Dedicated to @CamrynKissel, @NewYorkDoll, and NoraXSWest-AllenFam for their kind comments on my Arrow projects :)

Oliver breathed a harsh breath of musty air, his lungs tightening as he pushed himself back onto his weary feet, a pounding sensation forcing its way through his mind like fields of fiery flames.

"William, are you alright?" Asked Oliver as he quickly looked around, desperation building in his every bone.

There were no signs of his son through the chaos that had erupted in the tiny area that he currently stood within.

The room looked nearly empty, the few pieces of fancy white furniture scattered across the thin space in various conditions of battered distress. His hand instantly reached to the base of his snow boots and grabbed the black-framed bow in a firm hold.

Whoever did this must've used pretty specific explosives not to blow a hole in the plane.

His eyes carefully scanned the room for any sign of his enemies as he quietly moved forward, his weapon held steadily at the ready. Several thin slash marks covered the walls as the dimly lit white plane lights periodically flickered on and off. Oliver cautiously ran his winter-gloved hand across one of his enemy's trademark prints, his muscular fingers brushing against its uneven metal. They felt rigid under his inquisitive touch, the thickly designed fabrics of the materials ripping slightly at its jagged points.

Oliver immediately removed his hand before rushing out of the room towards the passenger space of the plane, his left leg aching with shooting pain after every step.

Slade's sons must've gotten free of Argus' hold, but what would they even want with William and Mia? It would have been quicker for their sloppy tactics to just shoot down the plane.

The only thing that brought even a little relief to the vigilante was singularly the fact that neither of the Wilsons knew that Mia and William were his kids.

An arrow remained firmly pressed against the nocking point of the hero's bow as he finally reentered where he hoped his daughter would still be found. His surroundings looked in no better shape than the ones prior, only there were visible punching prints laden across the plane's delicate interior.

"Mia, where are you," thought Oliver aloud as he slowly walked up to where he'd last seen her, a pair of dark gray headphones still lying on the leather cushion she'd previously been sitting on.

I need to know she's okay. I need to know that they're both okay.

He sighed a deep breath, trying his very best to suppress any feelings of worry until after he'd located their attacker.

"Take one more step forward and it's lights out," declared Joe Wilson, a cruel look of excitement covering his cut-up face.

Oliver's eyes were instantly met with the sight of a muscular man's pointed sword at his throat.

Because why not just add more problems to my already long list of things, why don't you?!

Several patches of bright red blood were splattered against the navy blue and orange armor that so generously protected the man's body. His jet black hair was tousled messily upon his head, his right eye visibly black and blue despite the lack of suitable lights.

Clearly, the Argus agents had put up quite the fight against the newly titled "Deathstroke."

"Where did you take my team?!" Demanded Oliver, a fiery determination to save his family carrying his every syllable.

"You really thought it'd be that easy, didn't you? I mean, my father did always say how dumb you were," sneered Joe, grinning as his hand remained glued to the handle of his shining silver katana.

"Enough with the games, Joe. I want to know where they are," stated Oliver, his temper quickly growing as worry seeped into his ice cold veins with immense intensity.

Would he have had enough time to take them off the plane after I was unconscious?

"Hey, I'm not the one who gave up their identities," scoffed Joe, a knowing expression covering his smug face.

Oliver just stared at his enemy, questioningly.

"Oh, the sassy blonde girl gave up her and the other guy's identities, daddy," Clarified Joe, his tone even more demeaning than when their confrontation just started.

A feat Oliver had originally doubted was possible, unless he were to match Damian Darhk's level of overconfidence.

Mia must've been worried about us and let some of that slip during the fight. Just like I almost do every time I'm fighting for my family, only she hasn't had as much experience at hiding it.

Oliver clenched his fists tightly at his sides, hot anger nearly boiling over the surface.

"I swear, if you so much as lay a finger on either of my kids, I will kill you," threatened Oliver, a cold expression hanging on his face as he continued to stare his enemy in the eyes with an intensity that could easily burn through one's soul.

"But you don't do that anymore, right? Not after you nearly killed my father!" Shouted Joe, his eyebrows narrowing closely.

Despite their most recent falling out due to differing "opinions," Joe still was aching for his father's attention. Much like a needy puppy begs for treats, only with deadly swords instead of cute teeth.

This is my opening.

Oliver took advantage of his enemy's sudden fit of anger, using the frame of his bow to throw the mighty sword to the side, knocking it out of the younger fighter's hands with a distinctive clank!

The Emerald Archer immediately trained his bow on his enemy, aiming a sharply pointed green arrow at the Deathstroke's head.

"Oh, so that's how you wanna play it?" Snarled Joe as he quickly whipped out two small knives from black patches on both sides of his lumbering suit's cargo pants.

Both fighters moved quicker than The Flash could run, various arrows and small weapons flying across the room as the enemies battled. Joe leapt over a nearby seating area to avoid Oliver's next attack, the Green Arrow still following close behind.

"You'd have a lot better of a chance at winning if your brother was here," reminded Oliver as he swiftly blocked Joe's flying fist, throwing a returning hit to his enemy's side.

"Unfortunately for you, he was a little busy hijacking the other plane," taunted Joe, knowingly.

Not even as thick of armor as his could fully take the impact of Oliver's powerful blow to the stomach.

The faster I deal with him, the faster I can stop Grant and save my kids.

Joe reeled backwards slightly, gritting his teeth at the pain before successfully kicking the stronger vigilante in the chest. Oliver didn't even flinch as he failed to block the heavy-boot's kick, his eyes remaining locked on their target.

"Bet that one hurt a little bit, didn't it?" Joe mocked, though this victory was short-lived for Oliver immediately followed up the Deathstroke's punch with a speeding emerald arrow through the man's right shoulder.

"Ahhh," moaned Joe, his left hand instinctively grabbing his injured shoulder, gingerly.

"You should've surrendered when you had the chance," stated Oliver before his foot once again collided with The Deathstroke's chest.

He really doesn't know how to stop talking...

Joe stumbled over the top of two of the white passenger chairs, small drops of blood from his face smearing against the back of the cushions. Oliver soon followed, jumping over the chairs before forcibly grabbing Joe by the throat and pinning his upper body against the wall.

"Okay, maybe you are as good a fighter as dad said," admitted Joe, his teeth stained red as he struggled for breath against the strong hero's grasp.

"What did you do with my kids?!" Repeated Oliver, his grip tightening at the very last word.

Nothing in this world makes a parent angrier than knowing someone intentionally tried to hurt their kids, especially if the parent in question is a literal superhero who never misses.

"How have you not gotten it yet? I don't want your kids! I wasn't even planning on capturing them until the opportunity prompted itself to me by your daughter! I honestly don't care if they live or die, but what I do want is something from you," spat Joe, each syllable getting harder to speak through his collapsing throat.

Oliver sighed, agitatedly at his enemy's response.

"What do you want then?" he demanded, his grip still held firmly around the second man's neck.

"To make a simple exchange. I give you your kids back, who are weirdly old I may add, and you get us our father," stated Joe, a hint of excitement lingering in his weak voice.

"Why haven't you just found him yourself?" Questioned Oliver, skeptically.

"Because I thought it would be more fun this way," replied Joe, a large smirk twisting beneath his bleeding lips.

Oliver's face remained placid as he contemplated his options as to whether or not the young Deathstroke would actually make an even trade.

They're going to try and trick me, that's for sure, but it isn't really giving up Slade if I'm reuniting him with his sons. And even if it is, I'll be able to make sure both of the kids are safe.

"Fine," answered Oliver as he dropped Joe to the ground, the latter's muscular legs thudding against the plane's flooring.

Joe side-eyed the hero as he stood up, aggressively dusting off his pants with his one good arm.

"Good, but we expect in-person proof of our father's presence before we let your kids go," added Joe, clearly as he picked up his silver katana's slick black handle with his left arm.

"This isn't my first hostage exchange," remarked Oliver, bitterly as he continued to aim his bow at the back of his enemy's head.

When it came to people as notorious as the Wilson family, Oliver had learned to never let his guard down.

Joe just rolled his eyes as he grabbed a nearby parachute from within an upper storage's pop-out cabinet.

"Feel free to keep the plane," commented Joe, graciously bowing as he threw the sliding door open with his uninjured arm.

I swear, if he wasn't holding my kids hostage right now, I would drop-kick him out of this plane.

Freezing cold air immediately encompassed both men's bodies, sending chills of the wintery air down their sturdy spines. The breeze blew roughly against Joe's face, tossing his short black hair in front of his face.

"See you later, Queen," smirked Joe, knowingly before leaping out of the open door, the parachute attached tightly to his back.

Oliver once again clenched his left fist near his side, his every frustration coursing through his fingers as they dug deeper into his palm.

Don't worry kids, I'm coming.