Morning fog drifted across Starling City like pale smoke rising from a slow-burning fire. The skyline shimmered beneath the early sun, and the city exhaled a weak attempt at calm.
Kharon watched it all from the top of an office tower, perched on the narrow lip of a steel beam. The wind brushed against his cloak, but it didn't sway him. His balance was perfect, his presence ghostlike.
Below, Oliver Queen jogged toward Verdant, coffee in hand, shoulders looser than they had been in years. He looked hopeful—recklessly hopeful.
Kharon didn't move. His eyes followed Oliver with cold precision.
Oliver didn't know why the city felt less dangerous these past few months.
He didn't know someone removed threats before they reached him.
He didn't know someone had been watching him every day for years.
But he would.
Eventually.
Kharon stepped forward, letting gravity take him. He fell several stories, then caught a horizontal support beam, landing silently before stepping into a shadow and vanishing into another structure. His movements were so fluid they barely registered even to trained eyes.
He followed Oliver from a distance, slipping through the city unseen. Every vantage point, every rooftop, every alley corner—Kharon used them all with methodical ease.
Oliver entered Verdant. The club's lights flickered for the briefest moment—barely noticeable to anyone but Kharon—before stabilizing.
Inside, Oliver met Diggle. Felicity arrived seconds later, talking excitedly about new security upgrades. They were living the illusion of calm, of stability.
Kharon crouched in a concealed maintenance alcove above the lounge. Even if someone had looked in his direction, they wouldn't have seen him. He was part of the shadow itself.
He observed everything:
Oliver's growing confidence.
Diggle's protective instincts.
Felicity's brilliance mixed with her emotional chaos.
He had once watched these people from a screen in a different life.
Now they were real—and he was their unseen guardian.
Hours later, Oliver prepared for patrol. When he left, Kharon slipped out of the alcove and rose to the rooftops again.
Crime awoke with the night.
Kharon sensed danger three blocks away before the first gunshot even rang out. He moved, sprinting across rooftops with inhuman speed.
Below, a black SUV swerved through an alley, gunmen firing wildly at a fleeing man. Oliver arrived moments later, bow drawn and ready. He fired three arrows with precision—disarming, disabling, controlling the scene with skill that impressed even Kharon.
Oliver was becoming sharper.
More confident.
More dangerous.
Good.
When Oliver secured the suspect, Kharon left. He had seen enough.
But he didn't make it far before he felt someone else enter the rooftop.
He turned.
Nyssa al Ghul stood on the edge of the building.
Her stance was straight, proud.
Her expression composed, but her eyes sharp with suspicion.
She did not approach him fully—she stood as an equal, not a subordinate.
"Kharon," she said evenly. "I was told you were in the northern territory."
Kharon said nothing.
Nyssa continued, her tone crisp. "I did not expect you in Starling City. This place is beneath the League's concern."
Still, Kharon remained silent.
Nyssa stepped closer—not aggressively, but with the confidence of someone who was born and raised to command assassins. The moonlight touched the hilt of her sword.
"You are not a man who wanders without purpose," she said. "Why are you here?"
Kharon's voice was calm. "My reasons are my own."
Nyssa's jaw tightened slightly—the only sign that his deflection bothered her. She didn't bow, didn't lower her gaze. She met his eyes directly.
"You are Ra's most trusted weapon," she said. "If you act without his command, it concerns me."
"He is aware of my movement," Kharon lied without hesitation.
Nyssa studied him carefully. She was not easily convinced. She earned her place through blood, discipline, and pride. She did not fear Kharon, but she respected him—and she expected at least a fraction of transparency.
"You hide your intentions," she said finally. "It is unlike you."
"Then perhaps you know me less than you assume," Kharon replied.
Nyssa's posture stiffened. Not in fear—Nyssa al Ghul did not fear anyone. But in calculation.
"You watch this city," she said. "A place of little worth to the League. And you do so alone. I will not interfere, but do not believe I am blind."
"You are perceptive," Kharon said.
"I am my father's daughter," Nyssa answered with quiet strength.
Silence stretched between them.
She stepped back one pace—neither submissive nor dismissive. A neutral acknowledgement between two elite assassins.
"Your secrets are your own," Nyssa said. "But be mindful, Kharon. If your actions threaten the League, even you will draw my blade."
Kharon tilted his head slightly, eyes cold but not hostile. "Understood."
Nyssa held his gaze a moment longer, then turned sharply and vanished across the rooftop with the practiced grace of a born assassin. She left no trace of ever being there.
Kharon watched her depart, then looked back across the city.
Nyssa did not know the truth.
Ra's did not know why Kharon came here.
Neither cared for Oliver Queen's existence.
Only Adrian cared.
Only he understood what Oliver would face.
Kharon returned to the highest rooftop, standing above the city like a silent sentinel.
Below, Oliver stood on a different building, surveying his home with calm determination, believing—for the first time in years—that things were getting better.
Kharon whispered, "You have no idea what's coming."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"You will not face it alone."
The city's lights flickered far below. A new night began.
A fragile calm settled over Starling.
And Kharon, unseen and unstoppable, continued his silent watch