Oliver was targeting another man by the name of James Holder, whose corporation put defective smoke detectors in low-income housing in the Glades.
There had been many fires and too many funerals.
A shooter had killed James Holder, and shot Oliver.
In the lair, I was patching him up. "Did you get a look at the shooter?"
"No," Oliver answered. "Too far and too fast. But it's no surprise a man as corrupt as James Holder has more than one enemy."
Oliver tried to stand, nearly falling over.
I stood, catching him before he fell. "What's wrong?"
"The bullet," Oliver answered. "Poison."
Oliver nearly fell again.
I put him back into his chair, instantly walking toward the wooden suitcase, opening it, pulling out herbs and water from inside, walking toward Oliver, holding them out to him. "Eat and drink. Now."
Oliver ate the herbs, washing them down with water.
It was a cure that I had found on the island.
⚔
Oliver had had to go to the mansion because Thea had gotten herself into trouble, coming back.
I was testing out the poison from the shooting. "The bullets were laced with Curare, a rare and deadly poison, the killer's unique MO." I pulled up the information on the computer. "He's kill all over the world. Chicago, Markovia, Corto Maltese. Interpol even has a code name for him. Deadshot."
"I was prepared to give James Holder a chance to right his wrongs, but this Deadshot has no morality," Oliver told me. "No honor. No code. He doesn't kill for justice, which makes him as dangerous as anyone on my list."
"It puts him right at the top," I told him.
Oliver nodded.
⚔
Oliver led Tommy and John into the top floor of the warehouse we used for the lair. "So, what do you think? A nice place for a night club or what?"
"Sweet," Tommy told him. "Though, I got to tell you, man, if you're thinking about calling it Queens, I don't think you're gonna get the clientele that you were hoping for."
Oliver pointed to a room. "Private office."
"For the private one-on-one meetings, I would imagine," Tommy told him.
"Hopefully for the occasional two-on-one meetings," Oliver told him.
Tommy laughed. "Man, are you sure you want to do this? It's not like you have any experience in running a club."
"No, but Jill does," Oliver told him.
I walked closer.
Tommy looked at me in surprise. "Really?"
"Believe it or not, I used to work at one, in LA," I told them. "And if I'm gonna get back on my feet and out of the house of Queens, I need a job."
"Jill, you know there's no hurry," Oliver told me. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want."
"I know," I told him. "I just want a head start."
Tommy nodded, impressed. "How about tomorrow night, we go and scope out the competition? There's a new club opening downtown. It's called poison. Max Fuller owns it."
"Max Fuller?" Oliver repeated.
"Mm-hmm," Tommy answered.
Oliver nodded awkwardly. "I slept with his fiancee."
"Yeah, before the wedding," Tommy told him.
"It was at the rehearsal dinner," Oliver told him.
"The rehearsal dinner is technically before the wedding," Tommy told him. They laughed. "Right? And besides, who stays mad at a castaway?" Tommy's phone rang. He checked his message. "Ah, damn it, I got to roll. Anyway, I'll see you later, guys. Good place."
Tommy walked out, leaving.
I looked at John. "So, what do you think?"
"Well, I'm here to provide security, not a commentary," John told us.
"Oh, come on, Dig, do us a favor," Oliver told him. "Speak freely, please."
"Well, this is the Glades, right?" John asked. "Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet."
"I am Oliver Queen, right?" Oliver asked. "People would stand in line for three hours if I opened a club."
"And no one who actually lives in the Glades would see a penny of those cover charges," John told us.
"So we make it a successful business, and we gentrify the neighborhood," I told them.
"I was wondering when we would get to that," John told us. "The knights swooping in to save the disenfranchised. All own your own with no help from anybody but each other."
I nodded. "Wow. You don't think very much of us, do you?"
"No, actually, I have a very high regard for how perceptive the two of you are," John told us, walking out, leaving.
I pressed my lips together, looking around, turning to face Oliver. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yeah," Oliver answered. "The nightclub will conceal the base underneath and provide an alibi for where Oliver Queen and Jillian Wright spend their nights."
I nodded. "Right. Well, while you set up things here, I'm gonna go scope out the crime scene from last night."
I walked out, leaving.
⚔
I got the neighborhood where the shooter, Deadshot, must've hidden to kill James Holder the other night. I looked at a bullet in the wall of a building above, knowing that there was no longer, climbing up a window, using a pipe to climb up the wall, spinning around the pipe to land on the window sill of another window, reaching for another pipe, to climb up to the next window above, pulling out a pair of pliers, using them to take the bullet out of the wall, looking it over.
⚔
I got back to the lair, looking at the bullet through magnifying goggles, pulling up a model bullet of it on the computer screen to show Oliver. "7.62 millimeter rounds. The money trail leads back to the Bratva. The Russian mob." I sighed. "Finally. Some good luck."
"All right, you check that out," Oliver told me. "Tommy's dragging me to Max Fuller's club."
"All right," I told him sarcastically. "Have fun."
"Hilarious," Oliver told me, walking away, leaving.
I smirked.
⚔
I walked into a Russian auto repair shop, looking at two men, speaking Russian. "Ya ishchu Alexi Leonov. [I'm looking for Alexi Leonov.]"
Man 1 turned to me. "Tam nikogo net zdes's takim imenem. [There's no one here by that name.]"
I shook my head. "Ne v vashem garazhe. [Not in your garage.]" I walked closer. "V podvale pod. [In the basement underneath.]" Man 2 walked closer, aiming a gun at me. I twisted his arm before he could shoot, making him groan in pain and fall to his knees, pulling the gun out of his hand, unloading it, letting the bullets fall. I looked at Man 1, pulling down my shirt to show him a tattoo on my shoulder. "Ya Bratva. [I'm Bratva.]" Man 2 stood, backing away from me. "Ya khochu videt' Alexi Leonov. [I want to see Alexi Leonov.]"
Man 1 nodded. "Pleased to meet you."
I nodded.
⚔
Alexi led me downstairs into the basement. "I apologize. We meant no disrespect to a captain. Particularly an American one." Man 2 followed, but stayed on the stairs behind us. "So... how can I be of assistance?"
"I'm in the market for a hired gun," I told him. "Someone the organization's used before." Alexi poured two glasses of alcohol. "His calling card is a 7.62 millimeter gun laced with Curare."
Alexi shook his head. "I know no man who uses such tools."
"But you can find out who does," I told him.
"First, we will drink to each other's health," Alexi told me, handing me one glass. "Then I will look into the identity of this man you seek." We drank. "I will also confirm that you are really Bratva captain. Should this not be the case, I will send my mechanic here to find you and kill you and your family."
⚔
I was still in the basement with Alexi. "So, I checked out?"
"You did," Alexi answered. "His name is Floyd Lawton. I have address. Where he stayed last time, he was in Starling City. But that is all."
"Let's hope he's a creature of habit," I told him. "Go."
"1700 Broadway, Papp Motel, Room 52," Alexi told me. "You'll leave us out of this, yes? Assuming Mr. Lawton doesn't kill you first."
I walked out, leaving.
⚔
Suited up, I got to the motel, standing outside of room 52, kicking in the door.
Lawton was sitting in a chair.
I threw a knife toward him.
Lawton got out of the way, grabbing a gun, aiming toward me.
I ducked behind the wall, throwing a knife at his hand, making him drop the gun, throwing another knife toward him. Lawton picked up the bed to use as cover, aiming another gun toward me. I ducked into cover before he could shoot. I looked into the motel room as he shattered out of the window, running after him, but he was gone. I walked back toward the computer, taking out the USB drive, closing the laptop, taking it with me.
⚔
The next day, I went to Queen Consolidated to take to a computer expert, walking toward a blonde with glasses at her desk. "Felicity Smoak?" Felicity looked at me. "Hi. I'm Jill Wright."
"Of course," Felicity told me. "I know who you are, Ms. Wright."
"I'm having some trouble with my computer," I told her, showing her the laptop. "And they told me that you were the person to come and see." I placed the laptop on the desk. "I was at a coffee shop surfing the web and I spilt a latte on it."
"Really?" Felicity asked.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"'Cause these look like bullet holes," Felicity told me.
"My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood," I told her. Felicity tilted her head. "If there is anything that you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it."
Felicity nodded. "Mm-hmm."
⚔
I was sitting down with Felicity.
"It looks like blueprints," Felicity told me.
"Do you know what of?" I asked.
"The exchange building," Felicity answered.
"Never heard of it," I told her.
"It's where the Unidac Industry's auction is scheduled to take place," Felicity explained. "I thought you said that was your laptop."
I nodded. "Yes."
"Look, I don't want to get in the middle of something that can get me into trouble," Felicity told me. "Okay, can you tell me this? Is this actually Oliver Queen's laptop?"
"Why would you ask that?" I asked.
"Because I know that he and you are close, and his stepfather is trying to bu Unidac Industries," Felicity answered. "And you've got a company laptop associated with one of the guys he's competing against."
"Floyd Lawton?" I asked.
"No," Felicity answered. "Warren Patel. Who's Floyd Lawton?"
"He is an employee of Mr. Patel, evidently," I answered.
Felicity looked confused.
⚔
Oliver and I were talking in the lair.
"The exchange building is surrounded by three towers with eye lines into the building," Oliver explained. "Lawton can get his kill shot off from virtually anywhere. But my mother wants me to be there in person, and you can't cover the area. You can't protect all of Deadshot's targets. You can't do this alone."
⚔
I was suited up, outside the police station, pushing Lance face first against his car. "Detective, quiet."
"You've got a pair on you, pulling this right outside the police station," Lance told me.
"Floyd Lawton's the one targeting the buyers interested in Unidac Industries," I told him. "Interpol calls him 'Deadshot' because he never misses. You can look this up after I go."
"Yeah, and stop chasing you and your friend, I suppose?" Lance asked.
"Warren Patel hired Lawton," I told him. "I can't be sure who they're targeting. It might be all the buyers, and we can't protect them in a space that big. I need your help."
Lance chuckled. "Yeah? Professional help."
"Lawton laces his bullets with Curare," I told him. "Tell your men to wear Kevlar."
I let him go, leaving before he could stand and look for me.
⚔
Oliver and police were in the auction building.
I was outside, suited up, on the watch for Deadshot.
Glass shattered from one side of the building.
I got to the building where Lawton was.
Lawton tried to shoot me. I rolled out of the way, ducking behind cover.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring knives or swords to a gunfight?" Lawton asked.
I waited for him to get close enough, circling around the beam I was using as cover, kicking Lawton in the back, making him roll forward over the ground. "I can handle myself just fine, thanks." I grabbed a piece of scaffolding, kicking Lawton with both legs, jumping up to the top of the scaffolding, grabbing his shoulder, flipping us both to the floor, throwing him onto a wooden table, breaking it. Lawton stood, trying to shoot me. I caught his arm, aiming the shots at the windows, making them shatter, twisting his arm hard enough to make him drop the gun. Lawton tried to punch me. I ducked, punching him in the face, in the stomach, spinning to kick him in the chest, pushing him against a beam. Lawton kicked me in the stomach, pushing me off. I grabbed him, throwing him into the wall, making him fall. Lawton grabbed his gun, standing. I took cover behind the beam. "Drop your gun."
"I admire your work," Lawton told me. "Guess you won't be extending me any professional courtesy."
"We're not in the same line of work," I told him. "Your profession is murder."
Lawton started to shoot at the beam I was using as cover.
I heard the shots end, looking behind the cover to see an arrow in the eye glass over Lawton's eye.
I looked behind me to where Oliver was suited up, and John was behind him, wounded.
Oliver and I helped John out of there, leaving.
⚔
We got John to the lair, laying him on the table.
"You brought him with why?" I asked.
"I didn't," Oliver answered. "He followed me."
I walked toward the wooden suitcase, putting my swords away, taking out the herbs and the water, walking toward John, mixing it into the cure for Curare, helping John drink it.
John coughed weakly, laying his head back.
Oliver started to stitch up his wound.
⚔
Later, when John was lucid enough to be awake, he started to sit up.
Oliver was still suited up, but he didn't have the hood up or the grease paint over his face.
I was still suited up, but I didn't have my mask on. "Hey."
John sat up weakly.