Sounds like Onomatopoeia

November 17, 2014:

Roy and Kate plus… Ollie? No, that doesn't rhyme.

New York City

The Docks

Characters

NPCs: Onomatopoeia

Mentions:

Mood Music: ''Five Years'' by Blake Neely


Fade In…

The evening was still young, if brisk and chill. Light sprinkles of snow kissed the asphalt before succumbing into tiny little droplets, which started to melt, before freezing, leaving little tinklets of ice in its wake.

With more shipments coming in, a much more watchful eye on the manifests turned up an anomaly… yes, one of the large transport ships had stopped on its way to a suspect docking station, and come away with conflicting records of its cargo.

Now hoping to catch them red-handed, Roy Harper was looming on an overhang, regarding the ship moving its cargo with binoculars, trying to get a better look. "Hey, Bishop, you holding up there? Not cold or anything in that getup?" he asks, being all bundled nicely in the heat-conserving Checkmate armoured bodysuit, complete with a bulletproof jacket-vest and a non-regulation trucker hat.


"Just fine, thanks." Kate has scoped out a rooftop of her own, crouched in the shelter provided from the wind by an air conditioning unit. Her bow is ready, but she has her hands tucked under her arms, the better to keep feeling in her bare fingertips. "For the record, I actually have plans for later," she adds over the comm. "So, you know. If we could not get shot, that would be great for keeping my schedule clear."


Puffs of smoke escape a pair of pinkish lips as the heat escapes his body. It's cold, too cold, but that's never stopped crime, and it's not going to stop the man in the hood either.

It had been some time since he last checked in on his old protege, and Roy was due for another visit from the old man. From his vantage on the shipping container, he could make out the twinkle of roy's binoculars as they caught one of the lights. It was the kind of thing that you'd only spot if you already had the target in sight.

He wore his winter outfit, better insulated with some thermal chemicals running throughout to keep him warm. Special gloves kept his fingertips as warm as ever. He'd tried living on less, but just because he had more now, didn't mean he wouldn't use it.

Gently rolling from his crouching position, he jumped down to the asphalt, and made his way through the crates, keeping to the shadows, and moving closer to Roy. "What's he up to?" he whispered to himself.

He knew that the elbow-dropper was present as well, but he wasn't too concerned. She was probably a good kid, though he did wonder why she was spending so much time with Roy? Bad boys, he thought, women always like the bad boys. He knew that first hand.


"I'll try not to keep you from your appointment with truffle fries," Roy rejoins, as he scans the ship. "I don't recognise anyone, but they're unloading something that definitely doesn't look like boxes of books…"

Roy hesitates for a moment, looking back at Kate as if to assess whether she was going to try and grab those binoculars from him or fume or dive right down there.

And in that moment, near Ollie, something lands on the rooftop, a dark shadowy figure that practically merged into the darkness. It was alive, that much could be told from the muffled chilled steam that emitted around his head, but one couldn't see the eyes. Only dark white-grey circles that resembled targeting circles.

"Tup-tup," the masked figure says softly, as guns were drawn. And then…

"Click."


"Train, actually. I promised Vorpal I'd help him get a present for Gar," Kate admits, leaning forward and putting an arrow to the string and leaning over to get a better look at whatever it is Roy's looking at. "I'm seriously going to have to get someone to tell Dad to take a better look at his contracts," she mutters, taking a deep breath. "You need something from these guys, or are we being sensible and handing them over to the authorities?"


Instinctively, Oliver crouches, grabs an arrow, and nocks his bow in the direction of the sound. He's not sure if he's been seen yet, but why take the chance?

At first, he thought it might be Bullseye, the assassin who frequents Hell's Kitchen, but the sound effects gave him away as Onomatopeia. Great, him again. This could be difficult. Once, he put six arrows in Onomatopeia. One through his right foot, another through the palm of his right hand, he put one between the first and middle knuckles on the right hand, and three in his shoulders. It didn't even slow him down.

Ollie makes his own sound effect, saying "sigh" as he tries to put an arrow through the target and rolls to the side, moving into the view of Arsenal and Hawkeye. He's not retreating, he's just trying to put some space between him and Onomatopeia. Hopefully he hasn't messed up whatever Roy was planning he thinks to himself as he turns around to put another arrow into the man in black.


"We just need to catch them in the act… we've got visual evidence, and once we confiscate the cargo, we should be good to go. Nice eye on catching the difference in manifests, by the way."

The binoculars were tucked away, and Roy looks at Kate. "You -really- want to be sensible…?" he grins, a crooked half-grin crossing his lips before –motion - from the corner of his eyes draws his gaze.

There was a flash of green followed by a curse. "Arrow…!"

Ok, Arrow might not be actually a curse, but the way it was said… And the other figure, Roy didn't know himself, but judging from the way Ollie reacted, it was someone - he - was quite acquainted with.

Gunfire ring out, causing – everyone - to react. The people in the dock scattered, Roy was already making his way towards Ollie…

And the air carried the words "Bang bang" in its wake, followed by "Ratattatatatatataa" And then the arrow strikes home, and a "SPLURT!" from the man.

There was silence, and then the sound of a grenade pin being pulled…

"Skkkkkt." Followed by the sound of something being tossed in the air, in Ollie's direction. And in its wake…

"BOOM."


"I don't want to get on S.H.I.E.L.D.-" Kate cuts herself off in surprise at the sound and motion from the other direction, turning and firing off the taser arrow already nocked in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. Nobody makes sound effects for fun. And if they do, they probably deserve a little shock anyhow. "I've got left!" she calls back to Roy, already running along the roofline in search of a better vantage point on the attacker.


Oliver isn't a metahuman, he has no powers, but the way he moved, and dodged that gunfire, you'd be forgiven if you thought he had some kind of super agility, precognition, or something. It's even more impressive when you consider his age. He must have been something pretty special when he was in his prime.

He evades, he dodges, he moves for cover, finding little on the docks, but still he tries, all while firing back. The grenade actually helps. When it explodes, it creates a wonderful ball of fire that can be seen from far and wide. It also has the effect of troubling anyone's eyes who gazed upon it. Ollie knew better.

He used it as a cover, moving into the alley between two buildings that were adjacent to the docks. He immediately went for the fire escape, trying to get up to a rooftop. Onomatopoeia was not to be trifled with.

Just as he reaches the top, he sees Hawkeye moving to the left, and presumably Arsenal going right. To Hawkeye, he says, "you're looking good Audrey," trying out a new nickname, since she looks like Hepburn to him, and maybe mend a fence after calling her an eblow dropper. To Arsenal, who obviously was trying to achieve something tonight, he says, "Sorry about the mess" and turns to fire another arrow at Onomatopeia, this time it's a cold arrow.


Anyone who hadn't already been galvanised into dumping and running already by the sound of gunfire was – gone - when the grenade exploded.

And when Ollie was climbing his way up, Roy shifts his focus onto Onomatopoeia, trying to find him in the darkness. "Going right up the middle, you go right," he calls out to Ollie. "And thanks for bringing company! Hawkeye, you see him?" he calls out, not being sure if she had already tracked him.

Onomatopoeia, at least if Kate had been keeping tab on the left side, was easy enough to find, having holed up, a partly rolled up mask exposing teeth clenching a bared knife as the figure works on the arrow embedded in a shoulder.

"SNAP."

A gun is picked up then, and then, as he re-arms the pistol..

"SLIIIIDE. CLICK."

… and wait, was that Kate's footsteps running…?

"thump thumpTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP.."


"Oh, you again?" Kate grimaces as Oliver runs past, keeping her momentum going as she drops into a roll. "Keep talking, buddy, helps me aim!" This time it's a putty arrow, aimed for the gun that's so intent on putting holes into her. She has plans, people! Acrobatics or not, her form is perfect, quite possibly to make a point to a certain green-clad archer. Or possibly because that's just the way she is.


Oliver takes his cue from Arsenal. A battlefield is no place to argue, and he goes right. He caught the grimace on Kate's face when he went by her. Definitely going to have to mend some bridges there. Maybe he'll give her a box of trick arrows for Christmas. But enough of that kind of thinking, there was a bad guy to take down.

He reaches another rooftop, landing with a roll and comes to a crouch in front of the ledge. He nocks another arrow, this time aiming for the gun. If his arrows don't have much effect on the guy, at least he can stop him from hurting anyone.


The gun aimed with one arm at Hawkeye was first filled with putty (SPLLLKKKKT) and then knocked loose (KLANGGGG!).

And after Onomatopoeia's gun is knocked away, Roy has closed distance, approaching slowly with loaded crossbow. "Ok, pal, whoever you are…"

Clutching one bleeding shoulder with his now partly puttified hand, Onomatopoeia's bare lips curl up in derision.

"TICK… TICK… TICK…"


"That is both obnoxious and stupid," Kate mutters, reaching back into her quiver and letting her fingers brush over the shafts for the tell-tale markings that warn of each arrow's purpose. She doesn't use as many trick arrows as some others, but Clint has a habit of slipping some into her quiver when she isn't paying attention, so she makes a habit of keeping track of what's in there. This time, the arrow she pulls out has a point, but there's something slick and dark over it - sedative. "Sing a lullaby next."


With Roy getting down there to confront Onomatoepeia head on, and Hawkeye having him covered, Ollie decides to lend a hand. He tucks the arrow he had back into his quiver and heads for the stairwell, but before he goes back down to ground level, he grabs a handful of arrows and sets them on the ledge next to Hawkeye, "just in case you need them, Audrey, and glad to see you're keeping that elbow up."

Before she react violently to him, he's leaping down towards the alley, jumping from stairwell to stairwell, making his way down. When he reaches the ground, he'll run up towards Roy and Onomatopoeia. "His name's Onomatopoeia, and watch out, this one can be crafty."


Before she can react violently to him, he's leaping down towards the alley, jumping from stairwell to stairwell, making his way down. When he reaches the ground, he'll run up towards Roy and Onomatopoeia. "His name's Onomatopoeia, and watch out, this one can be crafty."


"Onomatopoeia, eh?" Roy notes, as he keeps his gun on the dark figure. "So's what Onomatopoeia supposed to be? He just keeps repeating sounds… like that."

"TICK. TICK. TICK."

"Like that. Why's he ticking like a bomb?"


"That is a stupid name, and Roy, if he's ticking like a bomb, then put him down and get out of there," Kate calls down to the other archer, firing the sleeper arrow at the villain. Technically, putting him to sleep and then letting a bomb go off around him isn't killing him, right? "Both of you!" she adds. She doesn't really want to blow up Green Arrow.


Oliver's eyes go wide at the thought of a bomb going off. But where is it? Could Onomatopoeia survive it? Probably. He's survived a lot and nothing seems to faze him. At Kate's urging, he dives right, putting some distance between himself, Onomatopoeia, and any bomb that might be nearby. Hawkeye might not have noticed the arrows he left her, but at least she doesn't /really/ want to blow him up, so that's progress. He'd explain more about the guy to Roy, but right now, time is of the essence.


"…" It'd finally sunk in, as Roy fires off an expletive. The sleeping arrow goes off, as he – dashes -.

That Onomatopoeia falls silent… well the curious thing was that there was no ticking sound in the vicinity. None. So why had he…

Ollie was right, at least. It was nearby, as the Bishop Press warehouse door blows out in an impressive display of fire and smoke, a flash of white tingling the flames as it burns merrily.


"Hey!" Kate protests the explosion indignantly, cursing under her breath as she picks up the arrows Ollie left and dashes back toward the villain in the wake of her arrow. As she runs, she tries to get a look at the arrows - no sense in shooting something if she doesn't know what it's going to do.


"The Bishop Press warehouse?" Ollie intones, "great, just great, it's not like there's any kindling in there." Shaking his head, he draws that cold arrow he had thought about using on Onomatopoeia, but changed his mind about. Now he fires it into the blaze, cooling some of it off in a manner similar to Mister Freeze or Captain Cold's weapons. As he looks to the sky, he wishes he had seed arrows. That's going to go on his list. Maybe Felicity can help him with that.


With fire extinguisher arrows of his own, Roy joins in trying to put out the fire. Funny how often he needed – those - whenever Ollie was around. Then again, Roy needed them himself as well.

Slowly, the fire dies down, followed by the sound of sirens.

Glancing up, Roy curses. "Ok, Arrow. Where did you park? We're following you and… anyone seen our culprit?"

Of Onomatopoeia there was nothing but a blood trail dragging along th ground.


The Green Arrow's arrows goes into the 'do not use unless in case of dire emergency' pocket of the quiver, and Kate skids to a stop where the villain was standing before, fuming all on her own. "I've got a blood trail here," she answers Roy over the comm, irritation coming through loud and clear. "Not sure how far it's going to go, but it's worth taking a look at, anyhow."


Ollie's not on the same frequency as Kate and Roy, so he's only getting half the conversation, but it's enough. He works with his former apprentice, using their arrows to try and fight the fire. After the cold arrow, he fires an arrow that bursts out in fire retardant foam. It's not enough to cover the whole building, but fighting a fire is a process, not a switch. It takes time and effort to beat the flames back.

When the fire is out and the sirens can be heard, he turns to Roy, answering his question about where he parked with, "West Cordova and Thurlow, third level, stall 17." He'll even toss the keys to Roy, and then asks, "where's your girlfriend," assuming that Roy and Kate are an item. That, or he just wants to mess with Roy.


"She's a friend, and… hold on. Get on this frequency." It's not like Roy was going to use it all the time, anyway. And they had business to take care of first, at least until – stuff - had to be done.

With the keys he's caught from Ollie, Roy considers. "We follow Hawkeye. Got to make sure our little Hawkette doesn't get herself zapped by Onowhatssit."

The blood trail trickles off, heading between warehouses, and down the dock, unsteadily, wobbling from side to side. Damn the sleep gas, it – really - did seem to have done a number on him. She should be able to catch up quickly… if he didn't have a motorcycle. And if he did…

"vroooooommm…"

He did.


"Stop calling me that," Kate mutters at the Hawkette, jogging along behind the blood trail. She slows down at each corner, though, trying to follow the sweeping patterns Clint's shown her before in the interest of not getting jumped from a corner. "He's got a bike," she warns, picking up speed as the hears the rumble of an engine. "Headed…" Quickly, she draws another taser arrow from her quiver, nocking it and searching for the source of the sound. Time to see how many electrical components are in that bike.


Oliver adjusts the frequency of his communication device as he follows the trail of blood with Roy, chatting as if this were perfectly normal. "A friend - what's the problem? She's beautiful with that Audrey Hepburn look, she's an archer, a hero, and she's about your age. What's the hold up?"

The last bit, about the hold up, comes across on channel, everything from the word 'archer'. Oh Ollie, how he slips back into the mentor role even after having thrown Arsenal out on his red behind. "Fiery too. That's always a plus." He does know he's on channel, doesn't he?


"Complicated relationships," Roy fires back. Which, as Ollie is well aware, is something – he - used himself to describe the whole 'dating scene'. "And… I think she's found him…

"Where're you, Hawkeye?" Roy calls out, switching to professional mode than needling mode, focusing instead on what was going on – now -.

Whether Kate could answer or not depended a – lot - on how she handled the next few - the taser arrow strikes home, the already wobbly sleepy-gassed Onomatopoeia loses control of the cycle, and it sparks, as he comes flying off it, the cycle skidding along the ground leaving sparks in its wake… towards the girl.


"Man, and what girl doesn't want to be tied to a man, right?" Kate snarks back over the channel, though the commentary is cut off sharply by a surprised yelp as the motorcycle comes flying toward her. At least she's a few steps ahead of the action movie stereotype, and instead of trying to run away from the bike, she throws herself into a roll off to the side, to the accompaniment of a great deal of scraping and grunting sounds over the communicator. "Half a block north, one block west, and skidding," she manages to say as she comes to a stop.


"Gotcha" Ollie replied, knowing full well how complicated relationships can become in this industry, but he does add, "life can be pretty short, especially in this industry, so sometimes complicated can be good. Think about it," he urges as he moves towards the source of the wreckage.

When he arrives, he gives a quick look to Hawkeye, "are you all right?" With a nod, a gesture, or a snarky comment, he'll be off towards Onomatopeia, checking to see if he's alive, and if so, to try and cuff him.


"Hang on," Roy replies, as he steps on it, putting Ollie's car through its paces. What did he care about jackrabbit starts or burning anything in someone else's car, especially Oliver Jonas Queen's? Or if one wanted be – really - snarky, OJ Queen.

Stepping out of the car, Roy has to whistle at the wreckage. "Man, you'd probably make a fabulous bloodhound. He alive?"

He was, indeed, but unconscious. Just stick there, hang around, wait…

The cycle crackled, and fwumped.

… … …

Nope, not a sound. He was definitely out.


"Gonna be feeling it in the morning," Kate grumbles from the pavement, slowly pushing herself up as Ollie goes over to take care of the handcuffing part of the process. Before she even stands, though, she's looking lovingly over her bow, making sure there's no serious damage to the weapon. Once that's been determined, she carefully pushes herself up again, though she's favouring her right leg a bit as she does. "Is he still alive?" she calls over.


After a quick check, Oliver abruptly drags Onomatopoeia to a lamp post, where he handcuffs him for now. He could use some medical care, but Oliver's not about to start now, not while Hawkeye might actually benefit from some. He has his priorities.

He returns to check on her, seeing her favour her right leg. In a soft and kind voice, "mind if I check you out?" He's trained as a field medic and already has a pouch out with some medical tools, bandages, ointments, and the like. Looking over to Roy, he also asks, "you all right, Arsenal?" It still sounds weird to him, using that name. Too long, too many syllables, or maybe he's just not a fan of the football club.


He had to hand it to Kate, she might well be an aristocrat, but she was a hell of a bulldog too.

Already closing in to check on Kate, Roy makes room for Ollie when he has the equipment. Taking a deep long breath, Roy grimaces. "Yeah, Arrow. Mostly."

There was a pregnant pause, followed by a grimace. "So, you still blowing up corporations' corrupt factories?"


"I'm good," Kate says firmly to Oliver, testing her weight on the knee. "Just twisted it a little. It'll walk off." She looks between him and Roy for a moment, taking a step back to start on the walking off a short distance away. Roy's asked the pertinent question, though, and she looks interested in the answer.


"No matter what the courts say, corporations aren't people Arsenal," again, it sounds awkward on his lips, "they can't be corrupt. They can't be just. They're just organisations. It's the people who run them that are good or bad. And yeah, I've blown up some that were run by assholes." He says it so matter of fact, as if there was no debate, no concern. In essence, he's saying he's blown stuff up, but only when it was owned by bad people.

He regards Kate carefully, watching that ankle. He's no doctor, but he's seen enough injuries to know when something's serious, and when it can be walked off. For now, he agrees with Kate, but he's going to keep an eye on that ankle of hers. Turning to Roy, he asks, "mostly? What hurts?" He didn't see anything obvious that needed treatment, so he asks.


"Yeah, well, it's making – my - job harder when I can't quite sort out the difference between when you're doing it and when – Shadowspire - is doing it," Arsenal replies, reaching out to poke Ollie in the chest. "And nothing hurts. Other than that my ass's still sore from the time you tossed me out of the mansion."

Pause.

"No, Hawkeye, Arrow's not Michael Jackson."


Kate is still walking carefully, but as she does, some of the limp is working out. Some of it. Or else she's compensating for it better. "It's not like you work for the rainbows and kitten brigade, Arsenal," she points out, helpfully sticking her nose into the argument.


Ollie's chest is surprisingly firm against Roy's pointed finger. Has he been working out? He was always buff, but he seems like he's gone even farther. He shows no remorse for throwing Arsenal out. Because they're in mixed company, he spares Roy a lecture, or an embarrassment.

"You know why I did it, and from where I'm standing, it looks like it worked." He'd smile at Hawkeye's comment, but right now his eyes, those stone cold eyes, wrapped in a mask, and covered by a hood, pierce into Roy's very soul, starring him down even as poor Onomatopoeia lays nearby, in pain, and cuffed to a lamp post.


Taking a deep breath, Roy looks back at Kate, before grimacing. "And – after? It's been six years, Arrow."

Holding his hands up, Roy shakes his head, looking back at Kate. "We're doing our – best. Sometimes, that means we have to make hard decisions…"

Taking a deep breath, Roy runs his hand through his hair. "I'm still supposed to take you in to have a little talk. Although I've got competition, isn't that right, Hawkeye?"


"Technically, yeah. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to have a talk with you," Kate admits, giving Ollie a pointed look. "On the other hand, I'm also not technically working for them, so…" She shrugs a bit, scrubbing a hand over her face. "Could you maybe stop shooting people for white collar crime? You know, just bring it down a notch?"


"Arsenal," boy, he'd really prefer to call him Roy right now, but this is a public place, and there is a villain, unconscious, but a villain not that far from them. "You know what happened to me," referring to his time on the island. "I endured it, and emerged stronger because of it. Just as I'm sure the past six years have been for the better."

"Hard choices," he repeats before glancing at Kate as she chips in. "I make them every day, and I don't lose sleep over it." He pauses, considering for a moment. Then a smile emerges from his lips. "All right, Audrey, if you want, I'll tone it down a bit. But I still want to speak to your boss, on my terms."

S.H.I.E.L.D. may want to speak to him, but when it happens, it'll be at a time and place of Ollie's choosing. He's like that. Stubborn as they come. Maybe that's why he like this new Hawkeye. She reminds him of someone…


"S.H.I.E.L.D. might want to talk to you. Checkmate would too, -especially- the Wall. Or is it Stormwatch? I can never keep track of which organization Wall's speaking officially for, she's everywhere. Blasted reorganization." Roy grimaces. "Though they're saying what happened with the Tower happened with some substitute. Which means we're going to have to do our own investigation."

Taking a deep breath, Roy considers what Ollie says, before shrugging. "It had its pluses, it had its minuses." Pause. "By the way, congratulations. You're a grandpa."


"Yeah, I don't have a boss," Kate points out with a faint smirk. "And it's Kate. Or Hawkeye. Either one works." She's about to continue, when Roy drops the big bomb. Instead, she goes silent, quirking a brow at the other young archer. Yeah, she's going to let them work this one out on their own.


Ollie takes it all in, what Roy's saying. He's willing to let him back in, if he wants it. Roy seems to have cleaned himself up. The Wall is definitely a player, one he's heard of, but never had the pleasure of meeting in person. From what he's heard, he's fortunate. But if she wants to see him, he's going to have to deal with it, sooner or later.

But all of that takes a backseat when he hears Roy's final words. At first, a single flaxen brow raises. Then the edges of his lips curl upwards, until his grim face has broken into a smile, "that's wonderful, what's…" and before he can ask a million questions, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cigar, which he lights.

He coughs a bit, not having smoked in some time. Nasty habit, but one he reserves for special occasions, like this, even if it's belated. Then he pulls out two credit card shaped pieces of paper, and tosses one to each of Hawkeye and Arsenal. "Consider yourselves welcome, anytime." On them, there's a code and directions, presumably to the Arrowcave, the new one. The last one… had an accident. And yes, he knows he's just given two people access to his base who have orders to bring him in, but he's an excellent judge of character, or was.

Little does he know that Onomatopeia, in the confusion of their conversation, has quietly woken up, slipped his bonds, and disappeared. When Ollie realises it, he swears, then turns to Kate, "I think Audrey sounds better, but it's a pleasure to meet you." He'll even bow to kiss her gloved hand, like in one of those old movies.


Kate catches the card, blinking at it for a moment before she looks back to Ollie and Roy, slowly putting pieces together. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," she suddenly says, limping forward quickly to try to press the card back into Oliver's hand. "Not me. Totally not me. Way, so, totally not me. I have no kids. Seriously? What kind of terrible parents do you think we'd be, out trying to get both of us killed with some random babysitter watching - No, you can keep this, thanks."


Kate catches the card, blinking at it for a moment before she looks back to Ollie and Roy, slowly putting pieces together. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," she suddenly says, limping forward quickly to try to press the card back into Oliver's hand. "Not me. Totally not me. Way, so, totally not me. I have no kids. Seriously? What kind of terrible parents do you think we'd be, out trying to get both of us killed with some random babysitter watching - No, you can keep this, thanks."


Oliver Queen smiles broadly, and lets out a hearty chuckle. He didn't actually think that Kate and Roy were an item. He's too good a read of people, body language, for that. But it amused him to make the suggestion. Roy seems to be keeping quiet while Kate back peddles right over him. He'll probably have skid marks now.

He's not too upset at Onomatopeia escaping. The guy's escaped from the authorities too, so unless someone killed him, he was always like to get away in the end. "Kate," he says in a whisper, "I am certain that when the time comes, you will make a wonderful parent, and even better mother. And I know you can do much better than Arsenal here."

The way he delivers it, it's as if he's reading a bedtime story, so soft, so sweet, and yet, he's inserting his own sense of humour into the mix. Before she can give him back the card, he gently pushes it away, closing her hand around it. "Please, keep it. I don't invite people back to the Arrowcave every day, and it's even rarer that I'll let someone come and go as they please."

Arsenal still has his keys. So when Oliver pulls out an arrow and fires a self-retracting grappling hook, it may come as something of a surprise. With the cord already beginning to retract, hoisting him up towards the rooftop, he says, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a villain to catch and the night is young!"

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