In less than ten seconds, Oliver had loosed over a hundred arrows. While shooting, he continuously repositioned himself to avoid giving the Flash any opening to exploit.
A hundred arrows flew from different angles and heights, each one aimed at Barry. Whether it was precision, positioning, or seizing the perfect moment to strike, Oliver could be called the world's greatest master of archery—bar none.
In terms of pure archery skill, forget the original Yao Fei or even the current Thea—even Batman and Ra's al Ghul couldn't match Oliver's technique with a bow.
If other people's ranged attacks maxed out at level ten, Oliver's ceiling was level twelve. That was his gift. Now, after half a year of training under Ra's al Ghul and with the assistance of his high-tech armor, his natural talent had been amplified many times over—more than a dozen times, even.
Hitting the Flash mid-sprint was no easy feat. It required prediction, anticipation, and accounting for the wind resistance generated by his frantic running—all factors a bowman had to carefully consider. Oliver excelled in all these areas.
Despite more than half the arrows missing their mark, the remaining ones still found their target.
The Flash, realizing the danger he was in, pushed his already impressive speed even higher—visibly faster than his usual limits.
Unfortunately, a few of Oliver's arrows were simply unavoidable. The instant they struck, Barry saw through Oliver's optical camouflage and, without any training, instinctively learned to throw lightning.
The golden lightning, born from his running and infused with traces of the Speed Force, was incredibly fast—arriving in the blink of an eye. Though fired later than Oliver's attacks, the bolt struck first.
The lightning was too quick, exceeding Oliver's reaction time. Even though his suit's auxiliary system detected the energy signature, he couldn't dodge. The system defaulted to its backup plan: activating the energy shield to take the hit head-on.
BOOM!
The lightning struck the shield, rapidly draining the suit's power reserves. The clash between golden electricity and armor energy ended with the armor victorious—but barely. What had been nearly full power dropped to minimum operational levels, with total energy below thirty percent. That single strike had drained more than half the suit's capacity.
The Flash, however, had it worse. At least Oliver had armor to protect him. Barry was facing arrows forged from Olympian metal with nothing but his flesh and blood.
Oliver's attack angles had been calculated by the suit's onboard computer, accounting for every possible evasion route. Despite Barry's best efforts, six arrows found their mark.
The Flash looked absolutely miserable—with six arrows from different angles embedded in his body, trembling as he half-knelt on the ground. Blood flowed freely from multiple wounds. To any observer, he looked like he could drop dead at any moment.
As Oliver took aim once more, the Flash—weakened by blood loss—finally collapsed face-first onto the pavement.
"You bastard!!" someone roared from a distance. Seeing Oliver maintain his drawn bow stance, the man threw caution to the wind and fired two shots.
"Glock 18," the armor's AI announced helpfully, highlighting the attacker on Oliver's HUD.
How advanced! When fighting drug dealers back in Star City, this suit's capabilities had never really shown themselves. But now, after this intense battle with Barry, Oliver finally understood many of its functions.
Ordinary pistol rounds weren't even worth dodging—they didn't require the energy shield. The armor's base defense could handle them easily. Besides, he recognized the anxious middle-aged Black man.
Joe West, Barry Allen's adoptive father and a Central City detective. Also Iris West's dad.
His daughter might not know the Flash's true identity, but Joe certainly did. Watching Oliver turn Barry into a human pincushion had driven him past his professional restraint—now he just wanted revenge for his foster son.
"Barry's fine," Oliver said through his voice modulator, keeping his tone low. "He seemed to be under some kind of influence earlier."
Before Joe could respond, several people from S.T.A.R. Labs arrived at the scene in their van. The disguised Reverse-Flash—seeing that Barry wasn't seriously hurt—let out a relieved breath. This kid really had a talent for getting himself killed.
The group wanted to get Barry back for treatment. After a moment's thought, Oliver followed them.
On one hand, he was concerned for his friend. On the other, he worried that when Barry woke up, he might still be in the same state. If he was still out of control and flew into a rage, killing everyone at the lab, that would be a disaster. Having Oliver along provided some insurance.
Unlike the original timeline, where Oliver had been surrounded by civilians and had to hide his identity to protect his family, things were different now. Thanks to Thea's interference, even the natives of some South Pacific island probably knew the Queen family name by now. Whether he hid his identity or not hardly mattered anymore.
Besides, these people were all Barry's friends. Oliver felt he could trust them. Shortly after getting in the vehicle, he removed his helmet.
Learning his true identity naturally sparked a round of amazement, though with Thea having set the precedent, Oliver's reveal wasn't quite as shocking.
Not long after returning to the lab, Barry finally regained consciousness—though he was weak as hell. Even though Oliver had avoided hitting vital areas, six supersonic arrows piercing his body would take time to heal, even with Speed Force-enhanced cellular regeneration. And he'd lost a lot of blood.
"Is this the armor designed by Dr. Queen? Remarkable work," the Reverse Flash said, examining Oliver's discarded suit with obvious admiration.
As a devoted sister-obsessed brother, Oliver felt more pleased hearing someone praise his sister than being praised himself. He chatted casually with the Reverse Flash for a bit before finally getting to the point. "What exactly happened to Barry?"
"This man's name is Roy Bivolo," Cisco said, pulling up images on the large screen. One showed an ordinary middle-aged man; the other, from a crime scene, showed him with glowing crimson eyes.
"His ability is bizarre. Anyone who looks into his eyes becomes overwhelmingly angry. He's already caused several riots that the Flash had to stop. We thought Barry could resist Bivolo's power, but apparently..."
"We should catch him as soon as possible. This guy's dangerous," Oliver said, ready to move.
Cisco pulled up another video, looking somewhat embarrassed. "While you and the Flash were fighting, he was taken by a group of unknown individuals."
Huh? Oliver set down his bow and watched the video.
The footage showed more than a dozen fully armed operatives, all wearing specialized goggles.
"Probably some kind of light-filtering equipment," Cisco explained, though no one was really paying attention.
The unknown operatives were clearly well-trained, working in perfect coordination—some breaching doors, others providing cover, still others handling the capture.
The entire operation took less than ten seconds. The middle-aged man named Bivolo was subdued and dragged away, his bags of stolen cash left behind. The team worked with practiced efficiency, extracting their target cleanly.