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 Compromised

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AuteurMessage
angel_15
Little miss addict
Little miss addict


Messages : 6551
Date d'inscription : 30/06/2009
Age : 27
Localisation : In Star City with Oliver Queen

MessageSujet: Compromised   Sam 19 Sep - 23:02

Titre: Compromised
Auteur: yespleasehawkeye
Lien de l'originale: http://yespleasehawkeye.tumblr.com/post/128760585411/olicity-compromised
Genre: angst
Catégorie: Oliver Queen
Résumé: Felicity and Ava are kidnapped

---------

This is not the Arrow.

Even the shadows cower from him as he moves through the city, his eyes darker than any cloaks they can shed on it’s corners. This is not the Arrow who has hidden within them, restoring them to their rightful place in the depths of night. This is not the Arrow who has concealed the true darkness into the places light cannot touch.

This is not the Vigilante.

This is not a man who bargains for the good of others. He is not here to do good, he is not on a mission for justice. He is only here for one purpose; his own, and those who understand what it is to experience fear will not stand in his way. Who could attempt to hold back the man who controls the movement of shadows?

This is not the Hood.

This is not a man who hides his identity. His identity was compromised before he shed his other self and donned his leathers that night, but he is no less feared. He is more so. This is the heart of a man in the body of a ruthless killer, and the heart of a man is a very dangerous thing when you take it from his chest still beating and squeeze his lifeforce to the ground.

This is not the Bratva Captain.

This is not a man who will trade you the world in exchange for your skills. This is not a man who will offer protection in the form of assassination, theft and debauchery. This is not a hired gun who will take a life if the price is right.

Tonight he is none of these men.

He is Oliver Queen.

He is the man behind the mask, the night stalking fox beneath the hood, but there is no boot polish concealing his eyes tonight, no need to accentuate the darkness that bores from the pit of his blue orbs when it could already tempt the sweetest soul into betraying their innocence away.

This is a man who has killed for the woman he loved. He has taken a life at the mere threat to hers, and he will not hesitate to do that again. This is a man who has made enemies crumble, legacies shatter, and he will not be leaving tonight without satisfaction.

This is a man who will end lives tonight. Without mercy.

Because he is Oliver Queen.

He presses the tip of his arrow ever so slightly against the throb of a jugular. It is is favourite artery to slash, because it is over so quickly, and he doesn’t like to create a mess. Besides, this man before him doesn’t deserve the opportunity to make peace with his passing, and his death will be swift for that. He indents the sharpened tip against the skin just enough that the blood rushes to the skin, a pin prick of a slaughtered warning.

“I will ask you one last time, and then you will die,” he says calmly.

The man shudders.

“Where. Is. My. Family?”



This is not Mayor Queen.

This is not a man who runs his city with the same reckless perfection that he runs his car. This is a man who expertly guides his family into the back of the car his friend drives them home with. This is a man who cradles his daughter into his lap while she trembles and clings to him. This is a man who embraces his wife into his side as she cements herself and their daughter into the arms of the man who came for them.

This is not fun Uncle Ollie.

He will not spend his evening telling stories to his godchildren and his new nephew in all the voices they desire. He will not play games or sing songs. He will hold the same responsibility but he will not be doing so for the source of amusement.

This is Oliver Queen.

He will not tease his wife when she grumbles awake in the morning, searching for coffee before her glasses are even on. He will not ravish her in the shower in the blissful moments before their daughter wakes. He will not be these men. But the day after, he will. Tonight he will watch over them while they sleep. Tomorrow he will cook them breakfast, embrace a day of favourites because these are his girls and he will spoil them as long as there is breath in his body. He lives for their smiles and they were almost lost to him tonight.

This is Daddy.

This is Husband of Mine.

This is who he is when the hood comes down.

_________________

Alright, you sure about this?
Never been more sure of anything in my life.
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