As Oliver patrolled the city, his suit alerted him to a robbery taking place down at the local research facility dedicated to genetics. Oliver shrugged and swooped down to see a pair of figures in front of the building. One was a woman, dressed in a silver jumpsuit and wielding a pair of pistols, which she kept trained on the SWAT team on the other side of several police cruisers. The other was... familiar. The man (and it was definitely a man from his broad shoulders) was completely hidden under a thick blue cloak wrapped about him. But his arm was visible. Oliver watched as it suddenly morphed into a large blade.
That's him. That's the man who crippled Renegade all those years ago. But why has he re-appeared 30 years later?
Below, his voice could be heard as he spoke to the police officers. His tone was deep and incredibly smooth. Quite the charming voice if not for his blatant villainy.
"Well, it seems we've found ourselves in the middle of quite the standoff here. Those badges on your chests can't be that important to you, can they? Your lives must have a greater value to you? Maybe you should put down your guns and go home, before this becomes violent."
Oliver decided to act immediately, and shot down to the ground at mach speed, smashing into the ground legs first. His cape dramatically fell down behind him, as the ground shook from his impact.
"Did you think you would be getting away without a fight?"
"Oh!" The cloaked man exclaimed in feigned surprise. His voice never really changed tone; rather, it grew to fit the current tense. "If it isn't my dearest friend Paragon. Tell me, how is the family?"
"Have we met?" Oliver asked.
"Hmm." The cloaked man said, pondering Oliver's naivete. "Yes, more than once actually, Langley Boy. That is, if it's really you under that helmet. Tell me, why has your voice gotten higher? Are you an impostor, or has some other foe gotten a lucky shot?"
"Cut the games." Oliver growled. His helmet retracted, revealing his face underneath, save for a domino mask obscuring the important features.
"So it is you, then. Good." The man replied. "But, something's different. My curiosity is begging me to ask you, what ever happened to that scar across the bridge of your nose? And why isn't your hair about, say, a shade darker? But, wait! If memory serves, your hair was significantly lighter the first time we met. I remember what it looked like, splattered with the blood of your dear mentor."
Oliver's only response was for his energy arm to conjure a massive club.
"Ooh, struck a sensitive area, have I?" the mysterious man asked. "No matter, I think I've figured out your little mystery, Paragon. You're from the past. Or you've otherwise de-aged yourself and forgotten all our dear little adventures through the years. Either way, it's apparent you've forgotten all about them, so I suppose an introduction is in order." He bowed and said "I am..." he retracted the bow, and continued "...actually, I think I shall save my name for another time. I'd really rather not spoil the surprise for you, and oh it will be a grand surprise, trust me. Until that time, though, I shall have to deal with you personally."
His blade arm lifted up to his face, revealing a striking yellow eye under the hood. "Shall we begin?"
Oliver hefted his club with his other hand. "Gladly."
