2Prompt from Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-thon: unintentional discovery
Oliver shoves his hands in all four of his pockets before realizing his penthouse key is nowhere to be found. Swearing under his breath, he checks his coat pockets and freaks out a little more when his key is still MIA. He does one more round of checking his pockets until he feels something stabbing the side of his stomach. Frowning, Oliver lifts his shirt and sees his key stuck between his pants and stomach, which somehow managed to stay on while he took a subway and walked to his apartment.
Pleased by the turn of events, Oliver takes out the key and unlocks his door, but he can tell something's immediately off – the lights are all open, some of his stuff has been moved around, and he senses someone watching him.
A rush of adrenaline hits him, but before Oliver can channel that energy into something, someone grabs him from behind and locks their hands over his chest. And every boxing lesson he's taken in the past six months comes back with a vengeance – Oliver's muscle memory takes over faster than he imagined, and he's become the lethal adversary he's worked on becoming.
He immediately jabs his elbow towards the intruder, intending to hit their chest with all of his might, but another pair of arms encircle him, this time stronger and intent on keeping him down.
Oliver tries to bring his right arm above his head so he can grab the intruder's head, but before he can the other intruder grabs a hold of it and dangerously twists his wrist. Yelping in pain, Oliver does his best to shake off the two assholes but he's outnumbered and physically outmatched. So much for those boxing lessons – he'll need to have a word with Digg once he's done with these jerks.
"Stop – moving – so – much!"
The person sounds male and definitely like the asswipe that grabbed him first. He desperately does his best to push off the guys holding onto him, but his efforts prove futile. Oliver tries to use his leg to break someone's knee, but the person moves their leg back and promptly kicks him in the shin.
Crying out in pain, Oliver doubles over and stops fighting once he realizes he can't get out the situation by punching and kicking.
"Oh my God, guys! Stop hurting him!"
Oliver immediately freezes when he realizes the voice is distinctively feminine, but he can't look up because someone's wrapped an arm around his neck. The hold isn't tight, but a little more strength and Oliver will have trouble breathing.
Sensing how much danger he's in, Oliver stops his movements altogether, but can't resist saying a few choice words.
"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing at my apartment?"
"Hey, hey – relax," someone above Oliver says. The person loosens their hold on him, but their arms are still wrapped around his torso. Glancing down, Oliver can tell the person isn't very strong – the muscles aren't as pronounced as his buddy's but Oliver can sense how tall the man is.
"There's no way in hell I'm relaxing until your asses are out of here! I'm calling the cops –"
"That's a really bad –"
"Just – Listen, Oliver, you need to hear me out."
There it is again – the feminine voice from before. Oliver hopes her presence will stop the two guys from hurting, or worse, killing him. There's a chance she probably got mixed in with the wrong crowd. If Oliver can plead with her to change her mind, perhaps he can leave unscathed.
Still, he can't resist asking a stupid question, mainly because he's genuinely interested, and he hopes he can throw these intruders off by pretending to be stupid.
"How do you know my name?"
"The whole world knows it, douchebag." The voice is definitely coming from the guy putting Oliver in a chokehold. He hates him already.
Right, well– he is Oliver Queen after all. The arm around his neck loosens, as do the arms around his torso. Before he knows it, he's been released all together, but the two men who grabbed him stand close by, ready to pounce if Oliver tries to escape.
Oliver looks to his right side and finds an ungodly tall man who looks sorely out of place. He suspects the guy is more used to sitting behind a computer screen than going after rich people like him. Once Oliver deduces he's not a threat, Oliver glances over to his left and sees a shorter man with a stocky build. Oliver can see his muscles underneath his black coat, and annoyingly the guy's got a smug look on his face. This man is definitely a threat but Oliver suspects he won't do anything until the woman tells him to.
"Get the fuck out. All of you," he growls.
"Or what?"
The stronger man to his left steps forward, not at all intimidated by Oliver's physicality. He's got a scar running down from his forehead down to his under eye, and a smile's starting to creep up his lips. Oliver doesn't like him – period. The guy's too arrogant . . . but perhaps his arrogance might be his one fatal flaw.
Like any rich person, Oliver's got a safe tucked inside his closet with a gun for situations such as these. If Oliver can convince these knuckleheads there's a treasure chest full of money and Rolex watches in his room, Oliver can find a way to get to his safe and his gun. It won't be too hard – only his fingerprint opens the safe, and it'll take two seconds max to open it.
The arrogant prick laughs suddenly and eyes Oliver like a hawk watching his prey. "Bruh, you're not gonna get to your safe and take out your .380, all right? We already cracked it, took out the gun, and presently it's in much safer hands." The man steps forward and jabs a finger on his chest. "So don't try it."
Shit. He's not at all prepared for this. These people are smarter than he anticipated – no one's supposed to be able to break into his safe, but whoever they are they're not who they seem. And there's a part of Oliver that knows these intruders aren't here to steal from him.
It's something worse.
"Oliver, you need to trust us."
His eyes snap up to follow the sound of the voice, and he's not at all prepared to see a woman decked out in clothing from Hot Topic. Her hair's jet black with a few purple streaks, she's small and petite, but there's an air to her that convinces Oliver she's the one behind all of this. His earlier assessment was wrong – she didn't get involved with the wrong crowd. She controls the wrong crowd.
"Who's 'us'?"
The woman glances at her compatriots before stepping forward. She swallows and takes a deep breath, and it is then when Oliver gets a better look at her. Underneath the makeup and black clothing, she is kind and caring, and for some inexplicable reason Oliver knows he can trust her.
"We know you're compiling evidence of Malcolm Merlyn destroying the Glades one bad apartment complex at a time."
A chill runs down his spine and his stomach rolls in nervousness, coiling higher and higher until it's lodged in his throat. He wants to scream, run, or laugh but none of those options seems viable.
For the past eight months, Oliver's been investigating Malcolm Merlyn for his unethical and immoral practices against the residents in the Glades. Oliver stumbled upon it by accident – he wanted Queen Consolidated to work with Merlyn Global in order to revitalize the Glades, but when he began to talk to the residents Oliver found a very different picture. And before he knew it, he was gathering as much evidence as he could with the intention of releasing it to the public and bringing Merlyn down.
Oliver worked so fucking hard to cover his tracks. He would take different routes all the time, he wore hoodies and masks, he carries a USB with all the information with him 24/7, and he made sure he had an alibi for every absence, but in the end it didn't matter. God, he was so stupid, and now there are three unknown people in his apartment who are most likely here to kill him.
"H-How?"
"Because we're doing the same thing."
Same thing? Oliver's mind runs in circles, desperately trying to connect the dots, but he quickly realizes these people aren't here to kill him. They're on the same side.
"Christ."
"Merlyn's sending a group of men to your place in three minutes." Three minutes? How do they know the exact time? He glances down at the woman and she stares back with a heavy look.
"They're going to stage a burglary and pretend it's a ransom kidnapping, but in reality they're going to take you to Merlyn who will most definitely kill you once he has what he wants."
Holy shit, this is . . . real. Malcolm Merlyn – his second father, his godfather for fuck's sake – is trying to kill him. He's a wanted man and no matter what happens now, his life is practically over.
He can't handle this. It's too much. One minute he was excited about getting a chance to lie in bed, the next he's being manhandled and told his life is in danger. He's in a weird state – numb but hyperaware of the fuckery going on.
"What the actual fuck. What is even happening right now." He buries his face in his hands, using every bit of energy to snap out of this crazy dream. But it's not a dream – it's a horrible reality.
"C'mon Overwatch, we're running behind." The tall, nerdy man who grabbed Oliver first makes a motion to get out of his penthouse, while his partner watches with disinterest.
The woman – Overwatch, whatever that means – places a gentle hand on his arm, her fingers cold to the touch. He's unprepared to feel a slight jolt from her touch and warily looks down at her hand before glancing back at her. He takes note of her soft blue eyes, and wonders how many other men have been lost under her spell.
"Look, I know you have a lot of questions, but you can ask them when Merlyn's thugs aren't coming here to kill you in about 2 minutes."
She squeezes his arm in urgency and reassurance. "We need to leave – now."
Despite the absurdity of the situation, Oliver knows how serious this is. Seeing how on edge everyone looks, he knows they're not lying. He could be dead if he doesn't leave with them and it's the last thing he wants. He needs to take down Merlyn and he needs to protect his mother and sister. And if it means teaming up with a band of misfits and strangers, then it's what he'll have to do.
Gathering every bit of courage he has, Oliver stands a little straighter and takes a deep breath. He needs a few essential items before leaving for the foreseeable future.
"Wait, my clothes, my –"
His throat closes up when he realizes he might not be able to save the picture he has with his father, and a family photo with Thea and his mom. If this is it, if his old life really is over, he wants to cherish the memories of his family.
Thea and his mom will be crushed when they realize he's disappeared and left without a note. He promised all those years ago he would be the man his father wanted and what his mother deserved. Leaving like this will hurt them beyond repair.
Closing his eyes, Oliver inhales deeply as he tries to control his emotions. This is too much.
"It's already packed, and I . . . I put in a couple pictures in there, if you don't mind. Figured you'd want that."
The woman's voice is soft and gentle, and he's struck by her thoughtfulness. She could've easily left those photos behind, but she packed them without even knowing Oliver would want them. He nods in acknowledgement but can't find the strength to say thank you.
She's unfazed. Releasing her hand on his arm, she orders, "One last thing: gimmie your phone." Oliver quickly pulls it out of his pocket and she drops it to the floor before breaking it with her foot.
Now it's back to business as usual. The two men start to gather their bags and Overwatch steps back, looking around to see if they've missed anything.
"Okay, everything ready? Let's go."
The men immediately leave his apartment but Oliver finds himself frozen. He's worked so hard to become CFO at his father's company, and everything he's done for the past three years is going to disappear the moment he leaves. Oliver should've known not to kick the hornet's nest, but he cares, and he genuinely thought he could make a change.
He was wrong.
"I promise it'll work out in the end. But you have to trust us."
It's the second time she's said this, but he doesn't want to believe her. "I . . . I don't think I do."
"Well, at least trust me." She gives him an odd look before leaving, and Oliver quickly finds himself all alone in his home.
Taking a deep breath, Oliver tries to burn the memory of his home before he forgets it. The moment he walks out that door, it'll be the end of a life he's lived since he was born, and there will be no going back. Yet there's a part of him that knows a different chapter is about to begin.
And losing everything he earned to take down Malcolm Merlyn is worth the sacrifice.
