Chapter 10: Vendetta Revealed
The Foundry's private quarters were a rare sanctuary, the dim concrete space heavy with the musty scent of old gear and the faint hum of distant machinery. Luke sank onto a creaky cot, its springs groaning under his weight, his damp shirt clinging to his skin, the sweat sharp with the tang of exertion. He fished a piece of gum from his pocket, the wrapper crinkling as he popped it into his mouth, the mint's bite a fleeting anchor against the storm in his mind. His fingers traced the cot's frayed edge, a nervous tic, as he stared at the wall, its cracks like veins in the bunker's heart. Lian Yu. Slade's rage was born there, and I need to feel its pulse. The city's restless drone seeped through, a reminder of the chaos waiting beyond these walls. His sneakers, still crusted with gala dust, scuffed the floor as he shifted, the laces tangled, a small rebellion against order.
His breath slowed, his chest tight with anticipation, the gum snapping softly as he closed his eyes. The System flared, its interface a cool, glowing pulse in his mind, steadying his racing thoughts like a lighthouse in fog.
[SYSTEM: DAILY ROLL ACTIVATED: SPECTRAL EAVESDROP (INNATE ABILITY)]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: SPECTRAL EAVESDROP. STAMINA DRAIN: LOW]
Luke's spectral form surged, the transition a dizzying plunge, like diving into icy water. Lian Yu materialized around him, its humid air thick with the stench of wet earth, tropical rot, and salt from crashing waves. His ghostly senses hovered over jagged cliffs, the jungle below a tangle of shadows, leaves rustling with unseen life, the air heavy with the weight of old pain. He didn't hunt for relics or footprints; he sought emotional scars, tuning his awareness to the clearing where Oliver and Slade's bond shattered. Voices echoed—strained, raw, jagged—carrying betrayal and grief, the air pulsing with a wound that never healed.
[SYSTEM: SPECTRAL EAVESDROP SUCCESSFUL.]
[SYSTEM: MASTERY UPDATE: SPECTRAL EAVESDROP +15%]
Slade's voice cut through, a guttural rasp thick with anguish: "You chose her, Oliver! You let her die!" The words hit Luke like a physical blow, the raw grief and rage amplified by the Mirakuru's poison, a venom that turned love into vengeance. His spectral form trembled, empathy burning as he felt the island's emotional weight, a suffocating tide threatening to pull him under. This isn't just a vendetta. It's a man broken by loss. He focused, his spectral voice a dry whisper, taunting the psychic echo. "Slade, you're so hung up on revenge, you're missing the group therapy discount. Let it go, man."
The echo recoiled, a psychic spike of surprise rippling through, testing the scar's depth. Luke pushed deeper, and the energy shifted, coalescing into Shado's form, her spectral figure flickering in the jungle's heart, her dark hair matted with rain, her eyes heavy with sorrow. The air thickened, the scent of damp leaves and blood sharp, as her death unfolded—Oliver's impossible choice, Sara's survival, Shado's end. Luke's chest tightened, his spectral form shuddering under the weight of Slade's love for her, now curdled into hatred for Oliver.
[SYSTEM: SHADO APPARITION DETECTED.]
[SYSTEM: MAGIC VISION ACTIVATED (SPECTRAL ENHANCEMENT).]
[SYSTEM: EMPATHY CONFIRMS SLADE'S GRIEF (EXTREME) AND VENDETTA ROOTS.]
[SYSTEM: EVOLUTION POINTS GAINED: +20 EP.]
Luke snapped back to the Foundry, gasping, his shirt soaked, the gum stuck to his teeth as he clutched the cot, the metal frame biting his palms. His heart pounded, his breath ragged, the room's chill grounding him as he spat the gum into a trash can, missing slightly, the wrapper skidding across the floor. It's all about Shado. Not power, not Mirakuru—just a heart blaming Oliver for everything. He staggered to the main console, his sneakers squeaking, the air heavy with Felicity's coffee and the hum of monitors, their glow casting shadows across his pale face.
Oliver looked up from cleaning his bow, his green leather creaking, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing at Luke's shaken state. "You look like you caught a jungle plague," he said, his voice gruff, his fingers pausing on the bowstring, a faint twang echoing.
Diggle, polishing a gun clip nearby, glanced over, his broad frame steady, his eyes dark with concern. "You good, kid?"
"Worse," Luke panted, grabbing a towel from a chair, its rough fabric scraping his face as he wiped sweat, the faint soap scent grounding him. "I dove into Slade's broken heart. It's not just revenge, Oliver. He thinks you killed Shado. He won't stop until you're nothing."
Diggle's hands stilled, the clip clicking softly. "So we hit him harder?"
Luke shook his head, his fingers fumbling the towel, dropping it to the floor with a soft thud. "That's suicide. He's planning a city-wide strike, not just you. We hit his infrastructure—Mirakuru, devices, all of it. It's chess, not a cage match."
The System pinged, urgency flaring as Luke's hands sparked with orange light, the Mystic Arts surging, the air crackling with ozone. He wove two spinning shields, their glow pulsing like twin suns, and opened a small portal on the ceiling, its edges shimmering, his temples throbbing with effort.
[SYSTEM: EMERGENCY ROLL ACTIVATED (STRATEGIC NEED): +15 EP.]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: MYSTIC ARTS. STAMINA DRAIN: MODERATE]
"We need safe zones city-wide," Luke said, his voice firm, his eyes burning despite the ache in his chest. "Felicity's tech, your arrows—target his network, not his goons. We rewrite the game."
[SYSTEM: WEAVING TEST SUCCESSFUL.]
[SYSTEM: STAT UPDATE: STAMINA +3 (FOCUS TRAINING).]
Felicity's fingers paused, her glasses glinting as she nodded, a spark of admiration in her eyes. "You're flipping the script, Luke. I'm in."
Oliver's jaw unclenched, a flicker of trust softening his gaze. "Find his bombs. We move now."
Luke leaned against the console, his heart still racing, the towel forgotten on the floor. He popped another piece of gum, the snap sharp, a small defiance against the looming threat. Slade's playing apocalypse. Time to turn Falcon Flight into an earthquake detector and hunt his dynamite. The city's pulse thrummed, pulling him toward the next fight, the weight of Shado's ghost lingering in his mind.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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