Arrow--Vengeance

by Oscar Balderrama

  Thus the reemergence of the Vertigo drug would provide Isabel with the necessary justification to test the capabilities of the centrifuge prototype housed at Queen Consolidated Applied Sciences. The city would need to produce an antidote in mass, at which point, Queen Consolidated would step in. It would be a trial run—when the equipment was ready, it would be available to reproduce mirakuru.

  Picking up the phone on his desk, he dialed Sebastian Blood. It was time to check in and see how the tests were going. There was one more gift he wanted—the big one.

  He had expected to have his warrior by now.

  * * *

  “It’s been over two months,” Slade said. “Yet still no success?”

  Blood heard his tone, could sense his impatience. He stood in his lair beneath the Glades, four limp bodies tied to chairs before him, tears of blood running from their eyes. Again, no survivors. Cyrus Gold stood nearby, listening in.

  “Not yet, but I believe we’re close,” Blood said. “We just need more time.”

  “My patience wears thin, Mr. Blood. It’s time to step it up.” A click, and the line went dead.

  Blood looked up to see Cyrus staring at him.

  “My offer still stands, Brother Blood,” he said. “Allow me to lead your army.”

  Blood stared off into the shadows, mulling over his decision. Then he faced his longtime friend.

  “You believe yourself strong enough to survive the test?”

  “For this brotherhood, my strength is endless.”

  “Then when the next round of subjects is brought in, you will join them.”

  Cyrus nodded, his expression filled with conviction and pride. Blood grasped his shoulder in thanks, trying to share his loyal advisor’s faith. Then he turned and walked out the door, his next destination the Starling City D.A.’s office.

  * * *

  Sebastian fell into step with Laurel Lance in the City Hall courtyard, both on their way to meet with District Attorney Kate Spencer. The area was a flurry of activity, assistants and staff members sent into response mode after the kidnapping of Adam Donner.

  “I much prefer running into you at galas,” Sebastian said, sidling up to her. “There’s better food.” Despite the stress of the moment, Laurel smiled.

  “As do I,” she said with a sigh. “I heard Spencer summoned you.”

  Sebastian nodded. “The city’s in crisis. Without a mayor, she needs someone to talk to the people. I guess I’m that someone.”

  “You guess?” Laurel said, amused. “Somehow I doubt you’re someone who relies on guesswork.”

  Sebastian shrugged as they continued inside.

  “I’m just here to help.”

  * * *

  The television was on in Spencer’s office. Her expression stony and unreadable, she stood with Laurel and Sebastian, watching as coverage of the hostage situation continued. The newscaster urged residents to stay calm in the face of the Count’s threats.

  Unable to contain his nervous energy, Sebastian paced the room.

  “The Count has turned Starling City into a city of junkies,” he said, turning to Spencer. “Do you have any leads on where he’s holding A.D.A. Donner?”

  “No,” she answered. “The SCPD’s shaking down Vertigo dealers as fast as they can round them up—they haven’t exactly been inconspicuous—but none of them knows where the Count’s hiding.” A frown furrowed her brow, and she turned to Laurel. “We’ve got other concerns, as well. What have you got for me?”

  Laurel rifled through a folder. “Adam’s trial notes are very thorough,” she said. “We should be able to move forward… without him.” A pained look flitted across her face as she said it.

  “They better be,” Spencer said. “You’re lead counsel now.”

  “Ms. Spencer, you’re the District Attorney,” Laurel argued. She continued to leaf through the documents, and suddenly her face went ash gray.

  “Yes, but you’re the one that the jury knows.” Then Spencer saw the look on her face, and added, “You’ll do fine.”

  “I know,” she said, staring up from Donner’s notes. “That’s not it. I just found Adam’s trump card.”

  “What is it?”

  “Moira Queen was having an affair with Malcolm Merlyn.”

  * * *

  “Brother Cyrus, are you prepared to give your life for this brotherhood?”

  Cyrus Gold sat in the chair. The screams of his predecessors—Max Stanton among them—had not shaken his resolve. His fellows were gathered to bear witness. Each of them bowed their heads in respect, wishing him strength to survive, trying not to waver in their belief that he would.

  “Yes, Brother Blood,” Cyrus said.

  “Then let us both hope that now is not that time.”

  “I don’t hope,” he said. “I know.”

  The men locked eyes, nodding to each other, ready to go. Blood raised the syringe, the green fluid as incandescent as ever in the darkness, and plunged it deep into Cyrus’s arm.

  As with the men before him, he began to tense, his muscles beginning to spasm as the mirakuru worked its way through his body. Clenching his fists, he tried to fight off the pain, his vocal expression not so much a scream as a guttural growl. Blood began to seep from his eyes as his voice grew louder—and then he slumped, falling to silence.

  No! Brother Blood moved forward. No one breathed as the technician checked the preacher’s pulse. He shook his head. Brothers Daily, Hogue and Langford bowed their heads in reverence.

  Blood, however, was angry. I should never have let it come to this, he thought furiously. Not Cyrus.

  His mask hiding his grief and fury, he retreated to his office.

  * * *

  Slade and Isabel watched from the penthouse as breaking news emerged from the Moira Queen trial. Despite all predictions, she had been acquitted of all charges in her involvement with the Undertaking. Interviews from the street showed that the majority of Starling City was shocked by the verdict, an undercurrent of anger evident.

  The verdict itself, however, was of very little consequence. Slade had accomplished his goal—removing Assistant District Attorney Donner from the picture so that Laurel Lance could ascend to lead counsel, thereby putting her in direct conflict with Oliver Queen. It had been revealed that Moira had maintained an affair with Malcolm Merlyn, yet the jury had failed to look beyond the immediate implications. Moira, despite her protestations, had been more closely involved with Merlyn’s plans than she had been willing to confess.

  Thanks to Isabel, though, Slade knew something that hadn’t yet come to light, yet was potentially more damning—and thus of greater value. Malcolm Merlyn had fathered the younger Queen child, Thea. That revelation would fracture the heart of Oliver’s family, and cause him no end of pain. With the revelation of the affair, it was only a matter of time.

  Isabel paced the penthouse, furious at the verdict.

  “Acquitted,” she said in disbelief. “That woman should have been sent to the electric chair.” Her tone indicated that she relished the thought.

  “This changes nothing,” Slade said.

  “How can you say that?” Isabel demanded. “Moira Queen won’t stand idly by while I take over her company. This is terrible.”

  “This is an opportunity.”

  “Don’t give me that ‘lemons into lemonade’ bull, Slade.”

  “As I recall, you said you had young Mr. Queen exactly where you wanted him,” Slade replied. “Am I correct?”

  “We had a night together in Russia,” she said. “You expect that to trump blood? She’s smart, and she knows my history. She’ll figure out my intentions and warn him.”

  “You let me worry about that. For now, use your newfound connection with Oliver to create tension between him and his mother.”

  “I don’t know how you can be so calm about this.”

  He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Because I’ve been planning this from the beginning. Now, do you
have an update on the centrifuge?”

  “The prototype is fully functional and currently replicating the Vertigo cure in mass quantities,” she said. “Enough for an army.”

  “Then we wait on Mr. Blood,” he said. Abruptly he looked over at the television, and sat forward. Coverage of Moira Queen’s acquittal was interrupted by more breaking news. The Arrow Kills Again. Footage from outside Queen Consolidated depicted the body of the Count, splayed out on the cratered roof of a car, three arrows embedded in his chest.

  Slade chuckled at the image.

  “You see, Ms. Rochev?” he said. “He has revealed his true stripes.” He stroked his beard, pondering the news. If Oliver had rekindled his bloodlust, perhaps their fight would be a fair one after all.

  * * *

  Across the city in the Glades, Blood watched as his world crumbled.

  The loss of Cyrus Gold was still fresh in his mind. The Count being dead meant his plan had been a failure. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen when Officer Daily entered the makeshift office, closing the door behind him.

  “I arranged for the Count to take out the Arrow,” Blood growled, “and all I accomplish is reigniting the vigilante’s killing spree.”

  “Sir, there’s been a development,” Daily said, and he held the door opening, indicating that he wanted Blood to accompany him. Honoring ceremony, Blood turned to retrieve his skull mask, concealed in a wall behind his desk. Putting it on, he followed Daily out the office, into the subway below, and back to the lair.

  Cyrus Gold still sat in the chair—his eyes open.

  “Brother Cyrus,” Blood said, barely able to get the words out. Cyrus lifted his head, his tears of blood dried dark on his skin, black in the glow of the halogen shop lights. He looked up at his leader.

  “How do you feel?” Blood asked incredulously.

  “Stronger,” Cyrus said. As the meaning of his words sank in, Blood’s heart leapt.

  “Wonderful,” he said. “Then you’re ready.” He stepped away from Cyrus and removed his mask. Struggling to maintain his composure, he pulled out his phone and speed-dialed a number.

  Slade picked up on the second ring.

  “Do you bring me good news, Mr. Blood?”

  “Very,” Blood said. “When can we meet?”

  9

  Now that Cyrus had been empowered by the mirakuru, they could move forward to the next phase of the plan—stealing the components necessary to mass produce the serum, based on Gold’s blood samples.

  As Isabel listened in, Slade laid out the details.

  “You will direct Mr. Gold to acquire three targets. The first is an industrial-grade centrifuge located at Applied Sciences at Queen Consolidated. Ms. Rochev has ensured that security will be light.”

  “Try to keep the damage to a minimum,” Isabel interjected.

  “What, insurance doesn’t cover theft by super soldier?” Blood responded with a wry glance.

  “I’d rather not pay the premiums.”

  “Second,” Slade continued, “is a large supply of blood. Thirty thousand cubic centimeters of type O-negative. I’m sure you’ll know where to procure it.”

  “And the third part of this holy trinity?” Blood asked.

  “Sedatives,” Slade said. “I’m currently locating a source that will provide enough for our purposes. When I find it, I’ll be in touch.”

  “And we’ll be ready,” Blood said.

  “One last thing,” Slade added. “Mr. Gold is to operate with the utmost discretion.”

  “He’s brotherhood. Just as I have my mask, so does he. His identity will be concealed.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Slade leaned forward in his chair, closing the space between them. “There is a high probability that his activity will draw the eye of the vigilante. If it does, just as I warned you, he is not to seek confrontation.”

  “But if Cyrus is as powerful as you say, why shy away from a fight?”

  “I have my reasons.” He gave Blood a hard look. “Understood?”

  Blood clenched his jaw but nodded acceptance. “So when do we begin?”

  “Tonight.”

  Eager to get started, Blood headed off to dispatch Cyrus Gold to steal the centrifuge. As he disappeared behind the closing elevator doors, Isabel turned to Slade.

  “We’re stealing from Queen Consolidated. I’d say there’s more than a high probability that this will attract Oliver’s attention. I won’t be able to keep it from him.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  “You’re not concerned?”

  Slade sank back into his chair, a slight shake of his head indicating no. “The mirakuru represents a past Oliver has long thought buried. Seeing its power at work in Mr. Gold will haunt him, like a ghost come back from the grave.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right,” Isabel said, rising to leave, “so I can focus on dealing with annoyances from my own past.”

  “Moira Queen.”

  “I have a morning meeting scheduled with the board tomorrow. It would be just like her to drop by unannounced.”

  “I trust you’ll handle the situation accordingly.”

  * * *

  Early the following morning, Isabel was notified that the industrial centrifuge had been stolen. The news had to appear unwelcome—though that wasn’t as difficult as it might have been. In addition to taking the equipment, Cyrus Gold had torn through an incredibly expensive titanium security door and left two security guards dead.

  As expected, the break-in and its financial ramifications were the first topics of conversation at the board meeting. Isabel did her best to appear surprised by the news and mournful for the lost employees, before diving into the bottom line.

  “This is going to wreak havoc on our insurance premiums, and our security costs will shoot through the roof,” she announced. “We need to drill down on these numbers before the earnings call.”

  Just as she was about to move on to her next agenda item, she heard the door open and close. She looked up to watch Oliver and Moira enter the conference room. This was the first time she had been face to face with Moira since their encounter outside Queen Mansion so many years before. Though Isabel had anticipated this moment, she was unprepared for the flood of emotion and memory the woman evoked. She did her best to hide its effects.

  “Oliver,” she said. “I didn’t realize your mother was stopping by for a visit today.”

  “It’s not a visit,” he said, pulling out a chair for his mother before taking a seat of his own at the table. “This is her company, too.”

  “Of course,” Isabel replied, certain her fake smile failed to conceal her displeasure. “How are you, Moira?”

  “Back, Isabel,” Moira answered, delivering a fake smile in return. “I’m back.”

  Isabel saw a look in the older woman’s eyes, and recognized it from years ago. Hidden behind the polite sheen was a gaze that communicated, very clearly, how utterly superior she considered herself to be. A fiery rage boiled up, and Isabel wanted to rip her throat out. Instead, she remembered Slade’s directive.

  “Mr. Queen, may I speak to you for a minute,” she said, getting up from the table. He followed suit and she led him out into the anteroom and back to his office.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she said, carefully keeping her tone neutral. “What sort of message does it send to the investment committee, to the city, if we hand Queen Consolidated right back to your mother?”

  “She was acquitted,” Oliver replied flatly.

  “By a jury,” she countered, allowing herself to sound agitated, “but not by the city.” Then she paused a moment, pretending to calm herself. “Oliver, stop thinking like a son and start thinking like a CEO.” With that, she turned and exited, headed back to the conference room. On her way out, she saw John Diggle and Felicity Smoak headed his way, their expressions urgent. No doubt they were delivering news of the break-in, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

  Arriving
back in the boardroom, Isabel locked eyes with Moira for a long moment, letting her know she would not be intimidated. Then she addressed the board members.

  “An issue has come up with our Russian subsidiary overseas. I’m afraid we’ll have to adjourn this meeting and meet at another time.” There were nods and murmurs of assent, and as the board members rose to leave, she smiled at Moira, offering faux contrition. “So sorry you came all this way for nothing, Moira.”

  “Not to worry, Isabel,” Moira said. “I’ve got nothing but time. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.” With a smirk, she exited the room.

  Now alone, Isabel crumpled her meeting notes in her hand. How she hated that woman. One day, hopefully soon, Isabel would gain complete control over Queen Consolidated, and wield the power to kick Moira to the curb. For now, however, she’d be content with driving a wedge between her and her son.

  * * *

  A throng gathered in the orphanage’s playroom that afternoon, watching as Sebastian doled out holiday gifts to the children. Channel 52 was there, as was the Starling City Star. Unlike his last visit to Zandia, this appearance was completely staged by his publicity team, every detailed planned, even down to his jeans and rolled-up sleeves. It was meant to paint him as a leader of the working class.

  “So often on television, we’re asked to help children from around the world, in countries less fortunate than ours,” he told the reporters. “The thing is, there are plenty of children suffering right here in Starling City, particularly in the Glades.” He looked up to find Laurel in the back of the crowd, watching his interview. They smiled at each other, the chemistry between them still very much in play.

  “Thank you for coming,” he concluded. “Let’s get the word out. These kids need us.” The crowd of onlookers applauded and the reporters dispersed, clearing a path between Laurel and Blood. He walked over, happy to see her. She looked somewhat puzzled.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m glad you could come.”