Who: Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan What: Bad choices can lead to terrible consequences. Fortunately for Ollie he has an eye in the sky. Where: Queen Industries. When: Early Tuesday morning, around 3 a.m. Warnings: Adult situations, content, possible language.
The call had come in just after two in the morning. He hadn't been asleep. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept, really. After the nightmares had started, he'd stopped attempting any regular form of rest. Instead, he was popping pills to stay conscious and when the pills started to wear off, he took more. He discovered that taking the pills and chasing them down with whiskey was a rather effective method of killing the pain from his broken ribs, as well as dulling the guilt that he was carrying around. Not completely, of course, but enough that it was more of a vague sense of unease than sharp, intense pain like it was when he wasn't drinking or popping the pills.
It also had the nice effect of dulling his thought process in general. Which was good when you were trying everything in your power not to think about the terrible things you'd done. He had just finished off another glass of whiskey when his cell phone rang. Normally these days he just ignored it when he got a call. There really wasn't anyone that he wanted to talk to. Maybe Lois, now that she was back. But the thought of talking to anyone else from his old life was like an antidote to the side effects of the drugs and alcohol. He was actually relieved when he realized it was one of the numbers from Queen Industries. He wasn't sure why anyone would be trying to reach him from there at two fifteen in the morning, but he reluctantly answered it anyway.
"What?" he greeted the other person on the line, voice gruff.
"Mr. Queen. Glad you bothered picking up your phone for a change." The voice was distorted and he rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for lame practical jokes.
"Yes, and apparently it was a waste of my time."
"Only if you think that preventing a bomb from going off and killing your employees a waste of time, I suppose. Although you're selfish enough that it wouldn't surprise me if you really didn't care."
He paused at that, checking the number again, and affirming that yes, it was indeed a call from the office downtown. "Who is this?"
"Ah-ah-ah. That's not how this game is played, Mr. Queen. I'm afraid the only way you're not going to wake up to the news about half your company literally dying in an explosion is if you get off your pathetic, worthless ass and come down here right now."
He tried to make sense of what was going on, but for the life of him he couldn't think of any reason why someone would want to blow up his company. Unless...
He held his breath for a moment. Unless that person was looking for revenge. Say for stealing his company and then blowing him up with a bomb. He shut his eyes, feeling himself already beginning to sober up. "I'm on my way."
"Good. I'm sure your employees will be eternally thankful." The line went dead.
Oliver swallowed hard, setting his drink down and rising to his feet. He wasn't sober enough to drive, and considering he didn't really want anyone else's blood on his hands, he simply grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He ran the whole way to the office, arriving in under ten minutes. That was good timing, even for him. Not that he was as in shape as he used to be. He had no real reason to be these days.
He slid his passcard against the front door, looking around at the night staff, who all looked startled to see him there so early. Or so late, depending upon the perspective.
"Get everyone out," he ordered the receptionist at the desk. "Get everyone out now."
"Mr. Queen?" There was worry on her face, and she rose to her feet.
"There's a bomb," he told her, his heart beating hard against his chest. "There's a bomb in the building."