Chapter 3: New Competition

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Oliver and I suited up, heading to the police precinct to meet with Detective Quentin Lance. Quentin sighed, turning to see us walking towards him. He made a funny face. 

'What is it, Detective?' the Arrow asked, his real voice disguised by a voice modulator. 

'Are you okay?' he asked, looking between the two of us. 'You look like someone peed in your Corn Flakes.' The two of us looked at each other. 'That kind of day, huh?' We didn't reply.

'What's going on?' I asked, my voice concealed with a modulator as well. Detective Lance handed us a folder chock full of evidence - of some kind. 

'Another archer in town. Dropping bodies.' The Arrow opened the file for the both of us to see a guy dead, with an arrow in his chest. 'Seen this guy's work before?' 

'I might have,' Arrow remarked. 

'You know where SCPD's finest might find him?'

'Who's the victim?' I asked. 

'John Burke,' Detective Lance replied. 'Some corporate financier from Qurac. Seems like he wandered into the wrong part of town tonight looking for a little local "entertainment". He ended up with an arrow in his chest.' The two of us walked away, but before we could vanish out of sight, the detective spoke to us again. 'Hey.' We turned. 'You two watch your back, alright? Whoever this guy is...' 

'He's a killer,' the Arrow said, and then the two of us turned and disappeared into the night. 


At the hideout... 


Roy was busy with gloves, packing Sara's possessions in plastic bags for evidence of her death, while Felicity was over with Sara, holding her limp, pale, cold hand. 

'Her hands are so small,' Felicity remarked. Roy turned slightly to face her. 'I never noticed before. She was always so strong and brave.' Felicity sniffled. 'I always envisioned her as this sort of Amazonian warrior.' She looked up at Roy from Sara's cold, dead hands, sniffling again. 'Something I could never be. I was so jealous.' Just then Felicity's phone rang, and she picked it up, wiping away her tears - or trying her best to. 

'Hi. I know I was supposed to come into work today. I - the - I'm sorry. There's been a death in the family.' She sniffled again. 'Thank you.' She clicked off the call just as Oliver, Diggle and I walked into the room. 

'You have any idea what other archer could have done this?' Diggle asked. Oliver let out a deep breath. 

'There aren't that many of us,' Oliver replied. 'Maybe ten of them that I know of, and most of them are in the League of Assassins.'

'Oliver, you don't think...' Diggle started, but Oliver stopped him. 

'No. No. They don't target their own.' We walked to the bench where Felicity was working. 

'What did you find out?' I asked her. 

'He hit again,' she said, looking up at Oliver and I. 'An abandoned warehouse on the corner of Third and Lemire. Ninth floor. The victim was a construction foreman, Tim Kaufman. Security cameras can't get an angle.' 

'Who's that?' Oliver asked, pointing to something in the picture. Felicity zoomed in on two people who happened to be standing nearby at the time of the death of the foreman, seemingly passing packets of some kind to each other - what looked like some kind of low-level exchange. 

'Just some low level dealers that set up shop in abandoned warehouses,' she replied. 'Doesn't look like much of an archer to me.' 

'He might be a witness,' I chimed in. Oliver turned to Diggle. 

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