Arrow--Vengeance

by Oscar Balderrama

  “Oliver Queen, isn’t it?” he said, turning the attention of the protesters and reporters. Queen looked caught, feeling the eyes of the crowd and lights of the cameras on him.

  “Alderman,” he said.

  “What brings you to Glades Memorial, Mr. Queen? I assume someone of your means can afford the best medical treatment money can buy. And I can assure you, you’re not going to find that here.”

  “And that’s wrong, Alderman Blood,” Queen responded. “The people of the Glades have suffered too much not to have access to basic medical services.”

  Sebastian felt his anger grow. The audacity of this man, born of privilege, speaking as if he knew the plight of the Glades. He bore down on Queen, striding over and bringing the crowd with him.

  “Well, that’s very compassionate of you to say,” he said, “although I wonder where your family’s concern for its fellow citizens was when they ordered the construction of the earthquake machine that killed 503 people.”

  The mention of the Undertaking and its victims began to incite the crowd. They grew louder, their anger palpable. They began to chant.

  “Five-Oh-Three! Five-Oh-Three!”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, please!” Sebastian made a halfhearted attempt to calm the crowd. Though Diggle, sensing trouble, was trying to lead his boss away, for some reason Queen hung back for a moment. He moved closer to Sebastian, as if he had something to say.

  “I will be doing everything in my power to atone for my family’s culpability in this tragedy,” he said, and he sounded earnest. Yet Sebastian wouldn’t be swayed.

  “I’m sure the people of the Glades will sleep better knowing that…” he replied, his intensity building, “…if they still had a place to sleep. If their homes hadn’t crumbled around them. If their stores and their businesses hadn’t been condemned.” His words enraged the crowd. They shouted at Oliver as he fled back to the car, Diggle leading the way.

  “You did this to us!”

  “Go back to your mansion, rich boy!”

  Caught up in the moment, Sebastian joined them.

  “Spare us your mercy visits, Queen!” He watched as the crowd followed Queen and Diggle to their car, surrounding it as they quickly entered. “You’ve done enough to this city already!”

  As Queen’s car started up and made its way through the throng, one of the protesters took the end of his placard and smashed it through the passenger-side window. The sound of the glass shattering brought Sebastian back to reality. Violence wasn’t his intention.

  He would have to be more careful once his mayoral candidacy was official—yet as far as the car window went, he felt little remorse. It was a reminder of the plight his Glades brethren faced daily. One that wouldn’t be easy to fix.

  * * *

  Just a few days later, Sebastian paced the anteroom outside Oliver Queen’s office at Queen Consolidated. The last time he had waited outside this door, the office had belonged to Walter Steele. He had been so nervous, waiting for his big meeting with Walter and Moira Queen. He had also been so naïve, thinking people like them could ever really care about the Glades. All the neighborhood was to them was a prop upon which to hang fake empathy, their promises to improve the area nothing more than bluster.

  Finally, through the glass, he saw Queen approach, his assistant at his heels. Queen had requested the meeting, voicing the intent to make amends after the incident outside Glades Memorial. The request had piqued Sebastian’s curiosity. After being publically ridiculed, most in Queen’s position would have placed as much space between them as possible. He wondered what the Queen heir had to say.

  “Alderman,” Queen said, holding the door open for him to pass through. “Thank you for coming.” He extended his hand.

  “Mr. Queen.” Sebastian ignored the gesture, instead walking past him into the office, to the floor-to-ceiling windows and the panoramic view of Starling City. “This is some view,” he commented. “How small the rest of us must look from up here.” He waited until the blonde assistant had left, then turned to face his host, with no intention of making the encounter easy.

  “I was surprised when you said you wanted to meet,” he said.

  “Not as surprised as I was when you turned a frenzied mob on me,” Queen replied as he took a seat on his couch, gesturing for Sebastian to sit.

  “Oh, that shouldn’t have been too surprising.” Sebastian settled into the chair across from him. “My constituents hold a lot of anger toward your family.”

  “They have a right to,” Queen admitted. “My mother was involved in something… unspeakable. But I’m my own man, and I’m not your enemy.”

  “You’re not a friend—to me, or the people of the Glades.”

  “I am hoping to prove otherwise.” Queen began to pull out his checkbook.

  “Mr. Queen,” Sebastian said quickly, becoming annoyed. He leaned forward in his chair. “Not every problem can be solved by money. Real change will never happen until your elitist friends realize that it’s morally unacceptable to allow thousands of their fellow citizens to live right down the street, but in a third world.”

  “Then let’s show them,” Queen responded without hesitation. Sebastian sat back, surprised. “I’ll host a benefit. Invite some of my ‘elitist friends,’ and then you and I can help them see what needs to be done.”

  “People seeing you,” Sebastian said, leaning back on the couch, contemplating the possibilities. “Seeing you stand up, the CEO of Queen Consolidated, taking responsibility and being this cause’s public face. That would make a difference.” His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp the concept.

  Queen stood, buttoning his suit jacket.

  “Then let’s make a difference.” Again, he extended his hand.

  Sebastian regarded the man who stood before him. Was this merely a publicity stunt, a way to get back into the city’s good graces? Regardless, having the Queen name backing his cause couldn’t hurt. In fact, it could be quite beneficial for his impending mayoral campaign.

  Swayed, he stood and took Queen’s hand in his.

  “Listen. I am truly sorry for what happened outside that hospital,” he said. “Sometimes my emotions get the better of me.”

  Queen nodded, accepting the gesture.

  Sebastian exited the office and began to head back to the Glades. He thought that the rich kid seemed sincere. A year ago, Sebastian might have even given him the benefit of the doubt, but he knew about the promises made by the rich. They were fragile and easily broken. Why would Queen’s promises be any different from those made by his mother?

  No, I won’t be fooled, he thought.

  * * *

  Sebastian Blood snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s service tray and took an eager sip. He looked around at the men and women gathered for the Glades Memorial benefit—all members of the Starling City elite, their day-to-day existence so far removed from the plight of the Glades. Dressed in clothes costing a week’s worth of medical supplies, they engaged each other in breezy small talk, fake laughing, and glad-handing the night away while waiting for Oliver Queen to show his face.

  Just as when he was elected alderman, Sebastian felt out of place. He hated playing into the dog and pony show, though he knew it was a necessary evil. Yet until Slade Wilson came through on his promise, until the army had been built and the mayorship given to him, he would have to grit this out. He walked through the transformed Queen Consolidated space, shaking hands and introducing himself, his smile the fakest of them all.

  Until he saw Laurel Lance wandering around the space, stunning in her sleek black dress. He knew of her through his work with the city. She was an up-and-coming member of the district attorney’s office, having joined after her non-profit law firm was lost during the Undertaking. He had seen her picture before, but in person, her beauty was breathtaking. He felt a genuine smile forming, the dumbfounded expression of a boy seeing something he might like to play with, if lucky enough to be giv
en permission. The champagne giving him courage enough, he called after her as she passed by.

  “You look like a woman who’s looking for someone.”

  She turned and he smiled at her, turning on the charm. She regarded him for a moment, then continued walking, scanning the crowd. Sebastian followed.

  “A friend of mine,” she said. “He’s throwing this benefit.”

  “Ah, Oliver Queen.” He fell into step as she slowed. “I didn’t realize you were friends.”

  “Very old friends.” She stopped finally, squaring him up, her manner turning somewhat cold. “So you can imagine how I feel about you putting him in the crosshairs of public opinion, Alderman.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’ve apologized to Mister… Oliver… for my rhetorical excesses. In fact, it’s that détente which brings us all here tonight.”

  She relaxed a bit, and a look of surprise flitted across her features.

  “So where is Oliver?” she said.

  “That’s exactly the question I’m asking myself.”

  “He’s been known to arrive late to events before. I’m sure he’s on his way.”

  “Well, at least I’m in good company while we wait.” He smiled at her again, raising his glass to toast. Lance paused momentarily before finally giving in to a smile, clinking his glass. It seemed to him as if a spark passed between them.

  * * *

  Looking out over the city, Sebastian could see the part of the Glades leveled by the earthquake. Though Laurel Lance’s presence had distracted him momentarily, whatever attraction was at play was extinguished by that sobering image. He glanced at his watch, calculating that Queen was over an hour late and counting. Clearly, the man shared his mother’s propensity for failing to make good on his word.

  Decision made, Blood began to move toward the podium, Lance at his heels.

  “It doesn’t seem Mr. Queen is going to honor us with his presence this evening,” he said to her.

  “So where are you going?”

  “To address his guests.” He turned to face her. “It’s time they realize what kind of man their host is.”

  “You’re just going to crucify him in the media again?” she said, anger appearing in her tone.

  “Crucifixion has such a bad reputation,” Sebastian said earnestly. “But the Romans used it to punish people who acted against the public good.”

  Lance tried to convince him to stop, but Sebastian ignored her and stepped to the podium.

  “Ladies and gentlemen?” he said, tapping the microphone, grabbing the crowd’s attention. They stopped their conversations and clapped politely in response. “Thank you, but you should hold your applause for Oliver Queen. This evening’s event was his brainchild. As such, you could be forgiven for wondering why Mr. Queen isn’t with us tonight.”

  He looked out on all the wealthy he so despised. Then he left the podium, rounding to the middle of the room, unbuttoning his restrictive suit jacket. He spoke to them as he had the protesters outside Glades Memorial, cameras flashing from the gathered media.

  “And the answer, I’m afraid, is painfully apparent. He doesn’t care. I told Mr. Queen that this city’s problems cannot be solved with his money, and that he needed to stand up and be counted as someone who cares. So where is he now? I don’t know where Oliver Queen is. All I know is that he isn’t here. This city is dying. And it needs someone to stand up and breathe new hope into it. Tonight, it is painfully obvious that that person is not Oliver Queen.”

  The speech was met with stunned silence. Sebastian regarded Lance with a look, feeling a momentary twinge of regret, then made his way through the crowd, glad that he had painted Oliver Queen in his true light—as a liar, a man of big talk but little action.

  If anyone was going to save the Glades, it would be Sebastian Blood.

  * * *

  “Oliver Queen finds himself in the hot seat once more, at least in the eyes of City Alderman Sebastian Blood.”

  In their penthouse office on the outskirts of downtown, Slade Wilson and Isabel Rochev watched a news report on the failed Glades Memorial benefit. Blood had continued to eviscerate Oliver in the press, stopping outside the venue to give an interview to Channel 52. A chyron across the bottom of the screen read, BLOOD TRUMPS QUEEN.

  “Oliver Queen’s failure to show up at his own benefit shouldn’t surprise anyone,” Sebastian said to the reporter. “He’s no different than the rest of the Starling City elite, who have failed to show up when it comes to ending the suffering of those left devastated in the Glades.” He then looked directly into the camera, speaking to the city with a mayoral air. “Oliver Queen is not a friend to the people of this city.”

  Isabel smiled. The cost of transforming Queen Consolidated into a venue worthy of a black-tie benefit wasn’t beneficial to her company’s bottom line. She had resisted when Slade asked her to allow it to happen.

  Now she understood.

  “This is why, isn’t it?”

  “He does look quite mayoral, doesn’t he?” Slade responded. “It seems that Mr. Blood’s political influence grows, as well.”

  Then BREAKING NEWS crossed the screen. The anchor, Bethany Snow, read from a report as China White’s picture appeared in the upper left corner of the screen.

  “After a prolonged pursuit, police have arrested Chien Na Wei, a high-ranking member of the local Chinese Triad, which was responsible for the recent hijackings of pharmaceuticals bound for Glades Memorial. Representatives praised the efforts of the SCPD in saving the hospital from being shut down…”

  Slade leaned back in his chair, mulling the news. China White was a trained assassin, one who would choose death over incarceration. He had expected Oliver to oblige, needed to release the killer within him to stop her. Apparently, the kid honestly believed he could save his city without taking a life. The problem with choosing a more honorable path, however, was that it was far more difficult than quickly slitting an enemy’s throat.

  Isabel regarded him with a smirk.

  “Capture is odd behavior, coming from a killer.”

  “Oliver’s trying to make amends for past bloodshed, by refusing to shed more,” Slade responded. “Forcing him to break that vow is just another way I can make him suffer.”

  “What about Ms. White? Can we trust her not to talk?”

  “All she’ll say is that a man in a mask gave her money and asked her to steal,” Slade said. “The more important point tonight is that the SCPD received credit for the arrest—not the vigilante.”

  “Judging from what my sources in the D.A.’s office have said, Laurel Lance is responsible for that. She’s apparently made it her mission to bring the vigilante to justice.”

  “His former lover, unknowingly leading the crusade against him,” Slade noted, relishing the thought. “Oh, the irony.”

  “Doubly so, actually. She was also seen flirting a bit with our mayor-to-be.”

  “That could prove beneficial.”

  Isabel nodded. “What now?” she asked.

  “Time to turn up the heat on our CEO.” Slade leaned forward in his chair. “Oliver will likely want to redouble his efforts to rehabilitate his image. This time, if he tries to use his family’s business as a prop, stop him.”

  6

  Isabel grabbed a drink at the bar, taking in the sight of the gathered business emissaries as they ate and drank Queen Consolidated funds. She had arranged the fundraising event at Queen Mansion ostensibly to raise investment money for the company. In reality, she was applying pressure on Oliver, stretching him thin between his duties as CEO and vigilante.

  She sipped her vodka soda, wondering what new excuse her business partner would come up with tonight when he finally showed. Reading between the lines of his assistant Felicity’s feeble explanations, she assumed he was out chasing down leads on the latest epidemic to befall the Glades. A local ganglord had been flooding the neighborhood with military-grade assault weapons, transforming the streets into a war zone. She didn�
�t understand why Queen—and Sebastian Blood too, for that matter—could be so obsessed with that downtrodden neighborhood. If it were up to her, she’d just as soon let the neighborhood perish. Malcolm Merlyn had been right. Much better to simply level it and rebuild anew.

  She spotted Blood across the room, glad-handing his way through the crowd. She had to give the man credit. For as much as he despised these people, he did know how to fake a smile with the best of them. No wonder he was a politician. She watched as he made his way closer to Laurel Lance, sneaking glances in her direction even while shaking hands with the mogul from Gregio Inc. It seemed the reports were true; their mayor-to-be was indeed smitten with the A.D.A. Judging from the glances he received in return, the feeling was mutual.

  “He’s here.” Isabel looked up to see Felicity approaching, Oliver entering behind her. He looked a bit haggard, though he did a good job of hiding it.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  “This party is to attract investors for your failing company,” Isabel said without preamble. She enjoyed twisting the knife, making him feel guilty for his absence. “Being fashionably late might do well for the club circuit, but it doesn’t inspire confidence in Wall Street… is that blood on your face?”

  She had spotted some splatter on his cheek, pointing it out to make him squirm, while doing her best to hide her enjoyment. Felicity jumped into action, fumbling her way through more flimsy excuses.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not his blood,” she said, before realizing her error. “I mean, of course it’s his blood. Why would he have someone else’s blood on his face? Who taught you to shave, mister?” And then she pulled him away, extracting him from the situation before any additional damage could be done, and disappeared into the crowd.

  Isabel took a sip of her drink, relishing how badly they were floundering. She had barely begun to turn up the pressure.