Finally Home

Chapter 12

"So what do you think?" Oliver smiled, leading Tommy, John, and I into his father's old factory.

Over the past few days, Oliver came up with the idea of turning the ground level floor of the factory into a club. As a way to hide our hidden operation in the basement, and to explain where he spends his nights.

"Great spot for a nightclub or what?" Oliver asked.

"Sweet. Though I gotta tell you, if you're thinking about calling it Queens. I don't think you're gonna get the clientele that you were hoping for." Tommy quipped.

"Private office." Oliver said, pointing to the upper balcony.

"For the private one on one meetings, I would imagine." Tommy smiled.

"Hopefully the occasional two on one meeting." Oliver responded.

Tommy let out a laugh, as John and I stood behind them. I didn't really want to engage in a conversation, and John was probably used to being ignored by now.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Tommy asked. "It's not like you really have any experience in running anything. How about tomorrow night the two of us, we go and scope out the competition. There's a new club opening downtown. It's called poison. Max Fuller owns it."

"Max Fuller?" Oliver questioned.

Tommy hummed a yes.

"I slept with his fiance." Oliver blatantly said.

"Before the wedding." Tommy said.

"It was at the rehearsal dinner." Oliver responded.

"The rehearsal dinner is technically before the wedding. Besides who stays mad at a castaway?" Tommy smiled, looking down at his phone. "Damn it, I gotta roll. I see you later man. Good place."

Tommy walked up to John and I.

"You need a ride home?" Tommy asked me.

"Nah, I'm good." I said.

"See you at home then." Tommy smiled, and left.

Oliver turned and walked to John and I.

"So, what do you think?" Oliver asked, directing the question to John.

"Well, I'm here to provide security, sir, not commentary." John said.

"Come on, Dig, do me a favor. Speak freely, please." Oliver smiled.

"Well this is The Glades, right? Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet." John replied.

"I am Oliver Queen, right? People would stand in line for three hours if I open a club." Oliver said.

"And no one who actually lives in The Glades, would see a penny of those cover charges." John retorted.

"We make it a successful business. We gentrify the neighborhood." Oliver smiled.

"I was wondering when we would get to that. The white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised. And all by his lonesome, with no help from anybody." John countered.

"Wow, you don't think very much of me, do you?" Oliver questioned.

"No, actually, sir, I have a very high regard for how perceptive you are." John smirked and nodded to Oliver, leaving the factory soon after.

~~

Oliver somehow found one of Deadshot's bullets, asked me to look into it. After inspecting the bullet, I discovered it was 7.62 millimeter round. I did some digging on the computer, and found that the money trail leads back to the Bratva, the Russian mob. Finally, some good luck.

I grabbed a hoodie and headed out, to a car garage. That is most likely run by the Bratva. I pulled the hood over my head so no one could notice me. As I walked into the car garage, I pulled the hood back down, so I didn't seem like a threat. There were two men speaking Russian and working on a car. I ultimately decided to speak to the men in Russian, knowing they would probably understand me better.

"I'm looking for Alexi Leonov." I said in, drawing their attention.

"There's no one here by that name." One of the men responded in Russian.

"Not in your garage. In the basement underneath." I said, walking closer to the men.

The man behind him pulled a gun moving closer to me. I grabbed it, twisting it so his hand was stuck. I pulled harder bring the man to his knees, causing him to scream in pain. I then yanked the gun from his hand, taking out the clip. I pulled up the side of my shirt to reveal a tattoo.

"I'm Bratva." I said, resuming the conversation in Russian. "I want to see Alexi Leonov."

The man walked towards me, not breaking his eye contact with me.

"Pleased to meet you." He said, in english.

The man led me down to the basement.

"I apologize. We meant no disrespect to a captain. Particularly a female, American one. So, how can I be of assistance?" The man asked.

"I'm in the market for a hired gun. Someone the organization's used before. His calling card is a 7.62 millimeter round laced with curare." I said.

"I know no man who uses such tools." The man responded.

"But you can find out who does." I countered.

"First, we will drink to each other's health. Then I will look into the identity of this man you seek." He said, handing me a shot. "I will also confirm that you are really a Bratva captain. Should this not be the case, I will send my mechanic here to find you and kill you along with your family."

~~Hi, Fallen_Angel here. I hope all of you are having a good day. Be good people.~~