He turned a corner to find two startled employees, identified by their security tags as Caitlin Snow and Cisco Ramon. Slade unsheathed his sword and the two bolted, tearing down the hallway, their progress marked by the loud clack clack clack of their footsteps. He followed calmly.
“The longer the chase, the slower the kill,” he called out.
Snow and Ramon ran into a restricted area that was the home to the weapon prototypes. The young woman frantically looked around for something they could use as a weapon, while Slade’s own footsteps drew closer.
“Help me,” she called to Ramon, sweat forming above her brow. She approached a wooden box, opened it, and stared down at the contents, recoiling slightly.
“Please tell me you can work this thing,” she said as Ramon approached the box. He lifted out an energy rifle, hefting it with both hands, his eyes wide.
“I think so,” he responded, “and anyway, it’s our best shot. Get in front of me, so he won’t see it coming.”
Their voices were just murmurs as Slade approached the area, and his heart raced at the thought of killing. As he entered the room, Snow stood before him, unarmed and scared. The puissant Ramon was cowering behind her. Slade stared at her, whipping out his sword, ready to slit her throat.
“I take back what I said,” Slade announced. “I’ll make this quick.” As he took a step toward her, Snow ducked out of the way.
“NOW!”
Ramon was holding some sort of rifle. He pulled the trigger, unleashing an energy blast that knocked Slade to the ground, stunning him. Their footsteps resumed their din as the two ran out of the storage facility, finding safety.
Damn me, that was an amateur thing to do!
As Slade tried to gather himself, the blast echoed in his head. Then he looked up and saw it… the bio-transfuser, a piece of equipment more advanced than the QE centrifuge. Pushing himself to his feet, he eagerly grabbed the machine.
The hell with those two, he mused, his excitement growing. I’ve got what I want—come to Papa, baby.
* * *
Oliver was due to arrive at any moment, and somehow Isabel didn’t think he’d be late today. She sat behind her desk, preparing for the inevitable confrontation, when suddenly she heard a commotion coming from the elevator.
It was Oliver accompanied by Diggle.
She didn’t care to look up, instead focusing on her paperwork.
“Whatever you came here to say, it takes Security about sixty seconds to reach this floor,” she commented, “so if I were you, I’d start talking.”
“Where’s Slade?”
Did he honestly expect her to tell him? She smiled at the absurdity. Yet his response to her silence was… unexpected.
“I just wanted to give you the chance to do the right thing.”
“I’m under 30, and I’m the CEO of a Fortune 500 company,” Isabel observed. “I’d say I’ve already done the right thing.”
“Do you even know who Slade Wilson is, or why he’s doing this?”
“I don’t care,” she replied, still without looking up. “I got what I earned.”
“What you earned? You think that sleeping with my father entitles you to my family’s company?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Wow,” Oliver breathed. “He fooled around with a lot of girls. More than you can imagine. I don’t see any of them ordering hostile takeovers.”
That got her. She looked up at him.
“Fooled around?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that what your mother told you?” She gathered her papers. “Of course she would—she’d write me off as a meaningless affair.” Then she stood, marching away from Oliver and into the conference room. “Slade Wilson put me through hell. His training nearly killed me. Would I put myself through all that just because I was a jilted lover?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what you are!”
“I was your father’s soul mate,” she said. Oliver scoffed, and it infuriated her. “He was going to leave your mother, leave the company, leave you. Our bags were packed.”
“Really.”
“Your sister had to go and break her arm—doing something ridiculous, no doubt.”
“She fell off her horse.”
“We were at the airport when he got the call.” She walked around the conference room table, arranging papers for the upcoming board meeting. “I begged him not to go, and reminded him that Thea wasn’t even his.”
“Are you saying that my father knew?”
“Of course he knew—he was a fool, not an idiot. And like a fool, he loved her anyway. He promised me that we would leave the next day. But instead, my internship was terminated, and he never spoke to me again.”
“Oh, so that’s what this is really about,” Oliver said, his expression mixing understanding with incredulity. “He chose us over you.”
Three security guards pushed through the door.
“Please escort Mr. Queen off the premises.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“He’s no longer welcome in this building,” she said. “My building.”
She watched Oliver exit the conference room, her brave face faltering. He was right. This was about Robert choosing his family over her.
It always had been.
17
They picked an abandoned warehouse near Collins and Main. A cavernous industrial space. Slade and Isabel surveyed their newly acquired bio-transfuser—a collection of canisters, gauges, and cables, fastened to a large open metal rig with a digital display. Above it, bolted to a platform, was a medical-grade chair built in the shape of a cross. It was encircled by a halo of metal scaffolding from which plastic tubing hung, draping down toward the floor like tentacles. The tubing led to a series of IVs attached to gurneys, fifteen of them, arranged in a semi-circle.
Slade turned to the assembled prisoners from Iron Heights—more than thirty in all. Some were strapped to the gurneys while others hung back, waiting for their chance to become reborn.
“Now is your moment,” he said. “The people of Starling City have turned their backs on you, and this is your chance to show them you are not forgotten. That you will not go easily—that this is your city.” He paused for dramatic effect, then continued. “I am here to make you invincible—this is the moment where you all go from good to great.” Slade approached Roy at the center of the platform, fastened, shirtless, to the chair—still sedated, his arms held in place by four metal rings.
“Together we rise.”
At the end of each tube was one of the fifteen men. All were sedated, lying on metal gurneys, the IVs connected to their arms. The machine fired up with a loud hum. Blood—a dark, vivid red—flowed from Roy’s body into the transfuser, where the mirakuru was extracted. Then it was pumped via the plastic tubing toward the sedated prisoners, the liquid flowing green and incandescent into their bodies.
Great care had to be taken not to remove too much, too fast, thus killing Roy prematurely and ending his effectiveness as a source for the drug. Their calibrations had to be precise.
As quickly as it began, the operation was complete.
“What next?” Isabel asked.
“Now we wait,” Slade said.
* * *
When the Arrow arrived, nearly all of the inmates had been transformed. Thanks to the sedative, they were still unconscious. Slade, dressed in his suit and holding his sword, and Isabel, in her business attire, watched from the shadows. Slade was impressed by the vigilante’s resourcefulness in finding the location.
Too bad it’s too late.
When he discovered it was Roy hooked up to the machine, his body being sucked dry of blood, a look of horror swept across the Arrow’s face. He began checking the connections, and was about to pull a wire when Slade decided to reveal himself.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
The Arrow turned with a shaft nocked.
“Removing him in the midd
le of the cycle will surely end his life,” Slade continued.
“If I don’t stop it, he’ll die anyhow,” the Arrow said. “Slade, he’s just a kid!”
“A kid who’s here only because you pushed him away.” Slade’s voice rose. “You were the one person he looked up to, and for that, you crushed his soul.”
“We found him in a shelter in Blüdhaven,” Isabel said. “Pathetic. He didn’t even put up a fight.”
“Well, I will,” the Arrow said. “Tell me how to shut it down.”
“If you could feel the power that is surging through me,” Slade said, his fury building, “you would know that I do not fear an arrow. I am stronger than you can even imagine, and soon, I won’t be alone.” He used his sword to indicate the many prisoners who were receiving the mirakuru.
The Arrow responded by firing his arrow, not at Slade, but at a warehouse fuse box, temporarily cutting power to the machine. It whirred down with a dying hum. Then he fired a volley of arrows at Slade, which he easily deflected with his sword. Isabel crouched to one side and returned fire with her pistol, causing Arrow to dive for cover—away from Roy.
Murder in her eyes, Isabel stormed after him, still firing. The Arrow disarmed her with a flechette, knocking the gun from her hand. Without hesitation she charged him, using a gurney to launch herself into a wheel kick, driving him back. She let loose all the frustration she had bottled up, cathartic payback for Robert’s betrayal. She would kill what Robert held precious. The Arrow deflected her flurry of roundhouse kicks, and then delivered a punch to her face, knocking her to the ground.
Slade charged, knocking the Arrow violently backward into a pillar, breaking old concrete. Before the Arrow could recover, Slade grabbed him by an arm and a leg, then tossed him so that he landed with a sickening thud on the floor.
The arrow recovered quickly, rolling to his feet and nocking two arrows, pointing them at Slade, who just grinned.
“You can’t hurt me, kid.”
Ignoring him, the Arrow fired—but the two arrowheads were adhesive, rather than sharp. They stuck to Slade’s chest, and he looked down at the glowing heads, confused, hearing them beep. A countdown… Before he could react, the arrows exploded in a blinding flash, sending him flying backward.
Instantly the Arrow turned his attention to Roy and the vials of mirakuru, not noticing Isabel stirring on the ground. She struggled up to her feet as he unshackled the young man from the machine. Then she found her gun, picking it up and leveling it at Oliver.
The motion drew his attention, but it was too late to react.
She started to squeeze the trigger.
BANG, BANG!
Two shots rang out, the bullets hitting her square in the chest. Stunned, she looked up to the rafters, seeing Diggle standing there, gun pointed and smoking.
Isabel fell in a heap.
Slade struggled to his feet, still staggered by the explosions, unable to prevent the Arrow from firing a grappling arrow into the ceiling, steadying his grip on Roy, and escaping into the night. He saw Isabel on the ground, lying in a pool of blood. Slade picked her up and carried her to an empty gurney, hooking her up to the IV. He restored power to the machine, bypassing the destroyed breaker box. It whirred up again.
Then he took Roy Harper’s place in the chair, hooking himself up to the bio-transfuser, resuming the procedure, his blood now fueling his process. The unconscious Iron Heights convicts began to ooze blood from their eyes, looking like tears.
Then they began to wake.
It was the birth of his army.
But was there still enough time for Isabel? Had he started her on the procedure in time? Slade kept himself hooked to the machine, hoping to save her with his blood. Finally her eyes began to bleed—and then, she woke up.
Freeing himself, Slade stood over her, his fist trembling, the inmates surrounding him in various stages of wakefulness. Soon they would be his army.
He would be ready for war.
18
Sebastian Blood was on the phone at his campaign headquarters when Clinton Hogue, his old friend and bodyguard, opened the door. Moira Queen marched into his office.
“I’ll have to call you right back.” He hung up and stood from his desk, surprised to see her.
“Do you want me to stay, Mr. Blood?” Clinton asked.
“Uh, no, no thank you. I’ll be fine.” Hogue exited, leaving the two in privacy. Blood apologized. “My new bodyguard. He’s a little over-protective.” He pointed to his guest chair, offering it to Moira. “Please.”
“No, thank you.”
“I’d say this visit is unexpected, but I despise understatement.”
Moira cut straight to the point. “I’m dropping out of the race,” she said flatly. “I’m making a concession speech at my rally tonight.” His eyes went wide.
“But you’re ahead in the latest polls,” he said. “Even the most skeptical of pundits are saying you could actually pull this off.”
Moira waved the idea away. “I felt I owed you the courtesy of informing you in person,” she said. “I don’t, however, owe you an explanation as well.”
“No you don’t,” Blood said as Moira turned to leave. “But I’d appreciate one.” She paused, and he pressed. “What you’re doing, Moira, as much as it benefits me, doesn’t really make much sense.”
She paused, then spoke over her shoulder.
“It’s my daughter. At the moment she needs me more than Starling City does.”
“Well, you’re doing the right thing,” he replied. “I’m going to change this city, Moira. A new day is coming. A better day—for all of us.”
Moira nodded. “You really believe that, don’t you?” she said. “We may not see eye to eye on all things, but I appreciate your sincerity, Mr. Blood. I know you care about this city.” She began to walk again. “Good luck.”
With that she exited the room, leaving behind a dumbfounded Sebastian Blood to bask in his sudden, unexpected victory. He had come so far, from the orphanage to the streets of the Glades, to the precipice of his ultimate destination—the office of the mayor.
Could he really be this close to victory?
It didn’t seem real. Suddenly he was wary.
Moira seemed sincere, but she had made promises before, only to break them. Could a leopard like her—a predator by nature—really change her spots? He wanted so badly to believe her this time.
Did he dare?
* * *
His entire staff was there in the campaign office, watching the telecast of Moira Queen’s rally at Verdant. Sebastian Blood gripped his pen, counting the seconds until he could finally declare himself mayor of Starling City, and begin to affect true change.
“As the weeks progressed, good people such as you raised your voices in support,” Moira said from the podium, “and I began to think that I could make a difference. I could help save this city.” Then she paused, and there was a haggard look to her. Sebastian could sense that this was the moment. The hairs on his arms stood up, and his heart began to race.
“But recent events have changed things, and…”
Why are you pausing again? he thought anxiously. Just say it. He saw something change in her eyes. Confidence blooming. A renewed sense of purpose.
His heart sank.
“…and now I know I can make a difference.” The audience erupted in cheers.
It took all his discipline not to scream in that moment. He gripped the pen tighter, fighting the urge to crush it, staring daggers at the screen.
“Starling City is my home,” she continued, “you are my family, and there is nothing more important to me than family. Thank you!”
The staff left, confused and disheartened, and Sebastian shut his door, still fighting off his anger. She had done it again. Changed her mind. Always changing her mind, typical of the one percent, doing whatever she pleased, whatever stood to benefit her most. Regardless of the cost to anyone else.
He sat behind his desk and placed a ca
ll.
Slade picked up.
“Mr. Blood, I presume.”
“You said this was a done deal,” Sebastian growled. “That Thea would be enough. Why did Moira change her mind?”
“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
“Faith isn’t what brought me to the doorstep of City Hall!”
“No,” Slade agreed. “I am.” Something in his tone stopped Sebastian cold.
“Look, I appreciate what you’ve done,” he said, changing his approach. “But she’s more popular than ever. She’s going to win.”
“Dead women don’t win elections.”
“What are you going to do?” Sebastian asked, feeling the blood drain from his face.
“What’s necessary,” Slade replied. “Start writing your acceptance speech.”
There was a click and the line went dead.
* * *
Slade pocketed his phone and kept watch from the shadows outside of Verdant, Moira’s campaign headquarters. He saw the Queens exit the venue and enter a limousine. Moira, Thea, and Oliver had their defenses down.
“Are you ready, my love?”
Slade nodded, turning to see Shado. She stroked his face.
“Give him just a taste of the revenge to come,” she said.
As the limo pulled away, Slade climbed into his SUV, following and waiting until they were passing through the desolate area of the Glades, untouched since the Undertaking. Isolated from any intervention. Then he revved his engine and blindsided them, crunching the side of their car.
Making certain they were unconscious, he pulled each Queen from the wreckage, driving them to a field he had scouted ahead of time. He chose it for its uncanny resemblance to the Lian Yu forest where he had found Shado’s body. Where Oliver had made his fateful choice.
Slade would make him choose again.
He bound their hands behind their backs, arranging them as he imagined Ivo had done to Shado and Sara, when he forced Oliver to choose which life he held more dear.
“Is this like it was?”
“Perfect,” Shado said.
* * *
Oliver was the last to wake, and Slade reveled in the look of horror that appeared on his face when he recognized the scenario. Moira and Thea whimpered nearby, nearly hysterical from the trauma, having no idea what was about to transpire.
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