❛ Killing is not the game I registered for ❜ 

My name is Annabelle Carter. To my friends, I am the daughter who just returned home after being lost at sea five years ago. They don't know I came back with a mission to bring justice to our city... and they never can. The men and women Oliver Queen and I have targeted are dangerous, corrupt. A virulent cancer. Cancers like James Holder... whose corporation put defective smoke detectors in low-income housing in The Glades. There have been many fires and too many funerals. But cancers can be fought and conquered. All it takes is a surgeon... and the right instrument.

Anna glanced down at her leather journal, lightly closing the front cover to flatten against the old and worn paper. Her writing flowed beautifully across the stained material and her mind was immediately drawn to the island. The place where Anthony Ivo had given her a journal as a reward for her first kill. The place where she wrote everything she did in hopes of getting off the island one day with a story. A place where she no longer is and dreads to hear of. A place where she died and was reborn into a new person.

Drawing her eyes up from her closed diary, she stared ahead at the large mirror in front of her and stood up from her bed, letting her feet touch the hard ground. It was time for another journey. It was time to become someone else. Something else.

•••

The purple-tipped arrow soared through the air with flawless acceleration and made impact with a cup in James Holder's hand, shattering the glass and cascading the ground with a booming sound. The man who once held the said glass looked up in fear and confusion, spotting a vigilante with a dark black hood standing in the shadows. "I have armed security inside. All I have to do is call out," Holder warned while staring at the mystery figure. 

"Go ahead," the figure suggested. "They can't hear you."

After her words, Anna dropped three guns onto the deck, watching contently as they lied useless on the ground. "What the hell do you want?" Holder asked, a slight shake in his voice. "How many people died in those fires?" Oliver demanded, jumping out from behind a generator and taking a stance beside the other. "How many?" he shouted again.

"The courts say you don't 'owe your victims anything.' I disagree."

"James Holder, you--" A gunshot pierced the air and cut Anna off. A bullet whisked past her ear and engraved itself into James Holder who was now dead, his body floating in the once crystal blue water of his pool. Oliver shoved Anna out of the way and to protection while drawing his arrows and firing at the first thing he saw, then ducking next to Anna. 

He crouched down, looking at his upper arm that was beginning to soak with fresh blood. "Hey," Oliver whispered, placing a hand on Anna's shoulder. She winced and pulled back, a hiss leaving her lips as she saw her own arm. The bullet that hit Rasmus barely skimmed her arm, but so enough that she would need stitches. Oliver saw the wound and glanced back at the pool before lowering his head in shame.

•••

Back at the warehouse, Oliver had successfully patched his partner in crime's shoulder while she worked with her nimble fingers on his wound. She felt slightly dizzy, an odd pounding in the back of her head, but she brushed it off to be a growing headache from the failed mission thirty minutes prior. "Your's isn't as bad," she muttered to Oliver, pulling the thread through the skin again. Oliver winced, wanting so badly to be done with the stitching, but he knew he had to bear through this pain that couldn't compare to others he had endured. "What would I do without you?" he chuckled bitterly. Anna rolled her eyes and placed the needle and thread into the pan after finishing the last stitch, "Die, most likely. I've saved your ass a handful," she retorted with a hint of sass leaking from her throat. 

"Might I remind you that we were on the same boat. And I've saved you just a much," he retorted. "Yeah, whatever," Anna sighed, then picking up a shirt from Oliver's bag. She tossed it to him with a simple nod, assuring him his stitches were done and he could put the shirt on. Anna -however- preferred to stay in her sports bra because she didn't want to waste a perfectly clean jacket just to cover up when no one else was around. "It's no surprise a man as corrupt as James Holder has more than one enemy," Oliver spoke up while sitting in the chair at the desk to cross the name off the list. "Can't it just be luck of the draw? Someone hunting for an easy kill?" Anna asked, leaning on the edge of the table once the dizziness started to push to her temporal lobe. "Think about that sentence, Anna," Oliver told her, then pushing to his feet.

He immediately stumbled on his toes and began to fall forward before Anna hopped up and pushed him to a standing position. But right as she did, the wave of nausea hit her, too. "The bullet," Anna said, worry in the back of her throat. Oliver pulled away from his girlfriend and searched through the piles of gauze before sliding on his knees to unlock the crate. "Poison? Wh-what do you think?" she rambled just as Oliver heaved open the lid to the crate and stuffed his hand inside to grab the herbs from the island. "Anna! Now!" Oliver shouted. 

The brunette ran to his side and took the natural medicine from his hands, stuffing it into her mouth and taking a swig from the bottle of water beside Oliver. Oliver did the same and took heavy breaths, leaning on the concrete ground where Anna was already laying. Her breathing became pants and her vision blurred repeatedly, not seeming to be able to focus for one second.

Anna clutched her abdomen with her shaking hands, frequent cries escaping her lips. "Remove the bullet, and your next test will begin," a soldier said simply with no remorse in his voice. His heavy boots padded on the hard floor and reached the door which slammed behind him as he left. To her dismay and her happiness - yet of which became one - Anna was alone and cried at the pain she was feeling. She had never felt such suffering and she only wanted to return home. She didn't understand why they were hurting her, why they shot her. She promised to help them find the cure, she devoted herself to it. And suddenly it seemed as it didn't matter because they shot her without warning. She hadn't even seen the pistol that was tucked away in a utility belt of the soldier assigned to watch over her. Ivo was nowhere in range to hear the girl's sorrows and Sara was somewhere off with the doctor, most likely learning about the drug that would save millions. "Why are you doing this? What have I done?" Anna yelled, her voice raspy and dry due to the lack of water she consumed in the past week of being trapped on the island. No one answered because no one was in the room, but her shouts didn't go unnoticed. The soldiers began to bet on how long she would make it, and if she ever would.

Anna stood at the computer when Oliver awakened, her back facing him and her eyes shielded down at the desk. She needed a moment - maybe more - to process the memories that have resurfaced, but of course, her time was cut short when she heard the billionaire sit up behind her. "It's late, your mother will be expecting us," she said without turning around, an emotionless monotone to her voice. Oliver had no time to respond since the girl was already out of the room, her jacket in hand. Little did they have any idea that what was waiting for them in their future adventures would bless the bullet wounds they previously endured.

•••

The door to Anna's room was closed tightly to allow for privacy. She was perched on her bed, leaning against the headboard with her laptop resting on her thighs. Her earbuds were plugged into the certain technology with a specific radio frequency shining through her software to give her access to the police radio that her father figure - Lance - was using. She hated spying on him to get her information but it was the easiest way to do so accounting that the police were investigating the scene Anna was so graciously a part of last night. "It doesn't make sense," Lance's voice came over the radio, a static behind the words. 

Anna clicked on her volume rapidly, making sure she could hear every word and every report. Her word document was open to the left of her screen, allowing her to type anything useful shortly so she could report back to Oliver. "Holder fits the profile. Wealthy dirtbag," Hilton replied. "Red meat for 'The Hood' and 'The Hoodess.'"

"We're not wolves you over-incompetent detective," Anna murmured while her fingers typed the conversation between the two. "And we recovered at least one arrow. Purple tip."

"Yeah, only this time the cause of death is a double tap through the heart and our perps don't use firearms," Lance argued. Anna grinned and could picture the man shaking his head while talking. "Why thanks, Lance. Such a pleasure to be recognized," she said to herself.

"Maybe they've finally figured out there are easier ways to kill people than with a bow and arrow."

"I haven't killed anyone, so technically your argument ceases to be true."

Hilton began again, a slightly annoyed tone to his dialect. "I guess like you said, the guys are whack jobs."

The frequency ended at the last word of Hilton and Anna shut the screen of her laptop, letting it rest on her lap. She had the information she needed, and for this particular case, the police weren't hunting 'The Hood' and 'The Hoodess.'

As Anna was sliding off her bed, she received a call alert from her phone with the name Oliver Queen appearing on the screen. She glanced down at the cellular device and picked it up, deciding to take the call just in case Oliver had information on the bullets. And what a nice greeting it was because as soon as the phone was to her ear she heard, "The bullets were laced with curare."

"What if your mother had answered the phone?" Anna spat back, earning a moment of silence at the other end. "I would have told her it was some play I was trying out for and you were helping me go over lines," he excused calmly. "Yes, because the first thing we decide to do after returning home from five years away is an audition for a play. Everyone in this house knows you can't act to save your life."

"I can lie, and isn't that the same thing?"

Anna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "To an extent, Oliver. Anyways, the bullets?"

"Right," he laughed. "They were coated in curare. It's a rare and deadly poison, and it could be the killer's unique MO," he informed her. She shrugged her shoulder up to keep the phone to her ear and sat on the edge of the mattress, yanking her computer to her. She used the hacking skills she possessed to research any closed or open cases dealing with curare and scrolled down hundreds of codes and links.

Anna clicked past hundreds of pictures and files of possible suspects, but she didn't quit until her eyes landed on a picture of a man with greased back hair and sunglasses. "He's killed all over the world," she said to Oliver. "I have him in Chicago, Markovia, Corto Maltese. It looks like Interpol even has a code name for him."

"What is it?"

"Deadshot."

"You know, I was prepared to give James Holder a chance to right his wrongs, but this 'Deadshot' has no morality, no honor, no code. He doesn't kill for justice which makes him as dangerous as anyone on the list. In fact, it puts him right at the top."

"Ollie, you know I am just as on board with you, I got on that train at the same stop. But are you willing to sacrifice your father's wish just to sacrifice another person at the expense of your arrows?"

"What are you saying, Bella? Do you want out?"

"You know well that I don't. But killing is not the game I registered for. Every time I see my own arrow pierce into someone, I see the first bullet I lodged into some innocent bystander. I see him drop to his knees and choke out my name, Ollie. My name. I killed for Sara because I needed to protect her. But my protection for anyone extends to my right hand where the arrow in my bow is being released. I just want to make sure we're thinking this through because murder for justice is one thing, murder for crime is another."

•••

"So, what do you think? Great spot for a nightclub or what?" Oliver asked as Tommy and Diggle trailed behind him and Anna strolling to his left. "Sweet," Tommy admired, being a sucker for any concept that involved excessive drinking and girls parading around in skimpy dresses. "Though I gotta tell you, man, if you're thinking about calling it Queens, I don't think you're gonna' get the clientele that you were hoping for."

"I don't know, Thomas. Travel to New York some time and see for yourself how much they have going on," Anna joked, a smile playing at the corners of her lips and tugging upwards when Tommy laughed and slung an arm around her shoulder, then placing a kiss on her cheek. "Always know when to make a joke, Carter," he praised. "Private office," Oliver added, pointing up and ahead at the elongated staircase. "For the private one-on-one meetings, I would imagine," Tommy jumped in. Anna had grown used to his inappropriate jokes with side-bar meanings and didn't toss him so much as a glance when the comment escaped his mouth.

"Hopefully the occasional two-on-one meeting," Oliver continued the joke, patting his friend on the shoulder. "That I could have gone without hearing for a very long time," Anna blurted out, flicking Tommy and Oliver behind the ear. Tommy laughed, joining Oliver in their joyously filled chorus of enjoyment, but Diggle just followed the three around with no mind to their childish jokes. 

"Man, are you sure you wanna' do this?" Tommy wondered. "It's not like you have any experience in running a -- well, running anything. I mean, what about you, Carter? You in on this, too?"

Anna scoffed and looked around, "What? A nightclub the benefits the people with a set income? I'm offended," she scolded, a warning glare across her eyes. "So, what are you doing? Taking up the mantle of Carter Provision from your folks?" 

"Uh, maybe," she uneasily replied. "I mean, the mantle isn't mine to take, right? They still have the company, it's just not as effective as it used to be."

"You aren't going to wait around till the will is effective, are you?" Tommy asked. Anna shrugged and stepped into the middle of the large open space, letting her eyes wander around as if she had never set foot in the warehouse. "No, I don't think so. You know, they still don't believe I'm alive. Mother got released from the hospital this morning," she trailed off. After pondering in silence for a moment, she smiled, "You're right, Thomas."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I think so. While I'm out and about I might as well do my share in Carter Provision. Start a small organization on my own, you know, with the same purpose. All the people of the Glades really need is revenue and support. And say, if I do take up the mantle of the Provision anytime soon, it won't be too hard to enlarge the business and add on my own."

"Now you're talking! What, my two best friends in the entire world becoming businesswomen?"

Oliver cold-hard glared at Tommy while Anna smiled victoriously, "Hey, don't get mad at me. Everyone knows women are on the first pedestal."

"At least that one is," Oliver grumbled. "How about tomorrow night the three of us we go and scope out the competition," Tommy suggested. "There's a new club opening downtown. It's called 'Poison'. Max Fuller owns it."

"Actually, the four of us. Diggle's coming, too," Anna piped up, motioning to her friend behind her. Oliver ignored the comment and looked at Tommy. "Max Fuller?"

"Mm-hm," Tommy hummed. "I slept with his fiance," Oliver said, trying his best to be quiet due to Anna standing by his side. "Oh right, before the wedding," she chimed in, already knowing the full story. Diggle raised an eyebrow and Anna waved her hand to justify the tale, "It was before we started dating, John. And it's also a really long story."

"It was at the rehearsal dinner," Oliver corrected. "The rehearsal dinner is technically before the wedding," Tommy snickered softly. "And besides, who stays mad at a castaway?" he added before pulling his phone from his back pocket that had begun to ring in the middle of the sentence. "Ah, damn it, I gotta' roll," Tommy sighed. "Anyway, I'll see you later, man," he said to Oliver, patting him on the shoulder. 

"Bye, beautiful," he charmed while approaching Anna and kissing her cheek softly. She whispered a 'bye' to him and smiled while he trotted off and out the warehouse doors. 

"So, what do you think?" Oliver asked Diggle who was surveying the place carefully. "Well, I'm here to provide security, sir, not a commentary."

"Oh, come on, Dig. Do him a favor, he has a low self-esteem," Anna chuckled, motioning to her boyfriend. "I highly doubt that, Annabelle," Diggle responded with a slight smile. She laughed and looked back at Oliver who was narrowing his eyes playfully at her. "Well, this is the Glades, right? Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet."

"I am Oliver Queen, right? People would stand in line for three hours if I opened a club."

"With all due respect, Annabelle is much more humble than you. Is she the better half in your relationship?" Diggle remarked.

"She's the better whole in the relationship," Oliver proudly said, then pulling her to his side and kissing her on the cheek. The conversation between Diggle and Oliver continued - Diggle making a statement about how Oliver is like a white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised, and it made a spark light in Anna's head about the coincidental metaphor that related strongly to them both. She began to wonder how much Diggle truly knew.

•••

"I hope you have some good news for me because my organization of the company I'm planning on building is going great," Anna said just as she answered the phone. She was walking around the city in her favorite tan trenchcoat with a Styrofoam cup of black coffee in her hands. Her eyes were scanning over the possible locations for her start-up company and the fact that Oliver was chatting to her didn't help her concentration. "7.62-millimeter rounds. The money trail leads back to the Bratva."

Anna halted dead in her steps, then sliding into the alley next to her so no one would hear her conversation. "The Bratva? Are you saying they paid Deadshot to assassinate Holder? This isn't good luck, Ollie. Not in the slightest. We know the Bratva, the Bratva isn't good."

"Exactly, Bella. We know the Bratva."