Chapter 24: Sin's Escalation
POV: Sin
Sin's reputation in the Glades shifted from pickpocket to protector over three months—Ben's training turning a survivor into a guardian whether he intended it or not.
The alley behind Morrison Elementary should have been empty at seven PM, but three older kids had cornered a group of first-graders who'd stayed late for after-school programs. Sin recognized the setup immediately: gang recruitment targeting children young enough to be molded into foot soldiers before they developed enough independence to resist.
"Leave them alone," Sin called from the alley mouth, cataloguing escape routes and improvised weapons with automatic efficiency Ben had drilled into her until it became instinct.
The leader—maybe sixteen, wearing colors that marked him as Serpents territory—looked her up and down with obvious dismissal. "Walk away, little girl. This doesn't concern you."
"Reading the environment: three hostiles, ages fourteen to sixteen, probably carrying knives, definitely carrying attitude. Five potential victims, ages six to eight, too scared to run effectively. Exit routes: main street thirty feet behind me, fire escape ladder fifteen feet up the wall to my left, narrow passage between buildings that leads to Morrison Street."
"It concerns me when adults pick on kids," Sin replied, moving closer while projecting calm confidence Ben had taught her to fake until she felt it for real. "How about everyone just walks away and pretends this never happened?"
"How about you mind your own business before you get hurt?"
Sin assessed the threat level and made her choice. These weren't desperate kids stealing food—they were predators recruiting victims for an organization that would consume those children's lives piece by piece. Some fights couldn't be avoided, only managed.
"I tried being nice," she said, and moved.
Ben's training flowed through her movements like muscle memory made manifest. Read the environment, exploit advantages, stay mobile, create chaos and use it. Sin grabbed a trash can lid as an improvised shield while positioning herself between the gang members and the younger kids.
"RUN!" she shouted to the first-graders, who scattered toward the main street with the speed of children who'd learned that adult voices meant serious danger.
The lead gangster came at her with a knife, telegraphing his attack through body language Sin had learned to read like text. She deflected the blade with her improvised shield while sweeping his legs, dropping him to asphalt with controlled violence.
The second attacker tried to flank her, but Sin had already moved, using the alley's walls to constrain his approach while keeping all three enemies in her sight lines. Ben had taught her to think in three dimensions, to use elevation and confined spaces as tactical advantages rather than limitations.
"This is what I trained for. This is why Ben taught me to read danger before it materialized, to trust my instincts when something felt wrong, to move like violence was a language I could speak fluently. These kids were going to become victims, and now they're safe because I refused to walk away."
A red-hooded figure dropped into the alley from the fire escape above, landing beside Sin with the grace of someone who'd learned to fall without making sound. Another street kid, maybe her age, but carrying anger that radiated off him like heat from a forge.
"Three on one isn't fair odds," the newcomer said, settling into a fighting stance that spoke to training different from Sin's but no less effective.
Together, they dismantled the gang recruitment attempt with efficiency that left all three older kids nursing bruises and wounded pride while reconsidering their life choices. Sin's new ally fought with raw fury barely held in check, every movement expressing rage at a world that forced children to become warriors.
"I'm Roy," he said afterward, pulling back his hood to reveal red hair and eyes that had seen too much. "Nice technique. Someone teach you to fight like that?"
"Self-defense instructor at Marcus's gym. You?"
"Streets. Necessity. Anger at people who prey on kids who can't protect themselves."
Sin recognized a kindred spirit in Roy Harper—another teenager who'd learned that sometimes violence was the only language bullies understood, who'd decided that being dangerous was better than being helpless.
"Those kids will be back," Roy continued. "With friends. This kind of thing doesn't end with one fight."
"Then we'll be ready for them."
"Ben's going to kill me when he finds out about this. But he also taught me that some things are worth fighting for, that protecting people who can't protect themselves is more important than personal safety. These kids needed someone to stand up for them, and I was here. That makes it my responsibility."
POV: Ben
Ben found Sin at the gym the next morning, bruised knuckles and a split lip that she was trying to hide beneath careful makeup application. Her body language screamed recent violence despite her attempts at casual normalcy.
"What happened?" he asked without preamble.
"Nothing important. Just some kids being stupid."
Ben's Prescience activated briefly, showing him blue afterimages of Sin moving through combat scenarios with techniques he'd taught her. His stomach dropped as he realized what those injuries represented.
"You got into a fight."
"I protected some little kids from gang recruitment. Used exactly what you taught me—read the situation, trust my instincts, stay mobile, create escape opportunities for the people who needed them."
"I gave a child weapons without considering she'd use them. I trained her to recognize danger and respond to it effectively, but I didn't think about the moral complexity of making someone more dangerous who already lived in a world where violence was normalized."
Ben sat down heavily on a nearby bench, processing the weight of unintended consequences. "Sin, those techniques I taught you—they're for survival, not for picking fights with gang members."
"I didn't pick the fight. The fight picked those kids, and I happened to be there to respond to it."
"You could have called for help. You could have run and gotten adults involved."
Sin gave him the look teenagers had perfected for adults who suggested obviously impractical solutions to real-world problems. "Called who? The cops who don't respond to Glades calls unless there are already bodies on the ground? Ran to get which adults? The ones who are too scared, too busy, or too compromised to stand up to gang intimidation?"
"She's right. The Glades don't offer children the luxury of avoiding violence or depending on official protection. I trained her to survive in an environment where survival sometimes requires being dangerous to people who threaten innocents. But I didn't consider what that would do to her psychologically, or how it would change her relationship with violence."
"Those kids you protected—what happens when the gang comes back with reinforcements? What happens when they decide you're a threat that needs to be eliminated?"
"Then I'll handle it. With help if I need it." Sin gestured toward the gym's entrance where a red-haired teenager was hovering uncertainly. "Roy's got my back, and I've got his. We're building something here—a network of people who refuse to let predators operate unopposed."
Ben recognized Roy Harper from the show—future Arsenal, another damaged teenager who'd learned to channel trauma into heroism through dangerous choices and questionable methods. Seeing him allied with Sin meant the timeline was accelerating in directions Ben couldn't predict or control.
"Two damaged teenagers with combat training and a cause they're willing to die for. This is how child soldiers get created, how trauma becomes institutionalized through well-intentioned preparation for a world that shouldn't exist. But what's the alternative? Let them remain helpless in an environment where helplessness gets people killed?"
"We need to establish some ground rules," Ben said finally. "You can defend yourself and others, but you prioritize escape over engagement whenever possible. You carry this"—he handed her a panic button Felicity had designed—"to call for backup when situations escalate beyond what you can handle alone. And you train harder, because if you're going to be taking these risks, you need to be as prepared as possible."
Sin accepted the device with the gravity of someone who understood that agreements like this carried real weight. "Why are you willing to help with this? You could just forbid me from fighting and wash your hands of the whole situation."
Ben looked at this sharp, damaged teenager who reminded him so powerfully of the children he'd failed to save in his previous life, and felt the familiar twist of protective guilt that had driven every choice since his transmigration.
"Because you remind me of someone I couldn't protect. Because you're trying to save people who can't save themselves. And because..." He paused, searching for words that would convey the depth of connection without revealing impossible truths. "Because you're like the little sister I never had. Don't make me regret caring about you."
Sin's expression softened with understanding that went beyond her years. "You lost someone. That's why you teach the way you do, why you care so much about people being able to defend themselves."
"Yeah. And I'll be damned if I lose anyone else I can prevent."
They reached an uneasy compromise built on mutual understanding of trauma and shared commitment to protecting people who couldn't protect themselves. Sin would continue her street-level heroics, but with backup protocols and enhanced training to minimize the chances that her cause would get her killed.
"I'm enabling child vigilantism in a world where adults routinely fail to protect children from institutional violence. The moral complexity is staggering, but the alternative is letting Sin face these situations without preparation or support. Better to give her the tools and training to survive her choices than to pretend those choices won't be forced on her."
Ben watched Sin leave with Roy, two damaged teenagers trying to fix the Glades one fight at a time, and wondered if he was creating heroes or just better-trained victims. The answer, he suspected, would depend on factors beyond his control—like whether he could prevent Malcolm Merlyn's earthquake from destroying everything they were trying to build.
Outside the gym, Starling City hummed with its usual mixture of hope and desperation, unaware that its salvation was being planned by a team of vigilantes who cared enough about the city to risk everything—including the children they were trying to protect—to save it from forces that would consume it entirely.
The price of heroism, Ben was learning, was never what you expected and always more than you wanted to pay.
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