Dark Knights on Dark Nights

[Oliver Queen]

The sky was black as coal; not that you could tell this deep in the canyons of Gotham's streets, walls of glass and steel and stone climbing upwards to compress the the night into a jet ribbon, peppered with the faint charcoal streaks of clouds. Artificial lights cast a strange golden hue across the sidewalks and skyscrapers, transforming buildings that by day seemed pale, grey, and corporate into a dim, shadowy city that felt old beyond it's years. Between them, the narrower side streets and the gaping entrances of hotels and retail stores loomed like ominous caves, casting out a warning to any who might be foolish enough to wander into them.

Not that the main streets of Gotham were much safer: not at night, at any rate. Despite what the politicians and the bureaucrats claimed, this was a city ruled by crime: a place where rules and laws were as flexible and fragile as the paper bills they were bribed away with. Corruption and complacency riddled the city's infrastructure like corrosive decay, and as one journalist for the local tabloids had so elloquently put it, crime was far more organised than the institutions in place to prevent it. Criminals were getting bolder, and the boys in blue were as good as useless to stop the boys in orange, sprung from Blackgate Penitentiary by the mob, and recruited as henchmen by the masked and the made-up psychos who would wreak havoc until someone took the law into their own hands, and delivered them to a padded cell in Arkham.

It was a sad truth, but it wasn't the police or the politicians that kept Gotham safe: it was it's own private army of costumed dark knights.

Through the streets rolled a car as dark as the night, stalking through murk with silent purpose. Tinted windows hid the contents from view, but from within a set of keen eyes stared out at the city with single-minded purpose. Those eyes were far older than the face into which they were set: they were the eyes of a warrior, who had seen far worse than he cared to, and done far worse than he dared to. Oliver Queen glanced at the mirror, a frown tugging at his brow as something he didn't quite recognise stared back.

The car came to a halt, turning a little towards the curb. He drew in a breath, steadying his mind, and mustering his resolve. Fingers closed around the handle, the door swung open and, exhaling slowly, Oliver launched himself into the fray.

* * *

A volley of camera flashes exploded towards him, and Oliver almost recoiled from the barrage of light being thrown in his direction. The crowd that had waited in near-silent anticipation as the limosine approached unleashed a hail of questions, voices clamouring over each other to be heard by Gotham's newest eledgable batchelor acquisition. A practiced smile climbed to his face, as he struck the poses he was expected to, waved at the higher-paid reporters like he was supposed to, and made his way along the red carpet into the five-star hotel and casino that Wayne Enterprises had booked for it's latest fundraiser.

"I owe you a million," Oliver muttered under his breath through pearly whites clenched behind his false smile. "But this makes a million minus one."

[Bruce Wayne]

The party was in full swing; the Black Eyed Peas were tearing up the stage, the booze was flowing from endless barrels and bottles, augmented by a real ale bar supplied by a family-owned brewery in Yorkshire, England, there was a buffet of fine cuisine as well as party favourites and finger food to suit all tastes - Bruce had just polished off his second Whopper and was now strutting his stuff with a trio of voluptuous redheads. It had taken every ounce of persuasion and guile to convince Alfred to wear a dinner jacket and relax for once. Bruce had still been giggling in the car on the way here, almost four hours after he'd watched as Alfred fretted over what to wear. He looked like a fish out of water at first but once he'd hit the wine, he was actually enjoying himself; swaying to and fro, waving his hands from side to side pleasantly as he spoke with the mayoress and her mother. One topic of conversation was the spending cuts the previous city administration had made, which the new Mayor was trying to put right with what funds they had.

There were many places in Gotham as lively as this ballroom tonight. But the said thing was that only a small selection were able to enjoy them; an elite consisting of celebrity, old money and high-profile business were the patrons. A stark contrast to the Average Joe struggling to make ends meat, or blow it all trying their luck on the slots and card tables on the other side of the manned doors. But that's what tonight was all about, Bruce thought to himself as he eyed the doors. Soon, a face that he hadn't seen in far too long was ushered through, finally free of the flashes and yelps from journalists who weren't allowed in for tonight's benefit. Cut off by the burly doormen, they hoisted camera's high to snap one last shot as Oliver bid them farewell to join in the fun.

He'd barely stepped inside as Bruce appeared by his side and grabbed his hand to shake it while wrapping his other arm over his shoulder in a hug.

"It's good to see you Ollie. How about a drink!?" he said, signalling the waiter who promptly arrived with two Vespers on a silver tray.

[Oliver Queen]

The prospect of a drink was certainly appealing, though Oliver was a little thrown off by the combination of Bruce's enthusiastic greeting, and the haste with which the doorman had dragged him away from the throng of in some cases fairly attractive reporters that were clamouring for some sort of quote from what the Gotham Globe was apparently calling "The Queen Machine", if today's headline was anything to go by.

Ollie managed to lever himself free enough to snatch at one of the offered drinks, and paused for a moment as his eyes scrutinised the contents. "I realise that I keep ribbing you about your lack of pop culture knowledge, Bruce," he said slowly, a slight hint of tease in his tone, "And I am proud of you for actually having watched Casino Royale -"

He raised the glass to his lips, swallowing a sip before flashing Bruce a look. "But if the drinks are some ellaborately staged stunt to make me think you're cool, I'm afraid it's not gonna work." A wry grin broke on his face. "It's far too late for that - I know you too well."

[Bruce Wayne]

Bruce narrowed his eyes an frowned slightly as he stooped towards his friend and, in his best impersonation of Mr Burns...

"Well you know how it is old boy - one must at least attempt to move with the times!"

He downed his drink with a smirk before lightly punching Ollie in the arm.

"So tell me...what's it like being back home after so long?". He signalled the waiter for another round of drinks before waving him back to the bar, instead easing his friend in that direction. He made eye contact with his female companions and pointed towards the bar too.

[Oliver Queen]

Home. For some reason, that sounded like an odd descriptor for Gotham City. Sure, his parents had sent him to school here; that's when he'd met Bruce. And after they'd died, his Uncle Bill - who wasn't actually his uncle, but rather his mother's cousin; but "Uncle" had been a far easier concept for his infant mind to cope with than a second cousin once removed or somesuch - had moved Queen Industries to Gotham. And now, Oliver lived there, crashing in Bruce's penthouse until he could find a place of his own. But Gotham didn't really feel much like 'home'.

But then, where did? He may have been born in Star City, but Oliver could barely remember the place. And with the military he'd been stationed at various military bases; deployed to overseas theaters; he'd never been anywhere long enough for it to feel like home.

What's it like being home after so long?

"It's weird, honestly," he admitted, with a shrug. "My old life isn't here for me to slot back into, and I've not really been around long enough to craft myself a new one. I'm a bit lost. Feels like limbo."

In an instant, his tone changed, the smile returning back to his face. "Nothing that a bar and a few blondes won't fix, mind."

[Bruce Wayne]

"Well don't worry about a thing, Ollie. The penthouse is yours for as long as you need it."

Bruce knocked back another Vesper as his fiery companions joined them, one draping an arm over his shoulder and rubbing his lapel.

"Ollie, I'd like to introduce Jennifer. And the lovely ladies who...have decided to help themselves to the content of the bar are Louise and Crystal. They're from London. Jennifer's old man is an architect. He's drawing up the final plans for the new medical centre we're opening up in Gotham. He's around here somewhere. Louise and Crystal are Jennifers friends who I invited along for an extended vacation with her and her father..."

The other two girls joined them, carrying a bottle of bubbly each. They stood either side of Ollie and both offered him a glass of champagne.

"Louise is a student of poetry - she's studies everything from Shakespeare to Sylvia Plath and even my favourite - Poe - and she wants to be a teacher. Crystal here...now I still don't know her real name but she wants to be an actress and I've arranged a meeting with Alex Frake as he has a role in a short film due out next year."

Bruce stepped between Louise and Ollie, putting his arm around him and leaning in close, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Now I've been telling these two girls all about you since they got here. But sadly they just didn't believe me - said it was too good to be true. They uh...they wanted to find out for themselves."

With a wink and a sly grin, Bruce stood upright and took Jennifer by the hand, sliding away slowly.

"I'm gonna go do the rounds. I need to find Jim Gordon and his lovely wife. If you see Alfred at all and he's carrying anything that looks even remotely like a tray, or he offers to get anybody anything - break his legs for me! I told him he's a guest here whether he likes it or not!"

[Oliver Queen]

It was like those first few years after school, all over again. Both Bruce and Oliver had found themselves old enough to drink, and determined to dive into the swarms of women flocking towards the rich boys. Neither of them was entirely sure how, but a routine had established: Bruce would swoop in and disappear with whichever one took his fancy, leaving Oliver to select from the best of the rest. Being a typically indecisive sort of guy, he usually wound up with more than one; after all, it would have been rude to exclude people, right?

Ollie took both of the proffered champagne glasses, and knocked back both in quick succession. A sigh of satisfaction escaped him as he set both back down on the bar, a few vague hand signals gestured to one of the waiters to follow him with more glasses, and a full bottle.

"Sure thing, Bruce," he aknowledged, a smile beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth. Until that moment, he hadn't realised that Old Alfred was there at all, but he was glad to hear that Bruce was bullying him into one of his reluctant days off. Growing up, Oliver had spent time at Wayne Manor, and had always had a soft spot for the barmy old Englishman.

Stretching his arms out, one behind either girl, he allowed the smile to settle fully across his features as he gently led them away in search of a relatively quiet corner. "So, ladies," he said, suave charm sliding into his voice with ease. "Tell me everything that Bruce has said about me, so I can give you the real facts. He always was prone to understatement..."

[Barbara Nolan]

Standing near the wall by the bar, unnoticed by the vast majority of the party goers, Barbara Gordon crunched on a hors dourves, her side swept bangs falling into her eyes. She was holding a glass of champange, but she'd barely sipped it, and to be honest felt very out of place.

Hanging out with Aunt Barbara and Uncle Jim was out of the question, though. She hadn't been away for two years to come back and hide behind them some more. In fact, she'd begged to come, even finding her adoptive parents another babysitter to make sure they couldn't refuse, and was watching everything going on around her with eagle eyes, waiting for something mind blowing to happen that she could report for her blog, Gotham's Dark Corners.

In fact, not too far away stood Bruce Wayne, of Bruce Wayne Enterprises, and Oliver Queen, former heir apparent of Queen Industries, two young men with all together too much good looks and money between them. Even though she was at least ten years younger than either of them, she viewed them as foolish and herself as wise, which probably was a fair assumption given the amount of alcohol she'd seen them down and the bimbos they were keeping company with.

Mr. Wayne excused himself from the little group and moved off to mingle, passing right by Barbara but paying her no mind. She looked down as he walked by, and then couldn't decide whether to follow him, or to stay and see what the Queen Machine was going to do next.

[Bruce Wayne]

As he shifted through the crowd, Bruce ran into Alfred who was looking rather tipsy.

"Oh, Master Wayne! This is June and her daughters Peggy and Susanne. June and I went to grammar school together in London. Peggy and Susanne both attend Metropolis University but they're expressed a wish to take their internship and possible residency at Gotham General."

"Consider it done! Ladies forgive my rudeness but I'm actually looking for someone in particular. Alfred, have you seen Jim or his wife around here?"

"Not since they arrived, sir. But their daughter, Barbara, is over in that corner." He pointed across to the other side by the far end of the buffet table.

"Thanks Alfred. I'll see you in a while. Oh, and I hope you're enjoying yourself!"

He did move to respond, but instead was interrupted by one of the most innocent hiccups ever to come from a man in a tuxedo.

"Good. See you later." Bruce and Jennifer laughed as they left. Jennifer returned to her fathers side as Bruce approached the lonely-looking girl.

"Now what's a good-looking girl like you don't all the way over here when the party's over there."

She seemed somewhat startled mixed with glee as he held out an open hand.

"It's okay. I may be Bruce Wayne but I'm not gonna bite. You're Jim's daughter, Barbara - right?"

[Barbara Nolan]

Barbara nearly choked on the cheese straw she was munching as Bruce Wayne walked near her and then actually turned and started talking to her. Startled, she covered her mouth with the napkin in her hand for what she hoped was a demure cough, and then transferred the champagne to that hand before reaching out to shake Wayne's hand.

"Yeah, I mean, yes." She did a quick closed mouth swipe of her tongue over her teeth to make sure there weren't any bits of appetizer stuck between them, and then smiled. "Uh, yes. Barbara Gordon." They were frozen like that for a long moment, and then she realized she was still holding his hand, and quickly extricated herself.

"Quite an event you have going on, Mr. Wayne."

[Bruce Wayne]

"Yeah, it's a good turn-out. I'm glad your folks showed up. I was worried Jim would find some excuse to avoid tonight - you know how he is. I guess your mother put her foot down, huh!"

Bruce reached across her to the buffet table and grabbed a handful of cocktail sausages on sticks. "Rumour has it you've recently returned from Metropolis University. Must have been one hell of a reference to get you into that place." He paused for thought. "I'm certainly not doubting your grades - Jim's told me how bright you are, but still! On a cops salary, even for a Commissioner, that's a tough deal. You must have really impressed them..."

He popped a sausage into his mouth and pulled out the cocktail stick, using it to steal a small pickled onion from Barbara's paper plate with a grin. "What did you study?" he enquired, before the onion disappeared and he dropped the cocktail stick onto the empty plate. He took it from her and placed it on the buffet table, then took her hand and led her to the bar.

"...and what are you drinking?"

She eyed the half-full champagne glass in her hand.

"No - I mean what are you drinking? C'mon, I'm buying." As Bruce placed both hands flat on the bar, the waiter seemed to slide over, with a high brow and wide eyes in anticipation. He leaned forward as another song flowed over from the stage. "I'll have a round of Vespers, and a round of..." and Bruce looked across to Barbara. Both he and the barman were looking at her, eyes wide and a slight smile on their lips...

[Barbara Nolan]

"Uh," Barbara found her plate plucked from her palm and then she was following the ultra charming Bruce Wayne the few steps over to the bar while he kept up a stream of conversation meant to either put her at her ease or disarm her. Both, probably.

Blinking furiously while he looked at the bartender, she managed to recover from her initial shock. "I- I'll have a vodka cranberry." It was a girl drink, but then, she was a girl, so no shame, right?

"And I was studying computer science. Programming, IT, that sort of thing." She found her hands on her hips, a bad habit of hers, and tried to mask the gesture by smoothing the blue satin of her sheath dress. The asymmetrical neckline of the dress was striking, or so she'd thought in the mirror before leaving, and she'd left her neck free of adornment.

"As far as how I paid for it, I hardly think that is first conversation material, Mr. Wayne." Barbara found herself blushing suddenly at how that sounded. "I mean, not that I - I didn't... I had to work, but it was a real job. Not..." she stammered, mortified that he might think she was stripping or something equally awful to pay her way through school, and was only saved by the arrival of her drink.

[Bruce Wayne]

He couldn't help but laugh at the implication. An unashamed chuckle leapt out as he slipped the bartender a $100 bill hidden in his palm as he shook the old man's hand.

"Relax, Barbara. I wasn't interrogating you. I assumed it was a scholarship but the point is even for those fortunate enough to pay the tuition fees with their small change, the interview process for that place is rough. You should be proud that they accepted you. Believe it or not..."

His voice lowered as he took hold of one of the Martini glasses and pulled it towards his lips.

"I didn't get in." He quickly kissed the rim of the glass, taking a long, gradual sip leaving it half-full. He exhaled long and calmly before knocking the remaining alcohol back and placing the glass down.

[Barbara Nolan]

She took a deep breath, and rolled her shoulders slightly. "Sorry to hear it. I think I fit some 'poor child from Gotham' opening that they had, personally." Barbara sipped the martini in front of her experimentally, a smile softening her lips. "Hey, now that's not bad."

She looked out at the rest of the party as the Black Eyed Peas segued into another song. "Anyway, its behind me now." She tipped back the glass and finished off the drink, setting the empty glass on the bar.

"So, do you know my father well?" Barbara used the terms Dad and Uncle Jim nearly interchangeably. Her unusual circumstances as a child and her adoption by the Gordons at age 12 had made her identify him with both names. Usually she called him Uncle Jim, but she knew that he loved it when she called him Dad... and other people didn't necessarily know the ins and outs of their relationship, so she defaulted around strangers to calling him her father.

[Bruce Wayne]

"We've certainly worked with each other on several occasions. He always offers to provide some sort of police presence in addition to the private security firm owned by my company. You can always tell Jim's guys by the walkie-talkies in their shirt pockets - the private agents all wear white earpieces."

He went to take another drink but stopped.

"A few years back we worked together when Wayne Tech's computer processor fabrication lab was taken over by the Dragon gang. They were hoping to sell the latest run of chips to the Japanese. I worked with your father from the mobile HQ van in the parking lot three blocks away since I was the only person on hand who knew the building layout room by room. Under his command, the swat teams were able to get all my employees out safely and not a single gang member was killed. Since then I always go out of my way to make sure he and your mother are invited to whatever it is I'm cooking up next. It's the least I can do."

He put the glass down again, still not having touched it.

"But other than casual conversation and official business, we don't really talk. I don't know how he is at home but it's difficult to get a read on him. He's quite a private man. But one thing that's clear - he cares for the three of you very much. Faking his own death to protect them from that Joker character - even I was upset back then. I still remember how relieved I was when I saw - I mean read that he was alive..."

He laughed to himself, looking towards the floor for a moment, before returning his attention to Barbara.

"Your mother was so happy that day. But at the same time she could have killed him!" Finally taking a sip of his Martini, Bruce seemed to perk up again. "I like your mother. She's a lot of fun. She and Alfred get along like a house on fire. I dunno - maybe cooking and tidying up after the men in their lives is a common topic of conversation."

From the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed the doormen had finally closed the doors. All the guests had arrived.

"In some ways, I feel your father and I are similar. We certainly share the same ideals. He's a good man. I hope I can get to know him better some day." An elderly couple passed by, smiling politely to Bruce and Barbara. "Friends of my parents. I don't really remember them, but Alfred says they used to visit us at home quite regularly." He cleared his throat and shifted his weight slightly, keen to avoid the conversation settling on his mother and father.

"Are you and Jim very close?"

[Barbara Nolan]

Barbara felt her eyebrow raising as Bruce Wayne, card carrying Paparazzi Bait Party Boy, identified with her uncle as sharing the same ideals, but she managed to contain her skepticism. Being reminded of the scare several years before when they'd all thought he was dead wasn't pleasant either. Aunt Barbara had called her up while she was in class in high school, hysterical, wanting her to come back home immediately. With the two littles at home it had been really rough on her, but Barbara had barely wrapped her own head around him being dead when word had come back that Uncle Jim was alive after all.

"We are, although since he faked his own death..." Barbara sipped at her second drink, trying to order her thoughts. "Sometimes I wonder if I really know him. There's a lot going on in his head - still waters run deep or something like that. I know he wants to shield us from how bad things really are, but that bastard the Joker sort of slapped the city in the face."

[Aurora Qayin]

"Where do you think you are going, m'am?" a particularly tall, bald doorman growled and reached out to grab Aurora's shoulder and pull her backwards as she tried to meander around a heap of reporters cramming the entrance of the hotel. Security was tight to keep the common folk from the lustrous reception inside, allowing the dignitaries to mingle among themselves, like ice cubes in a glass of Macallan 1926 whiskey.

"Inside. I have to see Mr.Queen." Qayin retorted, pushing her oversized glasses back up her snub nose. A chilly breeze swooped through the main street, sending chills down her spine; the shabby black cardigan and a pair of gray corduroy pants she wore seemed like an appropriate attire when she left home this morning; one paid very little attention to styling when spending entire days in a labcoat.

"Oh, wouldn't you like that." replied the doorman mockingly, pointing a thumb over his shoulder - "The line's that way."
"My name is Aurora Qayin. I work for Wayne Technologies." the woman proclaimed with a timid, holding her access card and tapping against it - "See?"
The doorman let out an annoyed chuckle, shaking his head.
"At least a hundred other people work there. This is not a union Xmas party, kid. Take a hike." he said rather brashly, then sneered, crooked teeth showing -
"Unless you have an invitation."

Invitation... Invitation...
Aurora remembered being handed a piece of sleek cardboard written out with golden ink, presumably as a reward for her recent work in the laboratory. While other workers would probably piss in their pants from happiness when presented with such an honor, Qayin completely forgot about it. After a minute spent rummaging through the large bag hanging from her shoulder, she pulled out the invitation and handed it over.
"There. Now, may I go in?" she pleaded and crossed arms over her chest, shivering. Briefly scanning the cardboard under ultraviolet light, the doorman confirmed its genuineness. He raised a curious eyebrow -
"Hm, seems you are on the list. You do understand there is a particular dresscode..."
"I came here directly from work, no time to change... Besides, I don't think I even own a dress..." admitted the woman, biting her inner lip - "I'll be invisible and quick. I promise."

The thick, gold plated revolving door turned, letting Aurora into a world of wonder she never threaded before. A child of poor Albanian immigrants, she had only seen such grandeur and glamor in movies. Well-dressed members of the social elite glided across the lobby towards the ballroom, like parade ships sailing to a safe port; Aurora swallowed saliva and clutched onto the girdle of her bag, instantly regretting for not waiting for the morning briefing to report of the newest results. She then paced towards the entrance of the grandiose hall where the reception was held, the glimmer of affluence almost blinding her. Just as she managed to slip past a number of snobbish jet-set members who undoubtedly commented her appearance with a demeaning scoff plastering against their powdered faces, the woman accidentally ran into a waiter carrying an entire tray of champagne. Glass and metal smashed against black and white marble floor, golden liquid almost splashing against a few designer dresses and suits.

"Oh, I am so sorry..." Aurora apologized and stepped backwards, unintentionally knocking over another waiter carrying a platter of shrimp salad. One well seasoned crustacean flew up in the air, landing onto the head of a man who Aurora recognized as the CEO of Gotham Investment Bank. Qayin spun on her heel, trying to neutralize the situation, but it was too late. The music quieted down and Fergie leaned over to the microphone, while the spotlight found Aurora, illuminating her in the distant corner of the hall. When bright light almost fried her eyes out, every single person was looking in her direction.

"Hi, Fergie..." the scientist managed with an apologetic grin - "Uhm...sorry?"
The blonde smiled wickedly to the audience as the music picked up again, a familiar tune filling the hall.

"Shut up
Just shut up
Shut up..."

Just as swiftly as the light found her, it left where it came from, Black Eyed Peas continuing to jam one of their biggest hits. Seemingly, the crowd thought this was just part of the performance.
"That went well..." Aurora mused briefly, blinking at what just happened.

[Roman Sionis]

The crowds cheered as the Black Eyed Peas continued their set. His eyes remained locked on the other woman instead.

Masks. Everyone around was wearing one, and it grated at his nerves. The invitation had been a surprise, with the thick creamy envelope and his name written in fine ink. He honestly couldn’t tell whether it had been hand-written or printed.

Almost as surprising as getting the invitation was his actual arrival at the party. Parties were the sort of things his parents did, hobnobbing with other rich and famous people, wearing their masks of goodwill and cheer when they in fact hated everyone they met. Even each other; even their son. He pushed the bitter thoughts to the back of his mind and he watched the interesting woman standing there, looking as if she had no clue what she was even looking at, or where she was.

Bruce Wayne was speaking with a young woman off to the side by the bar, and Oliver Queen, whom he did not know, was seemingly trying to talk three different women into a deserted room at the same time.

He’d managed to deflect a number of conversations so far, but even though the desire to leave was strong, something was holding him back, and he was interested what was enough to keep him in the company of so many people he neither knew or cared about.

[Oliver Queen]

Though Oliver had seen the strange burst of activity from over near the stage, and was now watching the offending guest carefully, years of practice at functions such as this had left him well versed in the art of acting as if you were listening, when in fact you weren't paying the slightest bit of attention. Thanks to his efforts then, Oliver had managed to convince Louise and Crystal that he was listening intently to their fascinating tales of shopping escapades in Metropolis; or at least, had done a sufficient job of faking it to not offend either of them.

As his eyes caught enough of a glance at the source of the disruption however, recognition flashed in his mind. Though he hadn't met any of the staff at Wayne Technologies, he was certain that her face had been among those he'd seen when he'd read over the personnel files for the Applied Sciences team. He made some excuse to Louise and Crystal, before slipping away into the crowd of people, weaving his way through the high-class guests towards Miss One of These Things is Not Like The Others.

As he drew closer, he tried to wrestle some sort of useful facts about Andromeda - no, that wasn't right; Amanda? - and what she did for the company. Working for Applied Sciences probably meant that she was some sort of socially inept geek-genius, just like everyone else on his team: apparently Bruce had some twisted sense of irony going on, putting Oliver in charge of that bunch. Based on the typical stereotypes though, these people weren't the sort who'd come to these kind of social events, and given her interesting choice of attire she hadn't intended to be here. The situation grew more intreguing by the minute.

Finally Oliver managed to break free of the swarming sea of people and reached out, gently touching her arm. "Aurora, is it?" he said, keeping his tone as gentle and disarming as he could muster. "We haven't met yet, but I'm Oliver Queen..."

His voice trailed off, and he offered a smile. "Can I help? You look a little lost."

[Aurora Qayin]

The woman twitched, taking a step back, not used to such treatment from her superiors. Women working in Wayne Inc. were like sand panthers, armed with excessively short skirts, stiletto heels and red lipstick, waiting to strike at the right moment. Most of them had but one ultimate goal - Bruce Wayne - his immense wealth and stately appearance equally appealing. Aurora, on the other hand, immersed herself in her work, not really caring about ongoing dalliances happening around her.

"Mr. Queen." she echoed, clasping hands behind her back and dipping her head in utmost deference - "My name is Aurora Qayin, your junior engineer."
She skipped a lengthy introduction, assuming he already browsed through her picture-perfect file.
"I'm sorry to bother you here and now. But this couldn't wait."

Reluctantly, the brunette leaned in after looking around, somewhat worried look on her face.
"Do you think there's a place where we could talk a bit more...privately. I have something to show you." Aurora whispered, glancing sideways to assure herself nobody followed her to the hotel.