Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing.

So I was trying to write something for Smallville and an entirely different Oliver Queen happened.

Chapter One

"Useless computer," the man grumbled. He poked a few more times at the tablet screen, obviously making the situation worse. "Stupid things just make everything harder. Life was easier before computers."

Oliver glanced at Felicity sitting next to him and tried not to smile at the sight of her. She looked ready to leap across the desk and either smack the businessman for his stupidity or smack the tablet out of his hands and rescue it from his clearly inferior skills. Maybe both.

It didn't help that he and Felicity were both more than ready to leave. They had been invited to meet with Adrian Michaels at his home office to further discuss a deal that had been in the works for months. Michaels had sprained his ankle while playing tennis at his club over the weekend and since, according to him, the meeting couldn't wait, they had been forced to go to him.

Truth be told, Michaels made Oliver uneasy. He was older than Oliver, but his history was just a little too close to Oliver's own for comfort. The man's father had built their family company from the ground up, slaving to turn it into the large corporation it was. As a young man, Michaels had been handsome, nice enough, but not exactly responsible - a few scrapes with the law, a few minor scandals. Now his father was gone and he was fortyish, heading toward portly, and a mediocre replacement for his father's brilliant business acumen. It was most likely exactly what Oliver would have turned out like had the island not happened and it was very disconcerting to see.

Oliver glanced around the office for the hundredth time taking in the exits, one back to the home's central hall, one leading to a glassed in sunroom of some sort, and wished he could take either of them right now. Michaels was pontificating yet again on the perils of modern life and Oliver was starting to feel the sudden urge to punch something. He had trained himself to sit perfectly still for hours on end if need be, but the meeting was near torture at this point.

Felicity must have noticed because she surreptitiously put her hand on top of his where it had turned into a fist unbeknownst to him. He forced himself to relax his hand and grasp the arm of the chair instead. Felicity gave his hand a pat as if she were a proud parent whose child had made a good decision. Apparently, if Felicity couldn't hit the guy, then neither could Oliver.

Oliver sighed in misery. He'd been in countless offices just like this one: Wood paneling, shelves with gilt-edged books that had never been opened, tufted leather chairs, a giant, ornate desk meant to impress. It had Oliver's mind wandering back to his father's list of people who had failed the city. Sadly, Michaels wasn't list material. He was an honest enough person, just rich and clueless.

Finally, Michaels shoved the "useless" tablet toward his own executive assistant, a thirtyish dark headed woman who looked like she'd been putting up with her boss for a lot longer than anyone should have to. She quickly pulled up whatever it was her boss was looking for and sent it to Felicity's tablet. Felicity glanced through it and nodded. A look passed between the two women and, not for the first time, Oliver wondered if it was really the executive assistants who ran some companies. They often seemed to be more capable and far more aware than their supposed 'superiors.' As usual, the thought that Felicity had things well in hand made Oliver relax. Hiring a genius MIT grad had been a brilliant move on several levels.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said, cutting Michaels off mid-thought. "We'll have to continue this another time. I have another meeting this afternoon." He stood and Felicity quickly followed suit.

Michaels puffed up unhappily. "I thought this deal was important to you, Queen."

"Absolutely," he replied smoothly. "My assistant has the newest report, and all the suggestions we discussed today. She'll forward it all to the transition team and we'll set up a new meeting as soon as they've had a chance to look it over. This is a good thing for us both. I won't let the opportunity go to waste."

Michaels simmered down a little, but he still looked put out that he hadn't been allowed to continue his never-ending thoughts on… whatever he'd been blathering about.

Suddenly, Oliver's ears perked up at a sound that had no place in the home of a businessman.

Gunfire.

It was as unmistakable as the sound of one of Oliver's arrows leaving the bow. His eyes immediately shot to Felicity and he saw that she hadn't realized what it was yet, although her head had turned toward the door as if she'd heard something.

A second later a security guard stormed through the door, gun in hand. "Into the panic room, Mr. Michaels," the man ordered. He pointed with his free hand. "All of you, now."

Michaels was slow to realize what was happening, but his assistant was immediately on her feet, reaching for a hidden button on the desk. A panel in the wall behind the desk that Oliver hadn't realized was there slid open silently. Inside, Oliver could see a bank of screens for security cameras and lots of stainless steel cabinetry.

The gunfire was getting closer and Oliver turned toward the door, fully intending to head into the fray when he was stopped cold.

"Oliver?"

There was a tiny waver in Felicity's voice and in an instant he changed directions. It was the exact opposite of her normal nervous babble. In that one word she'd packed so many questions. "What's going on?", "What do we do?" and just a hint of, "I'm scared. Don't leave."

Oliver grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her bodily, pushing her toward the door of the panic room. Michaels had already shoved his assistant out of the way and was hurrying inside despite his sprained ankle. Oliver nearly carried Felicity in his haste to get her inside as well. He had no doubt Michaels would close the panic room and leave them outside to their fate.

Just as they crossed the threshold, a burst of automatic gunfire filled the room they'd just exited. Oliver felt a punch to his left side that nearly twisted him around, followed by a fiery pain that was all too familiar. Another shot nicked his arm, but he ignored it, his only concern to get Felicity to safety.

The bullets flew around them and Oliver wrapped his arms around Felicity from behind trying to offer as much protection as he could. Michaels slapped a giant button just inside the panic room door and the panel slammed shut, but not before the automatic gunfire reached them again, ricocheting off the metallic shelving in the small panic room.

Felicity's head suddenly snapped back and it caught Oliver directly on the nose. His vision blurred as he fought not to pass out and it took him an extra second to realize that Felicity had become a dead weight in his arms. She wasn't heavy, but as he gripped her it pulled at his side. The pain was instant and overwhelming and together they tumbled inelegantly to the floor.

Oliver blinked trying to get himself back together. He felt a sudden warmth on his arm. He reached a hand up to see if his nose was bleeding from Felicity's unintentional head-butt to his face, but it wasn't that.

As his foggy brain cleared, he realized he was still wrapped around Felicity protectively and part of his vision problem was that he was trying to see through Felicity's long blond hair. Her back was pressed to his chest and her head was resting on his arm.

Oliver's heart stuttered to a stop. He wasn't the one bleeding.

The ricocheting bullets... Felicity's head snapping back suddenly…

Blood was pooling around her head, sliding over his arm to the panic room floor.

Just a little something to get things started… More soon…