One month since Doctor Sterling.
One month since the last real conversation Zane had with someone who didn't try to dissect him, shoot him, or sell him.
Star City's underbelly wasn't much better than Blüdhaven's, but it had one thing going for it: It wasnt crawling with Cadmus agents or drones. That alone made it paradise.
Now, nestled deep inside an abandoned rail station beneath the Narrows, Zane had made himself a home.
The old maintenance tunnels were damp, musty, and stank of old oil and mold, but after weeks of work, he'd carved out a surprisingly livable space. A power line rerouted here, a scavenged water tank there. The walls had fresh graffiti—not gang tags, but Zane's own flair. Purple swirls. A crude moon with a cracked clock face. It felt like his.
"General Crunch, hold the light steady!" Zane barked, half-joking, while tightening a pipe overhead. One of the raccoons--General Crunch--chattered indignantly but did as asked, holding a flashlight in its tiny paws. His partner, Papa Roach, snored on top of a stacked mattress in the corner.
"Slackin' on the job," Zane muttered, then wiped sweat from his brow. His shirt clung to him—he'd been doing calisthenics before this, resistance band training, even makeshift sparring against a sandbag duct-taped to a broken turnstile.
Nothing too fancy, just basics. But his body responded fast. Faster than it should've. Healing faster meant muscle formed faster too. One month of training gave him probably 2 or 3 years of result, judging by his scultped body. Nothing like superman or batman, but more like Nightwing.
He didn't quite know how far it could go… but it beat sitting on his ass.
" Alright, that should fix the leaking. I've really become a handyman haven't I." Zane felt proud as he looked at his own plumbing system he had built on his own.
Not just that, he even had his own secure wifi! He was living!
Of course, it took some trial and error, if he made an error he would just grab Karen and reset himself. He already made a new checkpoint after about 2 weeks of living here.
"Alright, I think it's time to go guys." Cleaning his hands with a rag, Zane called for his partners.
At the far end of the tunnel, a rusted metal ladder led to a manhole. Zane glanced up at it.
It was time.
---
The night air above was crisp. The streets? Less so.
He moved with precision across Star City's rooftops, hood up, red visor glowing beneath the hood, coat billowing behind him. He didn't call it patrolling—he told himself it was recon. He needed supplies. Money. Information.
That's what he told himself, anyway.
But deep down… maybe he just wanted an excuse to see her again, someone to actually talk to.
It had been a week since their first run-in.
He'd been tailing a gang peddling high-tech weapons out of a warehouse when a streak of green intercepted a fleeing thug before Zane even blinked.
She had a real attitude about her, but he liked it.
They kept running into each other. Started sharing tips. Then patrol routes. Sometimes.
Tonight, fate—or his messed-up version of it—brought them together again.
Zane crouched on a fire escape overlooking a dim alleyway when he heard the screams.
Not the angry kind.
The terrified, help-me kind.
He dropped without hesitation.
Three men, leather jackets, knives. One had the woman cornered, the others laughing. The classic predator act. Zane's heart raced—not from fear.
From memory.
He remembered a night like this.
The first time he died.
A woman in danger. Him stepping in. A gunshot. A body on the pavement.
His body.
He hit the ground hard and fast.
"HEY!"
The crooks turned, startled.
Standing a short distance away was a tall figure—easily 6'5", his silhouette broad and imposing. His black overcoat flared in the breeze, tattered edges.
Beneath it, rugged tactical gear hugged his frame. A series of utility patches lined his thigh harness, each holding modified tools, lockpicks, and makeshift gadgets—all Quality-grade, looted from a dead man named KGBeast.
His hood was drawn low, casting shadows across his face. But the real focus was the crimson glow of his visor—an ominous, horizontal strip burning faintly within the darkness of his cowl. It pulsed like a heartbeat, reflecting off damp concrete, giving him a ghostlike edge.
"Dammit, another wannabe vigilante, get this fucker. " The one clearly in charge barked orders at his men.
One lunged.
Zane moved like a shadow, ducked the swing, elbowed the guy in the throat. He crumpled. Another rushed him—Zane grabbed a trash lid and CLANG—bounced it off the guy's head like a cymbal.
Last one....was already running away!
He never planned on fighting in the first place, one glance would let you know that this vigilante was clearly not someone they could handle!
THWIP!
An arrow buried into the man's leg. He dropped to the ground with a scream.
A lithe figure landed in the alley.
A archer with piercing green eyes and golden-blonde hair tied in a high ponytail, her green combat suit hugs her athletic frame, built for speed and precision. A quiver rests against her back, and her gloved fingers hover near her bowstring—ready, sharp, and unflinching.
"Late again," she teased with a small smirk.
It was Artemis, future sidekick of green arrow. Future member or the young justice league, his friend.
"I was just softening them up for you," Zane replied. "You know. Like a gentleman."
"You? A gentleman?" She walked past him, inspecting the unconscious men.
Zane raised his hands. "I'll have you know I only committed three crimes today. All minor. All stylish."
She smirked but didn't comment. Instead, she turned to the shaken woman, helped her up, and whispered something comforting before calling the cops anonymously from a burner phone.
Zane watched her, quiet for a moment.
Then, "You ever think this city's cursed?"
"Constantly." She glanced at him. "But it still has some good people in it."
"Pfft. Name three."
"I'm standing next to one."
He blinked. "...You're standing next to two raccoons in a trench coat."
She laughed.
And for a second, it felt like the weight of death and rewind and secrets lifted.
They vanished into the night a few minutes later, the alleys still and dark behind them.
---
Back on the rooftops, they walked side by side.
Zane tossed her a protein bar from his coat. "I, uh, stole it from a vending machine. It counts as a gift."
"Romantic," she said, but pocketed it.
They stopped at the edge of a building overlooking the glimmer of downtown Star City. The skyline wasn't exactly a metropolis like...well...metropolis, but it had its charm. A street performer played soft jazz down below.
Zane sat on the ledge, legs dangling. Artemis joined him.
"So," she said. "Are you gonna tell me what your deal is?"
"Already did. I'm mysterious, emotionally unavailable, probably cursed, and I train raccoons to do my taxes."
She nudged him with her shoulder. "I mean your real deal. You're fast. Your a good fighter, although untrained, your reflexes are amazing, your skilled in Anti-reconnaissance, your tech looks really high grade as well."
'Reflexes are my cheat, Anti-reconnaissance is me shooting myself overtime you manage to follow me and my tech is stolen' Zane thought in amusement.
He didn't mind her finding his base that much, but not now.
"I watch a lot of Action movies," he deflected. "Picked up some skills, John wick and that."
She gave him a sidelong glance. "You really are something, Zane."
He smiled under the mask. "Don't fall for me, Artemis. I'm a bad idea with great hair."
"Pfft, as if," she replied lightly, then stood. "Come on. One more round through the Docks, then you can go back to whatever crypt you sleep in."
He stood too. "It's called the Batcave. Just shittier."
"Do you at least have running water now?"
"Yes! And hot, too. If you microwave it first."
She shook her head, chuckling as she leapt to the next rooftop. Zane followed with ease.
---
They found no more trouble that night.
But under the city, back in his lair, Zane flopped down on the mattress beside Papa Roach. General Crunch was chewing on a piece of stolen jerky.
He stared up at the cracked concrete ceiling, arms behind his head.
"So," he whispered, "maybe she's why you idiots keep letting me drag you topside."
Crunch chittered.
"Don't judge me. I'm lonely, not desperate."
Papa Roach rolled over onto his face.
Zane exhaled.
One month since Sterling. One week since Artemis.
And for the first time since waking up in this godforsaken universe…
He didn't feel alone.