To Simone140089 and SilverMoon100—thank you so much for following and favoriting! And a special thanks to highlander348 for the review!
highlander348: I think I keep saying this, but everything's been planned. We will see whether Karen is a Kryptonian or not around the middle of the Flash's season one. As to how her powers were suppressed... well. Remember that time the Particle Accelerator exploded and blue liquid came out of her body? ;) Can't reveal all the secrets in one go, after all.
So, we take a detour here, from Central City to Starling! I am getting closer to the moment (I think of it like that in my head, sue me). I think you'll know when it comes.
I hope you're all safe and enjoy this chapter. Comments are always welcomed!
07 - It's A Small World After All
MIDVALE, 2000. THIRTEEN YEARS BEFORE THE PARTICLE ACCELERATOR EXPLOSION.
Paul struggled against her hold. Her white hand contrasted against his dark skin, a fact that had her scurrying deep into the darkness of the warehouse. She pulled him behind some crates, her step light and swallowed by the noise of marching feet outside the building.
"No!" He kicked at her with his good leg, catching it before the hit landed. She loosened her hold when he hissed. Even so, Paul kept talking. "We can't leave her! Go back, go back!"
"They won't hurt her," she said firmly.
"They shot at us!"
"They shot at a scurrying rat," she whispered harshly.
"They thought we were the rat! And why do they have guns? We are just kids!"
Her heart clenched as she admitted, "They think I'm dangerous. They think I can hurt them."
"You can barely catch a fly!"
Were all eight-year-olds this mouthy? She didn't want to knock him out. But if he kept talking, if he kept making noise, the soldiers would find them. Mathilda had clearly thought the same and, in a rare show of trust, had shoved the boy into her arms, explained her plan, and ran off in the opposite direction.
It was a sound plan. But if Paul didn't shut up right now, the soldiers would end up doing far worse. And no matter how hard she thought of the possible outcomes, none of them ensured the complete safety of the Harcourt siblings.
They could kill them. They could hurt them.
They could take them and make them like me.
She was starting to see what Dr. Luthor had meant. Allies are disposable; friends make you weak. You can only survive on your own. Paul and Mathilda Harcourt threatened her survival. And if they caught her, then everything she'd lived through—the long surgeries, the grief of losing not only pieces of her mind but also Clark—would've been for naught.
Leave them.
I can't.
You will be caged. You know what they will do to you.
Yes, she did. She didn't know how old she was, who her parents were or the place she came from—she didn't even know her name. But what she did remember was the phantom fear of the glass box they stuck her in, the beeps of the electronic locks as they clicked locked, giving her a finality she did not want or deserve. She feels, rather than just recall, the pain of more than a dozen glowing needles puncturing her skin, her arms, her legs, her face—
And she does not forget the scar on her chest that isn't truly there anymore, barely a wrinkle on her sternum. It doesn't matter how old she is, how much more her body keeps changing... her fingers will always find the place where her new heart was inserted. Of the gift that extraordinary boy had given her.
The Harcourts had suffered enough. They wouldn't survive all that.
But you did.
A beam of light flickered in their direction. At last, Paul fell quiet. He even held his breath as boots thudded closer.
She dared to peer around.
The man was clothed from head to toes in camouflage but he'd had the stupidity (the confidence?) of not wearing a helmet. He had light brown hair and a Roman nose in a squared face. If he so much as ground his teeth, she expected to hear a cracking sound. Like metal giving in to a great force. He held his weapon loose, almost standing casually—
—only for him to swing back his arm, rifle flying into position, the long gun light glaring the spot on her left. A shot rang out.
Paul shook; he had now put his mouth inside his elbow, the other pressing tight against it. She held him close, her chin digging into his shoulder as she stared at the crate that had exploded.
(Karen would never forget those steel eyes in the oncoming years.)
000•000
CENTRAL CITY. PRESENT TIME.
Karen did not see the appeal of bars or establishments of similar nature. Oh, sure, they were great sources of information that the C. C. P. D. could not get their hands on, but as a form of entertainment? There were many places that worked just as fine, if not better.
But Mattie had the strange notion that getting drunk after a long shift (and just before her well-deserved break) was great. Awesome, even. Or at least that was the gist of her drunken tirades.
There were two versions of Mattie when she got drunk: excited Mattie, who looked at the world with the eyes of a child, or sad Mattie, who bordered on manic depression.
This Mattie was... broody. Extremely so. Karen couldn't get a word out of her, and unless she needed to convey something, her friend managed to get her grunts across.
Sighing, she ignored the lineup of empty glasses in front of them, her lone full glass standing out. Inside, there were more than a handful of paper pieces, all phone numbers of strangers who couldn't take a no as an answer. The bartender had raised his eyebrow but didn't judge her; she figured he'd seen stranger things than a drunk doctor and a blonde who tried hard to not get any attention.
But Karen did stand out. She always did, no matter how hard she tried not to. It wasn't just the look of her—the fact that her body looked like an athlete's when all the exercise she did was run from one corner of the city to the other—but her. P.J. claimed it was her aura or something like that; just being near her was soothing. (When she was angry, he said it felt like his mom were still alive and was disappointed in him; Mattie argued that her glare alone felt like a thousand cuts.) That was another con for bars: somehow, there was always a creep in the crowd. And somehow, they always veered in her direction.
Like the one coming right now. He was moderately handsome, tall, and blonde. He had a cocky smirk and was dressed like the typical bad boy, all in dark shades. Arrogant, she thought, and vain.
"Hey," he said, leaning on the bar with one arm while the other held the back of her chair, effectively blocking her way out. She would have to shove Mattie off her stool. "I couldn't help but notice that you are alone—"
"I'm not." She gestured at her friend, whose head was resting on her arms.
"—with your friend," he corrected smoothly, "and was wondering if you'd like to join me and mine."
Karen turned the whole way around to glance at said group. All of them looked like thugs. When she got back into place, she looked up at him and said, pointedly, "No."
He laughed softly. Like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"We don't bite."
"I do. And I've got claws as well." She looked at her fingernails. They were painted red and potentially lethal. Another lesson learned at Gotham. But it was days like these that she wished tasers weren't outlawed in Central.
"Meow. You look like a fun chick. Are you sure you don't want to join us?" He clasped her forearm as he said this, fingers pressing tightly. It wouldn't bruise, but she understood the menace beneath. "Look, fattie, you may look like you're good for a roll, but you'd be getting a pity fuck. Me and my friends? We can do to you what no other man would dare."
She really hated bars.
"Hey, dude, she said 'no'," said a new voice—
—but Karen mimicked her would-be suitor's laugh and seized the wrist touching her. She twisted backward as she'd learned in C.C.P.D.'s mandatory self-defense classes, and for some strange reason, she heard a grinding sound.
The man before her yelped. He tried to free himself from her hold but he couldn't, no matter how hard or how many times he punched her arm. Karen felt the pain of that, grimaced at the idea of bruises, but it didn't deter her.
"Holy Wonder Woman!" A young man appeared between them. He was shorter than Karen, with round eyes and longish dark hair. "I think you just broke his wrist!"
Her eyes caught the graphic design on his t-shirt and she couldn't help the excitement in her voice. "Is that Hot Topic's Adventure Time t-shirt?"
She let go of the man's wrist. He dropped to his knees, clutching his injured limb to his chest. His eyes were glassy as he glared up at her.
"You bitch!"
"Oh, shut up," snapped a suddenly sober Mattie, who lifted her head to glare at them. "You just got a sprained wrist."
"You haven't even checked," Karen whispered from the corner of her mouth.
"Karen, no human can break a bone with one move, let alone with the awful one you just pulled."
"Which was dope," said the extra young man, bouncing on his heels. "Man, I totally didn't see that coming." As the man on the floor groaned, he added, "Dude, you're an asshole. I'm surprised she didn't kick your butt. But if you wait for"—he looked down at his cellphone; Karen grew cold (had he recorded the whole ordeal?)— "ten more minutes, my detective best friend will gladly remind you that what you did was wrong and—I'll stop talking." He stepped close to Karen as two of the man's friends approached, one dropping to help him stand up.
"She's just a tiny girl," the absurdly muscled guy told the blonde man. "Don't be a cry-baby."
They left together, the rest of their companions debating whether to glare at Karen or throw her incredulous looks.
"Thank God they left, I was bluffing," said the young man. "About the detective being my best friend, I mean. I do know a detective, kind of. He's my friend's friend... kind of." He screwed up his face in thought. "The dude is his co-worker, and he kind of stole his girlfriend..."
Mattie, who was leaning on an elbow that rested far too close to the edge of the counter, slurred, "That's a whole lot of kind of's," and fell straight into Karen's back, her head bumping onto the spot where the waistband of her underwear started.
Karen looked up to the ceiling, trying hard to ignore the bemused expression of the stranger before them.
"Do you need any help?" he asked tentatively. He watched as she, without so much as a backward glance, placed Mattie back onto the counter with one hand.
"No. But thank you about before."
The young man—and he was certainly younger than Karen, she could tell— rubbed his neck with an embarrassed smile. "I didn't do anything."
She made a show of looking around, at the throng that had returned to casual conversations and the bartender, who had their back to them but held himself stiff. Karen would make sure their common acquaintance knew of his 'performance'.
"You did more than anyone else," she said firmly and offered him her hand. "Karen Starr. I'm in love with your t-shirt, by the way."
Grinning, the young man shook her hand. "Cisco Ramon. I'm still in disbelief of that, but damn—you put that man in his place. Or on his knees."
"Or that." Her smile was frozen. She hadn't meant to do that and she wasn't sure of the how. The C.C.P.D. sure as hell hadn't taught her that, not even her one-time teacher back in Gotham whose specialty happened to be putting the fear of God into his victims.
Mattie moaned, drawing their attention.
"Anyway, thank you again," continued Karen. "Tell you what—drinks are on me. Roger," she turned to the man at the counter, who finally had the gall to look at her, "everything his friends and him order tonight is on me."
"Whoa, whoa! That's-that's too much!"
"As I said, I'm grateful. Come on, Mattie." She knelt, and her friend draped herself over her back. Karen stood with a practiced move, Mattie flinging her legs for Karen to hold onto.
Cisco stared at them with his jaw hanging open. Others stared as well but the usual customers ignored the picture they made. It was not the first time Karen carried Mattie out of this bar in particular like she weighed nothing. Of course, they weren't privy to all the first times the blonde had dropped the dark-haired woman. That certainly had been a show.
With a last smile at Cisco, she left the bar, Mattie giggling as she kicked at the air.
Not a minute later, Barry Allen comes in.
"Hey, man." He frowned at Cisco. The young man was still looking at the door Karen had exited. "You alright?"
"Dude," he said heavily, pouring everything he felt into that one word. "I think I met the most beautiful and badass woman in the world."
Barry chuckled. "You know that after four times hearing you say the same thing it loses its impact, right?"
Cisco pouted.
000•000
MIDVALE, 2000.
Mattie was an idiot. She should have thrown the girl at the wolves instead of lurking around the warehouse suspiciously, but her brother's words rang heavily in her head.
Nobody helped us. Who's gonna help her?
Nobody, that was. Buzz Aldrin had set his sights on the girl, and Mattie had known then and there she couldn't leave her, strange as she was.
She hadn't accounted for the soldiers though. If she'd known that she would be playing Hide-and-Seek with a bunch of trigger-happy men, Mattie would have certainly reconsidered her options. Paul was her responsibility and while the Stranger had saved him from a quick death, she'd placed him in a worse position.
She jumped when she heard the shot, knocking aside some cardboard boxes. A light blinded her, and soon, she had her hands being held behind her back as she was pushed to the ground.
"Found a suspect!" came the bark close to her ear.
"What are you doing?" she shrieked, feeling the weight on her legs. God, it was so heavy her knees were already protesting.
Her head slammed down. She saw nothing but stars.
"Silence!"
"Hey! What do you think you are doing? She's a kid!"
Mattie saw the shadow of a man rushing toward her, the shoes not matching the boots around her.
There was a quiet click.
The man stopped.
"Easy there, Officer Singh. We wouldn't want you to provoke an accident, do we?"
000•000
CENTRAL CITY. PRESENT TIME.
The sight of so many soldiers gathered in the reception petrified Karen.
A man barked orders. There was a chorused yes, sir! and soon soldiers broke formation and strutted in different directions, their weapons swinging over their shoulders and helmets gleaming in the low light of the station. The cops, Karen saw, had stuck close to the windows or their desks; like her, they were frozen.
"Ma'am," snapped a harsh voice, "you're in the way."
(You're in the way, kid. But it doesn't need to get ugly, all you have to do is hand her over.)
She moved aside wordlessly, her gaze wandering far and low as she joined Kristen at their counter. The young woman did not look up, but she said, "Nosy morning, right?"
"What's the military doing here?" Karen hissed, sitting down quickly.
"There's a rogue asset in the city," said the redhead. "And our beloved forces thought it would be a great idea to try out their experimental equipment in Central and moved the entire operation from Starling City. There's a rumor that the newest billionaire at Starling pulled strings for that."
"Great. Just great."
A soldier stopped before them, shooting them a hard-eyed stare. Like he was trying to emulate Rambo or something. Both women threw him wide smiles.
Kristen dropped it the moment he turned his back on them.
"I don't envy you at all." She gathered her personal objects and handed Karen a notepad. "Here's the list of files the General asked for." She lowered her voice. "Captain Singh said not to enter his office, that's he got it under control."
"General? What General?"
But the girl had scurried off to the elevators. Lips pursued, Karen looked at the listed items. They were written in David's hand. At the very bottom, he'd added with a pencil: STAY LOW.
She looked for the files David asked for and sent them straight to his email. Her fingers shook, but her face was as smooth as stone. No soldier came to her corner and no cop dared to get into the military's way...
Until the arrival of one Joe West.
The low talking stopped altogether when the detective shot straight to Captain Singh's office. Eddie stopped next to Karen's counter, his eyes wide as he took in the wave of soldiers drowning the C.C.P.D.
"What's going on?"
She shook her head, but Officer Vukovich, who was walking by, said, "Who knows. They came in here like they owned the place. Been talking to Singh for the last half hour."
"This can't be good," said Eddie worriedly—just as Singh's door opened and the Captain came out, followed by a man so tall he had to be six foot in height.
David's face was closed off. But as his path was cut by West, resignation flickered in his eyes.
"General Eiling, this is Detective West."
General Eiling smiled and offered Joe a handshake. The detective accepted it, his gaze following the pair of soldiers that came out of Singh's office, each with a cardboard box.
"What's this all about?"
"The Army's taking over the bombing investigation," said the general in a deep voice. Something in Karen recoiled as his smile turned smug. "I'll need everything you have: physical evidence, photographs, witness interviews, and all your personal notes."
Joe nodded. "I've been on the job nearly 20 years. Never heard of the Army investigating anything civilian."
You could hear a pin drop at this moment. Though Joe West was not a loud man, everyone had gotten so quiet his words sounded like a challenge. Eiling kept his smile up, though.
"Well, it's not civilian. She's one of ours."
"We'll send over everything we got."
At last, the general gave a different answer. It was anything but comforting to see his smug smile drop to just the right level of threatening, more so when he took a step closer to West. "Very kind of you. I think we'll take it now, though."
Karen could feel the tension. It triggered her flight or fight response. Alas, David stepped between them, eyes conciliatory as he said, "Give them what they want, Joe."
Eiling chuckled. "You heard him, Joe." He dropped the grin, and this time, the threat was for everyone. "Give me what I want." He walked past him without a backward glance, heading toward the elevator.
But just before he got close to the doors, he stopped. Turned on his heel just the right amount... until his eyes found Karen's desk.
She averted her gaze, focusing on the computer before her. His footsteps sounded too loud now that she knew she was the object of his interest.
His shadow fell over her. She kept working, working out one key at a time, dumbing herself down at that moment.
Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me—
The elevator's ping brought many things: a distraction in the form of Barry Allen, the presence of Joe West to her corner, a soldier to General Eiling's side. And she didn't waste any time, escaping before Eiling could focus on her again.
000•000
"You need to get out of the city," said David, still as a statue as he overlooked outside his window and down at the military convoy that was just leaving. "He recognized you."
"He didn't have the chance." It jarred Karen she hadn't remembered General Wade Eiling; other than his graying hair and a few wrinkles here and there, he hadn't changed much. She'd also followed his career religiously, dogging every step of his and considering herself lucky that he hadn't gotten off the seaside area on the other side of the country. Until now, that was.
"We aren't going to give him one." He finally looked at her, face placid. As if they weren't conspiring to evade the country's forces. "I booked you a ticket to Starling. The train leaves tonight."
Karen scoffed and crossed her arms. "As if that doesn't scream 'suspicious'."
"Starling University is hosting an event related to Computer Sciences." A smile came to his lips. "Courtesy of Wayne Enterprises."
She spluttered. "You involved Bruce?"
"He owed me a favor. This was all he could do on short notice. Of course, it was only yesterday I found out the general and his lackeys were on the road."
"So I'm already in the register, then?"
"Naturally."
"Right." She nodded to herself. "It counts as extra credits, right?"
000•000
Packed tight with her emergency bag and wearing the most comfortable clothes, Karen boarded the train to Starling with little fanfare. Nobody followed her and, as luck would have it, she was alone in her wagon.
It made her more suspicious, more aware of her surroundings. She didn't put on any headphones or take out her phone, and though her gaze was on the window, she was paying more attention to the reflection of her wagon's inside than to the scenery.
Her paranoia paid off, however. Her train arrived at Starling City's station with a low hiss but when she was about to stand, her strain shuddered and she fell back to her seat. All lights flickered shut; the train powered down in seconds. And not a moment later did the screams start.
Another thing Karen Starr couldn't understand was panic. She more than often found herself under the mindset of flight or fight, but her emotions never got the best of her. She never ran away screaming unless David or Mattie taught her it was the normal response to the situation. So all she could do at this moment was watch the people at the station run from one way or the other in a frenzy, screaming—when all that happened was a blackout.
The monitors at each corner of her wagon turned on, showcasing a strange symbol amidst the floating red coding. It looked like an opening of sorts, shaped like the iris of a cat's eye.
A modulated voice spoke up.
"We are Brother Eye. Judgment has been rendered against this city. A sentence carried out. An earthquake. A siege. This is what comes next. A new life you will live on your knees. And it will take nothing more than the push of a button. We are in control now. And this is all just the beginning. Let there be light."
It cut off, and along it came the lights. The chaos outside the wagon died. All in the blink of an eye.
Karen couldn't wait to rub it in David's face.
000•000
"I can't believe you didn't tell me."
Karen rolled her eyes, pressing the cellphone closer to her ear while the other protected her eyes from the sunlight.
"It's not like I planned to come here. David had it all planned." She grinned. "You should've seen his face when he figured out his meticulous plan backfired." While Karen had had that conversation through the phone as well, she'd later hacked into the C.C.P.D.'s security feed. The expressions her guardian made while they spoke had been priceless; she'd copied the file into her private servers and turned certain clips into GIFs.
She heard Mattie sigh.
"He could've chosen anywhere but Starling City. That city's full of murderous freaks: the Dark Archer, the Clock King, Huntress—"
Karen snorted. "Like Gotham doesn't? At least Starling's rogues don't have silly names like The Penguin or Mr. Freeze."
"Yeah, but Gotham isn't going through terrorist attacks every season! You should take the first plane back—"
"Can't. The guy from the TV did put the city in siege. No transport is to leave Starling unless they want their passengers to suffer a fate worse than death." She could feel Mattie's frustration through the line. "His words, not mine."
"Where are you now?"
"At Starling University." Karen glanced at the buildings around her. From her position at the water fountain, they seemed like massive duplicates of Greek temples; each was a faculty or a pair belonging to one school. As anything related to technology like Computer Sciences was relatively new, the building where its classes were imparted was less opulent... or perhaps an overdecorated janitor's closet. But that wasn't where she was, thank Rao. "I'm looking at Weisinger Hall."
Mattie whistled. Weisinger Hall featured often in the news because it was often rented for many celebrations, whether it was a concert hosting a prodigious violinist or holding a conference for the latest TV program's ensemble. And Bruce Wayne chipping in with his money for a conference about computers and such? Well, the city couldn't hold back their excitement.
"How did it go?"
Karen winced, curling one arm under her breasts. Moved the phone away so that her friend couldn't hear her clear her throat.
"Good. Really good. One of the presenters, Mr. Nygma had some... interesting comments. Fellow Gothamite, you know."
Mattie chuckled. "Did he start with a joke about the similarities between your cities?"
Karen nodded hastily as if the other girl could see her.
"Yes! He did."
He hadn't. Nygma had waxed poetry about yesterday's clown's cyberattacks, almost glorifying him. Karen hadn't been able to stop herself from commenting to that, and what started like a passive-aggressive argument soon escalated into a full-blown argument where all guests pitched in just to fan the flames a little higher.
Needless to say, both Karen and Nygma had been escorted out. But it seemed Nygma had pissed off the security guards way before, as he had been carried out like a mad man to the outskirts of the campus, where she could see him pacing before them, throwing his arms to the air once in a while.
"Don't worry, Mattie. I've got everything under control for once. And I'm enjoying this reprieve from Central—it's been... educational."
"Crap! I've got an External Triage. Gotta go, call you later, Kara!"
Beep. Beep.
Karen tucked her phone into her bag. What could she do to pass the time now? With the current situation, there wasn't much to do at Starling, she figured. Yet, not a single face she spotted looked the slightest worried. Maybe they were acquiring the same Gothamite attitude—go with the flow and wait for your local vigilante to beat the villain of the week's ass. Unless daylight influenced the apathy. So many factors to consider.
She shouldered her bag and made her way between buildings, the shortcut narrow and empty of people. The path was made of stone, hindering her thin heels; she wobbled a little the further she got, prompting her to lean down and take them off.
She heard it then. Like always, the sound was amplified like an alarm, so she didn't jump this time as she listened intently to the sound of an inhale.
The exhale was accompanied by a swift whoosh.
She plastered herself on the ground, allowing her to see the green dart that flew past her head and got stuck between rocks. She rolled quickly to her right, gaze going to the roof instinctively.
A man in a green hood stared down at her, hands poised on the lower part of his face. So focused was she on rolling that she didn't hear the second dart being blown, but felt it dig into the skin of her throat. She gasped as the burning sensation went up to her nose and down her throat, making her gag.
Everything grew blurry. The corners of her eyes darkened. Karen rolled onto her stomach and tried to crawl away, but her body grew heavier the more she moved. Still, she tried, stopping only when her hand clutched the top of a boot.
She threw both hands around the person's heel and squeezed, thinking for a second that, if she tightened her grip, something would break... but it was too late. She fainted.
000•000
Plink. Plink. Plink.
The sound of water falling woke her up. It took no time for Karen's brain to catch up to her last moments and she forced herself to relax and keep her breathing even.
She was lying on something cold, probably a metal slab, but the air around her was equally cold. She wasn't in a morgue, was she? But no, she did not smell rotting skin; in fact, all she got was mold... and a hint of plants.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
She strained her ear until the water was drowned by the subtle buzz of heavy machinery—and voices.
"You said she was the only one who could stop it!" Male, defensive. She would need to open her eyes to get clearer speculation.
"I was joking, Oliver! I said Starr could give them a run for their money, not that she was better than me! No one's better than me—I mean, yeah, there are people who are actively smarter than me, which, duh, case in point—but me saying she could beat me? I was just being sarcastic and frankly, I wanted to blow off some steams the only way I know! Not all of us have the ability to shoot arrows whenever we want!"
Oh, no. No, absolutely not. This was not happening to Karen.
"You kinda did jump the gun," said another man, this one with a deeper voice, like the sort you'd want to read you at night. It soothes Karen's ruffled feathers against her wishes.
"Do you know who she is?" the female demanded, heels growing closer to Karen. "She works for the C.C.P.D.—her dad is the captain! And she's Barry's ex!"
Karen felt she slight wave of air pass above her—
Her hand flew, catching the other's wrist. Felicity Smoak screamed as Karen pushed herself up and threw the other arm around the girl's throat, her cuff pressing just the right amount to make the other blonde dizzy.
She was sitting on a slab. But she was in no morgue: the room was literally a basement with high-tech on one end and training mats at the other, alongside a collection of weapons of all sorts, the most prominent being arrows. Arrows everywhere she gazed at—including one being pointed at her by the Arrow himself.
"You're shorter than I expected," she blurted out.
He was. And he was all dressed in green from head to toes, his hood shadowing most of his face. She could see the whites of his eyes and the shadow of a beard though.
"Let her go," he snarled—and wow, that was a really good voice synthesizer. It was like she was hearing some hellbent demon.
But she met Batman once. Absolutely nothing could top the irrational fear he'd put in her back then.
"Why did you kidnap me?" she demanded in turn. The hold on his bow's string tightened. "Ah, ah, ah—I've got the high ground here."
"She's got you there," said the teenage boy behind the Arrow. He looked a lot like a model but was dressed in a similar getup to his companion's, only in red.
Click.
She peered sideways. The man with the deep voice, she figured. He was nearly two meters tall, dark-skinned, and had a gun focused on her.
Smoak cleared her throat. Or tried to.
"Starr—Karen. My friend didn't mean to kidnap you. He—he misinterpreted my sarcasm, that's all. But we could really use your help."
"You just made fun of my abilities."
"I did not make—oh my God. You heard me. I am totally sorry, I was out of line, but—I mean, looking at where you work, can you really fault me?"
"Just because my hobbies don't involve hacking into private government servers unlike some doesn't make me obsolete." She released Smoak, the girl dramatically massaging her throat. "But the answer's no."
"I haven't even told you what I need help with!"
Karen smiled. "You work with the vigilante. Last night, a pretentious man with a god-like complex made his statement to the city by pulling a lethal joke that powered down every technological object, including hospital machinery and active transports. It wasn't hard to guess." She rolled her eyes. "I still have the high ground, you know."
Felicity finally paid attention to the men around her. "John, Ol—Arrow! Drop the guns. you're not heathens, no matter how much you want to be."
The gun was lowered. The arrow not. Smoak glared at the vigilante until he—very reluctant—lowered it. But he still had it notched.
"The super virus—the X-axis bionumeric algorithm—it's mine. I created it when I was in college. But I couldn't stop it this time, it wasn't built for that. It was—it was a stupid attempt to get back at the Big Man, I was so stupid—"
"Felicity," the Arrow called softly, but she wasn't done.
"Please. Nine people got injured and two others are at the hospital with little chance of survival. I can't let this keep hurting anyone. It's not me anymore. And I saw your work at Gotham University, you're really good—" Karen shot her a look; Felicity grudgingly added, "just as good as me. I guess."
Karen sighed. Her gaze landed on the computer's setup, where an analysis of the virus was present on one monitor, the other two logged into the S.C.P.D.'s systems and running a trace on the algorithm respectively.
She jumped down from the slab.
"Tell me you at least had the sense to kidnap me with my laptop."
Fun Fact: when I wrote Kristen (Karen's background colleague), I took her character from the comics, a young redheaded woman who is a close colleague of Barry Allen. She is Kristen Kramer. Yes, the same one the show wrote for season seven for that ridiculous arc with Joe West. So now I got this dilemma whether to eliminate my Kristen after Crisis On Infinite Earths or not. What are your thoughts?