Summary: Tommy goes wandering and uncovers something he wishes he hadn't.


Tommy waltzed down the halls of Merlyn Global like he owned them. He didn't quite own them, not yet, but he was getting the distinct feeling it was imminent now more than it ever had been. He'd finally woken up to the fact that he was meant to be here, just as his father had always wanted. Gone were his days of being a playboy. Laurel would be so proud of him for finally having grown up and gotten a real job, taking on the responsibilities of an adult the way she already had. Now they made the perfect couple, her an up and coming Assistant District Attorney, him the future CEO of Starling City's largest corporation. The words "power couple" echoed in his head.

Merlyn Global employees nodded to him as they exited the lift and he exchanged places with them. He didn't know where he was headed, only that he had an hour to kill and wanted to properly get the lay of the land. Apart from the main mezzanine and his own office near the top of the building, he really had no idea what it was that everybody else did as they occupied the forty or so floors in between.

He studied the lift panel and swiped his access card, knowing it would take him anywhere he wanted and, on a whim, chose the button right at the very bottom marked B4. Probably just more underground car parking. At first it didn't work and then he remembered that certain areas had an additional key code. He'd seen his father enter the code and wouldn't have remembered it except that his father - ever the family pessimist - had used the date his Mom had been killed. He didn't feel guilty knowing it. It was hard not to notice that specific sequence of numbers when it was keyed in, even by deft, practiced fingers.

Screw it, Tommy thought, keying it in himself. He was a Merlyn. Nothing was off limits.

The lift descended, not stopping anywhere along the way to pick up anyone else, forcing them to wait as more important people went about their business. When it reached its destination, it didn't slide open so much as it hissed open. Immediately Tommy felt the chill in the air, forcing him to shiver involuntarily. Woah, he muttered, as he saw what lay beyond the doors, stepping tentatively into the space beyond.

There was a long metal desk that ran the length of the dark room, its only light cast through the huge ventilation fans at the end of the room, giving it an every moonlit glow. On the table were scattered items, bits of computer hardware, what looked like surveillance equipment, maps and schematics of places and things he couldn't identify. Definitely not a car park, but also not like any research lab he'd ever seen before.

More troubling was the huge metal rack in the middle of the table, housing a dozen lethally sharp looking samurai swords. His dad had a penchant for things from East Asia. His office upstairs was filled with large black statues of Asian warriors lining the walls. Tommy assumed they were there to intimidate people and make it feel like they were surrounded by an army of men loyal to the Merlyn name. He'd gotten used to them now, and had even considered dressing them with beanies and ski masks just to see if his father still had any sense of humour left. These swords however were not ornamental. He reached out to touch the edge of one, testing its blade.

'Careful,' came the voice from behind him, startling him enough that he jerked his hand, the blade easily knicking his fingertip and drawing blood. As Tommy turned, his father was standing there, calm and unwavering. 'You shouldn't be down here.'

'So don't give me a security pass that gets me anywhere,' came the childish retort as he stuck the finger in his mouth and sucked away the coppery blood. Seeing his father standing there drew his eyes to a cabinet to his left, where dark clothing hung. He walked towards it and Tommy suddenly realised what he was really seeing. 'Jesus dad, what the hell is this?' His fingers traced over the costume that hung on a mannequin, all sinister black leather and buckles, sending a jolt of irrational fear running through him. 'You're the Vigilante?'

Malcolm snorted in derision. 'Nothing so crude as at.'

In those few words, Tommy could sense the enmity he harboured for that masked man who haunted their streets, meting out his own brand of justice. It was impossible, however, not to draw the comparison. 'What then?'

A slow grin worked its way across Malcolm's face as he spread his arms. 'Look around you, Tommy. All those years you wanted to understand why I wasn't there. All those years you accused me of being absent and doing nothing to avenge the people who killed your mother. This is the answer.'

Tommy's brow furrowed. 'You were here all this time? Hiding down in your little secret lair?'

Malcolm's head shook slowly. One hand slipped into his pocket as he began slowly moving around the room, admiring the deadly arsenal of bows and arrows. 'I went someplace else. Far away, where I could learn to shed my weaknesses and become the man I was meant to be.'

Malcolm reached the end of the table, where an ageing photograph of Tommy and his mom sat on its own. Malcolm's fingers brushed the glass, some small shred of affection clearly visible in the action. 'I did it for her.' Then his expression changed, twisting into unabated anger. 'The Glades is rife with every kind of filth and criminal. We need to stamp them out, one by one if need be.'

'Dad, that's crazy talk. You can't just go around-' he paused, realising the next words he'd been about to say were "killing people." His dad wasn't a killer, was he? Ruthless in the boardroom, definitely, but that was it.

'Have I killed people?' Malcolm asked, voicing the question in Tommy's head that he didn't want an answer to. His cold blue eyes locked with Tommy's. 'No one that deserved to live.'

What did that even mean? His Dad was always answering questions in riddles that made no sense. He only had to take one look at the steely, assured gaze that met his to know what the real answer was.

Tommy swallowed hard, forcing down the dry wedge of horror lodged in the back of his throat. 'Jesus… you…' Tommy shook his head, trying to dispel the awful truth. 'This isn't a game, Dad.'

'I'm not playing games. I meant what I said. This city is diseased. It needs to be purged.'

Tommy's arms swung wide as he indicated the insane cache of weaponry. 'Not like this!'

Malcolm was unperturbed by Tommy's reaction. He always had that calm, semi charming aura about him that made you drawn to him even when alarm bells should have been ringing. He felt like a deer trapped in the headlights. 'I thought you said the Vigilante was a hero.'

Tommy shook his head, unable to quite believe that his Dad was trying to rationalise what he was doing. 'Taking out bad guys that are hurting people, yeah, but this isn't the same, is it?' He knew there was more to it. His Dad wasn't someone who would lurk in the shadows waiting for a mugger or a burglar to come along and take them out. That wasn't clever enough for him. He'd always operated on a different level, three steps ahead of everyone else, like a master chess player.

'You're right. This isn't the same. The whole city is plagued with a virus, one that spreads more and more each day. You have to wipe out a virus completely, all at once, to have any chance of stopping it spreading again.'

Tommy's eyes fell on the framed photograph and a surge of anger not dissimilar to his father's burst inside him. 'None of this is going to bring Mom back. She's gone, Dad. Every trace of her is gone now that you've shut down her clinic. Going around threatening people with bows and arrows isn't going to change any of that.'

He expected his Dad to frown in displeasure, or even be angry at him, but it was the cool regard he received that really made his blood turn cold.

'Your mother had a kind heart and this city betrayed that kindness. I should have seen it. I spent years trying to fix the Glades and make it safe but instead all we do is cut off one head and allow three more to appear in its place. Not for much longer though.' He paused to admire something on the table. Tommy assumed he was looking at the swords as they took pride of place but when he followed Malcolm's eyes they were dropped down at the table itself, down at a sheaf of papers with indiscernible drawings and a cross-hatch of lines. He appeared content with what he saw. 'A new dawn is coming, Tommy. For your mother, for both of us. All of that pain we suffered will be worth it.'

Tommy's frustration grew by the minute. 'Dad, you're not making any sense.' His instincts were screaming at him that something was very wrong. His Dad wasn't mad at all that he'd been down here, almost as if he'd planned it so that Tommy might find this place and know the truth. 'What's coming?'

Malcolm's mouth curled up at the edge in just the faintest hint of a smile. 'A plan to fix the Glades, once and for all. A chance to start over. That's how we honor Rebecca.'

Tommy shook his head violently. 'No. Whatever this is, it has to stop.'

'It can't be stopped. After tonight everything will be revealed.'

Tommy's mouth went dry. 'Tonight?'

Malcolm stopped toward him and grabbed him by the shoulders in a fatherly and reassuring embrace. 'Go home tonight. Invite Laurel for dinner. A quiet evening in.'

Tommy's resolve began to crumble even as his eyes fell once more upon the black leather costume and the deadly looking bow and arrows beside it. 'Promise me you're not going out there. Please, Dad.'

Malcolm smiled, squeezing his shoulder. 'I promise. After tonight, we won't need any of this.'