Curiosity Killed the Cat

Though it's below freezing in Starling City, Oliver perches on the breezy rooftop without feeling the cold night air. It should bother him, but after ten years away from home and eight of them on the island, he doesn't even really feel it anymore. It could be years of conditioning, and he'd like to tell himself that, but more likely it's the nature of what Shado turned him into three years ago.

When she told him how she'd saved his life, Oliver thought she'd damned him to a fate worse than death. But despite his original fears, being a vampire barely affects his life on a day-to-day basis. He doesn't notice anyone else's blood, other than a slight pulse in his ears, and he only has to feed once week or so unless he's injured. When he's thirsty, he doesn't feel compelled to bite people. The first time he was home, he hesitated around the Queen family silverware, but, to his surprise, it didn't burn him. He sunburns a little faster than he used to, but other than that, sunlight doesn't affect him, either.

But the biggest problem is immortality, a complication he'll have to deal with in a decade or so.

Though his newfound vampire situation has its difficulties—like trying to steal blood from the hospitals or blood banks—it's mostly a manageable situation. He stores extra blood in the fridge in the basement for his nightly activities as the Arrow, and if he plans to be out in the sun for too long, he has to use a high-SPF sunblock. Hiding his fangs is a constant chore, making sure not to smile too wide or yawn without covering his mouth. Not being able to sleep is a little annoying at times, even though it gives him more time to try and save the city in the only way he knows how. And having to ask permission to enter non-public places is a pain in the ass, but it's far better than the black scorch mark that appears down his bicep for a few weeks.

The real challenge, however, are the damn cats. Ever since Shado turned him into a vampire, nocturnal predators tend to find comfort in his presence—and none more so than felines. He doesn't understand why or how, but since becoming a nocturnal predator himself, every cat with in a five hundred foot radius seems to find him fascinating. It was a problem that plagued Shado on the island, too; every big cat on the island found her and followed her around. And now, after the destruction that happened in the Glades while he was away, hundreds of cats roam the city, most nights making him feel like the Pied Piper of cats.

Even now he can feel one making a figure-eight around his legs, and when he looks down, a kitten that might be a calico under all the grime is rubbing up against his boots. Sighing, he picks up the little feline and places it at arm's length on the rooftop before whispering to it, "Go on—get out of here." Unsurprisingly, it does; they seem to understand what he wants them to do, even if they don't understand his words. Since becoming a vampire, he hasn't been scratched by a cat, and even once, a leopard curled up next to him on a particularly cold night when he was alone and injured.

But the great thing about being immortal is that he's in absolutely no hurry for the monster in the alleyway to move into position beneath him while closing in on the woman he's cornered. The scum lurking three stories below Oliver is a predator he doesn't allow to hunt in his city.

Finally when the mark moves into position, Oliver leaps off the building, landing just behind the man he means to stop. Before the monster can even move, the vigilante pins him to the opposite wall, calling over his shoulder to the woman, "Go." She does as he asks, which allows him to turn his attention to the bastard before him, who is already shaking in his hands. "I'm going to let you live tonight," he promises under the deep voice modulator, "but if you ever try to hurt another woman again, I'm going to pin your heart to this wall." He's met with shaking. "Have I made myself clear?"

His answer comes in the way of vigorous nodding, and Oliver releases his grip on the scum. "Now get out of here before I change my mind," he declares, and the would-be rapist need not be told twice. By the time he hits the main street, he's already screaming, the noise shrill and high pitched. The vampire can't help but smile, not caring if he flashes his teeth while under the hood. At least the mask gives him some anonymity.