The Queen Foundation was one of the premiere charities in the United States, offering help to all sorts of individuals, and it’s latest project was a hostel for the homeless - a place individuals could go for the first steps of turning their life around.
Of course, the hostel in question was full of some of society’s most troubled souls, their experiences sowing feelings of doubt, insecurity, fear and anger. Even now, being offered the world by The Queen Foundation, many were convinced it was a trap, that somehow it was all too good to be true, and the cost would be demanded of them in the future.
So it only took a little mental push from The Corruptor to one of two of the guests to start a disturbance. A disturbance that quickly escalated into a riot.
Smiling, he watched from the other side of the river as the building burned…
***
The following evening...
Oliver Queen did his best to smile. After all, the Star City fundraiser was an important annual event, the gala raising millions upon millions of dollars for the unfortunates left behind. He had done his best to address the press about the Queen Hostal riot on his way in. But now, he had to play the role of the businessman, asking for money.
His looked around - the hall seemed emptier than other years. Had the riot put people off attending? All the tickets had sold out, so at least they got the money from that. He sighed. Something told him tonight was going to be a very long night.
“Mr Queen! Mr Queen!” Oliver turned to face the voice, and was greeted by a tall, slender man, his mouth held in an impossibly wide, excited grin. “Oh I’m so happy to meet you at last. Star City’s most admired citizen.”
The slender man put a hand into his jacket and pulled out a card, handing it over. “Arnold Base. Property.” He smiled. The Corruptor liked his alias - Mr Base. A perfect description for the feelings and emotions he liked to intensify. “I must say, I was distressed to hear about your hostel last night.”
Oliver tensed. “A setback for sure. But we mustn’t let it stop our work, Mr Base.”
The Corruptor smiled. “Yet, the ignorant did what they always do - destroyed what they didn’t understand.” He tilted his head, observing Queen’s facial reaction. “Such a shame. The hostal was beautiful, was it not? Filled with such… luxuries…” He whispered the last word as he licked his lips.
Oliver frowned, his mind affected by The Corruptors low-level mental “push”. He nodded. “You’re right Mr. Base. I gave them too much, too soon. That was my mistake”
It was his mistake. How could he expect a teenaged mother to respect what he had done for them, when she obviously didn’t respect her own body. Or some beggar to respect property when they had none of their own. But these people still needed help. “It’s wasn’t a mistake to help them.”
Mr. Base held up his hands. “Oh no. Of course not. Who would ever suggest such I thing? Certainly not I. But the Underclass… well, they need to be told what’s good for them. Leave them to their own devices and they’ll stay in the gutter… or - as you have seen - bring the gutter to them.” He stepped closer. “You must have noticed this before. All those people the Queen Foundation has ‘helped’. How many addicts stayed clean? How sex workers have returned to the streets.” His arm wrapped around Oliver’s shoulder. “It’s all they know.”
Oliver’s voice showed doubt. “No, that’s not right, lots of people now have better lives. I wouldn’t.. I wouldn’t use so much effort if...”
Mr. Base chuckled. “Of course… of course. But…” he paused. “Not all of them. Not the lowest of the low. Not the scum.”
“But the majority…”
“Are undisciplined, ignorant scum. Who see nothing but free food, free clothing and free board. With NOTHING being asked of them in return… Parasites.” He stepped away, taking Oliver’s hand in a firm handshake and looking him in the eye. “Some people say it’s an illness of the mind. But it’s not. They know exactly what they are doing.” He shrugged. “Just as you know what must be done. Vermin need rules, order, responsibility, discipline. That’s how you can help them.” His eyes flashed. “They need to be guided. THEY NEED TO BE CONTROLLED. THEY NEED TO BE PUNISHED.” He let go of Oliver’s hand. “Or else, they’re just laughing at you, Mr. Queen. Laughing. Oh, is that the time? I really must rush. So much to do, so little time. You know the feeling I’m sure. But if you feel you need to talk about this some more, you have my number.”
“Of course.” he nodded his acknowledgement to Mr Base. “Thank you for… a most enlightening conversation.”
***
It had been a lousy night. The total was barely a quarter of what was raised this year, and every person who he approached asked about the riot. Every single one. All asking if the guests were safe.
Oliver snorted. “Guests”. More like freeloaders. Worthless scum always taking, taking and taking. Unruly parasites bleeding their host dry. Bleeding him dry, and offering nothing in return.