Jason sat on the edge of his worn mattress, staring out the grimy window. The city spread before him, a patchwork of tall buildings and shadowed alleys, the sound of traffic humming below. The cracked rent notice burned in his pocket: three days to pay or be out on the streets.
He rubbed his temples. He'd been in this world for weeks now, enough time to pick up clues. The skyline wasn't like Gotham's dark spires, nor the ultra-modern shine of Metropolis. Instead, the mix of worn-down neighborhoods and pockets of redevelopment, the docks nearby, and the sharp outline of the Glades told him exactly where he was.
Star City.
He'd pieced it together from billboards, the local news on a flickering TV in a nearby convenience store, even the slang and accents of the people he'd heard. The police uniforms, the familiar logos on delivery trucks, the name of the local baseball team—all signs pointing to the city Oliver Queen once protected.
Knowing the city mattered. It gave him context. If he was going to survive, he needed to understand the streets, the power structures, the dangers.
Jason pulled out his phone, refreshing job listings, but the same problems persisted: no ID, no experience, no chance.
His stomach growled. The cursed energy within him was vast and steady—thanks to the Six Eyes—but that power didn't pay rent or fill an empty fridge.
He ran through his options.
Begging? Not him.
Odd jobs? Locked out
Selling belongings? Nothing left.
Asking for help? No one to turn to.
Only one option remained theft.
Jason decided to spend the day focusing on training. Not flashy attacks or reckless bursts of power, but control, precision, and endurance. He dove into the concept of CE Reinforcement: infusing cursed energy directly into his muscles and bones to boost strength, durability, and stamina without wasting energy. It wasn't raw power; it was making his entire body a vessel for energy, letting him sustain techniques like Limitless longer without crashing.
Starting with breathing exercises, he slowed his pulse and focused on the sensation of cursed energy under his skin. The Six Eyes gave him unmatched clarity — he could see tiny flows of energy coursing through his nerves and muscle fibers. Jason imagined that energy thickening, weaving tightly into every cell, strengthening him from the inside out.
Hours passed as he practiced CE Reinforcement, repeatedly channeling cursed energy into his limbs. Each time, he pushed a bit further, feeling himself grow heavier but tougher. His senses sharpened — every touch, every movement more deliberate, more connected. The ache from before faded, replaced by a steady hum of power.
With his body fortified, Jason turned back to Blue — the technique that compresses cursed energy into a focused force to manipulate space. Yesterday, it had flickered and faltered. Now, he refined it carefully, holding the blue glow steadily in his palm, energy no longer leaking away, the force anchored in his control.
Finally, he tested Limitless again. Before, he'd managed just under 50 seconds before the barrier thinned and failed. This time, with CE Reinforcement, he summoned it and held. Seconds stretched: 45… 50… 52… 54… before he released it, gasping but triumphant. The barrier held nearly 55 seconds — progress.
Jason collapsed, a crooked grin breaking through exhaustion. "Not Gojo yet," he muttered, "but getting there." This day of focused, deliberate training had given him a taste of control — the kind that would let him push even further. No flashy moves, no overreach. Just steady, relentless mastery.
With renewed confidence, Jason mapped out his options again, only now with a bit more patience and focus. The city was unforgiving, and fast money was scarce. But something had to give.
He spent the evening researching Star City's underworld. The major gangs: The Red Dart crew, the Triads, and the Longbow Hunters. Each ruthless, each controlling parts of the city with violence and fear.
The Red Darts ran a stash house near the east docks. Small operation, guarded but manageable. It wasn't the cleanest choice, but it was fast.
Night fell. Jason pulled on dark clothes, slipped on the stolen sunglasses to hide his eyes' glow, and melted into the city's shadows.
His Six Eyes scanned the area as he approached the warehouse. Two guards paced outside, one clutching a pistol, the other alert but distracted. A pit bull growled behind the gate.
Jason's pulse sped, but he controlled it. With a subtle flick of his fingers, he bent space, distorting the air like heat waves rising from asphalt. The guards barely noticed as he slipped past.
Inside, crates of cash and weapons were stacked high. Jason grabbed bundles of bills, the weight heavy in his pack.
Suddenly, a voice shouted.
"Hey! What the hell?"
A broad-shouldered man charged. Blue energy sparked in Jason's palm as he struck, sending the thug sprawling.
Without looking back, Jason dashed into the night.
Hidden in an alley, chest heaving, he realized he'd just crossed a line. Survival wasn't just about hiding anymore.
Somewhere nearby, two figures watched him disappear—Green Arrow and Speedy.