’re saying that you let him get away?” asked Morgan.
“Yes. Now he’s going to lead us right to Diaz.”
“Is he even going to visit Diaz again now that he knows you’re on his case?” asked Smith.
“I don’t know, but what I do know is that there’s a far greater chance that he does while he’s out there rather than from the cell that you have waiting for him at Iron Heights. A little faith would go a long way, Captain. I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, sure,” replied Smith as he turned away, realising that he’d gotten overzealous, “Let us know if he goes anywhere interesting, will ya?”
“Will do.”
[PHILADELPHIA – 22:37]
“What do you think of her?”
Patrol officer Benson Ramirez of the Philadelphia police force posed the question to Alan Jones, his fellow officer, as they stood by a hotdog stand waiting for their late-night patrol snack. Jones was the senior of the two, having spent over a decade in the force while Ramirez had only served a quarter of that time.
“What I think don’t matter, son,” replied Jones, “What matters is what I know, and all I know is that she’s credited with twelve arrests thus far. She’s thwarted six muggings, three ‘B and E’s’, two vehicle heists and one attempt of graffiti at the Liberty Bell.”
Like Star City, Central City and Gotham, the city of brotherly love has its own benefactor. On the other side of Philadelphia, the lady that the two officers were speaking about stood atop a rooftop, looking and listening intently for any petty crimes that were taking place. Her fingers clasped around the grappling hook device in her right hand, her grip tightening as her concentration intensified. She wasn’t enhanced in any way nor was she a metahuman, but she had an indomitable passion to help others.
Part of it came from an impossible encounter she had twenty years ago when she was just nine years old. Visiting distant relatives in Gotham, she and her mother were snatched right off the street in the middle of the night and shoved into a van by human traffickers. Only nine and with the trauma of the experience distorting her sense of time, the ride seemed to last a lifetime until the van suddenly tumbled.
She’d heard the rumours. The myths of a demon that prowled the rooftops of Gotham City and hunted the wicked. She never thought of them as anything more than an urban legend until the doors of the van ripped open. She was the only one conscious at the time, her mother and the traffickers having been knocked unconscious by the crash. Having been paralysed by her state of shock, she couldn’t even scream as the black entity approached her.
She could only repeat a single phrase over and over. “El Diablo…. El Diablo… El Diablo…”
But when it neared and helped her out of the van, she realised that it wasn’t the devil, or a demon. It was just a man. A man seeking to do good, and from that day on, she sought to do good just like him.
She had chosen to call herself Virago.
Having trained martial arts since she was a child, she was now a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and a brown belt in Tae-Kwon-Do. Having started her career as a vigilante two months ago and fighting crime at a street-level rather than on a large scale like the Green Arrow and the Flash, she was only now starting to gain some notoriety.
“No! Someone, please help!”
Having picked up on somebody’s cries for help nearby, she fired her grappling hook and began swinging to the approximated location of the scene. But she made a fatal mistake in doing so…
She swung right into the crosshairs of a sniper.
With the rifle having a silencer attached to the barrel, she had no idea what caused the cord of her grappling gun to snap. Meters high above the ground, the fall into an alleyway broke several bones as well as cracked her skull. Helpless and in excruciating agony, she struggled to compel words out of her throat. Her whimpers for help were nothing more than a whisper until she eventually heard the footsteps of someone approaching her.
“Help me, please. Help.”
But the person didn’t. Using the little strength she had left, she lifted her head to look at the masked man standing over her. A black mask completely covered his face, the lack of eye holes doing little to quell the feeling of his gaze piercing through her. The outline of two white circles were woven into the fabric of the mask. A truly ghastly sight, making her wonder if she was already dead and if this person was merely a hallucination.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He dropped a small card in front of her, causing her to lower her gaze to read the single word written on it.
“‘Bang!”
A second later, he raised a large pistol and fired…
Bang!
This time, the bullet went straight through her skull, killing her instantly. He ripped her mask off her face before finally speaking.
“Call me… Onomatopoeia.”
Chapter 5
Summary:
Oliver takes down Ricardo Diaz before receiving some troubling news about an old adversary.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
[THREE DAYS LATER]
“That’s odd,” said Mia, as she watched Anthony Moreno’s car pull into the underground parking of a ritzy hotel in the city center through her CCTV feed.
“What is it?” asked Oliver as he walked over and peered at the monitors.
“Moreno just pulled into the Conrad. What business does he have with a one-percenter luxury hotel?” she asked.
“I think we may have just hit the jackpot,” replied Oliver, “Pull up the list of condo owners.”
“You really think Diaz is dumb enough to rent a place under his own name?” she asked as she retrieved the list.
“No, but under a recognisable alias,” replied Oliver. He eventually found the name that he was looking for. “There,” he said, pointing to it, “The owner of the penthouse. Richard Dragon.”
“How do you know that’s Diaz?”
“Richard Dragon was Diaz’s former mentor. Thermal scans, please.”
Mia initiated a scan of the penthouse. The results came through after a few seconds, causing her eyes to widen.
“10 armed hostiles plus one unarmed. I assume that’s Mr Richard Dragon,” she said.
“Big mistake,” replied Oliver.
“Him hunkering up in a penthouse under his mentor’s name? Yeah, not very smart.”
“Not that,” replied Oliver, walking away and grabbing his bow, “Him thinking that 10 men would be enough to keep him safe from me.”
Ricardo Diaz Jr. stood by the large glass panes in his penthouse, looking over the rest of Star City. Just a couple of months after he’d been broken out of Slabside, he’d already made enough profit from his drug-running to purchase the penthouse and began transforming it into a secure bunker in case things ever went sideways. If he ever ended up in his current situation: Azrael’s backing gone, the police making strides in shutting down his operations and the Green Arrow starting to catch up to him. He doubted that they would ever find him though.
Although they knew he was now wealthy, nobody would expect him to be staying in a penthouse right in the city center. Rather, they were looking for him in The Glades, anticipating that he was hiding in a slum or in a run-down hotel that he ran. If they ever did find out that he was here, he would know in an instant due to the moles he had in the police department. It wasn’t ever the police that he was worried about. The reason he’d fortified the place was because of the Green Arrow. That man… That man was something else.
Of the many teachings and sayings of Richard Dragon, there was one that rang truer for the Green Arrow than most men that had ever lived. “The man that can’t be bought is far more dangerous than the one who can.”
Diaz firmly believed that 99.99% of people in the world were the latter. If you could throw enough money at them, they’d always buckle, no matter what righteous façade they put up. But not the Green Arrow. He is one of the few that is truly who he says he is. He figured out by now that the reason he stopped seven years ago was because his team had somehow died, but even then, Diaz was sure that the only thing that he laid down was his bow. He must have continued to help clean up the city from the shadows, only coming out of retirement once a threat that couldn’t be fought from the shadows appeared – Azrael.
The way that Diaz ran his organisation attempted to ensure that if he ever fell, completely dismantling it would still require a continued, organised, incorruptible effort. That problem of a snake that doesn’t die even when its head is cut off is a problem that the Green Arrow now presented.
While every hero had a cult following, the Green Arrow was now starting a movement. He’d heard the rumours of vigilante archers in Austria and Japan, and only a fool would say that they weren’t inspired by the Green Arrow. If the original man behind the hood ever died or retired again, another one would pop up. Another hypocrite, not smart enough to realise that the only person ever worth looking out for is yourself. They were all going to die horrible deaths as a result of their stupidity, but the only death that mattered to Diaz was that of the original, and he wanted to be the one to personally deliver him to his maker.
Someone knocked on the titanium-enforced door of the penthouse. Diaz signalled for his men to open the door, knowing exactly who it was. Anthony Moreno stepped through, carrying a duffel bag full of cash. Diaz turned around and stepped forward to greet the young man.
“Only one bag today, mano?” he asked.
“Sales are decreasing,” replied Moreno, “Either our dealers are starting to take their own cuts or the police are doing a better job than we think.”
“Don’t worry about them. They ain’t going to shut me down anytime soon,” replied Diaz, “It’s the other guy that I’m worried about. How’d you get away from him? The full story.”
“He’s getting slower, mano. He’s not the same guy he was back in the day,” replied Moreno arrogantly.
“I said the full story.”
Moreno gulped, suddenly feeling a heavy weight on his chest. “There’s not much to say. He kicked down the door, took out the guys with me and then tried fighting me. He slipped, so I landed a lucky punch and got out of there. I also checked my clothes to make sure he didn’t plant a tracker on me. ”
“Good. Now get the hell out of here.”
Moreno turned away to leave. But as he did so, Diaz frowned.
“Wait a minute,” said Diaz, furiously pacing over before grabbing Moreno’s head and turning it. “What the hell happened here?” he asked, referring to the small cut on his neck.
“Nothing.”
“So it just got there by itself?!”
“He tried shooting me, but he missed. It just skimmed past me, mano, that’s all.”
“Oh. He missed?”
Moreno nodded.
“He missed,” repeated Diaz, lightly tapping the side of his head. Moreno’s fear subsided when Diaz smiled and began chuckling. But in an instant, he was bludgeoned with a punch that knocked him to the floor.
“You fucking idiot!” screamed Diaz in Spanish, before continuing in English, “If there was one thing that I thought we knew about the Green Arrow, it’s that he doesn’t… fucking… miss!”
Diaz swung his boot into Moreno’s face before drawing his pistol and putting a bullet through his skull. As the gun fired, the penthouse went completely dark, the lights being shut off.
“Secure the door!” screamed Diaz, as he walked over to the glass panes and peered at the opposing buildings. It was pointless to attempt to flee. The Green Arrow was nearby and Diaz wanted to see if he had a way to get into his fortress. He couldn’t make out a figure on the opposing buildings, but he knew that the Green Arrow was there when an arrow nudged into a glass pane. The glass was reinforced, preventing the arrow from cleaning penetrating. An incendiary arrow, it was unsuccessful in breaking the blast-resistant glass when it combusted.
“He’s going to need a whole lot more arrows to get through he-“
Diaz was cut short when five more arrows quickly hit the pane and exploded, shattering the glass and sending Diaz and his nearby men flying back.
With the glass now breached, Oliver fired a sonic arrow into the penthouse. Immediately, the deafening screech being emitted by the arrow sent Diaz’s enforcers into a state of painful disorientation. Zip-lining into the penthouse with a grappling arrow, Oliver immediately took the chance to put arrows in five of the discombobulated enforcers.
Crawling over to the sonic arrow, Diaz quickly snapped the sonic wave generator off and smashed it with his fist. Now without the benefit of sonic disorientation, Oliver quickly leapt behind a nearby pillar to take cover from the ensuing gunfire. Attempting to take a peek or return fire could prove disastrous, so Oliver bided his time. He’d already made out the weapons that they were using – Heckler & Koch G36 rifles being fed with 30-round box magazines. With a fire rate of 750 rounds per minute, Oliver patiently counted down the seconds until their magazines emptied
3… 2… 1…
The gunfire seized. Oliver leapt away from the pillar, nocking an explosive arrow and firing at the center of the five men.
Just as the incendiary arrow took out the last of the gunmen, Ricardo Diaz leapt up off the floor towards Oliver, not giving him enough time to nock another arrow. Having waited months for an opportunity to get his hands on the Green Arrow, Diaz channelled his anger and frustration into every strike, throwing with vicious intentions. Having rushed forward and now throwing a multitude of varying strikes, some managed to find their way through Oliver’s defences, who was shifting backwards and defending the onslaught.
Compared to Azrael, the only skilled fighter that Oliver had fought recently, Diaz had a much different style. While smaller and less powerful, his movements were far more chaotic and he threw far more kicks from unorthodox angles. This presented quite a different puzzle for Oliver to solve, but not one that was unsolvable.
Given how effective of a technique that the calf kick was, Oliver was baffled at how sparingly he used it in his younger days. Depending on the muscularity of an opponent’s leg, one powerful well-placed kick could easily be enough to damage the peroneal nerve, effectively numbing the foot and making one lose control of it.
With the amount of kicks that Diaz was throwing, a well-timed kick could disrupt his balance and give Oliver a chance to retake control of the fight. Eventually seeing his opening, Oliver threw a heavy calf kick and as he anticipated, swept Diaz off of his feet, allowing Oliver to pivot away and create space.
With distance now between them, Oliver fired a flashbang arrow at Ricardo Diaz, who caught the arrow and quickly flung it away before it activated.
“Really thought I was going to fall for the same trick again?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t put it past you,” replied Oliver, mocking him. The taunt angered Diaz, who engaged Oliver once again.
Ricardo Diaz was fighting like a raging bull, and unfortunately for him, he was in front of a deft matador. Having seen Diaz’s entry punch coming from a mile away, Oliver easily slipped to the outside of it before countering with a perfect right hook. Dazed from the blow, Diaz stumbled back and it was now Oliver’s turn to be the aggressor.
Another difference between Diaz and Azrael was their defensive capabilities. Azrael was far better at evading and blocking strikes before returning with powerful counters. While Richard Dragon was a skilled martial artist in his own right, his teachings were still levels below that of what Oliver had studied, and those levels were on full display as Oliver proceeded to put Dragon’s student through a meat grinder.
Unable to contend with Oliver’s skill, precision and ruthlessness, Diaz struggled to process the strikes that were coming his way. He blocked a few but the majority were starting to find their way through his guard. Oliver’s varied his attack too, puzzling Diaz who now had no idea when to drop his hands to defend a body strike or to keep them raised to protect his face. Eventually, he succumbed to the avalanche of pain, dropping to the floor after a knee to the body from Oliver.
“This ain’t over,” wheezed Diaz, “Go ahead. Lock me up in Slabside again. I’ll get out eventually.”
“You’re not going to Slabside, Diaz. You’re going to Purgatory.”
“Purgatory? No, I’ll see you in Hell,” he replied, pulling out a detonator from his pocket. Immediately realised that the place was laced with explosives, Oliver sprinted to the shattered panes, readying himself to jump out of the building. He could already feel the inferno of the explosions brush his back just as he was about to make the leap. Just as he felt as if the flames were about to engulf him, the heat disappeared as his body suddenly zipped through the air.
Coming to a stop on an opposing rooftop, Oliver took a moment to regain his bearings. He felt arms around his waist and looked down to see Supergirl gripping him. He looked back at the destroyed penthouse for a second before turning back to Kara.
“Close call,” she said.
“I was handling it,” replied Oliver nonchalantly.
“Not without sustaining some second-degree burns in the process,” she replied.
“First-degree,” replied Oliver, correcting her with a grin.
Kara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure… Dumbass,” she said before bringing her lips up to his for a peck.
As Kara and Oliver walked through Verdant and down to the lair, she continued to light-heartedly scold him.
“I thought we agreed to no ‘superhero-ing’ on date night,” she said.
“I know, but I finally managed to locate Ricardo Diaz. I thought I could take him down and be back in time.”
“I suspected that you were busy when you were late, so I called Mia. Thankfully I did, otherwise I wouldn’t have been there to save you.”
“I didn’t need saving.”
Kara frowned. “Really?” she replied, pulling out an arrow from his quiver and showing him the burnt bristles of the flechette.
“That’s not the grappling arrow that I was reaching for though,” replied Oliver, smirking to purposely annoy her.
“Whatever. Now that I think about it, why is it always me saving you?” she inquired, playfully poking at his ego, “The Dominators, Harris, Azrael, now Diaz…”
“Hey, I saved you in the Earth-X Crisis,” replied Oliver, “And didn’t we also agree to not keep score of things?”
“Sorry. It’s just, you know, Kryptonian memory. I remember things easily.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep reminding me that I don’t have superpowers,” he replied, pretending to be disheartened.
“But you do,” she replied, “Your superpower is being stubborn.”
Oliver sighed, not having any comeback due to the simple fact that she hit the nail on the head. As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the lair, Mia sprung up off her chair to greet Kara.
“Mia, it’s nice to see you again,” said Kara as they hugged.
Despite this being her third meeting with Kara, Mia was still “geeking” out over the fact that she was actually in the presence of Supergirl. “Yeah, yeah, good to see you too,” she replied, swallowing her words.
“Oliver’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?”
“No, no, we make a pretty good team. Right?” she asked, turning to Oliver.
“Yeah,” replied Oliver, chuckling. “Did you ever get that autograph?” he asked.
“What autograph?” asked Kara. Knowing what Oliver was doing, Mia’s head shook as her jaw dropped.
“Mia’s a massive fan of yours. I actually believe the more appropriate term is a… stan? She’s always wanted an autograph.”
“Since when do you know what a ‘stan’ is?” asked Kara.
“I googled it after Mia told me that she’s a ‘Supergirl stan’,” replied Oliver.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s being a goof,” said Mia quickly, trying to save face.
“I really don’t mind if you want an autograph,” replied Kara.
“I don’t. I don’t stan you either. I mean I do, but like, not in a creepy way or anything like that.”
Kara couldn’t help but giggle as Mia’s nervous rambling reminded her of her younger self. “I appreciate it. I’m going to be on my way now. Like I said, it was nice to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” replied Mia, shooting a middle finger at Oliver as soon as Kara turned around.
Kara walked away with Oliver to the other side of the lair. “So, you ruined date night. What happens now?”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he replied.
Her eyebrow raised as her curiosity peaked, wondering what Oliver was about to propose. “How?”
“Well… you can fly us to my apartment right now,” he replied, edging his face closer to hers, “Straight into the bedroom. And by the end of the night, I’m sure I’ll be forgiven.”
“That sounds promising,” replied Kara, giggling as her and Oliver’s lips met. But their kiss was cut short…
“Woah!”
They suddenly broke after hearing the exclamation from a deep voice, turning to see Diggle behind them.
He apologised immediately. “Sorry for interrupting, but Oliver, there’s something that you need to see. You too, Mia,” he said, calling her over.
“What happened?” asked Oliver, sensing the severity of the matter.
“Joe Wilson was just broken out of an ARGUS black site prison.”
“By who?” asked Oliver. Diggle handed Oliver his phone, showing him the footage of the man tearing through the facility with help of two others and releasing Joe from his cell.
Oliver immediately shook his head. “It can’t be.”
“Can’t be who?” asked Mia. Her question went ignored.
“It’s not him, Diggle.”
“The suit, the height, the build, the motivation for breaking Joe out. It all checks out.”
“He’s not that person anymore, John. It’s not him,” repeated Oliver, raising his voice in denial.
“Not who?!” exclaimed Mia, finally catching Oliver and Diggle’s full attention. Oliver handed her the phone.
Mia watched the footage, taking note of everything about the man. As Diggle had said, his height, his build and most importantly, his suit. The katana strapped to his back, the heavy armour and the mask…. Half-black, half-orange.
Oliver finally proceeded to answer her question.
“The original Deathstroke… Slade Wilson.”
Notes:
Oh yeah, Slade Wilson is alive.
For "When Destiny Calls", I did originally envision Slade as also having died on Lian Yu, and such would have been made clear in the story. But then something in my mind sparked and told me that I should never outright confirm his fate so that if I ever wrote a sequel to WDC, I could incorporate him into the story.
He is the character that I avoided putting in the tags early on. He will be appearing to help Oliver deal with one of the new threats that the city will face. He will be back and as badass as ever, so stay tuned! ;)
Chapter 6
Summary:
Joe Wilson meets the Deathstroke who broke him out of prison.
Chapter Text
“Let me guess, you can’t get a hold of him,” said Diggle as Oliver ended the unanswered call to Slade.
“These details are probably outdated,” he replied. Oliver hadn’t seen or spoken to Slade since November 2017 when he had helped him find Joe in Kasnia. “ARGUS is supposed to be keeping tabs on him.”
“We were until we lost track of him two years ago. His last known location was Buredunia.”
“That doesn’t mean that this is him, Diggle.”
“Who else could it be, Oliver? There are no other candidates unless this is someone new.”
Oliver closed his eyes, attempting to think deeply of anybody that could be a potential suspect. After a few seconds, the name finally sprung to mind.
[TWO HOURS EARLIER]
“Who the hell are you two?”
Having yet to speak with the Deathstroke that had broken him out, Joe Wilson decided to inquire further on the two metahumans who had accompanied him.
The British man answered first, politely extending a hand. “Charlie Allen.”
The Hispanic woman followed suit, albeit, slightly less courteous. “Valentina Quiñones.”
Their physical appearances and mannerisms seemed to accurately represent their powers. Allen, a teleporter, was lean and dressed casually yet sharply, while Quiñones was hulking and dressed in a green tactical suit. At nearly six feet tall and as muscular as either of the two men, one would not be remiss to think that she had super-strength at first glance, which she did.
Eventually, the chopper landed in a cornfield. Joe stepped out, still with no idea which country he was currently in, and eagerly waited for the Deathstroke to step out of the pilot’s seat and join him.
“Bloody took you long enough,” said Joe as he approached, “I was stuck in that shithole for two years.”
“Don’t be a cunt, mate,” he replied, “It was a black site, hard to track down.”
“Still, with everything that I taught you, you should’ve found me sooner.”
“Maybe you’re not as good of a teacher as you think,” he replied, finally taking off his mask. Elated to see him, Joe chuckled and embraced his brother, Grant Wilson.
“Fucking hell mate, it’s good to see you,” said Joe, “What have you been up to these past two years?”
“A lot,” replied Grant before elaborating, “Trying to find you, building an army…”
“For what?” asked Joe, chuckling at the absurdity of Grant’s statement.
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s first get back to the safe house.”
“Where’d you find these two?” asked Joe, gesturing to the two metahumans accompanying them.
“They’re part of a metahuman mercenary group called The Hangmen. The other two members are waiting for us back at the safe house.”
The drive to a safe house took them an hour, with Grant revealing to Joe that they were in the Albanian countryside. Joe was surprised at how well guarded the safe house, with several armed men being inconspicuously stationed outside.
As soon as Joe entered the safe house, his eye caught a silver knife gliding through the air before lodging into a wall. He looked to where it had been thrown from, spotting an American woman and Japanese man on the other side of the room with more knives in hand.
“That took longer than I expected,” quipped the woman.
“What’s wrong, darling? The FOMO getting to you,” replied Allen.
“Call me darling again and I’ll rip your brain apart, Allen.”
“So you are the brother,” said the man. “If ‘daddy issues’ had a face, it would be his,” he turned to the lady and joked in Japanese, unaware that Joe fully understood him.
“Watch how you use that tongue before I cut it out,” snarled Joe.
“Easy now,” said Grant, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder to calm him, “Leah Wasserman, Hiroyuki Serizawa. They hung back because I didn’t want to risk exposing their identities before their next job.”
After cooling the tensions, Grant let Joe freshen up with a shower as well as giving him a fresh change of clothes, some good food and a beer before they spoke more.
“Who are those blokes outside? Some of our old Jackal pals?” asked Joe.
“Nah. Cobalt,” replied Grant.
Joe’s eyes widened. “You’ve been busier than I thought. When did you start working with them?”
“I haven’t. Their leader, Azrael, is dead. The Green Arrow killed him.”
Joe scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m dead serious, brother. He’s back. With Azrael gone, I’ve gotten a few hundred of his men to join me for my next mission. A mission that I’d like you to be a part of.”
“What mission?”
Grant smirked before replying. “To take over Star City.”
Joe scoffed again, attempting to keep the urge to laugh contained in his chest. “I was the one in prison yet you’re the one who has lost their mind.”
“Star City is in shambles right now, brother. It’s primed for a takeover.”
“Why on Earth would you want to take over Star City?”
“Why not? We’d have a whole city to ourselves. We could do whatever we please.”
“I ask again, why do you want to take over Star City?” repeated Joe.
“Think about it, brother. This is our chance to rewrite history. We could do what our father failed to do.”
“I couldn’t care less about him,” replied Joe, the cold intensity in his voice freezing Grant for a second.
“And what about this?” asked Grant, as he held us his mask, “Does this mean nothing to you? This mask, our mask used to be a symbol of fear. Now, nobody takes the Deathstroke name serious anymore. If we do this, we’ll be feared and respected once again. The Star City police are weakened and the city is miles away from any military bases. I have over five-hundred men and enough firepower to bring the city under my control.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Joe, “We’d still need to get through the Green Arrow and his superpowered friends.”
“Why do you think they’re here?” replied Grant, pointing to the four metahumans. “Listen, brother. The choice is yours. You could watch Star City fall from the sidelines or you could be there when it happens and then rule it with me. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even get your hands on Oliver Queen and finally make him pay for what he did to our father.”
Joe Wilson thought deeply about Grant’s plans. Whether or not the effort of taking over Star City would be worth the rewards, what the chances were of them succeeding and if he actually had the desire and patience to carry out such a mission. He eventually came to a decision.
“Alright… I’m in. But your plan is horseshit. Storming the city guns blazing won’t work. As soon as we hit the city, the Green Arrow’s ‘super-friends’ are going to arrive and we’ll be thwarted in seconds, no matter what metahumans we have at our disposal. If we want to stand any chance of taking the city, we’re going to have to lure Supergirl and The Flash into a trap and eliminate them first.”
“How do you suggest we do that?”
“The old faithful Deathstroke tactics – Deception and diversion.”
“Right off the bat, there is no record of a Grant Wilson,” said Mia. Kara had left, telling Oliver she’d catch up with him later while he, Diggle and Mia researched further. “But with some more digging, I found a Grant Jericho.”
“You sure that’s him?” asked Oliver, as he looked at the image of the young man on the monitors.
“His mother is listed as Adeline Kane, Slade’s ex-wife, so it probably is,” replied Mia, before reading the rest of his profile, “Although, it doesn’t look like he took after his brother. Studied a Public Health degree at the University of Canberra before becoming a humanitarian, joining aid missions to various regions in need.”
“What is his last known location?” asked Diggle.
“It looks like he’s back in Canberra. He last went on an aid mission two years ago. A clean water project, digging wells in Nigeria for children.” Mia spun around to face Oliver and Diggle. “Look, unless we’re missing something big here, Grant Wilson is not our guy.”
“Yeah, it’s not implausible to suggest that all of that is just a cover-up, but it’s highly unlikely,” said Diggle, agreeing with her.
“Mia, I’m going to need you to keep digging,” said Oliver, “Start with Slade. See if you can locate him, then move on to Grant. We need to be sure that it’s not him.”
“I don’t know if it gets any more ‘sure’ than what I’ve just read,” replied Mia.
“I hate to say it, but you’re in denial, Oliver,” said Diggle, “And when you’re in denial, things tend to start going south.”
“John, there is absolutely no hard evidence to suggest that it was Slade. We can’t just assume that it was him.”
“Any more so than you’re assuming it’s Grant?”
“I’m just covering all bases. I’m sorry that I find it a little hard to believe that after seven years, Slade has suddenly had a change of heart.”
“Is it hard to believe or do you just not want to believe it?” asked Diggle, “People change, Oliver. You did. You were out of the game for seven years and you came back.”
Still refusing to concede, Oliver shook his head while Diggle continued. “You’re a father, Oliver, and I hate to bring William into this, but there isn’t a damn thing in the world that you wouldn’t do for him. Who’s to say that Slade wouldn’t do the same for his son?”
“I think if my son was a terrorist, I’d let him rot in prison,” remarked Oliver, “Keep me updated on any changes. I’m calling it a night.”
When Oliver returned to his apartment, he was surprised to see Kara sitting on a couch, waiting for him.
“I thought you said you were going home,” he said.
“I did, but then I came back when I realised that I should probably be here for you,” she replied, standing up and walking over to him.
“Thanks, but I kind of want to be alone right now.”
“I know, but that’s what you want, not what you need,” she replied, wrapping her arm around his and dragging him to the couch to sit with her, “I take it the research didn’t go too well.”
“Yeah. Grant Wilson is looking like a dead-end,” replied Oliver. “What do you think about this?”
“Well, a long time ago, Lena was framed by her mother and nobody else believed me when I told them that she was innocent.”
“Do you believe me?” asked Oliver.
Kara’s lips tightened. “A big reason why I believed that Lena was innocent was because it was unthinkable for her to have done what she was framed for. Is it unthinkable to believe that Slade would do this?”
Oliver sighed. “Whenever I think of Slade, it’s like I’m thinking of two different people. I see him as the man who helped me become the hero that I am today, but then there’s the other side. The Mirakuru-mad man that murdered my mother, and even though he’s cured, it’s not hard to imagine that that part of him still exists.”
“Which man do you think he is right now?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps. So, no, it’s not inconceivable that he broke his son out of prison, but I simply refuse to believe that he did.”
“Why?” pressed Kara, “Oliver, he murdered your mother. I can’t fathom how you still have faith in him.”
“Because I wouldn’t be here today without him. He has saved my life countless times. I am in debt to him as much as he is in debt to me, and I need to give him benefit of the doubt right now. I owe him that much.”
“After everything that he’s done, you still somehow find a way to see the good in him,” replied Kara in admiration.
“That’s a trait that I got from you.”
Kara smiled before giving him a quick peck on the lips.
Chapter 7
Summary:
Quentin addresses the leader of The Glades' separatist movement, while Roy struggles to get the hang of parenting.
Chapter Text
[18 NOVEMBER – 13:27]
“Why are we entertaining him again?” asked Captain Smith. He and Quentin were about to meet with Darrius Jenkins, one of the main leaders of The Glades’ separatist movement.
“He’s been pestering me for a meeting for weeks,” replied Quentin, “We can’t keep ignoring this guy, especially with the traction that the ‘Glades Autonomy’ movement is now getting.”
“Have you seen this guy’s speeches? He gives off serious Sebastian Blood vibes, and we all know how that turned out.”
“Come on, Matt, give him the benefit of the doubt. Let’s hear him out first, then we’ll decide how crazy he is.”
They didn’t have to wait much longer for him to arrive. Darrius Jenkins was born and raised in The Glades, and like many residents of the area, had a troubled upbringing. While he had never partaken in criminal activities himself, he’d seen and been a victim to them on countless occasions. He witnessed first-hand the many terrorist attacks on the city from which The Glades had often suffered the worst. Azrael’s recent attack on the city opened many old wounds, causing him and many others to lose faith in the Star City authorities.
“Mr Mayor, thank you for finally agreeing to see me,” he said immediately, offering a hand.
“Mr Jenkins,” replied Quentin, shaking his hand.
“Captain Smith, am I right?” he asked, turning to Smith. Smith nodded, shaking his hand as well. “I was under the impression that Chief Cormier would be here as well.”
“The Chief is a little busy, so he couldn’t make it. But I’ll fill in for him,” replied Smith.
“Please,” said Quentin as he gestured for them to move to the board room. “Let’s get right down to business. What exactly are you here to discuss, Mr Jenkins?” he asked as they all took a seat.
“Not to discuss, to negotiate,” replied Jenkins, “Negotiate a plan for The Glades to be recognised as an autonomous region separate from Star City.”
“I appreciate the frankness, but that’s simply not-“
Jenkins interrupted Quentin. “Please, hear me out first,” he said. Quentin nodded, allowing him to continue, “I’m not going to sugar-coat it, Mr Mayor. The people of The Glades have always been short-changed. We’ve always suffered the worst and we’ve been failed time and time again by the administration of this city, most recently when you allowed Cobalt to infiltrate the city and put The Glades back into the ditch which it took years to crawl out of.”
“And you think the solution to this is autonomy?” asked Quentin.
“The people no longer want to put their future in the hands of the Star City authorities. They want their own governance, to take control of their own fate.”
“I know how bad things are in The Glades, son,” interjected Smith, “Trust me, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I understand where you’re coming from, but nobody could’ve anticipated the last six months. This movement looks like an awful lot like an overreaction. In time, The Glades will recover.”
“Unfortunately, Captain, time is not a commodity that we have,” replied Jenkins, “It took decades for someone to finally come along and enact meaningful change, and we’re not content with waiting any longer.”
“Alright, we understand,” said Quentin, “You said you were here to negotiate a plan. Surely you have something in mind?”
“Yes.” He pulled out a document from his bag and handed it to Quentin before speaking further. “Other leaders of the movement drew this up with me. It’s a detailed plan with terms and conditions that would allow for us to be self-sustaining by the New Year.”
Smith cocked his head back. “By the New Year? That’s a month and a half away.”
“Like I said, we’re not waiting any longer. Myself and several others will be on our equivalent of City Council, initially adopting the local legislation of Star City before amending it to our choosing. We’d like for the SCPD to gradually withdraw from The Glades, staying present until our own policing department can stand on their own two feet.”
“You’re joking, right?” asked Smith, affronted even he though he expected a plan of the sort.
“I’m not asking for us to be completely severed from the rest of the city, we’d still be working very closely with your department and City Council.”
“Look, son,” said Quentin, dropping the document after only skimming through the first page, “If you came to me with this pitch a year ago, I might’ve actually considered it. But it’s simply not feasible right now.”
“Quentin is too nice to say it, but I will,” said Smith, “These demands are ridiculous and ludicrous. This has the potential to end horribly and the work that it would take to make The Glades an autonomous region would not be worth the end result.”
“I promise you, things will get better. The people of The Glades will regain faith in us and then there won’t be a demand for autonomy anymore,” said Quentin reassuringly.
Jenkins sighed, exhaling heavily out of frustration. “You better work fast then, Mr Mayor. Tensions are rising and if the people of The Glades don’t get what they want soon, they’re going to take it.”
“Then you better keep them in check,” replied Smith.
“I am merely a voice for the people, I do not and cannot control them. The reason I’m here is to prevent this from getting ugly. I’m trying to do this the right way.”
“You’re trying to do this thing the right way, but have you stopped to think if this is even the right thing to do?” asked Quentin. Without a rebuttal, Jenkins stood up from his seat.
“Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” he said, nodding before leaving the boardroom.
“Shush, shush, shush, it’s okay, don’t cry, don’t cry.”
Roy pleaded with Liam in vain, who had begun wailing out of the blue.
“Don’t cry, Daddy’s here, okay? Daddy’s here,” he said, picking him up from the bassinet. Even though he’d done an extraordinary amount of research on caring for a newborn and had been home for over a week, he still hadn’t quite got the hang of carrying an infant yet as he awkwardly held Liam close to him.
With Thea sleeping upstairs, Roy had brought Liam downstairs with him to allow Thea to rest in case he started crying again. Raisa had been staying with them and helping too, but she’d just left to buy groceries, so this was his first time alone with Liam and he had no idea what to do to calm him. Desperate, he pulled out his phone, making a call to Raisa. She didn’t answer, so he tried several others.
“Sin, I need your help.”
“What’s up, Abercrombie? Is that your kid in the background?”
“Yeah, he won’t stop crying and Thea is sleeping. How do I get him to stop crying?”
“I don’t know! Why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know. Sorry, I’m desperate.”
“Is he hungry?”
“No, we just fed him.”
“His diapers changed?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I don’t know, man. Babies just cry for no reason sometimes.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay, thanks for the help.”
Roy ended the call, quickly making another one. The person didn’t answer, causing it to go to voicemail.
“This is Mia Dearden. Leave a message.”
“Mia, you’re good with kids, right? You look like you’re good with kids. Liam won’t stop crying. Just… just tell me how to make him stop crying.”
[SEVERAL HOURS LATER]
Oliver opened the door to Thea’s loft, carrying two packets of Big Belly Burger with him. He looked to the couches, spotting Roy sitting on one next to the downstairs bassinet.
“Hey, I brought you guys some take-”
“Shh, shh, shh.”
Oliver’s attention turned to his left. He spotted Raisa seated at the kitchen island, pressing a lip to her finger before pointing back to Roy. Immediately understanding that he was asleep, Oliver tip-toed over towards him, doing his best to make as little noise as he approached.
He couldn’t help but grin as he looked at the exhausted, fast asleep Roy before moving to the bassinet. Just like his father, Liam was snoozing. Oliver couldn’t help but crack a smile as he looked at the adorable infant.
“I was right… You did turn out pretty cute.”
Chapter 8
Summary:
Oliver and Kara run into a little bit of trouble on date night.
Chapter Text
“How are you still so terrible at this?!”
Kara’s exasperated exclamation only added to the heavy embarrassment bogging Oliver down as he stood dead-still with his head in his hands. His eyes were fixated on his right boot, his mind cursing it as if it were an agent with a will separate from that of the rest of the body. The jubilation that came with scoring his first strike of the night was immediately offset when Kara pointed out that he’d stepped nearly a whole meter over the foul line.
Oliver Queen was not good at ten-pin bowling.
“Not good” was honestly putting it politely. Hopelessly inept seemed a more appropriate description of his proficiency. For some reason, this was a game that he simply could not get a grasp on, which was a shame considering how much Kara seemed to enjoy it. He at least took comfort in the fact that although he couldn’t challenge her, he could still make her day with how horrible he played.
He turned around to face her, seeing the all too familiar expression of disappointment combined with amusement painted all over her face.
“You’re even worse than the last time we played!” she exclaimed.
Oliver slowly walked towards her, momentarily glancing at the monitor above their lane to confirm the lopsided score. Kara – 127. Oliver – 49.
“May I remind you that if this were a knife-throwing competition, I would be soundly ahead,” he replied, attempting to regain his recently lost sense of pride.
“But we can’t challenge any of our friends to a knife-throwing competition.” Oliver raised a hand to retort, but Kara shut him down, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Besides Alex!”
“A pool game, then,” added Oliver quickly, “I’m still great at pool, so we’d definitely mop the floor with everybody else.”
“Of course, but I was just hoping that you’d somewhat gotten better at this over the past couple of years.”
“Sorry, bowling just really isn’t my thing.”
“It’s okay, tough guy.” She smiled warmly, gently slapping his arm in an effort to reassure him that he didn’t need to be ashamed.
Kara stepped forward, gracefully building up speed before effortlessly sending her ball towards the newly arranged pins. Initially off-center, the ball’s trajectory changed as it spun towards the center of the pins, crashing into them and clearing the area. Strike.
There were still two more frames to be played in the game, but Kara decided that there was no need in hurting Oliver’s feelings even more tonight.
“No mas?” she asked.
Oliver nodded immediately. “No mas.”
Two years is a long time. With how fast the world moved and how life usually unfolded, a person could go through several life-altering events within that timeframe and in many ways, completely change. Both Oliver and Kara knew that the other had changed in their two years apart, just how much was the question they needed to answer.
They were relieved to find out that they each were very much like the person that they’d previously known and loved. In the early stages of their relationship, nights out like tonight were fairly common. As they grew more comfortable and settled into a real relationship, both were far more content with spending time at their respective homes, lounging about on the couch and watching movies while stuffing their faces with takeouts. Now presented with the dichotomy of feeling a little like a new couple while also retaining the bond and comfort of an established relationship, they’d been going out twice a week to have some fun.
Tonight was the night that Oliver dreaded. It was inevitable, of course, that Kara would eventually ask to go to a bowling alley. As expected, his shambolic showing today reminded him of the many times that he’d costed him and Kara games against Alex and Kelly. Although he wished that he was better, it hardly mattered. Each and every second he could spend with her was a welcome one, and a terrible bowling performance could hardly dampen the fun he had spending time with her.
As always whenever he was in National City, the city seemed calm and had an air of bliss surrounding it. Walking with Kara back to her apartment, they seemed to be the only two on the street at one point.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier,” said Oliver, “The Governor came to City Hall to meet with me.”
“What for?” she replied.
“He wanted to know if I still had any political aspirations and when I said no, he tried to convince me otherwise.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He even said that I could successfully run for President in 2032, potentially even 2028.”
“Oh no, Oliver Queen as POTUS? Nuh-uh. You’d make archery mandatory for the school PE syllabus.”
“Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea. Archery teaches discipline, patience, composure… Then again, I’d probably make another murderous archer in the process, who we’d eventually have to take down.”
“And we’ve dealt with enough of those over the years, haven’t we?”
“Tell me about it. You’re even dating one!”
“What can I say? He’s pretty charming.”
Of the few rules that Oliver and Kara set for their relationship, the one that they just couldn’t seem to adhere to was “no ‘superhero-ing’ on date night”, as it just so happened that they would run into some trouble. A car screeched as it pulled up next to them before three men armed with pistols jumped out. They ran in front of Oliver and Kara, blocking their path before raising their firearms.
“Wallet, purse, now!” said the man in the middle. In disbelief that they were actually being robbed, Oliver and Kara both frowned before turning to each other and smiling. “Are you two deaf? Hand them over!”
“Get back in the car and drive away,” said Oliver, “Trust me, you’ll be better off if you do.”
“You think I’m joking? I’ll shoot you right here, asshole!”
“Okay, so then do it.”
The robber’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Come on, shoot me.”
Not wanting to waste time by arguing, he pulled the trigger, only to be dumbfounded when Oliver remained unscathed. He fired again, only to achieve the same result. He fired once more to no avail, causing paranoia and hysteria to set in.
“You an alien?!” he asked, now quivering with fear.
“No, but she is,” said Oliver as he gestured to Kara, who held up a hand and opened it to drop the three bullets that she caught. Before he had a chance to flee, Oliver quickly grabbed the gun before tossing the robber to the floor and knocking him out with one powerful punch. The other two were knocked out by Kara in an instant.
Neither were worried about their identity. With the concussions that they’d just dished out, the robbers weren’t going to remember a single thing. Kara walked back to Oliver, pretending to dust her hands off.
“Well, that’s an eventful way to end the evening,” she said. With the hint of adrenaline in his veins causing him to lose some mindfulness, Oliver suddenly pulled Kara close and planted his lips on hers, their soft flesh intertwining for several seconds before Oliver decided to break away. His face still hovered close to hers as he spoke.
“The evening isn’t over yet,” he said, endearingly yet with a hint of animalistic desire.
“You never did make up for that missed date night.”
“What are we waiting for then?”
With blood starting to pulse through her veins at an already fierce rate, his words only served to arouse Kara more as she wrapped her arms around him before bursting into flight back to her apartment.
A sudden halt in momentum lasted for no more than a second as Oliver found himself being pushed against a wall. The butterflies that arose in his stomach from the flight couldn’t subside. They remained, solely due to the fact that his lips were now tangling with Kara’s. One hand wrapped around her waist and the other pulling away her ponytail, working through her now free-flowing hair. Her hands were all over him too, running over his chest before impatiently starting to tug at his shirt and coat.
“Slow down there, Danvers,” he whispered, smiling against her lips.
“Not a chance.”
He surrendered to her fleeting pace, knowing that he couldn’t fight against it even if he wanted to. He shed his coat before raising his arms to allow her to take his top off before she did the same. His fingers trailed down her back, locating the clasp of her bra. It eventually fell, and with her bare chest now pressed against his, his arousal raised to an unprecedented level.
Two years apart was indeed a long time. Neither had moved on nor even attempted to, the result being them both touch-starved. They’d lost out on a lot of time, and that included a lot of time in the bedroom. In the past month, they’d been more than eager to catch it all up, albeit, sometimes not always in the bedroom. Momentarily breaking away to catch his breath, Oliver glanced away from Kara to confirm just exactly where they were in her apartment. They were indeed in her bedroom, much to the relief of the sofa and kitchen counter.
Desire trumping her patience, Kara tugged him to the bed and allowed him to fall atop her. Their lips recaptured for a moment before Oliver’s mouth wandered away, finding her neck.
“You ready to apologise?” she asked playfully.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, his voice heavy with a torrid craving, “Although, I should warn you. What I’m about to do to you, Kara Danvers… I might have you waking the whole building up.”
“What are you waiting for, then?”
Urging him on, her teeth dug into her bottom lip as his mouth began to trail further down her body.
After their feverish, ardent love-making, Oliver and Kara laid together in bed, still euphoric from their satiating climaxes. She was strewn across the bed, her head resting on his abdomen.
“Sorry for pulling your hair,” said Oliver apologetically, having gotten a little too excited at one point.
“It’s okay,” replied Kara, “Speaking of my hair, I’ve been thinking of getting rid of the bangs.”
“Bangs or no bangs, either way, you look great.”
“Not as great as I feel,” she replied, more than pleased.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven for missing date night?”
“Yes, you’re forgiven,” she said before turning over to look him in the eyes, “You, Mister Queen, are a naughty, naughty boy. You sure know how to make me merry.”
“I aim to please.”
“You certainly hit the bullseye, Green Arrow.” She slid forward, lowering her lips to his neck before sliding her hand down his chiseled abdomen.
“I don’t know where you’re going with this but I’ve shot all my arrows already,” said Oliver.
“Come on, isn’t there anything left in that quiver?”
After a moment of consideration, Oliver smiled before turning her over, his body now on top of hers.
“I think I can nock one more,” he said, giggling with her as their lips pressed.
Chapter 9
Summary:
An awry training session prompts Mia to reveal to Oliver that she is HIV-positive.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Although Gordon Vorheal had been eliminated, the fact that he had come to Star City to make a deal with the Triad confirmed to Oliver that they were getting bold and potentially even planning something big. A power vacuum had been left behind by Ricardo Diaz’s death and Oliver couldn’t allow them to fill it. He made a call to his Bratva contacts to inquire about the location of Li Khuan Hi, the man currently leading the Triad contingent in Star City.
With no other glaring targets to take out, he chose to rather train with Mia instead of patrolling the streets.
She’d been a bit distant and on edge as of late. On more than one occasion did he inquire and ask if she was okay, but she always brushed it off and said that she was perfectly fine. He didn’t really buy it, he was simply too smart and too adept at reading a person. He respected her choice not to tell him, but having formed a fatherly bond with her, he tried to cheer her up and help her in the one way he was sure that he could: Through training.
Although reluctant at first, Mia eventually decided to take his offer and seemed to enjoy the training much more than she anticipated. Despite decent combat training from ARGUS, Mia quickly discovered the difference between a good fighter and a great fighter. Often times she’d feel like she had the upper hand in an exchange only to realise just how much Oliver was holding back.
“Nice change of tempo,” complimented Oliver as their bamboo sticks continuously clashed.
“Variable acceleration, right?” asked Mia, trying to recall what Oliver had told her in a previous session.
“That’s the one.”
Having gotten a read on her pattern, timing and favoured angles, Oliver believed himself to be safe and became too complacent for just a second. One of her sticks just brushed the tip of his nose, skimming past his face only because he’d managed to lean away in the nick of the time.
Mia’s eyes widened. “Almost got you, old man.”
“Hey, don’t call me that,” replied Oliver, re-engaging her.
Knowing he had to stay focused now, Oliver upped the intensity to test just how much she’d improved. Wanting to see if she could evade a strike just as he did, he slowed the tempo of his strikes to gauge her reaction. Would she attempt to keep the pace high or make the mistake of allowing him to dictate it? Tired and with her muscles aching, she chose to do the latter.
Now feeling as if she was lulled into a false sense of security, Oliver threw his strike at a lumbar speed and telegraphed the swing of his arm so as not to make it too difficult for her. But it was still timed to perfection, ensuring that it had a great chance of making contact.
But it missed.
Mia barely had to move her head to dodge the strike, having simply shifted out of range using footwork. Footwork was the one aspect of fighting that Oliver felt was underappreciated. He even believed it to be the most important aspect of combat since it dictated the range of the fight and the amount of power you could generate in strikes, so the fact that Mia already had the presence of mind to use it made him more than happy. It made him proud.
“Good job!” exclaimed Oliver, “I think that’ll be it for today,” he said, offering a hand to Mia as a gesture of his pride and approval. Mia let out a heavy breath as she slumped, weakly raising her fist to allow Oliver to fistbump her.
“Good. I was really starting to burn out at the end there,” she said.
“Didn’t seem like it. You masked it well, which is good. Really good,” said Oliver, still amazed at how quickly she was learning, “Just don’t start getting any ideas about going out in the field.”
“Oh no, that’s your domain. I’m more than happy behind the sanctity of my computers.”
Mia’s satisfaction with her performance began to dissipate as her gut started to churn. She quickly snatched her bottle of water, downing half of it in one go in a futile attempt to quell her nausea. With her head now starting to feel light as well, she stumbled momentarily before catching herself. Oliver immediately noticed that she wasn’t feeling well, but what he did not know was that it wasn’t from the training.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, dismissing his concern even though she could feel her mouth flooding with saliva. “Just need to go to the bathroom.”
She staggered forward, only managing to take a solitary step before dropping to her knees. No longer able to control the involuntary spasms in her chest, she vomited, emptying the contents of her stomach on to the training mat below her. Oliver immediately ran over, gently placing a hand on her back. She heaved again, now feeling even sicker due to the wretched taste in her mouth.
“Here.” Oliver handed her a water bottle, but she hadn’t the chance to take a sip before she regurgitated for the third time.
“I’m sorry, I think I pushed you too hard today,” said Oliver.
“It’s not from the training,” she muttered in reply. Just as Oliver attempted to leave her side to grab a towel, she gagged again. Her stomach was now completely empty, but that didn’t stop her throat from convulsing as her body continued its attempt to expel any substance from it.
“You’re not well. You need to see a doctor, I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said. He hooked an arm under her shoulder to lift her up, but she refused to move.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Mia, this is non-negotiable. This isn’t from the training, this is something else.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you need help. This is not normal.”
“It is for me. The doctors said this might happen.”
“What? What are you talking about?” he asked, utterly puzzled by her words. A notification popped up on one of the monitors, prompting Oliver’s head to turn to it. He narrowed his vision to read what the alert said – Armoured truck heist on Hester and Parkes.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing,” replied Oliver, far more concerned about her wellbeing at this moment.
“Just go, I’ll be fine.”
“Mia, I am not leaving you while-“
“Just go, dammit!” she exclaimed, startling him, “I’m not a fucking child, Oliver, I can take of myself!”
As much as her outburst alarmed him, Oliver chose to adhere rather than persist, giving her one last pointed look before grabbing his suit jacket and bow.
After handily stopping the heist, Oliver chose to stay in the field for another hour for two reasons – To give Mia some more time to calm down and for him to come to his own conclusions about why she had said what she said.
“The doctors said this might happen.”
There were only two explanations for what that meant. She was either pregnant or sick. As far as he knew, Mia didn’t have a boyfriend, so the first scenario was unlikely. That unfortunately meant that she was likely sick, and Oliver could only hope that it wasn’t something serious.
She was seated by the monitors when he returned to the lair, not turning to face him as he entered. The training mats were out in a corner, having been cleaned and left out to dry. He remained silent as he leaned against the table he placed his bow down on, waiting to see if she would speak up first. She did.
“Sorry for lashing out at you.”
“It’s okay. When someone lashes out at me, I usually deserve it,” replied Oliver jovially, attempting to lighten the heavily somber mood in the room. “Mia, I know that something has been bothering you as of late. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I care about you and I’d like to know.”
“Sure, I’ll tell you.”
“Are you sick?”
“Yeah.” She paused to gather herself before continuing, “Those tablets that you saw a while back weren’t iron tablets. They’re… they’re my ARVs.”
A pit formed in Oliver’s chest as the revelation hit him. His fists and jaw involuntarily clenched as a result of the anger now starting to consume him. Anger at many things, but mainly at himself. He’d taken a lot of flak over the years for blaming himself, but he’d already connected the dots for her case. He may not have caused it, but he was the one who had failed to prevent it from happening.
“I recently just went on a stronger dosage and the doctors said that one of the side effects might be nausea. I found out at the hospital after you rescued me from Davenport,” she continued, “Unfortunately, you weren’t always there to bail me out. There were nights where I would have to stay on the street and shoot speed to stay awake so that I didn’t get raped. That’s probably how I got it. Sharing needles.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“Wasn’t relevant. And besides, people treat you differently once they know that you’re HIV positive.”
“What makes you think that I’d treat you any different, Mia?”
She finally spun around to face him. “Because it’s happened before with people that were close to me. All of a sudden, you see them hesitate for a second when you offer to shake hands or hug. They sit a bit further away from you, they talk behind your back. Some of them even act like they don’t know you.”
“I would never do that to you. You’re no less of a person just because you have some disease.”
“If only everyone else shared that sentiment.”
“Screw everybody else. You don’t need their approval and you never will. The only validation you need is from yourself.”
“You think I don’t know that?!” Feeling her temper flaring again, Mia paused to take a breath and compose herself. “Look, you can stop feeling sorry for me. I don’t need your pity.”
“I’m not doing that, Mia, I’m just… I’m just trying to be here for you.”
“You don’t need to burden yourself like that. I’m fine. Really, I am. My prognosis is good and I’ve come to terms with it by now. I’ve just accepted that I won’t be able to have a normal life. Not that I really want one, anyway.”
As much as Mia was trying to convince Oliver, a part of her was trying to convince herself too. She had accepted her fate, that part was true, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t wish things could be different. Sometimes, the fact that a life partner seemed unattainable only made her crave that intimacy and companionship more.
Oliver knew by now that his words were hardly a comfort to her. He could do so much more for her with just his actions, so he walked over, immediately kneeling and wrapping her in a tight hug without a hint of hesitation.
“Mia, you are one of the most amazing people that I know, and you have a long, wonderful life ahead of you,” he said before letting go of her.
He kept a hand on her shoulder and looked directly into her eyes as he said his next words. “Nothing is ever going to change how much I love and appreciate you. If you ever need anything, I’m here for you.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “Listen, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else. Just keep this between you and me, for now.”
“Of course. I’ll keep your secret since you’re keeping mine,” he joked while pointing at the fabric of his hood, managing to bring a smile to her face.
Notes:
A/N: I know the past few chapters have been very character-focused with very little action, but we'll get back into the thick of things in the next few chapters. The intensity is really going to ramp up!
Chapter 10
Summary:
For the first time in nearly a decade, Roy goes into the field, making his return as Arsenal.
Chapter Text
“You think it still fits?”
Roy Harper posed the question to his wife as he held up his Arsenal suit. Laying on the bed with Liam pressed close to her chest, Thea turned her head to contrast the cut of the suit with Roy’s body.
“With that dad bod, I doubt it,” she joked, opting to tease him instead of telling the truth. Roy recognised this, simply breaking out a smile and shaking his head in reply. She wasn’t entirely wrong though. The last time Roy had worn the suit was nearly a decade ago when he was still a budding 24 year old. While still slender and agile, his body had physically matured and he now packed several more pounds of lean muscle.
“Cisco’s new suit isn’t ready, so it’ll do for now,” said Roy. Tonight was set to be his first night back in the field, his stance on helping Oliver having not changed despite Liam’s birth. That was hardly surprising to all parties involved. What was far more surprising was the fact that Thea had given Roy her blessing to become Arsenal again.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, taking a seat next to her on the bed.
“Yeah.” She did her best to reply resolutely, but a slight tremor in her voice spoke to the uncertainty she was still feeling for his safety. Roy picked up on it immediately.
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
Thea sighed. “I mean, would I prefer that you don’t go out there? Of course. But I have just enough reason to believe that you’re going to be fine.”
“Why?”
“Because of Ollie,” she succinctly replied before elaborating, “If you were going out there with anybody else, I’d say no, but you have probably the baddest motherfucker on the planet watching your back. There are no other hands that I’d rather put your life in.”
“If he’s that ‘bad’, then why do you think he needs me by his side?”
“Because even he needs help sometimes. He’ll never admit it, of course. Same old Ollie, thinking he can handle everything by himself. I feel better knowing you’re out there together, both watching each other’s back rather than going at it alone... And because the baddest motherfucker on the planet could use the second baddest motherfucker by his side,” she replied with a smile, drawing a chuckle out of Roy.
He lowered his gaze to Liam, “Don’t do anything cute until I get back.”
“Remember, you don’t get to decide what’s best for others.”
Recalling the pointed talk he had with Kara, Oliver repeated the phrase over and over in his head in a conscious attempt to put himself at ease. He still hadn’t fully come to terms with Roy’s decision to help him. Right now, he was taking solace in two facts: The first, that he was going to be by Roy’s side and watching his back, and the second, that Roy was physically as good as ever. He knew the latter from Roy helping him train for Azrael and most recently bettering him in that short physical exchange.
But there were still plenty of questions that needed to be answered about his field readiness. Could he still perform under pressure? Could he still control the chaos around him and maintain a level head? These questions needed definitive answers for Oliver to even think about letting him help on a regular basis again, but the only way to get these answers was to see him in action again.
Having obtained the location of Li Khuan Hi through the Bratva, Oliver was going after him tonight. While it was likely that his death or imprisonment wouldn’t be enough to drive the Triad out of Star City again, putting him away would severely hamper any plans that they have going forward. Li was hiding in an abandoned shipyard and after stealthily scouting the place, Oliver figured that there were no more than 15 men here with him. A perfect test for Roy.
“That’s a first,” said Oliver as Roy joined him in the lair.
Roy raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Bags under your eyes,” joked Oliver, “Liam keeping you up all night?”
“Very funny. Luckily, my years of prowling The Glades overnight have prepared me for it. I’m fairly used to running on minimal sleep.”
“Parenthood is a whole different ball game than vigilantism, son,” replied Oliver. “You’ll probably find it more difficult than what we are about to do.”
“Where’s Mia?” asked Roy.
“I gave her the night off.” Oliver gestured for Roy to come closer, showing him the image of Li Khuan Hi on the monitors, “Li Khuan Hi. Leader of the Triad contingent in Star City. My Bratva contacts said he’s hunkered up at an abandoned shipyard.”
“Isn’t it weird that we’re trying to eliminate organised crime yet you’re still buddy-buddy with the Bratva?” Oliver turned to glare at Roy, who shrugged his shoulders defensively. “Valid question.”
Allowing the Bratva to remain active in Star City was one of the necessary evils that Oliver had to enable in order to rid the city of other criminal organisations. The Bratva never had a massive operation in Star City anyways, it was extraordinarily small compared to that of the local gangs and Triad. Therefore, turning a blind eye to a theft of pharmaceuticals every once in a while seemed a fair trade-off for gaining intel on other, much larger criminal operations.
He continued his explanation without skipping a beat. “I scouted the place earlier, I estimate no more than fifteen men on patrol. My guess is that he’s hunkered up in the offices,” he said as he pointed to its location on the satellite images.
“So, what’s the plan? Distract and flank, you draw the patrols’ attention and I go after Li?”
“No. We stick together,” replied Oliver, with a stern look which told Roy that this was not to be argued. “I’ll be on the ground, I want you up on the shipping containers. Your parkour still as good as it used to be?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” replied Roy with a smirk.
“Suit up.”
Having studied and analysed their patrol patterns, the Green Arrow and Arsenal’s infiltration into the yard initially proved to be without any conflict. They avoided the patrols and continued to stealthily move towards the offices. However, all it would take for them to be spotted would for one guard to break the pattern, to deviate from their assigned routes and Oliver and Roy would be compromised. Surely enough, that was what happened.
They found themselves not far from the offices before a patrol spotted Oliver, screaming to alert the rest of the men and raising his gun. Oliver reached back for an arrow but it wasn’t needed, as a red arrow flew past him to embed itself in the man’s shoulder. It was purposely not meant to be a kill-shot, but Oliver didn’t mind as he ran up and knocked the man out before turning to thank Roy with a nod.
More shouts resonated throughout the yard and Oliver listened intently to decipher the direction from which the men were approaching from. He spun around, nocking an arrow firing at a man immediately as he came around a corner. Two more followed him, meeting the same fate.
He heard more footsteps from a pathway behind him, between two containers. He spun around again, this time swinging his bow directly at chest height to knock the man to the ground just as he cleared the pathway. Quickly knocking him out before spotting another man atop a container in front of him, Oliver rolled away to avoid the incoming gunfire.
Nocking another arrow, he turned to fire it but once again didn’t need to. The man was pushed from the container to the ground by Roy, losing consciousness from the fall. Oliver watched as Roy turned to his right and fired two arrows at men out of sight, hearing their screams as they fell to the ground.
By now, Li had definitely heard the commotion. Oliver continued to move closer to the offices, taking out more men along the way with Roy’s help, who fought and performed far beyond Oliver’s expectations. He was leaping effortlessly from container to container without tiring or missing any of his shots. The latter was even more impressive given his reluctance to kill since he had to master the art of firing at very specific non-lethal and yet debilitating areas. Marvelling at Roy’s skill, it took Oliver a second to snap out of it and spot Li fleeing from the office building.
“He’s making a run for it,” said Oliver, before being forced to leap behind cover again when shots were fired at him from behind.
“I’ve got him,” replied Roy over the comms.
Having counted 14 men down, Oliver waited a second before returning fire, taking out the last man. He broke out into a sprint too, following the sound of Roy’s gallops on the containers above. He eventually managed to get a visual of him, but still didn’t have eyes on Li. Roy did, so Oliver followed him, having to work a little harder to keep up than he anticipated. He knew full well that Roy was younger and faster than him, but he didn’t expect Roy to slowly pull away from him the longer they continued to run. He only managed to come side to side with him when Roy temporarily slowed down to leap over a hurdle.
Now at the edge of the yard, Oliver spotted the chain-link fence several meters away, also taking note that there were only two containers left for Roy. As he turned the corner at the final container, Oliver immediately spotted Li and reached back for an arrow.
But at the last second, his eyes shifted upwards. He watched as Roy jumped from the container, majestically spinning through the air while simultaneously nocking a bola arrow and firing it while still mid-flip. The arrow expanded into a net, tying up Li right as Roy landed gracefully in front of Oliver. Roy turned around to face Oliver, grinning from ear to ear.
“The flip was just unnecessary,” joked Oliver.
“So, what do you think?” asked Roy.
Simply astounded, Oliver couldn’t reply with words immediately, only being able to stick out a hand at first.
“Welcome back… Arsenal,” he said eventually, shaking his hand.
[WILDCAT BOXING GYM – THE GLADES]
Ted Grant placed the broomstick back in the small storage cabinet of his gym after sweeping through the place. Today, just as he did for the six other days of the week, he cleaned up once classes were done for the day. Sometimes, a student of his would stay behind and help, but today he was alone. He didn’t mind it. Right now, on this monumental day, he preferred to be alone with his thoughts.
Today was the 16th anniversary of the opening of the Wildcat Gym. Dedicating his life to martial arts, particularly boxing, was what stopped him from falling into a life of crime. He opened up the Wildcat Gym with the intention of providing that same opportunity to the other troubled youths of The Glades. His goal had been bolstered a few years ago when Oliver Queen, the mayor of Star City at the time, approached him about working directly with the Rene Ramirez Foundation.
With many children and adolescents of The Glades coming from broken homes, they sought out to find a family elsewhere. Unfortunately, that usually meant joining gangs. The Wildcat Gym gave them another path instead. They could join a family that instilled values of respect, compassion, honour and discipline while also giving them a way to let out their pent up anger at the world in a healthy way. Initially, he found his results to be varied, but working with the Rene Ramirez Foundation proved to be a great help. They created the Good Fight Initiative, a program that allowed impoverished children to train at his gym for free, their only payment coming in the form of good grades at school.
Working with the foundation and city administration helped him not only succeed in his goal but even surpass it. Although now, things seemed to be back to the way they were before Queen became mayor.
Cobalt had done a number on the city, especially The Glades. During the evacuation, he donned his Wildcat suit one more time to help fight and get people to safety. Once the city was safe again, he threw his suit back into its storage cabinet and locked it away once again. He had no desire to continue being a vigilante nor was he needed as one. Not only did the Green Arrow have things under control, but Grant also had seen enough of that life to know that he wanted no part of it.
He was never close with Laurel Lance on a personal level, but she had been one of his favourite students from the many he’d trained in his lifetime. When she was murdered by Damien Darhk, he felt an intense sorrow comparable to the grief of losing a good friend. Shortly after, guilt set in too, for he had trained her and therefore indirectly helped her become a vigilante.
Of course, she was smart enough to know the risks and dangers when she’d made the choice to become one, but that didn’t make her death any less tragic. Of the hundreds of people that Grant had known in his lifetime, Laurel Lance was one of the few whom he could say was, quite simply put, a good person. And good people like her should never be subject to that fate.
Step. Creak.
Hearing what seemed to be a faint footstep outside of his office, Grant’s first thoughts were that it was a student who had left something behind.
“Who’s there?” he asked. No response.
He wondered if he had imagined the sounds for a second, but with the current state of The Glades, he dared not to be complacent. He reached into a pocket of his jacket, grabbing the two knuckle dusters that he always kept with him. Fitting them around his knuckles, he exited the office and vigilantly treaded through the gym.
He saw nobody and heard nothing else, but remained on edge. His eyes caught a small white object on the floor a few meters in front of him. Upon walking closer did he realise that it was a small card, similar in size to that of a business card. However, it appeared blank.
He picked it up and turned it over.
“Slit.”
Puzzled by what the lone word on the card meant, he let it drop from his hand without care.
But as the card dropped from his hand, so did a body from the ceiling, landing behind him. He tried to spin around, but one hand quickly wrapped around his chest, holding him in place with otherworldly strength. From the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of a blade in a gloved hand just before it pressed against his throat.
Slit.
Grant’s body dropped to the floor as blood spurt from the gash that sliced through his jugular. He brought a hand to his throat in vain, attempting to stop the outpour while the killer knelt next to him.
He didn’t have his mask right now, but he was still Wildcat, so Onomatopoeia settled for the knuckle dusters as trophies, pulling them off of Grant’s fists before leaving him to drown in his own pool of blood.
Chapter 11
Summary:
Onomatopoeia sets his sights on the Green Arrow and Arsenal.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Their third night consecutively in the field together, Oliver and Roy were continuing their crackdown on the Triad. In the past month, the SCPD had made healthy progress in shutting down Triad brothels and with the Green Arrow having just taken down Li Khuan Hi, higher-ups in the criminal organisation were already beginning to divert resources to their other operations across the West Coast, operations that were not being threatened by the Green Arrow. Having studiously kept his pulse on the Triad’s sex-trafficking operation, Oliver had received word that a new shipment of young women had come in tonight.
The Green Arrow’s recent exploits had forced the Triad to air on the side of caution. Instead of sending the trafficked girls straight to brothels, they were being kept in several different locations that were perceived to be more secure before they would be blooded into the trade. One of these “secure” locations was a warehouse in Orchid Bay.
Oliver enjoyed having Roy back on his team more than he should have, but he still worried about his safety for more than one reason. Not only because Roy was now a father, but also because of lingering guilt over the deaths of teammates in the past. He’d made peace with it by now, but it was a fear that could never go away. However, it was a double-edged sword. While it made Oliver paranoid, it also made him even more protective. He would make sure that Roy remained unscathed during this run, no matter who or what they came up against.
“This place sounds dead,” whispered Roy as he and Oliver entered the warehouse. “Are you sure they’re not gone?”
“No, they’re definitely here,” replied Oliver, “Let’s split up, but do not engage without me.”
They headed on separate paths through the warehouse. As their search continued, it began to appear that Oliver’s answer to Roy’s question may have been wrong. They came across no Triad guards, forcing them to reconsider whether their intel had been wrong. Almost the entire place had been scouted before Roy finally found what they were looking for.
He turned a corner and finally laid eyes on the trafficked women being kept here. He fought hard to stop his stomach from churning upon seeing the condition that they were in. There were at least ten women, being kept in cramped cages as if they were animals. A nauseating smell wafted in the air near them.
They were all shaking, their faces painted with fear and agony.
“I’ve found them,” said Roy, “Far right side of the warehouse, about 90 yards from where we entered.”
“I’m on my way. Mia, tell Morgan that our lead was correct.”
“He’s on the way to the warehouse as we speak,” she replied.
One of the girls spotted him. Expecting her to be relieved, Roy was instead startled when leapt forward, grabbing the bars of her cage and screaming at him in Chinese.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m getting you out of here,” replied Roy, but his efforts to calm her failed as she continued wailing. “Shit… How do you say “you’re going to be fine” in Chinese?”
“ 你会没事的 ”
“Ni hui méi shi de. Ni hui méi shi de,” repeated Roy, his pronunciation atrocious. The woman simply shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes before pointing to the floor. Roy looked down. Nothing, at first. It was only when he took a step back that he spotted the white card that lay on the ground. He squinted his eyes to read the lone word printed on it.
“Thud!”
Another girl spoke up, this time whispering in English. “He’s still here.”
Just then was there a loud, heavy thud behind Roy. He whipped around quickly, his eyes widening as he spotted the masked man several meters away on a raised platform. There appeared to be metal structures conforming to his limbs, an exoskeleton of sorts.
This masked man was not the source of the thud. Instead, Roy’s eyes lowered to the body that had just been thrown from the platform… the headless body.
He looked back to the masked man, seeing a large pistol in one hand and the decapitated head of the Triad member in the other.
“Roy, someone has taken out the Triads.”
Roy, silenced by the horrifying sight in front of him, didn’t reply. The masked man threw the head to the floor before jumping from the platform, firing his gun at Roy. Anticipating this, Roy jumped out of the way to avoid the first few bullets, but he couldn’t dodge them all.
If it weren’t for his new suit being lined with Cisco’s bulletproof fabric, he’d be riddled with metal by now. Five of the many bullets fired punched into his suit, the impacts hitting Roy as hard as that of a Mirakuru soldier. He raised his arm to his face and turned away, protecting himself and shielding up until the man’s magazine emptied. Despite the severe agony that his body was in, Roy leapt forward as soon as he heard the gun click.
Not giving Onomatopoeia time to reload, Roy immediately swung his bow into his head. The strike did little damage, as he turned back to look at Roy almost as if he was disappointed with the power behind the strike.
Roy ducked under the following punch before rattling off several more strikes of his own using his speed and agility. None of them appeared to have a significant effect on Onomatopoeia, who took them all without flinching before grabbing a hold of Roy and flinging him several meters away with ease into a wall.
Before Roy could even think about getting up to his own two feet, he was lifted in the air and pinned against the wall. He struggled for air as one of the man’s hands wrapped around his throat before the other ripped his hood off.
Onomatopoeia appeared to ponder for a moment if he should take the mask too, but decided not to as he shoved the hood into a pocket before raising his pistol to Roy’s head.
Crack!
Instead of a gun, it was a bow that fired this time. Before he could pull the trigger, the gun was knocked out of Onomatopoeia’s hand by an arrow. He let go of Roy and turned to face the Green Arrow, the man he’d truly come to Star City for.
He caught the next two arrows that were fired at him, but with both of his hands occupied, the several others that came his way sunk into his chest and arms. Five arrows lodged into his body, forcing him to drop to a knee.
Before Oliver had the chance to send the last one through his skull, he swiftly pulled out a grenade, removing the pin and releasing the lever before throwing it towards him. With no other choice but to retreat, Oliver sprinted back and took cover, waiting for the detonation before turning back around with an arrow already nocked on his bow.
But Onomatopoeia was no longer there.
Oliver ran over to attend to Roy, relieved to see that none of the bullets had penetrated his suit and that he was not fatally wounded. Still injured and in agony, Oliver had to help him to his feet before they fled the scene.
“What the hell happened out there?” asked Mia, watching as Oliver helped Roy to a chair.
“I don’t think you want to know,” replied Roy, groaning as he took a seat. He unzipped his suit jacket and took it off. Large bruises from the bullet impacts were sprawled over his arms and chest. “Can I get some oxycodone?” he requested.
Mia immediately grabbed the meds and handed them to Roy along with a bottle of water and an ice pack. He gulped them down quickly before icing his bruises.
“We ran into… someone,” said Roy, not knowing exactly how to describe their adversary.
“He murdered the Triad members before attacking us,” added Oliver.
“What? Another vigilante?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Oliver, “He got away. Black mask, two white circles on it. Roy said he was wearing some type of exoskeleton but he must be a metahuman as well. I put five arrows in him and he still had enough strength to lose us. He left a card as well,” he said, handing it to Mia before turning back to Roy, “I knew this was a mistake.”
Roy rolled his eyes. “Please don’t start with this shit again.”
“What if I wasn’t there to save your ass, Roy?”
“But you were. That’s what we do, right? We’re a team. We watch each other’s backs.”
“But if I didn’t get there in time, if I was just a split-second too slow, Liam would be fatherless right now!”
“So would William if Kara wasn’t there six months ago!”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, you’re goddamn excused!” Roy shouted, rising to his feet to stand up to Oliver, “Are you like this naturally or do you actively try to see how hypocritical you can be?”
“Shut up, both of you!” screamed Mia, “Now is not the time.”
The voice of reason at this moment, she brought the two under control.
“Roy, you’re beat up pretty bad. You had a bad night in the field, but that’s okay because Oliver was there to get you out of trouble. There’s no shame in that,” she said, “And Oliver, instead of chewing out Roy, maybe compliment him for holding off an enhanced serial killer long enough for you to get there. Now both of you meatheads come here and take a look at this.”
They walked over, peering at the monitors where Mia displayed the findings of her surface-level investigation.
“There’s not much on him,” she explained, “No name, no alias, no identity, but we do have a track record. Like I said, serial killer. He appears to be targeting non-powered heroes and vigilantes, killing them and then taking their masks as trophies. He leaves a card at every kill, usually an onomatopoeia describing how he kills his victims. He’s been in Star City for at least two days since he murdered Ted Grant.”
“Ted Grant is dead?” inquired Oliver, having not heard of the news.
“Yeah, he was found dead in his gym with his throat slit,” explained Roy.
“This guy must have targeted him because he used to be Wildcat,” added Mia, “Now, he appears to be after you two. That’s all I’ve got.”
After taking a moment to process the information, Oliver spoke first. “We need to do more research into his exoskeleton. We figure out how to disable it, we figure out how to stop him.”
“On it. Now, apologise to each other,” she said sternly. When both Oliver and Roy remained silent, she shifted to another monitor and overrided the lock of the entrance door, “Neither of you are leaving until you do.”
Oliver and Roy finally turned to each other. “Sorry,” said Roy first, offering a hand.
“Sorry,” replied Oliver, shaking his hand.
“Now did I really have to lock the place down to get you two do that?” asked Mia, spinning around in her chair to face them. Oliver and Roy’s lips pursed, both holding in a smile.
“You didn’t lock down the alternate exit, so we still could have left,” said Roy.
Mia nodded before slowly turning away from them. “Noted.”
Oliver stayed behind at the lair for another hour to help Mia with research into the man at the warehouse, but just like with her initial search, they found nothing else noteworthy. Without a name, his identity and motives remained a mystery. What they did find out was that he’d been active for the past two months, initially starting with street-level vigilantes and then working his way up to more accomplished heroes. Going after Wildcat proved that he didn’t care whether the vigilantes were active or not, so as a precaution, Oliver advised Diggle to take the family to an ARGUS safe house for a couple of days.
Oliver’s midday breakfast was interrupted by an unexpected phone call from Walter Steele.
“Walter. How are you?” he said as he answered.
“Well. I trust that you are too?”
“Of course.”
“That’s good to hear. Well, someone just landed their helicopter atop Queen Industries and said that he’s here to see you, oblivious to the fact that you don’t work here.”
“What it’s about?”
“He said that it’s regarding your ‘evening activities’.”
Oliver’s body tensed. “Who is it?”
“Bruce Wayne.”
Notes:
Bruce Wayne cameo incoming!
I always considered it a shame that Bruce and Oliver never got to interact in the shows given that they were the first two vigilantes on Earth-1. As you can expect from their upcoming encounter, there'll be a bit of jealousy accompanied by begrudging respect between the two.
Chapter 12
Summary:
Bruce Wayne visits Oliver, providing him with vital intel on Onomatopoeia.
Chapter Text
Oliver Queen had only met with Bruce Wayne on two occasions in his life. Once in 2006 when they were at the same nightclub in Las Vegas, and then in 2022 when Oliver sat in on a meeting between him, Walter and Thea to close a deal between Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries. They were both well aware of their double lives, although by now, Bruce had retired and was only acting as a mentor to Kate Kane.
Oliver stepped into Walter’s office, immediately spotting him seated with Wayne at his desk. Both stood up as Oliver entered, Bruce having to grab his walking cane and lean on it to support the weight that he could not place on his right leg.
“Long time, no see, Mr Queen,” he said cordially with a broad smile.
“Walter, can you give us the room please?” requested Oliver.
As Walter left, Bruce walked over to the windows of the office, taking a look out at the city. “Ever thought of running for president? You somehow managed to turn this place around, imagine what you could do for the whole country from the Oval Office,” he joked.
Oliver had no desire to small-talk. “Cut the chit-chat, Bruce. Why are you here?”
An air of jealousy hung heavy in the room. Both men envied the other. Oliver’s reason was far more petty, simply being irked by the fact that Bruce was the true first vigilante. For Bruce, he lamented the fact that Oliver had been the one to kick-start the age of heroes. He often spent time wondering how much more he could have done if he too had the likes of the Flash and Supergirl by his side and how much of the injuries now crippling him could have been prevented.
But for as much jealousy and envy that they possessed for the other, they held an even greater respect. Both had given years to the same cause, sacrificing parts of their soul and body to make the world a safer place. One of their more striking similarities was that of their association to the League of Assassins: Oliver through Sara, and Bruce through Talia. Unaware that Bruce had been viewed by Ra’s as a potential successor at one point in time, Oliver also didn’t know that one of the reasons why Talia had chosen to help him and had taken such a liking to him was because she saw a lot of a young Bruce in him.
Bruce turned to face Oliver, now speaking earnestly. “I heard about Harper. Is he alright?”
“He’s fine.”
Bruce nodded, empathetically sharing Oliver’s relief. He knew all too well the pain of losing a protégé. He reached into a pocket of his coat, grabbing a USB before walking over to Oliver. “He calls himself Onomatopoeia. He hunts down vigilantes and then takes something of theirs as a trophy, either a mask or associable weapon.”
“You know who he is?” asked Oliver.
“No, but I know how you can take him down,” he said, handing Oliver the USB. “Kate and I began tracking him a few months ago when he stole a Wayne Tech experimental exosuit. The specs are on this USB. The suit is powered by an exolithium battery. If you can target and destroy it, the suit will shut down and he won’t able to move.”
“Since this is a mess that you’re responsible for, is Kate here to help take him down?”
“No, she’s still tied up with some things in Gotham.”
Oliver rolled his eyes, initially annoyed before realising that this was an opportunity to poke at Bruce’s ego. “And what about you? Has the Bat truly hung up his cape once and for all?”
“Yes, he has,” Bruce replied, smiling before tapping the floor twice with his cane, “I’m not exactly the man I used to be.”
“Your Applied Sciences division just developed a military-grade exoskeleton. I’d be a fool to think this is a project that you have no personal interest in.”
Although Oliver was right that this project was one that Bruce had commissioned, he was wrong in thinking that the Batman had retired simply due to physical ailments. “I didn’t stop because of my body. I stopped for the same reason that you did.”
It took Oliver only a second to put it all together. The Batman beating The Joker to death right around the same time that “Robin” had “disappeared”…
“This is a young man’s game, Oliver,” continued Bruce, “We can’t do this forever. I found my successor, perhaps it’s time that you find yours… You’re welcome for the intel,” he said, walking past Oliver to leave.
Not content with Bruce having the last word, Oliver spoke up. “Well, you know what they say… Fear the old man in a profession where men die young.”
Bruce smirked, acknowledging the truth of Oliver’s statement with a nod before leaving.
After spending the rest of the day studying the specs of the exoskeleton, Oliver was joined by Mia in the lair just as the sun set over Star City.
“I got my hands on the specs of his exosuit,” said Oliver as she approached him at the computers.
“How?” she asked, taking a seat on the chair next to him.
“Courtesy of an old acquaintance. This guy calls himself Onomatopoeia. He stole the suit from Wayne Enterprises”
“Wayne Enterprises, huh? No surprise that they’re up to no good.”
“The suit is powered by an exolithium battery that’s situated on the back. Unfortunately, it’s protected by an electromagnetic field, so it can’t be disabled remotely.”
“Exolithium battery, you say?” asked Mia, intrigued.
“What are you thinking?”
Mia began typing. “Running a suit like this probably requires an exorbitant amount of power, so in order to charge the battery, you’d be drawing an equally exorbitant amount of the power from the electrical grid.”
“Can you-“
“Got it,” she said, having already searched for it, “There was a power trip at the Grenshaw substation three hours ago.”
Oliver rose from his seat, immediately walking over to the case storing his suit. “This guy wants my hood. Let’s see if he can take it.”
Chapter Text
Given how much Oliver had learned to enjoy the thrill of the fight, it had taken some time for him to learn that the mundane path of least resistance usually ended up being the safest. Engaging Onomatopoeia in a fistfight could be disastrous. For all of the skills he’d accumulated over the years, Onomatopoeia more than made up for it with his exo-enhanced strength and durability. One strike was all it would take for Oliver to lose and he knew that. Ending this fight before it even started by ambushing Onomatopoeia and disabling the suit was the safest route to take, and as always, if things went sideways, Oliver had a contingency plan in place.
As Oliver moved through the substation, he passed by the corpses of several substation workers. Their cause of death varied. Some had slit throats, others missed parts of their head, one even had a crushed face caused by the impact of a powerful blow. Next to each of their bodies lay a small card describing the manner of death. Slice. Bang. Crack.
Despite having first-hand witnessed an array of strange things and the worst of human nature on many occasions, even Oliver was disturbed by the eeriness of everything surrounding Onomatopoeia. His capabilities, his modus operandi, why he was targeting vigilantes… nothing about him seemed to be conventional. Yet, at the same time, he seemed grounded in reality. He was both natural and supernatural, a walking dichotomy of an actuality and a phantasm.
Stealthily and slyly searching the station, Oliver felt the same as he usually did when out in the field. He felt like he was the hunter, but right now, he wasn’t.
He was the hunted.
His heightened senses picked up on the sound of a metal contraption scraping the floor and rolling towards him. He turned to locate the source of the sound just a few feet away from him… A frag grenade with a white card strapped to it. “Boom.”
Oliver lunged away and dropped prone to the floor to avoid the cone-shaped shrapnel hurtling through the air from the combustion. Having judged where it was thrown from, Oliver jumped to his feet and fired two arrows before sprinting behind a transformer to take cover. There was no return fire. No more grenades. Nothing. Only an eerily dead silence that lasted for several seconds.
Having been ambushed, Oliver wondered if he would be better off fleeing and coming back for Onomatopoeia another day. However, he was being stalked, and with his bike far away, he figured that another confrontation was inevitable. He nocked an arrow on his bow before continuing to vigilantly move through the station, constantly spinning and turning to cover his flank.
A minute passed before the silence was broken. To his left, Oliver picked up on the very faint sounds of mechanical gadgetry running. For all of the perks that the exosuit granted, it had inadvertently given away Onomatopoeia’s location.
Cautiously and quickly turning a corner, Oliver spotted him. Although turned away from him, it was not enough to fully expose the compartment containing the exolithium battery. With his head and neck also being protected by the exosuit, Oliver could only attempt to severely wound him. He fired, lodging an arrow into Onomatopoeia’s shoulder before firing another to knock the pistol out of his hands.
He turned to face Oliver before sprinting forward at an immeasurable pace. Oliver could only fire one more arrow before Onomatopoeia was within arm’s reach, who once again was unfazed by its penetration into his flesh. Knowing that any single strike from Onomatopoeia could very well end the fight, Oliver was forced into an overly defensive mindset. He dipped, ducked and dived away from every strike while only landing one or two in return before moving away again. He constantly tried to manoeuvre behind Onomatopoeia, hoping to get the chance to jam an arrow into the exolithium battery, but the opportunity simply wouldn’t come.
Even the most experienced fighter could get frustrated in the heat of a fight. Oliver knew that first hand from his first fights with Ra’s and Azrael, but no matter how many strikes Onomatopoeia seemed to miss, he continued to fight without showing a trace of emotion. It was as if he had no feelings at all, creating the perception that he was more machine than man.
In the corner of his eye, Oliver spotted movement atop a transformer many yards away. Movement of a red figure. His contingency plan.
Knowing that Roy didn’t have a clean shot at the battery, Oliver started circling ever so slightly to his right to draw Onomatopoeia in that direction, thereby creating the target for Roy. But in doing so, he moved directly into a punch.
There wasn’t even pain at first. The entire right side of his face numbed, the pain instead engulfing the left side of his face when it hit the concrete floor. A knee pressed into his sternum while he felt a hand wrap around his throat. Another reached for his hood.
“Tell me, do you have a card that says “Crack”?” Oliver asked, unusually taking a moment to joke. Onomatopoeia tilted his head, startled by Oliver’s strange question.
Crack!
The crack of a bow echoed through the substation before Oliver heard the exosuit short-circuit and shut down. Onomatopoeia’s body immediately went limp as he dropped to his knees while the grip around Oliver’s neck loosened. He caught his breath before rising to his feet, turning to face Roy who was now walking over.
“You’re late,” said Oliver.
“Actually, it looks like I’m here just in time to save your ass,” he replied with a smirk, teasing Oliver.
“I let him hit me on purpose to set up your shot,” replied Oliver with a smirk of his own. He and Roy both turned serious when they looked back at Onomatopoeia.
Oliver reached to his face, grabbing the mask. He hesitated for a second, fearing what he’d see, but eventually decided to pull it off. Onomatopoeia lifted his head to look at them, giving Oliver and Roy their first look at his horribly disfigured face.
“Do you know him?” Roy asked.
“No.”
Scars from shrapnel and blade slices were scattered all over his face. The right side of his temple down to his jaw was deformed from a burn, the injury seemingly having caused his right eye to completely white out. He blankly stared back at Oliver and Roy, devoid of any emotion while awaiting his judgement.
Notes:
I know you're probably wondering where the Deathstroke brothers are. Don't worry, you're going to see them again soon.
They're going to arrive in Star City shortly, and I'm sure you know that that is going to draw the attention of one of their not-so-happy parents ;)
Chapter 14
Summary:
A routine grocery run for Oliver turns grim when the Deathstroke Brothers arrive in Star City.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Deeming Onomatopoeia too dangerous of a threat to stay in a regular maximum-security prison, Oliver handed him straight to ARGUS instead of the SCPD. However, even their rigorous processing measures came up short on answers to the questions about Onomatopoeia’s true identity. With no matches on DNA or prints, Onomatopoeia really was, for all intents and purposes, a phantasm. As much as his unknown past and backstory intrigued Oliver, there was no time to dwell on the matter. Once one threat is put away, it’s always paramount to immediately turn your attention to the next.
It was now over a week since Joe Wilson had been broken out and ARGUS had made little progress in locating him or finding out the identity of the unknown Deathstroke. Grant Jericho was confirmed to still be in Canberra while Slade’s whereabouts were still unknown. With no other potential suspects having sufficient motivations to break out Joe, Oliver’s faith in Slade was starting to wane. Diggle and Kara’s words were starting to ring truer and truer to him. He didn’t want to believe that it was Slade at first, but now, he had no choice but to. All of the circumstantial evidence was present and the fact that there was no hard evidence was the only thread that Oliver could hang on to.
Midday in Star City, Oliver realised that it was time for his weekly grocery run. After downing his coffee, he grabbed his coat before heading to a small convenience store not far from his apartment building. He was immediately greeted with a warm smile from the lady at the register.
“Afternoon, Mr Queen,” she said.
“Hi, Mrs Ainsley,” he replied.
The store wasn’t very busy, with Oliver being one of only five customers at this time. He didn’t shop for long, taking less than five minutes to find what he needed.
“That’ll be $45.90,” said Mrs Ainsley after scanning the last of Oliver’s items.
“Keep the change,” said Oliver, handing her a $50 note. “Have a good day, Mrs Ainsley.”
As Oliver headed for the exit, he listened to the exchange between the next customer and Mrs Ainsley, initially not making much of it.
“Hey, I found this backpack in one of the aisles,” said the young man. “Do you have any idea who it might belong to?”
“No,” replied Mrs Ainsley. “I don’t recall seeing anyone come in with a backpack today.”
“Yeah, I asked the other customers here and they said it’s not theirs.”
Oliver had already gripped the door handle and turned it. With a simple pull, he could step out of the store and be on his way back to his residence, but he didn’t do that. Every instinct told him not to. The intuition he possessed, one that had been crafted and honed for years, told him that this was too peculiar of a situation to let slide. He could assume that nothing was wrong and that he was being paranoid, but then he remembered…
Assumption is the mother of all failures.
“Uh, where did you say you found it?” he asked of the young man, turning around to face him.
“It was just sitting in one of the aisles, shoved under a shelf. Is it yours?”
“No. Mrs Ainsley, you said that you didn’t see anyone come in with a backpack?”
“No, I don’t think so, but maybe I just didn’t notice it.”
A backpack left unattended in a place like Star City was certainly no good omen. Oliver let out a deep breath before shifting his gaze back to the young man, speaking clearly and sternly. “Listen, I’m going to need you to put that bag down.”
“Why?” he asked, oblivious to the potential danger that he was in.
“It might be a bo-“
Oliver had not a chance to finish words. His paranoia was proven warranted as he suddenly found himself blinded by a flash and sent flying through the air as if he’d been struck with a powerful punch in the chest.
A few meters away from the epicentre of the blast, Oliver was lucky to not be engulfed by the flames, instead only being shoved back by the shockwave. He felt his body fly through the glass doors before he landed on the concrete pavement outside, being dazed when the back of his head snapped back onto the pavement. His ears ringing and disorientated, it took him a few seconds to recover and finally raise his head to look back at what was no longer a convenience store, but an abhorrent mess of rubble and flames.
Civilians rushed over, helping him to his feet while he raised a hand to the back of his head. His hair was wet with warm liquid and saw his fingers painted with blood when he brought his hand back around. When the ringing in his ears stopped, the sounds of more distant explosions echoed throughout the city. This was a coordinated bomb attack…
Angry and without care, he wiped his hand on his coat before pulling out his phone and making a call to Mack Morgan. He spoke immediately as the detective answered.
“Talk to me.”
The detective fiercely coughed before speaking. “They just took out the precinct in The Glades. Other areas in the city have been hit too. You might want to get in front of a TV, hoss. They’re speaking.”
“Who?!”
“The guys who just did this.”
Darrius Jenkins stood front and center in the crowd of protestors, but unlike them, he was not cheering or shouting. He remained silent and downtrodden, disgusted with the turn of events that he’d just been an accomplice to. He watched as multiple large Humvees with mounted machine guns drove past. Two of them stopped at the intersection in front of him. Every road leading out of The Glades and to the rest of the city, bar one, were being blocked off, barricaded by metal-reinforced cement blocks as Humvees stationed themselves at the blockades as guards.
One man stepped out of the Humvee directly in front of Jenkins. Heavily armoured, masked and brandishing a light machine gun, he climbed atop the van and began addressing the crowd and nearby news reporters.
“Eleven years ago, my father rained terror down on this city,” said Grant Wilson, “He was short-sighted and foolish. He came here as a conqueror, but today, I am here as a liberator. To free the people of The Glades from the tyranny of the corrupt. No longer will you all be belittled! No longer will you all be oppressed and persecuted!”
His exclamations were met with vehement cheers from the crowd.
“From today, you will be free! Today’s bombings were merely a warning. There are hundreds of more explosives planted throughout the city, and at the first sign of interference from your heroes, at the first sign of the National Guard or the army, the rest of the city will be levelled.”
Grant unclipped a secondary Deathstroke mask from his waist. Differing from his, it was grey on both sides. His nearby men began distributing similar masks amongst the crowd whilst he held his up.
“For years, this mask has been a symbol of fear and torment, but not anymore. From now on, this mask will be a symbol of your freedom. From now on, The Glades will belong to the people! It will belong… to the Deathstrokes.”
Having spotted the dismayed Jenkins below him, he leapt down from the Humvee to confront him.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Not like this,” replied Jenkins.
“Unfortunately, no true revolution is without bloodshed,” replied Grant, as he handed Jenkins the mask.
Jenkins held it in his hands for several seconds, gazing at it. This is what he wanted, and even though he didn’t want it this way, he’d gotten it nonetheless. There was no going back now, so he placed the mask over his face.
Several hours had passed since The Glades had fallen under the control of the Deathstrokes. More extensive research from Oliver brought him to the conclusion that Grant’s humanitarian ventures were completely fabricated, merely covers to allow for him to rendezvous with Joe Wilson and the Jackals.
After watching Grant’s speech for the umpteenth time, Oliver was finally joined by Mia and Diggle in the secondary lair underneath Queen Industries.
“Don’t say it,” said Diggle immediately, but Oliver couldn’t resist.
“Told you so,” he said, before looking at Mia, “You said you confirmed that Grant Wilson was still in Canberra.”
“I did. His credit card showed purchases and there was footage of him at a grocery store,” she replied.
“Well, clearly it was doctored. Now, The Glades is under his and Joe’s control,” growled Oliver.
“What’s the sitrep?” asked Diggle.
“From what I can see, over a hundred men patrolling the streets, armed with military-grade equipment,” replied Oliver, continuing to look at the remaining CCTV feeds. “They’re taking out cameras by the minute. By tomorrow, we’re going to have to rely on satellite feeds. Police stuck in the area are being hunted down, luckily Morgan and Smith got out safely. Every road leading into The Glades is barricaded and under constant armed watch. Snipers are stationed on various rooftops throughout the area.”
“I’m sure The Flash and Supergirl could wrap this all up in a minute,” Mia interjected.
“Did you not hear what Grant said? He’ll trigger the rest of the bombs if they interfere.”
“He probably has them wired to a relay device, so we find the relay and task them with disabling it. Simple.”
“It can’t be that simple. It’s never that simple with a Deathstroke,” replied Oliver, becoming slightly annoyed by Mia’s simplistic outlook. “There’s deception written all over this.”
“Oliver, as much as I agree, it’s our only play right now,” replied Diggle.
Oliver pondered more, concluding that Diggle was right. “Alright. We try to locate the relay device, but we don’t make any moves until we do.”
Notes:
Sorry, I know this update is a bit late and not on schedule. I've been holding off writing for a while because I've had to allocate all of my time to studying for my upcoming exams. It might be another two weeks before you see the next chapter, but by then I'll be done with exams and we'll be back to the regular weekly schedule. :)
Chapter 15
Summary:
Oliver is captured by Grant Wilson, but makes an impossible escape with the help of an old friend.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
[DEATHSTROKE OCCUPATION OF THE GLADES - DAY FOUR]
The Deathstrokes’ occupation of The Glades brought back painful memories for Cindy Simone, or as she preferred to go by, Sin. As if Cobalt hadn’t reminded her of what life was like before Oliver Queen became the mayor, now Grant Wilson was reminding her of what it was like when Brick ruled over The Glades – Pure anarchy and lawlessness. Many were enjoying it. Criminals and gangsters made up the majority of those reveling in the disorder, but also ordinary people who Sin had once personally known. Old friends who she thought had left their vices behind as well as acquaintances who had embraced their dark side, both enabling the unrest.
It was only getting worse for the innocent civilians trapped in The Glades and any attempt of a rebellion would be futile. Even the gangs were hopelessly outgunned against the small army of Deathstrokes, but they had no interest anyway in fighting against those who had given them free rein. As expected, there had been little to no help from the outside world, not with the bomb threat looming large.
The shelves at the bar she now ran were being emptied without pay. Luckily, she and her girlfriend, Dee, had enough savings as well as a wealthy friend to help keep food on their table.
She and Dee met each other in 2018, right around the same time that Sin discovered that Roy Harper was still alive. It all happened so fast that night: The red-hooded man running up on her in an alley, prompting her to pull out a knife which he swiftly kicked out of her hands before pulling his hood off.
“Dammit Sin, relax!”
“Roy? Roy?! Abercrombie!”
“Shh, shh, keep it down.”
“Holy shit, you’re alive!”
She squealed in excitement, pulling him in for a tight hug.
Following his long-winded explanation of faking his death to allow The Arrow to continue as the Green Arrow, he also explained why he’d returned to Star City: Thea’s paralysis. The three of them soon reconnected, now no longer frivolous youths but matured adults. The bonds of their friendship from years prior was still strong, leading to Sin being at Thea and Roy’s wedding. She dressed sharply for the occasion with an expensive suit that Oliver Queen had been kind enough to buy her.
Roy never outright told her that Oliver was The Arrow and the Green Arrow, but she connected the dots after a while. It remained an unspoken truth between them, and now, as the situation in The Glades worsened, she’d been Oliver’s eyes and ears on the ground, providing him with intel over the phone.
If he was spotted and caught in The Glades, that would mean his sure death, regardless of whether it was as himself or the Green Arrow. Despite that, he insisted on meeting her in person tonight, sneaking into The Glades and disguising his face with a Deathstroke mask as he stealthily made his way to her bar.
The door to her bar’s backroom office opened. On edge and vigilant, her hand reached for the pistol strapped under her desk. Oliver quickly removed the Deathstroke mask, putting her at ease.
“Sorry,” he apologised immediately, “What’s the latest?”
“The Deathstrokes are still doing as they please, killing anyone that gets in their way,” replied Sin, “The Culebras and Los Halcones are working with them now, bolstering their numbers. Why did you want to see me in person today?”
“Because I’m getting you out of here,” replied Oliver, surprising her.
“What? There’s no way that I’m leaving my bar and Dee behind,” she replied sternly.
“I have a plan to get her out too. It’s not safe for you to stay here.”
“You need someone here on the ground to keep you updated.”
“There are others that can do that for me. This is not up for discussion, Sin. We’re leaving now.”
She conceded that Oliver had her best interests in mind, grabbing her pistol before standing up.
Just as they began to walk to the exit, several Deathstrokes burst in. Leading them was Grant Wilson. Sin tried to raise her pistol, but Oliver quickly pushed her hand down.
“Oh, put that thing down before you hurt yourself, miss,” Grant mocked her before looking at Oliver, “Oliver Queen… It’s time that you pay for your crimes against the people of The Glades.”
“What crimes?” asked Oliver.
“For the parts that you played in The Undertaking and the Siege,” he replied.
“You don’t give a damn about the people of The Glades, so stop pretending that you do,” Oliver snarled.
“Though that may be true, you still owe my brother and I a debt,” he said, before swiftly pulling out his pistol and firing a bullet into Oliver’s left shoulder. Oliver dropped to a knee from the impact before two other Deathstrokes rushed towards him, putting his hands behind his back and restraining him.
“Oliver,” called out Sin.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. He turned his head just before being shoved out of the bar, seeing that the Deathstrokes weren’t bothering with her. He let out a sigh of relief knowing that she was safe, but his fate was still to be decided.
Whatever it was, it would involve more excruciating pain. He was sure of that much. He was either going to be tortured or executed. Judging from where they were taking him, it looked like it was going to be the latter. A modest crowd gathered around a large intersection, where a lone table sat atop a platform in the center. Several burning torches and cars were scattered throughout the area too. Oliver was shoved onto the table face first, being held down while Joe Wilson stood over him with a katana in hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, here we have Oliver Queen!” exclaimed Grant, speaking to the crowd, “For years, he and his family have terrorised you. They were responsible for the two worst terror attacks in the history of The Glades. First, The Undertaking, and then The Siege. He and his family have indulged in their luxurious wealth while you were all left here to suffer. So what sentence does he deserve? Death?”
The crowd of criminals and rioters rambunctiously cheered.
“Death, it is!”
Before Joe Wilson was to carry out Oliver’s sentence, he stepped forward and leaned closer to Oliver. “How’s your son?”
The mention of William spurred a renewed fight in Oliver, but it was in vain. With his arm hurt, he hadn’t the strength to break the grip of the mercenary holding him down.
Joe continued to taunt him. “What was his name again? William… Once I’m done here, I’m going to pay him a visit.”
Oliver continued to tense and wiggle in vain. His will to live at this moment was far greater than his desire to keep his secret. Joe stepped back, raising the blade before bringing it down.
The milliseconds it took to creep closer to Oliver’s neck felt like minutes. Oliver’s hope that someone would swoop in and save him never wavered, not even when the blade was mere centimeters away from his neck.
Unlike his attempts to fight back, his hope proved not to be in vain.
By some sheer miracle, the blade didn’t slice through his neck.
Instead, a large bang emanated through the surrounding area, loud enough to silence the jeering crowd. A gunshot. The bullet that had been fired knocked the katana out of Joe’s hands.
“Let him go!”
The man who had pulled the trigger spoke, and Oliver couldn’t help but grin as he recognised the voice immediately.
Grant and Joe both whipped their heads to a nearby low rooftop, spotting a stocky man atop it. He was wearing a Deathstroke suit sans the mask. Only a couple of his facial features could be clearly made out, but the thick beard and eyepatch were enough to signal who it really was. His gruff, powerful voice boomed.
“Let him go!”
Slade Wilson kept his assault rifle trained on Grant, anticipating that he would quickly draw his katana too and attempt to kill Oliver. He kept his peripheral vision focused on the other nearby Deathstrokes, ready to fire upon them too if they made a move.
“Father?!” exclaimed Joe.
“Don’t call me that!” growled Slade, “With what you’re doing, you’re not my son. Neither of you are!”
“Oh, I think we fit the bill pretty well,” retorted Grant, “I’m going to give you one chance, old man. Join us, or we’ll cut your head off as well.”
“You can die trying."
Grant scoffed, wondering why he had even bothered offering. He turning to his nearby men, giving them a simple command. “Kill him!”
Slade swiftly shot the man holding Oliver down before taking aim at the several others, putting them down before they had the chance to fire at him. A stray bullet hit his armoured suit, the impact not even budging him. He leapt down from the rooftop, drawing his katana and slicing through the few in the crowd that were dumb enough to charge at him.
With the man holding him down now dead, Oliver sprung up, immediately knocking Joe down with a powerful punch. He turned just in time to duck under the swing of Grant’s katana and trip him with a leg sweep. He threw two quick punches at his head, but Grant returned with one right to Oliver’s wounded shoulder. Oliver groan from the pain was cut short when he was punched again, being knocked onto his back from the strike.
His katana in hand, Grant now raised it and attempted to bring it down through Oliver’s chest.
But once again, the katana was shot away by a bullet from Slade. Grant turned to face his father, who was now making his way to the stairs up to the platform. The majority of the crowd had dispersed, with several dead bodies and stray limbs now occupying the area where they once were.
Before Grant had a chance to throw a punch, Slade sent two bullets into his chest.
The most heavily armoured part of the suit, he knew that they weren’t going to kill him, but it gave Slade enough time to whip a kick into Grant’s abdomen. The power of the strike sent him stumbling back and threw him off the platform. Joe hadn’t a chance to fully recover from the clean punch that Oliver landed on him, as he was dazed once again by a kick from Slade. With his sons now out of the equation, he paced over to Oliver.
“Come on, kid!” he said, grabbing Oliver’s arm and helping him to his feet, “More are on the way!” he said, reloading his rifle.
Oliver followed Slade’s lead in sprinting away from the platform towards an idle Humvee. The Deathstroke who had been manning the mounted gun atop it lay slumped over, no doubt having been shot by Slade.
“Take the wheel!” Slade commanded as he jumped in the backseat, pulling the dead Deathstroke out and manning the machine gun.
Leaning on his past experiences of taking his father’s sports cars out for high-octane spins, Oliver managed to deftly weave through the chaos of the scene and get them out onto open roads. It proved difficult, however, as he only had the use of only one arm and commandeering a Humvee was much different from a Maserati.
Getting out of The Glades in one piece was not going to be easy or without adversity. With Deathstrokes roaming the streets, the drive went smooth only for a few seconds before it turned ugly. With the machine gun, Slade mowed down the Deathstrokes that crossed their path and tried to stop them. The armoured Humvee was not penetrated by the low caliber bullets of assault rifle fire, the real problem proved to be that of the other Humvees that were soon on their tail. They traded fire and for the first two that they came across, luck was on their side as Slade managed to take them out. That luck only lasted so long.
Slade initially thought he did well in shooting down the third Humvee. He’d shot both the driver and the gun operator, but a sudden swerve nearly launched out of the vehicle. Oliver couldn’t keep control of the Humvee any longer. A back tire had been shot out. He had no choice but to bring the vehicle to a halt before it crashed into a building. He swore, ramming his fist into the steering wheel before he and Slade jumped out. A fourth Humvee appeared, which Slade disposed of with another grenade.
The warzone that they’d left in their path had been all in vain. The roadblock that they’d been heading to was too far away. In every direction they went, at every corner they turned, they knew that there was just going to be more and more Deathstrokes ready to meet them. They weren’t going to make it there alive on foot, but they sure as hell were going to die trying. Slade handed Oliver his sidearm before they began the sprint.
They couldn’t even make it 50 yards before running into another group of Deathstrokes. They opened fire first, initially gaining the upper hand in the firefight before Slade fired a grenade to thoroughly dispose of them. A roaring engine sounded behind them and they whipped around to see another vehicle hauling towards them. Although this one wasn’t a Humvee, Slade raised his rifle once again.
Having narrowed his vision, Oliver was able to discern the driver just in time to push Slade’s rifle down. “No, not her!” he said.
The car screeched to a stop next to them. “Get in!” Sin screamed.
She didn’t have to ask twice as Oliver leapt in the back while Slade leapt in the front. She sped away at full throttle.
“Sin, the 15th Avenue roadblock, it’s the closest,” Oliver said before then speaking to Slade, “Got any more grenades?”
“Plenty,” replied Slade, placing another in the M203.
Luckily for them, they didn’t pass any more patrol vehicles on the way to the nearest roadblock. Sin let Slade know immediately when they were about to lay eyes on it.
“It’ll be right ahead of us as soon as I make this left turn,” she said. Slade readied himself, opening the window and sticking himself out. “Now!” exclaimed Sin, drifting into the turn at full speed.
He spotted the two stationed Humvees and roadblock instantly, firing the second he laid his eyes on them. The first explosion destroyed the vehicles, taking out the men stationed there. A grenade in hand already, he quickly reloaded and fired again, aiming for the metal-reinforced cement blocks.
The first grenade didn’t do enough to clear the path for them.
“Shit!” exclaimed Slade, frantically reaching for another grenade. They were 50 meters away, but with the speed that Sin was moving at, he would be lucky to get in two more shots.
He fired again, but it was still not enough.
“Come on, dammit!”
Mere meters away from the blocks, Slade reloaded and managed to fire for the third and the last time. Anticipating the vehicle to come to an abrupt and violent stop, he was relieved when it cruised through, only taking a few bumps when it went over the debris of the blocks. Letting out a deep breath, he shimmied back into the car.
After waiting a few moments for them all to catch a breath, he turned to Sin and held up a hand. “Slade,” he said, introducing himself.
“Sin,” she replied, quickly shaking his hand before turning her attention back to the road. “Where to?” she asked of Oliver.
“Just head to The Queen Industries building for now, I’ll direct you to the bunker when we get closer,” he replied, groaning as he pressed harder on his bullet wound to stifle the bleeding, “Good to see you again, Slade.”
“Good to see you too, kid,” replied Slade with a smile, “Good to see you too.”
Notes:
Slade Wilson returns!
I know I've been hyping his return for weeks and it's finally here! With it, we pretty much enter the final act of the story. Slade will help Oliver and co take down the Deathstroke brothers. As I said right at the beginning of the story, I feel like his arc wasn't properly and appropriately closed in the show and that is something which I am planning on doing in this story. Stay tuned!
Chapter 16
Summary:
Oliver and Slade catch up after seven years.
Chapter Text
“What have you been doing the past seven years?” asked Oliver. He was the only one that reacted to Slade’s arrival with surprise as Mia and Diggle were already aware of him being in the city. Slade explained as Oliver patched the wound on his left shoulder.
“I continued searching for my sons. I found Grant eventually, but like Joe, he wanted nothing to do with me. And while ARGUS doesn’t have me designated as a threat anymore, many others still do, so I’ve been in hiding in Markovia. It took me a while to catch wind of what was happening here, but I came over as soon as I did,” he said, “Once I hit the city, I contacted John Diggle and he told me where you were in The Glades.”
“How’d you know that I was in trouble?” Oliver asked.
“I didn’t. I just wanted to make sure that you got out of there alive,” he replied, “You could have used me back when Zugravescu had you on that pier,” Slade joked.
Oliver grimaced. “Yeah, let’s not go there.”
“How did you survive that?”
“Supergirl pulled me out of the water.”
“Ah,” replied Slade, nodding. Just then, a breach opened up in the lair and a livid Kara leapt through, pacing over to Oliver without much care to hide her anger. Slade seemed invisible to her, his presence not even being acknowledged as she scolded Oliver.
“When are you going to learn that you don’t need to do everything by yourself?!” she exclaimed. How she knew what had just happened to Oliver was a mystery to him and he decided not to inquire further on that matter right now.
“I wasn’t ‘Green Arrow’-ing, I was there to sneak Sin out. Thea and Roy’s friend, remember her from the wedding?” he replied. “You know, I’m not stupid enough to just go into The Glades without reason like that.”
“Well, for someone who isn’t stupid, you do an awful lot of stupid things,” she replied. As much as there was anger in her voice, it was rife with an even greater amount of care, something which immediately intrigued Slade.
“I’m fine. I always will be.”.
“I hope so, because if you keep this up, I’m eventually just going to kill you myself.”
Kara finally seemed to take note that Slade was standing right next to them, turning towards him and putting on a friendly smile.
“Sorry, my boyfriend is just an idiot,” she said before sticking a hand out, “Kara Danvers. Nice to meet you, Slade.”
“Likewise,” replied Slade, reciprocating her friendly smile.
“Damn… Supergirl meets Deathstroke,” said Mia in the background, immediately causing Slade’s lone eye to widen.
“You’re Supergirl?” he asked. Kara nodded. “And you and Oliver are… you’re like…”
“Yes, yes, we are,” said Oliver.
“Hey,” interjected Sin, approaching them, “I just got off the phone with Dee. She’s hunkered up in our apartment. Any chance we can we get her out of The Glades too?”
“I’ll get her,” replied Kara.
“Take her and Sin to the Hilton. Book them a room to stay for the time being,” said Oliver. Sin moved to speak, but Oliver already had an answer prepared for the concern on her mind, “I’ll cover the costs. Don’t worry about it.”
Grateful, Sin thanked Oliver before moving away with Kara, explaining to her exactly where their apartment was. As soon as they were out of earshot, Slade leaned closer to Oliver and lowered his voice.
“I’m starting to think you have a thing for blondes, kid.”
Oliver cracked a smile. “I’d be more careful if I were you. She has super-hearing.”
“Duly noted. How’s William?”
“He’s doing great, studying at Caltech. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering to see if your son turned out better than any of mine,” replied Slade, sighing, “Hell, he’s better than the both of them combined.”
“They’re not this way because of you.”
“I think we both know that’s not true. The thing about parenthood that most don’t realise is that your children don’t become who you want them to be… They become who you are. They became Deathstrokes.”
“I only learned just recently to accept that you can’t change the past, but also that that doesn’t take your power to shape the future. Joe and Grant need to be stopped, and we’re going to need all the help that we can get. You can atone by helping us take them down. Are you willing to do that?”
“If I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t be here right now, kid,” he replied with a smirk.
They both moved to the platform in the center of the lair, joining Diggle and Mia by the monitors.
“Please don’t tell me that you’ve lost track of them,” said Oliver.
“Sorry, bud,” replied Mia, “They’re good at hiding.”
“What’s the deal with the bombs?” asked Slade, “Surely they’re all connected via a relay device.”
“Yes, but we haven’t had much luck locating it,” replied Diggle.
“We find the relay, we can shut them down and then take The Glades back,” said Oliver, but Slade shook his head.
“I don’t think it’s that simple, kid,” he said, echoing a similar sentiment to that of Oliver’s a few days ago, “I think that the relay might be a bait and switch. Hell, this whole situation might be a bait and switch.”
“What makes you so sure?” asked Mia.
“Because I know how they think. They’re my sons, but more importantly, they’re Deathstrokes. Deceive and distract, common tactic.”
“If the relay is the bait, then what’s the switch?” asked Oliver.
“Have any of you considered the possibility that Grant and Joe don’t just want to rule a small portion of a city?”
“Yes, which is why we need to take them out as soon as possible,” replied Oliver.
“But what if that’s exactly what they want you to do? What if they want you to make a move, to focus your entire effort on ousting them out of The Glades and therefore leaving the rest of the city vulnerable for an attack?”
“That’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?” interjected Diggle, “I doubt they’d have enough firepower for that, and even if they did, it still wouldn’t be enough to take care of Supergirl and The Flash.”
Mia concurred. “Yeah, if they’re as smart as you think they are, they they’d know that the Green Arrow will call in some super-powered backup as soon as they make a move like that. And I doubt that they have weapons or anything of the sort that could handle Barry and Kara.”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it past them. Something about them hunkering up in The Glades just doesn’t sit right with me. They have to have something bigger planned.”
“Look, the relay is our only lead right now,” replied Oliver, “We can keep Barry or Kara on standby in the event that Slade is right, but until then, we focus on the relay. Going after it is our only move.”
Having returned to their hideout at Water Street, both Grant and Joe were livid at their father’s advent and engaged in a shouting match with each other.
“This is your fuckin’ fault!” screamed Grant, “Maybe if you didn’t want to drag this out, the whole city would be under our control by now!”
“You were never going to take the city in one night, no matter how many bombs you set off and firepower you had!” replied Joe. “Luring Supergirl and the Flash in and eliminating them first is imperative! Otherwise, we’re never going to be able to keep control of the city.”
While Grant wanted to storm the city in one night, Joe was the one who saw the opportunity to first take control of The Glades and hold the city hostage with a bomb threat. The relay device was indeed a decoy and a trap, and Joe anticipated that the Green Arrow would be aware of that possibility and send Supergirl and the Flash after it. Once they were lured in by it and taken out by the meta-mercenaries, the city would be attacked on two fronts, forcing the SCPD and heroes to spread themselves thin which in turn would lead to them being picked off easily.
“For how long must we wait then?” asked Grant, “It’s nearly been a week and they still haven’t found the relay!”
“You’re still that same impatient cunt of a kid, aren’t you?” replied Joe, mocking him.
“Except now I’m big enough to kick your arse,” growled Grant, not tolerating Joe’s patronizing tone. “I’m not a teenager anymore.”
“Then you bloody better stop acting like one! Fighting like this is going to get us nowhere. Let’s stay focused and keep our men in the city on edge. It’s not going to be long before relay device lures them in, then the city is ours for the taking.”
“What do we do about our father?” asked Grant. He received a dastardly cold answer from his brother.
“What you said earlier… we cut his head off.”
Chapter 17
Summary:
The team locate the relay device, but fall right into the traps set out for them.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
[DEATHSTROKE OCCUPATION OF THE GLADES – DAY SIX]
With The Glades under occupation for close to a week now, Mia had finally located the relay device. It was underground in the pipelines of The Glades and heavily guarded by platoons of men. Oliver stood with Slade, Diggle, Barry and Kara on the platform behind the computers in the lair.
"The entrances to the pipelines are heavily guarded," said Mia, looking at the areas through live satellite feeds, "Shouldn't be a problem for you though," she said, spinning to face Barry.
"Second time in two months that I have to disarm a device for you, huh?" joked Barry, speaking to Oliver.
"You say that like I'm the one that put it there," replied Oliver, "I'll contact Smith, tell him to start mobilising the SCPD."
The plan was to take back The Glades by force once the relay was disarmed. Barry and Kara would easily take out the entirety of the Deathstrokes in seconds, the SCPD would then simply roll back into The Glades to take back full control of the area.
As Oliver walked away from the platform, he passed by Slade, who he noted was very reserved and deep in thought. He was second-guessing the plan.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Something's not right here, kid. This seems too easy," he replied, unable to shake the overwhelming sense of dread that he was feeling.
"I know, but it's our only shot. Lives are being lost every minute and we have to stop them."
"Grant broke Joe out with the help of metas. Who's to say he doesn't have more waiting in the wings for Allen?"
"What do you suggest we do then?"
"We back him up."
As amusing as it seemed that Barry would need backup from them, Oliver trusted Slade's gut and intuition. Preparing for the worst-case scenario was essential to staying alive, so he agreed to Slade's plan.
Barry remained undetected as he zipped past the guards stationed by the maintenance building that led into the pipeline, phasing into the building. While more Deathstrokes were patrolling the various passages of the pipeline, they all suddenly found themselves unconscious within seconds as Barry knocked them out while speeding to the relay.
He found the room in which it was stationed but unknowingly triggered a silent proximity detector alarm as he walked towards it.
"Looks like an intervalometer," said Barry, taking a closer look, "Should be easy enough to disarm."
The proximity detector's activation prompted Joe and Grant to access the micro-camera installed in the room where the relay was being hidden.
"Allen, Wasserman, you're up," said Grant, speaking into his comms device, "Flash has taken the bait. He's found the relay, but Supergirl is still nowhere to be seen."
"Plan B will draw her out," replied Joe, "Serizawa, do it."
Oliver and Slade were stationed on a rooftop near the entrance to the pipelines, having discreetly taken down the sniper that was stationed there.
"Do you know how many islands there are in the North China Sea?" Oliver said, "35. 35 islands, and somehow, we ended up stranded on the same one. And it has all led to this."
"Are you implying that it was somehow fate or destiny?" Slade asked, sneering at Oliver's insinuation.
"Feels like it."
Slade scoffed in dismissal. "Fate and destiny are the romanticized notions of extraordinary circumstantial coincidence."
"Probably, but I don't think I was ever meant to live an ordinary life, I'm sure of that much."
"Back then, maybe not. But you have the luxury of a life outside of this one, and I hope that you eventually choose that one over this."
"What about you? What are you going to do after tonight?"
Slade took a moment to ponder the best answer to give… "I don't know."
The vague uncertainty of his answer was far from the truth. He didn't possess any of the luxuries that Oliver did. He didn't have a family, a loving partner or any semblance of a normal life for him. He joined ASIS at the age of 21 and that life had become all that he'd known for the past 34 years. He'd lived by the sword and that only meant one thing – He would die by it.
Despite the plan running smoothly so far, they were all still aware of the possibility that things could change in an instant. Tension amongst the team was still on a high, so when half of the lights in the city began flickering, turning the metropolis into an epilepsy-inducing light show, their unanimous distress was driven to a greater high.
"Mia, what the hell is going on?" Oliver asked.
"Something is drawing power from the grid," she replied, typing several commands into her programs in an attempt to locate the source of the disturbance, "If it keeps going, the entire city might black out."
"Locate the source."
"Beckett Power Station," she said immediately as the prompt popped up on the screen.
"I'll check it out," said Kara, hastily heading for the exit.
It took Kara no less than a minute to reach the power station and locate the source of the interference – Hiroyuki Serizawa. He stood in front of a transformer, siphoning all the electrical power from the grid. Large sparks of electricity flared in the area, some even bright enough to force Kara to cover her eyes.
"Guys, it's a meta. He's siphoning power from the grid," she said. Remembering how Livewire absorbed the power of her heat vision during their first encounter, Kara realised that she would have to engage Serizawa directly if she were to stop him, and flew towards him.
With his body conducting unfathomable amounts of electricity, Kara could not escape unscathed as she punched him in the chest. The initial shock that she felt upon making contact with his body was as great as she had ever felt and in the seconds that followed, her right hand began to numb.
Serizawa rose to his feet shortly after, massaging his aching chest before bowing disingenuously as he greeted Kara. "Pleasure to meet you, Supergirl."
"Why are you working with the Deathstrokes?" she asked.
"Same reason as her."
With her senses having been dulled by the electric shock, Kara hadn't heard Valentina Quiñones readying to strike behind her. She couldn't turn around fast enough before a large metal pole whipped into her skull. The strength and speed at which it was swung coupled with Kara's own bodily density resulted in the pole shattering in half as soon as it made contact, the blow dazing Kara and sending her to the floor.
Before she could get up and fight, she was hit by another piercing electrical shock, this one far greater than the first. Serizawa channelled every ounce of power in his body towards the floored Kara, immobilising her. As if the pain wasn't bad enough, Kara could feel the excess of electric power flooding her nerve pathways, pushing too many neutrons along and causing her body to malfunction.
Just as Barry had begun to take apart the relay device, he heard movement behind them. He spun around to see a man and a woman, both dressed casually and definitely not Deathstrokes. They seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
"Who the hell are you two?" he asked.
The woman placed her arm on the shoulder of the man, nonchalantly replying with an answer that was hardly satisfactory to Barry's question. "We're here to kill you."
"Yeah, not going to happen," replied Barry, immediately speeding over to take them out.
But at the very last millisecond, they vanished. Barry came to an abrupt stop, wondering what the hell had just happened until he heard a different, deeper voice from behind him.
"You're not as fast as they say," said the man.
"Man, I hate teleporters," quipped Barry under his breath. He sped to engage them again, but was stopped dead in his tracks when the woman had raised her hand. There was only one type of meta that Barry hated more than teleporters - Telepaths.
He was paralysed with pain immediately as an excruciating ache emerged from within his head. "Ache" couldn't cut it. If he had the presence of mind to think of a witty name for it, he would have dubbed it a "Migraine from Hell". He could literally feel his brain ripping apart inside of his skull.
"Barry? What's going on?" asked Oliver, attempting to communicate immediately as he heard he and Kara's horrifying screams on his comms device. "Kara! Kara!"
Neither of their voices replied, instead Mia did.
"Oliver, the city is being attacked!"
"By who?" asked Slade.
"More Deathstrokes! They just appeared out of nowhere, they must have been hiding in the city already!"
They looked down to the streets, now spotting battalions of Deathstrokes and Humvees speeding through the streets, making their way to the city to join the rest of their army. Usually a man of few words, Slade didn't have it within himself right now to not voice his displeasure.
"Boy, do I hate being right all the time."
"Your mind is strong," remarked Wasserman, "Most would be dead by now."
With his mind being ripped apart, Barry's agony only intensified as his body began to give up too. He didn't even have the strength to bring his hands to his head or scream anymore. He had never felt pain of this level before, at this moment not even remembering who or where he was.
If it weren't for Oliver and Slade's arrival, his mind would have been completely fractured within seconds. Oliver immediately fired an arrow into Wasserman's chest, bringing an end to her control over Barry. He fired another arrow at Allen, but it didn't make it to him before he vanished.
A second later, Oliver was knocked to the floor with a powerful punch to the back of his head. Slade spun around, throwing a punch. It only succeeded in making him lose balance, as he stumbled when his fist flew through the air.
Oliver quickly jumped to his feet.
"Teleporter," he said, already knowing what Slade was thinking before he said it.
"Back to back."
Oliver and Slade both turned, each intensely focused while awaiting the next appearance of the Allen.
He appeared again, in front of Oliver for only a split-second before he disappeared, instead striking Slade. He teleported back and forth from in front of the two men, neither of them managing to time a strike before he teleported away. It was rare for either of these two men to ever feel completely outmatched in a fight, metahuman or not. Missing every strike while absorbing plenty, it became hard for either man to keep their cool while being humiliated.
Eventually, Slade decided to stop attacking, instead focusing completely on timing the transmissions of their opponent. He withdrew his katana, sticking it out just as Allen appeared in front of him. The blade sliced right through his heart. Slade twisted the blade before pulling it out and letting Allen's body drop to the floor.
"Cunt," he remarked, licking the small amount of blood pooling by the cuts on his lips. A breach opened in front of them and Cisco jumped through after a second. A look of shock immediately formed on Cisco's face when he saw Barry, who was still curled up on the floor without moving, appearing to be in a vegetative state.
"What the hell happened to him?!" he asked.
It took Oliver another second to regain some of his wits, shaking off some of the punches he received before running over to Barry.
"He ran into a psychic," replied Oliver, "Barry. Barry!" he exclaimed, slapping him when he was unresponsive.
"Yeah?" he said, turning his head to look at Oliver before his completely bloodshot eyes widened. "Oliver Queen? You're The Arrow?" he asked, eyeing Oliver's suit.
"Yeah, now come on, we have to go," replied Oliver, pulling him to his feet, "Cisco…"
"I know, beneath the Queen Industries building," he said, opening the breach and letting the three of them step through before he opened another breach to Kara's location.
For Kara, it was either numbness or pain. Certain parts of her body had felt like they had shut down, and with the strength that she had left, rose to a knee. Although it would take a while for her to be completely overcome, Serizawa's power was endless as he continued to absorb energy from the grid. Sitting and waiting for help to arrive was not an option, but it was near impossible to think of a way to fight back while being nearly paralysed by electric shock.
In desperation, she slammed her fist into the concrete beneath her twice, shaping out a large block of rubble which she picked up and hurled in Serizawa's direction. Her intuitive counter worked to perfection, as the concrete block crashed into Serizawa and sent him to the ground. Kara immediately spun around to face Quiñones, who was already charging forward with her body loaded to throw a punch. With a grip on her cape, Kara whipped it towards Quiñones, wrapping it around her arm – The first cape technique that Mon-El had taught her.
She jerked back, pulling Quiñones and flinging her with tremendous force into a nearby transformer. Both of the metas were now laid out, but only temporarily. The obscene amount of electricity that Kara had been subject to had still weakened her and she dropped back to her knees from exhaustion.
Cisco's timely arrival a few seconds later brought some much needed relief.
"You good?" he asked, running over to her. She only nodded in reply.
"Come on, let's go," he said, helping her to her feet and aiding her in stepping through the breach back to the bunker.
Notes:
Well, Joe's traps for Barry and Kara worked. With them out of the equation, the war for Star City begins...
Chapter 18
Summary:
With The Uprising fully underway, Oliver and his allies devise a strategy to fight back against the Deathstroke Army.
Chapter Text
In having his mind ripped apart, Barry Allen’s body had failed him as a consequence. He’d lost complete motor control of his nervous system from the attack on his brain, having to literally be dragged to his feet and carried through the breach back to the bunker. He slipped into a comatose state just a few seconds later and fearing the worst, Oliver opened a breach to Earth-38 to get J’onn J’onzz to psychologically assess him.
For Kara, her body was failing her too, albeit in a much different manner. She was still lethargic and not nearly at full strength. The severe electrical trauma had overrided her neural impulses, causing her muscles to spasm and involuntarily contract. Occlusion of arteries followed due to spasms and blood clots from damaged tissue. Compared to Barry, she had gotten off relatively easy, but their differing injuries yielded the same dire consequence – They were out of this fight for now.
“He ran into one hell of a psychic,” said J’onn, seated opposite an unconscious Barry. He and Kara were lying down on medical beds, the latter being basked in the glow of a yellow sun lamp to aid with her recovery.
Quentin was safe from the war in his suburban residence far outside city limits, while Roy had brought Thea, Liam and Raisa to the safety of the lair.
“Is the damage permanent?” asked Oliver.
“No, fortunately not,” replied J’onn to everybody’s relief, “I can restore his memories, but it’s going to take some time for him to fully regain his bearings.”
“How long?”
“It’s hard to say, but anywhere between thirty minutes to an hour. He’s out of the fight for now.”
“It’s okay, you have me,” interjected Kara, attempting to get up much to the dismay of her ailing body.
J’onn quickly pushed her back down. “No. You’re not strong enough yet.”
She insisted. “I still have my powers, I can fight.”
Oliver joined J’onn in keeping her seated with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “No. The electric did this to you when you were at full strength. You go out there like this, it’ll be a whole lot worse.”
“He caught me off-guard and I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
“That’s not the point, Kara. Just stay put for now… please.”
Reluctantly, Kara heeded their request, laying back down.
Oliver turned to speak to Mia at the computers, “What’s it like out there?”
“SCPD are getting torn up,” replied Mia solemnly, “They’re fighting a war on two fronts and they’re outgunned by a mile.”
“How far are ARGUS reinforcements?”
“They’ll be here within the next few minutes, but without Barry and Kara, we don’t have a very good chance of reclaiming the city,” replied Mia.
Each and every second was unexplainably precious. A second wasted meant another life lost and more control gained for the Deathstrokes, and although going out there right now was a suicide mission, it was the only option that Oliver had.
“We can’t just sit around and waste time waiting for them to recover,” he said.
“So, we don’t. We join the fight when ARGUS gets here,” said Roy, stepping forward.
“What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Oliver. It was hardly a question and more a proclamation of disapproval at what Roy was suggesting.
“I don’t care how dangerous it is, I’m not sitting out of this one.”
“Neither am I,” John Diggle stepped forward as well. “This is our crusade as much as it is yours, Oliver. We couldn’t help with Azrael, but we’re here now and we’ll be damned if we sit idle while Star City is pillaged.”
As much as Oliver wanted to argue, he hadn’t the time nor the resolve to. They were right. This was their fight too, so he simply nodded, accepting their help.
The doors of the elevator suddenly opened, causing all of them to tense. For a split second, they worried that the Deathstrokes had discovered their location and converged on them, but the worry quickly disappeared and was instead replaced with pleasant surprise.
It was the Legends who had arrived – Sara Lance, Ava Sharpe, Nate Heywood, Ray Palmer, Mick Rory, Zari Tomaz and John Constantine.
“Sorry for being late,” said Nate immediately.
“How can you have a time-travelling spaceship and arrive late?” Diggle quipped.
“It’s complicated,” replied Sara. She stepped onto the main platform, momentarily stopping in her tracks as she came face to face with Slade Wilson for the first time in over a decade. They locked eyes and it didn’t take Sara long to realise that the interaction was even more uncomfortable for him. The Mirakuru had long since worn off and he was now here as an ally.
“Slade,” she offered as a cordial greeting.
“Sara,” he replied.
“How did you know we needed help?” Oliver asked her.
Ray Palmer tilted his head, remembering their visit to the Star City 2046 timeline eight years prior. “It’s a long story,” he replied.
Sara offered an incomplete explanation. “The Uprising was originally supposed to take place in 2031, but with the changes to the timeline, it happens now. Star City is lost without the Legends’ help. Where’s my dad?”
“He’s outside of the city. He’s safe,” replied Oliver reassuringly. Just then, Mia’s phone began ringing, turning out to be a call from the very person that had just been brought up. She answered and placed it on speakerphone.
“Mr Lance?”
“I just found out Grant and Joe Wilson’s whereabouts. They’re at Water Street.”
“How did you find that out?”
“Darrius Jenkins appears to have had a change of heart.”
Darrius Jenkins gave little resistance to the Deathstrokes that dragged him to the rooftop of a building on Water Street. He thought he had been discreet about contacting Quentin, but evidently, he’d been sussed out. From the moment that he was ambushed and captured, he knew that he was going to die soon. Like most people, he feared death, but knowing that he would go out having done the right thing gave him some sort of peace of mind. He was thrown in front of Grant Wilson, who eyed him down without a hint of remorse in his eyes.
“Did you really think that we didn’t have any contingencies in place?” Wilson asked, “That we weren’t watching your every move, listening to every call you made and reading every text you sent in the event that you did something stupid?”
“You betrayed us,” spat Jenkins, “It was never about the people of The Glades. It was never about atoning for your father’s sins.”
“It’s not my fault that you were stupid enough to believe that,” replied Grant, brandishing his katana, “Goodbye, Mr Jenkins,” he said coldly, before thrusting the blade into Jenkins’ abdomen.
“You sure about this?” asked Oliver, holding up the left arm exo-brace that Star Labs had manufactured.
“Yeah,” replied Diggle, hiding the uncertainty from his voice. He removed the sling from his shoulder, raising his left arm as high as he could to allow Oliver to place the exo-brace around it. Oliver began counting down.
“Three, two, one.”
He pressed the activation button, watching as the skeleton tightened and conformed to the structure of Diggle’s arm. Diggle groaned in agony as it did so. When the pain settled, he stepped away from Oliver before shaking his arm and swinging it around. He turned to the Wing Chun dummy nearby and took a swing at a wooden arm, breaking it clean off.
“Not bad,” he said approvingly, “Not bad at all.”
He walked back with Oliver to the main platform of the bunker, where they ran through the plan one more time.
“ARGUS forces have just hit the city,” Oliver began, “Remember, our priority is mitigation and containment. Keep the collateral to a minimum. Roy, Dig, Sara and Zari, you’re going to rendezvous with a squadron at Nelson Plaza. Mick, Nate and Ava, you’re going to go to Orchid Bay, the other side of the city. Ray and John, take out all the heavy artillery that you can, get those Strykers and Humvees off the streets, and Cisco, you take care of the electric. If any of you come across the other meta, neutralise her as well. Slade and I are going after Grant and Joe. Barry, Kara and J’onn will join us once they’ve recovered. Any questions?” asked Oliver.
They all shook their head, confirming that they were ready.
“Let’s go get our city back.”
Chapter 19
Summary:
A reunited Team Arrow and the Legends of Tomorrow fight back against the Deathstrokes to end the war for Star City.
Chapter Text
For Oliver, Slade, Diggle, Roy and Sara, there was a strong sense of déjà vu as they waged war on the streets of Star City. In some ways, it felt like The Siege all over again. When in the field, synergy between teammates was imperative. Every ally that had aided Oliver throughout his crusade brought something different to the table and consequently brought out different attitudes and approaches from him. As much as Oliver appreciated everyone that had fought alongside him over the years, there was just a different feeling when he fought with Slade by his side.
He couldn’t put it into words. He couldn’t explain it. But riding into battle with Slade carried an unequalled level of intensity and assurance. Perhaps it was because Slade was his first true mentor, the first man that had helped mould him into the hero that he was today. With Slade by his side, he felt as close as one could to invincible. The two of them tore through the streets, eliminating each and every soldier that attempted to stand in their way while they made their way to Water Street.
They eventually arrived at the building from where Grant and Joe were overseeing their operation with Oliver kicking down the door that led to the rooftop. The two brothers were unalarmed by their arrival. Joe spoke first as they turned around.
“Once again, you’ve chosen to abandon us,” he said, speaking to his father, “Instead of joining us, instead of reconciling with your sons, you choose to fight with him!” he screamed, pointing to the Green Arrow, “Who is he to you? Who is he to take you away from us?!”
Grant and Joe were much younger than Oliver and Slade, something which would give them certain advantages in the fight to come. However, they paled in comparison to their opponents regarding composure and experience. Oliver and Slade both knew how to control their emotions and fight sensibly. Angering the two even further would make them easier to defeat and Oliver knew exactly how to do that.
He brought a hand up to his head, flipping his hood and mask off with a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He succeeded in intensifying the brothers’ rage, watching them scoff in disbelief and tighten their grip around their katanas.
“He’s my brother,” Slade finally replied.
The four men sized their respective opponent up. Oliver against Grant, Slade against Joe. The brothers placed their masks over their faces, but their opponents didn’t, for they were not fighting as the Green Arrow and Deathstroke, but rather, as Oliver Queen and Slade Wilson.
“I’m going to cut your fucking head off,” said Grant, pointing his katana at Oliver.
Amused at the overconfidence of his adversary, Oliver couldn’t help but smirk before replying. “Go for it.”
While there was nothing enjoyable about war, Roy, Diggle and Sara all took pleasure in fighting side by side once again. Each were founding members of Team Arrow in a certain way and being in the field together again brought back fond memories of simpler times. Having taken back Nelson Plaza, they continued moving through the city with the help of ARGUS and the SCPD.
They arrived at an intersection where several officers were pinned down. They laid down fire alongside the ARGUS squadron, Diggle with an assault rifle, Roy with arrows and Sara with Rip Hunter’s energy guns. They managed to take out many of the Deathstrokes and cause the remaining few to retreat. While the others pursued, Roy ran over to the few officers taking cover behind cars. He spotted Mack Morgan amongst them, who stood up and walked over to Roy.
“Thanks,” he said before lowering his voice, “Congrats on the baby, by the way.”
Roy’s eyes widened. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re…”
“I’m a detective,” replied Morgan. Figuring that he also put it together due to him knowing about Oliver’s identity, Roy nodded before hearing Mia’s voice speak up on the comms.
“Guys, I’ve located the other meta. She’s at corner Union Row and Crown Avenue.”
“I’m en route,” replied Nate Heywood.
“So am I.”
The arrival of the Legends along with ARGUS helped level the playing field of the war, but Serizawa and Quiñones were still giving an edge to the Deathstroke army. ARGUS battalions and police squadrons had little chance to stop Serizawa, who along with his electrokinetic abilities was able to avoid any return attacks by levitating in the sky.
“I need to get this thing near him, spring it open and close it, right?” asked Cisco, brandishing the portable industrial capacitor that J’onn J’onzz had brought from Earth-38. It had originally been designed to temporarily drain Livewire of her powers, buying enough time for her to be subdued. It would likely do the same for Serizawa.
“That’s what J’onn said,” replied Mia.
Serizawa was too high off the ground for Cisco to use it right now. “Alright, time to get his attention.”
Although Serizawa could absorb electrical and thermal energy, he could not do the same for Cisco’s concussive vibrational energy blasts. He was knocked out of the air by a powerful blast from Cisco, dropping from the sky. Cisco wasted no time in opening a breach next to Serizawa and flinging the device through. He watched from a safe distance as it activated and began to suck Serizawa’s energy away.
But before he could close it, it seemed to have malfunctioned, combusting before Serizawa’s power could be completely sapped. He recovered in an instant, rising back to his feet and spinning around to face Cisco.
“Oh shit.” Cisco scrambled to open another breach for himself to escape the burst of electrical energy.
An unfortunate disadvantage of breaches were their very easily noticeable nature. Serizawa could hear the very fabric of space being distorted behind him, turning around and firing a burst of electricity at the secondary breach just as Cisco jumped through. The blast floored Cisco, but had Serizawa been at full power, he likely would have been electrocuted to death.
With much of his power drained, Serizawa raised his arms, drawing from every electrical circuit in the vicinity and preparing to channel the energy into one final blast that would end Cisco’s life. But time was of the essence.
The few seconds that he took to repower gave Cisco enough time to recover and more importantly, spot a fire hydrant on the sidewalk directly in line with Serizawa. One reverb blast was all it took to break it open, with the ensuing burst of water dowsing the electric and stripping him of his powers. He fired one more blast to incapacitate Serizawa before running over and slapping power-dampening cuffs on his wrist.
For what Grant and Joe lacked in experience and skill, they made up for it with their youth and aggression. While Oliver had anticipated this, he perhaps underestimated how big of a factor it would play in the fight. He was just a bit slower than Grant, often reacting a split-second too late to get completely out of the way of a strike. He was lucky on a couple of occasions to have not suffered a serious laceration from Katana swings.
Masterfully adept with his bow, Oliver intercepted many of Grant’s katana swipes with it. With his composure disrupted by rage, Grant left himself open for counterstrikes frequently. The small window of opportunity came for Oliver to disarm Grant of his katana and he took it. Ducking under Grant’s katana, he stepped away and snapped a short punch towards Grant’s elbow. He hit the perfect spot, damaging the ulnar nerve and causing Grant’s arm to spasm. With Grant having dropped his katana, now Oliver was able to engage in a pure fistfight.
The one thing Oliver always prided himself on was his cardiovascular endurance. In a battle of attrition, he always believed that nobody could outlast him. Until right now. Grant was keeping up with him, making Oliver wonder if his wear-and-tear and age was impeding him. He still had the upper hand, but it was playing out as a much closer fight than it should be. Viciously trading strikes back and forth, both taking and giving damage, neither man were willing to give an inch in the contest., Oliver often won the exchanges by landing with more power and yet Grant kept coming forward. His zombie-like durability and recovery kept him in the contest despite Oliver doing everything he could to eliminate him.
For Slade, his duel was much different. Still one of the best swordsman in the world, not even Joe could match up to him. Skill-wise, their fight was competitive for one reason and one reason only – Slade was holding back.
On more than one occasion did Slade have the opportunity to end the fight, to slice off a limb or deal a fatal wound to Joe. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Despite what his son had become, he was still his son. Every time he looked at him, Slade still saw the young boy that he’d raised. The young boy whose laugh always brought a smile to his face. The young boy who was a light in his darkest times. The person that he had loved the most. And right now, he still had faith in Joe.
They separated after a stalemate. They began to circle each other just like how they had done years ago, having an eerily similar conversation as they did back then.
“It’s not too late to stop this, Joe,” Slade said.
“It is!” replied Joe, “You’ve chosen Oliver Queen over us. How could you help him after all that he’s done to you?”
“Because he forgave me for what I did to him!” replied Slade. Joe charged forward, engaging Slade again.
Knowing at this point that he was only going to get through to Joe with a beating, Slade woefully began to start fighting back. He still refused to mortally wound Joe, opting to block Joe’s blade with his own before countering with punches and kicks. With a hard right hook to the head, Slade knocked Joe’s mask off his face. With a swing of his blade, he sliced open a non-lethal laceration on Joe’s left arm and rocked him with two more punches to the face. He whipped a kick into Joe’s abdomen, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to the ground.
“If he can forgive me for murdering his mother, then you can forgive me for what I’ve done to you,” said Slade, “I’ve only ever loved you. And I know that there’s still good in you.”
Joe rose to his feet, wiping his watery eyes. “I don’t think that there is.”
“You’ve been blinded by your hate, just like how I was, but it’s there, Joe. I can see it even if you can’t. You can help us end this madness.”
After a moment, Joe stepped towards Slade, but this time not to attack. “I’m sorry, father. I’m sorry.”
The two men wrapped in a tight embrace, and Slade felt watery discharges flood his eye too before they ran down his cheeks. He allowed the tears to flow, eternally grateful that he had finally reconciled with his son.
Joe let go, taking two steps back before looking over at Oliver, who was still battling with Grant. “To have forgiven you, he must possess true honour… It’s a real shame that I don’t.”
Too quick for Slade to react, he raised his katana and jolted it forward with all of his strength. The blade sliced through Slade’s heart, who was paralysed immediately from the puncture. He looked to the cold, blank eyes of his son, whose face was now void of his fake remorse. Joe twisted the blade before pulling it out slowly, allowing Slade’s body to drop to the floor.
As soon as Nate Heywood spotted Valentina Quiñones, he knew that he couldn’t waste any time waiting for Roy to arrive. A lone police officer stood helplessly in front of her, awaiting his demise as she approached him. Thinking on his feet, he turned to a parked car next to him and ripped the door off before flinging it towards her. Having arrived just in the nick of time, the door knocked her away just before she could bring her fist down on the officer.
“Hey, She-Hulk!” he called out, gathering her undivided attention, “Pick on someone your own size!”
Angered by his insult, she rose to her feet and charged towards him at full speed. Before she was even within striking distance, he could already make out her first attack. The perks of literally being made of steel allowed Nate to rely on his superpowers more than his natural fighting ability, but he was no stranger to a fistfight. Having spent years as a Legend, the countless training sessions from Sara Lance that came with it had unequivocally increased his skill at reading an opponent’s body movements.
With Quiñones’ right shoulder cocked back, he slid under the incoming overhand punch and kicked a leg out, dropping her to a knee. However, Quiñones was also a seasoned and skilled combatant. Before Nate could follow up with a punch to her head, her impeccable balance and strength enabled her to spring back to her feet as quickly as she had dropped, avoiding the strike. Having acknowledged her mistake of telegraphing her first attack, she continued the fight with more controlled combinations.
Their capabilities appeared to cancel out as they traded strikes back and forth. Nate was slightly stronger and more durable, but Quiñones was the more skilled fighter of the two. She caught him off-balance for a solitary second, taking the opportunity to grab a hold of him and fling him into a concrete wall. With no space to retreat, Nate was subject to several strikes which only pounded him further into the concrete.
Reprieve eventually came in the form of an incendiary arrow. It flew towards Quiñones, the shockwave of the small blast doing enough to jolt her away from Nate.
“Perfect timing, dude,” Nate quipped. He was silenced by one more punch from Quiñones before she set her sights on Roy.
Knowing that he could not fight her head-on, he first fired a flashbang arrow to blind her before firing a bola arrow towards her ankles, tying her legs up. She tripped and fell to the floor, buying Roy enough time to run over to Nate.
“Here.” Roy immediately handed Nate two arrows. “Jam these through her tendons.”
“I’m a historian, not a biologist.”
Seeing that Quiñones was already rising back to her feet, Roy gave the most basic explanation that he probably could. “Just target the biceps and knees.”
She may have been neck and neck with Citizen Steel, but Arsenal’s arrival had fully swung the fight out of her favour. She had only just recovered when two more flashbang arrows disoriented her again. With both her vision and hearing compromised, she swung wildly with her fists in an attempt to make any form of contact with her adversaries.
She only succeeded in handing her right arm over to Citizen Steel, who grabbed it and jammed an arrow through her bicep tendon. Another sharp pain ripped through the soleus muscle in her left calf, forcing her down on one leg. A third and final arrow penetrated the bicep tendon in her left arm, completely immobilising her.
With both of the metas now neutralised, the tide of the war to take back Star City had officially shifted.
Having heard Slade’s ghastly groan, Oliver momentarily turned to see Joe’s katana impaling his chest.
“Slade!” he screamed.
With Grant not out of the fight yet, the distraction proved costly. Oliver didn’t turn back in time to dodge the powerful punch from Joe. It hit him right on the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Dazed from the strike, he was hurt further by several vicious kicks to his abdomen. Despite that, he managed to recover from the stun of the punch, rolling out the way of a head stomp before jumping back to his feet.
Both hurt and tiring, their fight began to look much less like a technical contest and more so like a brawl. Still, it was Oliver who had more success in every exchange. For every punch he took, he gave an even more powerful one back. For every kick that flew towards him, he blocked it before throwing an even faster one in return. Having not seen Joe rush over towards him, on instinct alone did he duck the katana swing meant to decapitate him.
He kicked Grant back before grabbing Joe’s arm, contorting it at the elbow and inflicting pain that caused Joe to drop the katana. He lifted Joe and turned, tossing him to the ground with a Judo throw before picking the blade up and throwing it to the other side of the roof as a precautionary measure.
Both brothers quickly rose to their feet, now working in tandem to beat Oliver. As if fighting one of them wasn’t hard enough, he now had to deal with a multitude of strikes coming from different angles at the same time. Forced to be on the defensive, Oliver struggled to land anything significant of his own while their strikes starting to take their toll on him. The brothers fought smart, each throwing strikes that deliberately set Oliver up to be hit by the ones that the other would throw next. For whatever strike he blocked or dodged, another would be there to intercept his movements. There was no way that he could defend an entire barrage from two skilled opponents while tired and hurt himself, as strikes began to slip through his defence and beat him down.
He’d have to completely compromise himself defensively to land something powerful. It was the only way he was going to win this fight, so he took the risk. He slipped a punch from Joe, stepping forward as he did so to counter with a precise two-punch combination that knocked him to the floor.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t the speed to turn back and intercept Grant, whose boot whipped into the side of his temple. Knocked down again, another kick hit his ribs, the power behind it sending Oliver rolling away.
He got up again, only to be sent back to the gravel floor with another kick from Grant. For some reason, the onslaught didn’t continue. When he regained some of his wits and turned to look back at Grant and Joe, the sight of them slouched over and heaving for breath bolstered him. He may have been fatigued, but they were exhausted, and that told him that he was not out of this fight just yet.
He groaned as he forced himself up onto his hands and knees once again.
“Just stay down, Queen! Give up!” screamed Grant.
Oliver glanced over at Slade’s body… He was still moving. He wasn’t dead yet, and that sent another furious surge of adrenaline through his body. For an unknown, otherworldly reason, a whisper crept into Oliver’s ear, uttering a single phrase that sought to remind him of something that he already knew.
“There’s no giving up to these guys.”
So despite the debilitating agony, despite the morbid fatigue, Oliver rose to his feet once more, spitting out his scornful reply as he locked eyes with Grant.
“Never.”
For the first time in the contest, the brothers’ youth worked against them. Without his bow, their lack of experience made them believe that they were safe at a distance from Oliver, having forgotten about his array of flechettes.
Oliver withdrew one quickly and flung it towards Joe first. He couldn’t move out of the way in time, suddenly feeling a fiercely sharp pain shred through his right eye. Not long enough to penetrate through to his brain, the flechette remained embedded in his eye, causing excruciating agony and forcing him to stumble back.
Grant had luck on his side. Oliver’s next throw was millimetres off his target, allowing Grant to move his head just enough so that the flechette only grazed his temple. With Joe out of the fight for now, Grant leapt forward to engage Oliver by himself.
He was able to continue putting up a fight, managing to stun Oliver a few more times with punches. However, he was still exhausted. His previous speed and reaction time advantages were no longer factors. Now, the contest was being dictated by experience and skill, the very two things which Oliver had a mountain of. He began to technically best Grant, moving out of the way of his laboured and off-target punches.
Realising that he was going to now lose a striking battle, Grant tackled Oliver to the floor. Tussling for several seconds, Oliver eventually found the opening to clasp on to an armbar. Grant’s attempts to power out of the hold were ineffective as Oliver had it locked in. He cranked as hard as he could until he audibly heard the snap of Grant’s forearm. Grant’s screams were cut short when Oliver let go of the hold, mounting him and viciously pounding his face with combinations of punches and elbows.
He was unconscious by the second, but Oliver cared not, throwing several more to crush Grant’s face and ensure that he was no longer a threat.
He turned his attention back to Joe, who was crippled by the grotesque flames of agony incinerating his face. He noticed Oliver now walking towards him, but with his depth perception severely impaired, none of his desperate strikes came close to Oliver. A fist swung directly into his sternum, winding him and shoving air out from his lungs.
Oliver kicked him to the floor before kneeling over him. He may have considered granting mercy to the other brother, but Joe deserved none for what he had done to Slade. Oliver raised his fist as high as he could, letting out a guttural scream before bringing it down on Joe’s right eye with all of his strength, hammering the flechette into his cranial cavity and killing him instantly.
With the fight now over, Oliver took a moment to regain his breath before remembering about Slade, getting up and running over to him.
He was somehow still alive, gasping for air and coughing up blood that was now starting to pool at the bottom of his throat.
“Slade,” said Oliver, kneeling next to him, “You need help. Come on, let’s go,” he said, moving to pick him up.
He managed to reply softly, weakly raising a hand to stop Oliver. “No...”
He had already accepted his death and was now forcing Oliver to do the same. He sickeningly coughed twice more before speaking one last time.
“It was an honour, kid… Getting to fight by your side… one last time.”
“The honour was all mine.”
Slade turned to look at Oliver, forcing what seemed to be a smile. A second later after one last heavy exhale, his breaths ceased. Oliver watched as the life behind Slade’s lone eye faded away until there was nothingness staring back at him.
Oliver spotted movement in front of him, raising his head to look up at Kara hovering a few meters away. She questioned him with her gaze, and all he could do was simply shake his head in reply.
Chapter 20
Summary:
Slade Wilson's funeral is held.
Chapter Text
As soon as Kara, Barry and J’onn joined the fight, the war for Star City was over within seconds. The Deathstrokes were rounded up and handed over to ARGUS, and order had been restored for the most part. For the second time in two months, a rebuilding process was set to take place in the city. This time was likely to be slightly easier given that the damage regarded infrastructure more so than corruption throughout the entire city’s administrative levels.
An hour after the war had ended, Oliver had already decided to bury Slade. Having no other family or close friends, the funeral was attended by Oliver, his team and the Legends. With nowhere else to take him, Oliver took him to the only place which felt fitting for him to be laid to rest. He began the heartfelt eulogy now that the body was six feet under.
“From the moment that I stepped on to the shores of Lian Yu, I had this unshakable feeling that I was going to die very soon. For months, I lived each and every day thinking that it was going to be my last… until I met Slade Wilson. He was my first teacher. My first mentor. My brother. If it were not for him, I would be dead a hundred times over. He helped me become not only a hero, but a good man… So thank you, Slade. Thank you.”
He glanced at the grave next to Slade’s… the grave of Shado Gulong.
While he felt sorrow for Slade’s passing, Oliver was largely in a state of acquiescence. Slade’s story was one of tragedy. A good man driven insane, committing heinous evils against his will. Everyone he held dear had forsaken him in one way or another. Unable to conquer the residing demons of his Mirakuru rage, they haunted him until his death. In the end, his death was all that mattered, for it was the one part of his life that was not tragic. He had died as a hero.
Now buried next to Shado on the island of Lian Yu, Oliver felt a glint of contentment knowing he was reunited with her in some form.
He paid his last respects before signaling to Cisco to open the breach to send them back to Star City.
Chapter 21
Summary:
Oliver finally proposes to Kara.
Chapter Text
[14 JANUARY 2025 – 19:16]
For Kara, tonight was seeming to be just another date night. For Oliver, it was to be one of the most nerve-wracking in his life. Everything that he felt right before reconciling with Kara a few months back had resurfaced. He was meeting with Barry and Diggle in his apartment, needing their advice and guidance for his plan to propose to Kara by the end of the evening.
“What do you think?” Oliver asked as he showed them the emerald gold ring.
“Wow. That is something,” Diggle replied, marveling at the ring as he looked closer, “You didn’t meet us just to ask for an opinion on the ring, right?”
“No, I… I don’t know how to propose,” replied Oliver.
“Really?” asked Diggle. Oliver shamefully nodded.
Barry cackled. “You’re joking, right? Oliver Queen, master strategist and tactician, yet he doesn’t know how to pop the question.”
“Would you believe me if I told you that this is more daunting than facing off with a Mirakuru soldier?”
“No, but come on, man, you know how it’s done. Getting down on one knee and all that,” replied Barry.
“Yeah, but what do I say? What did you say to Lyla?” he asked, turning to Diggle.
“What did I say to Lyla?” repeated Diggle, thinking back a decade, “Wait, which time?”
“I’m assuming the time that didn’t result in a divorce after,” Barry interjected.
“Oh right, the second time. So, we were in the hospital after the whole Harkness ordeal. She woke up and I called her ‘sweetie’ because she knows that I only call her ‘sweetie’ when I want something…”
“Yeah, yeah, get to the point, Dig,” said Oliver, interrupting him.
“Well, I was getting to the point. So anyway, she asked me what I want, and I said that I want her to marry me.”
“That’s it?” Diggle nodded before Oliver asked the same question of Barry. “How did you propose to Iris?”
“Oh, I sang to her,” replied Barry. His face lit up, but Oliver immediately raised a hand to stop him from speaking further.
“I am not singing to Kara.”
“Why not? Didn’t you guys do karaoke together?” he asked.
“Once, and we don’t talk about that night,” replied Oliver sternly.
“Alright, listen,” interjected Diggle, “Don’t overthink it. Just say the first thing that pops into your mind, because that’ll be exactly how you feel about her. That’ll be enough, I promise you.”
As always, Oliver greatly appreciated Diggle’s advice.
“You’ll do great,” said Barry reassuringly, tapping Oliver on the shoulder.
“Thanks. I’ve got to get going, I don’t want to be late.”
“Good luck,” said Diggle, before immediately taking out his phone and making a call to Lyla. “Sweetie, please just have a bucket ready for me in the next few seconds… Yeah, it’s Barry again. Thanks.”
He hung up before emptying a bottle of nausea tablets into his hand and chucking them into his mouth. He turned to glare at Barry.
“What you got?!” he barked before being grabbed and sped away.
From the second that Oliver stepped through the breach to Earth-38 all until the end of the night, nothing could’ve gone better. He had taken Kara to her favourite restaurant, where he ensured that she stuffed herself with potstickers. He did his best to appear his usual calm and composed self, but he had a feeling that Kara knew that something was up. She could perceive jitters and twitches of his that were imperceptible to the untrained eye as well as how heartbeat was uncharacteristically quickening irregularly throughout the evening.
Everything over the past month had lined up perfectly for them. National City was in a state of bliss with all major threats eliminated and no more seeming to be on the horizon. Although the same couldn’t exactly be said for Star City given that it was still recovering, things had considerably calmed down and there was steady progress on all fronts in aiding the city’s redevelopment. There was never going to be a better time for him and Kara to finally do what they should have done years ago.
Her suspicions that he was planning something intensified when he suggested that they take a walk to the waterfront. She stood with him at the railing, admiring the placid water with her arm around his waist and his around her shoulders.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
“This is where we had our first kiss,” replied Oliver.
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
Oliver stepped away to turn and face her. He let out a deep breath before speaking. “Remember what I told you when we reconciled? That I didn’t want to waste any more time… Well, things are as good in our cities as they ever will be for the foreseeable future. I know we agreed to take things slow and we have, but there is no doubt in my mind that you are the woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Kara knew exactly what Oliver was about to do. She suspected it from the moment he brought her to the waterfront, but she was still stunned into silence by the fact that it was happening.
“You make me better than I deserve to be, Kara. I’ve seen what life without you is like, and I don’t want to live that way. So…” Oliver reached into the inner pocket of his coat, grabbing the ring box before taking a knee. “Kara Danvers. Kara Zor-El of Krypton. Will you marry me?”
Her silenced lingered as she continued to stare wide-eyed back at him, making Oliver worry that she was going to say no.
But she didn’t.
“Yes. Yes, I will,” she said with a content smile before leaping into his arms.
Chapter 22
Summary:
Oliver meets with Captain Smith and Detective Morgan for the final time.
Chapter Text
[4 MARCH 2025 – 20:05)
Mia Dearden squinted her eyes as she bit into her burger while Roy Harper was resorted to a sigh and shake of the head while zipping up his suit jacket.
“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” he asked, turning to face Oliver who joined them in the lair, “This is the last place you should be a week before your wedding,” Roy joked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in here the day of his wedding,” Mia grinned.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Oliver replied with a smile. Over the past two months, Oliver had understandably put vigilantism on the backburner while wedding planning, but he’d chosen to join Roy in the field for the final time tonight, “Tonight will officially be my last night in the field. Who’s the target?”
Mia replied, “ACU are conducting a raid on what we believe to be the last Scorpion stronghold.”
“Good. We’ll be there to help,” Oliver said before immediately opening the briefcase which contained his suit. Unlike countless times before, he didn’t hastily take it out and quickly dress. Instead, he took just a moment to gaze at it, appreciate it. He wasn’t sure if it was going to be the last time he would ever wear it. The doubts of whether or not he would be able to willingly give it up forever still resided and that was one of the reasons why he had chosen to go out again tonight. He was searching for not just a sign, but for a definitive answer to the question of whether or not he could truly let it go.
“Last night for real?”
Oliver’s intense thought was broken when Roy appeared next to him. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied.
“Then let’s make it a good one,” Roy replied with a grin, hitting Oliver on the shoulder to psyche him up.
It had been a wavering thought on his mind for some time, but it was only now that Oliver accepted that the answer to his question might just be the man standing next to him at this very moment…
Following the successful raid of the drug house, Oliver called for a meeting with Detective Mack Morgan and Captain Smith.
“And that appears to be it for the Burnout game in Star City,” said Morgan, as the Green Arrow approached.
In the aftermath of Ricardo Diaz and Anthony Moreno’s deaths, the continued hard crackdown on the Scorpions resulted in several other high-ranking members of the gang to be taken into custody. Now, without leadership and resources, the influx of Burnout into the city had steadily declined and the epidemic was soon to be no more.
“The supply has stopped but this is not over yet,” replied Oliver, “Now is the time to put everything into getting addicts the help that they need.”
“Of course. We’ve been keeping Mayor Lance duly updated on the situation, he’s been putting the work in already,” replied Morgan.
“So, what’s the emergency?” asked Smith, abruptly interjecting into the conversation with a tone that spoke to another matter entirely. “You called this meeting on a whim. That’s uncharacteristic of you. I assume there’s something important that we need to know.”
“There’s no emergency, but you’re right. There is something that you need to know,” replied Oliver, “Tonight was my last night.”
“Last night? As in last night as the Green Arrow?” Morgan asked.
“Yes.”
Smith and Morgan’s heads cocked head, both raising an eyebrow as they both digested the news.
“Arsenal is still going to be around to help,” Oliver continued, “But I’m going to be gone for the foreseeable future.”
“Why? What’s going on?” asked Smith. Oliver stepped closer to Smith, calling on a previous conversation of theirs to put it to him in the best possible manner.
“March 2022, there was a gala organised to raise funds for the Rene Ramirez Foundation. It was the only one that you ever attended. You had a conversation with Oliver Queen, telling him how your two greatest joys in life were marrying the woman you loved and raising your kids with her. Do you remember?”
“Yeah... How do you know about that?”
“Because I was there... And let’s just say that I’ve finally decided to do the same,” replied Oliver, flipping his hood back and taking his mask off.
The reveal seemed to break through Smith’s stoic exterior as the sheer disbelief forced a chuckle and a wide smile out of him. Not only did a whole lot of things suddenly make sense, but he found himself with an even greater appreciation for everything that Oliver Queen had done for Star City, and he couldn’t even be mad at himself for not figuring it out sooner.
“You son of a bitch,” he said through his wide grin before offering a hand, “Thank you.”
Oliver gladly shook his hand, knowing that saving Star City would not have been possible without the man in front of him.
“And I’m guessing that you knew this whole time?” asked Smith, turning to Morgan. The detective merely shrugged his shoulders and smirked, “You motherfucker,” he muttered, “So, who’s the unlucky girl?” Smith asked, turning back to Oliver.
Oliver chuckled. “Smith, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Chapter Text
Just like Oliver, Kara was not content with wasting any more time. They were set to have their wedding at the Queen Mansion just two months after the proposal on the 12th March of 2025. The first of two ceremonies, the second to take place under Kryptonian custom and tradition on Argo City where Oliver and Kara would stay while they try to conceive a child.
The night before the wedding, Oliver called Roy to his room in the mansion.
“You said you wanted to see me?” Roy asked as he entered.
“Yeah.”
“About what?” asked Roy before noticing a briefcase on the bed, “What’s this?”
“You’ll see in a moment,” Oliver replied, before taking a deep breath, “Listen… I am going to be gone for possibly over a year and I know that you, Diggle and Mia are going to keep an eye on things while I’m gone, but something in my mind told me that if things go wrong, Arsenal isn’t going to be enough. Not only that, but that you also deserve to be someone… something more than Arsenal. The only reason I haven’t done this sooner is because I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but I realised that there’s no way that it can’t be.”
Oliver opened the briefcase, revealing the slightly smaller, sleeker Green Arrow suit along with his folded bow.
“Oliver, I… I can’t,” Roy replied after the initial shock settled, “You’re the Green Arrow, not me. This is your hood. Your mantle.”
“And now, I’m giving it to you,” said Oliver, “You’ve earned this, Roy. You have not only my respect and complete faith, but my admiration too. You have the potential to be a greater hero than I ever have been. And you will be.”
Oliver Queen had never intended to be a symbol. When he started his crusade, he opted for a bow merely because it was his preferred weapon of choice, and wore Yao Fei’s hood only to honour him and his daughter for the roles that they played in making him a hero. But these two seemingly benign things, his hood and his bow, ended up inspiring and starting something far larger than him. He now understood the power of symbolism and with it, sentimentality.
He knew Roy. He knew what he was feeling. He knew that there was an inner turmoil dragging him in two directions right now, one that told him to honour Oliver’s legacy by following in his footsteps and the other that told him not doing so would honour that legacy even greater. As with most others making a life-changing decision, he needed reassurance and perhaps even a slight push in the right direction.
With that in mind, Oliver picked up the bow from the case. His bow. He allowed it to fully unfold in his hand before extending his arm, handing it to Roy. A symbolic gesture that he hoped would speak far more than words ever could.
Reluctantly, Roy took the bow. The symbolic weight of what it represented burdened his shoulders, making it a struggle to even just hold the bow.
“You are the Green Arrow now,” Oliver assured him.
Roy nodded, accepting the massive honour that Oliver had just given him, “I’ll keep the hood warm for you until you get back.”
Oliver chuckled before stepping forward and hugging Roy.
Despite the short notice, no one invited was willing to miss the delightful occasion of Oliver and Kara’s long overdue marriage as they all made it to the ceremony. A small gathering of less than 50 guests, the wedding was only attended by their close friends and family.
John Diggle was set to be the officiant. Roy, William and Barry were the groomsmen while Alex, Lena and Nia were Kara’s bridesmaids. Without a living parent, Eliza Danvers walked with Oliver down the aisle while J’onn J’onzz walked with Kara, as he had done for Alex when she married Kelly.
They left for Argo City the day after the wedding. Not knowing exactly for how long they were going to be gone, they shared goodbyes with their loved ones on their respective Earths. While the goodbyes were tearful, only tears of joy were shed, all of them being just as happy and excited for Oliver and Kara as they were for this next chapter of their life. But as excited as they were, both were equally daunted by what lay ahead of them.
Although Oliver had met and spoken to Alura through video transmission before, this was going to be his first time meeting her in person. Kara reassured him that they would develop a great relationship by pointing to Oliver’s relationship with Eliza.
“Why are you so nervous? You’ve already gotten the approval of one mother-in-law, I’m sure this one will like you just as much,” she told him.
She turned out to be correct, as Alura immediately took a liking to him.
Seeing and walking through Argo City turned out to be just as fascinating and awe-inspiring as Oliver had expected it to be. Not only was exploring and studying a piece of an alien civilization captivating, it was also a massive honour. He was only the second-ever human to step foot on the comet, following in the footsteps of Lois Lane. Kara had taught him a lot about Kryptonian culture and told many stories of her childhood in Argo City, but experiencing and seeing it with her now made it all the more special for both of them.
The Kryptonian wedding also proved to be nerve-wracking for Oliver. Knowing how special the occasion would be for Kara, he extensively studied every part of the ceremony and ran through it nearly a dozen times to ensure that he didn’t make a mistake.
No matter how much she taught him and how much she told him, Oliver simply would never be able to fathom what it was like for Kara to have a Kryptonian wedding. For years, she had been forced to confront the fact that her very home and culture had been lost. She never ruled out the possibility of marriage, but a Kryptonian ceremony seemed an impossible and unattainable fantasy for her. But as she professed her eternal love to Oliver for the second time through a ceremony of her culture, her eyes became watery as the joy and bliss radiating through her body overwhelmed her.
She didn’t think she’d ever reach a state of elation as intense as she had right there and then...
Until she fell pregnant.
This part of their trip was by far the most daunting and biggest concern for them. After all, the worry that they wouldn’t be able to have healthy children had been one of the reasons why their relationship had ended years prior. After lengthy discourse with the doctors and scientists on Argo City and some reassurance from Alura that everything was going to be fine, they decided to give it a try.
Both in peak condition and without any health issues, they were able to conceive within their first month of trying. The pregnancy ran fairly smooth for Kara, and that along with constant check-ups confirming that the baby was healthy put them at ease.
Eventually, the day came for their son to arrive in the world. They decided to name him Connor.
For all intents and purposes, Oliver was just as much of a first-time parent as Kara. Luckily for them, Alura was always on-hand to help when they were struggling. Although Connor’s genetic makeup was part-Kryptonian, only time would tell if he would inherit any powers.
Now the 30th of November, they’d spent nearly ten months on Argo and nearly two months with Connor in their lives. Time was flying by quicker than they could comprehend and although their close friends were taking care of their Earths, it was only a matter of time before they would have to leave Argo City. Making the most of every moment was a must, so Kara decided to take Oliver to a large hill called the Jewel Peak at the edge of the city.
“You sure this is safe?” Oliver asked, holding Connor as he stood with Kara at the base of the hill.
Kara raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “What kind of a question is that?”
“I haven’t exactly had the best experiences with mountains in the past,” replied Oliver, “The last time I got to the top of one, Ra’s Al Ghul threw me off of it.”
“First of all, this is more of a hill, and secondly, I can assure you that there are no megalomaniac, immortal assassins waiting for us at the top,” replied Kara.
“If you say so,” replied Oliver, pretending to still be anxious.
They began the trek to the top of the hill. It was not steep at all and with few shrubs and trees in the way, it was a leisurely walk to the top. Upon reaching the peak, Oliver immediately realised why Kara had brought him here as he gazed at Argo City in all of her beauty.
“Wow. Great view,” he said. Connor started to become restless in his arms, stretching out a hand in Kara’s direction, “You want mommy? Okay, here you go.”
He handed Connor to Kara, who immediately planted a kiss on her baby boy’s cheek. They took a few moments to cherish the beauty and serenity of the moment before Kara broke the silence.
“My mom used to bring me up here as a kid. She used to say that if you looked hard enough, you could see the future from up here,” she said.
“That’s a little corny, but it’s a nice sentiment,” replied Oliver, “What does it look like?”
“Not bad. You?”
Oliver thought deeply, contemplating for several seconds about what his future would most likely look like. He turned to Kara, wrapping an arm around her waist kissing her on the forehead before replying.
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Notes:
The End.
I didn't plan this at all, but this very last chapter of the Destined For Redemption series ends up being posted exactly one year to the day that I completed the first draft of When Destiny Calls, the story that spawned this series. How fitting.
I cannot overstate just how much I loved writing the three stories of this series over the past 17 months. Exploring these different versions of our beloved characters has truly been an amazing journey for me and I hope that all of you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. To each and every single one of you that has clicked on any story of this series and given it a chance, I cannot express how thankful and grateful I am to you for that. I appreciate all of you!
For the first time since I began writing in January of 2020, I've come to the end of a story and I don't have a clear path to go to next. The past few months have been a rollercoaster of emotions for me, and I think after hyper-focusing on stories for 20 months, I've started to experience some really bad writing fatigue and doubt. I've always had another idea or concept that I couldn't wait to get started on but right now, even though I do have some nice ideas, I just can't seem to get them down. It might be a while, maybe even a long time before you guys see me post a story again.
That may sound like a goodbye, but I'd like to think that it isn't. To quote Thea Queen, "Think of it as a See You Later." :)
Damon51 on Chapter 1 Thu 01 Apr 2021 07:30AM UTC
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TheHood13 on Chapter 1 Sat 03 Apr 2021 10:01PM UTC
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