* * *
Sebastian nodded politely, half-listening to the businessman’s argument for deregulation while he eyed Laurel across the room. Fortunately Mr. Young’s cell phone started ringing, and he excused himself to answer. Never had Sebastian been so grateful for such a rude gesture. It allowed him an escape, yet when he looked up, Laurel had disappeared. As he started to move through the party in search of her, he heard a voice behind him.
“You look like a man who’s looking for someone.”
He turned to see her standing there, a nearly empty champagne glass in her hand. She was, as usual, stunning, her sleek black dress exposing the soft curve of her shoulder. He grinned, remembering his line from the Glades benefit.
“I would say I’m looking for a friend, but after the way I attacked him on TV, I doubt very much that Mr. Queen considers me one.”
“Sounds like we’re in the same boat.” Laurel finished her drink then swapped her empty glass for a full one. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m second chairing his mother’s murder trial?”
Blood nodded, grabbing a drink and raising it.
“To us, the Queen family pariahs.”
Laurel clinked his glass, enjoying the gallows humor. As gorgeous as she was, Sebastian saw weariness beneath the beauty. In addition to seeking the death penalty for Moira Queen, she herself had recently been the victim of a heinous crime. He softened, deciding to carefully broach the subject.
“I also heard about your run-in with that serial killer, the Dollmaker,” he said. “You’re lucky he didn’t add you to his list of victims. I was going to ask if you were okay, but I figure you’re pretty tired of that question by now.”
“You have no idea.”
“It’s pretty obvious you’re doing just fine.”
“All thanks to the vigilante, believe it or not.” She took a long sip of her drink.
“I’m inclined to say not, what with you leading the task force against him.”
“Trust me, I’ve been wondering about his motives,” she replied. “It would have been easy for him to let me die, thus removing a thorn in his side.” Her brow wrinkled at the thought.
“Some of my constituents have begun to view the vigilante as a savior of sorts.” Sebastian said it as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Well, he may have rescued me,” she said, “but he’s no savior. He’s just a man hiding behind a mask, and he deserves to be brought to justice.”
“I certainly hope so,” he said, picturing his own mask. “Speaking of justice, mind if we talk a little shop?”
“Not at all.”
“Are you guys any closer to figuring out how that fellow they call the Mayor is smuggling his guns into the Glades? My district is a war zone right now.”
“We’re trying, but as you know, it’s a bit like the Wild West out there.”
Sebastian was about to respond when he saw Oliver Queen walk past, in conversation with his blonde assistant. He overheard a piece of their conversation.
“Not this time,” Oliver said. “Tonight it was guns.”
“What a coincidence,” Sebastian said, raising his voice and interjecting himself into their conversation. “We were just talking about guns.” He found it amusing, the idea of Queen discussing firearms. A rich kid, discussing issues at a remove from the reality. As if he had ever faced the barrel of a gun.
As if he had ever pointed one, with the intent to kill.
“Hey, Oliver,” Laurel said, and he thought he saw a flash of embarrassment cross her face. He instantly sensed the tension between them.
“Hello, Laurel,” Queen replied quickly.
“What’s your interest in guns, Mr. Queen?” Sebastian asked.
“Never touch them myself.”
What a surprise, Sebastian mused. “The gun violence in the Glades has reached epidemic proportions,” he said aloud.
“Which is why the D.A.’s office has committed to ending gun violence,” Laurel said.
“Well, I’m sure the police are doing whatever they can,” Queen said dryly, “to catch whoever’s bringing the weapons into the city.”
Sebastian traded a look with Laurel, who looked away out of embarrassment.
“Did I say something funny?” Oliver asked.
“They know who’s been arming the gangs, Oliver,” Laurel said. “The Mayor.”
“I thought the Hood copycats killed the mayor.”
“Not the actual mayor,” Sebastian said derisively. “A local ganglord who calls himself the Mayor. Thinks he’s the man to save our city.”
“But that position has already been filled, hasn’t it?” Laurel said, goading him a bit. Sebastian laughed, enjoying the implication.
His reputation was growing.
“This Mayor has only one goal—” he told Oliver, “—to create chaos, so he can rule the Glades with the barrel of a gun.”
He watched Queen processing the weight of this revelation.
“How about we change the subject?” Sebastian said, letting him off the hook. “Mr. Queen looks bored. I imagine the only gun violence he sees is when he’s skeet-shooting off his yacht.”
Queen smiled at the jab, and Sebastian looked upon the man with a mixture of contempt and pity. It seemed as if the rich playboy genuinely cared for his city, and it was unfortunate that his affluence kept him removed so far from reality. Though he would try, Oliver Queen would never understand the city’s problems.
Not like Sebastian.
* * *
The following day, Oliver surprised Sebastian by calling him and asking to meet at Queen Consolidated that afternoon. All he said was that he wanted to continue their conversation from the night before. Sebastian agreed.
Thus he was waiting in the conference room when Isabel Rochev entered, closing the door behind her.
“Ms. Rochev,” Sebastian said with faux formality. “So pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”
“Do you know why Mr. Queen is meeting with you today?” she asked.
“I’d guess it’s to make another attempt at appeasing his guilty conscience,” he replied. “Though I do find it odd that Oliver Queen, of all people, is offering me help with the Glades, while you and Mr. Wilson sit idly by in your penthouse.”
Isabel bristled slightly. “There are larger issues in play. You know that. So you would do best to be patient—and watch your tongue.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“If it is, it does not come from me.” Isabel let that land, and Sebastian chewed on the implication. Then she changed the subject. “What’s the status of the mirakuru testing?”
“Things have been… difficult, since the Mayor turned the Glades into a war zone. Like I said, some help would be nice.”
“Then perhaps you’ll get it from Laurel Lance. I saw you two looking quite comfortable together last night.”
“You’re spying on me now?”
“Slade would like you to pursue that relationship.”
“Why?”
“It can’t hurt having the ear of an A.D.A. More importantly, getting closer to her will hurt the vigilante.”
Sebastian darkened. “And why should I care about him?”
“Because, Mr. Blood, right now—even as Starling City’s public enemy number one—the vigilante’s influence is still greater than yours.”
He seethed silently for a moment, and was about to respond when through the glass he saw Oliver Queen finally arrive. He pushed his way through the closed door.
“Mr. Blood. I see you’ve met Miss Rochev. She’s my—”
“Superior,” she said.
“Partner,” Queen said.
“On paper.”
“Is that why you asked me to come down here, Mr. Queen?” Sebastian asked. “To mediate your job title?”
“You and I have gotten off on the wrong foot… repeatedly,” Queen began.
“That seems to be your metahuman power,” Sebastian commented with a laugh.
&
nbsp; Letting that slide, Queen continued. “I was inspired by what you said the other night, about gun violence in the Glades,” he recalled. “And I had an idea that might help.”
“Really? Another party at your stately manor?”
“No,” Queen said. “I want to sponsor a ‘cash for guns’ event. I give you the money, and you get your constituents to lay down their arms. Everybody wins.”
“Especially you,” Sebastian suggested. “Trying to repair your family’s tainted name by ridding the Glades of guns.”
“You just get the money, Mr. Blood. I don’t want my family’s name involved.”
“Mr. Queen,” Isabel said, “may I have a word with you?” She shot Sebastian a look, indicating that it was time to end his meeting.
“Let me think it over,” Sebastian said, then he stood and exited.
* * *
Once they had the room to themselves, Isabel moved to shut Oliver down.
“We are not sponsoring that event,” she said.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “I am.”
“With what money? Your investment party cost QC fifty grand, and no one invested a dime. I will not continue to authorize corporate funds, just so you can keep pretending that you are the CEO.”
“Fine,” Oliver said. “I’ll pay for it myself.”
Isabel laughed. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but your personal trust fund isn’t exactly what it used to be, and this company isn’t either. As much as I would love to make this city safer, my first obligation is to Queen Consolidated. And yours is, too.”
She turned and exited the conference room, leaving Oliver to ponder his predicament. He had no idea that this was only the beginning.
* * *
Sebastian agreed to the “Cash For Guns” event, but only on the condition that Queen stay out of the spotlight. This function was to be about the Glades and only the Glades. To his surprise, Queen followed through and agreed to the conditions they’d established.
For Sebastian, it was a chance to show his constituents that true leadership took place in daylight, not under a hood in the middle of the night. Tents were set up in a central Glades location, on the cracked concrete of an abandoned lot beneath the freeway overpass. Buyers were instructed to offer top dollar in exchange for the guns, no questions asked.
Foot traffic was brisk and steady from the opening moment, Queen’s money providing incentive enough for residents to give up their arms in the name of creating a safe community. Police stood watch at the perimeter, squad cars positioned nearby.
As Sebastian made his way through the assembled crowd, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, he spotted Oliver Queen’s sister, Thea, standing with the young man who had attempted to stop one of the thefts from Glades Memorial. Moments later, and much to his surprise, he saw Oliver Queen himself on the event’s fringe, taking in the proceedings rather pensively. He was dressed down, and attempting to blend in with the crowd.
So his habit of breaking promises continues, Sebastian mused, frowning. At least he’s consistent. He approached the playboy, snapping him out of his thoughtful stare. “You don’t show up when you say you will, and when you promise not to, here you are.”
“Is it going well?” Queen asked.
“Last check, we’ve taken in over two hundred guns in only three hours.” The good news did nothing to change Queen’s expression. “Try not to look so happy about it.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind, Alderman.”
Sebastian could sense that he was genuinely troubled. Buoyed by the success of the event so far and feeling charitable, he offered a sympathetic ear.
“After all, my job is to help people with their problems.”
Queen turned to face him. He hesitated for a moment.
“Two people that are very important to me are having a tough time. Sisters, actually, and neither one of them is making it very easy for me to help them.”
“Sooner or later, we all go through a crucible,” Sebastian suggested. “I’m guessing yours was that island.” Queen nodded, and he continued. “Most believe there are two types of people who go into a crucible—the ones who grow stronger from the experience, and the ones who die. But there’s a third type. The ones who learn to love the fire. They choose to stay in their crucible because it’s easier to embrace the pain when it’s all you know.”
Queen didn’t reply, but Sebastian saw that his words had resonated. Despite their different upbringings, the look in his eye indicated he understood pain the same way Sebastian did. Perhaps there was a depth within the playboy he had overlooked.
“That’s why I’m on the clock,” he explained. “To help this city before the people get used to living like this.”
“Living isn’t for the weak,” Queen offered. “An old friend of mine once told me that.”
“That’s a wise friend.”
The two men regarded each other with newfound respect, when the screech of tires broke the moment. It was followed by the sound of automatic gunfire, sending the crowd of people into screaming panic. Sebastian and Oliver watched as the ganglord the Mayor arrived atop an armored pickup truck, flanked by men armed with assault rifles pointed up into the air. As people scattered, the truck crashed through wooden police barricades, smashing them to pieces. Then it squealed to a stop at the lot’s center.
The police drew their guns, pointing them at the gang leader, but the Mayor simply stared them down, unfazed. As the officers struggled with what to do next, he addressed the crowd.
“Listen up, people,” he shouted. “This is your mayor speaking. Now I don’t recall this here event being sanctioned. What happens in the Glades only happens if I allow it.”
Incensed, Sebastian walked out from behind cover.
“You’re not the leader of this community!” He summoned every bit of his mayoral presence, realizing this was the moment he had been waiting for—the opportunity to confront the man who had the audacity to take his title. “You don’t speak for these people!”
“And neither do you. Not anymore.” The Mayor pointed two fingers at Sebastian, a gesture for his men to open fire. In doing so he marked the Alderman for death.
But Sebastian wasn’t ready to die. His ego and rage had blinded him to the fact that he had exposed himself, making him an easy target. Now he was staring down the barrels of two semi-automatic rifles.
The gang members opened fire.
At the same time, Oliver dove, managing to pull him to safety behind a police cruiser. Pandemonium erupted as the officers opened fire, exchanging bullets with the gang. Having made his statement, the Mayor ordered the men to retreat. The truck screeched away, leaving chaos in its wake.
Sebastian watched in shock as Oliver took off to check on the crowd. The man he had always assumed would be his enemy had just saved his life.
* * *
The next day, Sebastian was on his way to Queen Consolidated when Officer Daily called him with an update. The night before, the Mayor, now identified as Xavier Reed, had been apprehended by the SCPD—or so the official story claimed. As with China White and the hospital supply thefts, many gave credit to the vigilante. Citizens of the Glades, in particular, were worshipping him like a hero, going so far as to give him a name.
The Arrow.
Sebastian had fumed over the news. It seemed as if the vigilante’s influence was growing lockstep with his own. Perhaps Isabel Rochev was right. “The Arrow” was a problem that needed to be addressed. Yet that would be a concern for another day.
The Mayor needed to pay for the chaos he had inflicted upon the Glades. It was time to show him what fear looked like.
“Reed’s arraignment will be this afternoon,” Daily said. “He’ll be most vulnerable after the proceedings, during his transfer back to lockup.”
“And you’re sure this can be done quietly?”
“He’ll just be another inmate, fallen through the cracks. Trust me, Brother Blood, no one’s going to miss this scum. He’ll be you
rs to do with as you please.”
“Good,” Blood replied, a thrill passing through him at the prospect. “We’ll see if Mr. Reed possesses strength enough to survive.”
“There’s another development you should be aware of,” Daily continued. “I pulled over Laurel Lance last night, for driving under the influence.” The news came as a surprise. He knew Laurel was under stress, but never would have pegged her for a substance abuser. She had admitted that her father was a recovering alcoholic. Perhaps she shared more with him than Sebastian had thought.
“You didn’t arrest her, did you?”
“No. I turned her over to Officer Lance instead.”
“Good work, Brother Daily.”
* * *
He arrived at Queen Consolidated to find Oliver standing at his desk, the mid-morning sun shining brightly through the windows.
“I guess it’s true what they say,” Sebastian commented. “One man can change the world.”
“I’ll leave changing the world to you, Alderman,” Oliver countered.
“I’m only still in the world because of you, Mr. Queen. Thank you.” He extended his hand.
“I was just acting on instinct,” Oliver said, taking his hand.
“It wasn’t instinct,” Sebastian said. “It was strength.”
Oliver smiled. “I see the signs and the graffiti. ‘Blood for Mayor.’” The mention elicited a smile from Sebastian. “Now that your crooked counterpart is in jail,” he added, “maybe you should run.”
“There is more than one way to save a city,” Sebastian replied, not yet ready to admit publically that he intended to run. But when that day arrived, having Oliver’s support behind him would make the process all the easier. For now, however, there were other matters to which he needed to attend.
* * *
Later that night, deep beneath the Glades, the Church of Blood watched as the mirakuru ravaged Xavier Reed’s body. Like the victims before him, he wailed to the heavens, straining against his restraints before falling silent, blood seeping from his eyes like tears. The men stood by, emotionless witnesses to the execution, the horror now old hat.
Brother Blood removed his skull mask as Dr. Langford and Clinton Hogue dragged away Reed’s body, his heels scraping on the sewer’s wet concrete. Blood then turned to Officer Daily.
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