Discovery Devotion Destiny

The Choice

"Guilt upon the conscience, like rust upon iron,
both defiles and consumes it,
gnawing and creeping into it,
as that does which at last eats out the very heart and
substance of the metal. "
-Robert South

It took Oliver a full minute to compute what was happening. The phone was pressed to his ear, his eyes were on the disheveled bed that he was in with his wife not too long ago. His phone rang, and he had to tear himself away from her, away from the fantasy they created in this room. In that time away, she was taken and it was like he could feel the anger pulsating underneath his skin.

"You still there, mate?" came Constantine's voice and Oliver sneered turning away from the bed, away from the memory of happiness that was taken away too quickly.

"Constantine, where is my wife?" Oliver asked, his voice trying to remain as calm as possible.

"She's safe, fine, ten fingers and toes. We just didn't see a reason to hold this off any longer. I'm sure we all will be glad to finally nip this thing in the bud, am I right?" Oliver grit his teeth and Constantine nervously cleared his throat, not able to see the man's face, but he could feel the heat of aggression through the phone. "So, yeah, I called because we're going to need your help to do this, and since we all want the same thing—"

"I want my wife standing in front of me. Not to be taken the moment I turn my back. I told you that I would help you and you pull this!" Oliver shook his head. "I want to see her."

"That's why I called you mate, history has told us we can't do this without you. Go to the closet." Constantine said, and Oliver turned to the closet in confusion.

"Why am I going to the closet?" Oliver asked walking over to the door to the closet warily.

"You'll see once you open it."

Oliver stared at the door for a moment, a bit unsure, before he finally reached over and pulled open the door his eyes going wide at what he saw. The door didn't reveal a closet at all, but a doorway to some place else. It looked like a large old mansion of some kind. Oliver's brow furrowed as he took a step inside. The door slammed closed behind him and Oliver looked back, now suddenly nervous.

"Oliver," Oliver turned at the voice to see Bruce standing there and Oliver felt that anger again and stalked toward the man. "Wait, wait—" Bruce backed away holding up his hands. "I know you're upset—"

"Upset doesn't even describe how I feel right now!" Oliver snapped angrily. "Where is she?!" Bruce let out a sigh before nudging his head for the man to follow him. Bruce turns, walking off and Oliver took a moment before going after him. They walked down the halls, and Oliver couldn't help but let his eyes trail over the oil paintings that covered the walls. "What is this place?"

"This is Zatanna's place." Bruce said over his shoulder. "I believe you've been here before. Just not above the basement." They came to a door that lead to a flight of stairs that Bruce climbed down, Oliver still close behind him. When they reached the bottom of the steps, Oliver stopped as he looked up to a team of heroes that he'd only seen assembled once before and that was when they planned to kill his wife.

Diana took a step forward, "Oliver, I understand you're upset." Oliver turned to the woman. "I too believe this could've been done differently," she glanced over to Zatanna who stood beside her before turning back to Oliver. "But we're here now, ready to just get this over with."

Oliver didn't say anything. He was suddenly nervous. He knew this moment would come, he expected it, but he still couldn't brush away the fear that this wouldn't end the way he wanted it.