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Michael spread his hands. "Heroes are still human; they have their own pursuits and hobbies, you know? Besides, I didn't kill you or lock you up—that's pretty generous, considering you almost hurt my friend earlier. I can't let you off without some sort of price, right?"
Nawei, standing before him, couldn't guess what method Michael would use to make her surrender, but she didn't want to die.
After hesitating for a long time, she clenched her teeth and began moving stiffly.
Michael smiled gently, nodding in approval.
Perhaps because she'd already committed to the act, Nawei gradually loosened up. Her movements became more fluid, and her clothes began slipping off piece by piece.
Michael watched her intently—not with vulgarity, but as though he were genuinely appreciating a performance. His composed demeanor calmed Nawei, easing much of her embarrassment. She even began to feel a strange sense of satisfaction, knowing she had his undivided attention.
'Am I crazy?' Nawei thought to herself. She found herself dancing more seriously, the coldness in her expression softening into something more feminine.
Time seemed to blur as Nawei danced, fully exposed, focusing on her movements. While showcasing her flexibility with her back turned to him, a sudden breeze brushed past her, making her shiver slightly.
Startled, she turned her head.
Michael was gone.
Nawei stared blankly at the spot he'd just occupied, trying to process what had happened. He had left? Just like that?
Her mind raced, 'Did he not find me attractive? Is that why he left after just watching me dance?'
The thought filled her with a mix of relief and frustration.
Nonetheless, he was gone, and she was free. Nawei exhaled deeply, brushed off the lingering emotions, and prepared to leave Star City.
Was Nawei unattractive?
Of course not.
Did Michael have no interest?
Not exactly.
Conquering a cold-blooded assassin like her would be an accomplishment for any man, Michael included. But he had other priorities.
Nawei's actions had caused quite a stir. Somers, the underworld boss, would have heard about her failure by now, as well as the Green Arrow's involvement. He'd likely flee, giving Michael the perfect opportunity to strike.
It was a chance to accomplish three objectives at once: protecting Star City, fulfilling his main mission by dealing with Somers, and completing his side mission to cooperate with Green Arrow.
Michael arrived at the secret base and waited. Not long after, Oliver Queen entered.
"Thanks, man." Oliver said with a nod of gratitude.
Michael shook his head, "It was nothing. By the way, I let the white-haired assassin go. Of course, I made her pay a price."
"What kind of price?" Oliver asked, intrigued.
"Uh... it's not important." Michael waved off the question, "She's just a hired killer, not the mastermind. Somers is the real problem. What do you think—should we take him down together?"
Oliver nodded, his focus shifting. "Absolutely. I came here to deal with Summers anyway."
Oliver was suited up in his Green Arrow uniform, bow in hand, with green paint across his eyes. The ensemble, combined with his stoic demeanor, gave him an impressive look.
Michael, amused, conjured a bow and arrow of his own for practice. He couldn't resist trying it out.
"Think you could teach me archery sometime?" Michael asked with a grin.
Oliver frowned. "With your abilities, why would you need a bow and arrow?"
"Honestly, I think it looks cool." Michael replied, shrugging.
Oliver rolled his eyes, annoyed. His pride in his skills was reduced to a mere party trick in Michael's eyes. For a fleeting moment, he imagined shooting an arrow at Michael—but only if he could actually hit him.
"Let's go." Michael said with a chuckle. He enveloped Oliver in his energy, and the two took off toward the port terminal.
At the terminal, Somers was packing up frantically, loading his belongings onto a boat.
"Is the boat ready?" He barked at one of his men.
The man grabbed a radio and called out, "Wallace, is the boat prepped? Wallace?"
No response.
The man hesitated, sensing something was wrong. He called out a few more times, but the silence was deafening.
Somers paused, his movements slowing.
"Wallace isn't here," A strange voice crackled through the radio.
It was Green Arrow.
"Move! Now!" Somers ordered, panic in his voice as he grabbed his things and made for the exit.
His men, confused but obedient, followed him. "Boss, we've got over a dozen guards outside—"
Somers didn't wait to hear the rest, too consumed by the urgency to flee.
"Not enough, far from enough!" Somers growled.
Bang!
An arrow flew through the air, and a man dropped to the ground.
Oliver Queen quickly nocked another arrow, drew his bow, and took cover again.
Bang!
A gunshot echoed. Oliver turned his head to see a large shield blocking the bullet's path behind him. Not far away, a man holding a gun stood frozen in surprise.
"Thanks!" Oliver shouted.
Michael, standing next to him, smiled and hurled the shield at the gunman, knocking him off his feet.
The scene was chaotic. Darkness and clutter provided perfect cover for ambushes. The attackers were nothing more than ordinary thugs, lacking even basic military skill. Michael was uninterested in engaging directly, only stepping in occasionally to shield Oliver from gunfire.
Before long, they had taken care of all the opposition.
Seeing Somers making a run for it, Oliver immediately gave chase. But Somers was quick and familiar with the terrain. Despite Oliver's best efforts, Somers managed to evade him multiple times, eventually escaping.
"Damn it!" Oliver muttered in frustration, though he refused to give up.
Michael flew over to him. "Leave this to me. The police are on their way—you should fall back."
Oliver hesitated, clearly unwilling. However, the faint sound of approaching sirens forced his decision. "Fine, it's up to you!" he relented, retreating reluctantly. He trusted Michael wouldn't fail.
Somers ran, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, afraid the Green Arrow might catch up. Relief washed over him as the dock came into view. Once he reached his boat, he'd be safe.
Just as he turned forward again, he froze.
A man stood before him, arms crossed, waiting. Somers' heart sank. He pivoted to flee in another direction, but a dark green rope snaked around him, hoisting him into the air.
"You—" Somers began to protest.
Michael floated over, raising his hand.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
A series of powerful strikes left Somers dazed, his face swollen and bruised.
"Look at me," Michael commanded coldly, pulling out his phone and starting a recording.
Somers, half-conscious, lifted his head. His eyes locked onto Michael's, and his expression went blank. A few moments later, Michael pocketed his phone, satisfied, and released his energy hold.
Somers dropped to the ground, unconscious.
"Don't move!"
A firm voice called out behind him. Michael turned to see an armed officer—Officer Lance, Laurel's father.
"Are you the Green Lantern?" Lance asked sharply. "I appreciate you saving my daughter, but now... I need you to come to the station for questioning."