DC: Don't Utter A Word

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[Star City. April 17, 21:35 PDT..

David Lance POV]

I continued with my life a day at a time. Training every time I had the chance, learning all I could from my sister, Oliver when he had the time, and Batman.

My goal was to become proficient enough in the martial arts to take Deathstroke on, in hand-to-hand combat. I knew, however, that getting to that level of prowess would take time.

Deathstroke was a seasoned warrior. A mercenary with decades of experience.

On paper. My goal sounded almost unreachable.

But, it wasn't.

Batman was the living proof of that. A solid demonstration that training and experience could go a long way. He was a man, a human, in a realm of gods, fighting threats that should, by all means, be far beyond his reach.

Yet. No matter the inconceivable odds stacked against him. The simple human would always prevail. Against the monsters, against the gods, and all others.

It was admirable.

And the extraordinary thing was. Batman wasn't the only living example of this. Oliver. Ted Kord. And Richard Dragon had reached this very same level, to different extents each.

All humans.

And yet. They had reached the unreachable.

I wasn't a simple human.

I was an inhuman. Part of a race of altered human beings that were the result of experiments on prehistoric humans by the extraterrestrial race, the Kree, who manipulated their genetic code, creating the potential for them to acquire superhuman abilities through a process known as Terrigenesis, in the Marvel Universe.

And I wasn't any inhuman for that matter. No, my powers, my strength, everything came from the strongest inhuman to have ever lived. Their King, Blackagar Boltagon.

If normal humans without any of what I had. Had managed to reach such levels, I had no excuse to not do the same and more.

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[Star City. April 17, 22:58 PDT. 2009.]

After dealing with my own emotions. Resolving to push any negative thoughts down.

I started working on a case. Alone.

Not because I didn't want to work with Dinah or Oliver, it's just that they were busy dealing with other cases that required their attention, like this required mine.

Though, to be fair. With Oliver, it was more like I didn't want to work with him. His sidekick was a condescending insufferable ass, that saw me as a threat to his role in his own world of jealous delusions, turning into the embodiment of a toxic girlfriend, every time Oliver took some of his time to teach me.

Oliver would often defend him. Saying it was the hormones. Which I suppose could explain some of his behaviors. Be that as it may, I had no intention of dealing with any of that.

Opting instead to only go on missions with Oliver when he wasn't around. To avoid the very likely scenario of me tackling him through a wall.

No idea why Robin likes him.

The guy lives in a constant state of trying to prove he's the best. In everything. But in a toxic way. Like, the last time I ever saw him. Oliver had us spar, a spar I won with relative ease.

A fact he didn't like. At all.

In his eyes. I could see he was angry, unfathomably angry.

He didn't show it, as most people would. He didn't scream. Try to attack. Nothing.

He simply stared at me for a brief moment, in pure unadulterated anger. Before storming out of sight as Oliver sighed.

That amount of anger was not normal. Especially considering the reason why he had been angry in the first place.

But that's beyond the point now.

He was Oliver's problem.

Not mine.

My problem right now. Was tracking a killer.

Keeping an eye on their next possible target. Star City's governor candidate and ex-police commissioner. Brian Nudocerdo. A criminal scum that had escaped justice for a long time, by controlling the system from within, knowing what to do, and what not to keep himself out of jail.

Be that as it may. Right now, he wasn't my case.

I had a killer to catch. After that was done, I would see what I could do about putting him in jail.

So far, Nudocerdo seemed to be fine. Sleeping soundly on his bed, snoring, his wife by his side. No signs of anyone but them in the house. However, as I thought of this. A shadow moved past my field of vision, skillfully using the shadows the starless sky gave to hide its presence.

Without even noticing, this mysterious shadow spurred me into action. Making me spring towards the house, as I drew out my silent grapnel gun from my belt and fired it in the direction of the ceiling, to cut some distance, in an attempt to intercept the mysterious shadow before it reached its target.

Finding myself face to face with a woman wearing nothing but black leather, and a white mask, as I landed in front of her.

"This does not concern you. Leave," The mysterious woman advised, her tone clear in the threat.

I shook my head.

"Then, you will die. Just like him," The woman drawled, pointing at me. Hurling a gleaming knife at me during this seemingly innocent motion.

I ducked, the blade slicing through the air, lodging itself up on the walls of the house behind me. However, the woman didn't stop there, hurling a few extra knives at me.

Keeping my eyes on her, I sprung towards her, deflecting the knives, while pulling two knives out of my belt, before hurling them at her. Who deftly evaded the attack. Missing her by a few inches.

"Nix," The woman spoke calmly, pulling a curved blade out of her suit. "You have earned the honor of knowing who is to claim your life. Black Bolt." she intoned, her blade gleaming under the moonlight.

Nix, that's a name I didn't know.

I will have to ask Dinah after I take her down if she knows of any Nix.

More than not, I always know who everyone is. Thanks to my canon knowledge, but her? I had no idea who she was behind that mask. Not even the slightest.