Dedicated to @CamrynKissel, @NewYorkDoll, and NoraXSWest-AllenFam for their kind feedback on my stories!
And merry Christmas Eve, if you celebrate :)

"We're only going to get one chance at this, so we need to make it count," Thought Oliver, determinedly as he marched a handcuffed Slade Wilson out of their "borrowed" van.

Several fresh cuts covered The Deathstroke's face, shackles chaining his muscular legs to one another tighter than the winter scarves Felicity always insisted all of the team wear every holiday season.

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Oliver had asked his former enemy minutes prior as they were getting ready to drive to the coordinates Joe had so kindly gifted to him before jumping out of his plane.

Though of course, not before kidnapping both William and Mia.

"Yeah, Kid. It's the best chance we have at getting all of our kids back." Slade had answered, unwaveringly as he watched Oliver ready his compound bow with a sharply pointed green arrow.

"Okay, then let's get it done." He had nodded, agreeingly as he'd pulled the small silver zipper of his green leather suit's front up, covering his strong body with bullet-proof protection.

Let's just say the last part of their conversation ended in some necessary injury on Slade's part to make the whole situation look more believable. But for possibly the first time since their time on the island, Oliver felt no victory in beating up the older Deathstroke.

It might have taken us twelve years to overcome our mistakes, but we actually might care about each other again.

The icy ground cracked beneath the men's feet as they moved towards the Russian prison's towering two-story building, its shabby appearance only leading more credence to how abandoned the place truly was. Faded pale patches of gray lined its exterior, sending chills down the average person's spine, but both of the fighters who approached its front were far from normal. The darkened winter sky blanketed the pitch black night that threatened to consume the two men's bodies into its infinite abyss.

The air blew roughly against Oliver's green leathered shoulders as they finally reached the door, his intricately designed emerald hood and mask concealing the look of determination that lay behind his worn eyes.

No matter how this goes, my kids will be safe before this night is over.

"You must be the boss' special guest," smirked one of the entrance's two front guards, his corpulent body sauntering towards the hero and his captive with an air of obliviousness.

Clearly, the Wilson brothers did not pay for the highest quality of hired guns, but then again, they didn't have very much time to put the whole operation together either.

Not that it matters much considering no person could stop me from getting through those doors, especially a thug.

"Why don't you uncuff my hands and you'll figure out just how special of a guest I am?" Offered Slade, his head cocking dangerously at the man.

Oliver remained silent as he watched the overly confident soldier take a few nervous steps away from the deadly criminal.

"That's what I thought," breathed Slade, his husky voice growling with annoyance.

The man gave Oliver a demanding look, telling him to reprimand his hostage, but The Green Arrow merely shrugged, unphased.

"Just let them in already," groaned the second man as he took a thick bite out of a bright green apple.

At least one of them are competent enough to pay attention.

"Fine, but you better not try anything," warned the first guard as he wagged an accusing finger at the hero, though it was hard to take him seriously when his whole body was vigorously shaking with fear.

Oliver took a deep breath, now standing face to face with the much too cocky hired thug.

"Let me just ask you this, do you honestly believe that if I were to try to do something that your boss wouldn't like you could actually stop me?" Asked Oliver, an expressionless face carrying his nonchalant demeanor.

"Well..." stammered the man, a few drops of sweat falling down his face as he tried his very best to avoid the Archer's glare.

"That's what I thought," concluded Oliver, his gaze lingering intently on the guard for another moment or two as they all waited for the iron doors to open from the interior.

This is one of the only slightly entertaining parts about having such an intimidating appearance.

Slade chuckled softly, watching his friend's silent look of triumph before both men disappeared into his sons' base of operations.

"Thank God, he's gone," breathed the first of the men as he dropped down into a camping seat positioned clumsily beside his fellow guard.

"Meh, I think I could've taken him," stated the second of the men, taking another messy bite of the juicy green apple.

Only the finest levels of nutrition would do for such a highly trained warrior as he was.

"Yeah, sure..." laughed the first of the guards, his voice echoing around the quiet forest's woods that surrounded them.

"I'm being serious! I could take him!" Protested the second of the men as he stood up, proudly taking a third chunk out of his apple.

But as he pretended to stand gloriously upon the ground that the notorious Green Arrow had just surrendered, an arrow whizzed past his thickly clothed shoulder, shooting directly through the apple. Its fresh juices dripped down the man's hand like warm syrup on fried pancakes, its squishy insides disappearing into the piled snow that lay around them.

Both men jumped backwards, the second of the two guards quickly dropping the contaminated piece of fruit onto the ice-laced ground.

"Good job, Kid," congratulated Slade as he watched Oliver quietly pull his head back in through the open door frame, his black bow gripped tightly at his side.

"I gave them a warning this time," reasoned Oliver as he gestured for his partner to keep walking.

I can still picture Felicity's gentle laugh at that practical joke.

A small half-smile fell onto his tired face as he walked alongside his "prisoner," ignoring the many armed men that lined each room around them. Their eyes followed their every movement, seemingly narrowing tighter as the men ventured further into the Deathstrokes' hideout. It was scarcely typical protocol not to blind their guests before admittance, though the Wilson brothers knew it would help nothing when talking about a man with such keen senses as Kapushion.

"Remind me again why you can't have the blonde here with you?" Asked Slade, clearly having sensed Oliver's contained pain that weighed down on his chest heavier than a thousand pounds of bricks.

He had vaguely touched on the subject of what the Monitor needed him to do, namely for the sake of explaining how not only was his son now an adult, but he also had a fully grown-up daughter, too.

Yeah, I really do have a deeper appreciation of how Barry can even explain these things and not sound like a complete idiot.

"It isn't safe for her to be here with me," responded Oliver, his attention intentionally focused on searching the glass panes of every door they passed, hoping to see the loving face of one of his children without any success.

And yet another sword was driven right through his chest.

Their footsteps seemed to echo throughout the grim halls as they walked so cautiously up the chipped stone steps that connected the abandoned building's two floors.

"But it's safe for your children?" Remarked Slade, scoffing ironically as he felt the metal chains wrapped around his ankles drag against the tile ground with such noise that could mute any form of spying done by their enemies.

"Didn't have a choice, Slade. The Monitor decided that one for me," responded Oliver, slightly bitterly as they turned to the right, only mere rooms away from the place that the Wilson brothers had instructed them to meet.

In just a few very short seconds, both fathers would once again lay eyes on their children, or in the case of Slade's youngest son, for the first time.

"And since when have you ever let someone's commands stop you from doing something you want? You certainly didn't listen to mine," commented Slade, sarcastically as the two men stopped a few feet from the head's door, just out of the four guards' earshot.

Yeah, that's a mostly fair statement.

"Since I found out that I was going to have to die to save the multiverse," retorted Oliver, his words sounding even crazier when said aloud.

Never had he thought he'd be facing something the way the universe needed him to now, yet evitable fate seemed to be pulling him straight into the light that lay just beyond the field of blissful happiness. No, he would never dare to use the word blissful, rather, content happiness.

Slade said nothing, shifting his heavy-booted feet a few times as he contemplated his old ally's words with careful consideration.

"If you're waiting for a punchline then, I'll just give you the heads up that none's coming," sighed Oliver as he ran his black-gloved hand over his face, impatiently.

Whether he was agitated because he wanted to save his kids or because he just didn't want to be talking about this subject was a mystery even Oliver himself couldn't quite answer.

"Well, you always said that you were destined for great things on that island, only I don't think anyone really believed you then, especially me," scoffed Slade, honestly.

"Pretty sure the problem was that I actually believed it myself," agreed Oliver, slight regret hanging in his voice.

It's hard to think we were ever the same person considering there's only little fragments of who that Oliver Queen was left inside me.

"But that's all you have to say? After hearing that I'm going to have to die to save the multiverse?" Questioned Oliver, confusedly.

Slade may not have been easily phased by abnormal things, but Oliver figured that anyone would be at least somewhat startled by hearing such outlandish news.

"I mean, times have changed, Kid. And your life mostly gets stranger every time I see you," reminded Slade, genuinely.

Both men turned their heads to confirm what they expected to be true, that all of the guards were still staring blankly across the hall, unable to hear what either of the men were saying.

"Many things have changed since we were stranded on that island over ten years ago, but one thing that hasn't changed about you is your will to protect others. And that includes whatever threat is trying to hurt your family," stated Slade, the smallest hint of compassion hidden within his always stern voice.

"I just don't know how I'm going to leave them, to leave my kids, to leave Felicity behind," admitted Oliver, sadly.

"Nobody ever knows until the day that decision comes, Kid," reassured Slade, a sense of understanding lying behind his tired eyes.

Oliver nodded, knowing his friend's words were true, only wishing they weren't.

This mission is only going to get harder the longer it continues.

But Oliver didn't have much more time to ponder this thought for at that very moment, the scratched up doors to the brothers' head office were slowly swung open, revealing the awaiting face of Grant Wilson.

"So, I see that you decided to show up, Queen?" Remarked Grant, his face covered by a black and orange Deathstroke mask that mirrored his father's with perfect accuracy.

"Just let me see my kids," replied Oliver, sternly as he cautiously stepped into the room.

From the outside, it had merely appeared to be a meeting room consisting mostly only of a large polished black table and several desk chairs that occasionally rolled from side to side.

Though his thoughts were proven very wrong once he'd stepped foot inside.

The messily decorated grayed room had several glass window panes that looked down upon a stone-walled area laden with various sharp weapon racks. Swords hung from the shelves' tops, their pointy tips dangling downwards at uneven angles. Beside the racks, two rather burly looking men fought viciously in hand to hand combat, their small knives clashing against one another like blades of fire.

Yeah, seems like the operation I'd expect Joe Wilson to be running.

"My brother should be coming out soon with your kids," stated Grant as leaned up against the table's edge, his right knee resting coolly against its slick surface.

Oliver could easily tell that the man was trying his very best not to keep staring at the father he'd never known, though no notions had been made towards what he desired from their connection.

"And what happens after that?" Inquired Oliver, his voice still calm despite the quiet anticipation building within the deepest part of his chest.

Slade remained oddly silent throughout the two men's conversation, his eyes taking in every little detail of the strong man who stood before him. Even the littlest of scratches against his bulky armor seemed to bring powerful thoughts of consideration to the soldier as he internally measured who his son really was without asking any questions.

I've learned the hard way that sometimes asking your kids questions is the right decision to make and other times it just leads to more arguments. Especially when you're as closed off and awful at dealing with emotions as I am. Unless you count anger, but I don't in this particular situation.

"Well, that depends on if you keep your part of the deal," answered Grant, nodding his head towards Slade without even the slightest gesture of eye contact.

Clearly, more than one of the Wilsons were anxious to see what the next moments of their lives may bring forward.

"And he would have no reason not to," replied Slade, his low voice now breaking through what had formed of the icy barrier of built-up tension that coursed between father and son.

It's probably good he said something because right now, the only words that are coming to mind include my fist connecting with his face mid-conversation.

"Then, let's get this trade over with," announced Grant, agitatedly as he grabbed the black home-phone's handle from the center of the table.

It had to have been at least three years since the last time Oliver had seen anyone use a phone that old.

Then again, that is kind of a given when you marry a tech genius as smart as Felicity is.

Oliver and Slade exchanged a mutual look of understanding as they both carefully watched Grant roughly dial several numbers into the old phone before abruptly picking up its slick body and pressing it against his right ear. An odd expression seemed to crawl its way across Grant's face as he listened to the receiving line's every word, his anger only growing with each second that passed by.

Please tell me something didn't happen to the kids...

"That's not possible! Joe would've never let that happen!" Boomed Grant, his furious voice echoing around the room louder than the raging snow storm that had so recently blown against the building's exterior.

Oliver listened as closely as he possibly could without letting go of the chains that enabled Slade, immobilized so as to maintain their cover.

"Then get my brother on the phone! I don't care where he is right now, get him on the phone!" Demanded Grant, his temper flaring just as quickly as his brother's had during his fight with Oliver on the plane.

The four guards stationed near the door shifted uncomfortably in place, hoping to avoid the fury of The Deathstroke.

"Fine, I'll just do it myself then!" Yelled Grant as he angrily slammed the phone back down in its plastic slot, his fists now clenched tightly at his sides.

Oliver narrowed his eyes as he watched Grant inhale a deep breath, trying his very best to retain some resemblance of dignity while his enemies were watching.

"You two stay here for a moment while my brother and I deal with a complication," informed Grant as pushed himself off of the polished surface.

Oliver extended his right arm outward, intentionally blocking the man's path.

"You really think I'm just going to sit here while you go try and recapture my kids?" Questioned Oliver, a look of pure intensity covering his determined face.

I've seen enough people lie to tell the difference between a plan complication and an outright flaw in execution. Plus, they're my kids, after all.

"Move or I'll make you," spat Grant, his face so close to the hero's that his words of fury were practically spit on Oliver's face.

Oliver knew in his gut that his kids must've been trying to escape, but the fact that there was still a slim chance that they may not be left a sinking sensation to fall over his entire body.

The hero groaned before reluctantly pulling his arm back to his side, a small smirk of victory flashing onto Grant's face.

"That's what I thought," stated Grant, proudly as he threw open the room's two beat-up doors and stormed out of the office, leaving Slade to only watch as his son leave them alone to await the results of their complication.

Oliver and Slade shared a mutually quiet sigh, their eyes scanning over the room with acute attention.

"We going with plan B then, Kid?" Confirmed Slade, his voice so low that none of the four guards could hear his question.

Or they were just too oblivious to really notice their surroundings.

I'd honestly bet my money on the second one with how those security guards acted outside.

Oliver nodded, his right hand inconspicuously moving up the side of his suit's leather green pants. His fingers felt the familiar point of his signature arrowhead-shaped pocket knife's point against his tips, his hand grasping its handle firmly.

"Hey, what're you..." started the tallest of the four guards as he quickly dashed towards Oliver, though it was much too late for any type of interception before the hero harshly elbowed the thug in the face, knocking him onto the concrete ground with a loud thud!

The next two minutes flew by for the four hired goons in a split-second as they were swiftly thrown around like the highly undertrained minions they were.

The Green Arrow grabbed the second man's fist as it flew at him, Slade wrapping the middle of his chains around his enemy's neck before flipping him onto the ground. The hero gave his ally a look of skepticism as he watched the goon lay still on the concrete.

"Not dead, just unconscious," reassured Slade, plainly as he easily side-stepped the third enemy's flying bullet, the tiny shot loudly crashing through the glass, letting its fragile contents fall into the recently emptied arena space below the partners.

"Didn't doubt it, just needed to make sure," stated Oliver as he blocked the fourth man's weak attempt at what should have been a side-kick.

Joe's money went straight down the drain on these guys.

But as Oliver was busy countering the fourth thug's moves, the first man swept his legs out from under him.

"Don't like it when it's reversed, do you?" Coughed the goon as he whipped out his left holster's pistol, aiming the barrel of the gun at the vigilante's head.

Slade immediately grabbed the stumbling soldier from behind, punching the weapon out of his shaking hand before kicking both he and the fourth man hard enough in their chests to send them flying through the table centerpiece.

"Thanks," nodded Oliver as his partner swiftly pulled his old friend to his feet, Slade giving him a quick nod back.

There was now only one thug remaining in the room, his eyes darting towards the phone in the middle of the damaged table. So easily he could call for backup and dozens of men would come bursting into the room within minutes.

Oh no, you don't!

Oliver quickly slid one of the rolling chairs across the room with enough strength to knock the thug straight off his feet, allowing Slade the opening to punch the man clean in the face.

"It really is just like the old days," Slade laughed quietly as both men stepped over the unconscious thug's bodies, moving as quickly as they could in the direction Grant had left in.

We're in the home stretch...