Chapter 31: Everything is hard?

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Laurel didn't want to make a choice, between going to a room or staying outside in the hallway.

She stood there frozen in place because she didn't trust him, so her thoughts were conflicted and her heart was pounding.

But when Allen noticed her long silence and was about to drag her away, she could only grit her teeth and comply by herself.

She walked to the front desk and paid for a room.

Enter the hotel. Register. Pay. Receive the key.

Allen casually wrapped his arm around Laurel's stiff shoulders, guiding her with practiced ease into the room, while she wore an expression like someone being led to their doom.

The door clicked shut behind them.

As the silence settled in, Laurel's nerves suddenly shot through the roof.

Her breath caught in her throat when Allen opened his bag, pulled out a small camera, and wordlessly aimed it at her.

Her face drained of color.

"Take it off," Allen said calmly, almost as if he was instructing someone to remove a jacket after a long day.

Laurel clenched her fists, her teeth grinding together.

Her gaze locked onto Allen with undisguised disgust and humiliation.

Yet, slowly and unwillingly, she began to undress.

She didn't dare resist, not because she feared pain or even death, but because she feared what he might do to her family if she didn't follow.

Piece by piece, the clothing fell to the floor.

Her coat, her top, her jeans… until only her bra and panties remained.

The cold air wrapped around her nearly bare skin.

Allen adjusted the camera's angle slightly, found the position he liked and took a pic, then walked over to her again, this time taking out a tape measure.

He started measuring her body meticulously, like a tailor working with a mannequin.

Laurel's voice trembled.

"What… what are you trying to do?"

"What do you think? Help you make a dress?" Allen replied casually, giving her waist a quick squeeze as he measured.

"You've got a better figure than my girlfriend."

Laurel scoffed with disbelief.

"You actually have a girlfriend?"

"Sure do," Allen replied with a smirk. "I'll introduce you two later."

Once he finished, he carefully packed away the tape measure and then checked the footage on the camera.

After confirming everything was intact, he placed the camera back into his bag.

"Although your figure is decent," he commented, "your physical fitness is another matter entirely. Right now, I'd rate it as average at best."

He looked her up and down clinically.

"You'll need to work on stamina, power, reflexes, the full package. Only with a strong body can you stand a chance at taking down your real enemies."

"Oh, you mean you?" Laurel shot back.

"Sure, another example would be…" Allen replied, unbothered, "the mastermind behind the Queen's Gambit accident. The one who killed your sister."

Laurel stiffened.

Allen continued with a casual but firm tone.

"I chose you to get rid of him, but you can't do it as you are… which is why my help is needed."

"That man's influence stretches across all of Starling City. If your identity is exposed, you're dead. He's strong, too. So, even if I train you like hell, you still might not be able to beat him… which is why I'll help. I'll get you some tools, gadgets for support, all the fun stuff."

He met her eyes.

"All you need to do is train, train, and train again. Once you're ready, you'll start by taking out his underlings. Clean sweep from the bottom up."

Laurel was silent for a moment, caught off guard by his sudden seriousness.

For a second, she saw not a pervert or a madman, but someone deadly serious about a mission.

She still didn't trust him. Not completely.

But… his goal seemed clear.

Even so, she couldn't help asking, "Do you know Sara?"

Allen shook his head. "Sara? Never met her."

"Then why are you so obsessed with me avenging her?" Laurel asked, voice filled with confusion.

'Do I tell her it's because I want her to become the Black Canary early so the Legends will come find me? Or that Felicity could use a side hustle?'

Allen chuckled and shook his head.

"Want to know? Not telling. Your job is to focus on getting stronger. You know the basics of physical training, right?"

She nodded.

Though she was clearly annoyed that he wasn't telling her what she wanted to know.

That annoyance only increased when she heard his next words.

"Good. Get started."

"Now?" Laurel blinked and instinctively reached for her clothes.

"Nope. Train like this. At least it won't be boring to look at." Allen snatched her clothes before she could touch them and casually tossed them onto the bed.

Then he lay down leisurely, resting his head on his arm and tilting his chin up slightly.

"Begin your performance."

Laurel bit down on her lip.

"What's wrong with you?" she whispered…

She glared at him… but didn't move.

Allen didn't repeat himself.

Instead, he raised a finger. A tiny spark of electricity crackled and leaped from it.

"Ah!" Laurel yelped and shivered involuntarily.

"I'm not trying to rush you," Allen said with a smug smile, "but it gets results."

He raised his finger again.

Reluctantly, Laurel began.

At first, everything felt wrong, like some degrading punishment.

Embarrassment burned hotter than her muscles.

She wanted to disappear, crawl into a hole, and never come out.

But the strange thing was… Allen wasn't leering at her.

He wasn't even ogling her curves.

His eyes, even when on her, felt distant. Observing. Supervising.

And whenever she stopped or slowed down, that finger would spark threateningly.

Eventually, Laurel focused.

Blocked everything else out.

Whatever Allen's intentions were, becoming stronger couldn't be a bad thing.

Law brought justice, sure, but strength could protect.

And she needed that now more than ever.

Unknowingly, time passed.

Morning blurred into noon, and Laurel was dripping with sweat and her body was aching.

That was when she finally heard Allen say, "Alright, that's enough," it was like the gates of heaven had opened.

She collapsed onto the floor, totally spent.

The shame was still there somewhere, but drowned beneath complete exhaustion.

Looking at her sprawled out like a dead dog, Allen chuckled.

He nudged her with his foot.

"Stop playing who's the corpse… Shower, get dressed, we're heading out."

"Let me rest…" Laurel muttered; eyes barely open.

"As the saying goes: everything is hard at the beginning, hard in the middle, and still hard at the end. Since it's all hard anyway, what's the point of resting?" Allen replied with mock wisdom.

Seeing her still refusing to budge, he raised his finger again.

Zzz Zzz Zzz.

"Ack!" Laurel screamed, jolted upright, and bolted for the bathroom like lightning had hit her tail.

A little while later, Laurel emerged, freshly showered and neatly dressed.

She didn't say anything and just followed Allen out of the room.

As they exited, the door to the neighboring room opened.

A middle-aged man stepped out and paused as he noticed them.

He looked at Laurel, her slightly wobbly legs, her flushed face, and then at Allen, who looked perfectly relaxed and full of energy.

The man gave a slow thumbs-up, admiration written all over his face.

Allen responded with a calm, modest smile, and nodded.