Chapter 17: Vendetta Deepens
The warehouse near Starling's docks was a shadowed maze, its air thick with sea fog, heavy with the briny sting of salt and the faint rust of decaying metal, the distant creak of ships a mournful echo. Luke perched on a splintered crate, its wood rough under his palms, his sneakers dangling, their soles crusted with dockside grit, the faint squeak of rubber grounding him. He popped a piece of gum, the mint's sharp bite cutting through the melancholy gripping his chest, his fingers fidgeting with a frayed rope, its fibers coarse, a lifeline against the weight of Slade's pain. His reflection in a cracked window was haggard—eyes shadowed, jaw tight, hair mussed, the ghost of Shado's echo lingering from his last spectral dive. To beat Slade, I need to crack his heart open, and it's buried on Lian Yu. The city's pulse—distant horns, the rhythmic lap of water—pressed against the walls, urging him to dive deeper into the wound driving Slade's vendetta.
The System flared, its interface a steady pulse, slicing through the fog in his mind like a blade.
[SYSTEM: DAILY ROLL ACTIVATED: VISION PHASING (FACE 4)]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: PHASING ACCESS. STAMINA DRAIN: MODERATE]
Luke remained on the crate, his body still, but his awareness slipped into the spectral plane, bypassing the world's static, the transition a cold ripple through his core, like diving into a frozen sea. He projected his empathy toward Lian Yu, its coordinates a beacon in his mind, the air thickening with the humid stench of jungle rot, damp earth, and salt. The island's emotional scar tissue hit him like a tidal wave, raw and suffocating, Slade's grief a bitter taste in his throat, his chest tightening as if the island itself wept, its pain a living thing. Shado's echo flickered, her form a somber silhouette in the spectral jungle, her dark hair matted with rain, her eyes heavy with sorrow, the air thick with the scent of blood and loss, the Mirakuru's residual essence pulsing like a venomous heartbeat.
[SYSTEM: EMPATHY DETECTS SHADO'S GRIEF (HIGH INTENSITY).]
[SYSTEM: MASTERY UPDATE: MANTIS EMPATHY +10%]
Luke's heart ached, his spectral form trembling under the weight of grief, the echo's sorrow a cage Slade could never escape. This is his prison, and Shado's the key. He summoned a soft orange glow of Mystic Arts, not as a weapon but a lens, the light steadying his vision, the air crackling faintly with energy, its warmth a faint comfort against the island's chill.
[SYSTEM: MAGIC VISION ACTIVATED.]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: MYSTIC ARTS. STAMINA DRAIN: HIGH.]
The glow sharpened Shado's echo, her tragedy clear—not a threat, but a wound, her presence a mirror of Slade's loss. Luke pushed a wave of empathy, a gentle pulse of acceptance, his voice a silent projection, soft but firm. "You're his pain, not his purpose. He's twisting your memory to burn the world. He needs to let you go."
The apparition wavered, its sorrow spiking, a desperate burst of energy warning of Slade's relentless drive, a plea and a threat woven together, before fading into the jungle's hum. Luke's breath hitched, his spectral form snapping back, his body slumping on the crate, the rope slipping from his fingers, the gum stuck to his teeth, his chest heaving as he fought to steady himself.
[SYSTEM: SHADO APPARITION RESOLVED. +20 EP.]
Slade's fighting a ghost, not Oliver. This is going to break him. Luke stood, his legs shaky, his sneakers scuffing the crate, the warehouse's damp chill seeping through his jacket as he pocketed the gum wrapper, its crinkle a small defiance against the weight of what he'd seen.
Back in the Foundry, the air was alive with the rhythmic thwack of Sara's staff against a padded dummy, the sound sharp in the cavernous space, the faint scent of sweat and leather grounding the moment. Sara paused, wiping her brow, her blonde hair loose, strands catching the dim light, her white jacket scuffed, her baton twirling in a restless arc, her eyes sharp with concern but softened by familiarity. "Rough day, Cupid?" she asked, her voice light, a teasing lilt hiding her worry.
Luke sank onto a crate, its wood creaking, his voice low, the gum snapping faintly, a nervous tic. "Just played therapist to Slade's grief. He's all in for Shado. It's not just Mirakuru—it's a heart shattered beyond repair."
Sara's baton paused, her gaze softening, a rare vulnerability flickering as she leaned against the dummy, her fingers tightening on the baton. "You saw her again, didn't you? Her echo?"
Luke nodded, his fingers brushing her hand, the contact warm, grounding, his empathy pulsing to share the weight of the truth. "Not her, but the truth of her. Slade's pain is the real enemy, Sara. I need this team to keep me from drowning in it."
He scratched his forearm, a small cut healing instantly, the green glow of regeneration faint but steady, the air humming softly with energy, the scent of ozone sharp.
[SYSTEM: REGENERATION DEMO SUCCESSFUL.]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: RAPID HEALING. STAMINA DRAIN: LOW]
"Works best when I'm tethered to something real," he said, his voice steady, a grin breaking through the ache in his chest. "Like you, Canary."
[SYSTEM: EMPATHY BOND: MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING.]
[SYSTEM: BOND STRENGTHENING. +15 EP.]
Sara's lips curved into a rare smile, her baton twirling slowly, her voice soft but sharp. "You're a walking disaster, Luke. A powerful, ridiculous disaster. But you're our disaster."
Luke leaned back, the crate creaking, his candy wrapper crinkling as he pocketed it, his mind racing. The team's my anchor, but Slade's got a mole feeding him our every move. The Foundry's hum, the city's distant pulse—sirens, the faint clatter of a train—pulled him toward the next fight, the shadow of ARGUS's betrayal looming like a storm on the horizon.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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