Story [Arrow] Die a Hero... (one-shot)

Universe: Arrow (Season 2 spoilers apply)
Characters: Slade Wilson, Bill Wintergreen
Genre: Action/Adventure, Introspection

* * *

Slade Wilson stood on a street corner in Sydney, hands shoved in his pockets, and glanced around impatiently. The young man's dark hair and neatly trimmed beard showed that he was self-conscious enough to groom himself, thus suggesting a kind of friendliness; but his attitude was all stand off, I'm trouble. Slade was an ASIS agent; being unfriendly came with the territory.

Slade's partner and best friend, Bill Wintergreen–Billy to his friends–was late. Billy and Slade were supposed to depart for an assignment in just hours, and Slade wanted to be at the airport with time to spare. Billy, of course, did not see things quite Slade's way.

Impatiently, Slade strode down the sidewalk. If he wasn't going to meet Billy here, maybe a walk could do him some good. As he passed an alley, he heard somebody crying out in despair. His first inclination was to pass on. He was an ASIS agent, not a cop. Street tussles were not his business. Nonetheless, he closed his eyes and froze.

Can I really let this happen?

He turned and walked down the alley. Behind a dumpster, a trio of guys were surrounding a young woman. She was being mugged–or worse. Somebody else in Slade's position probably would've pulled back, unable to take on three guys alone. Slade just grinned and tightened his fists, still inside his pockets.

"Leave her alone," he said softly.

The screaming stopped. The three guys turned and looked at Slade. One of them had a knife; the others had crowbars. Slade pulled his hands out of his pockets and loosened himself up, ready to leap into action.

"What'd you say, short stuff?" asked the guy with the knife.

Slade smirked. "I said...Leave. Her. Alone."

The guy chuckled. "Well, well. Looks like we've got a hero, here. Get him, boys."

The two guys with crowbars charged Slade. Slade lunged at the one on his left, grabbing his wrist and twisting. The guy yelped in surprise and dropped the crowbar. Slade brought up the heel of his hand into the guy's chin. He dropped back. The other guy swung his crowbar at Slade's head; Slade ducked under the blow and, while he was crouched, grabbed the dropped crowbar. He brought it back up, in between the guy's legs.

He wheezed in pain and dropped to his knees, releasing his crowbar. Slade caught it in his other hand. Now wielding both weapons, he faced the guy with the knife. The man sneered and charged at Slade, his knife held in an icepick position. Slade deftly stepped aside and swept one crowbar into the guy's gut, and then brought the other down on his back. The guy dropped.

"Get lost," Slade said.

The three thugs wasted no time rushing–limping, really–out of the alley. Slade dropped the crowbars and turned to the young woman behind him.

"Th-thank you..." she said.

"It's no problem," he replied. "Just doing my duty."

She nodded. "He was right, you know. He meant it as an insult, but you really are a hero."

Slade forced a smile. "That's too kind, ma'am."

He turned and walked out of the alley. Billy was sitting at a café nearby. He saw Slade and raised his mug in his direction. Slade rolled his eyes and strode over to Billy. The other agent chuckled as Slade sat down.

"You're late," he said.

Slade punched Billy's shoulder. "Come on, you moron, let's get on with it."

* * *

7 years later

Slade Wilson watched as his army of mirakuru-enhanced soldiers prepared for battle with Oliver Queen and his pack of friends. The mirakuru in his brain usually kept him focused solely on revenge on Queen, but once in a while he had a clear-headed moment, when a memory would surface.

You really are a hero.

"No, I'm not," Slade growled.

He pulled on his black-and-orange mask, reached for his sword and his pistol, and made ready to fight. No, tonight, he was not a hero. Maybe he'd never been, he'd just fooled that woman into thinking he was. Any old fool could rush into an alley and take down some two-bit thugs to save a woman's life. It did not make him a hero.

Oliver Queen had done it countless times. Oliver Queen was no hero. He was a murderer. Fine. So was Slade Wilson.

"Tonight," Slade hissed to himself, "Mr. Queen, you may think you are a hero. Fine. Every hero needs a villain." He strode forward. "That, I can be."

* * *

Title is based off this photo–a saying from one of the Nolan Batman movies.

Spoiler

 

Excellent action and I did enjoy the introspection. If a hero is one who does not stand by and do nothing but helps a person in distress, then, despite himself, Slade was a hero on that earlier occasion.