Chapter 44.
Hong Kong.
Oliver had a knot in his stomach the moment he stepped off the plane.
He tried to conceal it, to feign confidence, the right amount of apprehension – this version of him, this boy who got shipwrecked in Hell, had only been to China for leisure. He came with his dad, partied, bought expensive toys, stayed in extravagant hotels. And that kid had survived Lian Yu, lost people, killed people. But this place managed to drag him down further.
An ARGUS agent drove them into the city, down a familiar road.
Oliver stared out the window, at familiar alley markets, storefronts, and slums. It was not the sparkling tourist-friendly part of the city, but the bustling heart of it, where the real people lived. The cracks beneath the polish. Oliver had navigated these streets for months, grown familiar with its people, its subculture. Living in Hong Kong was not all bad, all the time. Still, as well as he knew it, he would always hate this place.
The ARGUS agent, a nameless, stoic man, said, "Your handler will provide you with food and housing and show you how to navigate the city. His name is Maseo Yamashiro."
He already knew that. Waller had briefed them before they left the Chimaera. And she couldn't resist adding, "I think you two will get along. Maseo was stubborn, once."
Oliver clenched his jaw at the thought of her. It was hard not to bite back. Waller was pushing him, sending him out on missions for weeks, shipping him off wherever she wanted. But until now she had kept her promise to keep Sara out of it – this was her breaking it.
Sara was sitting beside him, gazing in wonder at a city the likes of which she had never seen.
Having her here was preferable to leaving her alone on the Chimaera with Waller, but Oliver ached to send her home. He had told her bits and pieces of what happened here, but the magnitude of it was alive in his memories. It was something you had to see, experience.
The car stopped on the curb, where the shops ended abruptly, and residences began to sprawl haphazardly in every direction. Maseo and Tatsu had been dragged from their home in Japan and dumped in a grungy one-story apartment complex. Oliver scanned the building as he got out of the car, his heart beating in his throat.
Sara put her hand on his arm, saying nothing, following his eyes.
The ARGUS agent stayed in the car.
And there he was.
Maseo Yamashiro came from the dark hallway of the complex, dressed somewhat casually, wearing an expression like stone. His face was scruffy, bits of hair loose from his tight ponytail. He was not happy to be in Hong Kong, just as much a slave to Waller as Oliver was. He owed her a debt, and this was her collecting.
"Come," Maseo said, beckoning them from twenty feet away. He stared stiffly, cautiously.
It must have been strange for him, seeing these two kids get dumped on his doorstep.
Sara hesitated, "You said he was one of the good guys…" she said. "But then…"
"Not this time," Oliver said softly, nudging her forward.
It was so hard to close the gap between them.
Maseo was different from the last time Oliver saw him. He was unburdened by the agony of his child dying in his arms. He was free of the poisonous influence of the League of Assassins. He was not Sarab. It was a relief, and a pain, to see him this way. Oliver was struck, again, by the desire to change things. Maseo could have a better future. His whole family could. Akio would have the chance to grow up.
That thought drove Oliver. The past didn't matter anymore. He was here now, stronger, smarter, and this time it was going to be different.
Maseo said, in a dry, dreary voice, "I am Maseo. Welcome to Hong Kong."
And the business began immediately.
"Leave your belongings by the door," Maseo said, with a glance at their bags. One each. He looked tired. "We have reconnaissance to do."
Oliver said, "On what?"
"Put your things by the door," Maseo repeated.
