Cutscene - Aftermath

April 24, 2016:

Oliver carries Melody to safety while reliving his past.

New York City streets

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Melody Kenway

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

“Do you know what this island is called, Mr. Queen? The direct translation is purgatory, but the closest actual name would be Prison of Death. Isn’t that a lovely name? A place where you are trapped for eternity, not allowed to die, but constantly dying?”

Oliver had accepted that it was time to die, that there was no real escape from this situation. The injuries were not severe but enough to keep him from being able to move and the ticking time bomb in the adjacent room was certainly enough to end him and most of the city block.

He found himself looking at Melody, wondering for the second time that day if instead of volunteering to help her move it might not have been a better choice to hire a company to do it. But then again, innocents would be dead; and he was definitely not an innocent. So he was left with one choice in the matter, to smile. If Oliver Queen was going to hell, he fully intended to meet the Devil with a grin on his face.

“Mr. Queen, you see death would be a release for you. A way for you to be free of this place and we simply can’t have that. No, you do not get to die. Not until we get what we want from you…”

Oliver’s eyes jerked open, the shock of the sudden world coming back to him drawing the oxygen into deprived lungs in a ragged gasp. The heavy, leaden weight lying upon his legs making it difficult to move, at least until he was able to reach to roll Melody off of them. He ached in places that had not felt pain in some time, muscles and bruised bones screaming in agony.

The temptation to give way to the pain and slip back into the tortured sleep was appealing, but the threat of what awaited in the dreams was enough to push Oliver up to his elbows, far enough for the world to spin. Quickly he relented and lay back down until the world returned to normal causing him to drift between reality and memory.

The sword could not go any further, it was at the hilt and despite the shocking pain, Oliver could not help but look at it in almost awe. How was it that a sword was able to go that far into his chest and he still was alive to look at it? Why wasn’t he dead? He had been hanging there with this sword in his chest for hours after all…

“Wondering how you’re still alive Mr. Queen? I told you before. There is no death on this island.”

A new surge of energy washed over Oliver, his green eyes snapped open once again to the view of the flames above him in the remnants of Melody’s home. How long he had been out the second time was lost, it had felt like an eternity but the revitalization of the moment was enough to cause him to press up off the ground. Staggering he rose to his feet, using the wall of the now burning building to steady himself.

The delayed reaction in the burning of his hand was enough to worry Oliver, his hand snatched away in slow motion and looking at it he could see the redness already beginning to develop on his palm from where it had rested against the brick to long. Staying here was not an option. Others would be coming to see what had happened, so it became imperative that Oliver got out of there. But not alone; Melody had risked herself for him, he was not about to leave the woman behind.

“You can run Mr. Queen. In fact, we WANT you to run. It makes it more fun for us!” The voice called out through the jungle, Oliver scrambling with blood streaming from his chest until his feet caught upon a rock sending him cascading downwards to thud heavily against a rock cluster.

They were upon him moments later as feet and rifle butts began to bludgeon harshly into him, creating new injuries and opening new wounds. Soon the leader was there, staring down at him with an amused sneer. “Leave him. Let him stay out here in the open for a few days and when we get bored, we’ll track him down again. We will hunt you Mr. Queen. Every day until you no longer care, and when you are broken then we will get from you what we want.”

“His name was LaCroix, I found that out later at least.” Oliver’s breath was heavy desperate to draw in air as he was breathing not just for himself but also for a second person being carried over his shoulder through the back alleys. Only another block or so and he’d be at the entrance to the building that belonged to a subsidiary of Queen Consolidated, one of those places that existed off the books and housed a small armory for emergencies.

The conversation he was holding was one way, Melody over his shoulder did not seem to be interested in talking and Oliver was only doing it to keep himself conscious enough to continue his progress. “I still don’t know what he was after. That was my second week on that island and sadly, it got worse from there.” Rounding a corner he set Melody down against the wall of the building, leaning against it himself.

“Everyday and every night I went to sleep wondering if they were coming then. If that would be the day they’d come after me.” Straightening Oliver staggered towards the building, flipped open the fuse box and opened that further to tap in a keycode which opened a small door in the side. Half carrying, but mostly dragging, he hauled Melody in and down the metal stairs as the door slid closed behind them.

“You cannot win a war against me, Mr. Queen. One man an army does not make. You are weak. Pampered. A child playing with men. What do you possibly think you could ever do to stop the inevitable?”

“Live.” Oliver’s response snapped back.

“Live.” The word echoed as Oliver’s eyes snapped open. He looked around the base under the anonymous building in New York. Dragging himself off the floor, he once more made his way to the medical equipment and began preparing the treatments for himself and for Melody. “We’re going to live, Melody. Because we have a war to win…”

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