Dedicated to @NewYorkDoll and @CamrynKissel for their kind feedback on my Arrow stories! It truly means a lot to me :)

Author's Note: I know that this particular scene isn't the most important of ones from the series, or rather, even the season, but I just really wanted to recreate it. The way this brutal fight sequence between Oliver and Ricardo was choreographed is just so phenomenal due to both its intensity and fast movements.

Hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it :)

"For money, man may do anything to achieve goals," Anatoly thought to himself as he walked beside two of Ricardo's rugged, armed men, escorting Oliver Queen to Ricardo's secret base under Star City. The hero's rusted silver chains dragged noisily against the bloodied concrete ground that lay beneath their feet, filling the Russian man's ears with a distant ringing.

Anatoly wasn't a bad man, merely someone who was working towards the greater good, or rather, his greater good. He and Oliver even used to be friends back during their days of Bratva brotherhood, going as far as to lie to the dangerous organization they swore allegiance to for one another. But the years had long since past those days of Russian beer and sarcastic advice, Oliver had made sure of it.

I am merely repaying a friend for his deed of exiling me from our brotherhood.

Anatoly reached the training room's gray door, his hand idling on its metal handle.

He nodded for the two men to take the black bag off Oliver's head to which they reluctantly complied.

"You stop here," Anatoly instructed the men, nodding for them to leave him alone with their prisoner.

They once again nodded, their faces emotionless as they marched off to resume their usual posts as guards of Ricardo's secrets.

Diaz must pay them good money for my brothers rarely listened to commands back home.

"You say I betray myself working with Diaz? I think much on this," commented Anatoly, his hands folded over one another with a sort of elegance that could only be reached by a man of his dignity.

"And?" Questioned Oliver, his left eyebrow raised curiously, though the rest of his face showed very little interest in the matter at hand.

Anatoly had always admired his old friend's ability to hide his emotions, though he knew what dangers Oliver's honest self could bring to the people who hurt him.

"You may be right. But I realize, moment things went wrong, last year when I trusted you to bring me into city. So, if I betray myself, Kapushion, it is because you, you betrayed me first," stated Anatoly, hurt ringing throughout his cold toned voice.

If never trust ally again, then never be betrayed again for if I betray myself, at least the direct consequences of my actions will be known.

Oliver just stared Anatoly in the eyes, having heard so many of his past friends say similar things before trying to kill him.

"C'mon, Diaz is waiting," commanded Anatoly as he unlocked the rust-covered door, guiding Oliver inside.

He took a seat on a small metal bench near the door as the pair awaited the Dragon's arrival, thoughts still racing through the Russian man's mind.

Revenge is always right thing to do. Bratva taught me that. Only, I am not Bratva anymore, am I?

"Your friends just blew up twelve million dollars in next-gen fire power," roared Ricardo as he threw open the gray entrance, a look of pure fury covering his bruised face.

A man of his caliber was not to be trifled with, especially after such an important loss as the one he'd just suffered.

He thoughtlessly tossed his beat-up cell phone into Anatoly's arms before storming over to Oliver, their eyes immediately locking.

I am honestly interested to see where this goes.

"I don't have any friends," replied Oliver plainly, his body seeming still despite the harsh man's presence.

Ricardo nodded, understandingly before punching Oliver directly in the jaw.

Oliver reeled backwards, his eyes shutting tightly for a few seconds as he spit out a tooth before returning to his former straight posture.

"It tickles," shrugged Oliver, unfazed by his enemy's blow.

Why must you tempt fate so often, Oliver?

"You see this man? Savior of this city," started Ricardo as he tapped one of his thugs on the shoulder, casually.

The man shuffled slightly in his spot, his hands still gripping his gun tightly. Nothing scared a hired hand more than facing the wrath of their employer who'd bent nearly every city official to his will, a concept that heavily attributed to Anatoly's opinion on the subject of right and wrong, too.

"It's pathetic," spat Ricardo, disappointingly shaking his head.

His arm shot outward, colliding harshly with Oliver's ribs as the latter groaned in pain, dropping down onto his knees.

"I feel like you can do better than that," admitted Oliver, his teeth shining red with the blood of his injuries.

Ricardo quickly punched Oliver in the face, huffing in anger as he watched his enemy reel in pain from the powerful blow.

"Stop it! This is pointless," reasoned Anatoly, taking a few steps forward so as to try and intervene before Ricardo injured Oliver further.

Ricardo rolled his eyes, circling around his enemy like a lion trapping its prey.

"You said that you had plan for him, that you need him alive, no?" Confirmed Anatoly as he adjusted the cuff of his dark gray tuxedo sleeve.

Ricardo paced behind Oliver's back, not giving his captive the pleasure of seeing his enemy's face.

I always am forced to work with men who use such brutal methods of success.

"In Bratva, we have ways of dealing with conflict like this. We fight with honor, we don't do this," explained Anatoly as both men's eyes fell upon the panting Oliver, his head still hung high above his bruised body.

"You want me to fight em fairly?" Questioned Ricardo, agitatedly.

Anatoly said nothing, preferring the choice of listening to the man's speech, rather than begging to get beaten down like the Dragon's past allies.

"Life ain't fair," finished Ricardo as he arrogantly looked down at the blood dripping from Oliver's lips.

"Every drop of blood drawn from grown man shows your weakness," stated Anatoly, bravely.

Ricardo slowly turned around, placing his calloused hand on his ally's shoulder.

"I'm not weak," whispered Ricardo, his quiet voice cutting through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

Anatoly breathed carefully, staring the man in his furious eyes.

This, truly scary man.

"Let's go," demanded Ricardo, impatiently as he threw his slick black jacket across the room.

Anatoly quickly unlocked Oliver's heavy-chained wrists, the prisoner gritting his teeth slightly at the pain of their removal.

"Thank you," whispered Oliver so as not to alert his enemy to their conversation.

"I not do this for you," responded Anatoly, sternly before resuming his place near the door.

Oliver pushed himself onto his feet, his muscular arms contracting as he turned around to face the so-called "Dragon."

"Let's make things interesting. I put you on the ground, you leave Star City forever. You put me on the ground, I do the same," offered Ricardo, his arms held carelessly at his sides.

Oliver stared intently at the man opposite him, seemingly processing his every word, carefully.

Good to know Oliver thinks, on the occasion.

"That fair enough for you?" Asked Ricardo, condescendingly.

"Yeah," replied Oliver as he marched towards the tattoo-ridden man, determination covering his bearded face.

Anatoly remained still, his eyes watching the two men carefully for either outcome would greatly affect him.

Both men walked onto a small blue mat surrounded by various training tools such as silver weights and racks of knives. Long twine ropes hung loosely from the tall white walls, creating a makeshift arena for the fighters. One armed man stood on both sides of the mat, only Anatoly knew better than to expect Ricardo to need help.

"Think you're so tough? You spent five years in hell? I was born in it," remarked Ricardo, his fist releasing a clean punch to the right side of Oliver's face.

Oliver didn't even move, countering the heavy attack with a blow to his enemy's rib cage.

Ricardo easily grabbed Oliver's shirt, pressing his hand firmly into his left shoulder blade before punching him repetitively in the face.

Oliver ducked to the right, avoiding the villain's third blow before performing a simultaneous punch and jump-kick to his side, his fist already covered in his enemy's blood from the heavy-handed attack. Ricardo barely moved an inch, both fighters immediately going into another freezy of punches against one another. Each blow seemed to hit harder than the last, both opponents panting strongly after the first several attacks.

If Oliver's head hadn't still been ringing from the injuries prior to their brawl, he may have been able to block the harsh blow to both his face and stomach before being kicked onto his bruised knees.

Ricardo swiftly wrapped his arm around Oliver's neck, using as much force as he could to push him towards the ground.

You fight well, Diaz.

But after several seconds of struggling, Oliver was finally able to break free of his enemy's hold, flipping Ricardo onto the now blood splattered mat that acted as their battlegrounds. Ricardo groaned in anger before grabbing Oliver's left arm and roughly snapping his wrist in the palm of his hand.

"Ahhhh," cried the hero through gritted teeth as he dodged the man's next attack, landing a heavy punch to the right side of his face.

A stream of vibrant red blood flew from Ricardo's open mouth as he panted for breath, pushing himself back onto his worn feet.

Both men immediately reentered their brutal duel, Ricardo violently grabbing Oliver's right arm before hitting him in the shoulder. Oliver huffed in pain before placing both hands on Ricardo's shoulder, punching him in the chest with as much force as he could muster in his exhausted muscles. The villain growled, striking the hero in the head so hard that he stumbled off his feet, his blood-strained face hitting the blue mat with nearly as much force as he was struck with.

Oliver quietly moaned in pain as he struggled to get back on his feet, his enemy slowly becoming one with his blurred surrounding. Ricardo saw an opening to kill his prey, grabbing the hero by the back of his gray, blood-stained shirt and throwing him across the room. Oliver felt the white metal wall dent on impact, sending a powerful force of agony shooting up his spine before he crashed shoulder-first into the ground. Several wooden sticks went rolling across the room, one slowly hitting against the tip of Anatoly's shiny black dress shoe.

Ricardo looked down at his enemy for several seconds, taking in the face he'd so easily break with merely one more action.

I must say that it will be a shame to see Oliver go down so violently, though he is only getting sins for the crimes he commits.

Oliver felt the metallic feeling of cold blood against his cut up lips, the raw palms of his hands pressed firmly into the ground. His eyes quickly followed Ricardo's leg as he swung out at his enemy and at just the right time, Oliver ducked, grabbing the mob boss' leg and flipping him onto the ground. Ricardo held his arms in front of his face, helplessly as Oliver threw punch after punch into the man's body, each one fueled by more anger than the last.

Everyone was counting on him to save the city from the criminal purge Ricardo Diaz had forced upon it. Every breath he breathed, every punch he threw, further ensured the safety of his people, his friends, and most importantly, his family.

Anatoly watched carefully as Oliver wrapped his left arm around Ricardo's neck, his muscles bulging from beneath his skin-tight shirt.

"Yield!" Commanded Oliver, both men's faces now bright red from exhaustion.

Yes, Anatoly was sure that he would always prefer to be the messenger rather than the warrior.

If I am to get hurt either way, why must we all make it more painful?

"Yield or I'll break your neck!" Yelled Oliver as he felt Ricardo's grip loosen against his arm, the latter's face quickly turning purple from lack of oxygen.

Ricardo inconspicuously pulled a knife from within his pocket, its shiny metal handle illuminating across the dimly lit lights. Anatoly shifted uncomfortably in place, knowing exactly what the man was about to do.

Ricardo swiftly whipped his arm around, stabbing Oliver harshly in the side of the stomach.

Oliver immediately let out a loud moan of pain, his cries reverberating around the small room as Ricardo slowly slid out of his enemy's grasp.

No, Diaz said to have honor!

Ricardo pushed himself onto his beaten feet, panting heavily with each step.

"It's like I said, life ain't fair," stated Ricardo as he looked down at the injured hero, Oliver's face covered with speckled spots of dark maroon blood.

"You have failed this city, and I'm gonna take it back," breathed Oliver before his body finally succumbed to the pain, his head dropping back down onto the mat.

Ricardo smirked knowingly at his enemy, his knife clattering loudly to the ground as he waltzed back over to Anatoly.

"Maybe he won't be so smart when he wakes up," remarked Ricardo, sneeringly before limping out of the room, the dragon tattoo on his neck waving back and forth proudly as he left the bloodied battlegrounds.

Anatoly said nothing, his words stuck in his throat like the stale food he'd been served in Russian prison.

Did my revenge make me so blind as not to notice the real men who stood before me?

Thirty Minutes Later...

Oliver leaned up against the prison's cold brick wall, a single white light shining through the only crack in the room's structural support beams. Despite the excruciating pain pounding throughout his entire body, everything felt strangely numb. Losing was not a common concept for the hero, especially when it came to protecting his family. Nor was it one he would ever accept.

He sat alone in the darkened room for what felt like hours, his hands still stackled in metal chains, in both senses of the word. Normal handcuffs would never hold a man of his skill, though Ricardo had clearly proven how well he knew Oliver. Even blinking seemed to make his hands shake slightly, his fingertips still numb as ice.

The hanging light fixture above his head suddenly flickered on as the heavy metal door was pushed open. His bruised eyes were met with the sight of his old friend/captor, Anatoly, his small frame dressed in a nice purple and gray business suit.

"Thank you," breathed Oliver, his voice raspy from the various injuries that had been dealt to his throat.

Anatoly slowly walked over to the prisoner, his slick black dress shoes clicking loudly around the hollow room as he gripped a few gauze pads and a spray in his right hand.

"Bandages least I could do," commented Anatoly, his hands once again folded over one another.

He really does look quite bad, after all.

"Not for the bandages, Anatoly. Thank you for giving me the chance to take out, Diaz," stated Oliver, sighing deeply as he rested his head against the wall, regretfully.

"What makes you think that's what I was doing?" Questioned Anatoly, defensively.

Oliver just looked up at Anatoly, a knowing expression covering his battered face.

"Maybe I want to see for myself," muttered Anatoly, vaguely looking down at the ground.

Though he may not have had as much of an ego as Diaz (Or Oliver, for that matter), he took pride in making the right decisions... most of the time.

"See what?" Asked Oliver, his eyes still searching Anatoly, curiously.

"Which one of you had honor," answered Anatoly, plainly as he stared down at Oliver.

Oliver let a small half-smile slip onto his face, nodding thankfully before his eyes shifted back to the ground.

"Just like you wanted, no? You allow yourself be captured so, bring you to Diaz," reasoned Anatoly as he bent down next to his old friend.

"You know, I just thought I could count on you to be the man I knew. That man was my friend," admitted Oliver as his blue eyes looked into Anatoly's, a tiny bit of hope glimmering beneath their many depths of pain.

Anatoly nodded his head, a look of mutual respect covering his weary face, too.

Having family does change man very much. I guess I am lucky to have family like crazy American, too, then.