The Starling City docks were seldom a welcoming place, and even less so tonight. A company of about a dozen armed men, each one carrying an M4 rifle patrolled a small, dockside warehouse, the arms they carried, along with the symbols on the uniforms they wore warning anyone who would approach of the fatal mistake they would soon be making. Each man bore a crest on his sleeve, a stylized triangle with the word "Abstergo" beneath it.

The sound of footsteps caught the attention of one guard, the man signalling to his fellows as they all raised their weapons as one. "Who's there?" He demanded.

"Relax, gentlemen." Said a smooth voice. "The company sent me to have a look at the package." The speaker was revealed to be a tall, thin man in a pristine black suit with short, cropped black hair and blue eyes, a small, seemingly permanent smirk on his face as he approached the guards. "I trust no one else has seen it yet?"

"Not yet sir." The head guard said, coming forward and saluting the man in the suit. "We were waiting for a company representative before we opened the doors. If you don't mind though, sir, I'm going to need to see some ID."

"Oh, but of course." The suited man said, reaching into his pocket. The guard's hands tightened around his rifle. He knew this city was famous for vigilante activity, so for all he knew, this man was a killer. He relaxed, however, upon seeing that the man had simply pulled out an ID card identifying him as Jacob Ellison of Abstergo Industries. "I trust this is good enough?"

The guard loosened his grip on his gun and gestured to the warehouse. "Right this way, Mister Ellison."

Ellison followed the guard toward the warehouse, nodding to the two guards by the door as the others watched them pass before returning to their patrols. "Tell me, captain, is this the only way in?"

"No, sir." The guard said. "There's a back door as well, and I have three men on it."

"Good." Ellison said smoothly, opening the door to the warehouse. "I'd hate for us to be interrupted. Abstergo put a lot of money into finding this back in Italy."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir," the guard inquired. "What exactly is this thing? We were never told what we were guarding."

"That's because you didn't need to know." Ellison said, stepping into the warehouse. "Though I'll ask you to come with me for now. It would be nice to have just a bit of extra protection."

The guard saluted. "Yes sir." He said, following Ellison inside.

Once the door was shut and locked, Ellison took a long look around the warehouse. The guard captain may have been with him, and he may have said the doors were locked and watched, but in a profession like his, one could never be too careful. The warehouse was dimly lit, and what space there was in the small building was taken up by stacks of crates. In the middle of the building, however, was a small, metal table with a briefcase on top. Ellison stepped toward the case and reached into his pocket, producing a small silver key. When he reached the briefcase, he used the key to unlock the locks on the case and opened it.

A set of lights built into the case turned on to illuminate its contents. Sitting in a sealed glass case inside the briefcase was a series of partially burned papers, each one browned from age, charred around the edges and having the odd hole in it. Next to the glass compartment was a keypad, a password being required to open the glass. Ellison's smirk grew only wider. "My good man, you were told nothing about what it is you were guarding, correct?"

"Yes sir, that's correct." The guard replied.

"There's a good reason for that." Ellison said. "You see, the contents of this briefcase are of unimaginable value. You see, this is a piece of history here. These pages are the last surviving fragments of the Codex of Altair. The pieces were once thought destroyed in the Battle of Monteriggioni over five hundred years ago. The fact that we now possess them... I'll need to get these to the director and quickly."

The guard nodded and took a step towards the door, but stopped in his tracks almost immediately. "Sir, get behind me. I think someone's in here with us."

"I thought you said no one could get in!" Ellison hissed, slamming the case shut and shoving the key in his jacket pocket.

"It seems we have an uninvited guest." The guard said, grabbing his radio. "Men, we have a party crasher. No one leaves unless I say so."

"Ten four sir." Came the response.

The guard raised his weapon and looked around the room with a keen eye. "Come out now and make this easy." He said.

No response.

"Come out now or I'll shoot!" He said, louder this time.

Still no answer.

Tightening the grip on his gun, the guard turned back to Ellison. "Sir, stay close to me. We'll take the front door out and my men can search the building."

Ellison nodded and stepped closer to the guard. The two of them began slowly moving towards the front door, Ellison's heart beating faster as the guard tightened his grip on his gun.

Before either one could move any further, the lights went out. Ellison took in breath through his teeth, the guard immediately looking behind them.

No one was there.

Looking around the room, it seemed completely devoid of life other than them, the only sound being both of their breathing. The guard's eyes scanned the room, his trigger finger itching as he waited for someone to appear. He knew there was someone else here. He could feel it.

He wasn't wrong.

The faint sound of a released bowstring echoed in the small building as an arrow flew out of the shadows above them, the projectile puncturing the guard's rifle. Before either of them could move, a shape burst from the shadows, leaping off one of the stacks of crates and landing right in front of the guard. Before he could call for help, the figure hooked him in the jaw and slammed his forearm into the top of his head, a metallic 'clang' ringing out before the guard dropped to the ground.

Ellison turned to make a break for the door, but before he could even move, the attacker was on him, throwing him to the ground and driving a blade into his neck.

Ellison looked up as the life left his body. His killer stood above him, dressed in a white, hooded robe, the details lost on him through the darkened building's shadows and his own vision darkening. "I know what you are." He croaked "Your crusade will not succeed. We hold more power than you could ever imagine."

The killer slowly knelt down and placed a hand on Ellison's eyelids, the Abstergo employee letting the darkness take him as the assassin closed his eyes.

Arrow's Creed

Chapter 1

When Quentin Lance was called down to a crime scene that morning, he should have known there was a reason for it.

Thanks to his... condition... the other members of the SCPD rarely let him leave the station, and now with his daughter telling him not to aid in the... nightly activities of the Arrow anymore, life had become considerably more boring. So, when he was called down to the scene of a break-in and homicide, it definitely sounded like there was more to the story than they were letting on.

As he drove onto the scene in his cruiser, he stepped out into the sunlight of the city docks. Several officers were surrounding a single warehouse, but as he flashed his badge to them, they allowed him to pass. As he walked past the police line, he saw a detective taking a statement from three men in security uniforms by the warehouse door. "Detective," Lance greeted. "What's going on?"

"Captain Lance." The detective said, gesturing to the three men. "These men were assaulted last night. They didn't see by who, but each one was knocked out before they could radio for help."

Lance walked over to the three guards and looked each one in turn. "None of you saw anything?"

The guards looked defiant under Lance's eye, but not one of them spoke. To the trained eye of the police captain, they were hiding something. "Detective, explain to these two fine gents what and obstruction charge is and then see if they want to start talking. I'm needed inside." With that, Lance walked into the warehouse. Inside, it was surprisingly clean, to the point that if it weren't for the assaulted guards outside, one would never have guessed a robbery had taken place.

That all changed, however, when he stumbled onto the real crime scene. A covered body lay on the floor, a discarded rifle a short distance away. "What happened here, and why did you call me?" Lance asked the detective on scene. The detective was a short, African American man with his hair cropped short wearing a blazer. Two officers were also on scene, examining the rifle and marking it. "We've got a break in and homicide, but I don't see why you needed to drag me out here."

"It was my idea to call you, sir."Said the detective. "With all the work you put into the Arrow-"

"We already pardoned him." Lance said "And a random break in and homicide just isn't his style... not anymore at least."

"I know that," The detective continued. "But with the amount of work you out into that case, I figured you're kind of used to, shall we say, odd cases."

"Odd? What do you mean odd? Some guy broke in and killed him, what makes this odd?"

"Well, for one, a guard that was in here with him survived." The detective said. "The man was knocked out cold by the attacker who then proceeded to kill this man, a mister Jacob Ellison." The detective explained.

"Alright, that's a bit odd," Lance agreed. "But was it really worth dragging me out here for? I'm not exactly in the best shape of my life."

"It does get stranger." The detective continued. "That rifle over there, that's not the murder weapon. That was the guard's gun. And look at the body." He said, pulling the cover off Jacob Ellison's body and revealing him to Lance.

The police captain frowned as he looked over the corpse. "It almost looks like he's sleeping." He muttered.

"Exactly." The detective explained. "He was killed quickly and efficiently, one shot right to the neck. Then our killer gets all artsy with him, puts his hands on his chest and closes his eyes."

"Looks like we might have a psycho on our hands." Lance surmised as he looked at the body, the desire to try and wake him up only alleviated by the puncture wound in his neck.

"I thought so too," The detective said "Until I got a look at the gun. We found this in it." He said, producing a small evidence bag. Inside the bag was a single object. "It's an arrow, Captain Lance. The killer shot the gun with an arrow."

Lance took the bag and looked over its contents. Not even a year ago he would have been ecstatic about a development like this. After all, it would bring him another step closer to finding the vigilante that so troubled him. Today, however, he and said vigilante had an unsteady peace, and Lance had even issued a formal pardon to him. He had a feeling that this wasn't the Arrow, and the evidence he held in his hand confirmed that suspicion. "It's not him."

"What?"

"It's not him, this isn't one of his arrows." Lance said, gesturing to the evidence bag. "For one, this isn't an arrow, it's a bolt. This guy had a crossbow, not a bow and arrow. Second, the Arrow doesn't use this kind of ammo. He uses these fancy carbon fibre green headed arrows, whereas this is a wooden bolt with a metal tip, completely different unless he's gotten a major downgrade."

"So you're saying we have another copycat archer?" The detective asked.

"No, I'm saying we have a new vigilante." Lance mused. "Maybe someone took my pardoning the Arrow to mean it's legal now."

The detective looked like he was about to say more when the door to the warehouse burst open, a woman in a grey suit with short brown hair and brown eyes strode in, flanked by two security guards in identical uniforms to the guards outside. "Officers, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The woman said, her voice crisp and impatient. "This is an internal Abstergo matter, and we will be taking over the investigation from here."

"I'm sorry miss, who are you?" The detective asked.

"Laetitia England," The woman said. "Abstergo board of directors."

"Uh, hi, I'm Captain Quentin Lance, SCPD." Lance said, stepping between Laetitia and the detective. "We do this kind of work for a living, so I can assure you that we'll be able to handle this."

Laetitia rolled her eyes. "Captain Lance, Abstergo's private business is our affair, so while you may feel free to investigate the murder, you will not be given access to any of our company information or records, understood?"

Lance cocked his head at the woman. "Uh, lady, I don't think you know this, but you're supposed to help the police investigate the murder of one of your employees, not cover it up. Oh, and also, when you deny access to pretty much anything that might be important about this poor man, it makes you look a hell of a lot more suspicious than anyone else right now. So I suggest that you let me have a look at a few files on mister Ellison."

Many people would have been intimidated by the speech that Lance had just given. Laetitia England, however, was not one of those people. "I suggest you speak with Abstergo's legal team then. Now, if you don't mind, I have a question for you, detective Lance."

"Oh, you do now." Lance said in disbelief. "You come in here, disrupt our investigation and then refuse to give us any information, and then you start asking me questions?"

"We need to determine if anything of value was stolen." Laetitia continued, undaunted, raising her voice slightly with every word. "There are a few things that may have gone missing from this warehouse, and I would be willing to pay good money to anyone willing to go over a small list of items and tell me if any have been found here."

That did it. Several heads around the room spun in her direction. Lance applied palm to face. "This is ridiculous. Fine, find out what was stolen and then report back to us with it. If we know what it is you're looking for, it'll make this case a lot easier."

Laetitia looked at Lance quizzically. "I'm sorry detective, you must be under the impression that Abstergo is willing to play well with others. We don't. If there's something we feel you need to know, you will be told. Until then, stay out of our way."

With that, Laetitia turned on her heel and walked off. The detective turned to face Captain Lance. "What do we do now, sir?"

Lance rubbed his temples in frustration. "Keep up the investigation until they throw you out. I've got a phone call to make."

Suffice it to say, Felicity Smoak was more than a bit surprised to hear her phone ringing with a call from Detective – sorry – Captain Lance this early in the day, especially since the man rarely called her unless it had something to do with the man she spent her nights with... not in that way... but still, a call from him in broad daylight was a bit surprising... and now she was making it sound like some kind of crime. Maybe she should just answer the phone. "Detective Lance?" And there she went again with the 'detective' Lance...

"Felicity, listen, I need your help." Lance said "Is our mutual friend there?"

Since Felicity just so happened to be helping Oliver prepare to get his company back, he just happened to be sitting just across from her. The former playboy and current vigilante looked her in the eye as she mouthed the word 'Lance' to him. A single nod told her he would take the call, and she quickly handed the phone over to him.

Oliver took the phone and activated its built in voice modulator. "Captain Lance?" He said, his voice coming out much deeper on the other end.

"We may have a problem." Said the captain. "There's another vigilante in town. He's got a crossbow, and he's a bit too reminiscent of you in your old days than I'm comfortable with."

"He's a killer?" Oliver asked, somewhat dreading the answer. The last thing he needed was for another vigilante to think that just because he had killed once meant it was fine to leave a trail of bodies.

"Afraid so." Lance replied. "He dropped a body at the docks last night, fought off all the guards and put a knife in his throat. Strange thing is, all the guards were still alive to talk about it, it's just the one guy that got killed."

Oliver frowned. Why would a vigilante killer do something like that? When he was still in his time as a killer, the majority of bodies he dropped were henchmen of the people he hunted, killed because they would likely kill him if he didn't. This guy, on the other hand... why would he only kill the one man. "Send Felicity as much as you can on the victim, including how he was killed. I'll track this guy down."

"Thanks. See if Felicity can't track down any more info on this guy than I could, his company's giving me the cold shoulder."

"Will do, Captain." With those words, Oliver disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Felicity. "We've got a problem. Another vigilante killer is out there, he's already struck once, and I want him stopped before he does again."

"What about Stillgrave's crew?" Felicity asked.

Oliver cursed under his breath. He'd been tracking that crew for weeks now. "We'll get Roy to keep an eye on them. Find out what you can about this guy, and I'll work with that to track down his killer."

And that is chapter one of this new project

Just to clarify, this story begins at the start of Season 3 of Arrow, because that's not only when the plot involving the League of Assassins really begins, but it's also when the Flash begins.

I should probably say right now that this is somewhat of a collaborative project with fellow author Undaed15 who will be working on the Flash story to this Arrow piece. And just a warning, there will be appearances in this story, and likely also in his, from characters from other franchises. Not too many, but some will appear.