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I hope Ramsey can successfully isolate Superman's blood and grant me Kryptonian powers. Given that this world lacks a Superman, creating one might be the only solution. Unfortunately, Ramsey mentioned it could take years, even with the isolated DNA. There's a solid reason I haven't injected myself with it yet. A small part of me worries that I'm becoming like the Reverse-Flash. However, if there's a dark future ahead, one where this world might resemble *X-Men: Days of Future Past*, it might be worth the risk. I know that in the future, the government hunts down every meta-human.
Recently, I went to Gotham City to deliver evidence of my mother's killer to Batman. As of now, he hasn't reached out from his burner phone.
Currently, I'm on a bus to Starling City to meet the Green Arrow and his team. One issue weighs on my mind: what to do about Felicity Smoak. She has repeatedly gone behind Team Arrow's back, trying to help, but crossing too many lines in the process. Should I give her a chance, or is it better to avoid her altogether? Like Barry Allen, I try to see the good in people unconditionally. I've already altered Ramsey and Ralph's fates; perhaps I should attempt to change Felicity's too.
Arriving at the building where Cyrus Gold broke in, I see Felicity, Oliver, John, and Detective Quentin Lance. I wonder if Cyrus Gold could come back to life and become Solomon Grundy. After all, this universe has an evil version of Superman, so it's possible. I've also upgraded my stun gun to a pistol from SHIELD that shoots electricity with low, medium, and high settings. It might not have the power of the original, but at least it won't be destroyed by a single shot.
"Hey!" Quentin's shout interrupts my thoughts.
"Sorry, were you talking to me?" I ask.
"Yeah. Are you deaf or something? And what are you doing here? This is a crime scene," Quentin demands.
"And do your parents know you're here?" Oliver questions.
I roll my eyes at Oliver's question. "I work for the CCPD. I came here to assist with a similar case." I pull out my badge, showing that I'm a CSI.
"What kind of case?" Quentin asks.
"No offense, Officer Lance, but I'd rather not discuss a case in front of civilians," I reply.
"You can relax; they're witnesses," Quentin says.
"Maybe at your crime scene, but not at mine," I retort.
Quentin starts to argue further.
"Officer Lance, I don't want to waste any more time arguing," I say firmly.
"Now, back to business. You mentioned multiple guys broke in here, right?" I say, clapping my hands together.
Quentin nods.
"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're wrong. It was only one guy," I say.
Quentin looks skeptical. "What do you mean?"
"It's simple. The blunt force from the doors indicates it wasn't a vehicle or an explosive; there would be trace elements otherwise. Also, you can see that the man's neck was snapped with just one hand," I explain, pointing to the body.
I notice a fleeting expression of fear on Oliver's face.
"You okay?" I ask, concerned, though I already suspect what he fears.
"Huh? Umm, yeah, I'm good," Oliver replies.
"Are you sure? It looked like you saw a ghost for a moment," I say.
"I told you, I'm fine," Oliver insists, sounding defensive.
"Also, you can see that he moved a container with just his bare hands," I continue.
"One guy did all this?" Quentin says, disbelief in his eyes. "There must be another explanation."
"One person can do this. There's a performance-enhancing drug that could give someone enough strength to break down doors. It's more extreme than steroids, increasing muscle mass fourfold. But it has severe side effects," I explain.
"What kind of side effects?" Quentin asks.
"Death. If you don't take a dose every 12 hours, you will die," I answer.
"Wow, that's taking addiction to a whole new level," Felicity jokes.
"Having someone with enough strength to snap a neck with one hand isn't funny," I say with a deep frown.
"What's it called?" Oliver asks.
"Venom. But it's only used in Gotham City, so it's unlikely the assailant had it," I say.
"Why's that?" Oliver asks.
"Because only one man in Gotham can get his hands on it, and last I checked, he's in Blackgate Prison," I answer.
"Who's he?" Oliver presses.
"He goes by the name Bane," I say.
"Do you always act behind people's backs without asking their consent?" I ask Felicity.
"What? Of course not," she says.
"Really? Asking for my help without telling Oliver was a one-time thing?" I question.
"Yes, of course," Felicity insists.
"You need to work on your lying," I say, disappointment evident in my tone.
"But I'm not—"
"Yes, you are," I interrupt. "Your deflection worked better when I started talking about the Arrow."
"I don't work for the Arrow," Felicity denies.
"And I never said you did," I say.
Felicity freezes. I smirk, knowing I've caught her.
"I-I-I, well, you see…" Felicity stammers.
I raise my hand. "Don't bother lying. You've already confessed."
"Please, don't tell anyone I work for him," Felicity pleads.
"And if I do, will you blackmail or threaten me or my family to keep your secret?" I challenge.
Felicity looks like she's been slapped. "Of course not! I would never do that."
More lies. Who does she think she's fooling? Eobard Thawne had everyone fooled for 15 years.
"Okay, you can relax. I won't reveal your secret," I say, easing her fear.
"Wait, what?" Felicity asks, confused.
"I was testing you to see how far you'd go to protect your secret," I explain.
"And you think I'd really go that far?" Felicity asks, upset.
"I don't know. Would you?" I inquire.
"No. I would never go that far," Felicity says.
"I apologize. Finding out my father kept secrets has made me wary of trusting others," I say with false remorse. I'm starting to act more like Eobard with these lies and manipulations. Truthfully, I understand Felicity's motives, but the lengths she's willing to go raise questions. 'What about the lines you're crossing?' a small part of my mind argues.
"Your father kept secrets? What kind?" Felicity asks.
"Sorry, Ms. Smoak, but it's personal," I reply.
"Why not? I told one of my secrets," Felicity argues.
"You told me unintentionally. So technically, it doesn't count," I retort.
Felicity opens her mouth to argue again.
"Tell me, Ms. Smoak, how would you feel if someone undermined you?" I ask.
"What?" Felicity asks, puzzled.
"The question from earlier. How would you feel if someone undermined you?" I clarify.
"I…" Felicity hesitates, unsure how to respond. She would likely feel anger and annoyance.
"I see I've given you something to think about," I say, leaving the room with my laptop, seeking a quieter place as John and Oliver are about to enter.