Technical Assistance

Chapter 5: Electronic Repair

Felicity sits on her couch next to her dog with a Frankenstein computer that she's trying to rebuild, this time watching the detective duo trying to outsmart their rival. She agrees with the rival's assessment that how every fairytale needs a good villain, but then she thinks about the situation in Starling City with the Vigilante. Is he the hero or the criminal? It's a question she's been asking herself for a very long time, and one she can never seem to answer. It bothers her, though, because she believes puzzles are meant to be solved, and the Vigilante is definitely an unsolvable case at this point. She doesn't have enough information yet.

Still, it's a case she can't quite shake completely. She finds herself identifying more and more with the mysterious hooded crusader, and she tells herself he's not exactly the good guy in this scenario. Still, she sees that he's taking down a lot of really horrible human beings, and that comforts her. However, she thinks he could serve a greater good by taking on some of the lesser scum on the street—instead of just the big fish swimming around. But despite the fact that Starling's crime rates are down for the first time in years, she still reminds herself that he kills people. Bad people, sure, but people nonetheless, and she should remember that.

As if summoned by her thoughts, she hears the latch on the fire escape attempt to pull open, but it's stopped by the inside-only lock she's placed on it since her last visit by the Vigilante. She pauses the show and heaves a breath, suddenly feeling very put-upon. She's not sure she can handle a double life as a Vigilante's IT specialist, even to solve the puzzle that is the Vigilante. But he's a curiosity in her life, and Felicity doesn't like unsolved cases. With another sigh, she pulls herself off the couch and steps into her bedroom.

Her posture changes instantly when she sees the green hood masking his facial features, but Saphira charges into the room barking loudly. She restrains the dog and hushes her, seeing what the dog also notices, but she opens the door anyway, brandishing the baseball bat. "I want to know what you're doing here and why you're wearing that," she demands with authority she doesn't feel. Her voice doesn't quaver, though, so that is something.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, but, even synthesized, the timbre of his voice is off, and it serves to confirm what she already believed to be true. He steps into the room, but she holds the baseball bat as if her life depends on it. She thinks for a moment how long it would take her to go for her phone in the meantime.

She rolls her eyes, putting one hand on her hip. "I may be blonde," she informs him, "but I'm not that blonde. I'm talking about the fact that you aren't the Vigilante," she says flatly, "but I think you already knew that. You gave it a good go—and you could probably fool anyone else, but not me. You're taller than he is, a little more muscular, and Saphira is going nuts when she made friends with the Vigilante last time. Should I call the cops now because you're a psycho copycat, or are you here on his behalf?"

A distorted chuckle answers, but Felicity doesn't understand what's so funny. "He said you'd know the difference," the not-Vigilante responds, seemingly amused. "He also told me that, when you did, to tell you he hasn't forgotten about that printer he owes you for the last time."

The tension leaves her body instantly, and the baseball bat falls against the wall. She decides to trust him, if only because of the statement that could only have come from the Vigilante himself. "Come in here, and we'll talk about it," she says, giving herself an odd sense of déjà vu. It was only a few weeks ago that he—the true Vigilante, she supposes—was standing in her bedroom and walking into her living area. They have to stop meeting like this.

He follows her into the living area, but he doesn't observe his surroundings the way his predecessor did, instead only focusing on her. "Tell me why you're here," she demands, still suspicious as she eyes him warily. He might have enough trust to parade around in another guy's green hood, but that doesn't mean she trusts him enough to be in her apartment. She thinks it's probably crazy that she's more comfortable with the Vigilante, but she knows that he, at least, isn't going to hurt her; he's had several opportunities, but each time she walks away unscathed. This guy, on the other hand, is a wild card.