Calculating wind resistance and trajectory, Thea drew her bow, adjusted for crosswind, and let the arrow fly.
Whoosh!
The Frost Arrow cut through the air like a streak of silver light.
The liquid nitrogen did its job perfectly — even if her refining skills were rough, it was more than enough for dealing with common thugs.
The arrow struck the rear car's wheel hub, and an instant wave of icy mist exploded outward.
Within seconds, the tire froze solid.
The driver, still flooring the accelerator, barely had time to register a sudden chill before the entire vehicle flipped end over end through the air like an Olympic gymnast.
Thea winced.
…Okay, maybe that was a bit too effective.
She'd only meant to stop them, not send them flying like acrobats.
The car rolled six or seven times before slamming to a stop upside down, its passengers motionless.
She squinted through her visor.
They're not dead, right?
Just as she exhaled, the front car suddenly veered off and smashed into a billboard.
"What the—?" she muttered. "Did someone else take a shot?"
"Thea," Felicity's voice crackled through the comms, "I checked every camera in the area. No one else nearby. But…"
"But what?"
"During your shot, one stray bullet from the pursuers hit the front car's tire. Pure bad luck."
Thea's jaw dropped.
Seriously? Ten minutes of nonstop gunfire, and the one time I intervene, the only stray bullet in the city finds its mark?
Truly, destiny had a sick sense of humor.
Down below, the man in the front car — Michael — kicked open the door and stumbled out, limping.
He ran twenty meters before realizing no one was chasing him anymore.
Turning back, he froze. The pursuing car lay upside down, half-covered in ice.
"What… what happened?" he mumbled, completely lost.
Then the car door creaked open, and a bloodied bald man crawled out, dragging one twisted leg behind him, leaving a trail of crimson.
Thea winced.
"Felicity, call an ambulance. Now."
She glanced again at Michael — who stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly.
You're still standing there? You just watched your would-be killers get wrecked by ice magic and you're not running?
Helena Bertinelli really had questionable taste in men — risk your life to avenge your father's murderer for this guy? There were billions of men in the world, lady.
Sighing, Thea surveyed the wreck through infrared.
Two faint heat signatures inside — unconscious but alive.
The bald one was barely clinging on.
She decided not to interfere further. "Let him keep his wallet for the hospital bills," she muttered, turning her board skyward.
After another two patrol loops, she'd only found small fry — a ten-year-old street dealer and a homeless man mugging someone for a hamburger.
No "big fish," no payday.
Thea returned to the base, exhausted and broke.
"Felicity," she groaned, throwing her hood aside, "we're doomed. The economy's collapsing, our trust fund's locked, and I'm practically a vigilante on a student budget."
All that liquid nitrogen and equipment had cost a fortune.
"Why is it," she complained, "that I have millions in assets but can't spend a dime of it freely?"
Felicity shrugged. "Welcome to capitalism."
Even Tony Stark, Thea mused, probably came clean as Iron Man because he couldn't hide the bills anymore.
If his suits cost more than Hammer's drones — and they did — no accountant on Earth could explain the missing money.
Felicity, ever the homebody hacker, had no brilliant ideas either.
"Guess we keep patrolling," she sighed. "Maybe next time we'll get lucky."
Over the next few nights, "luck" was in short supply.
Thea caught plenty of petty thieves and lowlifes, but no major criminals.
She didn't even make the news — no bounty posters, no rumors, not even a blurry photo on the forums.
Star City remained exactly as chaotic as before.
Am I really that invisible? she thought bitterly.
Her daily routine had settled: train with Lady Shiva in the mornings, "patrol" at night, and sleep through office hours while Felicity covered for her.
It wasn't glamorous, but it worked.
Until one morning—
"Wake up. Someone's here for you," Felicity said, shaking her shoulder.
Thea rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep, and saw a tall woman in heels standing by the door.
She looked familiar, but Thea couldn't place her at first.
"Miss Queen," the woman said calmly, "I need your help."
That voice — smooth, confident, dangerously charming.
Thea's mind snapped awake.
Oh, great.
"Selina Kyle," the woman introduced herself with a faint smile. "You can call me Catwoman."
Thea arched an eyebrow. "Thea Queen. You can call me Red Arrow."
The two women — predator and protege — shook hands, acknowledging each other with mutual respect.
Selina's gaze flicked briefly toward Felicity. Clearly, she wanted privacy.
But Thea waved it off. "She's not an outsider. She's my partner."
Catwoman hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. I'll get straight to it."
Her eyes darkened.
"Batman's in trouble. And I need your help."