Eddie Brock
Golden Domer
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2006
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I roll out of bed, squinting in the enveloping darkness of my bedroom. It must be the middle of the night. I rarely sleep through the night anymore. Truth be told, I don't sleep much at all. I don't know if it's because I've altered my body's natural rhythms with all these late night patrols, or because I put myself through so much stress, or because I have too much adrenaline or testosterone or something. It hasn't really affected my ability to function, so I tend not to question it. After all, the time wasted on sleeping is time I could be spending training, preparing, or getting work done.
Groggily, I lumber across the expanse of blackness which leads from my bed to the bathroom. Once inside, I flip on the light and instantly regret it. A moment later, when my pupils have constricted and I can see once more, I look at myself in the mirror. I look a lot older than I really am. Being the Green Arrow has aged my face quite a bit. And my shirtless body exposes a number of bruises, scrapes, and scars. Each tells a story of the time Green Arrow was outnumbered or too slow or sloppy. For the most part, though, my physique has been protected against serious injuries. I suppose I have that to be thankful for.
Moments later, I hear shuffling footsteps approaching through the darkness. I give half a smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I apologize.
Adrien Rivers steps into the bathroom, rubbing her eyes and wearing nothing but lacy underwear and one of my button-down shirts. She looks up at me and gives me a tired smirk.
"I, uh... I hope that wasn't weird." She saunters past me, reaching out to run her fingertips across my back. It sends chills up my spine. It's been too long since I was with a woman. "What with me being your boss... and everything."
Adrien almost laughs before realizing she's still too tired for it. "I think I'll live."
I turn around and lean against the sink. My palms rest against the marble countertop. "Listen. Not that it wasn't great," I begin awkwardly, "but I really don't want to make things... uncomfortable between us."
This time, Adrien does laugh. "You don't have to say it, Ollie," she interrupts me. She looks at herself in the mirror, adjusting a few unruly strands of hair. "I knew your reputation when I took the job. Part of me always knew this would happen eventually." She turns and smirks at me. "I guess I'm glad we got it out of the way early."
I laugh. I'm glad she's able to be so relaxed about this whole... situation. "Well, I hope this won't negatively affect our professional relationship," I remark. "You've actually been a big help. I'd hate to have to fire you."
"That won't be necessary," she assures me. As she passes me again, she gives me a soft pat on the chest. "I'll let myself out in the morning. You won't even know I was here." After she disappears into the dark bedroom, I hear her call out, "Will that be all, Mr. Queen?"
* * *
To be honest, I've spent less time in my office at Queen Industries than I probably should have. When I'm not running around the rooftops of Star City, I usually take time to relax and be away from work. However, on this morning, I decided to drop in to do some research on Hackett, China White's financier.
His full name is Charles Thomas Hackett and, as Fyers told me, he's a British ex-national. He even served in the Royal Air Force for a time. Upon coming to the States, he established himself as a successful venture capitalist. Once he built a small fortune, he started making a name for himself as a philanthropist. He liaises through a number of nonprofits, charities, and trust funds. Someone moving that much money around would have no trouble covering the business expenses and profits of a criminal organization. Seems like China White and the Triads are Hackett's newest, most successful upstart.
Lucky for me, since Hackett bases himself in Star City, there are no shortage of opportunities for he and Ollie Queen to make an acquaintance. He's holding a gala next weekend to raise money for underprivileged children in the Pacific islands. Shouldn't be hard for Star City's wealthiest son to swing an invite. I leave Adrien a message telling her to get in touch with Hackett's people to make it happen. True to her word, I didn't see her this morning, but she did leave me coffee.
"Knock knock?"
I don't even bother to try hiding it when I roll my eyes.
"Oliver Queen making a rare guest appearance at the company he owns. Did you need GPS to find us here?"
"Connor Hawke." I try to remain civil and let the venom slip out of my voice. It's hard to do when you're facing the man who framed you, tried to steal your company from you, and ultimately hired an assassin to kill you in the middle of the night. But, hey, that's corporate America. "I thought I felt all the warmth leave the room."
Hawke smiles. "You always did have a sharp tongue, Ollie. I'll give you that." Inviting himself in, he steps into my office and approaches my desk. He picks up the nearest paper and pretends to take a look at it. "So I noticed you hired yourself an assistant? That's really the way to go. And such a pretty one, too."
I grit my teeth. "What can I say? She was the most qualified for the position."
"Are we talking resume or measurements?" He meets my gaze. I can see the contempt in his eyes, just as I know he can see it in mine. Yet we maintain appearances for this social chess game of ours. "So, is she in charge of your schedule?"
I respond with cold silence.
"I'm just wondering what she pencils in at night, when you're out... working your other job."
His implication stuns me, though not nearly as much as what comes next. Hawke reaches into his jacket and pulls out an arrowhead. I recognize it because it's mine. There's even a bit of broken shaft attached to it - enough to show a touch of green. And on the tip? Dried blood. As soon as I see it, I know whose blood it is. Onomatopoeia.
"Remember the day you were released from prison?" Hawke asks. All playfulness has dropped out of his tone. He twirls the arrowhead between his fingers. "You burst into the boardroom and announced your triumphant return. Then, you pulled me aside and told me that you knew everything." He tosses the arrowhead onto my desk.
"Well, Ollie, now I know everything, too."
Groggily, I lumber across the expanse of blackness which leads from my bed to the bathroom. Once inside, I flip on the light and instantly regret it. A moment later, when my pupils have constricted and I can see once more, I look at myself in the mirror. I look a lot older than I really am. Being the Green Arrow has aged my face quite a bit. And my shirtless body exposes a number of bruises, scrapes, and scars. Each tells a story of the time Green Arrow was outnumbered or too slow or sloppy. For the most part, though, my physique has been protected against serious injuries. I suppose I have that to be thankful for.
Moments later, I hear shuffling footsteps approaching through the darkness. I give half a smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I apologize.
Adrien Rivers steps into the bathroom, rubbing her eyes and wearing nothing but lacy underwear and one of my button-down shirts. She looks up at me and gives me a tired smirk.
"I, uh... I hope that wasn't weird." She saunters past me, reaching out to run her fingertips across my back. It sends chills up my spine. It's been too long since I was with a woman. "What with me being your boss... and everything."
Adrien almost laughs before realizing she's still too tired for it. "I think I'll live."
I turn around and lean against the sink. My palms rest against the marble countertop. "Listen. Not that it wasn't great," I begin awkwardly, "but I really don't want to make things... uncomfortable between us."
This time, Adrien does laugh. "You don't have to say it, Ollie," she interrupts me. She looks at herself in the mirror, adjusting a few unruly strands of hair. "I knew your reputation when I took the job. Part of me always knew this would happen eventually." She turns and smirks at me. "I guess I'm glad we got it out of the way early."
I laugh. I'm glad she's able to be so relaxed about this whole... situation. "Well, I hope this won't negatively affect our professional relationship," I remark. "You've actually been a big help. I'd hate to have to fire you."
"That won't be necessary," she assures me. As she passes me again, she gives me a soft pat on the chest. "I'll let myself out in the morning. You won't even know I was here." After she disappears into the dark bedroom, I hear her call out, "Will that be all, Mr. Queen?"
* * *
To be honest, I've spent less time in my office at Queen Industries than I probably should have. When I'm not running around the rooftops of Star City, I usually take time to relax and be away from work. However, on this morning, I decided to drop in to do some research on Hackett, China White's financier.
His full name is Charles Thomas Hackett and, as Fyers told me, he's a British ex-national. He even served in the Royal Air Force for a time. Upon coming to the States, he established himself as a successful venture capitalist. Once he built a small fortune, he started making a name for himself as a philanthropist. He liaises through a number of nonprofits, charities, and trust funds. Someone moving that much money around would have no trouble covering the business expenses and profits of a criminal organization. Seems like China White and the Triads are Hackett's newest, most successful upstart.
Lucky for me, since Hackett bases himself in Star City, there are no shortage of opportunities for he and Ollie Queen to make an acquaintance. He's holding a gala next weekend to raise money for underprivileged children in the Pacific islands. Shouldn't be hard for Star City's wealthiest son to swing an invite. I leave Adrien a message telling her to get in touch with Hackett's people to make it happen. True to her word, I didn't see her this morning, but she did leave me coffee.
"Knock knock?"
I don't even bother to try hiding it when I roll my eyes.
"Oliver Queen making a rare guest appearance at the company he owns. Did you need GPS to find us here?"
"Connor Hawke." I try to remain civil and let the venom slip out of my voice. It's hard to do when you're facing the man who framed you, tried to steal your company from you, and ultimately hired an assassin to kill you in the middle of the night. But, hey, that's corporate America. "I thought I felt all the warmth leave the room."
Hawke smiles. "You always did have a sharp tongue, Ollie. I'll give you that." Inviting himself in, he steps into my office and approaches my desk. He picks up the nearest paper and pretends to take a look at it. "So I noticed you hired yourself an assistant? That's really the way to go. And such a pretty one, too."
I grit my teeth. "What can I say? She was the most qualified for the position."
"Are we talking resume or measurements?" He meets my gaze. I can see the contempt in his eyes, just as I know he can see it in mine. Yet we maintain appearances for this social chess game of ours. "So, is she in charge of your schedule?"
I respond with cold silence.
"I'm just wondering what she pencils in at night, when you're out... working your other job."
His implication stuns me, though not nearly as much as what comes next. Hawke reaches into his jacket and pulls out an arrowhead. I recognize it because it's mine. There's even a bit of broken shaft attached to it - enough to show a touch of green. And on the tip? Dried blood. As soon as I see it, I know whose blood it is. Onomatopoeia.
"Remember the day you were released from prison?" Hawke asks. All playfulness has dropped out of his tone. He twirls the arrowhead between his fingers. "You burst into the boardroom and announced your triumphant return. Then, you pulled me aside and told me that you knew everything." He tosses the arrowhead onto my desk.
"Well, Ollie, now I know everything, too."