Another one of Slade's muscular puppets, pushed her through the endless maze of dingy corridors. She gave up trying to store to memory the turns after making their eighth, just in the past minute or so. When the guard made a movement to retrieve his keys, she whipped her head around, trying to locate the one person she'd give up anything to see.

She must have stopped in her tracks, as the man brusquely shoved her forward, leaving her to stumble. When she regained her balance, she was met with the sight of Oliver. His back to her, he was looking straight ahead, completely unaware of her presence. He wore a white shirt that did little to hide his body, and as far she could tell, he was unharmed.

She briefly wondered whether he came in his Arrow suit and if so, what happened to it.

As the guard turned to unlock his prison door, Oliver looked up. The man under Slade's orders barely managed to open his mouth to give her the permission to leave his side, when she brushed past him, rushing through the open door and right into Oliver's chest.

His hands tightly wrapped around her, bringing their bodies close together. She could smell sweat and a faint aroma of his soap. When he pushed her body backwards so he could see her eyes, she almost protested.

"Feli-" he began.

"I'm so, so sorry Oliver" she said her voice breaking.

"Shhh, you've got nothing to be sorry about" he said, bringing down his lips to her forehead. The simple gesture managed to sent a bolt of electricity through her, even at a time like this. Collecting her thoughts, she shook her head; she had everything to be sorry about. It was her fault that he was here, stuck in a miniature cell, in Slade's creepy dungeon.

"No, listen to me. I am the one who's sorry, for not finding you earlier and still not managing to get you out now that I have".

"I thought it'd be a good idea to leave", she said, recalling the ultimatum she was given.

"I know." he said. Oliver's eyes darkened as he spoke again. "Are you okay though? Did he do anything to you?"

She gave him a reassuring look. "I am fine, he's just hesitant about me leaving," she muttered, stretching the truth. It wouldn't do him any good if he knew that she'd been injected with something.

"Time's up, lovebirds", the guard's gruff tone interrupted.

"And the rest? Diggle, Sara were they captured?" she rushed the words.

"No, they managed to get away."

She sighed in relief. His fingers brushed hers before they were once again separated.

They went over several scenarios before coming to Clydesdale, to the address they figured could be holding some answers. The building turned out empty just as it's non striking exterior suggested; the extensive amount of flower pots seemed too much unlike Slade for it to have been his hiding spot of preference as Roy cared to point out. Thus they extended their search further out, about ten miles radius.

One building in particular caught their attention; an abandoned asylum closed in the sixties when psychiatric care became more privatised. It's location in the centre of a stretch of empty fields with some scattered trees, an image that resembled Raisa's plum pudding, posed a question of how to remain unseen.

Not having much to play with, they waited for nightfall to infiltrate the building when the guards ended their shifts and new ones came to replace them.

An unsuspecting man was easy to get by; a quick blow to the head which rendered them unconscious so they could be dragged to the side of the building secluded of any CCTVs and stripped off their uniform - navy pants, a matching jacket with a hat. Inconspicuous in their new attire; he and the team slipped in through the back doors, each going their own way to find any clues of Felicity's whereabouts.

Things went awry soon enough though, when he heard Sara hiss in pain over the comm. Him, Roy and Diggle rushed to her side only to find Slade already there, his foot propped on Sara's side as she lay sprawled on the floor.

"Long time, no see" he said, amusement present in his undertone

Oliver closed his eye at the recollection. He should have known something like that would happen. His forehead creased, as for the millionth time he tried to find a purpose that could be steering Slade's plan of action. At first he figured it was revenge but that was obviously side-tracked with the appearance of Felicity or Meghan as he seemed to call her. And he highly doubted it was the awakening of Slade's paternal side that caused them to be in this anyway, so what was it?

When he saw her running in her oversized jumper, he had let out a deep breath releasing the worry that plagued him ever since her disappearance. It was still there, residing in his chest but at least he knew she was alright, as much as she could be in circumstances like these.

Felicity's arms spread as she lunged forward toward him, her body colliding with his.

Instinctively his arms travelled around her tiny form to keep them from toppling to the floor. Oliver pulled them closer; he couldn't help but want for the moment to stretch for longer than he knew they'd be allowed to have.

Oliver's stomach clenched. Her cheekbones have become more prominent since he last saw her and the colorful colour of her lips was replaced by pale, cracked skin.

He gritted his teeth.

They both shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be here, especially being walked around with an armed guard by her arm.

As she turned her back to him, the grinding of her flats against the floor penetrated his ears, his open palm tingling from her touch.

He sighed.

Thinking about the effect a simple brush of her hand against him wasn't any better. Instead, he turned his eyes back towards the wall, unmercifully scanning it for the hundredth time, as if in search of something that could provide him with an answer of how to escape this place. When he finally got sick of doing that too, he headed towards the metal bars.

"SLADE!" he roared into the empty network of corridors. Silence greeted him in response.

When she was brought back to her much bigger than Oliver's prison, Slade was already waiting for her. He lazily brought up his gaze to meet hers and indicated for her to sit down. When she remained unmoving, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I told you I was a man of my word." She huffed at that, but he ignored her. "The kid's unharmed, and will remain as so, a-"

"as long as I do as you say" she said, cutting him off . Did all villains feel obliged to mutter the same, old dialogue?

"I'm glad we understand each other," he said not at all disconcerted by her interruption.

"Scarcely", she said irritated. "I would prefer if you'd just let Oliver go, so you can keep that promise you made me, father." The last word was filled with as much venom as she could muster.

He beamed. "But I have kept it. I haven't touched him, have I kiddo? He came to me"

She growled. Somehow that seemed to please him even more.

" I don't know if you've noticed Meghan, but in the past few weeks you have been having more of a hard time keeping that anger under control?"

"Of course I have, I've been constantly surrounded by your presence."

"Perhaps. Anyhow, it will pair nicely with your newly gained strength."

"What?" she gulped.

"The serum has been slowly making you stronger, not enough for you to suddenly become aware of it, but in time you'll realise."

She sucked in a deep breath as his words registered. She thought back to the dent in the wall she made just by throwing a lamp at it.

"The strength will not be as potent as of one who's been administered Mirakuru, but useful nevertheless."

She was hearing his words as through a fog.

"We'll soon begin your training, but first I need your inhibitions to be lowered. Thus, I have a task for you."

"And if I refuse to do it?" she forced herself to speak.

"Then our mutual friend may encounter some discomfort, not from my hands though," he said pleased with himself. He moved his right leg and placed it on top of his left, before he continued to describe what he would require her to do.

Next day.

Half bending, with her palms bearing her whole weight and resting against the tiny sink, she pushed herself back until she was fully upright.

A woman with a ghostly complexion and hollow eyes looked back at her.

Turning away from the mirror, she pinched the contact lenses off her eyes. She looked at them in distaste before throwing them away into the litter bin, and reaching out for the solid frame of her glasses. The contacts irritated her eyes but she could hardly do much on days like these without them.

At first look the assignment seemed uncomplicated, especially for a newbie like herself. Approach from distance, strike from behind, make it look like a robbery gone wrong, get rid of evidence and disappear.

Yet, when she stood in front the man she was supposed to target earlier today, all those words she muttered to herself before about just doing what she had to in order to save the man she loves, lost their meaning.

The coolness of the metal loosely held inside her clammy hand, made her nauseous. She tightened her grip on the heft of the gun and pointed it upwards. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.

She wasn't a killer.

She lowered the gun, and told the man to get up. Together they walked into his kitchen, from where she grabbed a knife. She handed it to him, and told him to make a deep incision on his leg. She needed the blood and if she got it, he'd be free to go. Leave the country, yes, but very much alive. He gritted his teeth as he pressed the blade to his skin. As the skin teared he looked like he was about to pass out.

But he didn't and she got what she came for.

When she got back, she plodded forward, head held high. The extra weight of the vessel filled with blood tucked into her right pocket and and the gps tracking device attached lower down, made her favour the leg somewhat more affecting her gait.

It didn't take long to find him.

"Well done, you've done well," he said, seemingly proud. "Michael will be assisting you on your next mission."

"What? There wasn't supposed to be a next mission."

"As we have already discussed, this is part of your training."

"No, it wasn't a discussion, far from it actually. You merely stated and I for some insane reason complied. But no more - I'm not going to be turned into an assassin because you suddenly have an overdue need of protecting me, although even this is a funny way of showing it."

Slade growled and his hands landed on her arms, tightening as he shook her. Her stomach churned in fear.

"You'll be needing to cope with relative ease in situations that involve attacking the enemy and deflecting any attacks from their end, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to learn how." he growled. He took a breath, and continued with more calm 'That's why I'll have Michael accompany you - he's well trained and should have no trouble sharing his skills, helping you lower your inhibitions"

She tightened her lips and wondered how she'd get out of this one, but Slade didn't feel like like sticking around any longer to listen to her trying to talk him out of his plans. She huffed. Old habits die hard where he's concerned.

The door opened to reveal a man not much older than her.

"For some reason I thought you'd have dark hair." he said. His voice had a soft, musical quality; quite unfitting to the place.

"I dye it."

"Ah so what's your natural colour?" he questioned.

"I don't think I caught your name."

"I don't think I said it. So?"

"So what?"

"You dodged my question." He noticed.

"Because I don't think it's something you need to know."

"No but I'm curious." Did he not give up?

"Too bad, so you're Michael?"

His arched his brow. "So you do know?"

"I wasn't sure, but you just confirmed it."

He laughed.

"Nice to meet you Felicity." he took out his hand. She ignored it.

"Well I don't think I can say the same thing back."

"Touché"

"So how come you're calling me Felicity, and not Meghan?"

"I just thought you'd prefer it."

She stayed silent for a second. "I do, thanks."

"No problem."

"So why are you here?" she asked.

"I thought Slade explained."

"I don't think 'help to lower your inhibitions.' tells you much"

"No, not really." said Michael.

"Well I'm glad that's settled then."

"He wants me to train you so you know how to attack." he said.

"You mean kill." she straightened.

"Something like that."

She broke the eye contact and looked at the wall behind him.

"So where would you like to start? Shooting range or the sparring mats?"

When she didn't answer, he said "Shooting range it is then, come on."

'Hmm.." he said.

"Yeah?"

"Just wondering how you killed a man yesterday, when you have trouble simply loading the weapon." She heard his silvery laugh.

"I was lucky."

"I can tell." He came up closer to her. "It must have been one hell of a luck." he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nevermind. Here, I'll show you." said Michael.

"Be my guest." She handed him the gun. He looked down at it and the mass of black, unruly curls fell on his forehead, reaching his brows. He removed the clip and pulled the slide back, revealing an empty chamber.

"Take the magazine and place it your non-dominant hand."

She did as he instructed.

"The magazine should be positioned in the space between your thumb and your index finger."

"Got it."

"Insert the rounds, one at a time with your other hand. Push firmly with your thumb. Good. Now slide it back until its below the retaining tip. Keep doing that until the magazine's full."

After she was finished, he positioned the gun in her hands.

"Curl your middle, ring and pinky fingers just below the trigger guard." He nodded his head. "Take your other hand to steady the gun."

"Put your feet a width apart. Now lean forward slightly. Yep. Knees bent. "

She felt like she was learning ride her bike for the first time.

"Keep that arm straight."

She let out a frustrated breath. That thing was far heavier than it looked.

"Now you can start aiming at the target."

"Great." After a moment she fired. The bullet hit the outer target of the circle.

Burnt gunpowder tingled her nostrils and a beginning of a smile tugged her lips.

"Not bad."

Two days later.

She was facing a man in his late forties, clean shaven and in an expensive suit she was got accustomed to seeing at Queen Consolidated.

"Come on Felicity, he killed that little girl. She was seven, only seven and he butchered her like a pig", Michael's voice rang out.

"Stop it." Anger was slowly filling her up.

"Her name was Shauna."

She was shaking, ready to burst any moment. "She pleaded for him to let her go, to let her live" she barely heard him through the blood pulsing through her ears.

She tried to focus on the Armani suit in front of her.

"Do you wanna know what he did to her afterwards?"

"SHUT UP!" she screamed and fired her gun. The bullet went through the man's chest. Surprise registered on his features and before she could count to two, he was dead. Her fingers went slack and the gun fell to the ground. The noise echoed through the building.

She just killed a man.

The ringing in her ears intensified.

"Felicity, you know what you need to do next." Michael reminded. As through a dream, she got up and walked up to the corpse. With trembling fingers she unbuttoned his jacket, then the shirt until she was facing the bleeding wound. Michael handed her a small container, and she gathered some blood inside.

"Nice one," he whispered.

Unblinking, he watched the entire fiasco play out in the nine by five feet projector screen, only his clenched fists indicating he wasn't enjoying the spectacle.

"So what do you think, Oliver? Quite my blood, huh?"

He turned ninety degrees to face Slade's sneering expression, and before the latter could react, Oliver's fists flew into the man's face, sending him flying across the room. He fell into a metal chair with a clang, still grinning.

"Is that all you can do boy?"

Oliver launched himself forward just as the dark haired man got up, catching his shoulders and flipped both of them to the ground. From there he placed his bare hands on Slade's windpipe and squeezed. Slade threw his fist in his stomach in retaliation. Oliver grunted in pain but didn't let go. Slade repeated the action and he fell to the ground. After a minute he shakily got up.

"You'll pay for this Slade" Both of them knew he didn't mean his bruised body.

"And how do you propose will that happen?"

"You'll know when the time comes."

Slade's laugh carried through the building.

Diggle had been watching the building for a week now. Seven days could tell you a lot about a man, even if he never saw him in person only his people. On day three, he saw Felicity. It felt like a dead weight was lifted off his lungs and he could finally breathe. At first he couldn't believe his eyes; she was unharmed and walking out by herself or so it seemed. Unbeknown to Felicity, a shield of armed men were keeping close tabs on her. There were too many for him to take even if he had Sara and Roy by his side.

He had to wait.

Couple of days later he saw her again. This time she was walking with a man by her side. He ran a face recognition programme once he managed to get a decent shot of his face but it came up empty.

He rubbed his temples in defeat. They weren't making any progress and two of his friends continued to remain too far from home for his liking.

That day he went home earlier than usual; Lyla gave him a surprised smile and for once they ate their takeout dinner together.

Later that night, he sat on his couch staring at the photo of the guy in whose company Felicity was seen.

"John, come to bed." Lyla's head popped out of their bedroom.

"In a second."

"You've been at it for hours." she said leaning on the door frame.

" It's been days and all I've got is a face with no name. We're not closer to getting them out than when we first began"

The brunette sat down next to him, leaning in close

"You'll get there in the end, John. You always do."

"This is time it's different. You know what Slade's like. "

When Lyla remained quiet, he shifted his head to look at her. She was facing his laptop screen, her brows furrowed.

"You know that man?"

"He works for us. He's in the suicide squad."

"What?"

"His name is Michael DeViso. Twenty-eight. Has been with us for the past two years."

"Then what the hell is he doing in Slade's headquarters?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know he was out in the field."

Diggle got up and grabbed his jacket.

"You're going to talk to Amanda, aren't you?"

"Damn right I am."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Diggle shook his head. "No, but I appreciate the offer." He gave a her a quick kiss on the cheek ."I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Bye John." And with that the door slammed shut.

Beads of sweat lazily rolled down her trembling body. She imagined that if she was to glance at her reflection, the image which would stare back would not be any different to the one she'd see after stepping out a shower. Only it would. She wasn't just trembling from pure exhaustion, but because she just lost a part of herself, a part that was the only thread that linked her to the person she was before she was reunited with her father.

She had run so hard the corners of her vision began to fade to black, and her chest rose and fell as she gulped for air just like the swordtail fish she once had, the one that one day decided to jump out it's pond and slowly roast in the sun, so when she found it, it's breathing was nothing but mere rasps. The fish was gasping for water and her body for her to slow down. Instead, she only went faster.

She pushed herself until she could go no further and collapsed onto an evening dew grass.

Everyone has a bit of evil in them, she wasn't naive enough to think otherwise. She also knew everybody has the power to push it back and create a better version of themselves. A little effort could go a long way.

Yet try she might, what Slade was making her was ultimately destroying any chance of redemption she might have and creating a killer. If she let the darkness in, it would never come out, that she was sure.

"Monster", the word rolled off her tongue.