The first thing you notice is the arrows.

Five of them are buried around the old training room at strange angles, each one connected by thin black lines that stretch between the rafters, walls, and reinforced targets.

The second thing you notice is that Oliver Queen looks far too proud of himself.

“Don’t give me that look,” he says, lowering his bow. “This is innovation.”

You’re several feet above the padded floor, supported by a web of tension lines that shift gently whenever you move. Nothing digs in. Nothing feels unstable. If anything, the whole setup is annoyingly smooth.

Oliver strolls underneath, studying the angles like he’s just solved a very difficult puzzle.

“I’ve been working on a rapid extraction system,” he explains. “Collapsed buildings, broken bridges, dramatic rooftop rescues. You know. Normal Tuesday stuff.”

He reaches for one of the hanging lines and gives it a careful pull.

Your position shifts slightly.

His eyes sharpen at once.

“Easy.”

The joking tone disappears for exactly two seconds while he checks every connection.

Then the grin comes back.

“There. Perfect.”

Oliver circles beneath you, looking much too satisfied with his own engineering.

“You said trick arrows were getting predictable.”

He taps one of the lines with a gloved finger.

The whole system gives the smallest controlled sway.

His brows lift.

“Still wanna stand by that?”