[ Police Station HQ, Star City ]
Detective Lance suddenly exerted force on the door frame, so much so that Thea was afraid he might pull the entire door down.
"Listen, little girl, I may forgive Queen Consolidated, but I will not forgive Oliver Queen—not now and never in the future. Remember my words." He glared at Thea with raw fury before storming away.
Alas, the negotiation failed. This grudge ran deep. Oliver was just too reckless. Taking both sisters? He'd done something so shameless, even Thea felt secondhand embarrassment.
Still, it wasn't a total loss. Detective Lance hadn't outright opposed the collaboration with Queen Consolidated. That was progress. There was an Inspector technically above him, but that man spent most of his time networking at social events. Day-to-day operations were essentially left to Lance.
But this incident needed resolution, and soon. If Lance ever decided to stop cooperating, all of Thea's painstaking efforts would crumble.
She also needed to rescue Sara as soon as possible. Once Sara came back, a lot of these grudges—especially with the Queen name—could be smoothed over. As for whether the Lance sisters would clash over a man, well, that was a family matter. Thea had zero intention of getting involved.
She frowned slightly, recalling the timeline. Sara Lance should still be on the Amazo ship right now. As long as Oliver didn't stir up any extra chaos, Sara had at least a few months before real danger set in.
Knowing she still had some time, Thea set the rescue plans aside. She glanced at Laurel, who stood quietly beside her, her eyes clouded with emotion. Whether she was mourning her sister or still harboring feelings for Oliver, Thea wasn't sure.
Unable to ignore the support Laurel had given her, Thea reached out and gently hugged her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Thea. You're... stronger than I thought," Laurel replied, her voice catching.
Thea felt a pang at the mention of strength. Even if Oliver and Sara weren't truly gone, her adoptive father, Robert Queen, was. The grief clung like a shadow. She quickly changed the topic. "Can you give me a ride home? You know, still don't have a driver's license..."
Laurel chuckled softly. "Sure."
They drove back to the slums, and as they arrived, Thea noticed something curious—her so-called software division was just across the street from Laurel's law office. The coincidence made her grin. Before parting, they made tentative plans to grab tea together sometime.
...
[ Forest, Star City Outskirts ]
That evening, Thea arrived at the grove hidden deep in the jungle, ready for training. Without realizing it, she had been learning for over six months. She was now proficient in archery, hand-to-hand combat, and swordsmanship. According to Malcolm, she had already reached the level of an ordinary League of Assassins member, though she still lacked live experience.
This wasn't how the original plot had gone. Maybe it was the "like attracts like" phenomenon—just as The Flash attracted speedsters, Team Arrow attracted long-range attackers. Between Oliver, Roy, and the original version of herself, there had always been three archers. The original Thea had likely prioritized archery first, followed by swordsmanship, and finally fighting.
But not this Thea.
She had no plans to join Team Arrow in the future. Helping out in a crisis? Sure. After all, he is her brother. But long-term? No thanks.
Her fighting style had always relied on swift, sudden strikes. But if given time to prepare and equipped with the right technology, she could at least guarantee a safe retreat—even if she couldn't claim to be invincible.
Getting ambushed, however, was a different story. That was where martial arts mattered. Archery and swords looked cool, but if someone jumped you in an alley, a bow wouldn't save you.
She wasn't about to walk around town with a sword on her back like some antisocial anime character. That wasn't her style. She was too self-aware for that.
So she trained relentlessly in hand-to-hand combat. Joint locks, judo, karate, KGB fighting techniques—anything that could help her survive. She had even reached a point where she could spar with Malcolm and hold her own 40-60 in unarmed combat. Sure, that was with Malcolm holding back, and yes, there was a massive gap in natural strength and size between them. But still—it was progress.
After waiting in the dense forest for a while, I couldn't help but wonder why Malcolm—who was always punctual—had yet to arrive.
Sharpening my senses, I picked up on a few figures approaching from the right, their voices laced with curses as they moved in my direction.
Three men, whose ages were impossible to guess, walked forward. Their makeup was atrocious—thick black eyeliner, pale foundation, and greasy hair. It was evening and already dim, their dark clothing making them look like the silhouetted criminals from every episode of Detective Conan.
Their outfits were studded with glowing rings and random ornaments. They didn't walk so much as glide unsteadily.
What kind of edgy nonsense was this? These guys looked like they belonged at a failed punk rock concert, not wandering through Thea's training ground.
She sighed and turned, planning to move deeper into the forest to wait for Malcolm. No point in getting involved with idiots.
"Hey! A chick!" one of the three shouted, spotting her.
The other two, clearly tipsy, didn't need further encouragement. They stumbled forward like they'd just been injected with pure adrenaline.
Thea didn't run. She was already suspicious—this reeked of another one of Malcolm's tests. What were the odds of three absolute morons wandering into her secluded grove?
Still, it was the perfect opportunity to test her real combat skills, so Thea decided to strike first. It wasn't that she was afraid of losing—far from it. She just didn't want to risk a bunch of idiots saying something vile that would ruin her appetite before dinner.
Tossing her bow and dagger aside, Thea rolled her shoulders and loosened up. As she faced the three idiots approaching, she found herself mildly annoyed—each one looked equally punchable. and deserved a solid beating. The real problem was deciding which one to hit first.
"Hey, sweetheart—" the guy started.
Too late.
Thea moved first.
Not because of his words—though they were gross—but because of science. Statistically, the guy who opens his mouth first is the loudest. Loud ones tend to go down fastest.
There was no need to waste any flashy moves on a few weaklings. Though she had a signature KGB takedown move similar to Black Widow—wrap around, neck-lock, flip down to the ground with precision.
It looked impressive, sure. But Thea always felt a bit awkward using it. For one, it was too lethal—if her control slipped, it could easily snap a neck or worse. And more embarrassingly, Malcolm hadn't exactly been the best teacher when it came to this technique. There was something undeniably weird about practicing such a move with your father—no matter how many months you'd both spent training with each other.
Instead, Thea swiftly caught the lead thug's right arm and twisted it backward with practiced precision.
"AAARGH!" he howled—his voice breaking into something between a dying pig and a siren.
With his back now completely exposed to her, Thea instinctively moved to follow up—aiming for a clean takedown using a karate-style ear grab. But her hand froze halfway.
The guy had about twelve piercings per ear. The last thing she needed was blood and glitter on her gloves.
She sighed.
Some people really made beating them up inconvenient.
To Be Continued...
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[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]