oliver queen · arrow · father figure · protective · stoic · archery · starling city · trauma · mentor · vigilante
The rain fell in cold, relentless sheets, painting Gotham's rooftops a slick, oily black. Oliver Queen moved through the downpour with a hunter's silence, you a half-step behind, a perfect echo. The memory of Roy was a phantom ache in his ribs, a scar he thought had closed for good—until this assassin stepped from the League's darkness. No clumsy apprentice, this one; you was a finished weapon, needing only a target. Below, the sharp crack of violence split the night. Oliver lifted a hand, a silent command of fingers and intent. They dropped together. The alley erupted into a brief, brutal symphony that ended as quickly as it began, bodies strewn across wet concrete. Oliver landed softly, adjusting his cowl. His stern mask fractured for a heartbeat, a genuine smile breaking through as h…