Chapter Text
Felicity was sick and tired of waking to unfamiliar rooms, with no recollection of how she’d gotten there. She opened her eyes to find herself lying atop a soft mattress, sprawled across a bed that seemed to span the entirety of her body length twice over. She groaned and sat up, her vision swinging alarmingly. Once her head had adjusted to the double bass drum solo thrumming behind her eyes, she slid herself off the bed and moved to scan her surroundings. The room was ornate, fitted with a four poster bed, high arching ceilings and several expensive looking paintings. Pale light streamed through a large window to the side of the room, dancing from object to object, splaying golden patterns in its wake. They wouldn’t be so careless, would they? Felicity frowned and moved towards the window, fingering the catch with uncertainty. The smooth metal slid across her fingertips with ease, as she reached to pull it down.
“I wouldn’t try it, if I were you.”
Felicity whirled, pressing herself against the window, eyes wide as they latched onto the burning blue gaze of Oliver Queen.
“And why the hell not?” She bit back, watching him prowl towards her, completely at ease, but for his eyes; they drilled into her own with a chilling sharpness, as if cutting into her very soul.
“Because, Miss Smoak, this house is five miles away from any neighboring building.” He continued to move towards her as he spoke. His voice was quiet, yet it seemed to echo around the suddenly cold room, “My guards are patrolling every exit and entrance, every nook and cranny within that five mile radius.” He was mere inches away now, close enough for her to touch, “If you try to run, they’ll catch you.” Felicity’s eyes flicked over the strong set of his jaw, the cool determination in his eyes; they traced the hard line of his mouth and tripped over white scars crisscrossing his arms. She looked at him, so different from the boy she had met all those years ago, and couldn’t help the small flicker of sympathy that shot through her.
“What happened to you?” She whispered. Oliver’s eyes shuttered, his entire body going rigid with tension.
He raised his chin and ground out through gritted teeth,
“A lot.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode towards the door his hand shooting out to grab the handle with a white knuckled grip. He jerked it open, but instead of leaving, addressed someone outside the door. “Принесите его в,” he snapped, with a jerk of his head. Felicity’s brows hiked as a short, squat desk was wheeled into the room, followed by the two men she had seen earlier - Muscles and Grabsalot (she really needed to get better nicknames) - both of whom were lugging boxes into the room. “You’ll be needing these for what I have planned.” Oliver said, stepping aside to let the two men pass. Felicity’s eyes widened as they alighted on the contents of the boxes. As Grabsalot proceeded to dump the contents heavily onto the bed, Felicity shot to her feet, anger spiking through her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She snapped, her eyes locking on the younger man, who spun to face her, shock flashing across his face. She bent to pick up one of the objects and advanced, eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea what this is?” She questioned, much to the confusion of Grabsalot, who shifted from foot to foot, his eyes darting to the other men, thick brows furrowing.
“No..” He opened his mouth to continue, but Felicity got there first, with a biting,
“I thought not.” She raised the object up and glared at Grabsalot over its grey rimmed top, “This is a satellite frequency communicator DX500. I bet you don’t even know how to spell that.”
“Well actually-” he huffed, but Felicity’s gaze had already darted to the next box-ridden object, her mouth dropping open,
“Oh god what have you done to the poor thing?” Letting out a pained whimper, she hurried over to the box, reaching in and fingering the scratched grey surface of the computer modem within. The miserable thing looked to be on its last legs, battered beyond belief and scored with marks, she was surprised it was still standing. Felicity ran a thumb over its worn grooves and roughened buttons, feeling the familiar cool touch of plastic, marred by the coarse scratch of jagged scores. She raised angry eyes to Oliver, who stood rigidly in the corner, arms folded, jaw set as he watched her with a cool calculation that set her teeth on edge.
“If this is your idea of torture, it’s working.” She announced, gesturing to the poor modem, “seeing a computer so mistreated hurts me, in my soul.” She heard a low chuckle to her right and turned, surprised to find Muscles grinning from the doorway, shoulders shaking with each small sound,
“I like her.” He remarked, his deep brown eyes dancing with mirth. Oliver ignored the statement, instead making his way over to the boxes to stand opposite Felicity. She wished he wouldn’t do that, from here she had no choice but to meet his piercing gaze full on, rather than let her eyes wander the room, safe from the magnetic pull of his own.
“We’ll bring you more updated equipment soon, for now I’m sure you can use that for what I need from you. I’ve seen you work with less.” Felicity tried to ignore the sharp twinge in her chest at his recollection, pushing on, lest her mind begin to wander to pleasant days past, the sound of tapping keys and airy laughter, a mess of blonde hair and bright, blue eyes warm with love.
She shook herself, “And what exactly is that? What you do want from me? I mean, you’ve mentioned my ‘special skills,’ - which btw, sounds really sketchy - but you haven’t actually told me what you want. Whatever it is, it’s bad, definitely illegal, otherwise you wouldn’t have kidnapped me, put on this whole charade.” Felicity watched the muscle tighten in Oliver’s jaw, saw a flicker of something flash across his face. Her voice began to rise as she spoke, each word that spilled from her mouth stronger than the last, as she advanced.
“But there’s one big problem here, Oliver. . . what the hell makes you think I’ll do anything for you? You said I didn’t have a choice before, I’m guessing that means you’ll kill me if I say no, but would you really, Oliver?” She paused in front of him, her voice softening to the barest of whispers, whilst her eyes delved into his own, searching, seeking.“Could you do that?”
He returned her gaze head on, face mere inches away as their eyes raged a silent battle. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek from where he loomed over her, hear the crackle of tension between them, see the fire that raged in his eyes, burning away the ice that had once been present. The silence mounted. It surrounded them, pressing against pursed lips and clenched fists in a suffocating blanket that drew tighter and tighter, until it was shattered by a single word:
“Hostages.”
Felicity blinked, “Excuse me?”
Oliver grit his teeth and ground out slowly, voice low, eyes never once straying from her own,
“Five of my men have been captured by a rival gang, most likely the triad. You’re going to get them back for me.”
Felicity scoffed, jerking her chin up,“Oh I am, am I?”
“Yes.” He snapped viciously, looming over her further and forcing her head to tilt back, lest she break the fierce battle of wills that raged between their locked eyes. She refused to step back, reluctant to show any sign of weakness to the hulking man before her. “You’re going to find them. Not because I’m threatening you. Not because I’m keeping you here. No. You’re going to get them back because, if there’s one thing I know about you, Felicity Smoak, it’s that you would never let an innocent man die.” He pushed on, each coarse, clipped word sending a shiver down her spine, “But they won’t all die. Some of them will be tortured, beaten bloody until they can barely move, much less fight back, until all they can feel is the sharp bite of the knife, all they can hear is the strangled cries of their colleagues and the dull beat of fists pounding against flesh. They’ll be twisted, broken, rendered into nothing but a piece of meat with no purpose, but to spill secrets.” Felicity knew her mouth had dropped open, and the blood had drained from her face, leaving her pale, shaken, fearful. He leaned forwards, his voice dropping impossibly low, “Now tell me, Felicity, could you live with that?”
His final words seemed to echo in the silence of the room, shooting through Felicity like a bullet and sending her reeling backwards, finally breaking his gaze. Her head dropped, eyes sinking to stare dully at the floor. She knew she couldn’t refuse, and so did he.
“Fine,” it came out a mere whisper, a broken thing that forced itself from her lips and hung quietly in the air. Oliver nodded, and she felt a brief flash of heat as he brushed past her and moved towards the door. She heard him mutter something quietly to the two men, but refused to turn, instead remaining faced away from the door, head down, fists clenched at her side. She remained in that position, until the gentle brush of wood, and the soft snick of a lock being turned let her know she was alone. Instantly, her head shot up, her feet eating up the distance to bring her opposite to the boxes laying on the bed. Her previous defeated expression shattered like glass as she reached in and lifted out the grey object within, a small smile curving her lips upwards and filling her eyes with fire. She wasn’t done yet, it wasn’t over. They’d brought her here, locked her away and forced her to do their bidding, but in doing so, they’d provided her with the one thing that gave her the biggest advantage - technology. Oliver thought he had her beaten. He thought he could continue going as he was, using her as a pawn in his games, but he was wrong. As she ran a thumb over the satellite communicator, a single burning thought emblazoned itself in her mind; she’d be damned if she wasn’t going down without a fight.