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He could still remember the incredulity of the moment all those years ago as he watched the world change. It had been a fairytale come to life. Not the modern happy ending tales that were woven by Disney, but the original bloody horror of the Grimms. Walter remembered the shake of ground and the ball of fire from the construction site in the heart of London. His city, his home which would be all but decimated in a few days’ time by what was once believed mythical. In those first seconds, before the world changed, he thought a horrible accident had occurred. It was sad, but nothing Earth shattering.
Then there had been a sound unlike he’d never heard before echoing out through the city, the closest word he could use to describe it was screech. It was so much more than that though. Pitched high, yet deep like a rumble of thunder across stormy sky. That had been the first warning that what happened wasn’t a tragic but typical accident.
Following the screech, a beat could be heard, a constant thrum like a heart jacked up on adrenalin going wild. He’d watched, dumbfounded as that sound came in sync with the flapping of wings. Actual wings, with a width bigger than any plane he’d ever seen, came up out of the ground.
In his youth, Walter had loved reading stories of King Arthur; tales of magic, great quests, love, loyalty and betrayal. For a moment, he’d been a child again, watching the massive beast flap its wings and rise higher into the sky. The force of the air throwing people and objects around on the ground as it propelled itself higher and higher into the skyscraper-line sky. Seeing the modern shadowed by the mythical had been a thrill.
Dragon. It had been hard to believe that he was seeing a real, live dragon rise from the depths of London. For a few seconds it had been a beautiful sight. A surreal, wondrous moment that made him believe that all things were possible. That was before fire reigned.
Walter knew better now. The entire world did. Dragons were not beautiful mythical animals, they were destructive monsters who fed on the ash of the world. In humanity’s attempt to save themselves and decimate their new/old foe they’d only hastened a dull, gloomy world of ash. A world were dragons thrived and they slowly choked to death.
Being British, Walter did what the British excelled at best – persevere. He managed to escape the early panic and death that crashed through London and make it north. Using his keen mind and the books he salvaged along the way, he gathered what souls he could find and made them a home in stone castle in Northumberland. They were eking out an existence, but as food dwindled and the temperature dropped, it was hard to hold onto any sense of hope.
Especially now that the people who looked to him to lead were no longer listening to him. Hunger won out over sense, so what crops he’d plan to have mature and spread had been first been pillaged by the most impatient of the castle’s populace and then been all but burnt to a crisp by a dragon who’d tailed them. He’d been able to save the foolish, starving troop from the dragon with the help of his friends Floyd and Slade; but with the fate that awaited them – a slow, painful death – Walter couldn’t help but feel he’d done them more harm than good.
---
Their supplies were running dangerously low. He’d spent the evening before talking it over with his second in command, and seriously, how one of the two Army Rangers were not leading their group still flummoxed Oliver. He did not have the training of John Diggle or his wife Lyla Michaels. He did not have the intelligence of triangulation system creator and operator (and love of his life) Felicity Smoak. While he was learning, he couldn’t handle the Agusta A109 helicopter with the same agility as their pilot Sara Lance. All Oliver had was a good aim, thanks to being over-indulged by his rich parents, with archery lessons since he was six; and a dragon’s tooth around his neck from his first kill.
Luck, fury, and good aim. That is what brought the dragon down that day – the beast that had burned his parents alive – and still people far more suited to leadership deferred to him. His sister, Thea, had been with him as luck favored him, magic hour as he come to call dusk was when the seemingly invulnerable dragons were weak. Their stellar vision failed them in the pale light as day moved into night. Luck had blinded his enemy, fury over his parents loss fueled him, and his aim – which his father had bragged about – allowed him to save his own life, as well as, the lives of the group with which they’d been traveling.
Dig and Lyla had been in that small community, along with his best friend Tommy Merlyn, his girlfriend Laurel Lance and her sister, Sara. As they moved east, towards America’s heartland looking for a safe place to bunker down and survive the group’s numbers swelled and waned, as more survivors found them and others were lost.
It had been Diggle who’d come to him to form the group’s security/hunting party. In those early days Dig had been their leader, but the story of Oliver’s kill and his continued recklessly in battle against the dragons made him a figure head to the larger group. Since he was too stubborn to be talked out of things, even by Thea’s tears, he’d gone from deferring to Dig to leading the team; though the most important decisions continued to be made with input from the Army Rangers.
Much like the larger group, their team, grew and shrank as they made their way towards what they prayed was safety. Initially, he fought to keep his sister and friends from the team, as success cost them more human lives than dragons. That all started to change when they picked up an IT genius in Arizona. She hadn’t looked like much when he first saw her, her dyed blonde hair browning and a mouth that seemed to move faster than her brilliant mind. As a new member to their group Felicity was being regaled with the story of his first dragon kill, and instead of “oohing and awing” as everyone else did, she’d interrupted and asked questions.
Lyla had been at the meal, listening to Felicity’s suggestion about jerry-rigging a triangulation system, and insisted the younger woman come and speak with him and Dig. He hadn’t expected much from the dirty-faced newbie when he first laid eyes on her, but the more she spoke, the more she impressed and the more he thought maybe.
It had taken over a month to get all the materials Felicity needed to create her system and then a few more weeks of testing in on smaller animals, but when the kinks had been worked out, Oliver actually happily anticipated their next dragon encountered. If it worked … and it had. Not perfectly, but death was replaced by injury and the dragon had gone down. And more dragons followed. They still lost people, good people, but it happened less and with practice and successful kills they all got better.
Though it had been difficult, the new approach forced him into allowing those closest to him onto his team as they refused to let him take the risk alone. “If you’re fighting, I’m fighting.” Hearing those words from Tommy, and repeated by Thea had been both a blessing and a curse. To feel the depth of their love and commitment to him and the mission humbled him, while their being in danger scared him like nothing else.
Over the months, their teams solidified; when they found the helicopter Sara’s piloting skills were put to use and they found a new and extreme way to hunt. Along with Lyla, Dig, and Laurel they had all become jumpers – parachuting from the helicopter to drag the dragon from the sky with the use of Felicity’s system and trapping it on the ground to take out; that final kill step became easier once they scavenged a Chieftain Tank. Dig and Lyla rolled the tank and when Roy, the ne'er-do-well his sister had fallen for who’d actually turned out to be one of their best jumpers wasn’t leaping he absorbed training on the tank like a sponge. Nyssa was their best jumper, her aim rivaled him and Dig, and she was fearless in the face of anything. The final pieces that rounded out their team into a well-oiled dragon slaying machine was the Yamashiros, Maseo and Tatsu had lost their son and relished taking down every dragon they could.
After they got the group settled in a relatively safe place the team continued on based on the theory Felicity and Nyssa had developed from examining dragons. Oliver could still remember how deliberately they had explained their hypothesis. “So they’re all chicks. I don’t get what the big deal is,” Tommy remarked as they sat huddled in an empty area of the missile silo that the larger group was making their home.
“That’s all you got from what Felicity said?” Sara asked, while Laurel hissed, “Chicks?” at the same time and slapped her boyfriend on the back of his head.
Nyssa let out a long suffering sigh. “What do you know about fish?”
“That I miss sushi,” Tommy replied glibly as he rubbed his head. Before anyone could jump on him, Nyssa explained, “Female fish lay their eggs and then the males come to fertilize them. We’ve seen the eggs, and thankfully we’re been able to study a few before you destroyed them. None of them had been fertilized.”
“So fish and dragons have that in common, great,” Roy said clearly unenthused. “What’s the big deal about that?”
“Statistics,” Felicity replied.
“I thought this was a biology lesson not a math class.”
“Shut it Merlyn,” Sara snapped. “Let the brains talk.”
Oliver could still remember how Felicity had smiled her thanks at Sara. He’d been fighting his attraction to her for months and she’d looked particularly beautiful in the pale light with her blue eyes glistening with excitement. They had all listened as she explained her theory – that there was only one male dragon within the population – the reasons behind it and what that could mean.
“Dinosaurs eat man. Woman inherits the earth. What?” Tommy asked when everyone’s focus had shifted from Felicity to him. “That was the gist of it right? We find the male, kill it, the dragons die out and humanity is once again at the top of the food chain.”
“Not the best analogy, but you’re not wrong,” Felicity concurred. A week long debate had followed. No one doubted the assumption Felicity and Nyssa had come to, but what to do about it was another story. Should they and could they take about the effort to track down and kill the male dragon? That had been a pretty unanimous yes. Oliver had hesitated, not because he wasn’t willing to take the risk, but he knew Felicity would have to come with them and Thea would insist. He’d risked their lives countless times and loathed the idea of doing it again. After an exasperating conversation with his sister, one which included a put up or shut up in regards to his feelings about their technical support – he’d finally relented, on both counts.
When they left a few days later with London has their destination since that was where the dragons first emerged his IT genius was also his partner in every way. Some days, hell most days, that had been a comfort; but over five hundred miles from London and low on supplies, even the brightness of Felicity’s smile could not lift his sullen mood. They’d come so far, risking everything, and now that they were so close it appeared that they were going to fail. He felt like he did that day long ago as he watched his parents burn alive. Useless and hopeless.
Roy’s report of people following dragon activity changed all that. A survivors’ colony meant supplies, supplies meant being able to continue onto London, finding the male, killing it – it meant saving humanity.
---
There was a time when Walter welcomed the sight of strangers. To know that there were more people out there, that they were not the last bastion of humanity, fed his soul. When new faces stopped appearing he’d been disheartened, but later, as they dealt with difficulties farming he was grateful not to have additional mouths to feed.
With their crops destroyed and their cellars precariously low seeing a troop of fresh faces – heavily armed at that – was a new worry that he did not know they could face. They had a few weapons, but only Floyd and Slade were capable of defending themselves and the castle’s residents; and they were no match for a tank.
“Floyd take up position on tower, get a bead on the leader.”
“You want me to take the shot?” the younger American man asked.
“Only if you have to,” Walter replied. Floyd nodded his understanding, grabbed his rifle and raced towards the crumbling turret. “Once you’ve locked up start moving everyone to the tunnels.”
Slade gave a slight tilt of his head. “Try and come back alive,” he said his Australian accent thicker with concern.
“That’s the plan,” he assured him. “If not –”
“We’ll find a way to keep them safe,” his friend promised. Walter patted his shoulder, before they made their way to the gate. His gaze touched upon the faces of people who’d become his makeshift family, seeing the children in particular, strengthen his resolved. No matter what the future would bring, he vowed none of them would die today.
“Good luck brother,” Slade offered as the closed the gate behind him. Walter waited until he heard the sound of wooden timbers scraping against doors, sealing them, before stepping towards the convoy.
As he stepped forward, the trio that had exited the vehicles straightened. They made an interesting pairing even though they were all dressed in similar fatigues; two tall, muscular men – one Caucasian and the other black like himself – and a woman, a lithe, bespectacled brunette, who stood between them. Walter watched as her hand flexed on the younger man’s forearm, before releasing, and the two men stepped forward. He saw the two men exchange a few more words, before the older of the two stopped and angled himself between the woman and the turret – successfully blocking Floyd’s line of sight of her.
The younger man wore scruff, his blue eyes were cool and calculating. Everything about him seemed hard. Once they were a few feet apart they both stopped. Walter felt the weight of those eyes as he was studied by the man standing opposite of him. “Walter Steele,” he offered in greeting.
“Oliver Queen,” the man replied. His accent marking him as an American. He indicated behind him, “John Diggle and Felicity Smoak.” At his name, the man Walter took as a solider – he held himself like Floyd did – nodded a greeting. “Hi,” a feminine, American voice offered. Walter saw a hand pop out from behind the sentry and offer a wave.
“It’s a …” Walter paused. Long engrained habit would have had him saying it was a pleasure to meet them, but the circumstances they were in made it an inconvenience. The chaos he experienced had not completely wiped his manners away, but he could not offer the easy white lie that they dictated. “Surprise,” he finally decided on. “It’s a surprise to meet you all.”
“Yes,” Oliver agreed. “We haven’t come across anyone for a while.”
That was not a revelation Walter. Everyone within three hundred kilometers resided within the castle and it had been nearly a year since they’d seen any travelers. “We’ve had limited visitors of late.”
“Anyone from the south? From London?” the woman asked.
“Felicity,” Oliver seethed her name in warning.
“No. Not for a very long time,” he answered his despair evident in his voice. Walter was certain it showed on his gaunt face as well.
Sympathy flashed on Oliver’s face, the emotion humanized him for the first time. “We’re headed that way. We’re hoping to stop and rest here for a few days.”
Heading towards London? The thought of it dumbfounded Walter. London for all intents and purposes was gone. Laid to waste by the dragons and by the last report the beasts had overrun the whole of the city. Traveling there was beyond foolish. Doubting the sanity of the people standing in front him, he was about to give Floyd the signal – most likely signing his own death warrant in the process – when he finally grasped what Oliver wore around his neck. It was a tooth. It had taken Walter so long to realize what it was because the size and shape of it was unlike any he’d seen. It dawn on his what kind of tooth it was – a dragon’s tooth. He felt his heart seize, not in trepidation, but with something much worse: hope.
---
Diplomacy and patience were not traits one would associate with Oliver Queen, John knew this; Oliver knew it as well, but he was unwilling to place anyone else in a precarious situation. When it came to unknowns Oliver would risk himself first, trusting that he’d protect and lead their team should the worst happen. When they’d been strategizing their approach last night he, Lyla and Felicity knew better than to argue that even though Tommy was the sweet talker of the group.
Lyla, however, insisted that Felicity be present. Oliver fought that suggestion vehemently and his wife had been subjected to what Roy termed his deadly stare. If looks could kill the young man would have been dead ten times over when he first made a move on Oliver’s sister. John decided then that the kid was either brave or stupid, not only for taking on Oliver’s protective instincts, but Thea Queen herself. Of course love did things to a man, he understood that from personal experience.
It had been that deadly look which convinced him that Oliver should lead. Having been a solider he knew the cold, confident determination a leader needed to have when giving a potentially deadly order. He was capable of a lot of things, but not that. Lyla could do it, easily, but she hadn’t been the one to kill the dragon that day. Oliver had become a living legend and hero in that moment. He had denied when John approached him, proving to him that Oliver was smarter than he looked at the time.
There were days that John was grateful it had been Oliver. Carrying the weight of ultimate responsibility was not an easy thing. Lyla would have handled it, but he was relieved that it hadn’t come to that. Other days it would make things easier if she could dole out the orders, though Felicity’s presence wouldn’t be necessary if it was Lyla or Tommy out here. No she was here to make sure that Oliver thought instead of just reacted.
It had taken him promising to keep her safe, and Felicity’s loud voice, for Oliver to acquiesce. That’s why John was out there to see a potentially dangerous moment turn into just potential as after a few minutes of hushed words their convoy was welcomed into the castle.
John had been surprised by the number of inhabitants who had greeted them; for the most part they were welcomed with open curiosity though there was a fair share of distrust evident as well. Tommy did what he did best, charm, with the aid of Roy. Gathering the children and number of adults for shadow-puppet theater, everyone had stuck around long enough to hear them tell the story of Oliver’s first dragon kill. When they moved on Star Wars the gathering broke up some as people went about the necessities of making castle encampment life run. Laurel and Thea stayed to assist their significant others in community relations, Tatsu and Maseo went to assist in the kitchen, Nyssa and Sara were responsible for setting and guarding their gear, while Felicity and Lyla went to look at the underground tunnel system being built to survive dragon attack; leaving him with an agitated Oliver – he was always like that when Felicity wasn’t in sight – and Walter and the man’s inner circle.
Floyd Lawton had been an American soldier on vacation in Scotland and Slade Wilson an active ASIS agent working on a joint task force in London with SIS on Dragon Day. It was clear that they deferred to Walter, though it appeared to John that the trio worked together to lead the castle colony. They seemed like good men, but so far, he and Oliver had little luck negotiating terms to trade for supplies.
“You really killed a dragon kid?” Slade asked. “Or is that a fairytale your boys are weaving?”
John didn’t like the tone in Slade’s voice, but he knew now what would need to be done to get supplies. They’d have to slay a dragon.
---
Lyla had watched with amusement as Felicity talked support and if they took into account soil aeration and the water table in the area and what they were doing for ventilation with the man in charge of the tunnel crew. She could tell the math the younger woman started spouting off was making his head hurt. Felicity’s genius had a way of doing that. The man had given up trying to understand her, so Felicity had started reworking their crude drawings. “I wish I had an up-to-date land survey of the area. These adjustments are best guess without it.”
“Your guesses are usually pretty solid.”
Felicity’s cheeks pinked at the compliment. She stretched up from the table, working out the kinks in back from hunching over it for the last half-hour. “I’m not Mary Poppins.”
“I know. She was only practically perfect,” Lyla deadpanned. Felicity tried to hit her with a withering stare, but when she only cocked an eyebrow back at her, the brunette threw her hands up in defeat. Lyla pushed herself off the wall and joined her friend at the table. Felicity’s neat printing now lined rudimentary sketch with suggestions and variables for consideration. Lyla had gotten past being amazed at how quickly her mind worked. “Even with the ventilation the stone above them could act as a heat conduit. Those tunnels could easily turn into an oven.”
“I know.” Concern marred her brow. “Damned if you do, damned if you don't.”
“Roy really needs to think up a new motto for us.” They chuckled, but Felicity’s face turned serious. “Have you told him yet?” she asked. Lyla sighed. They’d been having the same conversation for a month now.
“Do you really have to ask?” she countered.
Felicity shuffled closer, so they could keep their voices low. “No, but I keep wondering why not?”
“And I keep telling you, it doesn’t change anything, not really. Johnny would want leave us some place safe and we all know that there’s no such thing.” Lyla saw her about to protest, to suggest the very place they were now as possible safety; she steamrolled right over that train of thought. She was pregnant, not injured, and more of an asset to the mission than a detriment. No matter how their mission ended – in success or failure – she needed to be with Johnny seeing it through. “There won’t be true safety until the male is dead.”
“And if I’m wrong? If you jeopardize the baby or worse because of me,” she said, her blue eyes pleading with her.
“My choices aren’t your responsibility,” Lyla reminded Felicity, offering her comfort by clasping her shoulder.
“Lyla, you and Dig just aren’t my friends, you’re my family. Protecting you is my responsibility.”
Touched, she replied the only way she could, “And the same goes for me. How can I protect any of you if I’m not there? I have to be there Felicity. I’ll promise to be cautious until I’m blue in the face, but I need you to understand that.”
“I do.” At the skeptically look Lyla flashed, Felicity offered a weak laugh. “Here,” she said pointing to head. “Here,” she said placing her hand over her heart, “not so much. I’ll work on that,” she promised, “and I’ll stop hocking you on this, but if you ever need to talk about it; or want moral support when you talk to Dig … I’m here for you.”
Lyla smiled, and pulled Felicity into her arms for a quick hug. “I know, and I appreciate that more than you know.”
---
It happened all too quickly and slowly at the same time. There had been nothing he could do to save his friends; they’d been dead when they hit the ground. The only thing he could do, and had done, was kill the dragon that had cost the Yamashiros their lives. It had been so long since a hunt had gone wrong, even longer since the consequence was death and not injury. After luring the beast towards the harpoon cannon and watching Dig take him, Oliver had felt nothing but numb. Even has his team landed and gathered around him before moving to collect and bury Maseo and Tatsu he had felt nothing.
He did not feel the strain of his muscles as they dug their graves or hear the words spoken over their bodies before they were laid to rest in foreign ground. If anyone had reached out to him, he hadn’t noticed, he’d simply turned and walked away after the final shovel of dirt had been heaped on top of what used to be his comrades.
He hadn’t felt anything until he entered the castle grounds and saw the celebration taking place. Smiling faces, food, music and dance, laughter – there was such joy – and seeing it made him ache with righteous fury. Two people, two very good people, were dead and mourning was chased away by gregarious festivity.
In his white hot rage Oliver wasn’t certain what he yelled out. The jovial party seized and faces fell when confronted with his disgusted. It wasn’t until Felicity shouted, “OLIVER!” in her loud voice that he stopped. All eyes were on him, he could deal with the anger, but the sympathy of strangers and disappointment in Felicity’s eyes cut at his soul. He turned and stormed from the gathering, deep into the castle away from whatever happened next be it a revival of the party or quiet breakdown of it.
“Oliver Jonas Queen if you take one more step you’ll be sorry,” Felicity called out, stopping him in tracks. He fisted his hands, but did not turn to look at her. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to have any kind of discussion with her.
She sensed enough of his mood and knew not to touch him, but he could feel her presence close behind him. “I know,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know how much it hurts and how responsible you feel, but you cannot begrudge those people their first taste of happiness and hope.”
He spun then to meet her gaze, “There isn’t any.” Felicity said his name and reached for him, but he jerked back away from her and the empathy she offered. Her eyes flashed with hurt and he berated himself for causing it. Everything had spun out of his control in the last few hours and he no idea how to get himself back on sure footing, or even if he could. He closed his eyes in hopes of shutting out the world.
He felt the warmth of Felicity’s hand as she placed it over his heart. The rapid pace of it began to slow at her touch. Her voice was solid and true when as she said, “There is hope. I know that there is because you are not alone.”
Oliver had to see her after those words. The hurt was gone from her eyes when their gazes met again and in its place was a mixture of love and determination. “I know,” she continued, “because I believe in you.”
Her love and belief filled him, washing everything else away. Oliver couldn’t voice what her words, her strength, her beauty meant to him; so he’d show her, starting with a desperate kiss.
---
Roy stood stoically at Oliver’s side as he apologized the following morning. The fact that he did so was a momentous event to Roy since Oliver wasn’t one for acts of contrition. He’d even heard Thea complain about the fact that the only person who heard an “I’m sorry” from Oliver was Felicity. It had to have happened at some point, he knew, but having never actually heard the words from his mentor’s mouth, he wasn’t convinced that Oliver could actually say them.
Granted the word ‘sorry’ was not actually used, but the sentiment was there. Experiencing it kind of floored him, so he missed a chuck of the conversation happening around him. “We cannot spare anyone,” Walter insisted. They were still on the topic of volunteers. They needed bodies, preferably with training, to fill the void left by the deaths of Maseo and Tatsu. No one would be able to replace the couple, or what they meant to the team, but they had no idea what they’d be facing in London. The more people fighting with them the better was the general consensus. Roy figured if handholding was needed, he’d rather be short of resources than babysit – that type of distraction would harm more than help.
Even after hearing Felicity’s theory, Walter was unwilling to allow any of his people to volunteer. If he was in his place, Roy figured he’d do the same. They’d successfully brought down the dragon who was threatening their encampment, but at a high price. If he could see to it that the people he cared about didn’t have to meet it, he would. Unfortunately that was not an option opened to him.
“Whose bright idea is this harebrained theory?” Slade asked. It was the first time anyone beside Walter had spoken on the subject.
“Mine,” Felicity replied from behind him.
“Had to be the smart one,” Slade grumbled. He shot Walter as regretful look before stating, “All right then count me in.”
“Slade, no,” Walter protested, but the man waved him off.
“It’s a chance to end them. I have to take,” the Australian insisted. “So do I,” Floyd echoed stepping next to other man.
“You’ll be risking your lives on a hypothesis,” Walter protested. “And you’re need here.”
“How long will there be a here if we don’t try?” Floyd asked his voice low so the no one outside the immediate group could hear them. From the supply exchange they done earlier, Roy knew the castle was hurting. The way things were going they had a handful of months if they rationed tightly, but most likely less.
Their mission was a long shot, a Hail Mary pass at the end of a game. Roy figured dying quick trying was better than dying slowly without the attempt. It seemed as if Floyd and Slade felt the same.
Walter made one last ditch attempt to keep his friends there, but in the end, Slade Wilson and Floyd Lawton joined their crazy-band of dragon slayers.
Next stop London or hell, Roy thought. Of course once he saw what was left of the city, he realized they could be the same place.
---
Tommy watched as a dragon twice the size of the others swooped through the sky. Everything around London was gray; the charred ruins, the ground, the sky. It was a depressing site to behold. If he’d been on the scouting mission with Laurel he would have talked about it, not seriously in the beginning, he’d crack a joke, getting her annoyed at him before emoting more serious feelings. That approach didn’t work so well with the other Lance sister. While Laurel found that aspect of him charming, Sara did not.
Dragon Day changed everyone he knew, but none more so than the free-spirited girl Sara had once been. While there was still a marshmallow center there, it was so buried in hard shell that getting a glimpse of it rarely happened. Usually Felicity had to go a fairly epic and innuendo filled babble to see a glimmer of that girl.
“The ridging is different on its head,” Sara noted as the dragon glided a little too close for comfort. “Given the size and color difference, I think we have our male.”
He was about to agree with her conclusion when the creature swooped down suddenly and clamped its large jaw around the neck of a smaller dragon. Tommy watched, feeling sickened at the sight and sound of distress wrenched from the smaller of two, as the larger animal flung the other around a few times, before slamming it hard on the ground. It roasted it a moment later and the suspected male began feasting on the ashes.
“Did he just go Hannibal Lecter?” Tommy asked. He knew he was pale, as he’d felt the blood drain from his face.
---
Two of the other scouting teams brought back stories of cannibalism as well. If the dragons were resorting to eating themselves that meant they were naturally dying out. A good thing, unless the male managed to go back into hibernation; that would only mean future generations would have to suffer has they had.
They had worked out a two phased plan. Of course phase two, hunt and destroy all eggs, would only matter and be enacted if phase one succeeded. Even with the male snacking on them, the female dragons stayed near, providing him protection. They would need to draw the male’s attention, while distracting as many of the female dragons as they could.
It had been decided that the best way to do that was offer the male a stationary snack. Oliver was going to be the bait, much to Thea and Felicity’s consternation, and would be stationing himself atop a tall smokestack. Felicity had rigged a crossbow with a few explosive charges. He would have a few precious seconds while the dragon inhaled air to produce fire, to shoot the explosive into its mouth.
“I don’t like this plan,” Felicity reiterated as they prepared to carry it out.
The plan was dangerous for all of them. If he wasn’t able to draw the male’s attention quickly enough, he’d be leaving his team exposed and vulnerable for too long a time. That thought ate away at Oliver, but he was doing his best to push it aside so he could concentrate on what had to be done. “Felicity you never like any of my plans.”
She pouted, “That’s because they all involve you risking your life.”
“We’re all at risk,” he reminded her. Oliver hated that. Putting his family and friends in jeopardy, but what other choice did they have? It was risk them or world. He would always put himself in the most hazardous spot – he’d learned that after losing his parents, he’d rather sacrifice his own life than one of someone he cared about – especially Thea and Felicity. Every time Thea jumped he felt like he was losing another small sliver of himself, which is why he tried to have her backing up Felicity as much as he could. Of course doing that meant risking someone else, which wasn’t fair, so he hadn’t been able to hold Thea back as much as he liked and now … now his entire team, every person he held dear, could die. It could save the world if Felicity’s hypothesis was correct, which their scouting seemed to confirm, but it could condemn them all. Logically, Oliver knew their lives weighed against the world meant nothing in the long run, but his soul; the anguish he felt at the risk would be nothing compared to the loss of another team member, and he could not even contemplate losing his sister or Felicity.
“That changes today,” she promised stepping closer to him and cupping his cheek, bringing him back from his fraught thoughts and into the warmth that radiated from her. “Just remember, you still owe me a proper date, so fight to live not to die.”
A smile tugged at his lips. Only Felicity. “I keep my promises,” he told her before placing a lingering kiss on her forehead.
---
From the ground Nyssa watched as Oliver’s shot missed its marked. The combustible arrow went wide and exploded near one of the dragon’s wings. As the dragon rushed Oliver’s position, Nyssa broke away from the group and ran towards the smokestack. Her instincts wared within her. Leaving her team behind – leaving Sara – sliced at her like a physical pain; but the objective, the only thing that really matter at the end of this day was bringing down the male. Whatever sacrifices that needed to be made would mean nothing if that did not happen.
So she raced, and as she did so, she watched Oliver leap from the stack axe in hand. The blade cut into the dragon’s leg and the animal let out a ferocious roar, as the axe torn down the length of the appendage to its foot. The dragon dipped low and spun in the air, flinging Oliver from him.
He tucked and tumbled, landing hard on ground. The thud of the landing resounded through the ruined street. When she reached him, Oliver was struggling to get up, but Nyssa saw his efforts where in vain as his left leg had broken on impact.
The dragon was swooping back around when Oliver ordered, “Find the bow.”
“I need to move you first,” Nyssa argued.
He pushed her away from him. “It’s magic hour Nyssa. We don’t have much time. Find the crossbow.”
She nodded and hurried to make her way through debris towards the tower. Above the male dragon screeched and blew fire at anything that approached him. That worked in their favor as his distress brought a small throng of female dragons towards their location. Frantically she scanned the area looking for the weapon to bring the beast down while hoping perhaps Dig and Lyla could maneuver the tank their way.
Nyssa knew couldn’t rely on that possibility so she continued her desperate search. As dusk just started to darken she found the weapon, scooping it up she raced back towards Oliver waving her arms and making as much noise as possible in hopes of drawing the male’s attention. “Nyssa,” Oliver shouted her name in warning.
She twirled on the spot, like a graceful ballerina. The male was coming to hover above her, drawing in breath to unleash fire down upon them. In a quick, seamless motion she lifted the bow, aimed and released the arrow.
The arrow sailed into the dragon’s mouth, hitting it mark, and its own fire caused the explosive to blow severing its head from it body. The force of explosion threw her back into Oliver, who managed to cushion her and then roll as the females dragons swarmed the body and began feasting on it.
---
In the three months since they slayed the male dragon they managed a fair amount of progress. They let the females turn on each other and scavenged for eggs, destroying every one of them that they found. When the population dropped to less than a handful, the team had gone in and killed the remaining dragons. Once the area was safe, Floyd minus his right eye and Slade minus his left – “Between us we have pair,” the solider had joked – returned north to report their success and hopefully bring the survivors back toward the city.
While they were away, the team worked to make a section of the city inhabitable. Some of the work, clearing spaces and tilting soil in hopes of being able to grow crops again, was easier even a broken leg, a broken arm, a few dislocated fingers and shoulder between them; along with the various scrapes and burns. Other things, like erecting a radio tower and piecemealing equipment together to broadcast and receive messages were difficult. Though adding to their ranks with the castle’s former inhabitants aided all their efforts. A large group milled around outside the makeshift radio tower. Everything was finally set to make their first communication attempt. “We’re ready,” Walter said, flipping the switch and the radio crackled to life.
“Are you sure I can’t call us the Pork Chop Express?” Felicity asked with a grin.
“Felicity,” Oliver sighed with exasperation.
“I know, I know. 80s movies aren’t a thing everywhere, but Roy and Tommy promised to put on a version of Big Trouble In Little China as soon as they figure out how to cast the shadow of Jack’s truck and Wang Chi's bus.”
“Miss Smoak,” Walter prompted amusement and excitement clearly visible on his face. “They’re waiting.”
“Oh, right,” she flushed with embarrassment. When Oliver chuckled she stuck her tongue at him quickly, before putting on her serious face and pushing down on the button that would hopefully transmit her voice to other survivors out there. “This is London Terminal Control TC broadcasting. We’re looking for anyone out there. Please respond.”
There was more static and popping over the radio, before a heavily French accented male voice came choppily through. “This … Versailles … have many … respond.”
The response drew an immediate cheer from the crowd. They were not alone in the world.