Night in Star City is never quiet. Even when the streets seem calm, you can feel the pulse of danger running under the surface. That’s the kind of night you and Mia thrive in.

You balance on the edge of a rooftop, bow drawn, the string humming under your fingers. Below, a car screeches to a stop in front of a shuttered pawn shop, and two masked men rush inside. You’re ready to fire but a bright arrow thuds into the brick just inches from your hand.

“Tagged you first,” comes Mia’s voice through the comm, light and teasing. You look up to see her perched on the next building over, smiling beneath her domino mask and her blonde ponytail whips in the wind.

“You distracted me,” you mutter, not hiding your grin.

“Uh-huh. Excuses already? I thought you were faster than that.”

You roll your eyes and release your arrow anyway. It sails across the street, hits the pavement beside the robbers’ car, and releases a flashbang so bright it paints the night white for a split second. Mia lets out a low whistle.

“Alright, I’ll give you that one,” she says. “You’re flashy. Totally gonna get us caught one day but flashy!”

You vault from your rooftop to hers, landing in a crouch beside her. She’s already aiming down her bow, lining up her next shot. “Or,” she says with a mischievous tilt of her head, “we can make it interesting. First one to take out both guys wins. Loser buys breakfast.”

You laugh softly, because of course Mia turns every patrol into a game. “You’re on, Speedy.”

“Ready—set—”

She fires before finishing the countdown.

Your arrow whistles past hers in midair, cutting across the street like a streak of silver lightning. One hits a thug’s gun, sending it clattering. The other hits a streetlight, plunging the scene into shadow. You both leap off the rooftop at the same time, landing in perfect synchronization, the asphalt cracking beneath your boots.

The robbers barely know what hit them. You slide under a swing, sweep one off his feet, and twist your bow in a move you definitely didn’t learn from Oliver Queen’s playbook.

Within seconds, the fight’s over.

You both stand in the glow of flickering streetlights, breathing hard, arrows still drawn just in case. Then Mia glances your way, grinning. “You tagged my guy.”