The Queen's Gambit tragedy sent shockwaves through Starling City. Among the many affected, two families were hit the hardest.
The Queen family, of course. And the Lance family.
Detective Quentin Lance—an honest cop in a city drowning in corruption—was devastated. He had two daughters: Laurel Lance, the driven law student, and Sara Lance, the younger and more carefree spirit. But Sara's death, presumed drowned in the wreck of the Queen's yacht, nearly shattered him.
Ironically, when Laurel had been dating Oliver Queen, Quentin had opposed it fiercely. He'd argued bitterly with Laurel about it, warned her, even threatened to report Oliver for some legal infraction. In the end, all that vigilance did was alienate his eldest daughter. Worse, while keeping his eye on her, he missed what Sara was up to. And now she was gone.
He blamed Oliver Queen. Deeply. But some of that blame twisted inward—toward himself, and even toward Laurel. If she hadn't dated Oliver, would Sara have even boarded that cursed yacht?
Laurel, for her part, was caught in a storm of her own. The grief at losing her sister. The betrayal of her boyfriend having gone on that voyage with Sara. The guilt from her father's subtle accusations. She couldn't bear staying at home, surrounded by reminders and mourning. Though her college was in the city, she decided to live on campus, needing space to breathe.
Her father disagreed, of course. One final argument blew up between them, and Laurel left home—angry, hurt, and unsure of what came next.
Her thoughts clouded, she wandered aimlessly through the city. Somehow, without realizing it, she ended up in the Glades—the worst part of Starling. A place where cops were scarce and trouble was always just around the corner.
Too distracted to be cautious, Laurel didn't notice the hooded man tailing her until it was too late.
As she turned into a narrow alley, a sudden shove from behind sent her stumbling forward. She barely regained her balance before the click of a gun stopped her cold.
"Wallet. Phone. Now," the man growled, waving the gun at her.
Laurel froze. Years of being a detective's daughter kicked in. She handed over her purse without resistance.
"Smart girl," the man said smugly. But instead of leaving, his eyes roamed her figure, lingering far too long. His grin turned predatory.
"Let's see what else you've got," he sneered, stepping closer.
Laurel stepped back, trying to stay calm. "My father's a police detective," she warned. "If you leave now, no one needs to know. But if you touch me, the entire SCPD will hunt you down."
The man paused, visibly considering—then scoffed. "Cops don't scare me."
"You sure about that?" came a calm voice—not Laurel's.
The mugger turned sharply. A man was walking toward them from the end of the alley. Light-skinned, with dark eyes and an expression that said he wasn't remotely afraid.
"Mind your business, punk!" the mugger barked. "You think you're some kind of hero?"
The newcomer kept walking. "Just someone who doesn't like creeps with guns," he said, glancing at Laurel. "You okay?"
Laurel nodded slightly. "Help would be nice."
"Then let's deal with this," Jack Kadere said with a smile.
The mugger aimed his gun directly at Jack. "Back off, or I'll shoot. I swear, I will!"
Seeing Jack Kadere's relaxed expression and total disregard for him, the mugger narrowed his eyes in disbelief. He raised his gun and fired.
Bang!
The shot rang out.
The mugger blinked. Jack didn't fall. No blood. No wound.
Did I miss?
Panic flared in the man's eyes. He squeezed the trigger again and again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Multiple shots echoed down the alley. But before he could blink again, his vision blurred—and suddenly, Jack was standing right in front of him.
"So fast!"
The mugger flinched and instinctively stumbled backward. Jack just smiled.
And then he punched.
Fifty-stack strike.
Boom!
The force was catastrophic. Jack's fist crashed through the man's skull like a sledgehammer through glass. Blood, bone, and brain matter sprayed the alley walls—and splattered across Laurel Lance's face and coat.
She froze.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes locked onto Jack's bloodied hand as he calmly pulled it back from the collapsing corpse.
Then he turned to her, holding out the purse that had just been stolen.
"Your bag."
Laurel stared at the gore-drenched hand. Her eyes went wide. Her legs gave out beneath her.
Thud.
She fainted on the spot.
Jack looked down at her crumpled form and let out a low chuckle. "Yeah… probably need to work on your courage a bit if you're gonna become Black Canary. Passing out in every alley fight's not exactly heroic."
He casually slung her over his shoulder and walked out of the alley as if nothing had happened.
Over an hour later, Starling City PD arrived at the scene and immediately sealed it off. The mangled body told a story they couldn't begin to explain.
Meanwhile, Detective Quentin Lance was still fuming from his earlier argument with Laurel. After pacing the apartment, he sighed and reached for his phone to call her—ready to apologize, maybe even ask her to come home.
But the call didn't go through.
Her phone was off.
And that made him nervous.
…