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Not the mother nor the daughter…
Instead, it was this about the person in charge of the A.R.G.U.S, or the real mastermind behind the Queen's Gambit tragedy?
Was this even a real choice?
Dinah Lance, as an experienced field agent of A.R.G.U.S, understood better than most just how impossibly difficult it was to assassinate Amanda Waller.
Even if, by some miraculous stroke of luck, she succeeded, the entire organization would be marked as traitors and hunted to extinction by the U.S. government.
There would be no safe haven, no plausible deniability, only consequences.
On the other hand, although she didn't yet know who was truly responsible for orchestrating the Queen's Gambit incident, or the kind of influence and power they wielded behind the curtain, the prospect of killing that person to avenge her dead daughter didn't weigh on her conscience at all.
In fact, it was a relief.
She could still lean on her status within A.R.G.U.S to handle the political and legal fallout.
The mission wouldn't be sanctioned, but at least it was personal, and that made it easier to justify.
"What if we don't choose?" Dinah Lance asked Allen, her voice calm but firm, testing his resolve.
Allen didn't answer.
Not with words.
But silence in this situation spoke volumes.
If they didn't choose, he might just kill them both out of boredom or principle.
This wasn't a negotiation; it was a trap disguised as an option.
Dinah inhaled deeply, steeling herself.
"In that case," she said, voice low and sharp, "I choose the person who killed my daughter. Tell me who it is, and I'll handle it, fast."
"You can't change your mind after making the choice. Are you absolutely sure?" Allen asked, his expression unreadable.
"I'm sure," she replied without hesitation.
Allen's eyes shifted to Laurel.
"What about you?"
Laurel hesitated.
Everything about this felt wrong.
But her mother had chosen, and there was no other path forward that didn't end in more pain.
She could only nod, albeit reluctantly.
Allen smiled, satisfied.
He reached out and gently patted Laurel's head, as if she were a child who had finally behaved.
Then he turned to Dinah Lance.
"She's the one who has to kill them. You can go."
Dinah's eyes widened in alarm.
"She's just an ordinary person! Sending her alone is a death sentence. Tell me who it is instead. Give me three days, just three, and I swear I'll take care of it."
Allen shrugged; his tone casual, even playful.
"I don't care when they die. But it has to be her who does it. That part is non-negotiable. After all, it was you who said I'm a villain." He flashed a bright, almost cheerful smile.
Villain.
The word struck Dinah as deeply ironic.
For a moment, she forgot how to respond.
"You can keep tabs on her if you want," Allen continued.
"But I suggest you don't try to help her. I won't kill you, or her, for interference. But I could kill Quentin Lance…"
That one landed like a hammer blow.
Dinah might be prepared to sacrifice her ex-husband if it meant saving their daughter, but Laurel would never agree to that.
She'd never allow her father to be harmed for her sake.
In fact, if Dinah even attempted to help in secret, Laurel might end up sabotaging it herself, terrified that any help would backfire.
The blood drained from both their faces.
"Don't be discouraged," Allen said, almost kindly.
"If you really want to help Laurel, you still have an option: come after me. Try to kill me. Maybe you'll get lucky. And if you succeed? Then Laurel will be safe, and all your problems will vanish overnight."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Or, you know, just run away. Vanish. Disappear into the wind. Maybe if I can't find you for long enough, I'll get bored and forget you existed."
He looked at them, their grim expressions illuminated by the flickering light above.
Then he added with mock sincerity, "Come on, I'm rooting for you!"
"Also, bring this with you the next time," he handed her a paper.
Dinah didn't even read it, but she accepted it.
With that, Allen smiled at Laurel one last time and turned away, walking calmly into the shadows of the abandoned factory.
As his figure disappeared through the exit, the electric dragon that had been suspended in the air flickered and vanished.
The surrounding industrial space plunged into darkness, save for one lingering beam of flashlight that shone down on Laurel's bound form.
The mother and daughter stared at each other.
Dinah approached in silence and tried to free her daughter, but the steel restraints were far stronger than expected.
It took all her strength and effort, but eventually, she managed to pry them loose and carry Laurel down from the platform.
By the time they left the building, Allen was already back in his apartment.
As soon as he opened the door, Felicity jumped up from the sofa and threw herself into his arms without hesitation.
"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly.
"I was worried to death."
"I can tell," Allen said with a chuckle, patting her gently on the back.
"Wearing that at home in the middle of the night? Were you planning to run off with me at a moment's notice?"
He noticed she was wearing travel clothes, and her stuff was packed.
Felicity raised an eyebrow, looking up at him.
"Weren't you actually planning to run?"
Allen gave a crooked smile.
"Not for now. So, go ahead and wait for me in the bedroom. I'll be there after a shower."
He kissed her lightly, then made his way to the bathroom, peeling off his shirt on the way.
Felicity let out a long, relieved breath and turned toward the bedroom, disappearing behind the door.
Soon after Allen emerged from the bathroom, fresh from his shower with a towel slung around his neck.
Felicity wanted to ask him what had happened, where he had been, what choice had been made, but the moment he stepped toward her he pulled her into a deep heated kiss.
The moment overtook them.
Soon, the familiar creaking sounds echoed through the quiet room again, only fading as the night wore on.
By the time Felicity found a chance to ask any of her questions, it was already morning.
Because of last night's "exercise," she barely had time to confirm with Allen that they weren't going anywhere, at least not today, before she rushed out to work, her heels clacking hurriedly against the hardwood floor.
She figured she'd ask the rest when she got back.
Not long after she left, Allen headed out, and by chance he noticed Laurel stepping out of her house, dressed for school.
Same routine, backpack slung over one shoulder, locked the door behind her, took the same familiar route down the sidewalk.
He decided to follow.
"Stop! Don't run!"
"Come catch me then, you damn cop!"
The shouts pierced the morning air.
Following the sound, he quickly spotted the source: a middle-aged police officer sprinting down the street, chasing after a man who had just snatched a bag.
Nearby pedestrians scattered in all directions.
The thief, still laughing and taunting the officer behind him, ran directly toward Allen.