14 My Name….

Two men dressed in black trudged through a dense, rocky jungle, one in the lead, and one in the back. Other than the repeated stomp of their boots, the only things to be heard were the morning stretches and groans of the forest. Out of nowhere, one of them, the one with the gun aimed at his counterpart, broke the silence with a question.

"How do you do what you do? Kill and torture people I mean."

"..."

Bill Wintergreen, the man in the gun's crosshairs, kept his pace and silence, much to the chagrin of his captor. Nevertheless, it seemed his life still had purpose as his captor ignored the rude behavior and kept talking.

"Since you were a secret agent, I'd say you were a patriot. Anyone you killed or tortured was for your country. However, your motivations must've changed once you joined Fyers. I know you did it for money, but that's just surface level stuff.

What I want to know is what went through your mind when you tortured me. What did you tell yourself, knowing damn well Fyers planned to blow up a plane full of innocent people?"

"..."

David's voice didn't waver and remained calm throughout his tirade, a stark contrast to the rage repressed by [Killer Instinct]. His current expression-or lack thereof- would elicit wails from infants. The silence and lack of engagement from Wintergreen piled on to his hatred for the man. So much so that he wanted to kill him then and there.

But, he needed him to lead the way to Slade's hideout hence he refrained from doling out the deserved punishment. Since the piece of shit refused to talk, he would listen..

"If you won't talk, you will listen…" David huffed. "Let me tell you what went through my head when I decapitated your friends and opened your boss like a tuna can."

All of a sudden, David noticed the violet aura hugging Wintergreen's tall frame ripple and darken a bit. Through his constant and directed use of [Enhanced Synesthesia], he knew this aura represented the man's emotional state.

He was angry at the situation, yet his training as an operative gave him calm, giving rise to violet, a color David intuited as frustration. Now though, the violet had gone darker, indicating an extra injection of red. His anger was overtaking his calm. Good.

Seeing the tangible effect of his words, David didn't relent and pressed on.

"The first few times I killed your people, I told myself it was for survival. But in truth, it was revenge. I wanted off the island, but I couldn't leave before seeing you and Fyers pay for what you did. So I hatched a plan. Fyers definitely had a phone and that was my way out. To get to him though, I had to go through his men… and you."

David then paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, and continued. "Whenever I cut one of your friends down, it felt great, awesome even. It was that happiness you felt after passing a test you knew would get you a new laptop. Soon, it was no longer about survival. It became about something else. I couldn't understand it at first, but eventually I did…"

Wintergreen stony countenance had long cracked, and the darkening of his aura had sped up. It was now pockmarked with splotches of gray and black, confusion and fear. Great.

"Do you know how annoying it is to enjoy something you really don't want to enjoy? Something you know will get labeled as an insane person? ... Anyways, I didn't understand why killing you guys felt so good… until I put a bullet in your boss."

The aura around the former ASIS agent now matched his clothes: a deep dark purple with a hint of black. Fear had overtaken the confusion and rage.

Awesome.

"I realized that, in some way, killing you guys fulfilled my heroic fantasies. Every time people like you get away scot-free with no punishment whatsoever for ruining and ending so many lives, it made me so angry I thought I'd burn up.

Back then I was weak and inconsequential. I could only watch on as such injustices occurred. However, things are different now. There are things I can do about it, and I'll be damned if I don't.

Every Fyers and their minions out there will soon get their due. Lord knows the world has too many of them. They have enjoyed their freedom for way too long. Now, they'll have something to fear ...."

A laugh tinged with malevolence escaped David's lips. As if to escape the evil behind him, Wintergreen sped up his pace, his pitch black aura a clear indication of the mortal dread he felt. This dread came from the realization that he was going to die painfully, and by the hands of a monster he created no less.

…..

Suffice to say, after David's monologue, the journey to Slade's hideout became longer just because of the awkwardness. On one end, you had a hard headed mercenary rethinking his life choices and thinking of ways to get away from his younger captor who on the other end, became more assured of his life's calling.

All in all, it was a horrid development for some, and a funny one for others.

But, no matter how long, every journey comes to an end. David, who's eyes possessed better clarity and range, noticed the ruins of the aircraft before Wintergreen and ordered him to stop. Walking past his captive, he activated [Eagle Pulse], making it encapsulate the surroundings and the downed craft in less than a second.

A gold shaped man lay asleep in the glowing white ruins, something that elicited a series of nods from David. He turned around to look at Wintergreen, who still stood there, waiting for god knows what.

"You're still here?" he asked with a chuckle. Giving the man a long look, he approached, laughing as he did so. "I knew you weren't dumb," he said and exchanged the gun for a knife to cut the zip ties binding the captive's wrists. Right after the cut, he bent his upper body back and dodged a fist, laughing even louder.

"Like I said, I know you aren't dumb."

As the last survivor of the Lian Yu operation rubbed his wrists, the reason behind that assumed a boxer's stance and said, "Let's fight. I want to see those ASIS skills up close." Wintergreen's expression soured, a reaction you would not find on a drowning person who had received a lifeline.

Even though his skills in combat placed him above most men, the former ASIS agent knew those skills would not matter in the upcoming fight. In their first clash (if it could even be called that), he got knocked out in less than a second. He had no dreams that he'd fare better now.

Nevertheless, he prepared himself for what came next. Running? Not an option. Begging? He would never beg another man. The only option was to fight. Hence, he placed all his senses on high alert and paced at the edges of the makeshift arena, maintaining the distance between himself and his opponent.

In this manner, he and David formed an invisible circle as they moved around each other, watching each other like hawks, he with his defense up and the latter, waiting for the right moment to strike.

David may have killed, but he'd never engaged in fisticuffs…at least, not with someone like Wintergreen, who could see every hole in his defense.

For David, he only focused so intently to catch the mercenary's movements and compare them to his own. He wanted to see where he stood skill-wise, that's why in the end, his impatience won, and he, the younger and less experienced killer, broke the stalemate and attacked.

Using speed in the limits of humanity, he ducked and weaved towards Wintergreen, who raised his arms to put up a guard. However, he would soon realize the pointlessness of that endeavor as David didn't want to give him such an easy death.

In addition to observing Wintergreen's skills up close, David wanted to give him a beat down that would bring him close to the line of death, not over it. He wanted him to suffer and die slowly, not just at once. That's why his first blow used just a quarter of his strength and speed, and went towards the man's gut.

BAM!

Wintergreen failed to intercept the blow as it went past his defense and sunk into his gut so quickly. When it landed, said defense crumbled like a sandcastle attacked by an angry child. His legs buckled and his knees folded, dropping him onto the ground in a wheezing and spasming heap.

His whole body shook, and his organs felt like someone had given them a strong squeeze. Both men were stumped. Each of them had made severe underestimations and miscalculations regarding this fight: Wintergreen regarding his captor's intentions and David regarding his own strength.

As for Wintergreen, he knew David could kill him right away if he wanted. But since he hadn't done so, it meant the latter wanted to torture him and satisfy his need for vengeance. That's why he put up a guard and braced himself for whatever came next.

Who knew just a quarter of David's strength would prove too much for someone of his caliber. David on the other hand, stared at his clenched fist in annoyance. 'Is he that weak? No that's not it. I'm just too strong,' he thought with a chuckle. 'Never thought I'd say something like that.'

Reducing his strength even further, he pushed Wintergreen's kneeling form with his foot and said, "Get up."

His eyes spitting venom and a host of other things, the mercenary clutched his stomach and stood up. Once stable on his feet, David gestured at him to put up a guard. He obeyed with visible difficulty, but his pain went unseen as he blocked a punch right after.

Feeling the arm sting and his anger rise, he threw one in return. Like he expected since the beginning, David dodged it with ease and retaliated, finding his mark once again. No matter how Wintergreen tried, he couldn't mimic his opponent's evasion and attack prowess. David's punches were much slower now, but he still couldn't dodge them, not completely at least.

The ones he blocked not only hurt like a bitch, they pushed him back. And the ones he failed to dodge grazed him and left painful cuts and welts. All in all, although it looked like they were exchanging blows in a heated fight, the reality was anything but.

And so, the first-no, second-round of today's fisticuffs continued. David's movements grew more fluid with each strike, while Wintergreen's did the opposite. After blocking about a dozen punches and kicks, the mercenary's arms grew numb and he failed to raise them in time for David's umpteenth right hook.

Having grown comfortable with his barest minimum strength, David had discarded his rule of no headshots and had thrown dozens of blows at Wintergreen's head. The latter failed to block the latest one and had his head whipped to the side. As though someone had pushed his off button, his eyes closed shut and his arms fell as he keeled over like a domino.

"Tch, weak…" David remarked in annoyance and pulled out a bottle of water. He dumped it's contents on the unconscious man, waking him in a coughing and sputtering mess. As Wintergreen's faculties and memories slowly returned to him, he heard two words that filled him with cold dread.

"Get up."

...

Whistling to the imaginary tune of The Weeknd's Often, David had one hand in his pocket and the other around Wintergreen's foot as he dragged the unconscious man in his stride towards the crashed plane. 'Does this guy have a song that's not about women or sex?' he wondered. 'Wait. Does he even exist here? I need to check that. I need to check a lot of things.'

Shaking off the useless thoughts, he made his way to the plane and knocked on the hull once he arrived. Getting no answer like he expected, he lifted Wintergreen and tossed him in like a suitcase, waltzing in himself afterwards. He gave the enclosure a brief scan, taking in the sights and scents before moving his gaze upwards.

"I know you're there."

Through the hole in the ceiling, an individual who shared his stranded circumstances dropped down and leveraged a sword and gun at him. "Who are you?" A deep throaty voice questioned.

Still with his hands in his pockets, David maintained eye contact and answered. "I'm just someone who found a way off this floating hellhole and thought you'd like to know. As for why you should trust me, go on, take a look…" He gestured towards Wintergreen with a nod.

Sheathing his sword and maintaining his aim, the individual bent down and turned the body over, revealing a face marred with bruises and swellings. "Billy…" he uttered in recognition and pressed a finger against his former friend's neck. David, who knew the man would die soon, ignored all that and turned to leave.

"If you make a decision, come find me. I'll be at Fyers' main camp."

Right before he made his exit, the throaty voice reached him again. "What do I call you?"

David paused and almost blurted his old name. Shocked at the near blunder, he mentally berated himself and gave a reply that served more as a wake-up call to himself than a response to a question.

"My name…is Oliver Queen."