Chapter 1: Unemployed

"My name is Oliver Queen. After five years on a hellish island, I have come home with only one goal. To save my city. But I have lost everything important to me, and I am no longer the Arrow I have strived to become. Things have changed; and I have to deal with the ramifications that have shifted my life and the lives of the people I love."

The wind whistled down the dark alleyway, ruffling the man's collar enough to force him to remove his hands from his deep pockets and adjust it. He checked his phone, to ensure he hadn't read the location wrong, and sighed in relief. This was going to be an important meeting; possibly making it the highlight to his career. If he didn't make this count, Bauman Industries would lose everything and his family would never forgive him.

Bauman Industries dealt in the destruction of other companies. Simply put – wealthy landowners paid him to bulldoze over bigger, more successful companies so they in turn could put up their own industries. And this meeting he was waiting for was with an esteemed CEO of what once was one of the most successful companies in all of Starling.

And Tom Bauman was going to bulldoze it for more money than he could possibly hope for. In fact, he could see it now: two penthouses for his daughters, and another large enough that would hopefully make his wife come back to him. She had divorced little over three months ago, and he had thought of little else since. This deal was literally his last shot to make her understand how much he loved her, and what lengths he would go through to get her back. Nerves swirled in his gut, and he yanked a smoke from his jacket pocket, lighting it briefly and taking a deep inhale.

"Keep a cool head, Tom," he reminded himself, sucking hard on the cigarette. "Everything will be fine."

"Tom Bauman!" a gruff voice erupted behind him, startling the man out of his daydream. He quickly stamped out the light and turned smoothly, prepared to meet the face of his salvation. But to his immediate surprise – instead of the wealthy business owner he had expected, he saw a dark silhouette standing not five feet away, his face consumed in shadow. A bright light lit up behind the figure, probably what was making it so difficult to see the face. Tom lifted a hand to shield his eyes.

"Mr. Hunt?" he yelled out, squinting and leaning his neck forward, in hopes he would see the figure's face more clearly.

"Every company you have carelessly demolished, you will pay for!"

The loud, yet slightly muffled voice startled Tom. Where had he heard it before? He swore he had, at least once. How could one forget that loud, yet oddly contained tenor that seemed to fill a person with the soundest of dread? It resonated as he spoke to Tom, vibrating at the base of his chest. But what the hell did he mean by "you will pay"? Sure, he demolished perfectly successful businesses so others could take over the lots and build their own, but it was his job. The last thing he had been paid to bulldoze was a string of orphanages in Rio de Janeiro. Granted, it meant that thousands upon thousands of parentless children were left without a roof over their heads, but at least he was ensuring his own wealth, right?

He cleared his throat and stepped toward the silhouetted figure. It was definitely a man. "Listen, sir, whatever you want, I'll gladly pay you for it. I have money, I do. But if you'll wait long enough for me to close a deal with someone, I can get the money and then pay yo-" but before he could finish, an arrow whistled past his ear and embedded itself into the wall behind his head.

It was then Tom knew who this person was; the famed vigilante of Starling City. Or, as was most recent, the Arrow.

"You…" he squeaked, unable to find his voice. Another arrow struck the wall again, this one just above the first.

"Who's paying you to bulldoze Queen Consolidated?"

Tom's throat felt as if it were filling with syrup. He couldn't speak.

His hesitation must not have please the Arrow, because another arrow sailed at him, just grazing his cheekbone and sending him stumbling backward, his back hitting the wall. Another arrow came then and caught his sleeve, secluding Tom to the wall. He found that odd, considering he could just slid his arms out of the sleeves and be free. But something told him the Arrow wasn't that easy to evade. He wasn't going to try it.

"I – said – who is paying you!"

Tom's voice cleared, then. Thank God for fear. "Ummm….his name's Callum Hunt. He owns Hunt Horizons."

"What do they do?" the Arrow prepared his bow once more.

Tom felt a steely taste on his tongue. "I-I d-don't know. I'm just paid to bulldoze. I'm never told what the businesses are, just pave way for them to put their offices somewhere. I just get names." And then, for some reason, he felt the need to say more, though he wished he hadn't. "It's how I make my business."

"Well, prepare to be out of a job, Bauman!"

One last arrow sailed straight between the man's eyes and blackness consumed him.

OoO

Felicity Smoak was busy.

And that wasn't exactly putting it light. Ever since Queen Consolidated had been bought out by Isabel Roshev; she had taken to working three jobs. Two of which she did not like. At all. The only job she remotely enjoyed was still acting as Oliver Queen's Arrow Girl (meaning she helped him track down baddies that liked to terrorize the city) but even that was proving to be difficult.

See, now that Oliver was no longer a billionaire, their funds had collapsed significantly. For instance, now that Felicity had little or no free time on her hands, she was finding it harder and harder to make time for the Arrow. Who would have believed being the concierge at Starling Hotel would take up twelve hours of her time? Besides, even after her shift there ended, she had to mosey on over to Sephora, which almost always gave her a splitting headache. It paid well, though, so she couldn't exactly complain.

Now, in the four hours she had off, she was back at the Foundry; tapping out a code and hacking into a government database so Oliver could track down their latest baddie, apply named Callum Hunt. But, seeing as they had to cancel the highspeed internet she had been using for the past year and a half, and bought something that was no better than dial-up, tracking down the guy was almost impossible.

She wanted to scream.

"Felicity!" Oliver's familiar shout made her jump and she swirled in her chair, aiming her sights on him. He looked as he usually did whenever returning from patrolling the streets of Starling: hood thrown back, eyes tired, two red lines lightly indenting the areas around his eyes where the mask lay, and his bow was clenched in his hand, a fine substitute to the neck that he clearly wanted to wring. Felicity knew right now that that particular neck was her own.

She took a deep breath, "yes, Oliver?"

He paused a beat, probably surprised at her calmness. A feel of excitement tripped through her veins, forcing a small smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. She had worked extra hard on schooling her emotions around Oliver whenever he got like this – angry teetering on the edges of rage. Whenever he reached the rage stage, he always managed to get her irritation rolling and then pretty soon, the room would grow heavy with tension so thick not even his arrows could penetrate.

But now, he was no match for her. She had managed to build a rock hard exterior around her emotions, and so far, it was working beautifully. She pushed her glasses up her nose and crossed her arms over her chest, keeping a firm stare on Oliver. Daring him to continue with the attitude. "I'm listening."

He swallowed visibly. "I lost sight of Callum."

Felicity felt a tightness in her chest, but pushed it down. "I know."

"So, what happened?"

"Crappy internet, that's what happened."

He faltered, his right hand tightening on the bow. "Felicity…"

She shoved away from her desk, then, and padded over to him, eyes blazing. "Oliver Queen, are you going to blame me for this one? Again? Because I implore you remember how that went down the last time you blamed me for slipping up. In fact, I dare you to blame me."

She expected him to do just that, too. Obviously, it was totally unfair for her to assume he would just jump down her throat, given all that they had been through, but who could blame her? She was stressed, and despite it being her day off, she was here at the Foundry, fiddling with a useless Internet connection in hopes of helping Oliver Queen maintain a secondary life of fighting crime.

But to her surprise, the young man set his bow down the table beside him and reached out, gently pulling her into a hug, his arms circling her tightly. Felicity's spine straightened in shock, then relaxed slightly, letting herself sink into the embrace, eyes closing. His body was warmer than she anticipated, an obvious side effect of running around fighting crime. It was definitely bound to work off steam. His chin settled atop her head and she rested her cheek against his shoulder, inhaling the rough, sharp scent of him that she could never quite put her finger one. It was a cross between oak, aftershave and…blood? No, it was coppery, but not quite like the smell of blood, it was sweeter than that. It definitely wasn't blood, because to Felicity that was highly unpleasant, and nothing about Oliver Queen was unpleasant.

As the minutes ticked by, neither of them displaying any sign of pulling apart, the sudden sound of a door opening and then closing made Felicity jump slightly, despite Oliver's strong grip still encircling her. Footsteps tap-tapped down the metal stairs leading down to the Foundry, and then the familiar voice of John Diggle interrupted the heavy silence that had descended upon the two.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Oliver released Felicity and stepped back, giving Dig an embarrassed smile. "Nope, you're not. Where've you been?"

Dig shot a nervous look toward her, before returning his attention back to Oliver, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Lyla had her ultrasound today; and she asked me to come, keep her company."

Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise and reached out to give his friend's hand a quick squeeze, never one for hugging. "That's great, Dig. Congratulations."

Felicity did like to hug, however, and threw herself at him, a big smile splitting her face, unable to contain it. "That's great news, John!"

She felt his large hand press lightly on the small of her back and stepped away, giving Oliver a tiny side-glance. He winked at her and plucked up his bow, carrying it back over to where it usually rested on it's stand.

Felicity moved back over to her spot, still reeling from Dig's news. She was actually going to be an aunt! Okay, fine, maybe she wouldn't actually be Diggle Junior's aunt, but hey, it was close enough! She had basically been a daughter/younger sister to John Diggle, and that meant being almost family to someone of his kin. She deserved that, given all she had done for him and Oliver.

Because that's not selfish at all, she scolded herself.

A glittery, fluttery, excited feeling remained in her stomach, regardless, and she found it very hard to get back to work fixing the worthless Internet. She sat herself at her desk, and picked up her tablet, unlocking it briefly before hooking it up to the three sets of desktops in front of her.

Okay, Smoak. Back to work, she reminded herself as she tapped out a series of codes, her brain working a million miles a minute. Pretty soon, she had immersed herself in her task, which was fairly easy when it came to computers. Technology was the one thing that didn't stress her out. Things like drug lords, crazed porcelain doll fanatics, assassins, they definitely jumpstarted the old nerves – but give her a bullet-laced, barely working laptop or an old system from the 70s that you think "No way that could still work" but low and behold it does, Felicity could do that with the ease of breathing. Unfortunately, that was easier said then done, especially when you were dealing with a system so slow, you swear a snail could reach China before the connection buffered all the way.

"Having trouble?"

She jumped in her seat, and turned her neck at whiplash speed, noticing that Oliver stood behind her. How the hell had he snuck up on her so quietly? She locked her tablet hastily, and twirled in her chair to face the young man, flexing her toes, thankful she had had the foresight to remove her heels. Sitting in those things was killer on her feet, despite the fact that "sitting" implied that she wasn't moving, let alone walking, it still hurt.

"Just…hating this internet, that's all," she sighed.

Oliver flashed his signature half-smile and reached down to lift her up off the chair, causing her heart to leap wildly in her chest.

"Uh, Oliver, what in God's name are you doing?"

"Tearing you away from your computer," he rejoined, reaching down to swiftly snatch up her heels. He shoved them at her chest and she stood there, confused. She chanced a look at Dig, who was sliding his arms through his jacket. "John? You in on…whatever this is?"

He grinned. "Yep."

Felicity blinked again, trying to figure out of any of this was a trick. So far, the fact that both Dig and Oliver were changing into jeans and shirts implied that they were serious. And Felicity couldn't help but smile. Was she finally going to get the day off she wanted? Because that would be fantastic. The fact that she had been laboring over that that damn computer all day made her feel incredibly worn out.

"Ready, Fel?" Oliver asked her, breaking into her hazy thoughts.

Felicity slipped on her heels and snatched up her purple jacket, hurrying after the two men as they exited the Foundry, unable to control the ear-to-ear grin that refused to leave her face.