After three rounds of heavy modification, the hoverboard was now an entirely different creature.
If Dr. Hoffman himself saw it, he'd probably swear it wasn't his work at all.
The original flat design had been reshaped into a V-shaped frame, wide in front and narrow in the rear.
The pilot stood at the front, and once in flight mode, a pair of locking braces extended from the chassis, fastening securely around the legs and waist.
Theoretically, it could handle advanced aerial maneuvers without flinging the rider off mid-air.
Green Goblin might rely on his enhanced reflexes and insane stunts to fly, but Thea wasn't about to copy that.
To her, all those mid-air flips and "separation tricks" were nothing short of suicidal.
One moment of dizziness and boom—you're modern art on the pavement.
As a perfectly mortal young woman, Thea valued her life far more than her style points.
So she'd gone with the "stay-secure, don't-die" model, sacrificing some freedom of movement for safety.
The hoverboard's underside was lined with chrome-coated magnetic rotors.
When powered up, they emitted a magnetic repulsion opposite to Earth's own, causing the board to levitate.
Increasing the output strengthened the lift—enough, in theory, to rise over a thousand meters into the air.
By shifting the direction of the magnetic thrust, it could travel long distances cleanly and quietly.
If Earth's magnetic field ever vanished, well… that would be the end of Thea Queen.
As for weapons, she decided to keep things simple.
Her recurve bow could shoot at 300 feet per second (about 91 m/s) with a range of 150 meters, up to 30 arrows per minute.
High-tech gear was out of the question—too expensive, too noisy.
Arrows were cheap, silent, and eco-friendly.
Late that night, under the cool glow of the city, Thea stepped outside with Felicity.
She zipped up her G-suit, locked into the brace, and took a deep breath.
"Start."
The hoverboard hummed quietly, lifting off the ground with perfect balance.
"Yes!" Thea grinned, pumping a fist at Felicity.
"Vitals steady," Felicity reported, eyes on her tablet. "Blood pressure normal, heart rate slightly high—probably adrenaline. Let's log the rest."
They tested altitude first.
Not knowing how many radar towers operated in Star City, Thea didn't risk the full kilometer.
Even with stealth coating on the board, she herself was still visible.
She stopped at 100 meters, roughly the height of a 33-story building—more than enough for urban patrol work.
Next came the speed test.
"Accelerate—eighty kilometers per hour. Stable."
"One-fifty—good."
"Two-twenty—blood flow increasing, heart rate elevated but steady."
"Three hundred—stop! You're near your limit, Thea!"
She eased off the throttle, heart racing from exhilaration rather than strain.
Three hundred kilometers per hour—not bad for a first run.
With more training, she'd go faster.
The feeling was indescribable—wind slicing past her face, the city shrinking beneath her, mind blank except for the rush of motion.
No politics, no pressure, no plans. Just speed.
No wonder so many people loved racing—it was freedom distilled into motion.
She looped low around the city at fifty meters, laughing.
When she tried to offer Felicity a ride, her friend refused outright—terrified of heights.
Thea teased her all the way back down.
Now came the "heroic" phase of the evening—what she and Felicity called justice work, though it was closer to high-altitude burglary practice.
Over the G-suit, she threw on a red leather jacket to conceal the tactical design.
She had wanted to wear a bulletproof vest underneath, but four layers made her look like a stuffed turkey.
She compromised with two slim fiber-reinforced plates over her chest and back.
Hair tied up, hood down, a quick mirror check—she looked strikingly like her TV counterpart.
No cheap domino mask this time; she wore infrared ballistic goggles made from Lexan resin.
Bow. Arrows. Katana. Dagger. Ready.
Under Felicity's eager gaze, Thea kicked off and soared into the night sky in search of trouble.
But Star City was eerily quiet.
No pedestrians, no thieves, no crime.
A peaceful city—great for citizens, terrible for vigilantes.
She circled for nearly an hour, muttering curses.
All this money and prep for a citywide curfew? Should've done market research.
Then Felicity's voice cut through the earpiece:
"Thea! Remember Frank Bertinelli—the mob boss? He's on the move. Three of his guys are chasing a man named Michael Astor. You want to check it out?"
Thea's eyes lit up. Michael Astor? Helena Bertinelli's fiancé? The one her father had ordered killed?
"Location?"
"West intersection of Cypress Street. Their car speeds are off the charts. Be careful—they're armed."
"Please," Thea smirked. "They can't out-run me."
She climbed to a hundred meters, aligned her compass, and shot forward.
Within moments, she spotted two cars below—one chasing, one fleeing—gunfire flashing from the rear vehicle.
So the shooters are in the back car, she concluded. Meaning the guy up front's the victim.
Reaching for her quiver, she drew one of her Frost Arrows—a custom design filled with hyper-compressed liquid nitrogen, ten times denser than standard cryo tanks.
On impact, it would burst into vapor and absorb surrounding heat, creating frostbite levels near –100°C.
She didn't plan to kill anyone.
This was just a clean intervention.
Aiming carefully, Thea locked onto the rear car's front wheel hub and whispered—
"Let's cool things down."