Sara's stomach twisted as she released her held breath when the jet jerked to a stop, sledding onto the Starling City International Airport's runway. Having completed the last job in a series that would effectively shut down a drug smuggling network in Houston, she could not have been more eager to return home, when she had this hit added to her query. The job was not urgent or difficult in itself. Eliminate a lowly dishonorable detective - a Starling City Police Detective, none the less. Apparently being the only unassigned operative available meant she, a league member who avoided Starling City with an unrivaled passionate, was drafted into kill one of her father co-workers - albeit not a close or even friendly one.
Detective Vang had thrived while investigation by internal affairs enough, her father would rant about the "Untouchable" Vang after a stressed out day. He had not even been punished once where his father get demoted for helping the vigilante. Her stomach squirmed further; hints of outrage surfaced but extinguished themselves as quickly as they came. Officially, Oliver was breaking the law; cops could not help "criminals". Her mind wandered the task ahead. An easy job meant free time. Free time mean time to reflect on the chance of a reunion.
Part of her debated asking her girlfriend to use her contacts so she would not need to relive... her experience from seven months ago. Even thinking of her pervious trip back caused anxiousness to embed itself in her thinking. However, she would be working and not focusing on her family. Besides, she was a league member first and Nyssa's lover second. She detested when the squad commander sometimes restricted her involvement purely based on her connection to the Heir to the Demon. Despite her relationship with Nyssa, she was a capable member of the league and needed to be treated as such… that said having someone that "close" to the Demon killed or critically wounded under your command may not be healthily for one's career... or... if the action could be directionally tied to you. Not her own.
Still for her situation, it was not all offensive. For some reason (probability her girlfriend), Sara only performed hits on varying degree of corrupted individuals, no matter how little. She loathed this special treatment less and... enjoyed it. Was it alright to be hypocritical with that? It was not never brought up mentioned, never in passing. She had only three of the innocent targets in her roughly five years with league. The last one was winter, three years ago. Her stomach lurched at her brief flash of the faces. If the odds were random, she should have more done more. Her stomach twisted again. They were often league targets but only a twentieth of the overall assignments. Five percent who did not deserve their sentences. Perfection could not be achieved, still... Gathering her breath and courage, she rose from her cramped coach seats to join the passing line. Possible housing replaced the reflection. Three days, back in nostalgia hell. They was going to be fun, she laughed to herself.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
After taking Detective Vang's laptop (as per her orders) and leaving his apartment's floor a sea of drawers, clothes, and papers, Ta-er Al-Safher settled into the deserted clock tower. She could see the headline already, "Police Detective Found Dead in Believed Break-in". In waiting for the mark to complete that extended last call, his bragging about the two swat teams waiting for the Hood tomorrow evening conquered her mind. He revealed every detail of the trap that hour long monologue. Apparently a local drug lord wanted an upload of the Hood. The claims make could have utterly baseless. Still, the detail and feasibility of the plan discredited that notion.
God, Sara thought, she loved being stuck between her friend and the League. Ollie just get extremely lucky or there were such thing as fate. Other thoughts crept in. Why was Laurel so blinded? Why was she doing this? No. Sara could not ask. Oliver serviced the city... using controversial techniques to most but he appeared to have stopped killing, the most debatable element to uninitiated. Acceptance should have be earned easily. Now, how to help Ollie without him finding out.
Over a sleepless hours and countless miles worth of pacing, a crude plan polished itself in two separate marvels of improvisation. In one Sara would need to notify Oliver and reveal the trap... and the fact she survived the sea trying to kill her again. Explaining how she got word of it would be interesting as well but nearly as much. The other would be simple intervening, distracting, and hoping. Another dilemma debated itself in the mental melee and polarized the plans. The League. Nyssa always preferred to ask for forgiven after acting but Sara's positions in the league was not as protected... and respected. Beside if she did not inform Ra's of the trap and her plans, she may need to interaction with him after. He would understand and drop the matter, knowing him it figured out the Hood's identity, but... a chill rushed up her spine. Five years in the house could not cure of all the fear he inspired; her girlfriend insisted he was not as intimidating as he was. She knew him as a complex man and devoted yet intense father. She agreed with that description but... another chill surged up her spine. Nyssa could inform Ra's for her.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Well, at least in terms of view, the set up for her plan could not have better. Ta-er Al-Safher laughed mentally. Ollie may not know of the league, and if he did, how much had the traitor sullied the league's reputation and their. Still, he would understand better than her own family and probability leave her alone and keep his distance. He could seek out the league, a border-line suicide mission even if the Demon favored you and suicidal one if not. Sara contained a laugh, the mental image of Nyssa, her girlfriend, and Oliver, her ex-fling, meeting. That could simultaneously the most entertaining and awkward event, she could ever have the pleasure of seeing.
Sara, back the mission. She silenced the torrent of thoughts. The glass sky light she knelt on, provided a view point to the suspenseful but silent movie below; still the automatic machine guns and red laser trained the green leather on Ollie's chest didn't require speech to understand. Sara lifted the circular glass cutter as the Arrow lowered his bow. Forgive me, Laurel. I can't let you do this. She stepped off the sky light as a hand sized silver dish descended toward the floor, the cry's edges dulling. Its screech piercing the air and rupturing ear drums before cracks in the splintering glass exploded in glazing shreds. The SWAT bowed and covered their ears. Their laser no longer fatally pointed at her friend and vigilante only threatening the carpet.
Shado's hood freeze for a moment and then flee out of view. Once her friend was out of range, she pushed down on the trigger in resting in her hands. A shock wave blow through the office as the device exploded in a brief blinding flash. No one would be hurt. The distraction only contained enough explosions to destroy the device. Sara sprinted the other end of the roof, leaping onto the fire exit of a nearby building; she climbed to rooftop and disappeared in the shadows.
By the time the assassin arrived the overlook above her sister's apartment, Sara was smiling. She sat down and settled her eyes on the portal into Laurel's home. She stayed there until 2 when Laurel returned and grabbed a bottle of wine. She launched her coat onto the floor and crumbled on the couch. Her keys flew into the basket, propelled by a furious launch. Just be able to return to work tomorrow, sis. The lawyer collapsed on the couch, her expression soften from rage to grief. At least, the assassin thought it had. Her distance didn't the decoding either. Sara's soul longed to comfort her but there would be too many questions. Weights forced her eyes down with closer may only worsen the situation.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Sara's mom smiled. Glee and shock dancing on her upward curving mouth. "You're alive." She exclaimed, embracing her lost dead daughters in the sealed wrap of her arm. "I always known you were alive. Where have you been? What are you wearing? Why is he calling you Ta-er Al-Safher?"
What was going on? The assassin survey the shadow filled room, there was no man, then downward; her eyes freezing in terror. She was wearing the her league uniform - in front of her mother "Mom, it is complicated" was all that escaped in a baffled, petrified whisper as question swirled around in her head.
"Tell me, please." Dinah pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.
"Mom..." She answered, no other words escaping.
Her dad's voice broke the silence. "Dinah, get away from them." He shouted. Them? She was alone. Right?
"Why? This is..." Her mother panicked.
"She killed two men!" The cop announced.
Had she? Where was she? flown through her mind. She looked at her hands. Bathing her hands was a crimson, iron scented liquid. No. She didn't use a blade... but she was trained in every weapon. She could have gotten one and left it... she could have been saving a life.
The professor stared blankly at her ex-husband and then daughter. "Is this true?" She asked, too close to pleading for her daughter's taste.
"I don't know." The assassin felt her voice shake. Still, her mom's arms wrapped around her, tightening.
Lance's gun lowered. "Sara." He uttered; his face devastated, shock and fear carving themselves on his face.
"I know, dad. I wouldn't hurt you." His daughter begged. "Just put the gun down."
Officer Lance raised his gun. "I'm sorry, baby girl." He tinted his head toward his police radio. "Charlie Br-"
"Forgive me, mom." Sara stepped out of her mom's hug and disarmed her father but she could not incapacitate him. She just could not will her body to perform mastered moves. "I'm sorry, Dad." She throw the gun on the ground before an red fletch arrow pierced her father's knee. He collapsed to the ground, hugging his bleeding leg. Dinah watched, frozen. "Nyssa!" She yelled.
The Salmon archer leapt from the shadows and grabbed her arm. "Habibati, we need leave. It is not safe here." The Heir to the Demon stated. She pulled her lover into a new lit pathway as the scene darken.
Sara's eyes burst open; her breaths coming in gasps. Adrenal pulsed though her body. Thank god. That was just a dream. She shook, studying her dry, unscented hands. The golden sunrise cast through rays clouded glass of the clock tower. Despite the nightmare, she wanted to lay her head on her pillow to pay more of her sleep debt from her last two nights. Laurel had finally collapsed at 3 and half-a-hour later, she was enjoying her few hours of sleep before sunrise and the flight.
Two cups of coffee and forty-five minutes later, Sara's knees rested two feet in front of that stone monument dedicated to her friend's death. Tommy was a decent man; he didn't deserved Merlyn, the traitor, as a father. Shadows from her baseball cap concealed a tear sliding down her cheek. Wiping it away, she placed an unlit tea candle on the base of the stone memorial. By itself a muted arabic prayer flowed from her lips as the wick became consumed by flame. The assassin in her could not believe in a deity that permitted the unpunished evils that thrived in this world. Still the prayer to the imagined forces continued. Distance footsteps broke her meditation. Standing up, she placed a single tea rose on the granite stone.
The steps stopped thirty feet away. "Hello, Felicity." Ollie's voice dominated the air, blocking another car alarm or stray breeze. "I'll be at work in a moment." Sara bent her head down, pulling on her backpack. Her feet marched and settled toward the nearby aged, crumbling monument, just close enough to watch but far enough to flee and make it awkward for him to approach her causally. "Were you able to download the files?" More silence and no movement. Don't see me, Sara silently pleaded. "I'll contact Detective Lance. I'll see you then."
The assassin's eyes migrated unfocused from the tended grass and engraved stone in forward of her. Good thing, she left her carry-on at the clock tower. Half watching as Oliver focusing on the inanimate object, the candle exiting his stare, and half paying attention her watch. Two more hours until she would need to arrive at the airport. An sorrowful expression sank further on his face. Sara took a breath. She loved Nyssa but given the opinion part of her would have preferred to remain the boyfriend-stealing-college-student she had been or, at least, mature slower than she had. However, life spiced itself - with any input from her. Oliver suffered longer on that hell than she had but the league had refashioned her equally.
Sara rose. Her mind and her body acted as separate entity; her feet striding to the gate while she catch a prolonged, thoughtful look back. The entryway clanged behind her. Oliver didn't even look up from the inanimate stone.
