Chapter Text
DEO as a secret agency, is one of a kind.
For starters, ARGUS would never have their headquarter built in the center of the city, especially not with a logo at the entrance stating their true identity. Breaking in should not be difficult, considering their lack of biometric information request on ground floor. Getting out will be much harder, given the limited number of available exits. Most of the people do not seem to be field agents, and one could expect to stir up chaos and turn their number into one’s advantage.
Not that he is currently planning to go against the DEO.
Alex has introduced him to Hank Henshaw, the director of DEO, a man with a particularly strong handshake, and rushed away for other businesses. What business she did not clarify. Nor was it his concern. Though it did come to him as a surprise, for Alex has been observing him with probing eyes all the way from Kimball Park to DEO, and he hadn’t expected her to give up so easily upon their arrival. Must have been something urgent for her to rush away like that.
Yet, apart from his dislike at being watched, he does understand her cautiousness. In fact, that was what he has been expecting, Kara’s quick acceptance and unconditioned trust was the surprise.
Then he was escorted to the medbay, where the doctor tended to his injuries, and suggested a full body checkup. He winced at the idea and waved it out instantly. He also refused further follow-up checks and insisted on the simplest treatment with some meds he could take home and apply himself, acting like an uncooperative patient who simply loathes being near any hospital setting. His acting paid off. The doctor does not seem pleased but reluctantly let him.
Before leaving the facility and be finished with his short trip in DEO, Oliver got the result to the question he has been waiting for.
“I’ve found a way to build a one-off interdimensional portal by Kryptonian technology. By referencing to the design of hyper-engine from Kara’s ship I have also got the energy supply covered, but the problem is pinpointing the earth you are from. Barry dealt with it by his speed force, which is unreplicable since you are not a speedster. There are at least fifty parallel universes out there and without a coordinate, the chance of you arriving at the right universe is slime, to say the least.”
Winn, Kara’s IT friend, explained to him with an apologetic look.
Oliver didn’t understand all the scientific jargons popping up, but he was quick to grab the conclusion.
“You are saying it won’t work.”
“I’m afraid you are stuck on our earth.” Winn looked at him with unease, as if expecting him to lost it at any second.
But Oliver only nodded calmly, appreciated his effort, and left.
If science is not the solution, he’ll find one that is.
Later that night, Oliver received a dozen calls from Kara, which he purposefully ignored and shut down his phone. With Barry’s method proved a dead end, there is no point getting further entanglement with Kara and the DEO. He’s got plans to make and things to research.
Besides, Kara and him doesn’t blend well. Kara is more like Barry, bright and joyful, two things he could never be. Sooner or later she will come to that realization as well, and it would be better for him to sever the tie now, before wasting both their time and effort. She’s got a city to save.
Thinking about it, Kara’s friendly attitude might have something to do with Barry. The kid has probably spoke highly of him, maybe too high. Hell, he might have even referred to him as a hero. He is not, and they don’t know that. Barry’s admiration for him has clouded his judgement.
For a few months, he has naively thought that he could shake away his past, be the hero, be the one to save Starling from its illness. Turns out he has only brought forth the plague. The universe always finds a way to show him the truths that he does not want to admit. He has failed to stop the undertaking, and two wars has been brought to the city because of his very existence. He knows for a fact that there are people in Starling who blamed the Arrow for the disasters since his appearance. They are not wrong.
Oliver recollected his thoughts and turned his focus back to the plan. Despite everything and everyone, Thea needs him. He’s the only family she’s left, excluding Malcom. (And whose fault is that? A voice silently whistles in his ear.) Portal to another reality sounds like a magic thing. Fortunately, he knows someone. He vaguely recalls that Constantine’s expertise is more of the demonic kind, but he should be able to point him to the right direction. Silently praying that his contact has remained the same on a different earth, he turned on his phone again and dialed, disregarding the loads of message notifications from the only other person who knows this number.
(404) 248-7182
He waited for a few seconds, until the call got directly transferred to the voicemail.
“Oy, this is John Constantine. If you fell you’ve reached this message in error, then sod off, you lucky bastard. The rest of you, follow the instruction.”
Then the call ended abruptly, and a message notification popped up, with an address in Los Angeles. Looks like he’s got a trip to LA.
Airplanes and trains require ID identification and a fake ID requires resources and time, both of which running on short supply. Luckily, getting away with ID check is much easier for bus services. A night-long bus trip is just what he needs to get to his destination.
While on the ride, he made a swift check on the address and planned his trip. Before allowing himself some rest upon finish, Oliver frowned at the dozen of messages he received.
There is no point in reading them, he has already made up his mind on going solo. Still, he hesitated for a moment over the delete button, and decided otherwise. One problem at a time. He’ll read these and send her one last note when he finds his way back home.
Oliver arrived at Constantine’s door the next morning. After politely nodding the door and patiently waited for three whole minutes without getting a single response, he took a deep breath, and kicked the door.
Which, of course, got him an immediate response. “Bollocks, it’s bloody six in the morning, who the hell—” and the berating stopped when the bedroom door opened and Constantine, unkempt and smelly, dressed in white shirt, underwear and a red tie (doesn’t have pants on but is wearing his fricking tie), sizing him up before a smirk formed on his face. “Oy…Hey handsome, what’s the hurry?”
It took Oliver some self-restraint – one of the few things he’s proud of – to stay calmly sitted in the awful-smelling couch and explain his situation in between Constantine’s constant interrupts and flirting, before finally reaching to a conclusion.
“Ya see, luv, a portal to hell I can get you, but pathway to another earth is beyond my capability.”
“And the other magic users?”
“A magic of this level requires elements beyond the magic itself. However, there can be exceptions for celestial beings who wields great power at their command.” Constantine lighted the second cigarette (in their ten-minutes talk) before starting his explanation.
“How do I find them?”
“They don’t like to get in contact with us mortals. The only one that would is residing on another earth.” He answered with a sorry-not-sorry tone and a smirk. “Seems like your vacation has just got an infinite extension.”
Another dead end.
Oliver stood up from the couch, ready to leave.
“See ya around, luv. Call me if you changed your thought and want a nice evening.”
Oliver avoided his pat on the shoulder and walked away without a reply.
He went for a grocery shopping before getting back to the department, alongside some extra bondage and commonly used drugs for stock at a pharmacy nearby.
Walking on the street carrying one heavy bag at each hand, Oliver couldn’t help and sighed.
Science has failed him, so did magic. He has promised Thea that she’ll not lost him ever again. He needs a way back home, but honestly? He is out of ideas. With strategies and force he has fought his way through hell during the past eight years, and now neither could be of help and get him any closer to home. He needs to act, do something, but there is nothing he could do.
The last time he felt so frustrated was when Roy was sent to Iron Heights.
Fate has been especially hard on him in the past few months.
Oliver arrived at his apartment. Technically, it’s not his, but he has been using it as a temporary hide-out and according to his conjecture the owner won’t be collecting the place for a period of time.
The moment he opened the door, Oliver sensed something off. Nothing in his sight is giving off abnormal signals, but his instinct has saved his skin way too many times for him to ignore.
Oliver carefully put the bags on the ground, making minimum sound. He slid a flechette into his right hand for precaution’s sake, braced himself, and carefully scanned his way in.
The doorway is clear, so is the living room.
Opening the bedroom door led him directly into a fight. Female, she’s good – though not good as him – movements restrained and not set out for kill – neither is he – and in the seconds between blocking her move, he recognized her face – agent Alex Danvers, the adoptive sister of Kara.
After a few moves, Oliver succeeded in subduing Danvers to the ground, with his flechette hanging over her neck.
He was about to ask his questions when Alex shouted “Supergirl!” and the windows shred to pieces before he was knocked aside by a sheer force – Kara.
Seems like he’s going against the DEO after all.