My name is Oliver Queen. Call me Ollie. Everyone else does...well not everyone. Some people call me the Green Arrow. It all started three years ago...in another lifetime.
I was due to meet a man named Hackett; and employer of some woman named "China White" (or something like that) I was told she was some real classy girl. She was a billionaire running all sorts of philanthropist ideals. Being a millionaire myself, I was inclined to meet with the guy.
The two of us met in a diner, real fancy place. Red wine, a violin orchestra, the kind of place rich people go to. He walked in expecting a respectable businessman...boy was he wrong.
"Waiter, I'm looking for Oliver--"
"HEEEYYYY BUDDDYYYY!" My words slurred together as I wobbled back and forth on my knees, trying to stand. When I first met Hackett I was drunk as a sailor.
We sat down for a little chat, and the whole time I had to keep filling my glass with champagne. He told me to get my act together, and I gaped in shock. I had no idea what he was talking about at the time. I thought the booze, women and, well booze were all fine. He told me otherwise.
"Listen, Oliver--"
"Please," I said in a flirtatious tone only a drunk man could have, I leaned closer and whispered, "call me Ollie." I let out a hiccup and a giggle.
"Ollie," he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "Chien Na Wiet is employing some of the richest men, and inviting them all to her own private island so they can see what they'll be investing in. We want you to back up--"
"I always loved islands," I said, not listening to word he was saying. "Always wanted to go to one, myself."
"Listen," he cleared his throat, "Ollie, if you do this, you need to pull yourself together. I know all about you. Your parents died when you were little and you didn't grow up because you never had to...you spend your time drinking beer and chasing women, this is a respectable business...so if you go, we don't want you messing it up. You're a millionaire playboy with no regard for human--"
"Flattery will get you nowhere," I told him. "Tell China White my answer is yes...I'll clean up my act...that's a promise.
I boarded the plane a few days later with a survival kit (we were going into the wild, I was told to pack what I thought was necessary.) as well as a bow and arrows. I always loved hunting when I was a kid. the blade, the sound of the arrow whizzing through the air, the "thunk" of it landing on target. Anyway, I boarded the plane, and mostly hung around the bar in the plane, getting stupid drunk. It was a few hours into the flight that I spied it.
"Hackett?"
"Yes...?" He asked, somewhat apprehensively.
"Why do you have a gun with you?"
"For your protection."
I never bought it, but I bided my time, and dug through bottles of wine, until I saw more proof. In the bottom of a barrel.
"Grenades, guns, flamethrowers...I gotta get out of there." I whispered.
I charged at Hackett, slamming his face into the controls.
"IDIOT!"
"I saw the weapons!"
"No use then," he muttered. With animal fury, he grabbed me and slammed my head into the reinforced glass. "Royal Marines teach you a thing or two." he grunted. My head felt like someone had chopped it in half with a hatchet. It burned, the aching pain seemed unending. The massive pressure on my skull, worse than a migraine. I finally dragged Hackett out of the cockpit, and we fought. By God we fought. I grab the bow and arrows I brought and hit him with them, knocking him out. I looked out the window to see the ground getting bigger.
"Oh shi--"
The crash was amazing. I was tossed around the wreckage like a ragdoll. I found myself alone on a deserted island, only managing to salvage the bow and arrows before the plane went up in flames. I thought Hackett was surely dead, so I didn't look for a body...all that was left
was to survive.
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