Hogue knew the details of the plan. If the Arrow had allies, they might extracting that info from him.
Blood quickly stepped into the car and peeled out, headed toward Queen Consolidated.
* * *
Sitting in Oliver Queen’s office, Slade and Isabel looked out over the city, preparing for the destruction to come. They relished the prospect of sweet revenge.
Dressed in his sharp suit, Slade walked out the office and entered the conference room. There, he found a group of twenty men waiting—the convicts he had freed and given the mirakuru. Isabel wore her Ravager armor, and handed each of them a mask designed to echo hers and Slade’s. Split into orange and black halves and made of fiberglass, each one sported deep recessed eyeholes and breathing slits that lent them a demonic appearance, intended to intimidate.
Slade marched up and down the line of men, his movements slow and sure, giving them their marching orders.
“The people of this city viewed you as nothing more than rabid animals, in need of a cage,” he said. “Tonight, I want you to show them, they were right.”
The men grinned, filled with spite. He instructed them to meet Blood beneath the sewers.
“Spread yourself among the masses,” he continued. “Infiltrate the places they feel most safe—shopping malls, train stations, police precincts. Then, when the clock strikes nine, put on your masks and bring this city to its knees.” He stopped and looked down the line.
“Go.”
As the faction of men exited the conference room and headed down the hall toward the elevators, they passed Sebastian Blood. He stared, frowning, and made a beeline for Slade and Isabel.
“We may have been compromised,” Blood said breathlessly. “Brother Hogue has disappeared, and the Arrow may be responsible.” He peered directly at Slade. “Or should I say, Oliver Queen?”
Slade and Isabel gave each other a look. He could imagine what they were thinking. The idiot finally put two and two together.
“You didn’t feel that information was important enough to share with me?”
“What difference would it have made?” Slade answered. “Are you not mayor?”
“Well, for one thing, I wouldn’t have left my men so exposed,” Blood said. “Hogue wouldn’t be missing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Slade countered. “The Arrow can’t stop what’s coming. Now, calm down and continue as planned. Go lead your army out onto this night, and take back your city.”
Blood just stood there.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Blood?”
“No problem.”
“Good.”
Without another word, Blood turned his back on them. He would meet the fifteen soldiers in the sewers beneath downtown, commencing their assault at 9 p.m.
As he left, Slade turned toward Isabel.
“I want you to patrol the streets above our launch point. Also, assign some of our men to keep watch in the surrounding tunnels. If any of them find Oliver, they are not to kill him. Not yet.”
“What about his companions? Mr. Diggle and Felicity Smoak.”
“They’re yours to do as you wish.”
* * *
Down in the sewers, Blood arrived to find his mirakuru soldiers ready and waiting. Taking his mask from its case, he held it in his hands, staring deep into the skull’s sightless eyes. He paused before putting it on, reflecting on the cusp before waging war on the city. He would do so to honor the brothers he had lost. He would do so to fulfill his promise to Father Trigon.
He would save this city.
His resolve fortified, his strength summoned, he fastened the mask for what he hoped would be the last time. After tonight, after the siege, he would be able to affect change in broad daylight as mayor, not from the shadows as Brother Blood.
He turned to address his soldiers.
“Tonight we forge history,” he said. “Tonight we rise up as one, and take back this city. Because Starling doesn’t belong to the rich, the powerful, the corrupt. Not anymore. Starting tonight, it belongs to us.”
The group of men all roared in approval, their orange and black masks menacing in the low light of the sewer. Blood visualized the terror they were about to inflict on the controlling elite. Finally, they would feel what he had felt on the day the Glades shook.
“We will lead this city out of the darkness, and each one of you will help me. Because you are not just men. You are the most powerful weapons this world has ever seen, and when you fight together, brother to brother, nothing will stop us.”
The men roared again, their sheer physicality making their numbers seem twice as many. Then, with a wave of his arm, Blood unleashed them upon the city.
* * *
As Blood rallied the troops below, Isabel patrolled the streets above. Per Slade’s instruction, she focused her search on the areas of greatest vulnerability—structural points where careful, targeted detonations would drop the streets to the sewers below, pancaking their army.
Sure enough, she found Diggle attaching explosives to one of the support pillars. He was so intently focused on the task, he didn’t realize she was there. The din of traffic blocked out any sound she might make.
Launching herself silently, she kicked him to the ground. He grunted loudly and landed on his back, which pleased her. She wanted him to see her face, and know who it was that sliced his throat.
“You killed me,” she said, unsheathing her dual swords. “Let me return the favor.”
As she charged, Diggle scrambled to his feet, backpedaling and narrowly avoiding the arc of her blade. But she was relentless, charging him with swipe after swipe of her blades. Diggle reacted purely on instinct, narrowly evading her swords’ edges—until he ducked under her assault, and delivered an overhand haymaker to her face.
Infuriated, Isabel countered with a vicious kick to his abdomen, sending him sprawling backward.
“You can’t kill me,” she said.
“You’re not invincible,” Diggle said. Then, in one quick, continuous motion, he pulled a fighting baton from his jacket, flicked his wrist to telescope it outward, and swung for her head. But Isabel was far too fast, too strong. She parried, then countered with a sharp elbow to his ribs, hearing them crack. Another kick sent him spinning to the gravel.
“Do you want to save me some time and energy?” Isabel asked, stalking forward. “Then tell me where I can find Felicity Smoak. I’ve been aching to put a bullet in her smug little face ever since the day—”
CRASH.
Unheard over the din of traffic, Diggle’s van slammed into her, Felicity sitting behind the wheel. Smacked by the fender, Isabel was sent sprawling, her body rolling some twenty yards over the ground until it came to a sickening stop. It was a blow that would have killed a mortal woman five times over.
Yet Isabel wasn’t mortal—not any longer. With the serum in her blood and the armor protecting her body, the impact had merely stunned her. Shaking off the impact, she rose to her feet and began stalking forward, a thin trickle of blood flowing from the side of her head. Seeing her, Diggle jumped into the passenger side of the van, and Felicity peeled out.
Running. Like cowards.
21
Blood arrived at City Hall just as the first wave of chaos descended upon the city. Already his office was a beehive of activity. Panicked staffers worked phone lines and laptops, trying to follow the unfolding crisis. Emergency lines were jammed and live footage of the assault played on televisions throughout the office suite. The destruction emerged in real time, growing in scale by the second.
“Terrorists” in masks had appeared at multiple locations around the urban center—train stations, the theater district, the midtown power plant—even the sports arena. In each instance they exhibited superhuman abilities, and when they lashed out, it seemed to be with the goal of causing as much damage as possible, regardless of the cost in human lives.
“Starling General Hospital is preparing for possible casualties,” an aide called
out.
“Power is out south of Harbor Boulevard,” another said.
The sheer ferocity with which the inmates were attacking shocked even Blood. Each mirakuru-powered individual was an army unto himself, and their savagery was all part of the plan. He would be the calm eye of this storm, and the citizenry would look to him. Not a millionaire or a corporation, or even a rich brat with a bow. Him.
“What do we do?” another staffer asked frantically.
“We stay calm,” Blood said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Emergency personnel have been dispatched, and we’re in contact with the police department. We’ll have this under control… soon.”
His secretary rushed over, holding up the phone.
“Mayor Blood, the Governor is on the line.”
Blood strode through the bullpen into his office to take the call, giving his staffers reassuring looks on the way, trying to instill them with confidence. As soon as he answered, the Governor offered to send in the military—the last thing he and Slade wanted. His job was to keep reinforcements at bay.
But he was prepared for this.
“Governor… Governor,” Blood said. “Sending in the National Guard will only cause mass hysteria. At the sight of armed soldiers, people will panic all the more. We need to keep this local—trust our own police force. The incidents seem to be relatively isolated, and we’ll keep them that way. We have this situation under control.”
No sooner had he hung up than the district attorney stepped into his office.
“What is going on?” Spencer demanded. “There are men in masks, tearing through the city.”
“Yes, I know,” Blood said with measured calm, “and we’re doing everything we can. The SCPD special units have already mobilized.”
Spencer looked shocked. “You can’t do that. These guys are targeting high-density locations, where the most civilians could be caught in a crossfire,” she said. “Worse, these men in masks, they’re enhanced—strong, fast, and ruthless. It’s like they’re not even human.”
“Not human?” Blood shot her a look designed to make her feel like a child, afraid of the boogieman. “Kate, can you even hear yourself? Look, I know you’re scared, but you need to pull yourself together. Starling City needs both of us to be thinking clearly.”
“What are you talking about? Have you seen what’s happening out there?” She stared at the live footage. “How are you so calm?”
Blood followed her gaze, doing his best to dispel his own creeping misgivings at the sight of the rising destruction. He turned back to her, stepping closer, trying to reassure her.
“Because I know we’re going to get through this—and when we do, Starling City will be stronger and better for it. Can I count on you? I need you with me on this.”
She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to find the words. Her brow wrinkled in a frown, but finally she nodded.
“Good,” Blood said. “Then let’s save the city together.” He then turned his attention to Channel 52, where the information was going from bad to worse. The newscaster, Bethany Snow, looked ashen as she read her report.
“We’ve lost contact with our reporter on the streets, but we’ve had more than two dozen confirmed sightings of masked men attacking numerous municipal locations.”
Blood could feel D.A. Spencer’s eyes on him. He focused tightly on the television screen, but his thoughts were a whirlwind. If the havoc continued to escalate at its current rate, he would be hard pressed to keep reinforcements at bay.
“Officials are asking that citizens stay indoors while they try to get—”
The television went to black as the power cut out, the lights overhead flickering out, plunging the office into darkness.
What the hell is this? Blood thought.
Outside his office door, he could hear screams from the bullpen.
No, he wouldn’t—
Suddenly the body of one of his aides crashed through the double doors leading into his office. Spencer gasped as the body came to a rolling stop at her feet. One of the costumed soldiers followed the body through the doorway, lifted his gun, and targeted the district attorney.
“Wait!” Blood bellowed. “Stop!”
“No no no!” Spencer yelled, backpedaling, but the soldier snatched her up, putting her in a chokehold, increasing the pressure on her neck.
“Enough!” Blood shouted. “This isn’t part of the plan!”
“Sebastian?” Spencer gritted, struggling to breathe. Blood ignored her, stepping closer to the soldier, commanding him as he had the others like him in the underground tunnels.
“I am mayor of Starling City,” he said, “and I order you to let her go.”
The soldier paused, as if considering the request. Then, with effortless brutality, he broke Spencer’s neck.
Blood watched her body hit the floor.
“No.” He stared down at her body in shock, horrified. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“I don’t take orders from you,” the soldier said. He stared down Blood, as if daring him to object. Blood cowered, knowing he lacked the sheer power to combat the man. The soldier then turned heel and exited the office. As Blood watched him go, one thought raced through his mind.
Oliver Queen was right about Slade Wilson.
22
From high above the city, in the penthouse office of Queen Consolidated, Slade watched Starling City burn. Multiple fires could be seen, scattered across the landscape, each representing a soldier with mirakuru flowing through his veins. He reveled in the chaos and destruction—at long last, his plan was nearing completion.
Isabel joined him for the view.
“You look like you’ve been run over,” he said, half-joking.
“I was.”
Slade raised an eyebrow. He was met with a look meant to cut him off. Then an electronic bleep from his computer drew his attention back toward his desk. Like the SIIRA program back in Australia, Slade had enacted a search for the voices of Oliver, Felicity, and Diggle, hoping to eavesdrop on their telecommunications.
His search had turned up gold.
Isabel stood at his shoulder as the call sparked to life on his speakers. It had been initiated from Felicity’s phone, made to an unknown number—though the area code placed it in Central City, home to S.T.A.R. Labs. If Oliver had successfully fashioned a cure from the sample of mirakuru he stole from the centrifuge, it had to have been with their expertise.
“Hello?” an unidentified man said, picking up the call.
“Hey, it’s Felicity Smoak. Where are you?” It sounded as if she was using a speaker phone.
“Fourth Street, I think,” the man said. “I don’t know what happened. A guy in a hockey mask came out of nowhere and attacked my car. Please help me.”
The next voice was Oliver’s.
“Stay where you are,” Oliver said.
Bingo! Slade thought. Judging from the urgency in their voices, the unknown man had to be a courier—they had synthesized a cure! And the courier had become caught up in the chaos on the streets. He told them he was pinned under an overturned car, his leg broken, unable to move.
Slade pinged the call, pinpointing his location on a bridge in the middle of the city. Under normal circumstances, it would be a race to reach his location. But Slade had men powered by the mirakuru.
He called through the door, summoning one of his soldiers.
“Find him,” he said, and he gave the location. The man took off at a sprint, the serum giving him the speed he would need to reach the cure before Oliver and his team.
Slade smiled, feeling victory close at hand. Then he stood and walked over to the window again, gazing out over the fire and ash.
“They say Nero sang as he watched Rome burn,” Slade said to Isabel. “Now I understand why.” Then his voice became tinged with an unexpected melancholy. “If only Shado were here to witness this.”
“Who’s Shado?” she asked, and she looked confused.
Before Slade could answer, Blood tore into the office.
“What the hell is going on?” he said, his voice hot with anger. “One of your juiced-up jackboots just killed my entire office staff, and snapped the district attorney’s neck!”
Slade barely turned his head to respond.
“And?”
“And,” Blood gritted. “And I never agreed to this! You were supposed to call off your dogs.”
“That was your plan, Mr. Blood, not mine.”
“We had a deal.”
Fed up with the man’s insolence, Slade finally turned away from the window to face him. He stalked forward, closing the space between them until they were standing face to face.
“And do you feel that I’ve not lived up to my end of it?” he demanded. His proximity intimidated Blood, and he became desperate.
“Those are innocent people dying out there,” he said pleadingly. “You don’t need to kill them.”
“Yes, I do,” Slade replied, the rage within him finally erupting. “I made a promise to someone once, and I will uphold it.”
“So this really is all about you just trying to hurt Oliver Queen,” Blood said, as if trying to convince himself.
“I vowed to him that I would take away everything and everyone he loves,” Slade said. “And he loves this city.”
“But this city…” Blood argued. “It’s mine, too.”
“Not anymore.” Slade stepped even closer, and Blood retreated backward. “As of tomorrow night, it’ll be nothing but rubble, ash and death. A land only good for one thing…” He turned away and moved back to the window, taking in the view of the destruction.
“Graves.”
* * *
Sebastian paced behind Slade as news about the siege continued to pour in.
“The situation has intensified, as law enforcement officials struggle to contain this historic assault gripping our city,” Bethany Snow reported over images of masked soldiers overwhelming badly outgunned cops. Sebastian swallowed, tasting bile.
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