If he had been prepared to die before, at the hands of dozens upon dozens of angry Kandorians, he wasn’t feeling that same rush of bravery now. There was no pumping of adrenaline through his veins, providing him with whatever courage he needed to face down death. His heart wasn’t pounding wildly, beating boldly within the confinement of his ribcage. He could feel it thudding weakly and his hand twitched on the floor, moving for the first time since he fell. There was red blood on that hand and underneath his fingernails from where he had grasped at the wound earlier, disbelieving and knowing at the same time.
Oliver opened his eyes long enough to look at them.
He saw, through the ache in his chest and the sharp pain that came from inhaling and exhaling, that he was not alone. Chloe’s presence assured him, somewhat lessened the discomfort. He locked his eyes on Virgil and took note of the blood that was his own. Richie, Oliver didn’t recognize but he could guess at who he was and have no problem with him being nearby.
Spending most of his energy on breathing seemed like the best thing to do. Virgil was right. He was too stubborn to die.