The police didn't believe Frank's story, but they had no evidence to explain the thunder, and they couldn't find Anthony Vensa's body.
More importantly, Vensa's own men corroborated Frank's account. In the end, the case was ruled a natural incident and quietly closed.
That didn't mean no one suspected a connection to Jack Kadere. A.R.G.U.S., for instance, had drawn its own conclusions—though the organization had temporarily ceased direct engagement.
After their last confrontation, A.R.G.U.S. had suspended all contact with Jack. Perhaps because of Laurel, they'd concluded that observation was the wiser approach. After all, setting aside some initial unpleasantness, Jack had been genuinely good to her.
The suit Laurel currently wore had come from Wayne Enterprises. There was also an unused sonic device from S.T.A.R. Labs in Central City. The means of acquisition weren't exactly honorable, but Jack had prepared all of it for her.
Then there was the matter of hiring Gotham's infamous cat burglar to train Laurel in combat. Between all of that, A.R.G.U.S. found it impossible to believe Laurel didn't matter to him. Even Laurel's mother, Dinah Lance, didn't believe it.
So A.R.G.U.S., having already abandoned armed conflict as a strategy, became even more committed to patience after learning about the thunder at East Port.
But A.R.G.U.S. wasn't the only party affected.
Helena had filmed Frank shooting Anthony Vensa, but that footage alone wasn't enough. She needed more evidence. So she maintained her current persona—and threw herself into it more deeply. Sometimes even Jack found it difficult to tell where the act ended and the real Helena began.
The results spoke for themselves. When Frank came to Jack for help again, no one spared Helena a second glance. No one suspected she might be collecting evidence.
Each job brought payment, and eventually Jack had enough to buy a villa outright. He gave it to Felicity. She was his girlfriend, after all, and beyond that, the location offered better concealment. It would be far more convenient for teaming up with Black Canary in the future.
What kind of superhero operation didn't have a proper base?
After the move, equipment was quietly installed in the basement. A small command center took shape.
In the master bedroom, Felicity wiped the last traces from her face and glanced at Jack, who was already sprawled across the mattress.
"The base equipment's all calibrated," she said. "When do you plan to formally introduce me to Laurel?"
"Tonight. I'll go pick her up in a bit."
Felicity nodded and curled against his side. "By the way—what was that thing you had me delete earlier?"
"Something that's going to drive someone to despair." Jack chuckled softly.
With his cooperation, Helena had gathered enough evidence to keep Frank in prison for the rest of his life. Her hope of success had grown larger with every passing day.
And then Jack had Felicity delete all of it.
Did you really think I didn't notice? The reason Helena had "figured things out" was so she could use him to collect evidence while keeping him pleased—banking on the assumption that he'd forgive her and wouldn't interfere.
Hope, followed by despair.
Jack found himself genuinely curious. How would Helena react when she discovered that everything she'd painstakingly gathered had been erased in an instant?
Would she collapse into numbness, sinking so deep that the woman called Huntress would never exist? Or would she face reality head-on and keep fighting, forging Huntress into being through sheer will?
Using a god's-eye perspective and overwhelming strength to shape someone's choices, to alter her destiny—regardless of whether the outcome proved interesting or boring, Jack was satisfied. He enjoyed the process.
What others thought, whether they understood him or not, didn't matter in the slightest.
As a transmigrator who understood this world, who possessed a mindset beyond its inhabitants and absolute power to back it up—what would be the point of crossing over if he didn't indulge himself? Why waste time caring about other people's eyes and opinions?
After resting for a while, Jack pulled Felicity into the bath with him. They cleaned up together, got dressed, and he drove out to pick up Laurel.
From the nearby woods, a woman watched the car slowly pull away from the villa.
Dark leather uniform. Eagle-shaped armor framing her face.
"Target has left the villa," she said. "We can move."
"Copy. En route to rendezvous."
She rolled her shoulders. Massive wings extended from her back, and she took to the air, following Jack's car from above.
A tire blew on the quiet road.
Jack frowned as several figures leaped out from the roadside.
Captain Cold—Leonard Snart. Heat Wave—Mick Rory. The Atom—Ray Palmer. White Canary—Sara Lance. Firestorm—Jefferson Jackson and Martin Stein. Hawkman—Carter Hall. And the former Time Master himself, Rip Hunter.
The Legends.
The original Legends, at that.
Malcolm Merlyn isn't dead yet. Laurel hasn't even become Black Canary. How are they already here?
Jack blinked in surprise and stepped out of the car. A shadow swept across the sky above him, and Hawkgirl—Kendra Saunders—dropped from the air to stand with the others.
The founding lineup of the Legends of Tomorrow.
Every single member, assembled before him.