The tension in the Queen mansion was palpable, the air thick with the echoes of Slade Wilson's rage and the clash of steel on steel. Henry stood his ground, his breathing heavy, his body bruised but unbroken. Across from him, Slade sneered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but his grip on the sword never wavered.
The chaos of the moment felt surreal, as though time itself had bent around this confrontation. Henry's mind was racing, calculating his next move, even as his chest heaved with each breath. He couldn't afford to let his guard down—not even for a second.
Slade circled him like a predator, his voice a low growl. "Do you feel it, Henry? That sense of inevitability? You can't stop this. You can't stop me."
Henry's gaze flicked briefly to Isabel, who stood near the staircase, her hands gripping the railing tightly as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Her wide, terrified eyes locked on his, silently pleading for him to end this. She hadn't fled, and for a brief moment, Henry admired her courage. But her presence also heightened the stakes. He had to finish this quickly.
"I've stopped worse," Henry shot back, his tone laced with defiance. "And I'm not about to let you destroy what's left of my family."
Slade's laugh was dark and humorless. "Family? You think this is about family? You think you're some kind of hero, standing here in your gilded palace, playing protector? You're just like Oliver. Weak. Naive."
The mention of Oliver struck a nerve, and Henry's fists clenched. "Don't you dare compare me to him," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm nothing like Oliver."
"Oh, but you are," Slade said, his voice dripping with malice. "You both betrayed me. You both took everything from me."
Flashback: Lian Yu, Years Ago
The fire crackled in the darkness, casting long shadows on the sand. Henry, Oliver, Slade, and Shado sat in uneasy silence. The island had a way of eroding trust, of twisting alliances into something fragile and fleeting.
Shado's laughter broke the tension, her voice like music against the oppressive weight of the island. She was the glue that held them together, the spark of light in an otherwise bleak existence. Henry had respected her strength, her resilience. But Oliver… Oliver had loved her.
"Don't take everything so seriously, Henry," Shado had said, her smile disarming. "Sometimes you have to find joy in the little things."
Henry had allowed himself a small smile in return, but his gaze had lingered on Slade, who was sharpening his blade with a quiet intensity. There had always been something simmering beneath Slade's surface, something dangerous.
It all fell apart the day Shado died.
The memory was seared into Henry's mind: the sound of gunfire, the flash of blood against the sand, Oliver's anguished scream. Slade had been inconsolable, his grief quickly giving way to rage.
"You let her die!" Slade had roared at Oliver, his fists clenched, his eyes wild with fury. "You could have saved her!"
"There was no time—" Oliver had started, but Slade cut him off.
"There's always time!" he shouted. "You just didn't care enough to make it!"
Henry had tried to mediate, to calm Slade down, but it was useless. The bond they had shared, the camaraderie forged in the crucible of Lian Yu, was gone. Slade had walked away that day, and when he returned, he wasn't the same man.
Present Day
The memory fueled Henry now, grounding him as Slade lunged forward. Their blades clashed again, the sound echoing through the mansion. Henry pushed back with all his strength, forcing Slade to take a step back.
"You can't blame Oliver forever," Henry said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "What happened to Shado was a tragedy, but it wasn't his fault."
Slade's expression twisted with rage. "You don't get to lecture me about fault, Henry. You weren't the one who loved her. You didn't have to watch her die."
"I lost people too," Henry countered. "We all did. But you let your grief consume you. You became the very thing you swore to fight against."
Slade roared in anger, his attacks becoming more frenzied. Henry dodged and parried, his movements fluid despite the fatigue setting in. He needed to end this, but Slade's skill and strength were formidable.
A sudden crash interrupted the fight, and both men turned toward the source of the noise. Moira and Thea had entered the room, their argument escalating into a shouting match. Thea's voice was filled with anguish, her words cutting through the tension like a knife.
"You lied to me, Mom!" Thea screamed, tears streaming down her face. "You let me believe Malcolm was just some monster, but he was my father! And now he's gone. I've lost him, and I didn't even get a chance to know him!"
Moira's face was pale, her hands trembling. "Thea, please, I was trying to protect you—"
"Protect me?" Thea snapped. "You don't get to decide what I can handle! You've taken everything from me!"
Slade's laughter drew their attention back to him. "Ah, the dysfunction of the Queen family. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"
Henry's eyes darted between Thea and Moira, who were both frozen in place, and Slade, who was now grinning maliciously. He needed to regain control of the situation before it spiraled further out of hand.
"Thea, Moira, get out of here," Henry ordered, his voice firm. "Now."
But Thea didn't move. Her gaze shifted to Slade, her expression one of defiance. "Who the hell is this guy?"
Slade smirked. "I'm the ghost of your family's sins."
Henry stepped between Slade and Thea, his stance protective. "This isn't your fight, Thea. Go."
For a moment, it seemed like she might argue, but then Moira took her by the arm and led her away, her expression one of quiet fear.
As they disappeared up the stairs, Slade turned his attention back to Henry. "You're running out of people to protect, Henry. How long before there's no one left?"
Henry didn't respond. He simply raised his weapon, his resolve unshaken. The fight wasn't over yet. And as long as he had breath in his lungs, he would defend his family—even from the man who had once been his ally.