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[color=darkred][b]Location:[/b][/color] Harbor 
[color=darkred][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] Kilamanjaro
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Quiver had been used to working in cover, most of his life he was trained in secret, operating in the dark, an assassin of the Court of Owls. A recon mission was not unlike that, except now - as an interim member of the League - he wouldn’t be required to kill anyone.

Since leaving the team the first time, Will had grown considerably. Not just in taking on a real name, but discovering himself outside of violence. Since leaving his first real “friends” he had become much more of a willing participant in his own existence. He’d made non super friends in Star City, gotten a day job, and had even been dragged on a double date when Arsenal had him double with his girlfriends younger sister. 

But it wasn’t long before this new version of Will had started to miss his friends from the team. He felt he had more to offer them now, outside of a ball of angst and violence - he was someone who could communicate better, and he’d softened his stance on aggression.

Although if he was being honest, he wouldn’t mind throwing hands with Viktor.

But now here he was, back in the hero game with a bit more levity. And although he hadn’t introduced his identity to the others, he knew it likely that some of them would sense their old teammate beneath the new mask…

Or they could smell it on him with their animalistic instincts. 

But that wasn’t what Quiver was most worried about when he turned to the other boy he had been paired with. Not too long ago, Metamorph had undergone some kind of bestial change, a complete rage. Quiver had seen warriors in similar states of targeted aggression, but never to that extent. Since the bank heist situation Quiver hadn’t interacted much with the others, he hadn’t joined them back at home base just yet. But he knew from Ollie and Dinah that Metamorph had taken the change hard. 

Metamorph could be sensitive to that situation, and Quiver knew it was likely a sore subject. But now wasn’t the time to dwell.

Quiver had, in a past life, been a killing machine. But that’s not who he is. And not how he’d want to be judged. He’d thought the same of Metamorph.

“Meta - I lost track of Pei and Viktor, but the others are in a safe position. And I’d bet all of the 8 dollars in my savings account that purple flare of energy was our man Zatara.”

Quiver was looking through a pair of night vision goggles that were strung into his hood. GA had given him a sort of tech that would let him mark hostiles temporarily to help with positioning.

*SPING*

A bullet flashed not far from Quiver’s head, the spark of it temp blinding his goggles. He looked at Metamorph with wide eyes at the near hit, avoided by merely dumb luck.

“If anyone asks…tell Viktor I dodged that.”