Bloodlust Chapter 3: Rivals

Bloodlust Ch.3: Rivals

         Staring across one of the Verdant's many tables Oliver Queen struggled to get a read on the man casually lounging opposite of him on a small plush chair.  The man was dressed in a custom tailored; black business suit similar to the same one Oliver himself was wearing.  The man could have been a mirror image of Oliver.  They could have even been brothers.  Both men had been brought up in the wealthy part of society.  They both were considered their cities respective playboys.  Each man had also witnessed the death of family members at an impressionable time in their lives and they were both now the heads of their families' individual corporations.  Short of their physical appearances both men were one in the same, right down to the steely stares that they shot across the table at one another.  Each man was as impenetrable as a vault and yet Bruce Wayne seemed to be cracking Oliver's code.

            "So, Mr. Queen..." Bruce began to say with a small smirk on his face.

            "Oliver.  Mr. Queen was my father Mr. Wayne," Oliver corrected him as he flashed a similar smile back at his guest.

            "Bruce," the other man corrected in return.  "Mr. Wayne was my father as well."

            Smiling tensely at one another the two men let an awkward silence fall between them.  After a few minutes of icy, penetrating stares both men reached for their drinks at the same time.  Flashing each other the same rueful grin both men took a small sip from their glasses.

            "So...Oliver," Bruce said as he cradled his drink in his hand, "I hope there is no bad blood between us from our...encounter two nights ago..."

*FLASH BACK TO 2 NIGHTS PRIOR*

            "Slow down Felicity.  You'll eat yourself into a coma at the rate you're going," Oliver said to the petite blonde woman sitting across the table from him who was wolfing down a burger like it was her last meal.

            "I cahn't," Felicity replied through her inhales of burger.  "Iht's shoo ghood."

            Shaking his head in amusement Oliver leaned back against the booth and watched her eat.  Even like this there was something about Felicity Smoak that amazed him.  She was so genuine.  Not a care given for appearances or table manners.  Given all that she had been through the other day.  Oliver couldn't blame her for eating the way she did.  There were too many times he himself had eaten like a warthog after his return from the Island.

            "What's up Oliver?" Felicity asked as she wiped her face with a napkin.  "You've got that far away thinky face going on.  What's on your mind?"

            Snapping out of his thoughtful daze Oliver smiled and replied, "Nothing."

            Fixing him with an 'I know you better than that' look Felicity waited patiently for him to reply.

            Reluctantly giving in Oliver replied, "I was just thinking about my time in the Island...and about everything that you had to go through at the bank the other day.  I'm just glad you're ok Felicity."

            With her face breaking into a surprised smile Felicity looked down at her empty plate in embarrassment and said, "Thanks Ollie."

            Smiling down at her Oliver replied with a simple, "You're welcome."

            Looking up at Oliver with a sudden grim expression on her face Felicity said, "If not for the man in the vault with me I wouldn't be here.  I didn't even get to thank him or even catch his name."

            "There's no need to thank me miss," said a bassy voice off of Oliver's left shoulder.  "The name is Bruce by the way.  Bruce Wayne."

            Looking over his shoulder Oliver saw Bruce Wayne in a dark grey business suit standing over him and Felicity accompanied by an older gentleman with thinning grey hair and a fatherly demeanor.

            Turning to face Oliver Bruce nodded his head in polite recognition and extended his hand as he said, "Mr. Queen.  It is a pleasure to see you again.  How is Mr. Steele doing?"

            Standing up awkwardly in the booth Oliver shook Bruce's hand as he replied, "Nice to see you again as well Mr. Wayne.  Walter is doing well.  He's currently off on a business trip in Metropolis.  He should be back in time for our meeting on Monday."

            "Hold on a minute," Felicity interrupted with a star-struck look on her face.  "Bruce Wayne?  As in THE Bruce Wayne?  The Gotham City billionaire Bruce Wayne? The head of Wayne Enterprises Bruce Wayne?"

            Smiling at Felicity with what looked like a practiced sheepish expression on his face to Oliver, Bruce replied, "That does sound familiar.  I think you missed the extremely good-looking Bruce Wayne.  I read that somewhere in the Gotham Gazette once, but I think the reporter may have over exaggerated a little bit...creative license you know.  Of course me owning the Gotham Gazette might have had something to do with that line.  She was probably just looking for a raise."

            "Oh I didn't miss that," Felicity said not so quietly as she continued to gaze at Bruce Wayne with a twinkle in her eyes.

            Feeling slightly uncomfortable with the looks Bruce and Felicity were throwing at one another Oliver extended his hand past Bruce's face to the older man accompanying him and asked, "And you are?"

            "Alfred Pennyworth," the elderly gentleman replied pleasantly as he shook Oliver's hand.  "I'm Master Wayne's engaged house keeper."

            Turning to clap Alfred on the shoulder warmly Bruce said, "Nonsense Alfred.  He is like a father to me.  He took care of me and raised me since I was a boy."

            "Where were your parents?" Felicity asked, still with a dazed look in her eyes.

            "They died.  They were murdered in front of me when I was a boy.  It's just been Alfred and I ever since," Bruce replied somberly.

            "Oh," Felicity replied snapping out of her spell over Bruce Wayne with a horrified expression on her face.  "I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to bring that up.  Well actually I did since I asked, but I didn't know...well I did know, but I forgot.  I do this stupid thing sometimes where I don't think before I speak and everything comes out all wrong..."

            "Breath Felicity," Oliver said as he looked over at her trying desperately trying to explain to Bruce in the midst of her panic.

            "Right," Felicity said as she took a deep steadying breath.  "I'm sorry."

            "No need to apologize...Felicity was it?  It was a long time ago," Bruce said with a reassuring smile.  "Anyways, Alfred and I were just here to grab some take out.  Enjoy your lunch Mr. Queen...you as well Felicity."

            "You're not staying?" Felicity asked with sudden concern.

            Glancing over at Oliver ever-so-briefly Bruce replied, "I'm afraid I...we...can't.  Alfred and I need to prepare for another business meeting that I have tonight.  But I'd love to have you...and Mr. Queen...over at my hotel tomorrow night for dinner.  I'll write down my number for you and I'll have Alfred make us a reservation."

            Handing Felicity a business card with his cell number written on the back Bruce Wayne smiled at her with all the charm he possessed.  Feeling the queasiness in his stomach intensify Oliver looked away until Bruce Wayne extended his hand in farewell and sauntered off towards the exit.

*FLASH BACK TO THE PRESENT*

            "No," Oliver replied tensely to Bruce's question.  "I hope you and Felicity had a nice time at dinner.  I'm sorry I was unable to attend.  I was...engaged with other business."

            Relaxing a little Bruce smiled at Oliver as he said, "That's quite alright Mr. ... Oliver.  I had to cut the dinner short...much to Felicity's disappointment."

            "Ah," Oliver replied as his stomach churned uncomfortably.  Placing his drink on the back of his right hand he said, "That's quite...unfortunate."

            "Quite," Bruce said as he glanced down quickly at Oliver's right hand as a dark look entered his eyes.  "How did you hurt your hand?"

*FLASH BACK TO THE PREVIOUS NIGHT*

            "He's on the roof Digg!" Oliver yelled into his bluetooth as he vaulted across the gap between rooftops.  Landing in a tight roll Oliver dodged into cover behind an industrial sized air conditioner as a bullet impacted the ground where he had just landed.

            "Where is he Oliver?!" Diggle yelled over the bluetooth in Oliver's ear.  "I can't see him!"

            Hearing a bullet impact the side of the air conditioner and booted footsteps running away into the distance Oliver glanced up over the edge of his hiding place.  Spotting his target two roofs over he replied, "Deadshot is running towards the Glades!  He's two rooftops over!  He just passed Starling Central Hotel."

            "I'm on it," Digg said with a calm focus in his voice.

            Oliver was surprised at how calm Diggle sounded.  After days of searching Deadshot had finally slipped up and revealed himself when he shot a mob boss in Starling Central Park.  Oliver had been on his way to join Bruce Wayne and Felicity for dinner and was passing next to the park when he had heard the shot go off.  It was a lucky break.  Glancing over at Starling Central Hotel across the way, his destination prior to running into Deadshot, Oliver felt the same uncomfortable twinge in his stomach that he had yesterday at the diner when Felicity and Bruce...

            "Oliver!" Diggle yelled in his ear.  "He jumped down onto the street.  He's heading into an alley behind Russo's restaurant.  That alley is a dead end.  I got him Oliver!"

            "Wait for me Digg," Oliver said urgently as he sprinted out from behind the A.C. and jumped another gap onto the next roof.  "Don't take him alone!"

            "He's got nowhere to go.  I got this Oliver...shit! Cops!" Diggle yelled.

            "What?!" Oliver yelled back as he vaulted another roof and angled towards Russo's.

            "I've got cops on my tail! I was speeding. They're pulling me over Oliver," Digg said in frustration.  "Damn it! Deadshot's going to get away!"

            Landing on top of the roof of Russo’s Oliver spotted Deadshot enter the alleyway and head unknowingly toward him.  Pulling an arrow out of his quiver with dark intent and nocking it Oliver replied, "No he's not."

            Pulling the arrow back towards his cheek with a deadly power honed through five years of physical and mental on the Island he took aim.  Taking a calming breath Oliver released his delicate grip on the arrow and watched it sail straight into the right shoulder of his target with enough force to knock him on his back.  Jumping down off the roof of Russo's Oliver hit the ground lightly on his feet.  Pulling another arrow from his quiver he slowly stalked up the alleyway towards Deadshot's struggling form.

            Nocking the arrow to the bow and pulling it back swiftly to his cheek he stared down at Deadshot with murder in his eyes and venom staining his voice.  Making sure to annunciate every word Oliver said, "This is for Diggle you son of a bitch."

            Abruptly an excruciating pain shot through Oliver's right hand as something hard and sharp flew out of the darkness and knocked the bow out of his grasp.  From somewhere to his left he heard a raspy voice say, "He's mine."

            Turning towards the source of the voice Oliver watched a figure materialize out of the night.  The man was as tall as Oliver and sported a mask with pointy black ears that hid most of his face.  Covered from neck to toe in all black cape and black body armor Oliver could just make out a silver design etched into the center of his chest in what looked like the shape of a bat.

            "Who are you suppose to be?" Oliver asked stalling for time to reach his bow.

            "I'm like you," the masked figure replied, as he walked slowly forward not taking his eyes off of Oliver.

            "Who exactly do you think I am?" Oliver asked as he took a few measured steps back in an effort to keep some distance from this stranger and in turn shortening the distance towards his bow.

            "Someone trying to do the right thing," the man replied moving closer towards Oliver.  "The man that this city needs."

            Moving back a few steps Oliver glanced briefly at his bow.  He was now close enough to make a grab for it.  Slipping a flechette subtly from his forearm as the man in the mask glanced over at the struggling Deadshot Oliver began to reach for his bow.

            "Don't," the masked man said with an air of authority.  "You can't kill this man."

            "He deserves to die," Oliver said coldly.

            "Many people do," the man countered as he turned to face him.  "But that's for the law to decide.  Don't compromise who you are for the sake of revenge.  You'll never be able to be the type of person that Starling City needs if you give into your bloodlust."

            "I'm no hero," Oliver growled.

            Diving for his bow he twisted in midair and threw his flechette towards the sharp metallic object that he had expected to fly out of the strangers hand the instant he went for his bow.  Coming up in a roll Oliver spun sharply as he pulled two arrows from his quiver and fired them off at the caped man in quick succession.  The first glanced off of the man's chest plate whole the second arrow was cut short of the man's masked face by a quick swipe from his left gauntlet which Oliver saw had a row of serrated, all black blades.  Breaking into a sprint Oliver charged head first into the stranger swinging his bow around with all the force and momentum that his body could muster.  Catching the edge of the bow in his left hand the stranger drove his right fist into Oliver's stomach and slammed his masked forehead sharply into Oliver's own.  Stunned and breathless Oliver felt his body flip through the air and land hard on the alley pavement.  Twisting around on the ground desperately while barley ignoring the strain it placed on his shoulder Oliver swiped his opponent’s legs from under him.  Feeling the man's grip slacken as he fell Oliver pulled his hand free and rolled underneath and out the other side while grabbing another flechette from his arm. Using all his power Oliver rammed the point of the little arrow under the divide in the man's armored leg platting a split second before the heel of a black boot flew into his face with the force of a tank that sent his world into darkness.

            Coming back to consciousness Oliver found himself staring up at the ceiling of a familiar looking car.  Turning his head slowly while trying to fight the feeling of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him Oliver saw Diggle seated in the driver's seat with a look of cold fury on his face.

            "Deadshot..." Oliver groaned weakly, "Where is he? Digg...what happened?"

            Looking back at Oliver quickly Diggle said, "Good, you're awake.  Deadshot...he...he got away Oliver.  I saw him booking it out of the alleyway like the devil was behind him.  I couldn't get there in time to stop him..."

            "I'm sorry Digg...I almost had him.  I...," Oliver began to say.

            "I know Oliver," Diggle sighed.  "I saw the freak in the mask that handed your ass to you.  He limped off into the darkness after took a few shots at him."

            "The flechette...the one I put into his leg...where is it?  We could get a blood sample off of it and try to figure out who this guy is," he asked as he tenderly raised himself into a seated position.

            "It's gone man," Diggle replied.  "He did leave us this though."

            Reaching into his left jacket pocket Diggle handed Oliver a small, sharp, silver, metallic object.  Rolling it around his bruised right hand Oliver peered intently at the bat shaped item.

            "Who are you?" he whispered to himself.

*FLASH BACK TO PRESENT*

            "I got into a fight...with my boxing instructor.  Those gloves aren't as protective as they look," Oliver lied with a smile on his face.

            "Really?" Bruce asked with obvious suspicion.

            "Yeah," Oliver replied as he looked around the empty club.  "So...shall we get down to business?"

            "Let's do that," Bruce said curtly.

            Adjusting his suit jacket Oliver was caught off guard as Bruce threw the contents of his drink into Oliver's face.  Trying to blink out the sting of alcohol out of his eyes Oliver flew back out of his chair and skidded across the floor as Bruce Wayne jumped across the table and kicked him solidly in the chest.  Grasping for breath Oliver barley made out Bruce's blurry form stalking toward him with a noticeable limp emanating from his right leg.

            "You," Oliver gasped out as he struggled to breath.  "You're him...the man in the mask."

            Towering over him Oliver just heard Bruce say, " And you're the man behind the green hood. Oh, and the name is Batman Mr. Queen," before a fist sent him plunging back into the dark embrace of unconsciousness.