NOTE: I have put Past is Prologue up on Inkitt and entered it into the Fandom contest. This represents the most polished version of that story, so please head over there to vote for it- and re-read it while you're there!

Disclaimer: Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters in this story are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

My name is Malcolm Merlyn

For twenty years, I've had one goal- to avenge my wife's murder by destroying the Glades.

But now that I know the true cost of my revenge, I've formed a new plan.

To save my city, to protect my children, and to protect my best friend's son, I can't be the assassin I was trained to be.

I must become someone else… I must become something else….

They returned on a Friday, which proved fortuitous for Malcolm. For if he wanted to put his plans in motion, he would need a little time. As it was, Moira had called him a few hours after they had come back to set up a meeting for everyone in one week's time.

It would be time enough.

He spent the weekend gathering intelligence, calling in contacts, setting up meetings for the coming weeks. He had had a few days on the Watchtower to start formulating new ideas, creating new plans. Now, he just needed to contact the appropriate people. That was why he found himself just outside the old Pabst Street station, just after midnight on Monday morning. He wasn't there as Malcolm Merlyn- he was dressed as Al Sa-hir- but he did pause at the spot where his wife had bled out. Long ago he had sworn to avenge her death.

Now he knew he should have honored her life.

Silently he made his way past the barricaded entrance to the old subway station, then cautiously made his way down the stairs. He hadn't got a clear enough view of what kind of defenses his target would have erected from the memories, so he worked his way down cautiously, scanning for booby traps. As he finally arrived at the platform, he was pleased to see the old train parked at the far end.

Inside the old train, Joseph Falk was organizing the information he had gathered about those who had failed his wife. These were the people that had killed her in a senseless gang shooing; and those who had failed to get justice for her after her death. He sat back wearily in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Soon, they would know justice…

"Joseph Falk."

The former train man yelled in surprise, jumping up out of his seat and turning to face a vision from a nightmare- a figure, clothed in black, his face obscured by a black hood and mask. And in his hands was a bow and arrow, pointed right at him. In a panic, Joseph lunged for his gun-

Which was swiftly knocked away by an arrow.

"You'd do well just to listen, Mr. Falk." The hooded man said. Falk backed up, his hands raised.

"Who are you?" Falk asked, scared out of his wits.

"Someone like you." Merlyn replied. "Someone who is seeking justice. But you won't find it like this."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?!" Falk demanded. "My wife is dead, and they won't even prosecute the people who did it!"

"Justice will find them, I assure you." Merlyn promised. "But you have a different fate, Mr. Falk. My employer desires your services."

Falk looked back at him in confusion. "I… I don't understand."

"My employer is like you as well." Malcolm lowered his bow, placing the arrow back in his quiver. His hand moved to his jacket pocket and withdrew a small card that he placed on the table next to him. "On that card you will find the information you need. My employer expects you to be there tomorrow. If you aren't, then I will be back. And I won't be anywhere near as…pleasant." With that, Malcolm faded back into the shadows, leaving Falk alone again.

TUESDAY

Early Tuesday afternoon, Ted Gaynor was seated outside of Malcolm Merlyn's office. He had been surprised when Blackhawk got the call to send someone over for a potential job; Ted could only guess Mr. Merlyn had a heavy roller coming to town that he wanted protected. 'That's why I served three tours in the 'Stan,' he thought bitterly, 'to babysit rich pukes.'

"Mr. Gaynor?" the former solider looked up at the elderly woman seated behind the desk. "Mr. Merlyn will see you now." She said as she rose. He stood too and followed her to the door, and was soon ushered into the very impressive looking office.

"Mr. Gaynor." Malcolm said pleasantly as he rose from his desk.

"Mr. Merlyn." Ted replied in kind. The two men shook hands. "What can Blackhawk Security Services do for you today?" he asked, taking the seat that Malcolm offered.

Malcolm sat back down behind his desk. "To put it bluntly, I've recently learned that my security in this building is terrible, and I'm looking to hire a new, outside company to help secure the premises." He stated. "Your company was at the top of the list."

Ted blinked in surprise. "What kind of services are you looking for? Security guards, escorts…"

"I'm looking for highly trained people that will be able to secure the vast amounts of sensitive information we have stored here. I'm looking for people to act as security guards here in the building, and at our off-site storage facility. And I'm looking for people who would be able to protect potential clients when they travel into the city." He pulled a folder from his desk drawer and slid it to Ted. "Quite simply, I'm looking to make Blackhawk Security Services the primary security firm for Merlyn Global Group. In that folder are all the figures that I've worked out- yearly salaries, potential bonuses, etcetera. I'm also willing to pick up the costs for your healthcare and retirement benefits. "

Ted looked in the folder, and it was all he could do not to whistle. These were some VERY generous compensation packages- a hell of a lot more than they were making guarding spoiled rich brats.

"These are some very generous numbers." He said cautiously.

"I believe in looking out for veterans." Malcolm replied smoothly. They spent the next several minutes talking over figures and job details. All too soon Malcolm looked up as the door opened and Gloria came in. "I'm sorry, I have a client that I must see today. Tell you what, why don't you take that back to your board at Blackhawk and talk it over with them? If they have any questions or concerns, they can contact me directly- I left my cell phone number in the file."

"I don't see why they would say no." Ted said, taking his cue and rising from his seat. "When would you like us to start?"

"As soon as possible." Malcolm replied, standing and shaking Ted's hand. "I look forward to working with you."

"And I you, sir." Ted said, turning and walking back out of the office with an extra spring in his step. This was a hell of a lot better a way to get rich than knocking over armored cars!

As Ted Gaynor walked out of the office, Joseph Falk walked in. Merlyn smiled at the man, then nodded to his executive assistant. "Thank you, Gloria. I'd like to not be disturbed for the next hour."

"Of course, Mr. Merlyn." She said, closing the door.

Falk looked at Malcolm warily. "I'm not sure why you need to hire a security firm," he began, "You seem to have that well in hand."

Malcolm smiled coldly. "Yes, my 'associate'." He said. "Not exactly the kind of security a major global company needs."

"No, he works better behind the scenes, I guess." Falk said. "Finding things he shouldn't be able to find."

"Yes, he's quite gifted at that. It's almost like magic." Malcolm replied with a smirk.

Falk let out a breath. "Why don't we cut the bull, Mr. Merlyn. Why am I here?" he asked testily.

Malcolm's smirk intensified as he pulled another fill off of his desk and opened it up. "Joseph Falk," he began, reading the bio, "former computer technician with the Starling City Department of Transportation. You had a wife, Emma. She was killed when some gangbangers shot up a bodega she happened to be in."

"So you know who I am, so what?" Falk demanded.

"Yes, I know who you are. But you don't know who I am." Malcolm shot back. "My wife, Rebecca; she dedicated her life to making the lives of the people in the Glades better. She worked as a doctor at a free clinic she founded. Then one night she left the clinic for home, but she never made it. She was killed by a gangbanger. Not for money or her jewelry, but because some punk wanted to pass his gang initiation, and he needed to kill someone. She called out for help for hours, but no one came to help her. She even called me." He laughed bitterly. "I thought she was calling me for some innocuous reason, so I turned my phone off. I still have that message saved, Mr. Falk. I still listen to it on occasion, I listen to my wife bleed out in the street as no one would help her."

"So you know why I want to do what I'm planning!" Falk said desperately. "The Glades is diseased- by the gangbangers, by the slumlords, by the DA's who won't prosecute because it's too difficult! They need to be punished!"

"I used to think the same thing as you." Malcolm admitted. "I had my own plan for the Glades. But then I saw what the cost would be, and I realized it would be too high." He stepped around his desk and led Falk to a table in the middle of the room. "We can punish the guilty till the cows come home, but new guilty will just take their place. You are right, the Glades has a disease- but we can't hope to save this city by treating the symptoms, we have to treat the disease itself."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Falk asked, curious despite himself.

Malcolm touched the smart table, bringing the map of the city to life. "The people of the Glades are crippled by a lack of jobs, a lack of opportunities; a lack of HOPE. And they are, for the most part, trapped in the Glades. There are good jobs to be had, and qualified people to have them, but if they can't get out of the Glades TO the jobs, then those jobs are worthless to the city. Sure, people will fill them- but people from outside of Starling. So what we need is a cheap, efficient public transportation system to carry the people of Starling to the jobs they need." He touched the table, highlighting the old subway route.

"You want to bring back the subway." Falk shook his head. "I get what you're trying to do, but it won't work. The subway only ran through and around the Glades- city leaders vetoed any plans of expansion into downtown or the outlying areas. They didn't want THOSE PEOPLE invading their areas." He sneered.

"I know. I was one of the people that worked against any expansion plans." Malcolm admitted. "And I was a leading voice in shutting it down. But I was wrong, then." He touched the table again, highlighting new areas. Falk's eyes widened. "In two days I'm going to the mayor with this proposal. I want to make this city great again, Mr. Falk. And I want your help in doing it."

"My help with what, exactly?" he asked cautiously.

"You have a talent for research; you have intimate knowledge of the train system as it is now, and you have a talent for computers that is second only to a colleague of mine- and she's busy elsewhere. I want you to head this project up for me, Mr. Falk. And when it's finished, I want you to head the DOT." He looked Falk in the eyes. "We have a chance here, Mr. Falk- to not be the kind of men our wives would be horrified by, but to be the kind of men they would be proud of. So tell me, Mr. Falk," Malcolm asked with a steely voice, "Are you brave enough to accept my offer, to fight for a better tomorrow?"

The two men spent the next hour talking, working out and fine tuning the pitch to the Mayor that Malcolm would give on Thursday. During that hour, despite the implied threat to his life if he didn't cooperate, Joseph Falk began to get genuinely excited at the prospect of the plan. 'This is something Emma would love.' He thought to himself.

"So you'll get the information to me by 9 AM Thursday." Malcolm said, leading the other man to the door. "We'll have an hour to review the data before the Mayor and his people arrive."

"That sounds fine, Mr. Merlyn." Falk said.

Malcolm held out his hand. "Please, call me Malcolm."

Falk took the proffered hand. "Joseph." He replied. They shook.

"Then until Thursday." Malcolm smiled at the man as he left the office, but his smile widened as Tommy appeared at the door. "Tommy! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tommy smiled warily at his father. "Actually, I'm here to talk to you about a job."

Wednesday

The moment Felicity returned, she decided it might be a good idea to start getting into shape. After all, if Oliver did ask her to join his mission this time around, she would feel much better if she wasn't so damn helpless all the time. Oh, she had no illusions about putting on a hood and shooting arrows into people- but at least she could be slightly healthier than she was before.

That's what led her to attempt to follow along with the workout DVD she had picked up the other day. And she was sure that, if she kept to it, she would be able to follow along with the whole program.

But for now, five sit-ups were good enough.

Cheering her small victory, she groaned as she clambered to her feet. She grabbed her water bottle and chugged- then nearly spit it up when there was a knock at the door. Setting the bottle down, she turned and opened the door without thinking-

And found herself staring at Malcolm Merlyn.

"You're not here to kill me, are you? Because if you are, I really wish you would have gotten here like twenty minutes ago."

"I'm not here to harm you, Miss Smoak." Malcolm assured her. "I made my daughter a promise, and I intend to keep it." A beat. "May I come in?" he asked.

"Oh!" Felicity exclaimed, moving out of the way so that Malcolm could enter. He looked around the small townhome as Felicity closed the door, muttering to herself.

"You have a lovely home." Malcolm offered, pausing at the poster of Errol Flynn's Robin Hood hanging on the wall. He gave her an amused look.

"Don't look at me like that; I've had it since college." Felicity said defensively.

Malcolm chuckled. "Of course."

"So, what can I do for you?" she asked. "I'm assuming you didn't just stop by to chit-chat."

"You'd be right." Malcolm said. "I need your help finding someone." He slid a bag off of his shoulder and reached into it, withdrawing a sleek new laptop. "I know you haven't exactly set up for that yet, so I took the liberty of acquiring a few programs I think you'd need and loaded them onto this computer." He handed it to Felicity, who took it rapturously.

"Oooh, baby." She gently set the laptop down on her coffee table and opened the lid to boot it up. "Who are you looking for?" she asked as she explored the computer.

"A man named Daniel Brickwell." Malcolm replied.

"And why do you want to find him?" Felicity asked, seemingly casually.

"Because he killed my wife."

Felicity looked up at the assassin sharply. "I'm betting you have people who could find him for you." She said after a moment. "Why me?"

"Because I believe you can find him faster." Malcom replied honestly.

"I won't find someone just so you can kill him." Felicity said sternly. "And I don't care what you threaten me with. I won't do it."

"I don't want to kill him." Malcolm denied, then sighed at the look she gave him. "Okay, I would love to kill him." He admitted, taking a seat across from her. "But I meant what I said before. I made Mia a promise, and I intend to keep it. I don't want you to find him just so I can kill him; I want you to find him so I can turn him over to the police. Alive." He clarified. "I may take a few liberties in capturing him, but I won't kill him, I swear."

Felicity considered the man for a few minutes. "Why now? I would have thought you would have gotten this guy years ago…."

Malcolm sighed. "After Rebecca was killed, a friend who had a contact on the force kept me apprised of the investigation. He told me they had the suspect, and gave me the file on him. He was some punk, who probably had killed people- just not my wife. But I didn't know that at the time. I acted impulsively- I bought a gun, and confronted the guy in an alley outside a bar in the Glades."

"You killed him." Felicity said softly.

Malcolm chuckled humorlessly. "I almost didn't. He actually gave me a pretty good thrashing, but he just left my lying there on the ground… and walked away. And I was so angry, I grabbed the gun I had dropped and shot him. That was the night I left Starling. That was when I made my way to Nanda Parbat." He looked Felicity in the eye. "But on the Watchtower, Mia gave me a file- the file on Daniel Brickwell. He murdered my wife as part of a gang initiation." He shook his head. "Every choice I've made since my wife died was based on a fallacy. So now I need to start making new choices- for Tommy, and for Thea. But I can't truly begin until that man is locked away for the rest of his life."

"What about evidence—"

"Brickwell used the same gun in every murder he has committed. And the few times he's been arrested, he's been able to secret his gun away so it couldn't be tested for ballistics. I turn him in with that gun, he goes away- not just for my wife's murder, but for others as well. The question now is; will you help me?"

Later that day Malcolm was sitting in his office with Tommy, going over his urban renewal plan when Felicity called.

"Yes?" he answered, then listened intensely. "Thank you." He said after a few moments, then hung up. Tommy looked at him curiously, and he smiled disarmingly. "Just another piece of business." He assured his son. "But let's get back to this…"

Later that night, Malcolm moved to the wall of his penthouse office atop the Merlyn Global building and slid aside a small painting. Placing his thumb on the fingerprint scanner, the computer beeped its approval and the hidden door slid aside. He walked into his other work area, a cold, impersonal space filled with weapons of all kinds- swords, knives, and of course, his bow and an assortment of arrows. He stood before the mannequin that held his League of Assassin's uniform, contemplating it for a moment before turning away. He headed to one of the work tables that held a small case. Opening the case, he smirked before reaching in and withdrawing its contents.

Daniel Brickwell, leader of the Orchid Bay Butchers, was smiling as he left the dive in the bad part of the Glades later that night. He counted the money he had just won in poker with satisfaction, and was placing it in his jacket pocket when he froze. Over twenty years of living the criminal life had given him the sixth sense to know when someone was behind him, and as he slipped the money into his pocket, his hand shifted over to his nickel-plated .45.

"Daniel Brickwell…"

Brick spun, drawing his gun- but it was immediately knocked out of his hand by… an arrow? His confusion turned to rage as two more arrows struck him- one in the arm and one in the knee, sending him down to the trash-strewn street.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Brick shouted, yanking the arrow out of his arm and throwing it away he looked up to see the strangest thing he had ever seen- a man dressed in green leather pants, a green leather jacket, and whose face was hidden behind a green hood. "What the hell…"

"YOU HAVE FAILED THIS CITY!" the archer roared as he belted him in the face with his bow.

When Brick woke up, he found he was no longer laying on the street. Now, he was laying on the roof of a building- and judging from the pain in his body, the whack job in the hood must have worked him over after knocking him out.

"Good, you're awake." The archer said, his voice distorted electronically. "I'd hate for you to miss what happens next."

Brick spit out a mouthful of blood. "If you think I'm scared of you, you got another thing coming." He said angrily.

"Oh, no. This isn't the time for fear." The Hood said. "That comes later. Right about the time you're let into the general population of Iron Heights, after it's made known to the other inmates how you like to sate your desires on young children."

Brick blinked. "What?" he gasped. "What the hell… that ain't true!" he protested angrily.

"Of course it isn't true." The Hood replied jovially. "That doesn't mean the inmates won't think it is. Do you know what they do to child abusers in prison, Mr. Brickwell? I hear it isn't pleasant."

"You think I'm going to jail?" Brick laughed. "I'm going to a hospital, and then I'm going home. The cops got nothin' on me!"

"Until they run ballistics on your gun. You know, the gun you always use, but are able to hide away when you're tipped off about being arrested? The gun that's back in your holster?" The Hood glared down at him- at least, Brick thought he was glaring. The hood threw his face into such deep shadow, he couldn't make out the face. "You have committed countless murders for nothing but your own amusement. You've destroyed families. You've caused untold damages to this city- and it ends tonight." The Hood reached down and grasped Brick by his coat, hauling him to his feet. Brick nearly passed out from the pain as he realized that both of his legs were broken. "And if you thought you could escape from the hospital; it will be a bit hard to run on two broken legs. And besides, there is no place you can hide that I won't find you. Remember that fear we were talking about?" Brick could make out the hints of a smile. "Now would be the time you start feeling it." With that, he shoved Brick off the edge of the roof.

The gangbanger screamed in fright as he fell to his death- but his scream of terror turned to a scream of pain as the wire around his ankle pulled taught. Brick swung in a wide arc, his head barely skimming the street below him…

On the roof, the Hood waited until Brick was halfway up on the back-swing before drawing an arrow and firing, severing the line. He watched in satisfaction as the gangster sailed up and forward- right into the window of the squad room of the SCPD. Under the hood, Malcolm smiled as he watched the police react to the man lying on their floor, and was pleased to see he was still moving. When he saw Quentin Lance and his partner look out the window and spot him, he gave the two cops a jaunty wave before firing a grappling arrow and escaping into the night.

Tommy Merlyn yawned tiredly as he walked into his apartment. It was just after midnight, and he had left Laurel's apartment only a short time before after having a meaningful talk (and being slightly embarrassed by his sister in the process- though he supposed her could get used to that). He tossed his coat onto a nearby chair and moved over to the bar to pour himself a drink. He pulled his tie off as he poured, tossing it onto the bar, then grabbed his glass and moved towards the sofa-

And screamed in fright as he finally saw the hooded figure sitting on his couch.

Malcolm reached over and switched on a lamp.

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" Tommy sputtered. He was gripping his glass so hard he was almost afraid he'd break it. "What the hell are you doing here?! And why are you dressed like Ollie?"

"I got him, Tommy." He said hoarsely, and for the first time Tommy saw his father's eyes were red from crying. "I finally got him."

"Got who?" he asked cautiously.

"The man who killed your mother."

Tommy stared at his father in shock, then quickly down the drink, slammed the glass onto a nearby end table, and sat down on the chair, sitting on his sport coat in the process. "Okay, start from the top." He said.

"On the Watchtower, Mia gave me a file that detailed Rebecca's murder- and who killed her. This morning I asked Miss Smoak to track him down for me- a gang banger named Daniel Brickwell. Tonight, I found him." He stared at his son. "I wanted to kill him so… BADLY; but I made a promise to Mia. So while I took liberties in apprehending him, I turned him over to the police. As for the outfit," he gestured to himself, "I figured I may as well give Oliver an alibi when he returns. After all, why would anyone suspect him of being the Hood if the vigilante was around for months before he returned?" Malcolm cleared his throat, then made to stand. "Anyways, I thought you deserved to know…."

"Dad." Tommy reached out, placing a hand on Malcolm's arm. Malcolm looked back at his son, and Tommy sighed. "How about a drink?" he offered. An olive branch.

Malcolm smiled. "I'd like that." He said earnestly, sitting back down as Tommy rose to pour them both a drink.

Thursday

At 10am on Thursday Malcolm, Tommy, and Joeph Falk were in the office smiling and shaking hands as Mayor Weisinger, Deputy Mayor Papp, several leading businessmen and women of Starling City arrived to hear Malcolm's presentation.

"Alderman Blood!" Malcolm said jovially, shaking the hand of the Glade's representative even as Tommy stiffened behind him. "I'm glad you could make it."

"And I'm surprised I was invited." Blood replied coolly with a small smile. "I hope you're not trying to pull me in to some nefarious plan for the Glades, Mr. Merlyn."

"Nefarious? No." Malcolm replied smoothly. "But I do have plans, and I look forward to your input on them." He looked at the others. "Ladies, gentlemen, if you'll join me at the table, I'll begin the presentation." The group gravitated towards the smart table that Malcolm had shown Joseph earlier in the week. "First, some introductions. This is, of course, my son Tommy, who has decided to take a role in the company." Tommy nodded politely; he knew most of the people here from various business dinners he had been forced to participate in. "And this is Joseph Falk, the man whom I've picked to head up this project."

"Yes, your mysterious new project." Wendy Mericle, head of Mericle Pharmaceuticals (and secretly a member of Tempest) said with a coy smile. "I must say the suspense is killing me."

"I certainly hope not." Tommy said under his breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the reason I asked you all to come here today is because our city is sick." Malcolm began. "Crime and poverty have always been a problem in Starling City. Years ago, my wife opened a free clinic in the Glades to help alleviate some of those symptoms. But the result was that some thug shot her and left her top bleed out in the street." He took a steadying breath. "That made me bitter, I admit. And for years afterwards, while I tried to help this city, I must confess I didn't do enough."

Several of the business people looked at each other warily. Every member of Tempest- save Moira Queen- was here, and they all knew exactly what he had planned. Did he honestly believe that wasn't going far enough?

"I had the ability to do more, but I never saw it. Not until my child showed me that I could." He smiled at Tommy, but they both knew he was talking about Mia. "I had the ability to do so much more, to help people rather than discard them; to build rather than destroy." He touched the table, and the display flared to life. A digital rendering of Starling City appeared on the screen. "Mr. Mayor, ladies and gentlemen, Alderman, I am proposing a three-stage project to help us restore this city to the glory it once held- to make it a safe, beautiful place to live in once again. The plan is simple- Restore, Rebuild, Rebrand." He tapped the table, and the subway lines were highlighted. "The first stage is to reopen the old Starling Subway system, and to drastically expand it. Right now unemployment is a major problem in the city, and it shouldn't be. There are jobs available- and qualified people who can fill them- but they can't get to the jobs because of a lack of public transportation. By reopening the Glades line, and expanding it first to downtown, then to the inner suburbs, we can move the people to where the jobs are instead of hiring people from outside the state, leaving out own citizens in the cold.

"The second stage is rebuilding. The combined business interests in this room control about 3/4ths of the property of the Glades, and about a third of the downtown area. As unemployment falls, crime should fall as well as those committing the crimes will have a viable alternative to make a living. As crime rates start to go down, properties in the Glades will suddenly look very attractive to businesses looking to start up or expand. We gentrify the Glades and the surrounding areas, attracting even more businesses to set up shop. And not just businesses- I'm also talking about low-rent housing, public areas, maybe even a convention center. Taking the city back to the time of our Grandfathers, really." He smiled.

"The third stage is rebranding, but that's something we'll have to have the people's input in. Giving our city a new identity, one that sets it apart from the hardships of the past thirty years."

Mayor Weisinger whistled. "That's a very ambitious plan, Malcolm. And I doubt it will be cheap. How are you looking to fund this?"

"There are several federal grants available for the infrastructure projects." Malcolm said. "A small tax increase would generate a small portion of the funds. But the largest portion I'm hoping will come from the businesses that will benefit from these improvements- including, but not limited to, the people in this room."

"What about Queen Consolidated?" Frank Chen asked. "As a large employer, would they be involved…"

"Moira had a family engagement and couldn't be here today." Malcolm replied smoothly. "But I've talked to her about this, and she is on board. I'm actually meeting with her and Walter tomorrow to hash out some of the details, and I will of course be willing to meet with each of you in turn. But for now, I'll let Mr. Falk run the numbers by for you…."

The meeting continued smoothly, with Falk, Tommy, and Malcolm all chiming in at various times to clarify a point or to make a statement. As the meeting wore down, Malcolm was happy to note that everyone seemed to be at least tentatively accepting of his proposal. As the meeting wrapped up, though it was Sebastian Blood that spoke.

"You're really serious about all of this?" he asked skeptically.

"While I'm sure I'm known in some circles for my outrageous sense of humor Alderman Blood, I assure you that I wouldn't waste the time of everyone here- myself included- on a prank." He looked the man in the eyes. It took all of his training not to snap the man's neck. "There were times when I wanted nothing more than to wipe the Glades off of the map and start over." He admitted. "But that won't solve the problem; in fact, it would only make it worse. We," he gestured to the men and women around the room, "captains of industry have the means, and the responsibility, to make this city great again. But we can't do that without your support." He stepped up to the man. "Your word holds great weight with the people of the Glades. You can help us spread our message, and you can help us get the people behind this." He held out his hand. "I'm trying to save this city, Mr. Blood. Will you help me?"

Blood considered him for a moment, then shook his hand. "We have a lot of work to do." He said.

Malcolm grinned. "I agree. Then let's get to work."

Malcolm had gone back to Felicity and asked her to find one more person. This time she had been only too happy to help, especially when he told her who he was looking for.

"Feel free to tell her 'hi' from me. Pointedly. And by pointedly, I mean feel free to shoot her. Non-fatally, though. But an arrow in the ass wouldn't be a bad thing."

And so he found himself perched in the rafters of an old warehouse as he watched Helena Bertinelli pin more photographs onto the bulletin board. This time he was dressed in his full League of Assassins gear, and having decided he had done enough watching, he withdrew a black arrow, nocked it in his bow, and sent it flying. It hit the picture of Frank Bertinelli dead center, startling Helena as she scrambled away from the board and struggled to draw her gun.

Helena had been considering the picture of her father when the black arrow had struck the board. Shocked, she scrambled back and hastily tugged the gun from her waistband- only to stare in horror at the figure that leapt down from the ceiling. He (she assumed it was a he with that build) was clad in black leather armor of some kind, his face obscured by a full face mask and hood. And to her astonishment, he appeared to be armed only with a sword that was sheathed at his side, along with the compound bow that was pointed directly at her.

"Helena Bertinelli." Malcolm said, his voice distorted by a voice changer. "Your angel of death awaits."

"I don't think so." She snarled, firing three shots at the archer. To her amazement, the figure dodged all three.

"You have your mother's eyes." Malcolm said, dodging another two shots. "And your father's aim." Tired of the game, he shot an arrow that quickly disarmed her. He then dropped his bow and motioned for her to attack.

Enraged, Helena leapt forward with a snarl and engaged the archer. She was a gifted fighter- almost a prodigy, her teachers had told her on more than one occasion. But as she exchanged blows with the masked man, she began to realize that however good she was, this man was leagues beyond her. Her feelings were proven true when, apparently tired of sparring, the archer quickly sent Helena to the ground, writhing in pain. She gasped as she felt cold steel at her throat, and looking down she saw he had drawn his sword. "Go on." She spat. "Do it! Send me to my Michael!"

Malcolm's eyes narrowed. He would be saving a lot of people a lot of grief if he did just that. But he made a promise to his daughter, and he wouldn't break it over some overly entitled mafia princess. "You have some skill," he admitted. "Some talent. But it is raw, undisciplined. You allow your anger to control your actions, and if you proceed with your mission like that, innocent people will die." He lifted his blade and stepped back. Tentatively, Helena got to her feet. "I understand why you wish to hurt your father. Your fiancé deserves justice."

Helena looked at him in confusion. "How…." She started. "Then why…"

"As I said, if you carry on as you are, innocent people will die. Why should your quest for justice cause innocent families pain?"

"There are no innocents!" Helena raged. "Not in my father's organization! Not in the triad!"

"And the people that will inevitably be caught in the crossfire?" Malcolm countered. He reached into his jacked and withdrew a folded slip of paper. He tossed it to her feet. "If you truly wish to visit justice upon your father, you need to hone your skills. And so I make you this offer. On that paper are a set of coordinates. Travel there. At the base of the mountain, you will find a rare blue flower. Pick one, and carry it up the path. If you are worthy, you will survive your journey and you will be given the opportunity to learn from the ones who taught me. They can hone you into a weapon that can bring justice upon those who deserve it. Only then can you truly be the huntress you seek to be."

Helena's eyes flickered to the paper, but she never fully took her eyes off of the archer. "What's the catch?" she asked. "That kind of training isn't free."

"No, it's not. In return, you will swear your loyalty to the Demon's Head; his will will be your own, his word will be law."

Helena scoffed. "A lifetime of servitude."

"A lifetime of delivering justice to those that deserve it. To aiding others like you who have lost everything to greed and corruption." He stared hard at the woman. "Or, you can remain here. You can continue on your quest as you are. And the moment you step outside to take out a target, I will kill you." His eyes seemed to blaze with righteous fury. "I will not have you running roughshod around this city. Live or die; make your choice."

Helena was frozen, her mind awhirl as she considered everything he had just said. After almost a full minute, she slowly knelt down, feeling for the paper. For a second she took her eyes off of him, finally locating the strip of paper-

But when she looked up, the archer was gone.

To Be Continued