The man woke with a long and pleasant groan, his naked form twisting within the silken embrace of his expensive cotton blankets. His toes curled into the softened sheets beneath him, his muscles contracting as he stretched slowly outwards, feeling the draped hand of another sliding warmly down his chest. Careful not to rouse his sleeping companion - whatever her name was - he sat into an upward position, feeling the warm grasp of evening sun filtering through the curtain’s crack.
He slipped out from the messy sheets, a tired yawn as his feet sank lightly into the below carpets. He reached for the lamp by the bedside table, a soft click as the room was warmly illuminated in its glow. Getting up onto his feet, he drew the curtains slightly to the side, allowing the settling sunlight to ebb into the hotel bedroom, the last remaining hints of day fading slowly in the distance.
He stared out towards the darkening skies, as heavy clouds threatened the bustling city from the east. The Starling skyline was visible from where he stood, an expensive view, from an expensive suite. He heading into the living room next, where he found half a remaining bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a cup. Using the hotel’s provided pen and papers, he scribbled a note for his sleeping companion, telling her that he had business elsewhere to attend to, that he enjoyed himself last night, and that the room was paid till the next morning if she wishes to stay.
Removing the locked baggage case he had with him, Oliver Queen exited the room, and within the next few minutes, was speeding down the highway in the direction of the Glades.
He had a target in mind that night, a music store at the ends of Railroad Street, located in the center of the Glades. He knew that many of the crime families laundered their dirty money through legitimate business fronts. No one still listened to music CDs nowadays, much less from a store located so deeply within the crime infested slums of Starling.
Most of the roads he sped past, were vacant and deserted. The residents knew better than to roam the Glades at night. The nearest police post was at least half an hour away, and they knew better than to respond to calls from the Glades; they were in as much danger as the ‘victims’, if there were any in the first place.
Hours later, he stopped at the side of an empty street, alighting from his vehicle and moving to its trunk. He seemed radically out of place, exceptionally overdressed in his
expensive suit. Popping open the vehicle’s trunk, he unlocked the case that he brought along, revealing a darkened suit in its exterior. He thought for a long while, before considering otherwise. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure that the music store was laundering money, and the last thing he wanted, was to charge into an innocent man’s store in his hooded attire. If possible, he wanted to avoid unnecessary attention.
Leaving his gear behind, he headed in the direction of the store, as dried leaves cracked beneath his polished shoes, like the wealthy and corrupt of this city, stepping onto the poor and underprivileged. The crime, the riots and the marches for change, they were undeniable testaments of the city’s growing unrest.
There were two muscular figures standing by outside the store, their darkened features hidden by the pathetic exterior illumination. But even from the opposite sidewalk, he could feel their ominous presence; the way they were sizing him up, and the dozens of gang tattoos that became visible as he approached the store. Suddenly, the money laundering theory no longer seemed too farfetched.
As he stepped into the store, the first thing he noticed opposite a few shelves of CDs, were huge stacks of cash and drugs sitting by the side of the room. There was a noticeable click next, as the two thugs outside followed him in and locked the doors behind them. He turned, feigning ignorance as the two blocked his exit. The first approached him, a menacing presence.
“Are you lost pretty boy?” His wide grin exposed gold plated teeth.
Oliver took a step back between shelves of CDs, preventing the other thug from flanking his rear.
The one that spoke however, mistook his cautionary retreat as a sign of weakness, thinking that Oliver was nothing more than a lost businessman of some sort, his surging adrenaline and excitement clouding his more rational mind.
“That’s a nice watch…” a threatening smile, “don’t you think it’ll look nicer on me?”
A penknife appeared in the thug’s grip, his feigned helpfulness replaced by an intimidating growl. “Now, why don’t you hand that nice little watch over to me before someone gets hur-“
The thug would soon realize how hard it was to finish a coherent sentence and dodge an approaching strike at the same time. Oliver darted forward as the thug spoke, the heel of his palm impacting squarely into the man’s chin, a powerful strike that forcefully snapped his jaw upwards, sending the bigger man stumbling backwards, blood gushing rapidly from his lips; he must have bit onto his own tongue.
Without giving the tattooed man time to recover, Oliver took another step closer, his arms snaking around the one that held the knife. He pulled it away from the thug’s body, locking and stopping its deployment, then he twisted, and pulled. There was a loud snap as the man’s elbow dislocated, followed by agonizing screams. The knife slipped from his weakened grip, allowing Oliver to catch it mid fall, and instantly returning it into the side of the man’s leg.
As the knife penetrated flesh, Oliver noticed the other thug reaching into his jacket, undoubtedly for a weapon of some kind. With zero hesitation, he pulled the blade out of the thug’s thigh, sending the blade flying straight for the second man. It struck the man fully in his shoulder, sending him staggering back into a row of CDs, as Oliver pivoted and swept the first thug’s legs from under him, sending him slamming heavily onto the ground. His skull cracked loudly against the polished floors, not enough to kill him, but more than enough to knock him out.
After making sure that the second thug was not getting up anytime soon, Oliver dragged them out of the store, leaving them unconscious by the side of the road before heading back to his vehicle and returning with two large cans of gasoline. He poured the flammable liquid all over the building’s interior, over the cash and the drugs.
He then stood outside the store, admiring his handiwork, when a sudden yelp caught his attention. It was a panicking cry for help, a female's voice.
Oliver headed to one of the moaning gangsters, removing his jacket and wearing it himself. Then, he took the lighter he brought alone, and threw it into the building. It caught fire instantly, a powerful blaze of heat, as Oliver pulled the jacket’s hood over his head and started in the direction of the screams.
It did not take him long to access the situation. Two more thugs, and a lone woman; she was pressed up against the wall, one of the men were roughly groping at her, while the other was rummaging through her dropped purse.
Oliver headed over to the first, who looked up from the woman’s purse a second too late, and found himself unable to escape the incoming swing of a metal pipe that Oliver had picked up. There was a loud clunk as the man’s head snapped violently to the right, his body toppling over right after. The sound got the attention of the other thug, who roughly shoved the female aside as he turned to his fallen companion.
“What the fuck?!”
The man reached for his strapped gun, pulling it out just as Oliver met his weapon with the downward swing of the pipe. There was a loud crack as the weapon discharged, harmlessly firing a shot into the gravel beneath. The man yelped painfully, before his cries were abruptly replaced with the sound of Oliver’s pipe smashing into his face. The man toppled backwards, falling beside a few of his broken teeth.
Tossing the pipe aside, Oliver moved over to check the crouching female, his face turning as hers darted towards his. Their surroundings were dark, and the hood hid most of his visible features. Even still, his face slanted downwards, away from hers. He took a single glance at her, and was satisfied that she did not require further help.
“Go home,” he said, his tone almost strict. “The Glades is a dangerous place to be alone at night.”
Before she could reply, he turned and walked away in the opposite direction.
