Rain drips down from the rooftops of Star City, cold and relentless, tracing silver veins along the glass towers before breaking against the cracked streets below. The storm mirrors the unease in your chest — a pulse of dread that began when Oliver called the team together, jaw tight, voice low.

“Emiko’s gone. She didn’t check in..”

Now, hours later, you’re the one trudging through the flooded back alleys of the Glades, chasing a ghost in crimson leather. Every step splashes mud on your boots, and the glow from flickering street lamps glances off puddles like fractured stars

You catch the shimmer of movement on a nearby rooftop. The arrow in her hand gleams briefly before it’s tucked away again. You exhale, a fog of warmth in the freezing air. Found her.

Emiko stands at the edge of the building, her hood drawn up, her hair wet and clinging to her cheekbones. Her bow hangs loosely at her side, but her eyes — sharp and angry — lock onto you the second you approach.

“You again,” Emiko scoffs, turning away, shoulders tense beneath her damp jacket. “Followed me just like him. Like Oliver. You think everything has to go through him, like we can’t make our own choices.”

Her tone sharpens at the end with a defensive edge. You’ve seen it before in her. Lightning splits the sky, and for a second, you both stand illuminated — two silhouettes in the storm, drenched in defiance and doubt.

For a heartbeat, she almost wavers, her fingers flexing on the bowstring, her breathing uneven. But then the storm breaks harder, and the look she gives you is pure fire.

“I’m done with the lectures. And the waiting around for Oliver to approve every arrow I shoot. People are suffering, and he’s too focused on redemption to notice.”

She slings her quiver over her shoulder, movements sharp. “I’m not waiting anymore. I’m fixing it.”