Marvel: The Infinite Crown

{Chapter: 131 - Are you Green Lantern?}

Aiden chuckled and set the cup down on a nearby crate. "Wouldn't you like to know? Tell you what: if you can beat me, I'll tell you everything."

"Don't play games with me."

"I'm not. I just appreciate strength—and your type of justice. I've seen a lot of people put on masks and pretend to be heroes. You? You became one by losing everything."

Oliver didn't respond with words. Instead, he lunged.

Oliver's speed was a blur. He led with a fast punch aimed for Aiden's face. Aiden blocked with a single arm while still holding his coffee in the other. The cup barely spilled a drop.

Aiden countered with a casual sweep of his leg, which Oliver dodged with a backward roll. He threw a series of rapid strikes, mixing martial arts with street brawling tactics. Aiden blocked them effortlessly, his movements fluid, almost taunting.

"You fight like someone who's been through hell," Aiden said, catching one of Oliver's fists and twisting his arm. "But not someone who's finished changing because of it."

Oliver growled and twisted free, landing a solid hit to Aiden's ribs, but the man didn't even flinch. "You don't feel that?"

"Oh, I felt it," Aiden said with a grin. "But I've felt worse."

The skirmish continued, a flurry of combat that blurred the line between dance and war. The air was thick with tension, each movement deliberate, calculated. Oliver was relentless, but Aiden was something else—something… beyond human.

While in the exchange of fists Aiden deliberately refrained from using any of his abilities during the fight. Despite possessing power levels that far-far surpassed those of even Asgardians, he wasn't here to dominate with sheer force. No, his goal was something much more personal: to sharpen his hand-to-hand combat skills through genuine, grounded confrontation. And what better opponent than Oliver Queen?

He'd been observing Oliver from the shadows for some time now—not just the spoiled billionaire who returned from the dead, but the man forged in fire on Lian Yu, the hardened vigilante who moved like a ghost and struck like thunder. Aiden was intrigued by his style. The Green Arrow might not have superpowers, but his reflexes, instincts, and raw skill made him a rare breed.

Oliver, meanwhile, was no fool. As soon as he landed the first strike, something didn't feel right. The man in front of him, Aiden, was faster than he had any right to be. Stronger, tougher too. But he wasn't overwhelming—he was holding back. And not out of arrogance… but purpose.

Their fists collided, feet danced across the concrete floor of the derelict factory, and bodies moved with feral precision. Oliver's strikes were sharp and disciplined, a blend of military precision and island-born improvisation. Every motion was honed from years of survival, pain, and war.

Bang!

Aiden finally stopped holding back entirely—just enough to test Oliver's limits. With a small shift of his stance, he threw a calculated punch straight into Oliver's guard. The force sent Oliver skidding backward, his boots scraping against the cracked floor, and a pulse of pain radiated through his forearm. He looked down, surprised by the force.

Raising his head slowly, Oliver's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't normal…"

Aiden placed the coffee cup he had been holding onto a nearby crate with almost ceremonial care. His expression lit up with childlike enthusiasm, like a martial artist discovering a worthy sparring partner for the first time in years.

"Come on, Queen," Aiden said, flexing his knuckles. "Let's see what else you've got."

With a grunt, Oliver steadied his breathing. "Fine by me."

The two men charged at each other again.

"Hah—! Hoo—!"

The sounds of exertion echoed through the empty warehouse, followed by the swish of near-miss punches and the thwack of brutal impacts. Aiden was a little skilled, no doubt. But Oliver was a master of practical combat. He parried Aiden's strikes with minimal movement, redirecting blows, countering from awkward angles—every step and reaction fueled by years of combat experience.

Aiden admired it. Oliver wasn't predictable. He didn't follow textbook technique. He adapted on the fly, every movement born out of necessity and instinct. It was beautiful.

For a moment, Aiden dropped his guard entirely, choosing to experience the thrill of a raw fistfight.

Crack!

Oliver landed a few solid hits, but he could feel the weight behind Aiden's durability. It was like punching reinforced carbon fiber.

Eventually, Aiden raised a hand. "Alright, that's enough."

Oliver took a deep breath, wiping a trail of blood from the corner of his mouth. He didn't charge again. He knew the fight was over.

Aiden shook his head lightly and suddenly lifted his hand, causing the atmosphere to pulse. Without a visible source, a shimmering, dark green energy solidified into a cage of luminous bars around Oliver. The construct looked almost ethereal, but when Oliver reached forward and slammed into it, he was thrown back as if he'd hit reinforced steel.

"What the hell…?" Oliver muttered, stunned.

He recovered quickly, getting back on his feet, trying again—this time with more force.

Nothing.

The cage didn't budge.

Aiden turned, almost casually, and retrieved his coffee cup. As he sat down, a plush, emerald-colored sofa materialized beneath him—crafted from the same green hard light. He crossed his leg, sipped his coffee, and finally spoke with calm amusement.

"You done yet?"

Oliver remained silent for a moment before lowering his fists. He knew when a fight wasn't worth it.

"I take it you're not with those masked guys," he said cautiously.

"Nope. I came here for you."

"Then who the hell are you?"

"My name is Aiden. Aiden Graves. If you've been paying attention to the news lately—and I know you have—you'd know who I am," Aiden replied with a small smirk.

Oliver's eyes narrowed, and after a pause, he said quietly, "…Green Lantern?"

Aiden gave a small, satisfied nod. "So you have heard of me. Good. That'll save time."

Oliver stared, processing everything. The sudden appearance. The strange cage. The effortless summoning of solid energy constructs.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone guarded.

"I came to meet you," Aiden said honestly. "That's all. I've seen what you can do. I wanted to see it up close. And I have to say, I wasn't disappointed."

Oliver raised a skeptical brow. "You put my friend in danger for that?"

Aiden shook his head. "No. That wasn't me. But I couldn't resist intervening once I saw the situation unfold. Honestly? I wanted to see what the famous vigilante of Starling City was really capable of."

Oliver scowled. "You've got a funny way of introducing yourself."

"Well, I could've sent a letter," Aiden said, raising his coffee, "but this felt more personal."

The cage around Oliver shimmered for a moment, then vanished without a sound.

Oliver didn't move. He remained still, studying the man—no, the alien-powered guardian—before him. The fight made one thing clear: Aiden could've flattened him in an instant if he wanted to. But he didn't. And that raised more questions than answers.

"You said I could find you?" Oliver asked cautiously.

"You're a smart guy," Aiden replied as he stood. "You'll figure it out. When you're ready… come talk. There's something bigger happening out there, Oliver. Something even you can't take on alone."

And just like that—he vanished. The emerald glow faded into the air, as though he'd never been there.

Oliver stared at the spot for a long moment, then slowly exhaled.

"Green Lantern… Aiden Graves," he muttered, before turning on his heel and heading back toward the exit.

He had to check on Tommy. He'd been kidnapped, nearly killed, and now he had to come up with a cover story that wouldn't lead to weeks of questioning by Starling City PD. Two ordinary guys surviving an armed gang? That was a hard sell.

But now he doesn't have to do much…

"Green Lantern is the one who saved us," Oliver murmured with a smirk.

It wasn't a lie.

And it would keep the Hood off the radar—at least for now.

*****

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