The Beginning Is Hard. So Is Everything After.

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Getting a room or staying outside.

Laurel did not want either choice.

But when Damon saw her stay silent for too long and moved as if he meant to drag her away, she had no choice but to pick the room.

They entered the motel, paid, got the key, and went upstairs.

Damon walked into the room with an arm around Laurel, who looked completely unwilling.

The door shut.

Laurel was already tense. When she saw Damon pull a camera from his bag and aim it at her, every bit of color drained from her face.

"Strip," Damon said.

Laurel stared at him through clenched teeth, furious and humiliated, then began taking off her clothes piece by piece.

She did not dare resist.

She was not afraid of dying.

She was afraid Damon would refuse to leave her family alone.

One garment after another fell away. Once she was naked, Damon adjusted the camera angle, fixed it in place, then turned back to his bag and took out a measuring tape.

He stepped in front of her and began measuring her carefully.

"What are you doing?" Laurel asked, letting him move her because she had no safer option.

"Making you an outfit."

Damon answered casually and gave her a squeeze while he worked.

"Your figure is better than my girlfriend's."

"Someone like you has a girlfriend?" Laurel mocked.

"I'll introduce you sometime."

Damon put the measuring tape away, picked up the camera, checked the shots, and returned everything to his bag.

"Your figure is good, but your physical condition is only average. Over the next while, you need to build stamina and strength. You need a strong body before you can even think about beating your enemy."

"You mean you?"

"I mean the person behind the Queen's Gambit disaster. The one who got your sister killed."

Damon did not care about her small act of defiance.

"His influence runs through Starling City, so if your identity is exposed, you will be in trouble. He is personally dangerous too. In hand-to-hand combat alone, even if I trained you to death, your talent might still not be enough to beat him. So I will prepare a few little toys for you."

"What you need to do is train, train, and train some more. Then you start with his claws."

Looking at Damon's serious expression, Laurel felt lost.

She knew Damon might not be a "bad" person in the simplest sense, but his behavior was reckless, coercive, and completely unrestrained. He was certainly not a good man.

What Laurel did not understand was why he had fixed on her.

She understood even less whether he was trying to hurt her or help her.

"Did you know Sara?" Laurel could not help asking.

"Sara? We never met."

Damon shook his head.

"Then why are you so obsessed with making me avenge her?" Laurel pressed, confused.

'Because I want you to become Black Canary early enough for the future Legends to come looking for me, obviously. And while I am at it, I can give Felicity a little side job.'

Damon looked at Laurel and smiled.

"Want to know? I'm not telling you. Right now, all you need to do is get stronger. You know basic conditioning exercises, right? Start."

"Now?"

Laurel froze, then reached down to pick up her clothes.

"No. Train like that. At least my eyes won't get bored."

Damon took her clothes first, tossed them onto the bed, and lay down. He lifted his chin slightly.

"Begin your performance."

Laurel bit down hard and glared at him, ashamed and angry.

She did not move.

Damon smiled without speaking and raised one finger.

Crackle.

Blue electricity sparked and leapt straight at her.

"Ah!"

Laurel jerked violently as the current hit.

"I am not trying to rush you," Damon said, smiling as he held up his finger, "but it is."

Laurel began, unwilling and rigid.

At first, the humiliation of being forced into training like this made her want to crawl into a crack in the floor and disappear. But gradually, Laurel realized Damon was not staring at her the entire time.

Even when his gaze landed on her body, it did not carry the disgusting hunger she had feared.

It felt more like supervision.

If she stopped or slowed down, he lifted a finger and "motivated" her to continue.

Little by little, Laurel began to focus.

Whatever Damon wanted, becoming stronger could not be wrong.

The law might uphold justice.

Power was what protected you.

Without realizing it, Laurel spent the whole morning sweating through one exercise after another. When Damon finally said she could stop, it sounded like music from heaven.

Shame, anger, fear.

None of it mattered anymore.

She only wanted to collapse on the floor and never move again.

Looking at Laurel sprawled there like a corpse, Damon let out a small laugh, got off the bed, and nudged her with his foot.

"Stop playing dead. Get up, shower, get dressed. We're leaving."

"Let me rest for a minute."

"People say the beginning is hard. Then the middle is hard. Then the ending is hard. Since all of it is hard, what are you resting for? Get up."

Damon had no intention of being tender. When Laurel refused to move, he simply switched the electricity back on.

Crackle.

Laurel yelped and scrambled up, darting into the bathroom as if a wind had picked her up and carried her away.

A little later, freshly showered and dressed, Laurel followed Damon out.

As they stepped into the hall, the door of the room beside theirs opened and a middle-aged man walked out. He looked at Laurel's shaky legs and flushed face, then at Damon, who looked relaxed and completely unchanged.

The man raised a thumb.

Respect.

Damon gave him a modest smile and a nod.

Not bad, not bad.

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