Chapter 5: Father and daughter

After receiving the photos from his subordinate, Malcolm was irritated to see Thea drinking in a foul mood. Subconsciously, he had always worried about that girl. It was the first time he had truly seen her since she was born. Watching her grow up from a distance, he had never fully understood the reason for his inexplicable attention. But as soon as Moira revealed the truth, everything clicked into place. There was no need for tests or proof—his instincts, honed over the years, told him she was his daughter.

Standing in front of the panoramic windows, gazing at the city's nightscape, Malcolm felt that the once-mesmerizing view had lost its charm.

Frustrated, he poured himself a glass of wine with a sharp motion. He felt restless, almost itching for a fight, but there was no one worth the effort. Star City was under his absolute control, and Green Arrow was still hiding in his shattered lair. Maybe he should head to Gotham City, where real challenges awaited. But no—Malcolm knew he ruled Star City, yet Gotham... that was another story. And then there was Batman's son—the one even Ra's al Ghul admired. Best to avoid unnecessary trouble.

As he mulled over his thoughts, his phone rang. The bar owner was calling.

"Boss, the person you asked about is already drunk."

Uncertain about the girl's relationship to his employer, the bar owner kept his tone deliberately vague.

"Take care of her. Make sure nothing happens to her. Tell your men—no one is to touch her, understand?" Malcolm ordered sternly.

"Yes, yes!" the bar owner replied, hastily moving to carry out the instructions.

The message was clear: no one was to lay a hand on her—especially not the men. Wanting no trouble, the bar owner had Thea taken to a private room, away from the other patrons. He instructed his security team to stand guard and stationed himself at the door, armed and ready to intervene if necessary.

From afar, Malcolm observed. He knew his men well. If anything happened to Thea, there would be consequences.

Ending the call, he donned the black uniform of the League of Assassins, grabbed his bow, and moved across the city's rooftops, ready to protect his daughter. If anyone dared to touch her, one arrow would be enough to settle the matter.

Thea, however, wasn't entirely drunk. A sliver of consciousness remained. When she became aware of her surroundings, she noticed two women keeping a close eye on her. Relieved that she wasn't in immediate danger, she let herself fall into a deep sleep.

. . . .

The next morning, a pounding headache jolted her awake. Despite her drinking, she found her clothes intact. At least her "cheap father" knew how to keep his men in check.

"Do you need anything?" one of the women on standby asked.

Thea pointed at her.

"Bring me a glass of water."

The woman, wearing excessive makeup and an overly flashy outfit, stumbled awkwardly in her high heels, which irritated Thea. Meanwhile, the other woman helped her get herself together. Without another word, Thea left the bar with her head held high. One of the security guards called a car to take her back to Queen Mansion. As for the bill for the night… well, she didn't concern herself with such trivial matters.

At the bar, the staff silently watched the car disappear down the road. The bar owner, still standing at the door, exchanged glances with his security team. None of them dared to comment on what had happened.

. . . .

"Honey, you're finally back!" Moira exclaimed, her voice breaking as she pulled Thea into a tight embrace.

Her mother had always been a contradictory woman. Though she lacked Malcolm's hidden power, her political influence was undeniable—strong enough for a future mayoral run. Thea knew Moira wouldn't have spent the entire night without keeping tabs on her, but seeing her mother's genuine concern, she sighed and returned the hug.

"I'm fine, Mom. I just need some rest."

She made her way up to her room, changed into more comfortable clothes, and lay down. At the bar, she had worried about revealing secrets in her sleep. But now, exhausted, she could finally let her guard down.

Her mission was complete. In gaming terms, this meant she had strengthened her standing in Malcolm's camp, reaching a near-mythic status. Now, it was time to move on to the next phase of her plan.

. . . .

Meanwhile, at the Advanced Technology Lab in the city center, Dr. Wells—or rather, Eobard Thawne, the ultimate villain of The Flash's first season—entered his secret lair.

"Gideon, have you managed to track the target in the timeline?"

A blue holographic projection flickered to life on the wall and responded mechanically.

Wells sighed. Gideon was a creation of the Flash from the future, based on technology from a century ahead. In the present, science was still too primitive for him to fully unlock its potential. If he needed more computing power, he would have to enlist scientists from around the world.

Fortunately, the temporal interference seemed minimal and did not threaten his plan—for now.

It had been ten years since he arrived in this world. Stripped of his powers, he spent every day pretending to be a frail, sickly doctor. It was exhausting. And on top of that, he had to train his greatest enemy—the Flash.

A villain working tirelessly to mold his own opponent. How ironic.

He ordered Gideon to continue monitoring Star City and report any developments. Then, without needing to feign weakness, he swiftly exited the secret chamber.