I had had enough experience with being questioned and interrogated, that sitting at the police station as Quentin Lance stared us down felt like nothing. Well, almost nothing.

I sat on a chair next to Oliver, my wrist in a brace from the ER visit, and my jaw and ribs hurt. I was putting on a show, making it look like I was hurt worse than I was, because I needed to look like I was weak and afraid, and not like I had killed two people.

Oliver held my other hand and Lance asked,

"So you're saying that some guy in a hood with a bow and arrows appeared and saved the two of you and killed all the people there?"

"That is what we explained three times, officer," Oliver said tensely.

"Arrows like these?" He asked, and picked up a plastic ziploc bag with one of Oliver's arrows inside, the tip coated in blood. "This got pulled out of some guy's neck."

Oliver nodded. "Well, that pretty much backs up our story, doesn't it?"

"What about you?" Lance demanded as he turned towards me, my bloody pocketknife in another evidence bag. "You killed someone."

My eyes began to fill with tears, and they began to stream down my face. "I-I had it already... I got it from my house because we're selling it, and-"

"Cut to the chase. You killed him, did you?"

"I-I didn't mean to," I said through a sob, lifting my hands to cover my face.

"Leave her alone," Oliver snarled.

"You're not the one who did it, Mr. Queen," Lance shot back venomously. "Tell me, something, Miss Walker. Did my daughter die like you killed that man?"

"I-It was self defense," I whimpered, ignoring his question. "He was grabbing at my clothes and he-he... I had the knife. He was on top of me a-and he hit me in the face and I was terrified. I got him off and then... then the knife was out... and... oh gosh..."

Oliver's arm wrapped around me, pulling me into his side. "I think you've asked enough questions. I want my lawyer."

Just then, Mrs. Queen and Tommy came rushing into the room and over to us. I remained seated, but Oliver stood.

I looked up, tears sliding down my cheeks as Tommy squatted in front of me, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

"Hey..." he said gently.

I merely leaned forward and threw my arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly I'm sure I would have choked him if he didn't hug me back just as tightly.

He pulled away and met my eyes, his own shining with tears. "I seem to be a bad luck charm."

I shook my head. "No... you aren't."

He lifted a plastic shopping bag and said with a small, sad smile, "Well, I got the three of us some ice cream. Seems we could all use some today."

I smiled a little sadly. "Yeah. And maybe a nap."

He nodded, then offered me a hand, glancing over his shoulder to see Oliver standing between me and Lance, his mother also scolding him. "Looks like the Queens have this handled, yeah?"

I nodded. "They always do."

******

I stood in the hideout, pulling on my gear and organizing my weapons and ensuring all arrows were accounted for.

"So, let me get this straight," I said as I secured my weapons, straps, and belts. "We've been home for- what? Three weeks now? And during that time, we've gotten the first guy on the List, built up this space, had a giant party thrown for us, gotten kidnapped once, and convinced everyone we're traumatized."

Oliver stood with his bow across from me, examining the string, then got to work pulling arrows from tennis balls he collected from the floor. "Yes. Busy three weeks."

"Bertinelli. That's who you're going after next?" I asked, looking at him.

He paused for a moment, then looked up. "I... no. There's a Martin Somers. Involved in drugs. I caught Thea with drugs, and..." he shook his head. "I don't want her repeating what I did."

I nodded. "I... it's not good timing, but... maybe it is. These renegades are going to take me out of the City for a little while."

He stiffened a little. "How long is 'a while'?"

"I'm not sure. I'm heading to my old home. My dad's safe at the safe house now. I just got alerted he's there. But... I'll need to bring the leader of these renegades back."

"Back," Oliver repeated. "So... ok. So what's your cover, then?"

"My dad and I are going on vacation. I met up with him in Florida. Disney World."

Oliver walked over to me and paused, his eyebrows furrowed. I set what I was working on down and lifted my hands to his cheeks, and his hands came up to hold my wrists, turning his head to kiss the inside of my wrist.

"Hey... I'll be back again before you know it," I said softly. "It's... it's also my father. He's receiving real threats, and I have to go and take care of this. I set up everything on the computers. The plans. Everything. You just have to check them off."

He rested his forehead against mine. "You'll be careful?"

I nodded. "Of course I will. It's my targets you should be worried for," I said and kissed him.

He kissed me back, smiling against my lips as he replied, "Oh I also just know you." He kissed me again before I could scold him. He met my eyes. "Be careful," he said earnestly. "Please."

I nodded, then kissed him again. "I promise I will be careful. I need to check on my dad and my old house. Then I'll check with my dad to see how he's liking the first night in the safe house."

He nodded. "You need backup?"

"Sure, why not?" I asked. "Go suit up."

He smirked a little, sneaking in one more kiss before pulling away and walking over to his own green suit and hood.

He was about to smear some of that green stuff around his eyes when I said, "Wait. I got you something."

He looked at me, an eyebrow raising as I walked over with a small box, then opened it and pulled out the green leather mask I had had made for him, and lifted it up. He smiled, and ducked his head down as I lifted it up and secured it over his head and then pulled it down over his eyes.

I lifted a hand to his chin, tilting his head this way and that, and smiled. "There we go. Now you won't look like an idiot."

He scoffed, and I began to laugh. "Mia!" He exclaimed.

"Oliver, you can't expect some face paint to hide your identity. Now hold still," I said, laughing, and managed to get the mask centered over his eyes and cheekbones, making sure it was straight, then lifted up his hood. "There."

He shook his head at me. "You're ridiculous, Mia."

I shrugged. "Not as ridiculous as face paint and a hood."

He shook his head, but there as still a smile on his face as he picked up his quiver from the weapons rack and I began to sheath my twin swords to my back- Slade's swords.

"How far is this safe house, anyways?"

"Not too far from the hideout, actually. Just... if you have to use your bow, take all your arrows with you."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Because this isn't a Vigilante issue. It's a League issue. And if your green arrows are tied up with the black arrows we use, it'll create more issues than there needs to be." I paused. "I don't have any good feelings about this, Oliver. I have felt uneasy all day. I want to check my old house first, then the safe house."

"What is it?"

"I don't know... but please. Don't shoot unless you have to, and bring your arrows back here. You can't be mixed up in this. It's League business and League business only. It's bad enough I'm bringing you and told you."

He considered my words, then said, "I understand. Let's go."

******

My house was quiet. And dark.

When I was a kid, my mom and dad would make chocolate chip cookies and lemonade for the neighborhood kids and I to enjoy every Saturday. We'd grab our scooters and bikes, and spend hours a day outside, always knowing that at 3 o'clock, it was snack time.

It was funny how memories stayed, even so many, many years later. Two decades. I stood in front of the house, a hoodie from Oliver hiding my suit in case of cameras. I knew he was watching from a rooftop, the comm in my ear connecting us.

My eyes were trained on the front door slightly ajar. My heart was pounding as I stepped forward and pushed the door open, the hinges creaking and groaning. The lock was destroyed. There was a foot-shaped imprint denting the front of the door.

Glass was scattered across the floor, and I froze when I saw bullet casings across the floor, and blood splatter. I immediately ducked into the kitchen as I heard voices down the hall.

The sweatshirt was off, my hood and mask up as I pulled out one my swords from the sheath at my hip, listening closely to the voices.

In Arabic, they were speaking quietly, but I understood every word.

"... she isn't here, and the father is gone."

"Shame we missed him here. He seems to have made it out before we got here," another voice said.

"He took out some of us first. Bullet casings. She has something to do with this."

"The prey hunts, and the hunters are prey in turn," the second man said. He cleared his throat and there was a thump, then he said in English, "Where is Maria Walker?"

A sniffle and a pained groan came from a third person. "I haven't... haven't seen her since she got back," a pained voice said. "I-I swear."

I recognized the voice. A chill went down my spine. It was my neighbor, Nicholas.

An impact sounded and a pained cry escaped his lips. I pulled my bow from my back, and knocked an arrow to its string, holding a second, and releasing a breath, stood, turned the corner, and fired.

The first arrow found its mark, shooting straight through the neck of one man, and the second, I aimed down and it lodged into his thigh.

The first man gurgled and twitched on the ground before going still.

I glared at his body, then turned to the man I had downed. With a simple movement, flipped my bow up and around and whipped it across his face, knocking him out cold.

I turned to Nicholas, whose eyes were wide with fear.

"Don't move. I'm here to help," I said, the technology in my mask warping my voice. "Where are you injured?"

"Mostly just bruises. Maybe broken ribs."

"Where's your phone?" I asked, pulling a knife from my sleeve and cut the ropes holding him in place, then got them off of his wrists, examining them.

His eyes were squinting, trying to make out my face, and I stood. I looked around the room, then found the old house phone wasn't disconnected. I tossed it to him and he stared at me in stunned silence.

"Call the police. Tell them what happened. That Mr. Walker and Maria Walker are missing. That they weren't here. That they went on vacation last you heard."

"Wh-Who are you?"

"No one you need to worry about, but only if you do exactly as I ask," I snarled. "And if you tell the police I was here or if I spoke to you, you'll end up like that guy." I said, and pointed at the dead man on the ground. He cowered away from me in fear, and I then turned to the unconscious renegade and grabbed him, picking him up under the arms as I began to drag him out.

"Where are you taking him?" Nicholas asked.

"Keep wondering that, because I just saved your life. He's no longer your concern."

I dragged him outside, then without looking up, threw a knife into the camera.

And with that, I disappeared.

******

The man was zip tied to a chair at the hideout, his ankles and wrists secured to the arms and legs of the chair. My arrow was still in his thigh.

He began to slowly wake up, wincing.

I studied his face. "I remember you," I mused. "You were there when I first arrived on Nanda Parbat. Training. So that means you know the League. You know how they interrogate. And you know how they torture."

He glared up at me, dark eyes filled with hatred. "You will get nothing from me."

I glared at him, then smirked, my eyes flashing. "I am the Blood of the Demon. I will get everything from you. And you will wish and beg for death. Now, my first question," I said, and grabbed ahold of the arrow in his thigh and began to twist. "Who is your leader?"

He cried out in pain. "Not.... telling... you..." he grit out.

I twisted the arrow more, his pants ripping, muscle and skin breaking as more blood gushed from the wound. "Hm. You should know there are many major arteries in that thigh of yours. Bleeding out is a horrible, and pathetic way to go. Messy. Inconvenient. I have found a way to make the pain last longer, and to keep you alive longer, too. I have all the time in the world, and trust me, I will find out your next moves tonight. Because you threatened my family, and the brother of the Demon himself, and that is the last thing you'll ever do. Now. Who do you work for?"

I twisted it again, the arrow going in deeper, to the bone, and he began to scream. "Alright! Alright! We don't know his name, just that he also defected from the League. Like us."

"Not helpful," I said blankly. "And would you look at that? This arrow here, is the only thing clogging this gaping hole in your leg. And all I have to do is yank it out and watch."

"You wouldn't," he snarled. "You were always squeamish about killing. Even in the League."

I tilted my head to the side. "Hm. You met me three years ago. A lot has changed since then. I no longer care about the life of someone who wishes harm on the ones I love. Your life means nothing to me. I only care for what is in your head. What you have to choose, right now, is how you want your end to be. Quick? Or slow and agonizing?"

He swallowed hard, glaring at me. I shrugged, pulled out a knife, and held it to the back of his ankle, against his Achilles tendon. "Do you know what happens when I cut this?"

He glared at me, but still persisted on remaining silent.

"Hm, pity," I said, then with a swift movement, sliced his Achilles tendon, and the man began to scream. But I felt nothing but hate for him.

I stood, wiping his blood off of my knife on his suit, then grabbed his jaw harshly and glared into his eyes, snarling, "You targeted my father. You targeted me. You are not leaving this basement alive. That is a guarantee. You'll gain nothing from staying silent. Your next form of torture will be me visiting that little farm in Japan... where two people you care about live."

"L-Leave my wife and ch-child out of this," he gasped, stumbling through his words against the pain.

"You didn't give that courtesy to my father. Or to my neighbor. Why should I give it to you?"

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything."

"Hm. I am afraid I don't believe that. This is your home, is it not?" I asked, and pulled my phone from my pocket, the surveillance pulled up, and turned my phone to him so he could see a video of a house, a small child outside playing with a doll, her black hair in pigtails.

His eyes widened. "This... this isn't real."

"Oh, I assure you it is very real," I snarled. "I have someone there right now. I am the Demon's Second. I do not ask more than once. You will answer my question, or that child gets taken."

"No! No, please. Listen to me," he began to sob pathetically and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "I'll tell you everything. But please. Leave my child alone."

I tilted my head to the side. "I don't like hurting children, you know. I don't like using them as bait. Maybe she'd like to have her father's head delivered in a wrapped box for her birthday?"

He began to shake and sob harder. "Leave her alone! Please!"

"We all have at least one person in our lives we love more than anything. That we'd do anything for in order to make sure they are safe from harm. This is why I ask you the questions I do. Because you renegades not only bring disgrace to the League by leaving them, but you also have committed crimes against the Demon and his own family. You will be killed for your crimes. Your daughter will never see you again. That is a guarantee. But... you can choose to be truthful and she will hear you died a hero, or you can lie, and then she will see you again... but only parts of you. Not really you. A finger. A hand. Your head. Which do you prefer?"

He glared up at me in hatred, then said, "You'll find the one giving us our directions here in Starling City. An archer dressed in black and wearing a hood like yours. He hates you. He wants to do something here in this City, to punish it and the people within it. He is the Magician."

The floor seemed to tilt underneath me for a moment, but I regained my composure. I met his eyes. "Very well. I believe you."

"Do you?" He asked, his eyebrows drawing together in disbelief.

I smirked. "The Magician you speak of, well, he's why I returned to Starling City. You just made my job a whole lot easier. I bid you adieu."

With one, swift and final movement, I drew my sword and removed his head.

It landed on the tarp lining the floor of the abandoned building and I swallowed hard. Letting out a breath I had been holding in for what felt like hours. My eyes stung with tears. My hands shook, but I closed my eyes, regaining my composure.

I sent a message to the man at the house to leave after informing the wife he had died protecting his country, and once I received confirmation, I gathered the man's remains to bury him where no one would find him.

I was a shadow. I was never here, and I would never be found. As for Oliver... he had left a long time ago, telling me on the comms he needed to leave. I didn't blame him. The evil I had to be wasn't suited to anyone.

******

I arrived at the safe house where my father was, and knocked three times on the door. Our secret code so he'd know it was me.

It was late at night, still, and I figured he'd be asleep, so I used my spare key, slipping it into the lock, then opening the door and stepping inside.

I closed the door behind me and the security system locked back into place.

"Dad?" I called. No answer, not even a rustle of movement.

I frowned, then turned on the kitchen light to find a horrible sight.

The house was trashed and destroyed like my own home was, the only difference was the amount of blood, a lack of bodies, and a single black arrow with a piece of paper stuck to it. Addressed to me.

Hands shaking and eyes filling with tears, I took a step towards the paper and ripped it free from the arrow. In Arabic, the note read,

Maria Walker,
If you wish your father to remain alive, you will stop your mission. You will only find pieces of him. You will never see him again.

The letter was signed with a bloody handprint, and I glared at the paper.

I then turned on my heel and left the house, disappearing into the night.