literature

Reentering the Past - 7, Hospitality

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Sara's lungs burned; the invisible accompanying dagger stabbed her side with each breath. Despite her overheated body, she shivered. Sharply spinning of her left leg, the good one, in an alley, she collapsed. Her stomach growled in its now routine twisting torment as burning in her lungs coupled with the electricity shooting up her left leg. The saddest part of the sudden police crackdown at Lucky Beggar's Corner was that she had not taken one bit of the Jiaozis she stole. Sara shut her eyes as the need to catch her breath dominated her fatigued body. The stabbing sensation faded to the background only to be replaced by her legs' protests over their recent activity. What would she give to stop out that constant implanted blade and shocks.

A male voice yelled "I think we lost them, Officer Huang!"

"Keep looking." A new male voice replied, far more aggressively. A chill rushed up her spine. Her shaking from fear joined the shivers plaguing her body.

Sara's heart raced. Did she have the strength to stand up right now? She forced her eyes open. No. Not quick enough to actually escape if they found her. Hell. Could she even run again? The stabbing sensation in her ribs tore deeper. She bit down on her lip to contain the cough threatening to reveal her location. These steps faded. The Starling City native inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain, then fought to force down the same cough. There had to be more coming. Twenty cops and only two made it this far. Right? Still, she needed for her lungs to stop burning.

How long she waited she could not said but the steps faded from her thoughts and the forest fire stopped raging her lungs. Eventuality she felt safe enough to pull herself up. Her eyes scanned her right side for a handle, a crate, any object really. The drifter braced herself when her right side was empty. Grasping the rusted handle to her left, she pulled herself, shifting all her weight from her hot leg to its unwounded counterpart. You have to do this. One more step is not going to kill you if two exploding ships hadn't. You'll hate it but you have to do it. Gingerly, she lowered her heel to the pavement. A mild electric shock flew up to her kneecap. She loosed her choking grasp on the deep crimson metal dumpster. The cough climbed up her throat. She stumbled back and she suffocated the dumpster handle as a chorus of coughs flew from her mouth. The stabbing and electricity struck simultaneously. Couldn't death take her now? She mentally pleaded as she untwisted her face.

Okay. Restart. Step one. Sara lifted up left foot. A jog of lightning leapt up her left leg as she lowered it a few feet in front of her. She leaned her hand against the cool stone wall before lifting her right leg and bracing. A current of electricity jetted up her calf to thigh. Now another.

With each step, the cycle continued. Eventuality, the drifter managed to march to another nearby alley before fatigue demanded she sit. God. Maybe she wanted death more than life. It mean freedom from this routine stabbing, hunger, and nightmares. She knew she should not wish for death but… was this suffering worth a few more weeks of life?

Another riff of coughs broke the still, coal-polluted air. The humming and beeping of cars echoed in the background, blocking out the riff. Her face twisted to a wince as that blade twisted with the sharpen breath. A group rushed past in the connecting alley. Instinctively, she lowered herself down out of view. There was nothing for her to be seen, particularity by "Defenders of Law".

Sara closed her eyes to sleep. She used too much energy today. Voices broke the developing darkness. "Have you seen a group run ahead?" Male. Dense Shanghai accent.

"No." Female. Unyielding and smooth. Fluent and mastered but not native to the city, at least.

A muted darkness reigned. Fear entered the male's voice. "Thank you for your time."

Silence replaced the voices. Sara's eye slipped further down. Great. Now, entering the land of explodes, Avo's experiments, and Shado's collapsed, limp body.

"Come out. More will be coming." It was the female voice. Softer but equally tenacious.

The Starling City native drifted further into sleep, unmoving. Perfect. More cops. No one would brother her. Dreaming didn't appeal to her either however fighting her body proved futile.

"I would strongly suggest you leave." The stranger reminded her, seemingly moving closer.

"Thank you for your concern." Sara replied, sarcastically as she forced her eyes open. Would not she just go away? No words or footsteps in the air. She forced down a cough scaling up her dry, sand paper throat. Her hood started to fall back. Blinding sunlight invaded her eyes. Frozen in fear, she lifted up her eyes; still she didn't look at the woman. Her stomach growled, twisting agonizingly more in a knot. Another annoying cough plunged down.

"Sssh." Two hands retreated from her peripheral vision. "I will not hurt you." Tenderness snuck into the neutral tone. That damn cough ascended her throat again. Parts of her trusted the tone but experience hardened her. The trusting Sara on the Gambit and island died.

Her eyes migrated upward. Only black hair flowing from under a bleached gray hood onto a matching jacket could be seen. The woman pulled down the hood. Without the shadows concealing them, dirt colored eyes and elegant features appeared creating a flat, unreadable expression.

The pre-island Sara would have been envious however now the neutral mask worried her and the beauty of the woman faded from her thoughts. She was dressed like a migrant worker with faded, worn clothing but… her accent... it was not from any region she heard before and it didn't sit right. It was better not to ask.

The unreadable mask softened, revealing suggestions of tenderness. Suddenly their eyes locked. From her last look in a mirror she knew her eyes had started digging trenches around themselves and her cheek bones stood out from her other feature. That had been enough for her to look away. God, that had been two weeks ago. Now in a way she was grateful for the dirt concealing further developments.

The drifter dropped her eyes, studying the details of the dirt filled moats in the cement. "How long have you been sick?" The stranger intrigued, burrowing through her pockets.

No response followed. To be honest, she didn't even know.

"Here." She continued, revealing a granola bar and half-drunk bottle of water. More tenderness presented itself subsequently "I'm Nyssa".

"Sara." The drifter took the handouts with as much as dignity as she could. Promptly, the water smoothed her sand paper throat. She drained more into the desert of her belly.

Eating slowly enough to conceal the true extent of her hungry would prove challenging but it could be done. "Alright, Sara. How are your ribs?" Nyssa asked gentility, almost like her mom used to, placed the back of her hand on her forehead as she spoke.

How did she know? "Been better." Sara convinced.

"Your leg?"

The Starling City native stiffened. She definitely was not a migrant worker. "Discomforting."

The woman nodded. "I can get you to a doctor." She stated. The Starling City native frozen. She didn't have any money and refused to pay with-

Nyssa continued. "It will cost you nothing. Nothing."

The drifter could not meet her gaze. These words sounded genuine but Avo sounded somewhat genuine at first. It would have been easier to just let death claim her or make a test subject. She felt the cough clawing up her throat. "Why did you care?" At least the water smoothed the sand paper. Besides, she didn't have the strength to fight if she had to.

Nyssa paused, hints of confusion poking out from under the mask. "I had no other motives than to aid you." She finally answered.

Sara swallowed down the water in brief gulps. For some reason unknown to her, she trusted her authenticity. She nodded in agreement as the cough escaped. The drifter attempted to limit the twisting of her face, not that it would mask any bit of the pain to the unreadable expression.

"Would you like me to help you up, Sara?" The woman asked.

"Yes." The Lance convinced. It would just be easier.

Nyssa nodded, stood up, and moved to her right side. Timidly contaminating the crisp but worn gray jacket as Sara rested her elbow behind the woman's neck. In turn, she locked her right arm around the drifter's waist. "3. 2. 1." She lifted up. The drifter felt the outline of a dagger against her leg. Nyssa sounded genuine. Besides, it was too late now.

The scene faded as Sara's eyes open. She lifted her head up from Nyssa's shoulder. Pulling her body up, she felt her lover loosen her embrace. So she was not asleep. The blanket hung off her frame as she checked the digital numbers on the burner phone. 11:00. She laid down again.

A hour and a half only. Her stomach remained tighten as if from hunger. Dammit. She was not that broken girl. She had proved herself. Hell, she even regularly landed strikes on the Heir to the Demon in sparing. She blamed the damp air and… possibly returning to her first home? Not the second reason. Time to return to work.

Sara titled her head down, closing her eyes once again. "It's 11. I will need to get up."

"Eventually." Her lover purred.

The Starling City native chuckled. Her body melting onto the cot with each passing minute. How they both of them managed to fit she didn't know, especially considering Nyssa could take up a bed by herself if given the chance and desire? Even with this cramped cot and location, she take this over the Saudi Arabia vacation of sorts with its pen house. She didn't know if recovering from being shot could count as a vacation. However, they made the best of the break. Still when the zeros became a 15, she dragged her from under the blanket and stood up.

The assassin felt her girlfriend's eyes settle on her back as she pull up her shirt. "Would you like me to turn around?" She teased.

"If it is pleasing to you," Nyssa flirted. "I would not complain."

Of course. There again, Sara didn't complain when she did so either. "…and you call me Dalal."

"You are no better than me." The Heir to the Demon chuckled. Her beloved could practicality hear the smile.

After pulling on her league uniform, Sara grabbed her Bo staff. Nyssa stand up, her hood in hand. "Be smart and return."

never say good bye before leaving for a mission. The cemetery is Nanda Parbat earned the title "Resting Place of Complacent, Age and Misfortunate". Nyssa's mom herself passed away due to misfortunate, apparently a job gone wrong. She didn't reveal more about that chapter.

"I will."

Her girlfriend nodded and pulled the hood down.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Haytam limped behind Sara as she leapt to the neighboring roof top, gravel soundlessly passing under her feet. Youth (and uninjured knees) out weighted experience here. Five more minutes and surveillance would take over. A glint of green caught the corner of her eyes. Ollie? "Sir?" Ta-er Al-safher asked in arabic.

"I saw it. We need to lose him." The medic confirmed.

The subordinate nodded. "Do you see that building?" Her eyes settled on the brick roof access shed resting among the gravel and cigarette buds littering the roof. Her superior nodded. Perfect. Now Oliver would connect the mysterious rescuer and the league, likely to the Traitor as well. This was going to be fun.

"We cannot risk a conflict with him directly." Haytam retreated by the shed, joining Sara. The sound of gavel shifting under someone's feet. "Use your sonar thingy." He commanded in a whisper.

The junior assassin contained a laugh. The man had used robots for surgery but called a simple sonar device a "thingy". Still, she nodded and check the Arrow's movements. Ten feet and closing. Ollie, forgive me. She covered her ear. Haytam copied. A high pitch screech shattered the air. The assassins' feet carried them down the fire escape and toward the shadows of the alley.

The green cloaked archer surveyed the alleyscape below, the bow armed with an arrow. Sara could not spare a backward glance. She need to work. The Arrow didn't follow.

Eventually, lights reading "Embassy Hotel" illumining the incoming skyline. Her mind returned to the time zone and blueprints. Central office at 1:00 am. Her eyes scanned field of dark cement.

Great. How much would Oliver be able to connect? What would he think of her? Sara, think of the traitor. The lesser he pays, the sooner she returns home. She repeated to herself. Her eyes settled on the back entrance after check her watch. Forty five minutes before the fool learned the serious of his mis-alliance.
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