[Queen Industries Abandoned Factory, Starling City — October 2nd, 2016, 9:47 PM]
The shrill ringtone cut through the silence, echoing off the factory's corroded walls. Jack glanced down at Laurel's bag, the phone's glow bleeding through the canvas. He crouched, fished it out, and checked the screen.
Unknown number. No contact name.
He swiped to answer.
"Is that you?" Felicity's voice came through tight with anxiety.
"Felicity?" He hadn't expected her to call Laurel's phone.
The relief in her exhale was audible. "There are seven or eight people outside—well-equipped, definitely not cops. They're moving in. You need to get out of there."
"Can you identify them?" Jack glanced at Laurel's crumpled form, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Yes, but—"
"Tell me when you find out."
He slipped the phone into his pocket without ending the call, then surveyed the debris around him. Two steel reinforcement bars lay half-buried in rubble. He picked them up, tested their weight, and bent them into U-shapes with no more effort than folding cardboard.
The metal groaned but offered no resistance.
He hauled Laurel upright, dragged her to the wall, and spread her arms. The bent steel bars wrapped around her wrists and punched straight through the concrete with a dull crunch, dust showering down around the entry points.
Poor girl. She'd encountered him twice now. Fainted both times. Been restrained with steel bars both times.
Last time on the ground. This time on the wall.
At least he hadn't stripped her clothes off yet.
"I found something."
Felicity's voice emerged from his pocket. He retrieved the phone.
"Most of them are masked—can't get facial features. But there's one who looks like their leader. Dinah Lance. Quentin Lance's ex-wife. Laurel's mother." A pause laden with disbelief. "I tried pulling her detailed files, but her security clearance is through the roof. Same level as yours, actually. She wouldn't have any connection to you, would she?"
"None whatsoever." Jack chuckled softly. "Good work. I'll reward you when I get back."
"Be careful."
He ended the call, deleted the record from Laurel's phone, and aimed her flashlight directly at her unconscious face. The beam carved harsh shadows across her features—bruised cheekbone, parted lips, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm.
Jack stood beside her, bathed in the edge of that cone of light, and waited.
The factory door creaked open an inch.
Clatter-roll.
A flashbang skittered across the concrete and detonated—white light erupting through the space, scorching the darkness away.
The door slammed wide. Figures in tactical gear and balaclavas poured through in tight formation, boots pounding against debris, rifles sweeping the room. Within two seconds, every muzzle found its mark.
Their target stood exactly where he'd been, smiling at them with the easy patience of someone watching children play.
Click-click-click.
High heels on concrete. A middle-aged woman walked through the doorway, face blank as carved stone. Her blonde hair was pulled back severely, and she wore a dark blazer over tactical underlayers—neither fully field agent nor fully bureaucrat. Her eyes moved from Jack to Laurel pinned against the wall, and a small crease formed between her brows.
She opened her mouth to speak.
Jack moved first.
Zzzzzt-CRACK.
Blue-white current erupted around him, crawling up his arms and gathering at his fingertips. He thrust one hand forward, and the electricity screamed outward—not as a bolt, but as something alive. A serpent of pure voltage, jaws wide, body thick as a man's torso, surging across the factory floor.
It swallowed the tactical team whole.
Inside that blazing maw, rifles detonated in their owners' hands. Screams mixed with choked grunts. Bodies hit the ground, twitching, smoking, the stench of burnt polymer and singed fabric flooding the air.
The serpent roared past the fallen agents and stopped inches from Dinah Lance.
It coiled around her—not striking, not touching, but circling. Its massive head hovered at her shoulder, tongue of forked lightning flickering against her ear. Static lifted her hair, individual strands reaching toward the ceiling like desperate fingers.
She didn't move. Didn't blink. Stared straight at Jack as he approached, heels of his shoes grinding glass to powder.
"Surprised?" He tilted his head. "Unexpected?"
Thud.
Her knees buckled. She hit the concrete hard, composure shattering, eyes suddenly wide with naked terror.
"And here I thought you were calm because you'd seen it all." Jack paused, then laughed quietly. "Tell me. What's your identity?"
Dinah's gaze darted sideways—to the electric serpent breathing ozone against her neck, to her daughter crucified on the far wall, to her agents scattered across the floor like discarded dolls.
Eight trained operatives. Four seconds. The voltage alone should have killed him when he channeled it.
This wasn't in his file.
Her throat worked. She swallowed.
"Have you heard of A.R.G.U.S.?" Her voice came out steadier than her trembling hands. "It's a special department under the U.S. government. We monitor and respond to metahuman incidents."
She drew a slow breath, forcing control back into her features.
"What you did in Gotham has threatened the safety and stability of human society. We need to talk."
Jack had heard the name before. Government agencies in this world kept a lower profile than their Marvel counterparts, but A.R.G.U.S. had a reputation.
He hadn't expected Laurel's mother to be one of theirs, though.
So they were the ones who'd classified his file.
"This is your idea of talking?" He gestured lazily at the groaning bodies behind him.
"A necessary precaution," Dinah said. "Until we could assess your disposition. Notice that they didn't fire." Her eyes flicked toward Laurel. "And you've currently kidnapped an innocent woman. I can't judge your intentions under these circumstances."
She met his gaze, chin lifting despite the serpent coiled around her.
"Release her, and I'll offer you a formal apology. Then we can have a proper conversation."
Jack's smile widened. The electric serpent tightened its coils, sparks dancing across Dinah's blazer, and he stepped close enough to smell the fear-sweat beneath her perfume.
***********
Funny how I can't recall any Dinah Lance as an ARGUS agent. Author cooked things here.
In the Arrowverse, ✅ Lyla Michaels — John Diggle's ex-wife — is a high-ranking A.R.G.U.S. operative, eventually its Director, and plays a major role across multiple Arrowverse seasons and crossovers.