This is my first Arrow story, and I'm not really sure if I'm going to continue it, nonetheless which direction I would go with the story, but this simple idea has been revolving in my head for months, and now, it has been stuck in my brain for the past couple of days and refused to leave, so I finally wrote it out, and I've liked what has been written thus far.

So, leave a review and tell me if I should continue this. I would appreciate it!

I don't watch Arrow anymore because, to be blunt, it's terrible, and a mockery of what had made the show so special years ago. Season 1 and Season 2 were absolutely superb, some of the best seasons for any TV show that I've ever seen, while Season 3 was pretty good (and by that, I mean the League of Assassin segments and Nyssa) except for some parts - Felicity, Ray, and Laurel. Season 4 is… it's just the worst, and I'm not even going to talk about that unbearable season. Season 5 did take some steps back in the right direction - Prometheus. With his character added to the mix, I sort of, but not really place it on the same level as Season 3, but Felicity and the new team kind of killed the season for me if I'm going to be honest. And don't even get me started on Season 6 - Ugh! I stopped watching many episodes ago, and I don't plan on returning to waste my time by watching the show; there are much better things for me to do.

So, needless to say, this is going to be an AU and I'm unsure if the other CW shows - The Flash and Supergirl, and Legends of Tomorrow - will be included really. We'll have to wait and see. So, without further ado, here's my take on the latter half of Season 3 after Oliver duels Ra's Al Ghul…

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show, Arrow or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would - Arrow wouldn't have become the joke that it did.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He had lost, and it was as simple as that. To his dismay, he had been beaten as if he were a clumsy child rather than the excellent fighter that he had been molded into from hardship after hardship. For all of his feats throughout the past years, he had mistakenly deluded himself into believing, truly believing that he could defeat Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head while continuing to live.

How wrong he had been.

Stories had reached his ears during his time away from Starling City, stories that had always struck awe and fear in his heart. Ra's Al Ghul was a name whispered with thinly-veiled terror through the mouths of thousands, with very few even believing that the man existed. Most had chosen to rather use his monstrous persona as a bedtime story for their children, forcing them to behave or Ra's Al Ghul would snatch them away from their family.

But Oliver had known the truth, he had always known.

Ra's Al Ghul was very real, as real as anyone, and he was staring the ancient man in his cold, dark, dead eyes. Oliver cursed Malcolm for forcing him to do this, vowing that should he somehow, impossibly survive this encounter, he would kill his godfather painfully, father of Thea or not.

"You should take pride, boy." Ra's Al Ghul's eyes shined with something. Intrigue, perhaps, or something else. "You've survived longer than most, if not all. It's a shame that you… murdered Ta-er al-Asfar. If things had played out differently, you would have made a most-prized horseman." The Demon's Head almost seemed thoughtful, even regretful, and Oliver had the split-second, ridiculous thought that his life wasn't about to be snuffed out by the most dangerous man on Earth. "Such a waste…"

Ra's sword was pointed at him almost lazily, but poise echoed through the man's body, clashing against the memory of Oliver's sloppy movements across the cliff. His mistakes might define his death, it seemed. Oliver had lost his own fortune because of his mistakes and he stumbled back, very conscious of the edge of the mountain, the scars littering his body tightened in warning as the howling winds alerted him to the fact that he was only several feet away.

The biting chill seemed to rejuvenate his spirit, energy filling his body as he stared down the Demon's Head. The snow crunched beneath his boot as he bent his knees slightly, preparing to roll to the side, away from his adversary.

Ra's Al Ghul smiled slightly, and it confused Oliver. "I see that you truly are a warrior, boy. You refuse death, you fear its cold embrace, and you would do anything to stave off its inevitability. You would battle me even though it is hopeless. That is something, believe it or not, that I respect; it is most rare and pleasurable to discover. My daughter was correct: you are much like the stories that she had heard of her father during her childhood."

Rage swelled in his heart, disgust mingling within at the thought of Ra's Al Ghul, the murderer of thousands, perhaps millions of people, respecting and praising Oliver, smiling at him for being like himself. The fury scorched through his blood, making his body shiver as the Demon's Head was right.

Oliver didn't want to die, not at all.

He had triumphed over so much; he had forged his once-dainty body into a living, breathing weapon. He had killed people unforgivingly during his time away from home so that he could live, and if he was honest with himself, he would go back in time and do it all over again if it meant that he could still live. He didn't regret it; he was saddened by it, but not regretful. After all, he had so much to live for now. Before his return, he had had nothing, yet he had fought on, refusing to fall into death's releasing embrace. Once he had returned to Starling City and become the 'Arrow', he had Thea, Diggle, Roy, Laurel, and Felicity to care for. He had his city to live for and, in the unlikely situation, die for.

Now, he was on the brink of death's door because of Malcolm's machinations and the Demon Head's sword that Ra's had effortlessly plucked out of Oliver's own hands. Self-loathing swirled in his mind; he had always been mocked by Slade on the Island because of his unwillingness to train properly with a sword. And it seemed that his unwillingness to train with the blade would be the catalyst for his death.

Now, looking back, Oliver realized that it was laziness that had stopped him from training with the sword. Once Shado, poor, sweet, innocent Shado had introduced Oliver to the bow and arrow, he had been hooked - it was a way to honor Yao Fei's memory and plus, it had been so easy, too easy to learn.

Sword training had always been so difficult, and he had struggled with it until he eventually quit like a child, refusing to work hard to get better, to become skilled. He had acted just like before the island, wanting everything served to him on a damned silver platter.

Never again would he be lazy!

Adrenaline abruptly fueled his body with strength, and with a blur of his right arm, he smacked Ra's sword away from his face with his own blade. The Demon's Head easily recovered, apparently not at all surprised, and Oliver jabbed the man's hand down once again, following with a blinding punch towards Ra's exposed face, triumphing in the feel of bones cracking. Then, he wrenched the shoulder down, twisting it brutally, tearing tendons and muscles alike as Ra's sword dropped from his suddenly numb fingers.

Oliver looked over Ra's Al Ghul's kneeling form, prepared to drive his sword through the man's skull, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nyssa, beautiful, fiery Nyssa step forward, disbelief carved into her attractive face. Oliver paused, suddenly remembering when he had been forced to watch as Slade murdered his mother right in front of him and Thea on that damned night. He remembered the horror, the guilt, and the sorrow that had poisoned his heart, breaking his mind, his spirit.

He didn't want that for Nyssa, the only person who he sometimes felt could actually understand him in his life on the rare times when he had spoken with her. If he killed her father, would she try to kill him? His gaze fully settled on her for a split-second and with a start, he realized that behind the disbelief in her face, her eyes glowed with relief, and with hope.

His eyes widened minutely as he realized that Nyssa… she wanted Ra's dead, yearned for it even. He could see it in her eyes - she feared her immortal father and wanted out from under his seemingly divine thumb.

Decision made, Oliver swung his sword downward, aiming to sever Ra's head from his shoulders, but the man rolled to the side agilely, as if he were Oliver's own age instead of what the legends claimed his age to be. Oliver stumbled and raised his sword again, roaring as he sought to plunge it into Ra's now-standing body. But in a blur of motion, almost imperceptible, Ra's Al Ghul caught the blade between his fingers before it sliced his head in half, dark eyes blazing with something akin to glee, and before Oliver could overcome his absolute shock, Ra's other hand shot upward in a blinding jab to Oliver's throat, crushing his larynx.

Oliver's numb hand slipped from the sword as Ra's pulled it away, clawing at his throat in a desperate attempt to fix what was unfixable. Surprisingly, there was no pain in his throat, but a sense of wrongness, an empty feeling that restricted his breathing. A searing pain spasmed in his side as Ra's narrowly jammed the sword through his side, only a few inches deep.

He could do nothing as Ra's paused there, holding the blade between inside his skin, ruminating over something. Oliver greedily, desperately tried to breathe, but it began to grow more painful with every passing breath; only thin streams of divine air entered his lungs. He tried to speak, but his voice box was mangled, irreparable.

Suddenly Ra's twisted and smashed his elbow into Oliver's face, breaking his nose loudly, the crunching sound echoing throughout the cliff. The Queen scion fell to his knees, pain everywhere, flashing sporadically as he finally accepted that his death was only, and simply, the inevitable.

His vision tunneled and he saw Nyssa standing next to Maseo, both of them tense in the realization that he was going to die, and there was nothing that they could do to stop it. Oliver kept his pain-filled eyes on her, apologizing for everything. For siding with Malcolm over believing her as his hate for Malcolm blazed in his eyes just as it blazed in hers. He felt relieved that they understood each other at that moment; each moment when their heart beat, it reminded them that Malcolm's heart still beat, bringing life to the one who they would never forgive. His eyes apologized for his failure, his inability to defeat her father. Most of all, they shined with his remorse over letting Sara's true killer – Malcolm! – continue to live. He tried to speak the words, but they wouldn't pass because of his crushed larynx. He shuddered in relief as she seemed to understand, nodding her head; it was a strange look that crossed over her face.

His gaze drifted to Maseo and he apologized for Akio, poor, lively, kind-hearted Akio. Oliver had been too late to save his friend's son, and he had died painfully as a result of his weakness. Maseo's lips parted and he swallowed, a sheen of tears shining in his eyes.

Ra's seemed to be able to understand the exchange between him, his daughter, and Maseo – or Sarab. The Demon's Head tilted his head, pursing his lips, "Do not be afraid, my son." He stepped closer, understanding and respect gleaming in his cold eyes. "Death comes for us all," he leaned down until his breath ghosted over Oliver's ear. The Queen scion didn't even try to summon the strength to shove the Demon's Head off the mountain - he was too tired, too pain-ridden. "We can only evade it for so long, even for one… such as me." Ra's Al Ghul stood to his full height, looming over Oliver as death's incarnate.

Oliver's eyes followed the man's movements, feeling a calm that he hadn't felt in years descend on his mind. His mind flashed to the past, to the memories of the Island, his true home. One of the biggest, if not the biggest regret in his life was that of his failure to save Slade, his brother. He had been too grief-filled to reveal the truth to his friend all of those years ago, allowing Sara to convince him that it was Ivo who had killed Shado, but he had always known that it was his own fault. It didn't matter that he hadn't been able to do anything; he should have tried something prior and changed it all.

His eyes were drawn to the sword in Ra's hand and he mentally apologized to Slade, hoping that somehow, his remorse would reach his old friend's ears locked away on Lian Yu.

Now his sins had caught up to him, condemning him for his actions. The truth was blinding in the form of the Demon's Head. He had never been a hero as Diggle and Felicity believed. No. He had played at being a hero knowing that, deep down, it was all an amazing, whispered lie. His schoolboy heroics were redundant and had gotten him nowhere; the mercy that he had shown was illogical.

A hand gripped his chin and pulled it up, connecting Oliver's eyes with Ra's. "Things could have been different in another reality, boy. But… consider this an honorable exit from this life." Ra's blurred forward as Oliver gasped out as the sword was plunged into his chest, tearing through skin, muscles, organs, and bones. He felt no pain, oddly enough, only cold. He could feel his right lung fill with blood, making it even harder to breathe through his maimed throat.

His vision began to dim as bright, red blood streamed out of his wound, staining the sword currently shoved through his chest. Ra's began to gently murmur – and he even detected sorrow in the Demon's Head's voice – something in what Oliver suspected to be Arabic, but he didn't struggle. Rather, he accepted it as he felt death calling. At least, he had finally done something right for once - Thea would be unharmed and hopefully, through John and the others' assistance, she would distance herself away from Malcolm.

One last time, his lidded eyes sought out Nyssa's and he was relieved to see no anger shining in her orbs, no indignation at his choice to fight Ra's. Rather, it seemed that she knew that he hadn't killed Sara, that it was all a grandiose deception. Maybe, she could kill Malcolm for him once he died, ripping that bastard out of Thea's life.

Just as the darkness filled his vision, Ra's Al Ghul's boot smashed into his chest with bone-breaking force, flinging him off the mountain, blood-slick sword sliding out of his body. The last feeling that he could discern was the chilled wind battering his body relentless, tearing into his flesh.

Then, nothing.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The bitter cold swirled around the cliff, seemingly celebrating the death of Oliver Queen, but it was the only one. While Sarab and his daughter focused on securing the weapon boxes and arranging transportation back to Nanda Parbat, Ra's Al Ghul stared out over the cliff, into the foggy-darkness of the winter-stained mountain.

His daughter's face was set in a cold mask of indifference, but he could see the anger that burned in her eyes - eyes that reminded him so much of her mother - undoubtedly because she hadn't been the one who ended the boy's life, avenging her forbidden-lover, Ta-er al-Asfar. Ra's had never approved of his daughter's sinful relationship with Sara Lance, and he cursed the day when he had tasked Nyssa with setting foot on Lian Yu.

The death of Ta-er al-Asfar had been fortuitous with his plans in spite of the migraine-inducing quarrels that had arisen with her demise. For some time, he had noticed that his time in this world was soon to be over, and a new, worthy Demon's Head must be groomed to take his place as his successor. The Lazarus Pits were losing their potency on his body, foreshadowing his imminent death in what he could discern, probably around a decade or so.

The time to consider the future of the League of Assassins was imperative.

Sara Lance was an unspeakable weakness in his daughter's life, and he had planned for her death for many months, deciphering his options on how the blame would not fall on his shoulders by his daughter's hands. Thankfully, her demise by whoever it was who Oliver Queen had been protecting had led to his hands being clean from judgment.

But since Ta-er al-Asfar's demise, Ra's had observed his daughter's devotion to a dead woman; he had seen how it had clouded Nyssa's judgment, showing that she was inadequate for the ascension to the title of Ra's Al Ghul. He would need to find a new heir, a worthy heir to bear his mantle of power.

Oliver Queen had, in his eyes, been worthy. The boy was young, a lot younger than what Ra's had originally believed. How could a boy not even 30-years-old defeat his old horseman, Al Sa-Her, easily one of the finest warriors who he had trained in his long life? Then, to Ra's amazement, the boy had triumphed over Slade Wilson, a man consumed by the power of the Mirakuru.

He dimly noticed Sarab close the weapons' box and await a command, but Ra's ignored him, mentally replaying the fight between him and the boy. It was an unmatched bout, just as every fight was when Ra's participated. He had lived a thousand lives, killed thousands of men, and before his time had ended, he would kill a thousand more. And yet despite everything, the boy, who held no formal League training – although Ra's suspected that his eldest, exiled, failure of a daughter had been a brief teacher to Oliver Queen – had lasted longer than anyone who Ra's could recall in combat against him except his old friend. The boy had injured him, the Demon's Head quite grievously. He had been forced to use Lazarus Pit water to heal his body, for the boy had torn several of his shoulder ligaments, tendons, and muscles. Oliver Queen had fractured several bones in his face from a single punch! It was simply incredible, unheard-of.

It had been a shame, a waste to discard such potential.

The death of Oliver Queen had given him no pleasure or joy, but a blood debt had had to be paid. The tradition demanded it, yet perhaps, there was a way around it. Ra's remembered the prophecy murmured by his predecessor as he died: 'He who survives the sword of Ra's Al Ghul, will become Ra's Al Ghul.' Thinking over the words to the true prophecy, he realized something.

The prophecy didn't specify how one had to survive. The Lazarus Pit could easily be utilized to allow Oliver Queen to survive Ra's sword. Perhaps, with the inner strength, fortitude, and power that Ra's had sensed in the boy, Mr. Queen would survive without the Lazarus Pit, narrowly hanging onto life at the bottom of the mountain. Either way, the end result would be the same: Ra's would finally have his worthy heir.

He felt a rare smile curve across his lips, and he abruptly turned around; his smile faded as he gazed at Sarab and his daughter. Both were the greatest Shadows who he currently possessed among his legions, but they had already reached their fullest potential.

Whereas, the boy had not.

Ra's Al Ghul sensed that Oliver Queen's inherent potential had barely been brought to the surface, and he intended to help the boy reach that brilliant, glorious, destiny-given potential.

"I want you both to find Oliver Queen's body and bring it to me." Ra's informed the two after several moments; he stared at them intently, watching for any signs of hesitation on their faces. Sarab twitched and Ra's knew that he had made the correct decision in sending both of them to fetch the boy's body. Sarab's old life might take over, destroying the boy's body in what he would perceive as an act of mercy. Nyssa would make certain that Oliver Queen's body would be brought to him. He had heard her temper about the boy enough times to know that his daughter hated him; she would not disobey him for something such as this. "This is your only mission, and it will be indefinite until you recover the body. I don't care if it takes you months or even years. You will bring me Oliver Queen's body, alive or dead."

Both kneeled before him, nodding their heads in unison. "Your will be done, my liege."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Nyssa followed Sarab's form as they traveled down the perilous terrain of the mountain, biting wind tearing through their armor and clothes, chilling their blood. Their descent was slow, hesitant for one wrong step, and they would both die. The heavy, blinding-white snow crunched beneath their boots, gifting them traction as they stumbled across the thin crevices.

A deathly stillness plagued across the area, so far removed from any civilization, and no animal dared tread upon the deadly, narrow ledge. It was Mother Nature at her peak power; howling gales battered into ancient stones relentlessly, shaking the mountain itself with its mighty blows. Crystal white snowflakes danced in the air merrily, seeming to mock them as they struggled through the terrain.

She glanced at Sarab and noticed that he had abruptly stopped in his tracks and began to shake badly, and it didn't seem to be from the cold. The wooden cot that Oliver Queen's body was to be laid upon fell from his grip, smashing against the snow with numb force. She found herself concerned, afraid that he might collapse.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She demanded, glancing at the ground, trying to discern how much further until they could safely find shelter from the weather. "Do you see anything?"

Sarab shuddered and to her shock, fell to his knees, body quivering as strange sounds like those of a sob escaped his throat. "Oliver, my- my friend," he choked out sorrowfully, pure guilt and remorse poisoning his tone. Nyssa was about to reprimand him, wondering why Sarab would be so upset about Oliver Queen's death and why he would call the man his 'friend' when she saw it.

The crevice that they were narrowly balanced on opened up several yards ahead, creating an almost perfect, many-meters-wide circle. There, between two pine trees sporadically peppered with snow, a broken body laid in a perfect, beautiful resting place.

Nyssa's lips parted and her breath shuddered, coming in short pants. She had known that Oliver Queen was already dead, had known it since the moment when her father had accepted the man's outrageous challenge. Watching as her father had mercilessly toyed with the man who she had, in spite of everything between them, come to respect, had sickened her, leaving her unable to do anything as her father plunged his sword through Oliver's chest and flung his body off the mountain, throwing the sword into the ground nonchalantly.

She had known, and come to terms with Oliver's imminent demise, but... it was another thing to see his corpse. She had killed many people and seen many rotting corpses, but the sight of Oliver Queen's too-still body filled her own mind with something in which she couldn't name or even define.

Sarab stumbled forward, feet slipping through the snow and Nyssa lurched forward, managing to avoid the fallen bed, and gripped his shoulder to keep him from plummeting to his death. "What is wrong with you?" She hissed, unable to keep her own emotions from coloring her tone, "There is nothing that you can do for him! Why would you even want to?"

"I didn't wish for this," her father's horseman shuddered out, the words tumbling out of his lips. "I had- I had prayed for the opposite outcome, but…" he trailed off as he wept, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Nyssa's eyes widened at Sarab's admission. So, she wasn't the only one who desired for Ra's Al Ghul to perish. She could easily report the treachery to her father and rid herself of competition within the League, but she wasn't going to because when the time came, she would need all the support that she could acquire to ascend to kill the current Demon's Head. Despite contrary belief, she wasn't naive to her father's wishes. She knew that he desired a male heir above all else, and that he viewed her as a disappointment. She also knew that when she had pursued her relationship with Sara, she had forsaken any slim chance that she had had to ascend to her father's throne upon his death.

Sarab seemed to compose himself somewhat, and he approached Oliver's body slowly. Nyssa followed him, keeping her eyes from gazing at the broken body. She didn't know why, but the thought of staring at Oliver's dead body filled her with dread.

Her companion's boots crunched as he kneeled in the snow next to Oliver's body, and Nyssa, after several moments, finally looked as Sarab spoke. "I had no desire to see you fall, my friend… I'm so sorry, Oliver," he whispered, and Nyssa began to realize that, somehow, the two men had known each other.

She found her eyes wandering Oliver's body, swallowing as the signs of her father's deadly power were more than visible. The snow beneath his corpse was stained red; chunks of what looked like part of a lung were smudged in the flurries of snow. Oliver's skin was as pale as the snow wrapped around his body. His wounds were grotesque and seemed to be in the beginning stages of decomposition, starting the process to rot. Full, dead lips were blue, and Nyssa swallowed as she saw his crushed larynx up close. Even if Oliver had miraculously survived the fall, he would have coveted death, begged for it. The pain that he must have suffered in his final moments fully softened her heart towards the man who had sided with Malcolm Merlyn.

Nyssa shook her head, refusing to think about that lying bastard for now. All that mattered was that they retrieved Oliver's body and brought it to Ra's Al Ghul, but neither she or Sarab moved, unwilling to do as her father had ordered.

Before she realized what she was doing, Nyssa lowered herself to her knees, and placed her gloved hand on Oliver's chest, over the wound that had snuffed out a great man's life. She noticed that he looked at peace and she hoped that he truly was; she envisioned that Sara had welcomed Oliver with welcome arms into the afterlife.

Her eyes traced over the myriad of scars decorating his body and she was amazed at the hardships that must have forged Oliver Queen from a playboy into a warrior who had rivaled herself, one who had the blood of Ra's Al Ghul flowing in her veins.

Suddenly, Sarab bolted to his feet and pointed his sword at her neck before she could react. She didn't dare move, furious at herself for becoming distracted, but knowing that Sarab, for whatever reason, was grief-filled.

"What do you think are doing?"

"I'm going to save him," her father's horseman huffed out, his voice raw with emotions. "I'm going to bring him back to life."

Nyssa shook her head minutely, keeping her voice level, "And how, pray tell, are you going to accomplish that, Sarab? You heard Ra's Al Ghul, did you not? He wants Oliver Queen's body for a reason that I know not. The Lazarus Pit is deep in the heart of Nanda Parbat. Oliver Queen is dead, and there is nothing that you can do to bring him back."

"He would have done the same for me. I must try to bring him back."

"Why? Why is this so important to you, Sarab?"

"Because he's my friend."

Silence. Cold. Snow.

After several moments, Nyssa swallowed. "You knew him."

"Yes... He's my friend."

"Why are you going to kill me?" She asked softly, wondering if she could catch him off guard by batting the blade aside, but that seemed highly unlikely given how tense Sarab was. "Surely you know the consequences of such an action."

Her potential killer's mouth thinned, frowning with remorse. "I can't have you stopping me from saving him, Nyssa."

Raising an eyebrow, Nyssa remaining calm despite the sword mere inches from her throat. "And if I had no desire to do so? What if my goals were aligned with your own?"

Sarab's sword wavered and Nyssa swiftly, in a blurred motion, rolled backward, jumping to her feet in one smooth movement, sword pulled from its scabbard.

After several seconds of a tense stand-off, Nyssa slowly dropped her sword to the ground, snow exploding outward in a mini shower of white powder. "I do not want to fight you, Sarab," she said slowly, knowing that the man was currently unhinged with grief. "In fact, I want to help you."

"Why?"

Nyssa licked her lips, and for the first time in her life, verbally acknowledged her yearning for her father to die. "I want Ra's Al Ghul to cease to exist, to- to die. I cannot… keep living under his immortal… heel." Desperation colored her tone and she cursed herself for showing such weakness against her potential killer. "How I have lived… that has not been living."

Sarab breathed deeply and sheathed his weapon and Nyssa almost sighed in relief. "Come, I know a place where we can potentially revive him." He dipped down, and with a grunt of effort, slung Oliver's body over his shoulder.

"No!" She shouted, "If we want to have any chance of reviving him, we cannot make his numerous injuries worse!" Nyssa glanced at the ledge and was relieved to see the cot still there. "Grab the cot and place him on it," she ordered, almost growling out the command. "You will pull, and I will keep watch as we travel to this place where we will revive him."

She knew that their treasonous actions had initiated the clocks to their deaths, and the only hope to destroy the clock was through the dead man lying in the snow in utter peace. Their final, only salvation was Oliver Queen, the man who had survived in a fight against her father longer than any of whom she had ever heard.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Well, that's all for this chapter, folks! I don't know if I'll continue this, so please, leave a review and let me know what you thought of it. Whether it be positive or negative, I would really appreciate it.

I'm going to explain my reasoning for a few things:

**Oliver is much more like his Season 1, Season 2, and Season 5 flashback persona. To be honest, the show turned him into a wimp who needs the advice of everybody else before he makes a decision. He is not a child who needs to be told about the consequences of his actions because he already knows – at least he should know already. If I do, in fact, continue this story, Oliver will not be what Arrow has depicted him as the past couple of seasons - an inexperienced rookie. In this version, Oliver has suppressed the rage that allowed him to survive for so long, but it begins to seep out during his fight with Ra's.

**Yes, Malcolm is going to be like he was in Season 1 if I continue this - an awesome, badass villain.

**Ra's is far more cunning and proactive in this than the show. I actually really liked the version of Ra's in Arrow except for… that one scene, the… infamous guru scene. I really liked the 3x20 episode, except for the Olicity drama/romance that felt shoved down everyone's throats. I mean, right before that insufferable sex scene, it had Felicity brazenly confronting Ra's al Ghul, the most dangerous man in the world, in his inner sanctum that houses the Lazarus Pit. Then, to make the entire scene so much worse, Ra's Al Ghul proceeded to give her advice like he was a love guru or something, sprouting some poetic themes about love and time. Instead of being what you would expect from a cold-blooded assassin, the leader of the deadliest army in the world, that was what we got. *headshake* The real Ra's al Ghul, the one who I base the character on, would have cut off Felicity's head and made sure that there was no trace of her body to use the Lazarus Pit to heal and/or resurrect her.

**Nyssa and Maseo agree to somehow bring Oliver back to life through means unknown. I think that Nyssa, in the show, must have had some idea that her father was unhappy with her. I mean, she is a very smart character and has been raised in Nanda Parbat. She should understand Ra's Al Ghul's mindset better than just about anyone, but Arrow had her so shocked by his decision. Fury, yes. Brokenness, yes. Those two emotions would make sense, but not shock for someone as intelligent as Nyssa.

And no, Maseo didn't 'beat' Nyssa. Rather, she had been caught off-guard and was put in a position where there wasn't much that she could do to escape. In my honest opinion, I think that a fight between the two would be really close, just like a fight between Nyssa and Malcolm, but I would like to think that Nyssa would win because come on, she is Nyssa Al Ghul.

Well, that's everything. Please, remember to leave a review and tell me what you thought. I would really appreciate it because I don't know if I'll continue it, or leave it as a one-shot.

Stay Safe
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