"This is the founder of S.T.A.R. Labs, Dr. Harrison Wells," Caitlin began to introduce as Harrison entered the room in his wheelchair.
Before she could continue, Kaius interrupted her with a polite smile. "Harrison Wells! I've read your autobiography—such an honor to meet you in person. Oh, I almost forgot—my name is Kaius Liam Rogers."
Harrison extended his hand, and Kaius shook it firmly. The scientist studied him for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly. "Hello, Mr. Rogers. Have we met before? Your voice sounds… familiar."
Kaius's thoughts flashed back to the not-so-distant past when he'd knocked out this very man—well, technically, the Reverse-Flash—with a single punch. But thanks to the magic of Superman's glasses, Harrison couldn't connect him to that incident.
Inwardly, Kaius chuckled. The universe works in mysterious ways. A simple pair of glasses, and even one of the most cunning men alive can't recognize me.
Out loud, he joked, "My voice is pretty generic—kind of like elevator music. If we had met before, though, I'm sure I would've tweeted about it!"
Harrison seemed satisfied with the response, dismissing his suspicions. His focus shifted to the unconscious Mirakuru-enhanced individual on the test bench. As Caitlin and Cisco filled him in on the details, a flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, yes, but something deeper as well. Kaius caught it, though he chose not to comment. What's he calculating now? he wondered.
After ensuring the team had everything they needed to analyze the Mirakuru-enhanced subject, Kaius made his way to Barry Allen's side. The young speedster was still in a coma, as expected. According to the timeline, Barry would remain unconscious for nine months after being struck by the lightning bolt. When he woke, he would become the Scarlet Speedster—the Flash.
Kaius smirked at the thought. Fastest man alive, huh? Wonder which aspect that applies to.
Later, back at the Green Arrow base…
Returning to Star City, Kaius found Oliver brooding in silence, his expression dark with frustration and anger. His body language screamed, Don't talk to me.
"What's wrong, Oliver? Something happen?" Kaius asked, curious but already suspecting the answer.
Sara stepped forward to explain. "We've identified the mastermind behind Star City's recent chaos. It's Slade Wilson—Deathstroke. He's an old enemy of Oliver's from Lian Yu."
Oliver cut in, his voice sharp. "Slade came to my house. He broke into my home, sat down with my mother, and—" His tone turned accusatory. "I called you! Twice! No one even realized I was asking for help!"
Kaius raised an eyebrow, his mind flashing to Felicity's earlier comments. Typical Oliver, always forgetting subtlety isn't everyone's forte.
Sara crossed her arms, defending the team. "Oliver, you can't blame us for not picking up on your SOS through a silent phone call. If I'd heard Slade's voice, I would've understood immediately."
Kaius interjected, sensing the tension. "Alright, everyone, calm down. Oliver, you're the priority target now. We need to set up an emergency alert system for situations like this. Something like a direct pager—you press it, and the team gets notified instantly."
"Kind of like Superman's emergency pager for Jimmy Olsen?" Felicity chimed in, already intrigued. "That's actually a solid idea."
Kaius nodded. "Exactly. Let's get it set up soon. For now, everyone's exhausted. Get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll start tracking Slade and his Mirakuru-enhanced army. He can't hide that many people without leaving a trail."
Oliver sighed, his tension easing slightly. "Fine. But once we find him, we end this. No more chances for Slade to hurt anyone else."
Meanwhile, late at night…
Elsewhere in Star City, Slade Wilson donned his iconic Deathstroke armor. His Mirakuru-enhanced body radiated power as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror. This wasn't just a uniform—it was a declaration of war.
Slade Wilson strode through the dimly lit factory, his alloy war sword strapped across his back, a variety of weapons adorning his combat gear. His half-black, half-orange mask gave him the menacing appearance of the mercenary he was known to be: Deathstroke.
The factory, disguised as a legitimate textile plant, was actually a covert operation. Slade had transformed it into a secret base where Mirakuru serum was being replicated and tested. Prisoners recently broken out of jail were transported here in batches, subjected to injections of the volatile biochemical agent.
Sebastian Blood, donning his signature skull mask, followed closely behind Slade. "We've got more survivors this time," he reported. "Thirty-six in total."
Given the high mortality rate of Mirakuru injections, 36 survivors was a remarkable number. Yet, it wasn't enough for Slade.
"Three days," Slade muttered, his voice sharp and impatient. "It takes three days for the Mirakuru to stabilize in their systems and turn them into proper soldiers. But I don't have three days."
He glanced around the factory, his mind swirling with rage. "I was at Oliver's house today. I saw him." Slade's one visible eye burned with fury. "Do you know how much I wanted to snap his neck right then and there? But I held back. I'll do worse than kill him—I'll destroy his city, tear down everything he loves, and then I'll kill him."
Sebastian nodded silently, understanding Slade's obsession. But before he could respond, a low, chilling voice echoed through the factory.
"In fact, you don't have to wait three days."
The sudden intrusion sent a shiver down Slade's spine. His instincts flared, and he unsheathed his alloy sword in a fluid motion, turning toward the voice. Sebastian, equally startled, pulled a pistol from his holster and aimed.
Emerging from the shadows was a figure in a yellow suit, his features obscured by a blur of speed. The man's glowing red eyes pierced through the dim light, and a lightning bolt emblem gleamed on his chest.
"Who are you?" Slade demanded, his voice low and threatening. Without waiting for an answer, he lunged, swinging his sword with deadly precision.
Sebastian joined in, firing his pistol rapidly at the yellow-suited figure. Bullets whizzed through the air, and the blade of Slade's sword sliced toward its target. But before either attack could connect, the figure vanished in a crackling blur of electricity. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Slade stumbled slightly, his swing cutting through empty air. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the factory walls.
"What the hell just happened?" Slade barked, scanning the room.
"Where did he go?" Sebastian added, his voice edged with panic.
Before they could regroup, a mocking laugh rang out from behind them. Turning sharply, they saw the man in yellow standing nonchalantly, holding a small vial of glowing blue liquid in his hand.
"I'm behind you, Mr. Wilson," the man said, his voice dripping with smug amusement. "It took me a while to track you down, but here we are."
Slade tightened his grip on his sword, his one eye narrowing. "Who the hell are you? And what do you want?"
The man in yellow raised the vial, letting the liquid catch the light. "Who I am isn't important. What matters is this: I have a serum that can accelerate the effects of Mirakuru. Your soldiers won't need three days—they'll transform in hours. Stronger, faster, deadlier."
Slade's skepticism didn't waver, but the prospect of immediate results intrigued him. "And what do you get out of this?"
The man in yellow smirked, his red eyes gleaming. "Revenge. You want to destroy Oliver Queen, and I want to ruin Barry Allen. It's as simple as that."
Slade studied him for a moment, then lowered his sword slightly. "Fine. Give me the serum."
The man in yellow tossed the vial to Slade, who caught it deftly. "Go ahead, Wilson. Unleash hell on Star City. And when you're done, remember who helped you."
With that, the man in yellow vanished once more, leaving only the faint crackle of residual electricity in the air. Slade stared at the vial in his hand, his mind already racing with the destruction he would soon unleash.
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