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Author's Note: Two chapters again, a bit longer than the others. This origin story is starting to dwindle to the end, there will be at least one more post after this. I'd like to thank djkauf for the fantastic editing. Green Arrow is a copyright and trademark of DC Comics.

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Chapter Nine:

We both sat in his limousine in silence, neither of saying a word. He was sitting across from me, sipping another cup of tea. He liked his tea; it was at least his third cup since leaving the diner. Me, all I could do was sit and glare. Jameson Queen the Third was a man used to getting what he wanted. Me, I used to be a man who took what he was given and gave nothing to anyone. Not that I didn’t want to give but there was nothing to hand out. I may have mentioned that my parents were well off but they had peanuts as far as my grandfather was concerned. The last I knew his net worth was close to ten billion, which was absolutely insane.

Also insane was his behavior. He ambushed me in the diner. Now here I was, an hour later, in his limo and on the way to the airport. I tried to protest but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was like that from the moment he sat down and surprised me...

>-------------------------------------------------->

“You look just like your mother,” he said as he took another sip of his tea.

I nodded, numbed by all this.

The man sitting across from me wasn’t numb at all; in fact, he was pretty calm. He was a smooth operator, at least that’s what the tabloids seemed to think. My grandfather was a favorite of theirs. In his youth, he was an equivalent to Hugh Hefner. He used to like to wine and dine the ladies; he threw the wildest of parties and had all the best things money could buy. I think he dwindled down when he met my grandmother and they had my mother. But I could still see that spark hidden in the steely blue eyes of the man sitting across from me.

My grandfather looked good for a man well past his prime. His white hair was slicked back; his skin was nicely tanned and well moisturized. He didn’t look a day over sixty---but that’s what money could buy. In truth, he was pushing eighty, at least. He liked to flaunt his success, made apparent by the foreign suit that was probably worth more money than I’d seen in my lifetime. But he was so nonchalant about it too. He just sat there and sipped his tea, like it was the most common thing in the world to do. Me, I was pissed. This man was never there for me when my parents were alive and now he was quite the force to be reckoned with since their death. I’m not sure how he found me but I’m sure he had his resources.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

I decided I was going to be angry with him several years ago. I crossed my arms and glared, after regaining myself. “Don’t you?”
He smiled. It was a small one but it was there. “I tried to reach out to you, several times, but your mother wouldn’t allow it. You did get my gifts, didn’t you?” I got all of them and had to admit I loved them all too. In fact, I still mourned for my watch.
But I was still mad at him. “I got them.”

He nodded. Then he started with the questioning. I found it kind of strange that he’d be grilling me in a little bus depot diner**** but he didn’t care. Me, I was nervous I’d miss my bus. But I answered his questions to the best of my ability. Most of them were about what happened, so I told him the whole story---minus the whole saving the ship thing. If he was an emotional man, he didn’t show it because he didn’t even tear up when I told him about those bastards stabbing his daughter to death. I got kind of vague when I talked about the ship because I didn’t want him to know about my escapades. If he figured it out he didn’t say.

When I finished he sipped some more tea.

“You’re quite resourceful; I expected nothing less from a Queen”

“I’m an Oliver, not a Queen,” I said heatedly.

He smiled thinly. “Jonas Oliver is dead. You have to except that and move on”

I was furious. I’d only known this man for a few minutes and already he was dictating my life. No wonder my mother didn’t want me to have anything to do with him. It pissed me off that this bastard thought he could tell me things like that. I was Jonas Oliver, it didn’t matter what I looked like now but I was always going to be Jonas Oliver.

“I’m not changing my name,” I snapped.

‘No one is telling you too. But you must understand the circumstance you’re in. The name Oliver is no longer safe for you.”

What the hell did he mean by that? “And the name Queen is?”

The old man sighed; suddenly he looked his age. Whatever false front he was putting up disappeared for a split second. I thought maybe I could get to know that vulnerable guy; he even looked a bit like a grandfather. But all too soon, it was gone and the stone cold bastard was back. We didn’t say anything to each other for a while. He finished his tea and ordered another. I kept looking at the wall clock because it was getting dangerously close to my departure time. The old man watched me with his eyes but his head never moved an inch, it was kind of creepy.

Finally, my time to leave came and boy was I ready to go. I stood up, grabbed my bag and reached into my pocket to take out some money to pay for my meal.
“Sit down” it was both an order and an urging.

“I’m going to miss my bus,” I said, refusing to sit.

“You’re not going on the bus,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I played along. “If not the bus then where am I going?”

“Nowhere at the moment. But as soon as I finish my tea, you and I are going to leave this diner, walk across the street and get in my limo. Then we’re going to the airport and flying back to San Francisco together.”

“And if I refuse?”

He nodded slightly behind him. It was a simple thing but it had such a deeper meaning. It was a summons and two large men materialized out of the shadows, I didn’t even know they were there. But I recognized them immediately: they were the two goons from the motel. They walked over and stood on either side of the old man. They both looked at me, neither said a word but I could tell they were kind of pissed. I’d be too if some dumb kid slit my tires.

I was a bit taken back by them. If they had been my grandfather’s men all along then why hadn’t they said anything?

“These are your goons?”

The old man nodded. “They are indeed. You would have found that out this morning if you hadn’t so rudely slammed the door in their faces”

‘That’s your fault, not mine and you know it. Who the hell sends enforcers to pick up their grandchild?’

The old man didn’t bat an eye. “How was I to know you were in fact my grandson?”

He had me there. I most certainly didn’t look like anyone’s grandson. But it still didn’t mean he had the right to send goons after me. Anyone would have reacted the same way I did, given the circumstance.

“So I take it these two are here to get me into your car?”

The old man smiled. “Precisely”.

His two goons came around the table faster than I could. They grabbed my shoulders and clamped down tightly. I was in no position to fight back. The old man finished his tea, paid for both our meals and then allowed his goons to escort me out of the diner.

>-------------------------------------------------->

I could still feel their grubby hands on my shoulders.

It turns out the two goons, Spencer and Locke, were actually my grandfather’s bodyguard and chauffeur. They didn’t talk much but what they lacked in social skill they more than made up for in roughness. They literally dragged me out of the diner, through the bus depot and out to the waiting limo. I struggled and fought the whole time. The depot security actually came to my aid until my grandfather talked to him. I didn’t hear what he said but the man actually smiled at me and went about his business. I didn’t have good luck with any kind of security.

Now the two goons were in the front, Locke driving, Spencer riding shotgun. My grandfather was just sitting there, sipping his damn tea and finishing his newspaper. I wasn’t on the cover but there was another Metahuman gracing the front papers. Apparently, it was a followup to a story the paper broke on Halloween. The headline was large and in bold, block letters: TERRA HELPS SAVE JAPAN. She was the new one. I’m not sure where they were coming from but it was kind of cool. The paper didn’t say much about her but I read the other story that ran a few days ago. She actually outed herself to the whole world. She told them who she was and what she could do. It took real guts but it was something I’d never do if I had her abilities.

Can you imagine all the reporters bothering the hell out of her? I’d only had a run in with one and she was enough for anyone.

“There’s been a rash of them springing up here and there,” said my grandfather, apparently reading her mind. “A lot of them don’t want to be found and others are biding their time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Metahumans” said the old man, talking through his newspaper.

“And how do you know this?”

He chuckled. “You don’t get to be one of the most powerful men in the world by sipping tea all day.” He laughed which turned into a long coughing fit.

It was a horrible sounding cough, one that a healthy person didn’t have. After a minute or so, it was over, but it was pretty scary.

“There have been a lot that have popped up since Jade announced their kind to the world,” he continued, speaking as if the coughing never happened. “Most are keeping themselves secret but there are others just waiting to be explored.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. The Metahumans were so cool but I’m not sure if I’d want to be one. There was just something about all that power that seemed to bother me. I’m sure there were a lot of good people out, people who wanted to help others. But what about the bad people. There were bound to be bad people who were Metahumans, too. What’s to stop them from running around and ripping people in half? This was a strange and unusual new world I know found myself in. Soon there were going to be Metahumans all over the place and too many people to get hurt. I could just see it now: giant battles, killer robots, a bunch of guys running around in their underwear and unflattering spandex. Where did the normal people fit into the grand scheme of things?

I thought about it a lot as we drove down the road. I couldn’t help but feel sad for the little person. I looked at my grandfather, sitting there, completely oblivious to the world. He lived in it, of course, but he was a big fish. Big fishes ate little ones, ones like me. I’m not sure if I was ever going to like him because of that. Maybe I could pretend to and pretend to be in his world but it was going to be an act. It had to be an act because the moment it stopped being one, it was the moment that Jonas Oliver really was dead.

We arrived at the airport right on time. Not that it mattered; it was my grandfather’s plane. We could leave whenever he willed it too. Spencer and Locke escorted both of us toward a Gulfstream G650, a rather high-class and sleek business jet. It was customized with the Queen logo on the tail of course but it was all Gulfstream. I’d read about them on the Internet, I used to have a thing for building model airplanes. My father had a friend who worked at Gulfstream and he got a lot of plans for me, one of them was for the G650.

Upon entering the plane, I noticed the old man went with the executive look. Everything was earth tones, plush leather and fake wood paneling. There were fifteen seats, two lavatories and a forward galley that served hot meals. Two stewardesses in blue met us at the door, one of them offered to take my bag but I declined. They were all smiles and creepy. One of them, Judy, offered me a drink when I took a seat. I told her to bring me some coke---I was really thirsty. My grandfather sat next to me so I got up and moved to the other end of the plane. Spencer got up to get me but the old man shook it off.
Judy brought me my drink, then disappeared.

‘We will be getting along in a few short minutes, Mr. Queen. If there’s anything you and your young guest need, feel free to ask,” said the pilot over the intercom, his voice was gruff and gravely.

“Thank you, Ben.”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I had to admit it was kind of cool, the way it reclined. But I shook the happy thought away as quick as it came on. I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying myself; I was supposed to be miserable. These jerks kidnaped me after all.

I tried to fake being comfortable but it wasn’t working. In fact, I think I got too comfortable, because one minute I was trying to not relax and the next someone was shaking me awake. I groaned when I opened my eyes, realizing I had fallen asleep. Judy was hovering nearby, that huge fake smile beaming at me. I nearly jumped out of my feet.

“Miss Queen, you grandfather wishes me to inform you that we have arrived at San Francisco.”

I groaned. What was with this Miss Queen crap? Judy wandered away as I yawned and stretched. I looked toward the window and saw the sun streaming through. It was night in Florida so what the hell time was it in California? I was never good at that whole time zone thing. I couldn’t believe I’d been that tired but I suppose that’s what happens, especially after the day I had. At least I was well rested now.

“How long have I been out?” I asked; it was a general question not directed at anyone.

My grandfather answered. “A couple of hours. We had to make a small stop in Chicago but we made good time.”

Chicago, I’d only been there once, and only at the airport. I went on a business trip with my father and he made a stop there. My father didn’t usually travel out of state on business but every once in a while, he was brought to consult on a project. He brought me along that time because we were going to Myrtle Beach. They were building some kind of condo that my father helped plan. I’m not sure of the basics. I liked Chicago. I’m not sure why a lot of people called it Gotham. I always thought Washington Irving called New York Gotham---smart huh, it pays to be my mother’s child. But it turns out that New York was the Metropolis and Chicago was Gotham.

I was ushered out of the plane quickly enough. My grandfather was on a deadline. He was in a great rush and didn’t have time for “foot draggers”. I can’t help it that I don’t function well in the morning. I think I inherited it from my father.

There was another limo waiting for us. There was also a crowd, most of them reporters. I wasn’t sure what was going on but there were three news vans and lots of cameras flashing. It was so bright I was blinded. They swarmed toward us but luckily, airport security and the police were holding them back. But no one could stop them from shouting questions. They were all doing it at once and most of what they were saying was lost but I did hear a few tidbits.

“Mr. Queen is it true that you found your daughter’s boat?”

“Is it true that she and her family are lost at sea, presumed dead?”

What the hell was all this about? I glared at the old man as Spencer pushed me into the limo then got in himself. I huffed as he shoved me across the seat, practically pushing me into leather. I sat up and slid as far from him as possible. I turned to the window and looked at the vicious reporters as we pulled away. I recognized Lois Lane. God, the woman was all over the place. I’m not sure if she recognized me or not.

“That was a little rough,” scolded my grandfather as he poured himself a cup of tea. “I’m sorry, sir”.

I crossed my arms again, refusing to look at either of them. They were both bastards. I knew what he said last night but I never actually thought he’d go through with it. The morning edition of the New York post was lying on the seat next to the old man, the giant headline read: MISSING QUEEN HEIR NOW PRESUMED DEAD. I’m not sure what pissed me off more: the fact that he pulled this crap without consulting me or the fact that he was so cavalier about it. But it explained why there were so many reporters waiting for us. I’m just not sure, when he had time to cook up something like this. Did he do it on the plane when I was asleep or had he done it sometime before grabbing me at the depot?

“Don’t look at me that way,” he said in response to my evil stare. “You knew this was coming. It was the next appropriate action.”

I huffed. “You could have said you found me adrift at sea or something?” He laughed. Even Spencer cracked a smile. “How would I explain your whereabouts for the last three months?”

I shrugged. I was about to mention telling people about the island but that would have raised too many questions. Besides, there was already a small story about me being found there. It wasn’t front-page news, but it was still a good spread. I actually had both stories saved, the one about the real me on the island and the one where Miss Arrowette made her miraculous debut. I guess I could see where that would be a problem but he could have thought of something else.

I snatched the paper off the seat and read the article. It was all speculative but it was pretty clear that my family and I were dead. There was no mention of the bastards of course. The old man’s PR rep spun some story about the storms that hit us the day before we disappeared. The article made it sound like our boat was capsized. I sighed. So according to the world I was dead, drowned at sea. I suppose there were worse ways to go. But what did that mean about me now? Who was I going to be if I wasn’t Jonas Oliver?

We drove for a while, in silence. I didn’t have anything to say to the man who pretended to be family. We pulled up to the Queen Industries building about an hour later. When I got out of the car, I marveled at how big it really was. I’d only seen it on TV and in the newspapers. When I was younger, after I found out my grandfather was billionaire Jameson Queen, I tried to talk my mother into taking me there. But she adamantly refused. She told me my grandfather was a cruel and hateful man and that he didn’t want to be bothered. I cried for hours. Now I knew she’d been right.

Spencer and Locke put me between them as we walked into the building. They were afraid I’d run away and they were probably right. The first chance I got I was out of here. I just had to figure out how to ditch the goon squad.

The four of us got into a big elevator. This thing could fit a whole football team in it; it was absolutely huge. We were in it for a while too. Queen Towers---the name of the building---was sixty-five stories high. Sixty of the floors were all business; whatever that entailed and the top five was the old man’s penthouse. We didn’t go up that high though. The elevator stopped on the fifty fifth floor where we were ushered into a plush, corporate looking waiting room. The floors were marble, the walls were a mixture of glass and chrome. Everything was shiny and brand new. There was a huge reception desk in front of us, complete with a perky, bubbling blonde. Behind her was the typical giant Q and underneath that was a plaque that said PUBLIC RELATIONS OFFICE.

So we’re going to PR first, that makes sense.

My grandfather led us through a pair of glass doors; he didn’t wait to be buzzed in. I supposed there were some perks to owning the building. The PR office was simple: wooden floors, beige walls. There was a small sectional couch in the corner around a circular table. The focus of the room was a large mahogany table in the center. It looked like a conference room more than anything. There was a single woman sitting at the head of the table, a stack of manila folders in front of her. She was middle aged, dressed conservatively. Her graying black hair pulled on top of her head in a functional bun. She looked like a severe bitch but she smiled when she saw us.

“Oh she’s a peach,” said the woman as she stood up. She looked directly at me. “You’re a spitting image of your mother, darling.”

I smiled awkwardly. Not too many guys liked to be compared to their mother. Then again I’m not a guy anymore---at least not fully---and my mother is a very beautiful woman.

My grandfather introduced her as Scarlet Jefferies, the best Chief of Staff in the world. He didn’t introduce me to her but I think that’s because he didn’t know what to call me. Hell, I didn’t know either. But that’s the reason we were here. We all sat at the table, Miss Jefferies---call me Scarlet---ordered us some breakfast and we got down to business. She started talking about funeral arrangements. They kind of floored me but I knew it was coming. I just wasn’t expecting it so quickly. She said that so far the press has only been grasping at straws, which is exactly what she wanted. She said Betty---the PR woman---was writing up the obits as we speak.

She detailed for us what was going to happen. The funeral was going to be private, with only friends and family. She expected about a hundred people or so but she said more could be penciled in. She wanted to do it one of the local perishes before I butted in. My parents didn’t believe in God, it was a choice that they stood proudly by. I think that put a kink in her plans but she recovered quickly. She pulled out an iPad and made some quick adjustments. The funeral was now being held at a funeral home. Then she moved along like nothing happened.

She and my grandfather talked about other things pertaining to the funeral but I phased them out. It was kind of strange to hear them talking about your own funeral when you were in the room. I glanced around the room a bit, looking at all the glass framed pictures on the wall. Good portions of them were the old man with different people: politicians, world leaders, several celebrities. There was one with him and the Rat Pack, that was kind of cool. But it wasn’t as cool as the one with him and Errol Flynn, that one made my day. It also made me a bit jealous. My grandfather couldn’t have been more than my age in the picture and yet he was already well off.

My great grandparents started out in oil. They hit it big at the turn of the century. During the Depression while everyone else suffered, they did marginally well. My grandfather switched the company over to technology in the Eighties when he realized how far the microchip was going to go. His major competitors did the same, all except for a young company called Lexcorp. They moved into arms manufacturing.

“Olivia, dear” a voice cut into my thoughts.

I looked around the room until I realized she was talking to me. “I’m sorry.”

Scarlet smiled. “We have something we’d like to discuss with you, sweetie”

I smiled weakly. I hated it when people tried to be extra nice to me. I could tell she was phony, most of those big business types were, the old man being the biggest. But I didn’t let any of that show. Instead, I sat like the docile little flower they wanted me to be and I listened to what they had to say. It was about my new life or more precisely the life of Olivia Queen. Apparently, all the arrangements were made. Jonas Oliver died on a sailboat in the Atlantic and Olivia Queen was born. That wasn’t the official story of course. The official tale had Olivia living overseas at some prestigious boarding school where she was being groomed as James Queen’s Heir Apparent to the Throne.

Olivia’s parents---my aunt, Laura and Uncle Robert---were killed in Africa while on Safari when I was five. Which really did happen, it was horrible and my mother was inconsolable for days. She and her sister were real close. After that, my grandfather supposedly kept me out of the spotlight, allowing a ward to raise me until I was old enough to be sent to school. He sent me to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in Europe. There I stayed until yesterday where I heard of the tragic news about my aunt, her husband and my dear cousin, Jonas.

It was a load of crap, which no one would buy, and I told them that, too.

“It’s only for the press,” said Scarlet, keeping her composure.

“What about the boarding school, aren’t they going to wonder where the mysterious Olivia Queen came from?”

Scarlet smiled. “The school is called St. Helens, your great grandfather; Jameson the Second set it up in 1923, two years after your grandfather was born. The school has been under the grace of the Queen family ever since. We’ve already made the proper adjustments to their roster and the Headmistress has been paid handsomely. As far as the world knows, Olivia Queen has been a student at St. Helen’s Academy for Young Women for many years.”
She smiled, proud of herself.

I huffed. “Throwing money at something isn’t always the answer.”

Scarlet laughed lightly. “Oh she’s a darling, Jameson.”

My grandfather smiled and sipped his tea.

Scarlet laid out the rest of my new fictional existence. They decided to make me sixteen to distance myself from well, myself. I thought that was kind of cool. They were able to do some backdoor dealings and got me a social security number and a birth certificate. They didn’t explain how they did that but I had my suspicions. She rambled off a bunch of other stuff, including something about getting my measurements, having my picture taken and things like that. I was still smiling about the sixteen thing. That meant I could drive. I’ve wanted to drive ever since I turned ten and now something that was anticipating greatly was finally here. It was so cool because sophomores got to drive their cars to school.

Wait…sixteen made me a sophomore now. That was so fricking cool; I couldn’t wait to see Mia’s face when I pulled up to school…

Two things dawned on me then. The first being that I wasn’t supposed to know Mia now; she was Jonas’s best friend. That made me feel a little sick to my stomach. How can I see my best friend and not be best friends with her? That led me into my second thing: was I going to be a sophomore? The first semester ends in December, at Christmas break. The new semester starts at the end of January. How the hell would I be able to pull off disappearing as back in August and coming back as Olivia in January?

I asked my question: “What’s going to happen about school?”

My grandfather beat Scarlet to the answer. “You’ll attend in January as a new student.”

I sighed. That was a relief but I was still curious as to how I was going to pull it off.

“You’ll just love Elias,” said Scarlet happily. “It is the very best school for young women in the country. I went there you know.”

Girl’s school, what the hell was she talking about?

“I’m not going to Elias, I’m going back to my old school,” I said defiantly. I needed to gain some control for myself.

“That’s out of the question,” said my grandfather “your old life is over. Jonas Oliver is dead and he’s going to remain dead. Can you imagine the scandal if you showed up to your old school where everyone knew you.’

He started that hacking cough of his again. I felt kind of bad because I brought it on. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief. He stopped coughing a few minutes later. When he put the handkerchief away, I thought I saw blood on it. He’s really sick?

“You need to let go of your old life,” he said continuing. ‘You need to understand that people will ask questions and we can’t have that. What we’re doing here is illegal and no amount of money can fix that. Besides, I can’t have people knowing you’re still alive.”

He left that last bit hanging. Did that mean I was right after all and someone did kill my parents on purpose?

He reached across the table as if to take my hand but stopped. Instead, he grabbed his teacup and drained it.

Our visit to Scarlet ended there but not before she got up and gave me a hug. Then she handed me the stack of folders, telling me it was imperative that I read what was inside. I grumbled a bit. I still wasn’t happy about all this but I had to agree with the old man. If someone did try to kill us, they’d be pretty pissed that they failed to get me. So I stuck the folders under my arm as we walked out of the office and into the elevator.

Jonas Oliver was dead; long live Olivia Queen.

Chapter Tenn:

It’s kind of weird going to your funeral. I stood in the back of the assembled crowd, away from the prying eyes. There was this big tree near my parents’ plot that provided the best cover. During the services, I had to wear a veil to hide my face. I was the only “girl” in the place wearing one but there were a lot of older women. I felt kind of ridiculous, but at least it hid my face. Most of the people from the church left but there was still a pretty good crowd at the cemetery. All of my friends were there. Roy was standing with Mia, an arm around her waist. I’d never seen him in a suit before---it kind of suited him---bad pun. Mia wasn’t doing so well. She didn’t look so good either. I could tell she’d lost a lot of weight and there were bags under her eyes. I wanted to go over there and comfort her myself but I knew that was out of the question.

Mr. and Mrs. Dearden were standing behind her. They looked just as sad as ever. They were somber people to begin with. It surprised me to see Mr. D there though; he was such a workaholic, probably more so seeing as he inherited the whole of the company. It was actually partially mine---per my father’s will---but seeing, as I was dead I arranged last night to have everything signed over to Mr. D. He deserved it more than I did.

Coach McCoy was there, his huge frame and height was taller than most. He was stone faced and looked out of place in his gray suit. I usually saw him wearing a blue tracksuit with yellow trim. I’d also never seen him this well groomed; he was kind of a mess any other time. He was standing with a group of kids from my class, most I knew but some I didn’t. Shado, the Japanese girl was among them. She was my lab partner. We got along decent enough but we weren’t friends. I was glad she was there though. I recognized a lot of other people too. I saw Dean Charles, my mother’s boss. He was standing with a group of other teachers. Some of my father’s people were there too, like his secretary Margaret. She was the nicest woman I’d ever known.

My grandfather had guests there too. He was sitting in one of the chairs reserved for family, Spencer and Locke behind him---standing of course. My grandfather didn’t look good today. He actually brought a cane to the church, which really made him look his age. Last night I asked him about his health but he told me it was nothing to worry about. Scarlet was standing off to the side, along with several other Q.I. employees I hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. They all looked sad and were dressed in black. It kind of annoyed me that they were present. I know they were kissing the boss’ ass but they didn’t know me or my parents.

The rest of the people present were faceless suits. They were probably friends of my grandfather, there to show their respects. The only one who stood out was a man who stood in the back of the assemblage. He was dressed in a sharp black suit. He had three burly guards standing with him but he looked as if he didn’t need them. There was something about him that made my skin crawl. He was tall and bald. His face was like a mask. He was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite remember where I’d seen him.

But the person I was looking for wasn’t there. I was surprised when Sandra didn’t show up to the church but I didn’t think anything of it. We’d only gone out that once and it wasn’t even really a date. But it was a bit surprising that she wasn’t here either. I thought we knew each other a little better than that. I know now that I didn’t have any real feelings for her. I didn’t have any testosterone to do so but I think I could have called her a friend. Maybe she was too upset to come. I would have been destroyed if it were her funeral. I’m not sure if I would have showed up but I would have tried my hardest.

I sighed, thinking about her only made things more complicated.

“I once went to my own funeral?”

I jumped, not realizing someone had snuck up on me. I turned around, not sure what to say or how to react. Standing next to me was BB. I snapped around, looking at the assembled masses. I vaguely remember seeing him at the church, sitting next to Roy. But I hadn’t seen him when Roy arrived at the cemetery. I just assumed BB went home. It never occurred to me that he was spying on me. He was leaning against the tree and from the looks of it; he was quite comfortable. I assume he’d been there for quite a while and wasn’t shocked when I didn’t hear him. BB had a way of sneaking up on people.

I panicked but I kept my cool. “I’m sorry, sir, do I know you?”

He smiled of those famous big toothy smiles of his. ‘You can cut the crap Jonas, I’ve known you for quite some time and even though you have changed a bit in the last few months, your aura does not lie.”

BB was all about the auras. He claimed it was something his trip learned from a magic man a few hundred years ago. They also dabbled in spirit walking and shape shifting, if you believed BB’s stories. Roy and I used to eat them up when we were kids but as we got older, they sounded kind of crazy and made up.

Apparently, there was some credence to his claims after all.

I sighed. There was no use lying. “Does Roy know?”

He shook his head. He lifted my veil, putting it on the top of my head. He smiled when he saw my face. I was crying. He wiped the tears away and held me for a while. It was could to feel comforted by a man I considered one of my second fathers, the other being Mia’s dad. I cried for ten minutes, burying my face into his chest.“Do not cry Little Arrow, everything is going to be all right.”

Though his people called us different names, BB had nicknames of his own for Roy and me. Roy was Little Bow because he was sturdy and strong. I was Little Arrow because I was sharp and fast. He said it made the two of us the perfect friends because we complemented each other so well. We always thought it was pretty cool. Mia thought it was kind of stupid but I think she was jealous because she was left out of our little brotherhood.

After I was done crying, I gave him the abridged version of my story. He listened intently and smiled at several parts, mainly the ones where I mentioned being Miss Arrowette. Yeah, I told him but he would have found out, if he didn’t know already. He was good at reading people and he knew my style. When I was done, he took me by the hand and led me away from the crowd. I didn’t really want to see them lower three empty coffins into the ground anyway. He took me over to where a couple of the older tombstones had toppled with age. We sat down and he laughed.

“I thought that was you” he said, “They’ve been showing a grainy security video from the mall on the TV. You can’t really make anything out but I recognized your shooting style.”

I groaned. I saw that stupid thing on the news last night. They were playing it on several channels; I looked like an idiot. I’m just glad they didn’t show anything of me running around in the scuba outfit; I would have died from embarrassment.

“I think the press is going a little overboard.”

He laughed. “You sure picked a helluva time to be a hero. That Jade and Terra are all over the news too. I’m also hearing rumblings about some girl in Japan as well.”

I nodded. I’d read something about her too. These Metahumans were coming out of the woodwork now. I couldn’t help but wonder where I fit in with all of this.

How can a mere human compare to the likes of them?

We talked for about fifteen minutes, about nonsensical things. He wanted to know about my body and why it was so changed. So I told him about my condition. I started crying again and he gave me another hug. I called myself a freak but he said I was special. I tried to argue but he wouldn’t allow me too. Instead, he reached into his shirt and took something from his neck. He put it around my neck without me even realizing it.

“This pendant is a good luck charm” he said, “It has protected my people for generations. It was given to me by my father and his father before him. And although Roy is technically my son I wish for you to have it.”

I lifted the pendant in my hands. It was a green arrowhead, about as big as my palm. I tried to protest and told him I couldn’t accept it but he insisted. He said he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. To demonstrate he leaned forward, kissed me on the forehead and walked away. I got up to go after him but he disappeared when he was only a few feet away. He didn’t vanish but he passed by a tree and disappeared. He liked to do that a lot too.

I hid the pendant inside the collar of my blouse. Then I walked slowly back to the group. Everyone was parting now. I saw the bald headed man walk away from my grandfather; he looked pissed. My grandfather was sitting and he looked upset. He gave me a look when I approached but he didn’t scold me. Instead, he nodded to Locke and I was escorted to the car. I grumbled a bit but I didn’t protest. I decided to play the good little girl, for now at least.

>-------------------------------------------------->

When I walked into the room after the funeral, I flopped onto my couch and pulled off my shoes. Never again was I letting anyone talk me into heels. When I got up this morning, Scarlet was there waiting for me. She had a nice black blouse, skirt and heels waiting for me. I tried to protest but she said it was necessary to appear as a girl my age. It was all a part of my grand re-education process. According to Scarlet, she had about three months to mold me into the ideal teenage girl. I told her she was wasting her time but she said she liked a challenge.

After meeting with her, we took the elevator up. My grandfather got off on the fifty-ninth floor where his office was located. Spencer took me up to my floor. It was mine alone. He said they went to the house and got some of my things but most of them were inappropriate like my clothes. When he showed me the penthouse, I was floored because it was enormous, far too big for just me. It had a main sitting room with a huge sectional sofa, 52-inch 3D flat screen that came with a state of the art entertainment center, its own gas powered fireplace, a fully stocked kitchen, three bedrooms, two baths, a Jacuzzi and one of the best views I’d ever seen. There was a fruit basket on the coffee table with a note from Scarlet. The room was Spartan and manly, with no furniture except the couch. In her note, she said she’d get an interior decorator in as soon as she could. I was in no rush; I kind of liked the Spartan look.

After Spencer left me alone, I found the 360 and played games all night---I had a massive video game library now, I think it was every one on the market. I must have fallen asleep on the couch because I woke up there in the morning. When I stumbled into the bathroom, it was twice the size of my bedroom at home. I showered, dressed in a long t-shirt and spent most of the day watching TV. Scarlet had come by around about noon and told me how things were going to go for the next three months. There was the funeral then what she liked to call “Girl Lessons”.

I groaned and threw my shoes across the room. The Girl Lessons officially began bright and early in the morning. I wasn’t looking forward to those. I liked being a guy and even though I couldn’t be one, I was looking forward to being a tomboy. But apparently, that wasn’t the case. So far, I’d been getting away with jeans and a baggy t-shirt. But Scarlet thought I was too masculine looking and that meant I was too Jonas looking. So the first step in Girl Lessons was taking me shopping. I wasn’t looking forward to that one bit.

I got off the couch and found the shirt I wore all day yesterday. Scarlet buried it n the bottom of my hamper, in hopes that I wouldn’t wear it again. But it was still fairly clean. I stripped down to my panties and pulled the shirt over my head. There was a tall mirror on the wall and I stopped to take a long look. I saw a blonde haired fox staring at me. My boobs weren’t very big yet but I sure had the butt. I was still amazed at how much I’d changed in the last few months. I remembered when Mia went through puberty---she was twelve---one minute she was boyish and the next she had all these curves. Her boobs were about as big as mine were now but there was nothing boyish about her now.

“Jonas you really are dead, aren’t you?”

I sighed as I looked at myself. There really wasn’t a boy in there after all. I left my preening and went back to the couch. The sectional was huge. It was big enough to fit a dozen people and still have room. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped myself in it. It was something my Nana---my father’s mother---knitted for me. It was one of the last things I had of hers. She died when I was ten, I never knew her husband, my other grandfather. After making the initial trip to the house they asked if there was anything else, I needed, the blanket was on my short list. So was my laptop but they were reluctant to bring that to me. I finally got to them to relent. All my things were here when I woke up this morning.

I refused to sleep in my new room. I got a peek in there yesterday and was horrified. Even though there was no decoration in the rest of my place, the bedroom was another story entirely. Someone saw too it to make it the girliest, pinkest room ever. It was an absolute eyesore. It had everything a girl could ever want, including a vanity and a canopy bed. But I wasn’t a girl and it scared the hell out of me. It scared the hell out of Scarlet when she looked too. She told me she’d make my room priority one on her list, it was the only thing she and I agreed on.

I grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels but there was nothing on. So I found myself grabbing my laptop and booting up. It felt strange being surrounded by all this technology after being away from it for so long. When I logged into my account, I had several e-mails. Most of them were spam that I deleted but there were a few from Mia, dating all the way back to August, to the day after I disappeared. I started with that one. It was a pleasant enough message, just telling me how bored she was without me. After that, the messages started to get less pleasant and more worried. Mia was frantic. First, she had been pissed---the two of us never forgot to return e-mails---then she was scared. She could tell something was wrong.

As I read them, I started to tear up. I could feel Mia’s anguish and it killed me inside.

The last e-mail was dated a few weeks ago. When I opened it up, I was surprised at how different she sounded. It was very somber. It wasn’t even really addressed to me; it was just her rambling. After the last few, I realized she was just using her e-mails to me as an outlet. She mentioned feeling depressed and suicidal. Without me there was nothing more to live for. She talked about how she ate very little now and couldn’t sleep because she kept having nightmares about me. Apparently, the day before she wrote it they had some big Memorial Service for me at the school.

I was bawling like crazy. My friend, my best friend in the whole wide world, was hurting. I bit my lip and closed the laptop, not bothering to log off. I looked at the clock on the wall; it was four in the afternoon. The Deardens lived just outside the city, about two hours away. They were a couple of miles from my house. I knew it was probably a big mistake but I needed to see her, I didn’t care if it blew everything my grandfather was trying to establish. She was my best friend and my “death” was killing her.

I pulled off my big shirt, found my bra and a pair of pants. Scarlet had done some preliminary shopping for me. She got me a couple of tops, some jeans, underwear, socks and a few skirts. I was never going to wear the skirts but the other clothes weren’t too bad. The jeans were skinny leg and really tight but they fit me like a glove---which scared the hell out of me. I found a plain white shirt, it was tight in all the wrong places and felt wrong but it would have to do. I have to get used to it. My sneakers were a new pair from Lady Footlocker, another pair of Nikes like my mom bought for me. I completely my look with a pink hoodie---it was horrible but it was all they had.

I grabbed my keycard, locked my door and went into the elevator.

>-------------------------------------------------->

They caught me in the lobby. Apparently, my room had a security camera just outside the door and I got picked up when I left. Spencer and my grandfather were waiting for me, neither looked too happy. My grandfather wanted to march me right back up to my room but I talked him out of it.

“I feel like a bird in a cage up there” I whined. “I need to get out, get some fresh air.”

He contemplated it for a while but he finally relented. But there were conditions of course, one of them being that I had to take a car. I talked him out of the limo but wasn’t able to talk him into anything more fancy than a gray sedan. The other condition was that Spencer had to go with me. The city was a dangerous place, especially for a young lady all alone. I tried to tell him I wasn’t one hundred percent female but I was close enough in his book. I didn’t want to press that matter, I was hoping to keep the thing between my legs for the time being.

I had conditions of my own. The first being that Spencer had to leave his gun behind. I hated guns; I hated everything they stood for. He reluctantly gave it up as long as he could have the right to carry a tazer. I agreed. My second one was very important to me and essential to my overall plan: Spencer needed to maintain a distance of twenty feet at all times. They argued and we bargained it down to fifteen. I could do fifteen, it would be harder but it was doable.

The car was waiting for us when we went outside. Spencer got into the driver’s seat and made me sit in the back. He had some kind of master lock, which locked all the doors and kept me from opening them. He grinned, thinking himself clever. We drove into the heart of the city, going toward the shopping district. He thought I was some dumb blonde itching to blow some dough. Before we left my grandfather gave me a bank card and told me it had a one hundred thousand dollar limit but I was to be frugal with it. I nearly had a heart attack, especially when I saw my name on the card. What kind of adult gives a teenager an allowance that big?

We pulled up in front of a small boutique. It was a cutest, girly store, the girliest I could find. It was perfect for Operation Lose the Goon. Spencer grumbled about it but he was ordered to follow me around and to do as I said---within reason of course. We went into the shop and it was the girliest place I’d ever seen. It was jammed pack with row after row of clothing. I wanted to gag but instead I perused the aisles, looking like I belonged. It didn’t take much; after all, I was a teenage girl now.

I started pulling clothes out left and right, looking at them and sticking them back. I didn’t really know what I was doing but I’d seen Mia do it more than once. I found a pair of sunglasses and put them on; they were perfect. I browsed for a few more seconds, grabbing some Chap Stick and gum. I stuck the Chap Stick in Spencer’s pocket without him noticing and went to the counter to pay for my things. He looked uncomfortable. As we were exiting the store, the alarm went off. The woman behind the counter shouted at us. She checked me and seeing as I was clean she told me, I could leave. I smiled at Spencer as the woman made him empty his pockets. When she saw the tazer on his belt, she went hysterical.

I chose that time to run. I took off down the street and around the corner. I was too fast for Spencer, who was still stuck back in the store. I was laughing the whole way. Once I was far enough away I used the closest ATM. I got four hundred bucks out and hailed a cab. When he got there, I slipped into the back and saw Spencer as he rounded the corner. He saw me get into the cab and started running but we were long gone before he got to me. I saw him stamp his foot on the ground as the cab went around the corner. I told him where I wanted to go and he was more than happy to oblige. I sat in silence, wondering about Mia. She looked real bad at the cemetery. Her skin looked real pale, her hair was back to its normal, dull mud brown color and her face looked gaunt and ghost-like. She was a shadow of her vibrant self. I couldn’t help but think of the email and her suicidal comments. I needed to see her; I needed to make sure she was all right.

We pulled up to Mia’s house about two hours later. I gave the cabbie two hundred bucks ... that made him beam. I pulled the hood over my head and put on the sunglasses. I told the cabbie to stay put and I’d give him an extra hundred. I stuck a stick of gum in my mouth and chewed it like a moron. I took a deep breath and walked up the driveway. Mia’s mother was like a second mom to me. I was a bit nervous as I walked up onto their porch. I didn’t want them to recognize me, at least not right away. I’m not sure what I was going to say if they did recognize me but I was hoping they wouldn’t.

When I rang the doorbell, Dr. D answered. She was dressed in her white coat and looked to be going off to work. She often worked the late shift at the hospital. She smiled at me as she opened the door.

“How can I help you sweetie?”

“I’m looking for Mia; we were supposed to hang out today.”

Dr. D looked past me to the waiting cab. She frowned. “Mia isn’t here dear.”

Mia never went anywhere. “Do you know where I can find here?”

She nodded. “The same place she’s been going for the last few weeks, over to the Oliver place.”

Mia was going to my house. Why the hell would she be going there?

I thanked her and told her I knew where that was. She smiled and followed me down the driveway. She offered to drive me there but I told her I had the cab. She nodded and walked toward her Benz in the drive. I went back to the cab and told him to take me to my old house. Why would Mia be going there? Was she looking for some kind of connection to me? Maybe it felt like she was close to me there.

We pulled up to my house about ten minutes later. I gave the cabbie the rest of the money I promised and told him I wouldn’t need him any longer. He took his money graciously and drove away. I was at the end of our long driveway, looking at the place that had been my home for fifteen years. It looked dark, gloomy and depressing. I walked slowly down the drive and stared at the large house, as it got closer and closer. It was all locked up and dark inside. In the three months since, the grass had grown long and there were newspapers overflowing in and around our mailbox. All the flowers in my mother’s garden were dead and the little bird bath was bone dry.

I didn’t bother with the front door because we locked it before we left.

I went around back. I knew the door there would be locked but there was a hidden key nearby. I climbed the privacy fence into the backyard, nearly falling on Sparky’s old doghouse. It pained me to see it there; I missed that dog just as much as I missed my family. I found the key in a fake rock and used it to gain entry into the sunroom. The house was dark and cold. The mid-afternoon sun shone through the dusty windows but it wasn’t the same. Most of our furniture was gone and everything else was in boxes. It looked a lot like the Miami beach house.

I shouted “Mia” and my voice echoed through the emptiness.

I wanted to cry so badly but I forced it in. Instead, I went upstairs. If Mia were anywhere, it would be my bedroom. I crept slowly down the hall, suppressing my tears and trying to keep myself from coughing. The place was dusty and smelled of musk. My mother would have had a fit because she was such a clean person. When I reached my room, I found the door ajar. I stepped inside. The only thing there was my bed frame and more boxes. This time I cried. My whole life had been in this room and it was horrible to see it boxed away like that.

I sighed. There was no Mia here either. I took one last look at the room and turned to leave. That’s when I heard the scream. I ran back into the room and looked out the window. It was coming from the forest behind the house. I could see several bicycles resting against the outer trees; one of them was Mia’s. Of course, she’d be in the woods but who did the other bikes belong too?

The scream sounded again. It was definitely a girl’s.

I ran to my closet. Inside I found what I was looking for: my bow case. I threw it on the bed and opened it; my bow was still there. It looked exactly like I left it. It was my trusty PSE X-Appeal. I pulled it out of the case, gave the string a couple of pulls. It was a little too easy for me now but it was still just as good. I found my quiver too as well as my wrist guard and glove. I grabbed all of them and ran for the door.

>-------------------------------------------------->

I knew these woods better than anyone. I’d spent my whole childhood traipsing through them, pretending to be on adventures with my Merry Men. Now I wasn’t traipsing. Now I was running as fast as I could, running around trees, trying to avoid the crunch of the autumn leaves. Mia ha screamed two more times since I left the house, the second time I had just reached the woods. The last scream was about ten minutes ago. It worried me that there wasn’t another one.

The company she was with worried me too. From my bedroom window, I didn’t recognize the bikes but I did when I got closer. They were all custom jobs, modified wheels, gears and paint jobs. They belonged to a group of jackasses from school, led by Dave Martin. They were a bunch of stoners mainly, troublemakers who pulled petty crimes and got a few months in Juvie for it. Why Mia was hanging with them was well beyond me. It hurt to think about it. Surely, they weren’t her friends now. Her emails had said she was slacking off, doing poorly in school. But was she doing so bad as to hang out with them? Dave and his guys were the lowest of the low, scum of the earth. They were notorious for their nasty ways, especially how they treated women. There was one girl, last year, who they actually put in the hospital because she refused to let them have their way with her.

A fire burned in me as I ran. If they touched her in any way like that, I’d kill them all.

It didn’t take me long to find them. They were making all sorts of noise, laughing and joking around. There were four of them, not including Mia. They were all sitting in a circle, drinking and passing a joint between them. I hid myself behind a tree, nocking an arrow and waiting. Mia was on the ground in the middle of the group. She was dressed like a Goth---which was nothing new---but she was a little more so than usual. I’d never seen her in fishnets and a skirt before. She looked scared and maybe a bit drunk. It broke my heart to see her like that. She wore dark makeup and didn’t look like anything like the damsel in distress.

“Scream again” said Dave, the big fat one of the group.

Mia laughed, pushing herself off the ground and screamed again. The others laughed with her and I was crushed. She wasn’t in trouble at all; she was having fun. These bastards had corrupted my best friend. They took her when she was must vulnerable and turned her into one of them. I aimed at Dave, so eager to let my arrow go but I couldn’t. I wasn’t a murderer. Besides every person makes their own choice and even if Mia was coerced into it, she still made that choice.

It pissed me off a bit but there was nothing to be done.

At least nothing with my bow.

I was about to set my bow against the tree and try a diplomatic approach when Mia screamed again. But this time it wasn’t a scream in jest. One of Dave’s cronies was standing in front of her, his pants pulled down to his ankles. I knew him, Greg Smith, and I hated his guts.

“I said knock it off Greg” she said, pushing to her feet.

Bobby Crane grabbed her from behind, holding her arms and forcing her to the ground.

Greg approached her, his boxers now at his ankles too. He was holding his erect thing, trying to force it into Mia’s mouth. Mia was struggling and crying. Dave, Bobby, Greg and their fourth friend Mike were laughing. Me, I was even more pissed. I grabbed my bow, nocked an arrow and took aim. I targeted Greg’s earring when he turned his head, to laugh at Dave. I was using blunt targeting arrows, the ones we used in class. When I fired, I put the arrow straight through his earring, tearing it off his ear and putting it in the nearby tree.

Greg screamed in pain, falling backwards into Dave. The two of them fell to the ground in a heap. I fired another shot, pinning Bobby’s sleeve to the tree he was leaning against. He let go of Mia and she dropped to the ground. She scrambled away and looked around frantically. She was looking for the shooter, probably wondering if there was an arrow for her too.

Dave pushed Greg off of him, grabbing a beer bottle as he got to his feet. I fired one shot that broke the bottle and another into the ground right near his left foot. He screamed and pissed his pants. He grabbed Greg and pulled him off the ground. The two of them didn’t stay around for very long. Together with Mike, the three of them took off running, leaving Bobby still stuck to the tree. He called to them but they didn’t stop. So HE tried to free himself, pulling at the arrow with his free hand.

I shot another arrow, pinning his other sleeve to the tree. He wailed in fear. Mia rounded on him and kicked him in the balls. He wailed again but this time from the pain. Then she got on her knees, waiting for her arrow no doubt.

I stepped out from my hiding place and walked into the clearing. I dropped my bow, took off my sunglasses and dropped my hood. The look on Mia’s face was one of pure and utter shock. First, she stared at me, then she rubbed her eyes. When that didn’t seem to work, she crawled away from me, probably thinking I was a ghost. I walked over to her, bent down in front of her and gently touched her face. I was so close that our noses were practically touching.

She reached out and touched my face. “Ollie?”

I smiled. “I’m sorry it took so long, Speedy.”

She broke into tears and threw her arms around my neck. I started crying too, holding her like I’d never held her before. I didn’t want to let go. She was my best friend in the whole wide world and I was so close to losing her. We hugged for what seemed like an eternity. When we finally separating, tears streaming down both our faces, she slapped me.

“I deserved that,” I said laughing through my tears.

She glared at me. “Where the hell have you been?”

I hugged her again and cried.