The police didn't believe the report—of course they didn't—but they had no evidence to contradict it either. They couldn't explain the lightning that struck East Port, and they couldn't find Anthony Venza's body. Most importantly, Venza's own men backed up Frank's story. In the end, the whole incident was written off as a freak natural disaster and quietly shelved.
Not that everyone bought the official report. ARGUS, for one—the organization that had temporarily ceased hostilities with Jack Kadere—suspected the lightning had something to do with him.
After their last run-in, ARGUS had pulled back. Maybe it was because of Laurel. They figured it was safer to observe Jack from a distance rather than confront him directly. Aside from some initial tension, Jack treated Laurel well enough.
Laurel's current suit came from Wayne Enterprises, sleek and battle-ready. She also had a sonic device from S.T.A.R. Labs in Central City—courtesy of Jack, though how he obtained it wasn't exactly legal. On top of that, he brought in Selina Kyle—Gotham's infamous Catwoman—to teach Laurel some close-quarters combat. ARGUS didn't believe for a second that Laurel wasn't important to Jack. Honestly, even her own mother, Dinah Lance, was beginning to suspect otherwise.
So when the East Port incident went down, ARGUS—already opting for surveillance over engagement—only doubled down on that strategy.
But ARGUS weren't the only ones affected.
Helena had filmed Frank shooting Anthony Venza. But footage alone wouldn't be enough to bring him down. She needed evidence—real, damning evidence. So, she kept playing the part Jack expected of her. In fact, she became even more committed to the role, making it harder and harder for Jack to tell whether she was pretending… or not. Either way, her plan was working. When Frank asked Jack for help again, nobody paid attention to Helena's presence—let alone suspected she was quietly building a case.
Every time Jack helped Frank out, Frank sent him hush money. Jack used some of it to buy a villa and gave it to Felicity. She was his girlfriend, after all—and it didn't hurt to have a place with better security if he ever decided to team up with Black Canary again.
What kind of hero doesn't have a base of operations?
After the move, Jack outfitted the basement with all kinds of advanced equipment. Before long, a fully functional mini command center was born.
In the master bedroom above, Felicity—still flushed from their "training session"—rested in Jack's arms.
"All the systems are calibrated," she said, voice low. "When do you plan to introduce me to Laurel officially?"
"Tonight," Jack replied, lazily brushing a strand of her hair aside. "I'll go bring her over soon."
Felicity gave a soft nod and settled in closer. Then, curiously, she asked, "By the way, what was that file you asked me to delete just now?"
Jack grinned. "Something that would've made someone very hopeful—right before I ripped it all away."
With Jack's help, Helena had gathered enough evidence to put Frank away for life. Her victory was within reach. And then… Jack told Felicity to delete all of it.
He had known what she was doing all along—trying to use him, manipulating his trust while also winning his affection, hoping he'd forgive her and let her finish what she started.
But now, he'd handed her despair instead of hope.
Jack was genuinely curious about how Helena would react. Would she spiral into hopelessness, abandoning her Huntress persona? Or would she push through and rise stronger, driven by conviction rather than vengeance?
Whether the result was poetic or tragic didn't really matter to Jack. The process was what interested him.
To him, this world wasn't a moral chessboard. He was a traveler who had crossed dimensions, now wielding power most would call divine. Why should he care about public opinion or the ideals of others?
After a brief rest, Jack and Felicity showered together. Then, dressed and refreshed, they headed out to pick up Laurel.
As their car pulled out of the villa's driveway, a shadow stirred from the nearby woods.
The figure wore black tactical leather, a hawk-shaped helmet gleaming under the dim light.
"The target's on the move," she said into her comm. "Ready to engage."
"Roger that," came the reply. "We're on our way."
With a shrug, the woman unfolded two massive wings from her back and soared into the sky, heading after Jack's car.
Suddenly, the sharp pop of a tire blowout echoed through the quiet road. Jack tightened his grip on the wheel, scanning ahead—only to see a group step onto the path in front of him.
Leonard Snart, aka Captain Cold.
Mick Rory, Heat Wave.
Ray Palmer, the Atom.
Sara Lance, the White Canary.
Jefferson Jackson and Martin Stein, merged as Firestorm.
Carter Hall, Hawkman.
And the man leading them all—Rip Hunter, former Time Master.
Jack's eyes narrowed. "Wait a second... Malcolm Merlyn's still alive, and Laurel hasn't even become Black Canary yet. So why is the Legends team showing up now?"
Before he could finish the thought, the sky shimmered, and another figure descended gracefully, wings spread wide. Kendra Saunders—Hawkgirl.
The complete original lineup of the Legends of Tomorrow.
All here. All at once.
... ...