The Arrowcave was unusually quiet that morning. Banks of monitors cast a cool blue glow across the cavern while dozens of surveillance feeds rolled silently overhead, painting Star City in flickering shades of gray. Oliver Queen stood before the central workstation with both hands resting against the polished metal surface, his hood and bow discarded nearby. On one of the larger screens, the morning news continued uninterrupted, the anchor speaking in the practiced, sympathetic tone reserved for tragedy. Images of a smiling Francis Bell flashed across the screen before dissolving into footage of a mangled sedan wrapped around a telephone pole, police lights bathing the wreckage in alternating flashes of red and blue.
"…authorities continue to investigate the late-night death of council hopeful Francis Bell," the reporter said. "Bell, who recently gained attention for his campaign advocating increased investment into Star City's low-income neighborhoods, was pronounced dead shortly after midnight following what investigators currently believe was a single-vehicle accident. Preliminary reports indicate officers detected a strong odor of alcohol inside the vehicle, leading investigators to believe intoxication may have been a contributing factor. Toxicology results have not yet been released."
Oliver's expression darkened as the report continued. Francis Bell wasn't a saint by any means, but he had been trying to accomplish something worthwhile, and Oliver knew exactly what had happened. Francis Bell didn't drink he was in AA.
He knew what the story will be, Francis Bell had a violent relapse. It was clean, efficient, and just believable enough that most people would never question it. Another death quietly buried beneath paperwork and assumptions.
Dinah leaned against the operations table beside him, watching the report end before folding her arms across her chest. "So," she said after a moment, "you weren't able to find him."
Oliver let out a slow breath through his nose before finally looking away from the monitor. "He made it to the Continental," he answered. "I chased him through half the city, watched him enter through a side entrance, and confronted Kieran less than ten minutes later. He handed me a room number, stalled me just long enough to keep me occupied, and by the time I reached the suite everything had already been scrubbed clean. Different guest. Different luggage. Different records. It wasn't luck, Dinah. They've done that before."
She frowned thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against the edge of the table. "Drakon's in the League of Shadows," she said. "Do you think that means Kieran has ties to Ra's al Ghul?"
Oliver remained silent for several seconds before slowly shaking his head. "I honestly don't know," he admitted. "Batman told us the Continental caters to professional killers, smugglers, mercenaries—anyone with enough money to buy privacy. That doesn't necessarily mean Kieran answers to Ra's, but it does mean he's connected to people who do. Whether it's the League, the Cartels, or someone else entirely, that hotel has become a crossroads for people we'd rather never see under the same roof."
Dinah studied him carefully before asking the question that had clearly been bothering her. "Then why did you let him walk?"
A humorless chuckle escaped Oliver as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Because he wanted me to do the opposite." His eyes drifted toward the paused security image of the Continental filling one of the monitors. "Bruce was right. The whole conversation was a trap. Every answer Kieran gave, every smile, every little jab—it was calculated. He kept pushing, hoping I'd lose my temper and fire that arrow. If I'd attacked him on that terrace, I'd have handed him exactly what he wanted. Every camera in that hotel would've shown Green Arrow threatening or assaulting a respected businessman in his own home. Public opinion would've buried us before I ever got close to proving what he really is."
Dinah slowly nodded, understanding settling across her features. "So now?"
Oliver's eyes hardened as they remained fixed on the image of the Continental. "Now we watch him," he said quietly. "Batman was right about one thing. Kieran Everleigh doesn't win because he's stronger than everyone else. He wins because he prepares three moves ahead. The only way we're bringing him down is by finding the move he didn't prepare for. I have it on good authority the man is leaving soon for metropolis."
Dinah smiled.
****
Several floors above the bustling lobby of the Continental, Nolan sat at the small dining table built into the penthouse suite, quietly working his way through breakfast while the same morning news played on a television mounted across the room. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Star City, illuminating the neatly arranged plate before him. Hash browns, eggs, toast, and fresh fruit sat untouched except for what Nolan absentmindedly picked at between thoughts. The report regarding Francis Bell eventually faded into weather and traffic, earning little more than a passing glance from him. He wasn't interested in the news anymore. His attention had already shifted to the dozens of problems waiting for him throughout the day.
Across the table, Dre was considerably less refined. He shoveled eggs onto his fork with little regard for appearances, occasionally washing them down with coffee before reaching for another helping. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. They had spent enough time together to know neither man felt compelled to fill every quiet moment with conversation. It wasn't until Nolan finished chewing a bite of hash browns that he finally looked up from his plate.
"Listen," he began calmly, setting his fork aside. "We need to talk."
Dre immediately laughed, though there was an unmistakable hint of apprehension behind it. "Boss, those four words have never once led to something relaxing."
Nolan couldn't help smiling. "You're not wrong," he admitted. "Fortunately, this isn't bad news. It's just… a change of plans."
That caught Dre's attention. He leaned back slightly in his chair, waiting for Nolan to continue.
"The original idea," Nolan said, "was always for you to head back to Gotham once the grand opening settled down. Marcy, Terrell, and Naima still need experienced people there, and we both agreed your strengths were best used helping stabilize operations back home. The problem is Star City isn't nearly as stable as we'd hoped. We've laid the foundation, but that's all it is right now—a foundation. If we pull you out now, we risk losing months of progress."
Dre frowned, considering the implications. Gotham had become home in many ways. He knew the streets there better than almost anyone, knew the people, understood how the Underpass breathed and moved throughout the city. At the same time, he couldn't deny the excitement bubbling up inside him. Nolan was talking as though Star City would soon become his responsibility.
"So…" Dre said carefully. "You want me staying?"
"I do."
The answer came without hesitation.
"I need someone I trust overseeing our people here while I handle Metropolis and eventually return to Gotham. You're already respected by our people, you've built relationships with the homeless communities, and frankly, I don't think anyone else could keep things moving the way you have."
A grin slowly spread across Dre's face despite himself.
"I can do it, boss."
"I know."
There wasn't a trace of doubt in Nolan's voice, and somehow that simple response carried more weight than an elaborate speech ever could.
"I also need you handling something else while I'm gone," Nolan continued, taking another sip of coffee before folding his hands together. "Your identity is becoming… recognizable. Green Arrow has seen your face. Local detectives have started connecting you to the Continental, even if they don't know exactly who you are. That makes publicly managing the hotel a poor long-term decision."
Dre nodded reluctantly.
"Yeah… figured that was coming."
"It was inevitable."
Nolan didn't say it harshly. If anything, he sounded mildly disappointed that circumstances had forced the issue.
"So we're adapting."
He reached beside him and slid a thin folder across the table.
"I'm creating a management program."
Dre raised an eyebrow before opening the folder. Inside were outlines for employee advancement, training schedules, interview procedures, and internal evaluations.
"I've been thinking about this for a while," Nolan explained. "Every Continental we open is going to need someone capable of running it day-to-day while our senior staff focuses elsewhere. We can't have Marcy flying between cities forever, and we certainly can't rely on people like you or Naima to wear two hats indefinitely. Eventually the hotels need to function on their own."
Dre slowly flipped through the papers, his expression growing more serious with every page.
"You've already planned all this."
"I've planned the framework."
Nolan smiled faintly.
"What I haven't planned is the people."
He leaned forward slightly.
"That's where you come in."
Dre looked up.
"I want you to find me three candidates before I return from Metropolis. Not one. Not ten. Three."
Nolan held up three fingers as he spoke.
"I want people you believe can represent the Continental. They'll conduct interviews, resolve guest complaints, supervise staff, and make decisions without needing someone to hold their hand every five minutes. More importantly, they'll be trusted with information that could destroy everything we've built if it falls into the wrong hands."
He paused long enough for the words to settle.
"Trustworthiness matters more than talent."
Dre swallowed.
It was strange.
Kieran would have turned this conversation into a joke, probably making him laugh before casually dropping the responsibility in his lap. Quentin would've poured whiskey, handed him a cigar, and somehow convinced him this was the greatest opportunity of his life. Even Vey would've made the expectations crystal clear before sending him on his way.
Nolan simply spoke.
There was no intimidation in his voice.
No threats.
No dramatic speeches.
Yet sitting across from him always made Dre feel as though every excuse he'd ever considered had already been dismissed before he spoke them. Nolan looked at people with an unnerving calmness, like he wasn't judging them so much as quietly understanding exactly who they were. The unsettling part was that Dre genuinely didn't think Nolan realized how intimidating that could be.
He closed the folder carefully before looking back up.
"I appreciate this, boss."
His voice had become noticeably more serious.
"That's a lot of trust you're putting in me."
"It is."
Nolan nodded once.
"And you've earned it."
For a brief moment, Dre simply stared at him before a smile spread across his face.
"I won't let you down."
"I know you won't."
Again, there wasn't the slightest hesitation.
Dre chuckled softly, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"So… what exactly am I looking for?"
Nolan thought for a moment before answering.
"I want someone people naturally enjoy talking to. Hotels aren't just buildings; they're experiences. Guests remember how they were treated long after they've forgotten what the lobby looked like. A good manager needs enough charm to solve problems before they become complaints, enough confidence to lead people older than themselves, and enough patience to deal with difficult guests without creating scenes."
He reached for his coffee one final time before adding the part he considered most important.
"But above everything else, they need integrity. Skills can be taught. Experience comes with time. Character doesn't."
He met Dre's eyes and offered a small, genuine smile.
"I trust your judgment, Dre. That's why I'm letting you choose who stands in front of me."
Dre nodded firmly, clutching the folder against his chest.
"I'll start interviews today."
"I figured you would."
Nolan picked up another piece of toast before glancing toward the window overlooking Star City.
"I'll call Marcy, Naima and Terrell after breakfast. They'll need to know you're staying."
Dre smiled.
"And Metropolis?"
Nolan's expression grew thoughtful.
"Metropolis is next."
He looked out toward the skyline, already mentally planning the next city, the next hotel, and the next hundred problems waiting just beyond the horizon.
***
In the dark of the night under the brilliant shine of the moon a plane took off towards metropolis.
At the same time several people in Gotham, Star City and Metropolis received alerts. But no one knew more than the man on the plane that metropolis was going to be a different beast. He was not just competing against Superman but also lex Luther.