A/N: So this is my first Arrow fic. The main character is an OC and isn't from the show or comics. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I in no way own Arrow. The whole the belongs to the CW network and the writers. Most characters belong to DC comics.
AN INTERNAL WAR
Chapter One: Arrival
I stared intently out of the small, oval window with my chin propped up on the palm of my left hand, a cracked Styrofoam cup filled with cold, black coffee clutched in my right. A small sigh escaped my chapped lips as my eyes followed a bird as it soared over the wing of the plane and then disappeared underneath a thick layer of clouds. By now, I had long lost count of how many minutes had passed by since the initial departure time and had instead settled on trying to catch some shut-eye before we landed.
That, however, was a futile goal; if I could barely manage to get a few solid hours' worth of rest when at home, I sure as hell wasn't going to get any when I was being crammed into a stiff coach seat that refused to recline an inch back. At least I had the window.
The plane began to shake slightly as we experienced the third wave of minor turbulence within the last two hours; everyone else around seemed to pay no attention to the tremors, but I, on the other hand, breathed in sharply and grasped onto the seat's armrest till my knuckles turned white. I so should have taken the train.
Next to me, a woman who had been nothing but rude to me the entire duration of our flight, glared at me and rolled her eyes when I caught her looking. With a 'hmpf,' the woman – who was starting to ooze her way onto my seat due to her…large body mass – returned to her reading of the most recent addition of some pop-culture magazine.
Deciding that it would be best to not start a scene by getting angry with the woman, I took a deep breath and looked back out the window. At this point, the plane dropped just enough so that we were slicing right through the surface of the graying clouds; through the top half of my window, a baby blue sky shined with optimism, but directly below, I was staring into the bleak nothingness of the smoky vapors. It was like opposites meeting and creating a perfectly thin line in the middle where light met dark. If I was a poet or writer, I probably could have written a book on that one image or something…
With boredom taking over, I began digging through the small vinyl pouch – where the flight attendants placed magazines filled with toys and inventions that everyone wanted but would never really use – on the back of the seat in front of me. I pulled out a plain black, hardcover sketchbook and pencil that I had stashed there earlier in the flight.
Flipping the cover open, I began to turn through the pages and scan over all of my past sketches: An old, wilting sycamore tree; a still life of a fruit bowl; the scrappy looking dog with only three legs that I saw in a park; attempts of a stone large manor; a boy with dark hair and light eyes…
Tears started to swell in my eyes before I realized it and quickly, I flipped the page and kept going until I reached a fresh, starch white sheet that had yet to be tarnished by my varying grey pencils. I took another sip of my coffee and wiped a stray tear off of my cheek that somehow managed to escape. You're alright. Everything's going to be alright… He's alright…
Taking the pencil in my left hand, I began to sketch. I hardly thought or blinked as I let the pencil guide my hand across the page. Lines swept in and across, up and down; a fine stroke with the tip for detail and bold lines were created for emphasis. With no desired goal in mind, I let the pencil do all the work.
By the time I was done, at least four more pages were filled with whatever the subconscious of my mind wished for me to convey onto the paper, and another hour and a half was killed. With a smile of satisfaction, I placed the sketchbook and pencils back into the pouch in front of me and swirled my coffee around in my hand, hoping that maybe the heat from my palms would somehow warm it up again.
I don't exactly know when or how art came into my life, but since it did, I'd been nothing short of passionate for it. I was definitely no art expert by any means and probably couldn't name five famous artists if I tried, but I didn't see how knowing art history had anything to do with actually creating artwork. Sketching had become a huge hobby and lifestyle of mine, and I was rarely seen without my handy sketchbook and a pencil. Paints were great as well, but I found them to be risky; so unforgiving, but so delicate and special.
With all those thoughts of art whirling around in my head, I couldn't help but begin to think of what things would be like once I made my new home. I could finally live in a place where I didn't have to worry about having all my belongings stolen each night; and maybe at nighttime, I would actually be able to see the stars, not just the gross city smog. The more and more I imagined what things were going to be like for me in my immediate future, the more fear started to creep its way up into the front of my brain and seep out into the depths of my mind.
Then at that moment, a lightning bolt of insecurity struck me and I started to see tunnel vision with only one possible outcome: failure. Nerves began to eat away at me from the inside out, demolishing all joyous thoughts I was maintaining only moments prior. My stomach felt as though it was churning slowly inside of me, filling my body and mind with hesitancy and I could feel an empty pit of anxieties root itself right in the middle. Dear lord, what was I getting myself into? Doubt plagued my mind as I started to think that getting on the plane had been a stupid decision.
Going to a city I had never visited and only read about, renting an apartment that could be filled with cockroaches for all I knew, and attempting to make a living as an artist? Why, that all just seemed crazy! All of it was so irrational! The decision to move across the continent impulsive… and maybe that's why I loved it so much. Maybe a little irrationality was exactly what I needed in my life.
Chugging down the rest of my stale coffee to extinguish the last of my qualms, I leaned back in my chair and let my head rest on my shoulder. Maybe if I tried hard enough… just maybe… I could get a little nap in. After all, I didn't want to look like some homeless person walking around with bags under my eyes once I got off the plane.
Yeah, I thought, sleep does sound good…
The woman was running down the side alley – a supposed short-cut – as fast as she could.
Her heart pounded madly in her chest and adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her breath was coming out in short pants as she powered through the pain her legs were emitting.
A gunshot was fired nearby and the lid to a trashcan right next to the woman flew off the top of the can as it was hit with a bullet; a loud, metallic echo bounced off the grimy brick walls of the alleyway.
The woman skidded to a stop and held herself in a defensive pose. Her eyes scanned the walls and roofs carefully.
She held her breath and didn't dare bat a lash as she listened. Where are you? she thought.
A loud clap of thunder from overhead shook the ground and made the woman slightly jump. Still, her surroundings were silent.
"Attention!" crackled the pilot's voice over the plane's speakers. I gasped and awoke harshly from the sudden loud noise interrupting my sleep; my entire body jolted forward and my head smashed right into the seat in front of me.
"S-sorry," I stammered to the irritated person who sat in front of me, upset from me bumping into his seat. I sat back and let out a small moan while gently rubbing two fingers in small, soothing circles on my forehead. "Ow…" I whined. Yep, that was definitely going to leave a bump.
The pilot continued on with his announcement to the rest of the passengers. "Our descent into Starling City has begun. I ask all of you now to please fold up all trays and put your seats in a forward position. Please buckle up and remain in your seat for our landing. Thank you for flying with Gotham Airlines."
Blinking away the very last traces of drowsiness that remained, I did my best to stretch out my arms within my small personal space without pissing off the woman next to me too much. Letting out a loud yawn, I looked to my wristwatch for the time: 4:52.
Perfect. I still had plenty of time to gather my things and maybe even explore a little.
By the time I officially stepped out of the airport and into the Starling City evening with all my belongings – which consisted of my backpack, a duffle bag, and a rolling suitcase – the sun was beginning to set and a warm breeze billowed in the air, ruffling my hair about. I took in a deep breath of air and excitedly looked around the new city I would soon learn to call home. Compared to where I had previously lived, Starling City was a beautiful ray of sunshine.
Oh yeah, moving here was definitely the right choice.
Placing the duffle bag on the ground, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a scrunched up piece of paper with an address and telephone number that I practically had memorized after reading it so many times. There on the torn piece of scrap paper in my small, cursive scrawl read:
72 North Herron Road
The Giordano Apartment Complex
Apartment # 305
Telephone Number: (417) 332-8980
I had found the 'Roommate Wanted' ad on some website a few months back, and since then, the renter and I had exchanged numerous e-mails with details and negotiations. At last, we came to the decision that I would move in sometime around mid-October. We hadn't talked on the phone yet, so I was hoping with all my might that this person wasn't some old man impersonating a twenty-something year old woman, who was smart enough to put an advertisement looking for a roommate on the internet… Well, I guess I would just have to find out.
With a smile, I scrunched up the paper once more and placed it back into my pocket. I took one last deep breath and with a nod of my head, I started my quest to find my new home. Whoever this Laurel Lance was, she better be ready because Allison Kane has officially arrived!
A/N: And there you have chapter one! This is my second attempt of a first-person story; I know I have a problem with staying in tense, so constructive criticism is more than welcome! Please, tell me what you think so far in a review!