Only Sand

     Oliver jolted awake. As he sat up, pain in his side forced his eyes shut. Echoes of voices and gunfire sounded off in his mind. He slowly opened his eyes again.
     He was in a large tent. It was dark, but there were holes in the fabric roof, letting blindingly-bright patches of light inside. The air was thick with moisture and the smell of salt. Oliver looked down at himself. His clothes were damp, dirty, ripped, and covered in sand. He was lying on a small, tattered mattress—probably from a ship's bunk. He rolled onto the ground, forcing himself to ignore the pain and stand. There was no floor, only sand. His shoes were gone.
     Oliver slowly stepped outside the tent. He was on a pale beach. The ocean lay on his right; ragged-looking palm trees lined the shore on his left. At his feet he saw a broken plank of wood. He let himself fall to his knees as he suddenly remembered yesterday.

     Gently whispering breeze. The scent of saltwater. Endless ocean waves tinted orange by the sunset. Oliver Queen stood on the deck of his family's yacht, leaned over the railing, and sighed with a smile. This is so much better than Metropolis, he thought. No school, no drama with friends, no getting taken hostage, nothing but standing barefoot on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

     "Having fun doing nothing?" a voice said from behind.

     Oliver turned to see his father, Robert Queen.

     "Absolutely," Oliver said. "Nothing is the best kind of fun to have."

     "Well, maybe when you feel like doing something, you can give this a go."

     Robert handed Oliver a long box. Oliver took it and opened it. Inside was an archer's bow—a simple recurve bow, made of yew.
     "Your mom and I picked that up for you while we were in Japan," Robert said.

     Oliver frowned and handed the box back to his father. "No thanks."

     "Oliver..."

     "I already told you I don't want to do archery anymore."

     "But Ollie, you're already at pro level. In another year or two you could be in the olympics."

     "But I don't want to. I spent every other weeknight practicing since I was ten, and for what? My lucrative archery career?"

     "Forget money, you've got real talent. Besides, what else are you planning on doing?"
     Oliver turned back to the ocean.

     "Hopefully nothing, for as long as possible."
     Robert stared at Oliver for a long moment, then turned and walked away.
     Oliver felt a slight pang of guilt. Should I go say I'm sorry?

     "Well, our son wants to do 'nothing' with his life," Robert said as he walked into the bedroom.
     Laura Queen looked up from her book.
     "Well of course he does. He's seventeen and he's spent the last two weeks on a private yacht without a care in the world. Why would he even be considering taking responsibility for anything?"
     Robert tossed the box onto the bed as he sat down.
     "I don't know what to do about him. You and I had to work for what we have; we built our company ourselves. The way things are going, Oliver's gonna end up a lazy, rich snob who's never worked a day in his life. What are we supposed to do? Cut him off? Make him make his own way?"
     "Do you think that's best?"
     Robert looked at Laura. He hadn't really meant it, but...
     "...Maybe. I'm scared for him."
     Oliver stood in the hallway outside, just out of view of his parents. Their words hit him like an anchor. Slightly stunned, he turned around and walked into his room, shutting the door behind him.
     They want to cut me off? He thought. Am I really that... bad?

     A rapid clacking noise echoed from above deck.
     "What was that?" Laura said.
     "I don't know," Robert said, "it almost sounded like a machine gun."
     Laura sighed. "We're alone in the middle of the South Pacific; I don't think anyone's shooting at us."
     Robert was excitedly peering out the window, looking in both directions.
     "Honestly," Laura said, "sometimes I actually think you'd like to get shot at."
     "It might be cool."
     "Robert!"
     "If we survived and everything."
     "No more James Bond marathons for you."
     Robert gave her his best sarcastic pleading face. "But Ollie and I are almost through the Timothy Dalton era!"
     "Who?"
     Robert shook his head and turned back to the window. "Nevermind. You don't understand."
     Laura didn't reply, but there was a sudden loud crack from where she was standing.

Dangerous Discoveries

     Alfred looked up from dusting the couch to see the penthouse elevator doors slide open. Bruce stepped out, frowning for no apparent reason and staring at nothing.
     "If you don't mind me saying, sir, you look like I did on the day I found out I'd been selected for military duty. Surely the school day wasn't that dreadful."
     Bruce rubbed his forehead. "School is idiotic, but no."
     Alfred looked at Bruce expectantly.
     "Alfred," Bruce began, "I'd tell you, but it's better if you don't know. It's probably dangerous."
     Alfred stiffened. "You forget, sir, that my job these past eighteen years has not been merely to serve you, but to protect you as well."
     "You're not my legal guardian anymore. I'm an adult."
     "A single birthday doesn't make me obsolete, Master Bruce. Whatever danger you may be dealing with is for the both of us to face, so long as I live on this planet."
     Bruce was a bit surprised and slightly amused. "Have you been pretending to be soft on me this entire time?"
     "Well, seeing as you're an adult now, I wager you can handle me being straight with you."

     Bruce explained the situation: the financial nonsense with Excelsior and the weirdness going on with Morgan.
     Alfred thought quietly for a moment. "If Morgan did kill his parents..."
     "Actually, I think he only killed his father. His mom I'm not sure about. Maybe that was the trigger that pushed him over the..."
     Bruce sighed.
     "Over the edge?"
     "Yeah."
     "Accidental puns happen to the best of us, Master Bruce."

     "Is there any way you can further investigate what's being done at the Edges' tower?"
     "Not unless I want to break in, and I'm not sure I want to risk that. I had to be careful enough in the elevator not to look too interested..."
     Sudden realization hit Bruce. "Lucy."
     "Is she in danger?"
     Bruce's head sunk into his hands. "She could be. She saw everything I did and didn't try to hide it."
     "The Lanes have been through more than enough. We need to ensure their safety."
     "We can hire personal security for them; maybe tip off the authorities that someone might be after Lucy."
     "I'll handle that. What do you plan to do about Morgan?"
     "It looks like we'll have to play the long game. I'll stay in Metropolis; keep close eyes on him and wait until he slips up and does something obvious."
     "In the meantime, you also should keep up your unaware persona. Go to school—if you're still required there—spend time with friends..."
     "I don't have any friends here anymore, Alfred. Clark and Diana live in Smallville, Zatanna's busy touring, and Bart's not even in this century anymore."
     "You must have some old acquaintances from Excelsior."
     "I only really hung out with Oliver. I guess I could see what he's up to."
     Alfred's face told Bruce he'd stepped on a subject land mine, like bringing up a recently-dead relative.
     "What?"
     "Sir... I thought you knew. The Queen family was lost at sea several months ago. The wreckage of the ship was discovered. Not all the bodies were recovered, but... Oliver is most certainly dead."

     Rapid bursts of gunfire echoed over burning fields. Soldiers screamed commands in Chinese at the top of their lungs. Workers ran from the fire, but were gunned down before they could escape. A cough was heard from the crops; a soldier sprinted for the sound. A woman got up and ran from her hiding place in the unburned corner of field; the soldier raised his gun and fired. The woman tripped and fell to the ground before the first bullet could hit; she crawled forward, hoping she could hide again. The soldier kicked her once before rolling her over and shoving his gun in her face.
     "YOU RUN, YOU ONLY DIE SLOWER," he said in rough Mandarin. He pulled the trigger, shots exploded from the gun, but none of them hit their target. The soldier's corpse hit the ground, a large arrow protruding from his skull.
     200 yards away, a man lowered his bow. Rain-soaked, covered in torn clothes, scarred, and bloody, he stood tall against the light of the moon, silently daring the soldiers to ignore the civilians and come for him instead. The soldiers obliged.
     Oliver Queen raised his bow.