Oliver Queen sprinted across the rooftops trailing after the shadowy figure darting through the narrow streets on his motorcycle. Oliver felt the sharp autumn air burn his lungs and nip at his mouth. The green vigilante somersaulted off the building's fire escape and landed in a crouch position much like a cat waiting to strike.

An inky black alleyway was all that greeted him when he looked up. Oliver swore under his breath as he felt the prickling of a headache start; he flipped his bow in a clear sign of distress as eyed the empty back street. When he realized he wasn't going to find the figure Oliver decided to retreat and figure this out later.

When Oliver opened the door to the basement of the club he was hit with a wall of arctic level cold. Through stinging eyes, Oliver saw an ice wonderland. Everything was covered in a block of ice, from the costume cases to the individual arrows throughout the room. Hell, even his special Russian scotch and shot glasses were frozen. As Oliver walked down the icy stairs he noticed a single sheet of paper lying in the middle of the room.

Dear, Oliver Queen,

Nice place you have here. It's actually really impressive, I hope you enjoy the little redecorating I did. You know I've always found revenge was best served cold. Then again that's me. Anyway enjoy your little Arrow Cave - you might want to wear a jacket for a while.

Always A Pleasure,

Barry's Boyfriend

P.S Touch Barry Allen again and your arrows aren't going to be the only thing winding up iced.

Oliver chuckled as he read the note, irritation being drowned out by the humor of it all, along with the knowledge that Barry was happy. The shrill cry of his ringtone echoed off the ice creating a whispery echo. The archer smiled soften slightly as he looked at the caller ID, with another fond chuckle Oliver answered the call.

"Hello Barry, I see my plan worked."