Univrsal Marchant :MCU /Arrowverse

Chapter 8: The Green Arrow's Gambit and the Enhanced Combat Protocol

My next jump was to Star City. Specifically, during early Arrow Season 2 or 3, after Slade Wilson's reveal but before the city descended into peak chaos. Oliver was a seasoned vigilante by then, but still brooding, still struggling with his demons, and always looking for an edge. He wouldn't be easy to impress.

I focused on the grimy, rain-slicked streets, the neon glow of the Glades, the distinct hum of a city perpetually on edge. The familiar shift, and I landed silently on a rooftop overlooking a dark alley. My Assassin's Stealth made the landing effortless, almost like I'd always been there.

"Alright, Oliver. No Pop-Tarts this time. No history books. This guy needs results. And maybe a hug. But mostly results. And probably a stern lecture about his life choices."

I used my Tactical Acumen to scan the area. Below, a small-time drug deal was going down. Nothing major, but a good opportunity to observe Team Arrow in action. And to subtly lend a hand.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a green-clad figure dropped from the shadows. Oliver. He moved with brutal efficiency, taking down the thugs with practiced ease. Diggle was providing backup from a van nearby, and I could hear Felicity's voice crackling over the comms, a frantic stream of data.

I noticed a hidden camera on a nearby building, positioned to catch Oliver's escape route. It was old, but still functional. Without a thought, I used my nascent Lightning Control, sending a tiny, imperceptible electromagnetic pulse towards it. The camera flickered, then died. Just a momentary glitch.

Then, as Oliver cornered the last thug, I saw another one, hidden in a dumpster, about to spring out with a knife. My Tactical Acumen screamed the warning. I couldn't intervene directly without revealing myself too much. But I could create a diversion.

I used my Basic Super-Speed in a quick burst, kicking a loose metal pipe across the alley, making it clatter loudly against a fire escape on the opposite side. The thug in the dumpster flinched, looking away for a split second. That was all Oliver needed. He disarmed the thug with a swift, brutal move.

Oliver paused, his head tilting. He looked towards the dead camera, then towards the fire escape where the pipe had clattered. He knew. Something had helped. Something unseen.

"Okay, Adam. You've proven your worth. Now, how to cash in without getting an arrow to the knee?"

I found a quiet corner of the rooftop, out of sight but still within range. I initiated the Brokerage.

INITIATING BROKERAGE PROTOCOL. TARGET: OLIVER QUEEN. RESOURCE: COMBAT MASTERY. OFFERED: ENHANCED COMBAT PROTOCOL. COST: UNDERSTANDING OF VIGILANTE ETHICS.

"Vigilante Ethics? Oh, this is going to be fun. Oliver's entire life is a walking, talking ethical dilemma. This is basically the System forcing me to have an existential crisis about punching bad guys."

I waited. Oliver was down below, tying up the thugs, his movements precise and efficient. He was talking to Diggle, a low murmur I couldn't quite make out. But I could feel the subtle shift in his aura, a flicker of thought about efficiency, about the unseen forces that sometimes helped him.

ACCEPTANCE OF BROKERAGE CONFIRMED. COST PAID: UNDERSTANDING OF VIGILANTE ETHICS. ENHANCED COMBAT PROTOCOL ACQUIRED. TP AWARDED: HIGH.

A profound, almost visceral understanding of combat flooded my mind. It wasn't just knowing how to fight; it was knowing why, and when, and how much. My Basic Super-Speed suddenly felt less like a separate skill and more like an integrated part of my movement in a fight. My Assassin's Stealth became instinctive, allowing me to flow through combat zones unseen, striking from unexpected angles. My Tactical Acumen wasn't just about planning; it was about adapting, predicting, and exploiting weaknesses in real-time, mid-fight.

I felt the weight of the "cost" too. A deep, almost melancholic understanding of the moral tightrope Oliver walked every night. The temptation to kill, the burden of restraint, the constant struggle to define justice outside the law. It was a heavy feeling, a sense of the immense responsibility that came with wielding such power.

"Wow. I just got a master's degree in punching people ethically. This is… surprisingly profound. I also feel like I could disarm someone with a spoon now. Or at least make them question their life choices with a well-placed kick."

I stood, my new abilities humming beneath my skin. I could feel the city, its pulse of crime and desperation, and my place within it, not as a random bystander, but as a potential force for change. A measured one.

Oliver, having finished his work, looked up at the rooftop where I had been. He didn't see me, but I knew he felt my presence. He was still wary, still a lone wolf, but now, perhaps, a slightly less lonely one.

I slipped away, a ghost in the urban jungle, my new combat protocol already integrating, making me a more formidable, and more ethically aware, force.