Guardian Angels

Summary: AU/ After five years in hell, Oliver Queen has returned home with only one goal – to save his city. Unfortunately, nobody told him he'd have to wait in line.

Chapter 16: The Mother of all Evil (Part II)

(Queen Mansion)

Moira paced up and down the living room in front of the land line and her cell phone beside it on the table, hoping, waiting for a call from her son after the events at Merlyn Global. She'd already reached out to the other members of the Undertaking and warned her partner in crime. He was on his way to the mansion now, with his daughter. Though she doubted this place was any safer than his own home. At least not while her son was out. In the meantime, she was also waiting for another call...

That was how Walter found her an hour later when she'd tired herself of walking up and down and instead rested against the edge of the table, worried eyes never glancing up from the silent phones. She was incredibly tense and stiffened further when she noticed him enter. He went over to her and gently brushed his hands over her arms, which seemed to relax her a little.

"Moira, won't you tell me what's bothering you?"

"Walter, I told you before-"

"Something is obviously wrong. I can see it. Can't you confide in me? I only want to help you," he promised his wife.

Moira closed her eyes. A helpless tear streaked down her face. He caught it and gently wiped it away with a thumb. Moira leaned a little into the touch, the warmth like a soft balm on her wrecked nerves. She looked up at him, wondering if she should confide in him. It was almost over anyway. Soon he would know everything anyway. Couldn't she show him a little trust already? She felt all the secrets and the lies and her pain well up in her, a dam finally breaking under the pressure, now that the hour she'd dreaded for five years was so near at hand.

"Oh Walter, I've made a terrible mistake. I've been trying so h-hard to do every... everything right, to make up for... R-Robert and... and I think I just made a bigger mess of things." The words rushed out between sobs. She couldn't hold it in anymore, the sobs wrecking her body as she tried to make sense of everything for him. She doubted Walter understood another word, but he pulled her into him and held her until the sobs died down and her body began to stop shaking.

"What happened, Moira? What mess did you try to fix?", he asked again gently.

"Yes, mom, I'd like to hear that too," Oliver piped up as he came in, a surprising number of people in tow. Frank Chen and his daughter Amanda, Detective Lance and Raisa came into the room with him.

"I think we all would," Detective Lance added caustically.

She quickly asked Raisa to show the Chens their rooms, trying to keep them out of it, but Frank told his daughter to go ahead. He intended to stay for the conversation. She locked eyes with Frank, but his expression was unreadable. Moira bit her lip, wondering how much to reveal, all the while itching to take her son into her arms, but his stiff posture told her she was not welcome.

She stepped away from Walter and wiped furiously at her tears while she moved over to the sitting area. The others followed, albeit a bit reluctantly on Oliver's and Lance's part. When everyone was seated and she felt marginally more composed, she took a deep breath to broach the subject. She cast a glance at Lance who nodded at her in encouragement. The gesture was not lost on Oliver and had him narrow his eyes at the two of them.

"A few years before... before the Gambit, Robert got involved with a plan of Malcolm's to save the city. As you know, Malcolm's wife was killed in the Glades and crime was – and is – practically endemic there. So he gathered many of the richest and most powerful people of Starling City around him, among them my husband, to try to gentrify the Glades. At least that's how he put it. Together they worked toward influencing politics toward zero-tolerance drug laws and more police presence and such..."

Oliver's eyes narrowed further. He could just imagine the elite doing their best to have poor people's civil rights hollowed out. He had no doubt systematic disenfranchisement of felons and preventing people of color from voting were also part of the strategy. He felt bile rise in his throat; this was what his life of privilege had been built on.

"This way," Frank continued when the words apparently got stuck in Moira's throat, "he slowly radicalized his methods until his ultimate plan didn't seem so far-fetched."

"His ultimate plan?", Walter asked, with suspicion.

Moira nodded.

"He told Robert, Frank and the others that he wants to depopulate the Glades. Evict everyone, tear down the buildings and build a new city atop. That's when it became too much for Robert. He was constantly worried and evaded the subject every time I tried to talk to him about it-"

"Sounds familiar," Walter muttered.

"He told me about it eventually. All of it and how he planned to make it public and try to set things right after his boat trip with Oliver." His mother looked at him for only a moment, then back down at her clasped hands. "When the Gambit sank, I suspected that there was foul play. Especially when Malcolm approached me... He... He threatened Thea if I didn't cooperate-"

She had to wipe away tears again, but more and more kept coming until Moira could only bury her face in her hands. Some of Walter's anger evaporated at seeing her so broken. He scooted closer and put his arm around her shoulder.

"So you've worked for him this entire time?" Oliver asked, less than sympathetic. Even if he wanted to feel for his mother, pushed into an impossible situation by his father and Merlyn, he couldn't allow himself to lose focus.

"That's why she came to me," Quentin spoke up. "She's been working with us to build a case for a while now."

Oliver turned his head to the detective. The two men scrutinized each other briefly, but Oliver could see no open animosity on the older man's face as he had expected. Instead, the detective seemed to be quietly resigned. He suspected the detective had not been convinced by Diggle's Hood.

This was certainly news for Frank Chen, who zeroed in on Moira, wondering why she had persuaded him to hire the Triad if she was working with the police. He pursed his lips, knowing an advantage when he saw one. He would need to ensure Amanda's safety and having a secret to lord over Moira's head like her attempted assassination of Malcolm Merlyn might come in handy.

"We haven't addressed the most important issue," Frank spoke up again, filing his findings away for later. "That is how he plans on depopulating the Glades."

"You said he wanted to evict them and start from scratch," Walter interjected, but Frank shook his head.

"As it turned out, that was not the correct order," Frank muttered darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since the Undertaking acquired Unidac Industries, he's directed their efforts to a prototype for seismic stimulation."

"I acquired Unidac," Walter reminded them, then looked at Moira.

"I had to keep up my part," she mumbled.

"Never mind that now, what do you mean seismic stimulation?" Lance questioned.

A brief ring interrupted them for a moment and Oliver excused himself briefly. He stayed in the room and within earshot, but moved to the window to check the message Laurel had sent him.

Play along.

He looked outside, hoping to spot her, but everything was quiet. So he wrote back.

Stay hidden. My mother is talking.

He turned back to the conversation.

"It's essentially an earthquake machine," Frank told them. "It's still a prototype, but something has spooked him. He wants to use it in a few days."

"The Hood spooked him," Moira added, a quick glance at her son that made Oliver uncomfortable. "He intends to obtain the prototype and place it in the Glades and..."

"And raze them to the ground," Oliver finished. "Then 'rebuild'."

The obvious bitterness in his voice made her duck her head as the silence settled all around them. It engulfed them until each of them felt like they were drowning in its dark sorrow. No one said anything for the longest time.

"When?", the detective finally broke the gutting silence. He was looking at Oliver in a way that made the young man stand a little straighter, but he kept his focus on his mother.

"When does Malcolm plan to acquire the machine?" Walter repeated the question, pushing Moira's chin upward and looking intently at her face.

"Soon," she said. "He's moved the plan forward, but I don't know exactly..."

She trailed off.

"Tonight," a new voice specified.

The whole group snapped their heads around to Tommy. He stood in the door, looking like a half-drowned kitten even though the day was sunny and dry. His shoulders were slumped and there was a glumness about him as his Himalayan wool coat seemed to dwarf him. He hovered on the edge for another moment before he fully entered the room.

"And he's the Dark Archer," Tommy added in a stage whisper. He, too, looked at Oliver as he said it.

Oliver opened his mouth to comfort his friend, his brother, but he suddenly didn't know what to say. Tommy must have felt terribly betrayed by both his father and his best friend – and probably by Laurel, too. Everyone in his life kept their true self a secret from him. No one was who they claimed, so he probably didn't know who to trust.

And still...

And still Tommy had found his way to them. To the Queen family, to Oliver, to his mother, whom Tommy must now know to be in league with the Undertaking. His friend's courage awed him, even as the way Tommy's eyes shied away from him after a moment made his heart clench painfully.

"He's what?!" Moira asked.

Oliver turned to her.

"Didn't you know?"

His mother swallowed, shaking her head frantically.

"Malcolm always talked of him as his associate," she mumbled.

"Yes. It sounded like he'd hired him as a body guard during his years away," Frank added thoughtfully.

"The Dark Archer killed several people and threatened a number of hostages," Lance recapitulated. "If you're willing to testify, I could arrest him."

He glanced at Tommy, who was visibly divided on the issue.

"No point," Oliver pointed out darkly. "He'd either skip out of custody or kill everyone you could bring along to arrest him."

Everyone looked surprised at his tone and demeanor, hardly able to reconcile them with his laid-back billionaire playboy attitude.

"What else do you suggest?," Tommy asked tensely.

Oliver blinked at his friend.

"Only that it will require more skilled people to catch him," Diggle intervened. "We know even the Hood was badly injured fighting him and he's been evading the police for months. The Dar- Mr Merlyn will be just as skilled an opponent."

"And probably a good deal more dangerous," Walter agreed. "The Hood only went after criminals."

Tommy fell silent, but he kept glowering at Oliver and Diggle.

"So we are supposed to work with vigilantes now," Lance grumbled.

"You've worked just fine with Black Canary, from what I hear," Moira countered, earning herself a surprised look. "What, you think I didn't do my homework on you?"

"How long...?"

"Since the beginning. Why do you think I came to you, Quentin? I read your file; you had experience with the gray side of the law."

Lance bit his lip and glanced at the heavens as if in a frustrated prayer. He looked like he was trying to swallow down some choice words for Moira, whether on her illegal acquisition of his file or her comparison between the Hood and Black Canary.

"In any case," Diggle interfered again, before they could start to argue in earnest and get everyone off track. "Since we know where he'll be tonight, it's the perfect chance to capture him. It would be wise to lay a trap."

He looked pointedly at the detective until the man shrugged.

"Fine," he agreed tersely. "If they turn up, I won't immediately gun for him."

Oliver managed not to raise his eyebrows. Even though Lance insisted he bring Canary, he counted it as a win.

"Did he say when?", Lance continued.

"No, just... tonight," Tommy admitted. "He... I don't want- don't hurt him, please."

Lance sighed.

"If there's a fight, people are likely gonna get hurt," he told the younger man, "but, I'll... we'll try..."

Tommy seemed to think about that for a moment, but then nodded. He knew, rationally, it was the best he could hope for. His father had made his bed and now he had to lie in it, but... he was still his father. It was ironic that with all the lying, Laurel had been dead on about that. You didn't stop loving someone just because they disappointed you – even repeatedly.

Slowly the group dissolved. Walter walked Lance to the door, who cast Oliver a glower before he left. Then his step-father took in how Moira was still sitting on the couch and offered to take Frank to his room. Amanda had probably found Thea by now and the two were hopefully busy trading stories and gossip. Some girl-time might do Thea good after everything, too.

Tommy hovered a moment longer, then turned to move to the door. When Oliver made to follow him, his mother got up. She cast a glance at Diggle before approaching her son.

"Oliver, I-" She paused, unsure how to continue, while his jaw set painfully. "I think we should talk."

Oliver took a deep breath.

"I think we just did... and there's nothing else left to say."

"Oliver!" The pleading did nothing to melt the ice in his heart when he now looked at her.

"Not now, mom," he said definitively. "Maybe not ever."

Then he rushed after Tommy, catching up to him in the atrium.

"Bro," he called quietly, hoping he was still allowed to use that term. When Tommy turned, his face couldn't seem to settle on whether to be angry or sad.

"Don't call me that. We haven't been that close since you left on that damn boat," he growled.

Oliver tried to say something, but Tommy went on.

"You know, I thought we were friends. When you were lost, I- I went looking for you. I searched half of Asia for you, until..."

He didn't continue, but Oliver already knew. Until he himself had threatened Tommy into giving up.

"And when you came back, you were all smiles and sex and rock 'n roll... and all of that... all of that was just a front. Behind it you're... a killer. Behind it, I don't even know who you are anymore!" Tommy barked.

"I'm no one," Oliver admitted. "Dad gave me this task and... that's all I became-"

"No! No, you don't get to explain," Tommy interrupted harshly. "You had a chance, you had a million chances. To explain. You could have come to me... but you chose silence. Let's stick to that!"

He made a beeline for the door, but Oliver pushed it closed even as Tommy opened it.

"Let's not," he pleaded. He was shocked at how broken his own voice sounded. "There's been too much silence between us already, Tommy."

His friend's face remained stoic. He reached for the door again.

"When I didn't tell you, it wasn't because I didn't trust you-"

"No, let me guess," Tommy cut in sarcastically. "It was to protect me."

"Not really," Oliver said, surprising him. Tommy stilled at the admission, no longer trying to force the door open, and blinked in confusion.

Oliver looked away.

"Thats what I told myself, though. I told myself I was trying to protect you, but I knew... all this time I knew I was really trying to protect myself."

"From me? You thought I'd go to the police."

"No, but I was afraid you might walk away from me. And I couldn't... I couldn't lose you again and especially not to my own demons. You should never have had to face those-"

He interrupted himself.

"No, that's not really true, either. It was a lot more selfish. I wanted you to have your friend back because I wanted to keep mine. I- I'm sorry."

With that, Oliver stepped away from the door. It finally slipped open the tiniest bit, the cool air brushing Oliver's face. He closed his eyes and waited for Tommy to pass him by on his flight from the monster he had become. When nothing happened, he looked up again.

Tommy was studying him carefully. Clearly he was torn on whether or not to believe Oliver's explanation and apology. With all the lying his friend had done, he found it difficult to trust him now, but he still wore the face of his once best friend. The one he'd spent his childhood with, his lost brother, and Tommy wanted to believe him so badly.

He reached out towards Oliver, hand hovering over his shoulder. He was hesitant to make contact and Oliver didn't push him, for which he was grateful. Ultimately his hand fell back to his side, but a small sad smile made it to his lips.

"I- Be careful, yeah?" He stepped away through the open door. When his back was to Oliver he stopped again. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he added the last bit in a whisper. "We'll talk when you're back."

Oliver watched him go. He said nothing more, but Oliver felt a little better. When he turned back to find Diggle smiling at him encouragingly, he even managed to smile back a little.

"We need to call... Laurel. She'll want to evacuate CNRI," the bodyguard suggested, careful just in case.

Oliver hummed. He pulled out his phone and texted Laurel to meet them in his room. A moment later he got the answer.

Way ahead of you.

His brows knitted together, but he relayed the message to Diggle and they made their way up to his room. The hallway was dark and empty and Oliver remembered that his mother had moved Thea's entire room closer to the master bedroom, so she could be there if something happened. He was now the only one living in this wing of the manor, which was just as well, considering his nighttime business.

Pushing open the door, he became aware of a dark-clad figure sitting comfortably on his bed and playing on her phone. Expecting Black Canary to be in uniform, he thought nothing of it until the discrepancies started to sink in and he pulled his seventh-grade art class piece of pottery from the dresser automatically, hurling it at the intruder.

"What the- Oliver?!" Diggle barked alarmingly.

"Killer Canary," was all Oliver said by way of explanation.

Diggle seemed to catch on and pulled his gun. The woman, meanwhile, had dodged the piece of pottery, losing nothing more than her phone in the process. It skidded across the floor to a corner of the room, while she got up, slid under Oliver's swing and reached Diggle before he could fire. She grabbed the veteran's arm to pull it over her shoulder. That way, the gun was pointed at Oliver instead, while she slammed her elbow into Diggle's kidney a few times.

Oliver saw that her blows were too soft to be truly harmful, though they clearly knocked the air out of Diggle and his gun clattered to the floor. She kicked it away before Oliver could dive for it. She walked Diggle back into the wall. When he was squashed between her and the wall, she turned around and slid her arm underneath his armpit and onto his back. Oliver made a move to prevent her from slamming his friend face first into the wall, but instead she only twisted him half-way around and thus pushed him straight into Oliver.

When the two had disentangled themselves from each other, she was ready to jump at him. Her legs wrapped around him as she twisted herself down in order to make him fall. Before Oliver knew what was going on, he was lying on the floor underneath her. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw Diggle grab a floor lamp, ready to smash it against her head, but he was a little distracted by the shit-eating grin on her face.

"If it works on you, I'm sure it would have worked on your mother," she announced by way of explanation.

Oliver frowned and Diggle stopped mid-motion.

"L-laurel?", Oliver choked, the first to regain his senses as Diggle put down the lamp.

"Were you expecting some other woman in your bedroom?", she asked cheekily. "Cause I could come back later..."

"No, no, it's just...", Oliver said as he traced the outline of her atypical black leather outfit. His eyes roamed over her, wondering if he should feel more queasy about seeing Laurel in (potentially) his ex-girlfriend's killer outfit.

"If you two need to be alone...", Diggle coughed.

Laurel turned her smirk on him, but mercifully climbed off of Oliver.

"So, this was your plan," the veteran continued. The two men scrutinized her as she stood. Now that they took a moment to really look at her, they could see that the reproduction of the impostor's outfit wasn't one-hundred percent faithful, but close enough to fool someone who didn't pay it too much attention.

Laurel hummed, removing the leathers and the chain mail from her chest, then slipping out of the pants. Underneath it she wore a pair of soft cotton leggings and a plain T-Shirt for mobility. Only the firm boots left any indication that she'd been dressed for battle. Oliver gave her a duffel bag to shove her armor into, then threw it to the side.

As he and Diggle brought her up to speed, he observed her face change from shock to horror to cold determination.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

"God, I can't imagine," Amanda breathed out after she had listened to Thea tell her of her stay in the hospital. What she could remember of it, anyway. Being slightly older than the young Queen, she hadn't had that much to do with Thea aside from the occasional charity party, but they'd run into each other on her way to the guest room. Initially, Amanda had felt awkward but obligated to ask, but Thea had clearly been excited to talk to someone outside of her own family.

Desperate may also have been a fitting description...

"In the hospital I was under constant observation. So many tubes stuck into my body, I felt like a guinea pig or something."

"You must be glad to be home."

Thea scoffed.

"I wish," she muttered irritably. "Since I'm back, mom treats me like I'm made of glass. I can't go out and if I want to go into the garden, she always wants to accompany me or sends a fricking security detail with me. I mean...! What, does she think the grass will rise and swallow me up?!"

Amanda's eyes went wide with surprise. She had never imagined Mrs Queen to be so controlling. Then again, her daughter had just been drugged and nearly died.

"I'm sure she's just worried, Thea. I mean... look what happened to you!"

"You mean it's my fault?"

"No!", Amanda protested. "Don't put words in my mouth. I just mean that, after what that piece of shit tried to do to you, I can understand why she might be a little paranoid about your safety, is all."

The teenager seemed somewhat mollified.

"I guess... But still, I couldn't even go cheer Malcolm on for winning his award. There wouldn't have been any illegal drugs at that party and my mother would have been with me the entire time..."

Amanda shuddered at remembering the news report. She hadn't been able to go either, because she had to study for her mid-terms.

"No, instead it had a bunch of psycho assassin shooting into the crowd. Be glad you missed it."

Thea shrugged.

"But mom didn't know that would happen and she still forbid me from going," Thea retorted weakly.

Amanda smiled gently.

"Well, why don't you talk to her about it? If you tell her how you feel, how suffocating you find it, I'm sure she'll listen... You might have to be patient with her, though. My dad lost my mom almost eight years ago and I still have to call in every night when I come home while I live on campus."

She chuckled a little at Thea's dumbfounded expression, remembering how annoying she found that and the other rules her father had made. Especially when she was younger and there had been more. Things had mellowed out over time, but a protective father stayed protective no matter how independent Amanda got.

Thea smiled a little, too. Yes, she could imagine Frank being an attentive father, but her mom didn't seem attentive so much as scared out of her mind whenever Thea strayed from her sight. Maybe Amanda's dad had been the same initially? She blew out a puff of air, wondering how long it would take for her mother to get back to normal.

"You know what? Why don't we go on a shopping trip and then a night on the town? I'm sure your mother can't have anything against that if we go together."

"And if she does?" Thea asked, frustrated.

"Well, then it's better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission."

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(SCPD)

For just a second, Nudocerto looked suitably shocked. Then Quentin had to listen to him scoff and shake his head. Really, the detective should have expected this. His boss, for all his open-mindedness in some issues, was certainly not gullible and this story must sound far-fetched to the uninitiated. That was the snag, though, because Nudocerto had been the only person he'd talked to after Moira came to see him and they'd agreed to keep the investigation between them and off the books. He knew everything that Quentin knew on the case, except what he'd found out that very day and now he knew that too.

And laughed in his face. Quentin glared and Nudocerto quietened after a moment.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but you gotta admit what you're suggesting is preposterous!"

"It's what our informant told me. And a second member of the organization confirmed it. On the spot!", Quentin reminded him emphatically, shaking his hands in front of his boss' face like he wanted to shake him instead.

He did, as it were.

"Who's the informant?" Quentin frowned. "The other one," the chief clarified.

Quentin looked around uncomfortably. They were at the police station in the middle of the day. So far they'd always kept late hours to talk about this matter, just in case any of the many members of the mysterious Undertaking were policemen. He glanced down at Nudocerto's desk and picked up a notepad and pencil. He wrote down Mr Chen's name and held it up to the chief's face, before ripping off a few sheets of paper, crumpled it and stuffed it deep into his pocket.

Nudocerto looked both impressed and concerned once the name sank in. First the Queen family and now another prominent family among the city's wealthy benefactors. If what they had said was true, they and more were involved in a string of illegal dealings that was supposed to culminate in mass murder.

"How have only two of them come forward?", the chief asked, numb.

"Statistically, people at the top positions of multi-million dollar companies have a lot in common with psychopaths," Quentin quipped. "A high opinion of themselves, boundless ambition, low empathy..."

Nudocerto glared at him. Quentin shrugged. His anti-rich-bastard feelings were widely known even before Oliver Queen got his little girl killed and turned into a murderous vigilante. It was a sore issue for him that the rich always got richer on the backs of everyone else. Still, even he had to admit that so many of them wanting to crush an entire district, including everyone living there, had shocked him to his core.

"You want me to get a warrant for Merlyn's arrest?"

"No, it would be our informants' word against his. We have a bit of a paper trail thanks to our man in Merlyn's security, but he doesn't have the access we need to be sure of a conviction."

"Then how do we stop-"

Quentin put up his hand, asking to be allowed to continue.

"There's one other thing. According to... Tommy Merlyn, who's apparently only just found out about his father's plan, Malcolm Merlyn is also the Dark Archer."

"The Hood imposter?"

"The same."

Nudocerto shook his head incredulously.

"Next you'll tell me Thea Queen is the Black Canary..."

Quentin huffed and rolled his eyes.

"The point is, he intends to get the machine from Unidac Industries tonight."

"We'll catch him red-handed." The chief smiled. A smoking gun would be nice. "Do you want to put together a team? You can pick whoever you want."

Quentin hesitated. He'd thought about that quite a bit on the way to the precinct. When he'd left the Queen mansion, he had been hell-bent on getting a SWAT team and arresting Malcolm Merlyn himself, but then he had to think of all the precautions they had taken to keep the case off the records because they didn't know who they could trust. They still couldn't and Quentin wasn't willing to risk the operation on a gamble. He didn't want to go alone, though, either.

"I'll take McKenna."

Nudocerto raised an eyebrow.

"The vigilantes will be there," Quentin admitted.

The second eyebrow joined the first. "All of them?"

Quentin looked away in annoyance, while Nudocerto smirked as if he thought that was a fitting punishment.

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(Unidac Industries)

"Everything is quiet on my end," Black Canary reported with an edge of boredom to her voice. Oliver wondered if he should tell her not to get inattentive, but it was a step up from the restless, anxious pacing he'd born witness to through the comm link, so he counted his blessings.

"On mine, too," he replied calmly.

"And mine," Diggle added in his role as Spartan.

"The police's frequency is quiet, too," Ted supplemented. He'd decided to act as tech support that night. Oliver hadn't known it before, but an old injury made him err on the side of caution when it came to proficient killers and meta-humans like Malcolm's Dark Archer persona. He figured he was more use as the 'brains behind the scenes' – Oliver tried not to take offense at that. "Detectives Lance and McKenna are in position. Hood, they're below to your left."

Oliver glanced down to the parking lot. In a sea of concrete stood maybe half a dozen cars, but only one van with a covered cargo area, blinds almost completely drawn in front of the windows. The driver's compartment was empty.

"I see them," he confirmed.

"What's he waiting for?" Canary muttered, impatient.

Oliver thought that perhaps she should have stayed home.

"Canary," he warned softly.

"Don't worry. I won't kill him, even though part of me still wants to," she reassured him without being prompted. He could hear the anger simmering just underneath the surface. If Diggle hadn't discovered that Killer Canary had probably survived, he wasn't sure Malcolm would walk away from this.

Come to think of it, he still wasn't sure...

"But?", he prompted.

"I won't make promises about what state he'll leave Unidac in."

Her voice was dark with anger, but calm and controlled in a way he had to admire. Revenge was a dish best served cold, Oliver remembered, and Laurel had clearly taken that statement to heart. He felt reasonably sure that she was in control. Her anger was deep, but cold and calculating.

"He should be able to talk and stand trial, though, if you want to whip his ass in court again," Diggle reminded her.

"If he ever turns up, I'll take it under advisement," she replied quietly.

As if her words had been an incantation, something small zipped through their line of sight onto the front door of the company's building. A second later the front exploded into a glass storm. Once the grainy mist had fallen to the ground, the dark figure dropped down on the sidewalk. When the two detectives stormed out of the back of their van, guns drawn, to arrest him, the Dark Archer took cover briefly to nock another arrow on his bow and fired it at the approaching police officers.

Fearing another bomb, Oliver intercepted the arrow with one of his own in time to pin it to the ground a few feet away from the detectives. Something must have ticked, because the two turned on their heel and ran in the opposite direction just to be knocked down by the force of the second explosion. Shooting a cable across, Oliver dropped himself between the detectives and Merlyn, while Diggle came at him from the front providing cover.

Merlyn retreated a little further into the building from the gunshots, but by that time Canary dropped down at the side of the building and used one of her sonic bombs to smash in the remaining security glass. Oliver watched as Merlyn cringed at the screeching sound. Laurel used the opportunity to slide across the ground and knock his feet out from under him, then kick him in the guts when she stood up again.

She must not have held back, because the kick literally sent Malcolm flying. When she followed to do more damage, he blocked her with a kick to the thigh. She stumbled backward and had to skip further away to avoid the knife he swung at her. Oliver nocked another arrow to shoot the weapon out of his hand – and maybe shoot his hand in the process – but Malcolm was quicker. He threw the knife in his and Diggle's direction, forcing them to duck under it, while side-stepping the arrow.

Laurel had pulled out her sticks and badgered the Dark Archer with swift, powerful combinations of hits. He managed to duck under or block most of them, but had no time to retaliate and had to suffer a few hits too. Their close quarters made it impossible for Oliver and Diggle to shoot without risking to hit their friend.

"Canary, do you mind?" Oliver asked quietly, arrow pointed at the fighting pair. When she heard him through the comm link, she ducked to the side under a swing. An arrow embedded itself in Malcolm's chest along with three bullets. Laurel kicked him in the side while he was distracted by the hits, sending him flying through a middle section of security glass that, though cracked, had miraculously stayed up so far.

"Is it me, or is this too easy?", Diggle murmured softly through the comm link.

Oliver found himself agreeing. Last time, he hadn't been able to hold his own against the Dark Archer and even Canary had only just matched him. Yet now they seemed to be wiping the floor with him. Maybe it was because they were all ganging up on him or because he hadn't expected resistance, but he was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

He watched for another moment, while Canary side-stepped a kick to her face, then swung her leg around to make him fall. Malcolm used his hands to soften the fall and flip backward, grabbing onto an arrow and ending up pointing it directly at her face. A shot rang out, then a bullet skidded across his shoulder pad, diverted by the armor. He dropped the arrow to grab Black Canary and pull her in front of him instead. She resisted, kicking him to get free and making him stumble away from the sheer force of her blow.

"Spartan is right. Go check the rest of the building," Ted instructed over the comms.

"You go," Oliver told his friend. "I'll stay with her."

Diggle cast him a glance.

"No offense, but you don't have the skill to fight Malcolm."

"Neither do you, as I recall," Diggle reminded him in a warning tone, but made his way further into the building. "Be careful."

Oliver took a deep breath and joined Laurel outside.

Malcolm was driving her backwards, finally showing some of his true skill. Laurel turned to run at a steel beam and jumped off it to punch her opponent, but the Dark Archer stepped backward, caught her arm and tried to slam her back into the column. Before she could walk face first back into the unforgiving steel, Laurel got her leg up to push off the column. Thus putting herself back to face her opponent, she rammed her elbow sharply into his side, then into his face. The vigilante turned around to grab the back of Malcolm's head and pull it down just as her knee pushed up to inflict some additional damage. Oliver lowered his bow, seeing he was not needed, and contemplated going to help Diggle because something was still off. Especially since he got no report from Spartan, not even to tell them all was quiet.

"Wildcat?", he prompted their overseer.

"I'm not getting anything either," the man replied as if reading his mind. "Best guess, Unidac is somehow shielded against radio waves going in or out. Maybe for security reasons. I'm trying to amplify the signal to see if I can't re-establish contact."

"30 seconds, then I'm going in after him," Oliver announced, worried. He glanced over at Laurel to assure himself all was good, before he walked over to check on her dad. He trusted Laurel to call for help if she needed it.

"You guys okay?", he asked gruffly.

Lance glanced at the unconscious McKenna. Thank God for small blessings.

"We'll live. What about-"

"Laurel's got him." He sounded more confident than he felt. "Something's wrong."

"Other than having blasted mini-arrows in my side; how do you figure?!" Lance grunted.

"He is going down too easily."

"No, he isn't", a voice disagreed. He turned around to find Laurel dragging an unconscious man behind her with one hand. With the other, she threw his veil down in front of his and her father's feet. Both men glanced around her; she had removed the dark hood, too, to reveal a stranger wearing the armor.

"That's not Malcolm Merlyn," Oliver muttered, more to himself, in exasperation.

"Thank you, Sherlock Hood," Lance grumbled. "What the hell is going on?"

Suddenly, there was an explosion in the background, quickly followed by another smaller one. Laurel turned her head toward the sound.

"The smoke comes from the other side of the building," she told them a little panicked.

"Spartan is there."

"Go and help him," Laurel told him. "I'll keep an eye on our... diversion."

"Too late," a new voice joined them, coughing. "What happened?! Where were you guys; I couldn't get through!"

Their heads snapped up to where Spartan was stumbling and limping towards them. Finally, he held onto the front desk to come to a stop. Letting go of her dead weight, Laurel moved over quickly to steady him and help him out of the building. She helped him sit down next to her dad and took a look at his injuries. His body armor had protected the more vital parts of his body, but she could see the indentations where he had been hit by a tight triplet of shots.

"Tell me those were bullets," Laurel groaned, even as she saw the broken off piece of arrow still embedded in heel. "Shit! Did you break that off?"

He shook his head. "Should have, though. It broke off when I rolled out of the line of fire. Fucking hurt!"

"And you saw Malcolm? Another Malcolm?", Oliver questioned, already dreading the answer.

"No, the real one. He destroyed the cameras and then took of his mask as if to mock me... He... He has the machine. Blew up the back of the building, then loaded it with the help of a few masked guys. I shot one of them, but they took the body away under continuous fire." Aside from the coughing in-between, he sounded rather put together, which was a relief. "I wanted to follow him, but... When he threw a grenade my way, I ran for it."

"So, then, who is your guy?", her father asked.

Laurel's eyes narrowed. "Let's find out."

She marched over back to their captive. Clearly not Malcolm; he looked like he might be one of China White's men. Except they had tried to kill him recently, so either he was a defector or Malcolm had something on him to ensure his cooperation. Laurel growled, picking his sorry ass up unceremoniously. The sudden pull woke him from the depth of unconsciousness and earned a scream of pain from the man.

"How did you get into this?", she asked him loudly to make herself heard through his damaged eardrums.

The man spit at her feet, prompting her to stomp on his foot. The resounding yell filled the broken silence.

"I wish I were still out," the detective muttered in the background.

Oliver knelt down to be eye level with the man.

"She asked you a question. I'd advise you to answer, before she lets loose another one of her sonic bombs... right down your shirt."

Their captive swallowed, but gritted his teeth.

"I'll get him to talk at the station," Lance suggested.

"We don't have that time," Diggle grunted. "Malcolm has the machine."

Their prisoner suddenly became restless, thrashing to get away from them. Oliver was the first to react, grabbing onto the man's shoulder and lightly slamming him back against a steel column. He and Laurel each picked up one arm and pulled them backward around the column to try to get him under control. His head thrashed around, then a light crack resounded among the small group.

"He's foaming at the mouth!" Diggle warned them as her father shot forward to forcibly open his mouth.

He took a whiff and stepped back.

"Cyanide," he told them. "He's gone."

"And with him our leverage," Laurel breathed. "He got away, again."

"We'll have to confront him directly," Diggle added.

"I'll try to get a warrant."

"He'll have to place the machine somewhere. It won't be at Merlyn Global. You look for it, we'll deal with Malcolm ourselves." Oliver told Quentin.

"We also need to warn the public," Laurel reminded them gravely.

"There'll be a panic... Looting, violence...", the detective predicted. "But people might be able to get out. It's better than just letting them walk clueless into their deaths."

"Alright, we'll leave that in your hands, too. We need to reconvene about more details," Oliver said tiredly. Then his ears perked up.

"And cue the sirens," Diggle sighed.

End of Part II!

A/N: And the second part is uploaded. We're nearing the grand finale!