Arrow--Vengeance

by Oscar Balderrama

  “Kill him,” he said.

  Charging his enemy’s slumped body, Cyrus expected an easy kill. He was surprised when the vigilante suddenly leapt to his feet, his energy and determination renewed. Cyrus reared back and let loose a punch, but the Arrow avoided it, countering with a kick to his mid-section, followed by quick left-right, left-right punch combos to his throat.

  Cyrus tried to counter with a punch of his own, but he was too slow. The Arrow ducked, avoiding the blow, and spun into a roundhouse kick that sent Cyrus stumbling back toward the centrifuge. As he regained his balance, the vigilante quickly nocked two arrows and fired them into the machine, causing it to explode, sending metal shrapnel and liquid mirakuru flying in all directions. Cyrus was caught point blank by the blast, the serum reacting with the flames like napalm, covering his face and burning him alive.

  Taking cover in the shadows, Blood could only watch in horror as his loyal servant screamed in agony. Then chunks of concrete ceiling began to fall, damaged by the explosion, the debris crushing both Cyrus and the Technician under its weight. Two of his loyal brothers, gone in an instant.

  The sight left Blood staggered.

  Then he saw the Arrow watching him from across the room, and his survival instinct quickly snapped him out of his shock. He did the math—as much as he wanted to make the vigilante pay for these deaths, Blood knew challenging him one-on-one was a fool’s errand. He couldn’t risk being exposed. The mayorship was too close.

  With a heavy heart he dashed off, leaving the bodies behind.

  11

  In the back seat of a black car, Sebastian sat in silence, his mind going over the prior night’s events. The thoughts sent his adrenaline spiking, his heart pounding in response, racing in his chest. He knew he needed to accept the fact that his friend had died, but imagining a life without Cyrus was too hard to bear.

  I am the reason he is dead, Sebastian thought to himself. I allowed him to be injected with the serum. I used my friend as a weapon.

  He remembered days with his parents that he wished he had never been born… until Cyrus. He recalled the night that Cyrus found him on the street as a young, timid boy. Sebastian had been wandering around aimlessly for hours, feeling the despair. The man had saved him, and Sebastian had hoped that one day he could return the favor.

  The black car slowly came to a stop.

  Slade will deliver on his promise. Must pull it together—the city is about to be yours, he told himself.

  The driver opened Sebastian’s door as cameras flashed, blinding him. Sebastian shielded his eyes the best he could as he entered City Hall, was led down a long corridor, and guided to a backstage area. He heard the hushed tones of an audience talking, and swallowed hard, feeling his nerves starting to boil over. Breathing deeply—once, twice, three times—he reconnected his mind and body to the task at hand.

  “Mr. Blood, they’re ready for you,” an official said to him.

  Sebastian felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. He panicked for a moment and wondered if he was sweating through his suit jacket. He closed his eyes and took the moment in…

  …then stepped onto the stage and smiled to the audience before him. He waved his hands in the air, smiled, and they cheered as he made his way to the podium. It boasted a bright red-and-blue sign.

  SEBASTIAN BLOOD FOR MAYOR

  He straightened his tie, smiled again, and began.

  “Good evening, Starling City and thank you for coming out tonight,” he said, pausing to let the applause die down. “As many of you know, I am Sebastian Blood—Alderman for the Glades. What many of you don’t know is that I am a child of this great city. It has been the only home I have ever known, and it has been my lifelong goal to make this city—my city—better.

  “I want to take this time to officially announce my candidacy for the mayorship of Starling City.” More applause, and he waited, buoyed by the response. “My devotion to the city runs deep, and being a product of its streets, I care about nothing more than the people who live here. The people who deserve to be heard, the people who need to exercise their voices. I can assure you, I am not going to make anyone any empty promises.

  “My one goal is to serve the people of Starling City—not the men and the women who think they own it. Together, we can help rebuild our city into a place where there are no elites and no oppressed. A place where we are all brothers and sisters. A place that makes us a united front, a stronger city.

  “We are in this together!” Sebastian finished.

  The crowd erupted in applause and rose to their feet. Sebastian waved his hand, feeling alive. The support for him seemed unshakable—he was the man for the job. He waved to them, feeding off their excitement as he made his way off the stage and out of City Hall.

  Perhaps Brother Cyrus’s sacrifice was not in vain.

  * * *

  Sebastian’s high continued as he arrived at Slade’s office, yet as he entered the elevator, he was suddenly unsure about how the man was going to react about the events of the night before. The centrifuge had been destroyed, and Sebastian couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread in his gut, as if he had let Slade down.

  He told himself to remain strong, as Cyrus had taught him.

  The elevator rang as Sebastian exited cautiously and saw Slade watching the news coverage of his announcement.

  “Your campaign begins, Mr. Blood.”

  “This city needs a leader, and sending the copycat Hoods to assassinate the mayor was just the beginning.” He approached Slade. Take a deep breath. “The vigilante is alive—he destroyed the centrifuge, and the serum along with it.”

  Slade turned, and Sebastian saw the anger.

  “I will arrange for you to receive another sample of my blood, and you can begin to mass produce the serum again. But when I ask you… tell you not to confront the vigilante… you will listen,” Slade said. “Remember that your mask can be worn by another.”

  “Any mask can,” Sebastian replied. “Do you know who wears the Arrow’s hood?”

  “He is my friend,” Slade explained, “and killing him would be a release from this life, yet his sentence has yet to be carried out. I am going to tear away everything he cares about, destroy those who choose to follow him, corrupt those he loves. Once he has lost everyone and everything he values, I will send an arrow through his eye.”

  Sebastian swallowed hard.

  “I don’t care how this gets accomplished. The lives that will be taken will be just the beginning,” Slade added dryly. A sudden ping of pain shot through Sebastian’s heart as he realized that Cyrus had been disposable to Slade.

  But not to him. Against all odds, Cyrus had taken his serum and survived. Deep down he had been a good man, and it hurt to know that no one would ever know about all the great things he had accomplished. The media would only reveal that Cyrus Gold had been a thief—tarnishing his legacy forever.

  I need to turn this around, Sebastian thought.

  “The good news is that I still remain the favored candidate for the mayoral race,” he said with a small smile. “Last night was a minor setback, but we still seem to be moving in a good direction. Tonight with my announcement—the crowd, the city, they are ready for this change.”

  Slade ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair and swiveled his chair around to gaze out over the rooftops. His single eye sparkled in the outside light.

  “They have no idea how much change their city will see.”

  12

  While most people were out on their lunch break, Isabel sat behind her desk at Queen Consolidated. With most of her staff and her assistant, Theodore, on break, she took the time to do a little research on Sebastian Blood. She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d had about him since day one. Something remained off about him, and she was determined to dig into his past—specifically with regard to Zandia.

  Who are you really, Sebastian Blood? she wondered.

  She hit several dead ends with zero results, and started
looking into the murders in the Glades around the time Sebastian arrived at Zandia. Scanning website after website, she located reports of many shootings in the city, specifically in the Glades, but none of them indicated domestic fight, which was how Sebastian told them he ended up at the orphanage.

  There’s something there, she mused. Something we don’t know, and we dare not allow for loose ends. Yet before Slade would believe her, she would need to have evidence—incontrovertible proof. So as her staff returned from their breaks, she got up from her desk and donned her impeccable charcoal jacket. Her assistant settled back at his desk as Isabel headed for the door.

  “I won’t be back—I have business to attend to.”

  * * *

  “He’s hiding something,” she said firmly. “I know he is.”

  “Of course he is, Miss Rochev. Aren’t we all?”

  “I didn’t work this hard and get this far to have us go down on his account,” she pressed. “He’s lying, it has something to do with his father’s murder, and that means he may have baggage we can’t afford.”

  “Given the position he has attained, Alderman Blood has many friends, and probably twice as many enemies,” Slade said, taking a sip of water from his crystal glass. He set it down, and looked thoughtful. “It is curious, though, that the details are not lining up.” He sat back in his chair and reached for the newspaper on his desk. He scanned it, landing on a photo of Sebastian. In it, he was shaking the hands of the members of a homeless shelter, smiling wide and proud. Slade squinted at the image.

  “Being a woman of power,” he said, “you must have connections within the city government—persons who could help you obtain files on government officials—say, persons like Sebastian Blood.”

  “Perhaps…” Isabel said with a smile.

  “Make sure you’re not seen or recorded on camera,” Slade continued. “Let’s find out what the man behind the mask is actually hiding.”

  Isabel nodded. “I’ll be in touch,” she said as she picked up her bag and headed for the elevator.

  * * *

  Days later, Sebastian sat in the back of his black town car, reviewing the updates from the week. The polls were strong, and despite the fact that Moira Queen had thrown her hat into the ring—with surprising success—he imagined what life was going to be like when the city was his. In his mind’s eye, he saw everyone cheering; he couldn’t help but itch for the day to come.

  His reverie was interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone.

  “Alderman Blood here.”

  “Brother Blood,” the person on the other line said. There was too much background noise for him to tell who was speaking. He pulled back his phone to see a restricted number on the screen.

  “Brother Blood,” the voice repeated. “It’s Brother Daily.”

  “Yes,” Sebastian said, breathing a sigh of relief. “What’s up?”

  “Laurel Lance has been asking questions about you, especially around the precinct,” Daily told him. “It looks as if she suspects something is up.”

  “I know, my friend,” Sebastian replied. “She paid me a visit a few days ago, in my office. She wanted to know how I knew Cyrus Gold, and asked about my parents. But I can assure you that she was convinced by the answers she received. We have nothing to fear.”

  “I don’t know, brother. She came in this morning and I could overhear her telling someone how she went to Saint Walker’s yesterday.” He paused, and continued, “While her father is recovering, she’s likely to receive a lot of support from the cops on the force. Saint Walker’s has been a safe haven for us, and to expose it now would be catastrophic.”

  As Brother Daily’s words sunk in, a tightness gripped Sebastian’s chest. This was far worse than he had suspected. While he had been playing the part of the supportive friend, concerned for Quentin Lance’s health, she had come fishing for answers about Cyrus. If Brother Daily’s report was accurate, it was entirely possible that Laurel Lance was close to discovering who was behind the skull mask.

  “Thank you, brother, for bringing this to my attention,” he said calmly. “I’ve been a neglectful nephew the past few years. It is time I paid my aunt a visit, to see how everything is holding up at Saint Walker’s.” He cut the connection as the driver pulled up to a valet stand.

  Sebastian got out of the car and buttoned his suit coat as some of the local paparazzi snapped his photo. He smiled and waved his hand to them, when suddenly the camera lenses were turned in the opposite direction—toward the doorway of a restaurant. He frowned as he saw Oliver Queen exiting the establishment, yet he approached Oliver as the paparazzi continued to snap photos.

  “Mr. Queen, good to see you!” he said effusively.

  “Alderman,” Oliver responded. “What brings you here?”

  “A campaign luncheon,” Sebastian said.

  “How is the campaign treating you?” Oliver asked.

  “I can’t complain,” he replied. “Now that your mother has decided to enter the race, as well, I’m sure you see firsthand how difficult it can be.” He was careful not to show how incensed he was about the competition, and remembered the poll numbers.

  Oliver smiled. “Well, it’s good to see you, Sebastian—you take care,” Oliver said as he climbed into his car, which sped away.

  * * *

  Sebastian returned home after a late night visit to Saint Walker’s. His eyes were heavy as he reached his bedroom, pulled a briefcase from underneath his bed, and placed it on his dresser. He reached into his coat, pulling out the skull mask and a syringe—the one he had just used to inject Maya with an undetectable serum that would cause her heart to stop slowly, killing her discreetly.

  Feeling no sense of remorse for what he had done, he placed the items in the briefcase and locked them up as he got ready to turn in. Tonight, for the first time in a long while, he would sleep easy.

  * * *

  As the sun started to rise in Starling City, Sebastian wrapped himself in the sheets and slowly opened his eyes to see how much longer he would be able to remain in his cozy bed. He sat bolt upright when he saw Slade Wilson hovering nearby.

  “Slade… Slade! What are you doing here?” he croaked, trying to wake up.

  “Sloppy,” Slade said, holding up a file. “Sloppy work.”

  “What are you talking about? What is that?” Sebastian demanded as he rose to his feet.

  “It’s yours, Mr. Blood—the police file of your father’s murder, the murder you said was done by your mother as self-defense, before turning the gun on herself.” Slade let out a laugh, fake and unsettling. “We both know that is a lie. It was you.” Slade smiled. “Sloppy work.”

  Sebastian struggled to process what Slade was saying.

  “I have to admit I had my reservations about you,” Slade continued. “As I did my research on you I thought I had been thorough. I thought you were a boy in love with the Glades through and through, doing what you believed to be your part for the city, safe behind that mask of yours.

  “But this, this confirms that you are everything I need you to be,” he said. “A ruthless killer.”

  “I am not a killer,” Sebastian fought back.

  Without warning Slade dropped the file to the floor and punched Sebastian in the stomach. Sebastian fell to the ground, grasping his abdomen, gasping and coughing, sounding as if he wanted to retch. Slade grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Sebastian cried out in agony.

  “Regardless, your work is sloppy, Mr. Blood,” Slade said as calmly as if he was chairing a board meeting. “I should have been made aware of your history—especially as it concerns my work. And you have been sloppy again when it comes to Laurel Lance.” His voice grew louder, until he was practically shouting. “Now it’s up to me to clean up yet another mess, all due to your incompetence.”

  Sebastian’s eyes started to water from the pain. He knew that Slade would waste no time in killing Laurel, even though she was digging into his past. Her death would continue the c
ity’s spiral of violence.

  “Please, no,” he gritted through the pain. “I’m sorry. I can fix it, I promise, please!”

  “Enlighten me, Mr. Blood,” Slade said, releasing his grip.

  Sebastian fell to the floor, gripping his shoulder, his mind racing.

  “Laurel Lance is a drug addict,” Sebastian said, slowly rising to his feet. “She has shown all the signs of one, and I know for a fact she is medicating herself. We can have her arrested. Her name will be discredited. No one will believe her wild accusations, once she is exposed.”

  Slade paused, considering the new information.

  “You have till tomorrow morning to handle this situation, Mr. Blood,” he said. “This is your one chance, then I will deal with Miss Lance as I see fit.” With that, he left. Sebastian reached for his cell phone and jabbed a number.

  “Brother Daily, meet me for coffee in an hour,” he said, still grimacing through the pain. “We need to discuss Laurel Lance.” He cut the connection, then lifted up his shirt, seeing a black bruise already forming on his ribs.

  He rose slowly to his feet, knowing what he had to do to ensure that he never again received a house call from Slade Wilson.

  * * *

  Officer Daily took a sip of his steaming black coffee, followed by a bite of a pastry as Sebastian entered the coffee shop. Daily smiled as he joined him in the booth, but the smile quickly faded when he saw the expression on Brother Blood’s face.

  “Laurel Lance needs to be taken care of,” Blood said. “She’s getting too close, and it needs to end… tonight.”

  “What do you need from me, Brother?” Daily answered. “I’m here to serve you and the city—you know that.”

  “I need you to arrest her tonight in her apartment, on the charge of drug possession and use,” Sebastian replied, his voice low and harsh. “She has been using for some months now. It needs to be visible, but before she can be processed, we need to take her to the Starling City Cannery, drawing out the vigilante.”

  “How do you know the vigilante will come?”