first act

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^ surprise!ok please don't kill me sorry I have been MIA, so many things have been going on, I'm like crumbling under stress and lately I haven't had time for anything but I told myself that I would finish this story because writing is something t...

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^ surprise!
ok please don't kill me
sorry I have been MIA, so many things have been going on, I'm like crumbling under stress and lately I haven't had time for anything but I told myself that I would finish this story because writing is something that I can't live without so I'm making time for it. hope it's not crap.

also, would a Q&A be something that you guys would enjoy doing?

if so, comment questions here-

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There were a few things Pippin found more entertaining than listening to Oliver drone on about team plans and how to execute them.

Counting all the cracks in the ceiling, for one.

The old warehouse that Oliver had rented for "such a time as this" was full of them. She didn't want to think at the moment, just completely wipe her mind but she couldn't.

The only thing flashing through her brain like an annoying pop up was the fact that Chekhov or Robert Hart as he was known as now, had something cruel up his sleeve and the team needed to stop him.

Then there was the fact that Barry was acting strangely. His hand  was still clutching hers, a tangle of fingers, but she could tell his mind was anywhere but here. Cisco wasn't cracking any jokes, only staring at Oliver without any twinkle in his eyes, Ronny and Caitlyn were just listening to Oliver talk, and Felicity was chewing on her lip.

The atmosphere was thick and heavy, it was fitting in a way. Their lab was ripped away from them, their equipment, their work. Now they were left with lumpy couches and a permanently smudged whiteboard that Oliver had hauled out from the warehouse's basement.

The worst part is they couldn't do anything about it, they were powerless.

She threw her head back on the lumpy pillow, staring even harder at the ceiling. If only they could make Chekov powerless, defenseless, weak. She wanted him to feel exactly as she felt, defeated. He'd been a step ahead of them the whole time, but there must be some way to bring him to his knees. To make him feel powerless. She glanced at a tired Barry that was trying to listen to Oliver. To make Chekov lose some sleep, lose somethi-

"Money." She blurted out, all tired eyes except for Barry's turning to her. "Take his money away. Without money, he has nothing." She mentally scolded herself for not thinking of it sooner, sitting up a little straighter. "He couldn't have his own personal army of bodyguards that way. Douchebags don't work for free."

"But where would he even get the money?" Caitlyn was the first one to speak, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

Pippin stiffened automatically, choking down a lump in her throats before answering. "Probably still has a fortune for the drug work he did for the Bratva." The words stuck in her throat, leaving a nasty aftertaste. Barry's lips pressed gently against her knuckles, his thumb rubbing the sensation into her skin.

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