The tension in the air felt suffocating as Henry tightened his grip on the sword, his gaze locked on Slade Wilson. The mansion was eerily silent except for the faint echo of retreating footsteps as Moira led Thea away. The quiet was deceptive, masking the storm brewing between the two men who now stood toe to toe.
Slade tilted his head, his single eye gleaming with sadistic amusement. "You've always been good at pretending, Henry. Pretending to be the protector, the savior. But deep down, you know the truth. You're just like me."
Henry's jaw tightened, his mind working through the next move. Slade's words stung, not because they were true, but because they touched a nerve—a shadow of doubt he buried deep within himself.
"You don't know me, Slade," Henry said, his voice steady but edged with cold anger. "You never did. You were too blinded by your own demons to see anyone else."
Slade chuckled darkly, pacing slowly as if savoring the moment. "And yet, here we are. You with a sword in your hand, trying to play hero, and me reminding you how far you've fallen."
Henry didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he shifted his stance, readying himself for the inevitable clash. "You came here for revenge. To settle a score with Oliver. But he's not here, is he? So what's your plan now, Slade? Take out your anger on me?"
Slade stopped pacing, his expression hardening. "Oh, I have plans, Henry. Don't you worry about that."
Flashback: Lian Yu, Years Ago
The air on Lian Yu was heavy with humidity, the scent of salt and earth clinging to everything. Henry sat on a log near the campfire, sharpening a makeshift spear. Oliver was pacing restlessly nearby, his gaze darting toward the dense jungle as if expecting danger to emerge at any moment.
Slade and Shado sat together on the other side of the fire. Shado's laughter cut through the oppressive silence, her voice light and musical despite the harsh conditions of the island. She was the glue holding them together, her strength and resilience inspiring those around her.
"You're too tense, Oliver," Shado teased, smiling as she leaned against Slade. "If you don't relax, you'll burn yourself out."
"I'll relax when we're off this damn island," Oliver muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her presence had a way of softening him.
Henry glanced at Slade, who was sharpening his blade with an almost obsessive focus. There was something about the older man that always seemed on edge, as though he were a coiled spring ready to snap. But when Shado touched his arm, his expression softened.
They were a team, bound together by survival, but Henry had always known the bonds were fragile. The island tested everyone in ways they couldn't predict.
And then it all fell apart.
The memory was vivid, burned into Henry's mind: the sound of gunfire, Shado's scream, the splash of red against the sand. Oliver's panicked cries echoed in his ears, mingling with Slade's enraged shouts.
"You let her die!" Slade had roared, his fists clenched, his body trembling with grief and rage.
"There was nothing I could do!" Oliver had shouted back, his voice cracking. "It was her or Sara—"
"I don't care!" Slade bellowed, his voice raw with pain. "You chose wrong!"
Henry had tried to intervene, to calm them both down, but it was too late. The damage was done. The fragile trust they had built was shattered, and Slade had walked away, consumed by his grief and anger.
When he returned, he wasn't the same man. Mirakuru had turned him into something monstrous, something unstoppable. And Henry knew, even then, that the bond they had shared could never be repaired.
Present Day
The memory faded as Slade lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Henry barely managed to parry the blow, the force of the impact sending a jolt through his arms. Slade's strength was almost inhuman, a lingering effect of the Mirakuru coursing through his veins.
"You've gotten better," Slade said with a smirk, pressing his weight against Henry's blade. "But you're still no match for me."
Henry gritted his teeth, using the momentum to twist away and create some distance. "I don't have to beat you, Slade. I just have to stop you."
Slade laughed, the sound cold and menacing. "Stop me? You can't even save your own family from tearing itself apart. What makes you think you can stop me?"
Henry's gaze flicked toward the staircase, where Isabel still stood frozen in shock. He couldn't afford to let her be collateral damage in this fight. He needed to end this—now.
With a burst of speed, Henry lunged at Slade, his movements calculated and precise. Their blades clashed again and again, the sound ringing through the room like a deadly symphony. Henry's focus was unrelenting, his mind a blur of strategy and instinct.
But Slade was relentless, his attacks growing more aggressive with each passing second. He was stronger, faster, and fueled by a rage that seemed unquenchable.
Henry's muscles burned with the effort of keeping up, but he refused to back down. This wasn't just a fight—it was a test of his resolve, a battle to protect everything he held dear.
And then, with a sudden burst of strength, Slade disarmed him, sending his sword clattering to the floor. Henry barely had time to react before Slade's blade was at his throat, the cold steel biting into his skin.
"It's over," Slade said, his voice low and menacing. "You've lost."
Henry stared at him, his chest heaving with exertion. But he didn't look afraid. Instead, he smiled—a small, defiant smile that only seemed to infuriate Slade further.
"Maybe," Henry said, his voice steady despite the blade at his throat. "But you'll never break me."
The sound of approaching footsteps made Slade glance toward the doorway. Oliver stood there, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. In his hand was his bow, an arrow already nocked and aimed at Slade.
"Let him go," Oliver said, his voice cold and commanding.
Slade's grip on the sword tightened, but he didn't move. The tension in the room was electric, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved pain.
For a moment, it seemed as though Slade might comply. But then he smiled, a dark, twisted smile that sent a chill down Henry's spine.
"This isn't over," Slade said, his voice dripping with menace. "Not by a long shot."
He released Henry and stepped back, his gaze lingering on Oliver. "I'll be seeing you, kid."
And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a silence that felt deafening.
Henry sank to the floor, his body aching, his mind racing. Isabel was by his side in an instant, her hands trembling as she touched his face.
"Are you okay?" she whispered, her voice shaky.
Henry nodded, though he wasn't sure if he believed it himself. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "But this isn't over. Not by a long shot."