The Queen's Gambit incident affected many people, but two families bore the greatest weight of its devastation.
One was the Queen family. The other was the Lance family.
Quentin Lance was a detective in Starling City and father to Laurel and Sara Lance. Sara's death had been the worst blow of his life. When Laurel had been dating Oliver Queen, Quentin had opposed the relationship fiercely. He and Laurel had argued about it more times than he could count. In the end, he'd managed to keep his eldest daughter under his watchful eye—but his younger daughter had slipped past his guard entirely. He hated Oliver Queen for what he'd done. He hated himself even more. Now that only Laurel remained, his discipline grew stricter, and a quiet resentment crept into how he looked at her. If she'd never gotten involved with Oliver Queen, Sara would never have been caught up in any of this.
A grown daughter, however, cannot be controlled forever. Laurel was already in college and had decided to live on campus. The school wasn't far from home, but she couldn't face her father's grief-stricken expression day after day. She couldn't face the reminders of her sister scattered throughout the house. She didn't know whether to hate Sara for stealing her boyfriend or to mourn her passing.
Avoidance was the easiest path.
Unfortunately, her father disagreed. They argued about it—badly—and Laurel stormed out.
She walked aimlessly through the streets, not paying attention to where she was going. By the time she looked up, she'd wandered into the slums. Still dazed and angry, she didn't notice she was being followed. A man in a black hoodie trailed behind her at a careful distance. When she turned instinctively into a secluded alley, the man lunged from behind and shoved her deeper into the shadows.
Laurel stumbled but caught herself before she fell. She spun around to find a gun barrel pointed at her face.
"Hand over your valuables, girl."
Robbery.
She was being robbed.
The realization hit her all at once—what was happening, where she was. As a Starling City native and a detective's daughter, Laurel made the smart choice. She handed over her bag without resistance.
"Good girl. Smart."
The mugger snatched it with a triumphant grin, but he didn't leave. His eyes moved over her slowly. Her face was slightly long, but her features were delicate, framed by shoulder-length brown hair. She was tall, with long straight legs. A genuine beauty.
"Let me make sure you don't have any other valuables on you." He gestured with the gun, smiling as he stepped closer.
Laurel retreated slightly, forcing herself to stay calm. "My father is a police officer. If you just take the bag, I'll chalk it up to bad luck. But if you lay a hand on me, every cop in this city will be hunting you down."
"You trying to scare me?" The mugger stopped, scowling. "You think I give a damn about cops?"
"You're not afraid?"
"Of course I'm not—" He cut himself off. Laurel hadn't spoken. That had been a man's voice. He raised the gun and spun toward the alley entrance.
A man with Asian features was strolling toward them.
"The hell? You trying to play hero?" the mugger snarled.
Jack Kadere chuckled, shaking his head. He looked past the mugger to Laurel. "Do you need help?"
"If... if you can," Laurel said, uncertain.
"Of course."
Jack walked toward them, smiling brightly.
"Stop right there, or I shoot." The mugger leveled the gun at Jack's chest. "I'll do it. Don't think I won't."
Jack didn't slow down.
Bang!
The gunshot echoed through the alley.
The mugger's eyes went wide. No wound. No blood. The man hadn't even flinched.
Did I miss?
He fired again. And again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
His vision blurred. The man had moved—impossibly fast—and was suddenly standing right in front of him.
"So fast—"
He tried to stumble backward, but Jack was already smiling at him.
Infinite Superposition. Fifty times.
Jack's fist drove forward.
It punched clean through the mugger's skull.
The blow entered from the front and exited through the back of his head in a spray of blood and brain matter. The mess splattered across Laurel's face and clothes. The smell of copper and viscera flooded the alley. Laurel stood frozen, watching Jack pull his fist free from the ruined head. The body crumpled to the ground. Jack bent down, retrieved her bag from the dead man's grip, and held it out to her with a pleasant smile.
"Your bag."
Laurel stared at the hand offering it to her—still dripping with blood and fragments of brain—and her legs gave out. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.
Jack looked down at her unconscious form and laughed softly. "Looks like I'll need to work on her courage first if I want her to become Black Canary. Otherwise she'll just keep fainting and handing out free kills."
He hoisted Laurel over his shoulder and walked out of the alley.
It was over an hour before a patrol car discovered the body and cordoned off the scene.
By then, Quentin Lance had calmed down. Regret had replaced his anger. He picked up the phone to call his daughter—to apologize, to ask her to come home.
Her phone was already off.