[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Ez8CPdu.png[/img][/center][hr][hr] [b]O L I V E R Q U E E N ’ S A P A R T M E N T, S T A R C I T Y 1 1 : 0 0 P M[/b] “Oliver – you’re broke.” Those were among the first words to leave Walter’s mouth when Oliver re-entered his office earlier that night, seeking an explanation for Walter’s cryptic words that morning. Oliver didn’t understand at first – [i]Great,[/i] he thought, [i]More metaphorical mumbo-jumbo[/i] – but as Walter explained himself, a sinking feeling settled into his gut, and he went numb with outrage, spreading through him like pins and needles. Stellmoor International, as he’d learned but a dozen hours ago, had acquired Queen Industries through a hostile takeover, and in doing so had gained near complete control of Oliver’s finances. For whatever reason – and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find one – QI’s new CFO, Isabel Rochev, had ordered all of his accounts frozen, effective immediately. His savings, his fortune – all gone. He still had two million dollars safe for an emergency such as this, but who was he kidding; that money wasn’t going to keep him afloat forever. Sooner rather than later, it was going to run out, and when it did, he’d drown. Walter was right. He was broke. Now, Oliver lay on his couch in his expansive living room, accompanied by his dog, George – a massive, wolf-like beast of a canine, rescued by Oliver’s green-garbed persona from a dogfighting ring – who curled at Oliver’s feet with his eyes half opened, looking like little more than a harmless puppy as he tried to fight off the coming tides of sleep. A half-empty coffee mug stood steaming on the table next to them, the bitter smell of caffeine lingering in Oliver's nostrils. He didn’t need it to keep awake. The sleep didn’t want to come. It avoided him as he thought of how this could very well be the beginning of his final nights in this apartment. Slowly but surely, his money would deplete to the point that rent appeared all but unpayable, and then what? Where would he go? Where [i]could[/i] he go? He had two kids and a dog to take care of. Roy had enough on his plate trying to provide for himself and baby Lian, and Diggle would certainly not be able to afford to accommodate them – not in his tiny, room-for-one apartment. And Dinah… Dinah wasn’t an option. Oliver wouldn’t dare ask for her help, not after what he did he to her, to their relationship. As far as he knew, she still hated him, even after all this time. He didn’t blame her. He was snapped back to reality by George, his teeth bared in a threatening growl. The demi-wolf leapt down from the couch, stalking around it – Oliver followed suit, rolling into a low crouch. He followed his dog with caution, creeping around to the other side of the couch – to be met with tip of an arrow, mere inches from his face. A black-hooded man stared at him behind a full-face mask, lean, muscular arms holding his bow and arrow in place. [center][img]http://screenrant.com/wp-content/uploads/Arrow-Casts-Matt-Ward-as-Komodo.jpg[/img][/center] [b]“Hello, Oliver.”[/b] His voice was distorted, deep and menacing – but beneath it was something else. Oliver could hear it. Joy. Whoever this psycho was, he was enjoying this. Oliver’s instincts took over. Without a second though, he flipped backwards through the air, landing behind the coffee table. He kicked it, catching it as it flipped towards him, the coffee mug shattering as it fell to the floor. Holding the table up as cover, he called for George, his dog obeying as the intruder’s arrow thudded into the wood. Down the hall two doors opened, voices ringing out in alarm. [b]“Dad?!”[/b] shouted Connor. [b]“Ollie?!”[/b] exclaimed Mia Dearden, running towards the commotion. She was a good kid, Mia; one of the most naturally gifted archers Oliver had ever met – a former sex worker turned superhero, she’d gone through hell to get to where she is now – and Oliver would be damned if he let her or his son get themselves killed. [b][color=007236]“Connor! Mia! Get your bows! [i]Now!”[/i][/color][/b] he yelled, and with a mighty heave he pushed at the table, sending it flying towards the archer, who dodged it with ease – giving Ollie a perfect opening. Using the couch as a launching pad, he flew into the air, sending all of his strength into a fist as he crashed down on his attacker, catching him across the face. He followed it with an uppercut to the chin, backed up by a cross – he couldn’t let the intruder recover, couldn’t let him catch his breath. He kicked the man in the chest, sending him stumbling, and followed it with yet another cross – the archer made to nock another arrow, and Oliver kicked his bow hand, sending the weapon clattering onto the ground. He punched him three times in quick succession, ripping his mask off after the third – revealing a man little over thirty, brown stubble covering his cheeks. Blood trickled from his nose, and he smirked at Oliver – sparking an anger within him he knew all too well. Gripping the man’s lapel, he growled. [b][color=007236]“You come into my home, you attack me, you threaten my family – who are you?! What do you want?!”[/color][/b] He got no reply – just a low gurgle, barely resembling laughter. His eyes narrowed, Oliver pulled the man closer, his voice little more than a menacing growl. [b][color=007236]“Tell. Me. [i]Now.”[/i][/color][/b] The man’s laugh was easier to make out this time, short and stilted, and reeking of amusement. His voice was no longer filtered as he spoke, and he stared into Oliver’s eyes, not a hint of fear showing in his own. [b]“You don’t have much time left, Queen,”[/b] he said, [b]“Komodo is coming. And when he does, you will wish you’d have let me kill you.”[/b] He bit down on something, and Oliver’s eyes widened as he realised what it was – a cyanide pill. Before he could do anything, the man's mouth began to froth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. [b]“Fear him,”[/b] he gurgled, his body convulsing. [i][b]“Fear him.”[/b][/i] Oliver stood, watching him as he took his last breath. Mia and Connor stood behind him, bows in hand. [b]“Dad?”[/b] asked Connor, resting a hand on his father’s back. [b]“Are you okay?”[/b] [color=007236][b]“Yeah,”[/b][/color] said Oliver, his eyes distant. [b][color=007236]“Yeah, I’m fine.”[/color][/b]