"Tell me, Brock, have you visited your mother yet?"
Brock glanced over his shoulder from behind the small bar, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Not yet, sir."
Nolan laughed softly, "I'll stop bothering you about it."
"I appreciate that, sir."
Brock finished preparing the drink in front of him, giving the glass one final adjustment before sliding it across the counter. "Guava this time."
Nolan's eyes immediately brightened.
"You're a wizard, my friend."
He picked up the glass and took a sip, savoring the sweet fruit before settling deeper into his chair.
"Now, let's talk about this."
The television mounted across the room flickered to life.
A news broadcast filled the screen, the anchor standing in front of a backdrop covered with the logo of the Reach's newest campaign. Brightly colored advertisements showed sleek cans of energy drinks alongside images of smiling athletes, celebrities, and even several prominent public figures.
Brock stared at the screen for a moment.
"The Reach drink?"
"The very same."
Brock shrugged, "I'll be honest, boss. I don't really keep myself up to date with all that alien stuff."
"Start to."
Brock looked over.
Nolan's expression had changed. He was no longer smiling.
The Reach.
The name had been buried somewhere in the back of Nolan's memories, surrounded by half-remembered images and fragments of a story he couldn't quite reconstruct. His knowledge of this world had never been complete. There were entire corners of DC history he couldn't remember, obscure villains whose names meant nothing to him and secret identities he could never hope to list even if he tried.
But the big things?
Those had stuck.
The Reach were not friendly visitors.
They were an alien civilization with ambitions for Earth, infiltrating humanity from within while working alongside the Light. Nolan couldn't remember every detail of their plan, but he remembered enough to know that allowing them to casually distribute anything to millions of people was an exceptionally bad idea.
Somehow, he had forgotten about them entirely until now.
Until the Reach had walked into the United Nations, smiled for the cameras, and somehow convinced half the world that they were here to improve humanity.
Now they were selling energy drinks.
Nolan stared at the television, "You know what's bothering me?"
Brock waited.
"They're being too obvious."
"The drinks?"
"The whole thing."
Nolan set his glass down.
"An alien civilization shows up on Earth, meets with world governments, and then starts handing out brightly colored cans promising humanity energy and technological advancement?"
Brock shrugged, "When you put it like that…"
"Exactly."
Nolan leaned forward.
"I've already sent out notices. No one under any circumstances is to drink those things."
Brock blinked.
"None?"
"None."
"What if somebody already has?"
"Tell them to spit it out."
Brock stared at him for several seconds before slowly nodding.
"I'll pass the word around."
"Thank you."
Nolan turned back toward the television.
The smiling Reach representative continued speaking about cooperation, prosperity, and a shared future between humanity and their people.
Nolan watched him carefully. He wished he remembered more.
There was something important about this.
Something he had forgotten.
And that bothered him more than the drinks themselves.
****
Dre stepped through the front door of one of the Underpass's newest acquisitions, a modest game room sitting near the edge of the Glades. The building wasn't impressive, but that was precisely why they had chosen it. It had enough foot traffic to appear legitimate, enough space in the back to conduct business, and just enough distance from the Continental that nobody would immediately associate the two.
The manager spotted Dre and smiled, "What's up, boss?"
Dre nodded.
"How's business?"
The man glanced around the room.
There wasn't a single customer inside.
The machines hummed quietly along the walls, their colorful screens casting flickering light across empty tables. Even for the Glades, where business could be unpredictable, the place was suspiciously quiet.
"Booming," the manager replied.
Dre gave him a skeptical look.
"Booming?"
"We just got a big customer."
Dre smiled faintly, "That's good."
He walked past the manager and headed toward the back of the building.
The back room contained several stacks of cardboard boxes, all recently delivered and carefully arranged against the wall. Two Underpass guards stood nearby, both armed and watching the rear entrance.
Dre barely had time to glance at them before something smashed through the front window.
The sound of breaking glass exploded through the building.
The guards reached for their weapons.
An arrow struck the first man's wrist before he could draw.
He screamed and stumbled backward.
The second guard raised his weapon, but another arrow buried itself in the gun, knocking it from his hand. Green Arrow vaulted through the broken window a heartbeat later, landing among the overturned chairs and scattered glass.
The manager barely had time to react.
Oliver crossed the room in seconds.
The man's arm was twisted behind his back and his face was pressed against the counter before he could even shout.
"Stay down."
One of the guards charged.
Oliver released the manager and pivoted, driving an elbow into the man's chest before sweeping his legs out from beneath him. The man crashed onto the floor.
The second guard recovered and rushed forward.
Oliver ducked beneath a wild swing, caught the man's arm, and redirected his momentum into one of the arcade cabinets.
The machine shook violently.
The guard collapsed.
Dre heard the commotion from the back room.
His expression changed.
Years of surviving in Gotham had taught him the difference between a fight and an ambush. This was an ambush, and whoever had launched it had already breached the building without triggering the alarms.
Dre slipped through the rear exit.
The cold night air hit his face.
He immediately pulled out his phone and pressed a concealed button along its side.
Once.
Twice.
A silent signal was transmitted.
Every nearby Underpass member carrying a connected device would know one thing.
One of their people was under attack. Dre shoved the phone back into his pocket and started running.
He made it less than twenty yards before an arrow struck the pavement directly in front of him.
Dre stopped.
Another arrow buried itself in the ground behind him.
He turned.
Green Arrow stood on the roofline of the game room, bow already drawn.
"Fuck."
Dre sprinted.
Oliver released.
The arrow struck Dre's leg.
Pain tore through him as his knee buckled, and he crashed onto the pavement with a vicious grunt. He grabbed the shaft and tried to pull himself forward, but his injured leg refused to cooperate.
Within seconds, figures began appearing at the mouth of the alley. Several underpass members that received the signal converged.
One raised his weapon.
Another grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't! You could hit Dre."
They stopped when they saw Green Arrow standing over Dre.
The hero had already won.
They were too late.
"Back up!" Oliver shouted.
The Underpass members hesitated.
Their eyes moved between Dre and the hero.
They knew what happened next if they rushed him. They also knew they couldn't simply leave Dre behind.
Dre looked toward them through gritted teeth, "Don't." They accounted for this
The word came out strained but unmistakable. They understood.
More sirens began echoing through the Glades.
Oliver kept his bow trained on Dre.
The Underpass members slowly began retreating into the darkness.
Dre watched them disappear
"Smart." Oliver stepped closer.
Dre's jaw tightened as he tried to push himself upright, "What the hell do you want?"
"We're going to have a conversation."
Dre laughed bitterly, "A conversation?"
He looked down at the arrow lodged in his leg and then back at Oliver.
"You shot me."
"You were running."
"Yeah, that's generally what people do when some asshole in green starts shooting arrows at them."
The sirens grew louder.
Blue and red lights began flashing somewhere beyond the buildings.
Dre smiled despite the pain, "The cops are coming, you know."
Oliver's expression hardened.
Dre leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, "Superheroes don't exactly have the best reputation right now. You really want to drag an innocent man off into an alley while the cops are on their way?"
Oliver stared at him.
Dre's smile widened, "That's kidnapping, isn't it?"
Oliver lowered his bow slightly, "You're not innocent."
Dre shrugged.
The sirens were almost upon them now. Dre looked directly into Oliver's eyes.
"What's it going to be?"
****
"I see." Nolan said into the phone
His expression was unreadable as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. Brock who stood behind him stepped back in nervousness.
"We prepared for this." Nolan said into the phone, "Begin passing down instructions you know what to do."
Taking the phone from his ear he hung up and looked backwards at Brock, "Dre has been arrested."
Brock gulped, "Is he completely blown then?"
"No, he understood this day would happen eventually and prepared. He was smart involving the police, learned it from Brickwell I suppose." Nolan force out a laugh, "Green arrow didn't have enough time to question him."
"Knowing the green arrow he will see Dre in his cell." Brock replied
"That is my estimate."
—-
A/N: decided the reach will happen along with events from season 2 of young justice. But they are happening in the background Nolan isn't too concerned with the reach because why would he be. How is Dre going to get out of this one