Owner Pose
Oliver Queen It had been a few days since Oliver Queen had been abducted from the streets of Central City. No presence on facial recognition cameras anywhere, his phone tracking had gone dead shortly after the abduction, and there was no indications of where he might be. No ransom notes, or any indication of what his abductor wanted. Queen Consolidated had no reason to worry - Oliver had booked time off for his trip, and unless anyone from Team Arrow told them, there was no reason to think anything was amiss.

Then, right around 5am, just before it had been 36 hours since he was abducted, the tracker on his phone came back on-line. Gotham City. Chinatown.

The address belonged to a warehouse of dubious ownership in a quieter, and slightly more rundown part of town. Seemingly abandoned. And yet if anyone went there, it would seem that there were people there, from the way there was light from within, and shadows moving against windows. It was very much not abandoned. And Oliver's phone, at least, was very much inside.
Felicity Smoak Few days.

Longest few days in Felicity's life. Forget the five years on an island; she didn't know him then, AND the Queens didn't have her as a resource to find him. (She maintains he would have been found, at most, a week after making landfall..)

At first, there was the question as to why the initial phone call came in from Center City. Then, it was all too clear why. Hotel room booked, ticket purchased- all that is easy enough to track, and Felicity could always say that it was part of the investigation. As a result, the room was searched, everything was gone over, but with no clues.

That was after every red light camera was searched, and every once in awhile, a flicker of a suspicious looking car passed into sight and back out. Center City isn't rigged for her use like Starling is. CCTV cameras had been hacked into a utilized; again, the hints of a trail that never seemed to go anywhere.

How do others work these hours?

It all had a VERY frustrated Felicity back at square one. The kind of frustration that makes the tech genius wonder if she's lost her mojo sort of frustration. How could she //not// find him? She's seated at her computer console, her monitors all flickering in and out as she searches. The NSA satellites are hers, and she's put in enough of a firewall and viral load that if they try to wrest it back in the name of 'National Security', they'll be in for a big problem. It's hard to pin anything when there are no coordinates, however. And even checking history on the pictures is time consuming.

The blonde is leaning on her elbow, propping her head up, glasses askew, eyes half lidded in that dozing 'not sleep' when she hears a *ping* come from one of the side monitors. It's faint, but it's there, and it jars her to something resembling sonambulistic wakefulness. (Think zombie!).

One blink, two.. and she stares at the screen, demanding that her eyes focus on what it's telling her. In the next few strikes of her keys, she gets a great deal of information regarding the phone. Place. Movement. When it was last one, and that position.

Now that there are coordinates, here come the high resolution, high quality pictures from the satellites, and they square down to a warehouse. Staring for a few heartbeats that seem like forever, Felicity picks up the phone and dials a number.

And it's not Oliver's. It's John's.

And a very sleeping sounding John Diggle answers the phone, though not before a couple of seconds of silence passes as he tries to actually //hold// the phone. "Yeah?" There's a pause before, "Tell me you got something."

"Would I call if I didn't?" Felicity is trying not to sound too hopeful, but.. it is what it is. Found in the most simplistic way. A tower ping. "Oliver's phone is in a warehouse in Gotham. Are you.."

John doesn't even let Felicity finish the thought, "Were you really going to tell me you were going to the Gotham warehouse district alone? You? You. As in.."

"Yeah.." Felicity bites at the bottom of her lip, "Kinda. Want to come along? I'll even let you drive." Easier that way for her to bring her laptop.

It's not ten minutes later before they're on the road, the pair quiet.

Another hour or so on the road, and the dark colored car has its lights turned off, thrown into neutral while the engine is shut down. It rolls as quietly as it can down a side access road before it comes to a brakeless stop. (No brake lights!)

"Now," John begins, "Remember the plan. I'll go in first. You.."

Too late. Felicity is already out the door.

"...completely ignore the plan," John finishes.
Oliver Queen The warehouse is quiet, and from all outward appearances truly is abandoned. But as Felicity approaches the door, she'd find tread marks by the large sliding gateway, clearly fresh. And there is a slight buzz of sound from inside, low, like conversation. The smells of Chinatown mask anything that she might be able to discern from outside the warehouse, but most assuredly there are people there.

What she does not fully know is that on the other side of the door are a few assassins. Except at the moment they are sitting around a small tv watching a re-run of Golden Girls, laughing at Rose's latest tale of St. Olaf. There is not much in the way of alert within the warehouse, and they are not expecting any visitors at all.
Felicity Smoak Diggle is experienced, he's //good// at what he does, and it's not just 'being Oliver's bodyguard'. He's a trained agent and is able to keep up if not surpass most anyone or anything on the ground. Felicity, however? Keeping up with her gives him agita. When she moves, he's got his pistol out, pointed to the ground but readied as he follows her silently. He's not calling out to the blonde poser spy..

Felicity isn't doing too badly. She's used to warehouses now, thanks to the Verdant. She has a good idea of wiring, of networks, of what the power draw is for it, and where power supplies would be. The hacker in black leather (blame all the spy movies she's ever seen!) pulls at one of the side of her jacket and glances back at the approaching John. There's something of a sheepish smile as she realizes that perhaps she'd gone a little far, and is ready to back out, if only a little.

"I'm going to deal with the cameras," she whisper-reminds John. And, it's back to the plan. Well, Plan B.

Felicity's job.. kill the cameras first. Kill the lights once John has worked out where the resistance may be, and that'll give him the opening move.

Felicity begins to move back to the car to retrieve her laptop. Now on coms, she murmurs, "Three... two... one... cameras. Gone." The cameras are now on a loop display, even with the timestamp moving ahead. "Thirty seconds to lights."
Oliver Queen Within the warehouse itself, there is but a skeleton crew remaining. The al Ghul's have all shipped out, Ra's having decided that he had advanced his sinister plot enough, Talia likely having been bored with the idea of taunting her former pupil and seeking out new and more exciting adventures, and Nyssa no doubt set to think up another scheme to off her father. With Ra's of course went Ubu, which meant that the only ones lingering behind were a few of the League ninjas, and they had very specific instructions - tell Oliver Queen that he was free to go, FOR NOW, and that he would be hearing from the Demon in the future. And then they themselves could go back home to their wives and families until the next time they were needed. Life in the League reserves was not that bad, really.

As for Oliver Queen, the rigors of the prior day's events - a whirlwind trip to Africa, a confrontation with a warlord, learning that his former mentor Talia was really Talia al Ghul, daughter of the demon, and one of the potential heirs to a centuries old cult of assassins, and perhaps most troubling the knowledge that he was being groomed to take over said cult, had left him in a very tired state, emotionally, mentally, and physically.

And so he slumbered in the small quarters that was prepared for him overlooking the main portion of the warehouse. Unaware that his team crept up on a mission to rescue him.

Or that Blanche had just told another raucous sex joke.
Felicity Smoak "Mark."

John's voice comes across just as Felicity says 'gone'. It's the thirty second countdown, and he's flat against the side of the building, gun down but in hand, finger within the guard, on the trigger. He's ready to use it.

The wanna-be Mrs Peel has her own hands full, but not with a gun. It's her own little laptop, and she's now logging into JCP&L to do the shutdown of the area. Not just theirs. Little ruse that she just thought of. Lights go out, and other buildings are dark, they'll think that it's a wider problem, and not just them. After all, it's a natural instinct- lose power and immediately one looks out the windows to see if anyone else is affected, or if there was some shut-off notice that was missed!

"Three... two... one..." Felicity begins the countdown again, and as she makes the final keystroke, and the entire block of warehouses are affected, she murmurs, "Let's go," to John's 'Mark'.

Now Felicity picks up a gun, and it most assuredly looks unwieldy in her small hands. It's heavy, and she's running back towards the door, just as John is opening it and setting his laser designator on one, then two.. then one more on the seated ninja's. Soft but distinct *pop* sounds rise; he's got a compensator for that muzzle blast...
Oliver Queen There were not the A team left behind in the warehouse. Nor even the B or C teams. They were the reserves, and so when the lights went out, their reaction was not to immediately jump into defensive positions. Or grab their weapons. Or cast suspicion on anything.

"Damn, I was really hoping to see how Sophia was going to talk them out of that one!" grumbles one, as the other two look around slowly to see if, in fact, it is just them that were impacted.

By the time any of them realize that John has slipped into the warehouse, they have all been shot.

There is no movement in the darkness, very little in the way of sounds at all. As if the entire warehouse were abandoned aside from those three guards huddled around the small tv.

Could the entire thing have been misdirection? Was it a trap?
Felicity Smoak No. Resistance.

Nothing?

John puts his hand up in that 'stay put' gesture, and he slides into the dark building, listening with an experienced ear. The moment he's in, Felicity is following. John's not concerned with the dead now, he's in position for the 'building sweep' very much like the military or police do in a questionable environment. She immediately goes to the table where the 'guards' are bleeding out, and she's doing the quick search for the phone. Where is it?

Felicity scowls and is looking concerned. Nervous, even as she shakes her head. "Not here." While she's pinpointed the area, there is still wiggle room as to where the phone could be within the //area//. It's definitely this building, however.

John's looking in side rooms, entering each with weapon before him and trained. Clear.

Clear.

Felicity isn't as good as John is in terms of clearing rooms, but there's no sense in following where he's been. For her part, the blonde is checking spots as well, cursing softly that she can't (or rather won't) turn the power back on.

"Why is it always dark," is murmured into coms.

John is coming out yet another room, and he's more than happy to answer, "Because bad guys sleep during the day. Give it a few more minutes. The sun will actually start coming through."
Oliver Queen The phone was on a table, off to the side, in the large warehouse. Next to a pile of clothes - neatly folded. The clothes Oliver had been wearing at the time of his abduction. His shoes next to the clothes, and his wallet sitting next to the phone. All of there, clean and easy. Out in the open. No signs of anyone else within the building. No talking. No shuffling. No breathing.

The only other person in the building aside from the three late ninjas was Oliver Queen, lying face down, motionless, on a small mattress in the second floor room.
Felicity Smoak John is clearing rooms, and as Felicity comes back around again, she's approaching from a different direction. A wince crosses her features quickly; there and gone as she pushes her glasses up and crouches to readjust her boot. "I don't know how.."

"Felicity," comes the warning, softly spoken word.

"Right, quiet," she repeats and stands up fully again. It's the rising again that she spots the incongruous table with laundry. Neat.. and she approaches it slowly, blue eyes darting around to make sure there's no one. But, there really isn't. Once there, she's looking at the clothing, the wallet.. the phone. Considering the last communication she'd had with Oliver, her words are lost as she breathes in, "Oh no.

"John, I found his phone and his wallet. And.. his clothes." Clothes? Clothes.

There's that glimmer of hope again, having found all that, and the hacker turned 'not spy' looks around again. The Verdant had...

There it is. The second floor and office offset. "I'm going upstairs."
Oliver Queen The phone was on, and perhaps surprisingly given the last state it was in and how long ago it was, fully charged. Most certainly that was by design. As had been the care of the folding of the clothes. One thing however she could notice in the dark, against the light shirt he had been wearing - blood stains.

Atop the stairs were a few rooms, only one of which had an open door. Within that rom was a small chamber - a table, a lamp, not currently lit. A bed, low to the ground. And on it a figure. Face down, legs spread., One arm hanging off the bed, dangling down, fingers nearly touching the floor. No motion, no movement. No alertness from the figure. Close cropped blonde hair. The tattoo on th eback matching the one she had seen often while in the Arrow Cave contemplating the salmon ladder.

And perhaps most alarmingly, there did not appear to be any motion at all - not even a rhytmic rising and falling of his torso.
Felicity Smoak Carefully folded, blood stained clothing.

Felicity is running up the stairs, and upon reaching the top, she is breathing a little heavier, as much from stress as from exertion. It's no time to make exercise resolutions, however, and this is the last place to check before admitting defeat. It's always easiest to check the room with the open door, and that's exactly what she does..

And she stops in the doorway, blue eyes staring at the form and figure of the man she's...

Felicity can't see if he's breathing; she can't see the rise and fall of his chest. He's lying there in the early morning sunrise so very still.

"Oliver!"

She couldn't stop herself if she tried as she runs to the bedside, reaching out for his arm to feel if there's warmth there, or if it's as she's so afraid it'll be- cool to the touch. "Oh, don't you dare.." Felicity tries to flip him over onto his back, checking for absolutely anything that might give her a clue.

"Not now.."
Oliver Queen Heavy as his muscular body may be, no doubt Felicity's adrenaline gives her an assist. Oliver's body is flipped over, and there is a low groan. His eyes flutter for a moment and he shifts, head lifting slightly.

"What..." he nearly croaks, voice harsh and seemingly dry. His eyes fight to open themselves, but before they can there is a name on his lips. Spoken with surprise. A question. "Felicity?"

Oliver tries to lift his head up, and it does come slowly, as his senses begin to slowly drift back in. A memory of where he was. The sensations of the room. And then his sense of who is there with him. "How...?"
Felicity Smoak It's amazing what adrenaline can do for a person. It's been reported that //normal// people have lifted cars in order to free loved ones in that heat of the moment. This is Felicity's feat, managing to get dead-weight up and over, flopping onto his back. He's warm to the touch, so if he died, she could still-

A groan.

Felicity stands straight, cocking her head as if she might have mistaken it. Body's exhale as the last pockets of air escape the lungs; it's a trick of the ear. A sad sound that almost always gives that bit of hope to those left behind.

"Oliver.."

She'd thought him gone. Dead.. but then there's more. The dead don't actually speak.. right?

Pushing up on her glasses so they don't fall off, she's right up next to the bedside again, near his head and reaching out to touch his face... gently. "Oh, thank god you are alive," the words come rushing out of her mouth in a torrent. "I thought you were.. were.." and even now, she can't bring herself to actually say the word. "It's me," is added as that after thought.

As Oliver tries to lift his head, Felicity is looking back at the door a little nervously. She's not sure how much time they have there. Exfil isn't her forte, other than, well, covering for it from afar.

Still, she'd kill anyone who comes near right now. She's got a gun!

She pauses before her hand goes to brush back the wisps of short hair on the top of his head, away from his face, even though there isn't really anything there. It's meant to be a more calming gesture.

"I'm guessing Ra's al Ghul let me find you." She knows who'd taken him; she'd run the voice analytics, many times, and it wasn't easy to trace, much less track. "Your phone was turned on," having obviously been retrieved from the sewer grate.
Oliver Queen There is a lot of confusion on the face of Oliver Queen. At first, it is that he is where he is. He looks around, as if to restablish himself. And then it is to Felicity, despite having clearly seen and heard her. His eyes struggle to focus in the dark. "Felicity?"

He listens to her explanation. He closes his eyes, feeling the touch of her fingers on his face. And then he reaches up, taking her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers, squeezing for a moment. As if confirming for himself the reality of her physical presence.

"Felicity." he says, with confidence this time. "I thought I'd never see you again." There is more to that statement than the words themselves. It was not the way he would speak of the IT girl. Or his Arrowcave hacker. Or the words spoken just to the person who happened to rescue him. There was a gravitas to those words, an importance. This was not a casual comment - this was a thought, that had been residen and present in his mind. He had been thinking of her, while he was enduring captivity.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs softly, a slight shake of his head.
Felicity Smoak Her own actions aren't the sort from an IT girl, or an 'employee', as there have been times that she's been referred to as such.. or as a 'friend'. There's a decided gentleness to the touch, and when he reaches to squeeze her fingers, she's nodding again, her other hand rising to wipe at her nose briefly. "It's me." She's pretty sure he'd recognize her anywhere, just for the fact that she's almost never quiet.

His words come as a relief to her; he's coming back from wherever that unconscious, or sleepy, or drugged stupor he'd been in. The import of them, however, she couldn't begin to truly fathom. He'd gone away to Center City, bought the ticket for the Lingerie show.. and then she thought she'd lost him.

"I have to pay my rent somehow," she quips softly, though looking at him, there's that something that is weighing on him, pushing the words forward and into a completely different realm that she's.. beginning to be afraid of. Her heart.

"Sorry?" Felicity presses her lips together and shakes her head, actually not able to say anything right at that moment. Her eyes are welling up, and with other swipe of her hand, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"Can you move? Get up? John's here. We can get you to the hospital.. or.. or.." Somewhere. Anywhere that isn't here.
Oliver Queen It takes another moment, hanging over them, before Oliver seems to gain a real sense of where he is. What is going on. He looks up at Felicity, and then around the room. He grunts softly as he tries to sit up more. "There are assassins here," he says, as he start to become more tactical. The Arrow side of him coming back out. He slides along the bed. "Please tell me you're not here alone."

He starts to try to get up, and is woozy, wobbling for a moment, placing a hand on Felicity's shoulder to steady himself.

He turns his gaze back to her. The conversation takes a quick step back. "I shouldn't have gone to Central City. I don't know I did, I just..." he shakes his head. "I knew it was a mistake as soon as I got there. I wanted to come right home. I left, and then..." He had changed his flight. He was flying home that morning. But then... "The Demon."
Felicity Smoak Felicity watches as brain fog dissipates a little more from those keen blue eyes of his, hand hand still with his. It's not until he struggles to sit up a little more that she lets go, giving him a little room but still hovering. "Whoa.. whoa.. yes. Three. I put the cameras on a loop, then shut down the power in the quadrant. John took care of them." Unless there are more than three. It's now that she can't help herself, "Your clothes are downstairs."

As he tries to rise, Felicity isn't going to depart to get them for him. But, it's really, really hard not to look at that toned body, though once again, it has more insult to it than last time she got to look.

So close and so far.

Felicity smiles tightly, and up at him, shaking her head. "It's okay. I understand." But does she really? At least she didn't use the word 'fine'. "We should.." probably get his clothes.

"Do you really think he would have let me come here alone? I think you'd have fired him on the spot. Or, he'd have fired himself. He's downstairs."
Oliver Queen Oliver listens to her words. It seems like he is taking them in, and absorbing them. But he seems not to have much in the way of panic. No sense of urgency. "Good. John's a good friend." His thoughts seem to be jumbled, responding to things out of order. But he is slowly coming out of it.

"I had to come back," he says. From where? Who knows. "I couldn't let it end there." Where, again?

He reaches up with a hand and brushes it against Felicity's cheek. "I've made such a mess of things, Felicity, blind when I should have seen, and just... " He shakes his head slowly.

"I know you feel differently now, and I can't blame you. I just want to say I'm sorry, not just to you, but to me, for not realizing what I had in front of me soon enough for it to matter."

His eyes are on Felicity, and his voice is soft. "I couldn't let them kill me without having a chance to tell you that."
Felicity Smoak 'Couldn't let it end there'?

Felicity swallows hard, pushing down her fear for him, for his life again. How close had he come? She's looking up at him, and she shakes her head, her gaze not leaving his. "No," she begins. "You're safe now."

The touch against her cheek, however, has her closing her eyes. It's a of taking in the touch completely, without her poor vision getting in the way. She's quiet for a heartbeat before her eyes open, and her cheek tightens as she fights to keep her composure.

Her next words come out in a hoarse whisper, "You don't know anything, Oliver." She shakes her head and tries to smile, but there is finally that errant tear that is wiped away brusquely.

"Tell me that you're back.. and they're not going to take you away again." Because it sounds like he's on borrowed time. "I'll bring you home. And I'll sneak you upstairs so your mother doesn't see you." Moira is probably at work now, anyway. Or will be by the time they get back. "Okay?"
Oliver Queen A soft sigh from Oliver. His fingertips drift down Felicity's cheek. "I'm free from him, I think. If you're here, then it means..." He shakes his head slowly.

He feels that tear, against his finger. He looks at her. He thinks. He processes. He nods.

"I'm back, Felicity. Or I will be, once you get me home." He moves along, sliding on the bed, towards her. It's on the path to getting up, of course.

He takes a deep breath and leans forward, resting his forehead against hers. "Thank you," he murmurs.
Felicity Smoak "I'm here." Whatever that means.

"We'll get you home." Felicity sounds certain of that. She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly, her secret discovered by his understanding of that traitorous tear. There's that pause again, and she can feel hear heart pounding in her ears. He's so close, and she can feel his warmth, the smell of him that is mixed with dirt, the tang of iron, and sweat. "There really wasn't any thought otherwise." She'd do it again, and again.. and again.

The urge to kiss him is so great; but in his state, he's vulnerable. He's hurt, probably drugged, and once he gets some sleep, he should be better. Felicity lets out a shuddering, soft breath before she nods, and is ready to help him up at his word.
Oliver Queen "I'm glad," Oliver says softly. "I came back for you."

He leans forward a bit, groaning quietly as he stretches his back out a bit. Letting his muscles untighten. He listens to Felicity speak, and he brushes that tear away. He sighs, for a moment.

"Thinking of you is what gave me the strength to survive," he finally says, breathing out slowly. He leans his head against hers, but quite close the distance between the two faces. But more so. Maybe he learned his lesson from last time he foolishly went in for a kiss. For the moment, he is just hanging in her breath.
Felicity Smoak That sounds so amazingly sweet and romantic, and Felicity can't help but push a smile through. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Softly, in the back of her mind, she's praying that somehow, some way, through some miracle, he'll remember this after he wakes up in his own bed. "Other than 'You're hired'." If she lets her heart believe this, if she's wrong, it'll be harder, much harder to pick up the pieces.

"Please.." she doesn't want him to say any more, but does. She wants to hear it, wants to believe it. "I thought ... I couldn't find you. You were gone." And the fear had kept her up, kept her working. "I need to lie low with the NSA for a little bit," the words hold a slightly airy, hoarse pitch to them, as if the words mean something completely different. Something she //wants// to say.

She leans in a little, her eyes closing in the action, "I'll use the Russians' instead," why is she doing this? Because she's wanted to since she'd met him. Always wanted to be wanted... and not as 'IT' or 'it's just Felicity' or 'Oh, this is Felicity'. Silly dreams.

But now?
Oliver Queen "I should say nice things more often." Oliver says softly. He sighs quietly, and listens to her ramble. His mouth twists into a smile as she details her schemes. Their impact. The excitement in her voice as she speaks of the NSA.

"Felicity," he says, pausing just long to be sure he has her attention. "Stop talking."

And then, unless he is dodged again, Oliver leans his head forward to try to kiss her.
Felicity Smoak It's how Oliver should know that everything will be okay. Felicity is talking. A lot. It's when she has nothing to say that all should be worried, because she's either very, very sad, or very, very concerned.

Or, because she's told to.

She smiles in the gentle command, and she nods her head against his, the words that should be so very familiar to him by now, "I'll stop talking now," taking on a completely new meaning.

He's not dodged again. Instead, she very so much wants it, and she meets him that halfway, almost melting into him in the embrace. It's heady, it's enough to have her heart pounding again as all those feelings, the fears rush through, only to be cast away again in the moment. She can try and suss it all out later, in the dark of her apartment when all is silent and she is alone. But now?
Oliver Queen There is a brief smile on his face as Felicity agrees to stop talking. And that's when he leans in for the kiss.

It is soft, and tender. The brush of Oliver's lips to hers, warm. His hand against her cheek, a soft caress. His lips ever so slowly starting to part, his breath coming out against hers.

"Felicity, did you -- " John Diggle, master of timing, arrives in the room.
Felicity Smoak The kiss. It's not one of those fireworks going off in her ears, sweep her off her feet and fly to Paris sorts. It's.. more a 'this is how I feel and it's warm and is ready to wrap you into it' sort. She's not looking for fireworks and passion... not right now, anyway. She'll expect the boardwalk walks and picnics in the park later. Or, a thoughtful present of memory chips is always good, too.

Her hand reaches up to touch the scruff on his cheek, the touch gentle.

'Felicity, did you --'

Why does she feel like a teenager that just got caught by dad? She draws away, and before turning around, gathers herself together. She clears her throat, and finally, she turns to face her partner in rescue. "Yes.. I.. I found him. His clothes are downstairs. So.. I should probably go down and get those now." She'll leave John with Oliver, and when his belongings are returned upstairs, they're ready to head back to the mansion and make sure Oliver is tucked safely in bed before heading back down into the cave.

There are lots of question she wants answered, and there is a lot of data to go through.

And there's a comfortable cot with her pillow on it.