So here we go again! After a lot of thought I have decided to write another story - and of course it is about the most exciting hero on the small screen, Green Arrow!

First of all, can I say how much I'm enjoying the new season, and especially the fact that Ollie is getting some good storylines. I enjoyed his dark arc (although maybe not enough Ollie angst for my taste) and I am now so excited to see him back as Green Arrow. All the Chlollie speculation on the fan boards is amazing - whatever happens, we are going to see them together more and more as they team up to help Clark. In a way all this Ollie is a problem - it is giving me too many new ideas! I have got so many stories in my head, it is difficult to know where to start. Only one thing is certain in my stories - Ollie and Chloe have to go through hell to achieve happiness (I'm evil, I know).

I have decided to pick up where I left off at the end of my last story, "The Ordeal." This is set before Season Eight, just to be clear. I'm going to try to keep it relatively short - not another marathon like "The Ordeal." After that I've got another couple of ideas floating around, but after watching the rest of this season who knows what new ideas might develop. These stories wil focus on Ollie, and his relationship with Chloe. I know people want more Clark, and I promise he will appear more in this story. However, the Green Arrow is the character that really fires my imagination - I guess I like my heroes to be human, flawed and vulnerable.

This story can stand on its own - you don't need to have read the others (but I'd love it if you did!). For those of you who do want the background, here are the key points:

Oliver was held prisoner by Lex, during which time he was subjected to a variety of torments, not least by Lex's henchwoman Akunin.

Oliver eventually escaped with the help of Chloe and the Justice League, and now Lex is a prisoner, held in a secret Queen Industries facility.

Jimmy is in love with Chloe, betraying Oliver and the others in order to win her love. Despite his actions, his betrayal remains undiscovered, but he still wants to make Chloe his own.

Oliver has proposed to Chloe.

Clear? Okay, let's go!

Chapter One: The Arrow is Back!

Sam Tollin was a worried man.

He was trying his best to hide his anxiety, of course – when you are the representative of one of the most important crime syndicates supplying cocaine to the US market it is never a good idea to wear your heart on your sleeve. The five heavily armed men who stood nearby looked to him for leadership, and not for a minute was he going to let them down. He had an image to maintain; he was the syndicate's man in Metropolis, a killer who had stepped over countless corpses to reach the position he was in today. Lucky Sam Tollin, they called him – a crime baron who had grown rich off the misery of others but who the authorities had never been able to nail. Well he didn't feel so lucky now.

A cold wind blew across the compound, causing Tollin to pull his heavy coat around him a little tighter. The shipment was late, a fact that only served to make him even more jumpy. He wouldn't normally do this, of course – meeting shipments was something he left to his subordinates, especially when they were due in at one thirty in the morning. But his bosses had insisted he supervise this shipment personally, and so here he was, standing in the middle of an anonymous compound in the industrial district of the city, cold and anxious. He understood why his masters wanted him there – if he was in their position he'd have demanded the same. Until two weeks ago he'd been left to control the Metropolis operation on his own; he was a safe pair of hands, a man who knew his way round the city, and who had all the right connections in the right places. And then it had all fallen apart, leaving him reeling and his bosses demanding action. Four shipments had been hit in under fourteen days. Sixteen of his men had been arrested, but more importantly he'd lost hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of drugs, confiscated by the authorities. It was a disaster, there was no other word for it – and he knew that if he didn't regain control of the situation soon then arrest by the Metropolis PD would be the least of his problems.

How can one man do this to me? How can one vigilante freak destroy all that I've built up in this city over twelve years?

The sound of something metal falling to the ground caused Tollin and his men to spin round, their fingers poised on the triggers of their guns. For a split second the atmosphere was taut, each man expecting to come face to face with their nemesis; only the sight of a cat scurrying across the open ground caused them to relax a little, before resuming once more their edgy, silent wait. Tollin's face darkened as he thought of the man who had single-handedly brought his carefully constructed world to the brink of collapse. He'd heard of the Green Arrow before, of course – the leather clad vigilante who headed up a group of would-be crime fighters. But up until now he'd not been a problem; Lex Luthor had been his number one target, and the remainder of Metropolis's criminal fraternity had been left alone in peace. Then Lex had disappeared after that fire in the LuthorCorp building, and suddenly all hell had broken loose. Was the archer responsible for Lex's disappearance? Tollin suspected he was, but he wasn't going to cry any tears for Luthor – he had far more urgent concerns. In a little under a fortnight the Arrow had attacked his operation at locations all across the city, capturing both his men and his merchandise before handing them over to the authorities. It seemed incredible that one man, armed with nothing more than his wits and a bow, could take out some of the best hired muscle that money could buy. He was running rings around Tollin, and destroying his reputation into the bargain. At the same time, of course, his own status as a popular hero was growing by the day, helped by a press that couldn't get enough stories about the city's very own Robin Hood. Hell, he'd even managed to drive the engagement of that playboy Oliver Queen off the front pages – now that really was something.

The sound of a vehicle's engine disturbed the silence of the night air. Tollin felt relieved that at last the wait was over; the shipment was here, and within a few minutes it would be safely locked away in his warehouse. As the gates to the compound opened and the truck hove into view he dared to think that at last his luck might have turned, and that he'd take possession of a delivery without any unexpected surprises. He'd be able to tell his bosses that because he'd taken personal charge of the operation there had been no slip –ups, and maybe – just maybe – that would go some way towards rebuilding his reputation in the syndicate.

Tollin watched as two of his men unlocked the rear doors to the truck and started to unload the delivery. The other three guards continued to scour the area, their guns at the ready, searching for even the slightest hint that they might not be alone. They were all tense, but after a minute or so they started to relax; the only uninvited guest to disturb the delivery was the cat returning from its nocturnal hunt, a mouse gripped firmly in its jaws.

The unloading complete, one of Tollin's men walked across to where he was standing.

"The shipment's complete – thirteen..." The man stopped in mid sentence, his eyes widening slightly as he appeared to freeze for a moment. He then fell forward, Tollin instinctively reaching out to catch him in his arms. For a split second Tollin could not comprehend what had happened, but then he saw it: an arrow, protruding from the man's back a few inches below his left shoulder blade.

"He's here!" he shouted, panic in his voice. He quickly allowed the dead weight of the man to fall to the ground, gripping his gun firmly in his hands as his eyes scoured the gloom of the compound, darting this way and that as he desperately tried to locate the as yet unseen assailant. His men did likewise, the relief that they had felt just moments before giving way to barely concealed fear.

A sound: almost inaudible, as if something was passing through the air at great speed....

Tollin barely had time to register its meaning before another of his men slumped to the ground, an arrow piercing his shoulder.

"Where is he? I can't see him! Can anyone see him?" One of Tollin's men shouted desperately into the night air, his eyes searching wildly for the vigilante who they knew had to be very close.

"There! Up there!"

In an instant all eyes looked upwards and towards a container that stood to one side of the compound. For a split second they saw the sight that had come to strike terror into the hearts of the criminals of Metropolis; a tall, well built man silhouetted against the moonlight, his head covered by the hood that served to protect his identity.

The Green Arrow.

They fired, sending a hail of bullets in the direction of their attacker. As soon as the shots rang out he disappeared from view, and for a moment Tollin thought they must have got him. Only when he turned towards the others did he realise that it was he, and not the Arrow, who had suffered another loss; a third man lay paralysed on the ground, an arrow sticking out from his right leg.

Behind him the sound of an engine starting up provided a momentary distraction; the truck driver had lost his nerve, and had decided on a quick getaway. As he sped out of the compound Tollin and his two remaining men stood rooted to the spot, staring at the container where they had last seen their attacker, their hearts pumping hard in their chests.

"He's there somewhere – find him and kill him!" ordered Tollin, gesturing with his gun for his men to go forward. They hesitated for a moment, before slowly they moved in the direction of the container, guns at the ready. As Tollin watched they disappeared from view, and then suddenly he was alone.

Silence at once seemed to envelope him, its all pervasive force strangely louder than any scream; only the sound of his laboured breathing provided some reassuring relief from the tension of the moment.

Tollin's ears strained for the slightest sound, any hint of what might be taking place in the shadows behind the container.

There was none.

The seconds seemed to pass unbearably slowly, and, even though it was a cold night, Tollin could feel sweat soaking his shirt and making it stick to his skin. Where were they? Why hadn't he heard anything?

"Richards? Marshall? What's happening?" Unable to bear the wait any longer, Tollin shouted fornlornly into the blackness.

The voice that answered – deep, authoritative, unyielding - caused his gut to turn over.

"They can't hear you, Tollin – it's just you and me now."

Tollin spun round, to find the Green Arrow standing twenty feet away from him, his crossbow levelled straight at him. Terror finally overwhelming him, he fired wildly in the direction of the vigilante; he didn't stop to see whether his shot had found its target, but instead turned and ran desperately towards his car. Nothing mattered now but escape – not the fate of his men, not the fortune in cocaine that lay abandoned in the center of the compound, not his fear of the retribution of his bosses should he fail yet again. He just wanted to get away, to escape from the man who seemed almost unstoppable.

Within seconds he had made it to his car. Not pausing to look back, he fumbled with the ignition, at last managing to get the engine to spring into life. With a screech of tires he pulled away, turning in a wide arc so that he faced the entrance of the compound. As the open gates came into view his eyes widened as he saw that his way was blocked by the Arrow, who stood motionless in the entrance. Tollin did not hesitate; he pressed his foot down hard on the gas, aiming the car straight at his attacker. The Arrow did not move, but as Tollin bore down on him simply raised his bow. He fired, and then suddenly Tollin seemed to lose all control over the car. It lurched to the left, and as his mind registered that an arrow must have taken out one of his tires the vehicle impacted with the wall, bringing his attempted escape to an abrupt halt.

Tollin realised he must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew he was being pulled roughly from the car and slammed hard against its side. Disorientated, he felt his arms being pulled behind him, before metal cuffs were snapped into place around his wrists.

"Game over, Tollin – I thought you and your pet apes would have put up a better fight," said the Arrow, flipping his prisoner over onto his back so that he could look at him face to face.

"You'll pay for this, you freak!" Tollin almost spat out his words, staring up at the shades that hid his captor's identity.

"That all you got? I'm disappointed, Tollin – at least Lex Luthor always had a good line when I kicked his ass."

"You don't know what you've done, you piece of shit! Do you think taking me out is going to change anything? They'll replace me, just like I replaced Wilson. Only now they're going to come after you, and they won't stop until they've killed you, do you here? You've signed your own death warrant, hero boy – you're a dead man!"

Tollin's words were brought to a sudden halt by Oliver's fist, which impacted hard on the man's left cheek; Tollin slumped forward, silenced by the knockout blow.

"You talk too much," said Oliver, reaching for his earpiece. "Watchtower, do you read me? Come in Watchtower."

"Hearing you loud and clear, Green Arrow."

Oliver smiled at the sound of Chloe's voice; no matter how many times he heard it, he still felt a tingle of excitement to know that the woman he loved was with him on every mission, his eyes and ears in a dangerous city.

"Mission accomplished, Watchtower. This time we bagged the main man – Tollin's here, along with a few hundred thousand dollars worth of cocaine."

"Any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I'll let the police know – they'll be there in five minutes."

"And I'll be with you in ten. It's been a good night, Watchtower – any thoughts on how we might celebrate?" Oliver grinned as he spoke, visualising in his mind's eye Chloe's reaction; he could see her face reddening with a mixture of embarrassment and childlike anticipation at his words.

"Just get your leathered ass back here, okay? And who knows – I'm sure I can find some way to reward Metropolis's most famous hooded hero." The playfulness in Chloe's voice was unmistakable, and Oliver could not help but feel of a flush of excitement as he thought about the night that lay ahead, a night he would spend in the arms of the woman he loved.

As Oliver cut the link to Chloe he glanced down, his eyes falling on the front page of yesterday's copy of "The Daily Planet" which lay on the passenger seat of Tollin's car. Two headlines glared back at him, headlines which seemed to sum up the turnaround in his fortunes since his escape from Luthor nearly a month before.

ARROW APPREHENDS ANOTHER DRUG GANG: ORGANISED CRIME IN METROPOLIS LEFT REELING

OLIVER QUEEN EXCLUSIVE: "I'M SO IN LOVE"

If only they knew, he thought to himself. If only they knew.

At the same time as Oliver was staring at the front page of the Planet another figure was looking at the exact same headlines, his eyes squinting in the gloom of his small workshop located on the other side of the city. It was late, but the man had no intention of calling it a night; he had work to do, a schedule to maintain. The bench at which he sat was strewn with an assortment of wires, microchips and tools, all scattered in what appeared to be a hopelessly disorganised fashion across the surface. To the casual observer the sight conjured up an image of some amateur maker of models, a man who enjoyed taking things apart and putting them back together again, for no particular purpose. The appearance of the man himself seemed to confirm this view; a squat, round faced man with greasy hair and skin drenched in sweat, he looked every inch the geek, one of life's losers who sought refuge from his own shortcomings in his own private world of electronics and machines.

But appearances can be deceptive. This was no ordinary loner, living a life of solitude with his tools and his circuits. This was one of the most gifted engineers of his generation, a prodigious talent who until recently had seemed destined for a glittering career in research and development with some of the world's leading companies. He'd had everything to live for, until it was all take away from him – by the man whose smiling face now stared back at him from the front page of the newspaper.

Carefully the man picked up a pair of scissors, and began to cut into the newspaper. At first his cuts were big, almost casual, but this changed once he reached the image he wanted to make his own. With painstaking precision he carefully cut round the picture of the man whose face dominated the Planet's front page, taking care to trace every curve, every line, so that eventually a perfect image was separated from the remainder of the paper. For a moment he held it in his hand, as if searching for some error in his handiwork, some blemish that might give cause for him to reject it. Satisfied that there was none, he stood up from his bench and took the two or three steps necessary to arrive at the side wall of his workshop and the large display board that was mounted there. Pulling a pin from his pocket, he tacked the image to the board, before taking a red marker pen from the same pocket. He hesitated for a second, and then with a force that stood in stark contrast to the care with which he worked previously, he scrawled one word across the face of the man whose picture he had taken such care to preserve:

LIAR

Satisfied with his work, he took a step back. The picture fitted in well with the others on the board. Hundreds of others, in fact, stretching from the floor almost to the ceiling. Big pictures, small pictures, taken from newspapers, business journals, society magazines. All of one man, a smiling, handsome man, a man who was currently the toast of Metropolis society after his miraculous return from the dead and his engagement to the journalist Chloe Sullivan. And every picture had the same coarse red writing etched like a scar across it, with only the word varying from image to image:

LIAR

TRAITOR

PARASITE

LEACH

DIE!

The man smiled as he looked at his work. The board was almost complete, as was his plan. Within a fortnight the city would be mourning the death of its favorite billionaire, and he would at last have his revenge for the wrong that was done to him.

Enjoy your final days, Mr Queen, he thought to himself. For soon, I, Winslow Schott, will make you pay for what you have done to me. We're going to play a little game, you and I - a game where I will make all the rules.

Hope you liked it - thought I'd start with some classic Green Arrow action. Toyman is going to be the villain of this story - so far on the show he hasn't given Oliver nearly enough trouble! Please do let me know what you think by posting a review, however short - they mean so much, and encourage me to write even when I don't want to!