Birds of a Feather….
Summary: Oliver is in for the shock of his life when a fishnet stocking wearing, highly trained vigilante arrives in Starling City.
He was perched in the rafters looking down below at the warehouse, waiting. A few guys wandered in, bodyguards, thugs, they were greeted by the other side's bodyguards. Finally he heard a car pull up and he readied his bow as the person he was waiting for walked into the warehouse. Suddenly the lights went off. That was his move someone else had beaten him to it. He had his bow aimed but thedarkness made it impossible for him to see anything. He heard the paranoid commotion below, grunting, swearing, moaning and rapid gunfire. Then everything went deathly quiet and the lights came back on.
Oliver surveyed the ground below for movement, there was none. He dropped from his perch landed on his feet using his fingers spread like a tripod for balance. He stood up and pulled out on arrow, placed it on his bow and scanned around the warehouse. He walked over to man closest to him, took off his glove and held it in front of the man's nose. He felt his breath, he was alive. So the others were most likely too.
He was still kneeled over the man when he looked up and saw a feather floating down towards him. Oliver Queen's eyes followed the small black feather as it swayed back and forth and landed on the fallen man. Whoever had done this knocked seven armed men quickly and efficiently. He picked it up and looked it over; he didn't have much time because he heard the familiar sounds of sirens in the distance. The other person must have alerted the cops.
He sheathed his arrow and put the feather in his pocket and left.
Detective Lance surveyed the warehouse as the paramedics loaded the unconscious men onto the gurneys and cuffed them to the bars. They had been looking for Jensen Fleming for five years, each time they caught him they had nothing to hold him on. But now his men were busy freeing and talking to the fifty five women they found locked in non-working walk in freezer. They were all foreign and brought here on false promises of living the American dream through having sex for money they'd never see.
"Did the Hood stop using arrows?" One of his deputy's asked as he walked next to him.
Quentin Lance looked over at the men being loaded into the ambulance. He had seen the Hood not use his arrows just a few weeks ago with the Count. But some other part of him told him that this wasn't him. He didn't like that nagging feeling in gut telling him he knew whose work this was and he was really hoping it wasn't who he thought it was. He didn't need this, not now.
"I guess you took care of the prostitution ring" Diggle said as Oliver entered the lair.
Oliver flipped his hood down and walked past him to his computers. "I didn't" he told him as he sat down and started typing.
"Then who did? I heard about the bust on the police scanner" Diggle asked a little concerned and hoping that Helena wasn't back. Although if it was her, the men would be dead and he didn't hear anything about a fatalities.
Oliver turned around and held the feather up for Diggle to see. "A bird?" Diggle asked incredulously. "Was it ninja bird?" Diggle said with a laugh.
"Not a bird" Oliver replied intently and went back to focusing on what kind of feather this was. They had left a calling card for him. Whoever it was, wasn't an amateur, they knew what they were doing. So he had to find out who he was dealing with.
Diggle shook his head at Oliver's inability to get humor. The guy really needed to learn how to lighten up. He got what he was doing was important and it was helping the city. But whatever happened to him on the island had stripped away his humanity. What good was saving the city if you were left nothing but an empty shell at the end? He sighed and walked over to his charge to see if he found anything out.
"A canary" Oliver said sternly holding the feather up a picture of a feather on his computer screen.
"A canary" Diggle repeated. "Aren't they usually yellow?"
"This one is apparently is black" Oliver replied.