Chapter Text
"It's different for everyone," she read, "Some people forget their voices first, or the deep or light shade of someone's eyes... The soft touch of a mother's hand or the way father's tell a story. But, no matter what happened after everything with Ivo, then Slade and then the League, she never forgot.
"But she's not quite there yet, she hasn't met any of the League Members. Right now, she's running. Oh god she's running... So hard that with each step she pushes her heels harder into the ground, making a deep impression of her shoes. So quick that the wind that flew by her felt like bullets whizzing by her ears.
"She is not only running to get away, but she is running because she is being hunted. It feels like time is catching up with her, that her breath is short and she'll collapse at any moment. And, she was right: Men were chasing her from behind, trying to kill her. She wasn't a fighter, at all! She couldn't run forever and they would eventually catch up... It was just a matter of time..."
***
She is running. Faster and faster. And she knew that they would catch up, it is just a matter of time. She made the quick decision to go back into the water to give her legs a break, they felt so weak and they were trembling with every step she sprinted. She would jump into the water, after she reached the other side of the Island. The hard and slow journey was made even harder but she needed it to be quicker. But the journey wasn't.
I have done horrible things, but do I deserve this punishment? she cried in her head. Yes, of course I do... I helped torture people!
For a while it wasn't that bad, after she got out of the water from slipping out from the frater, she heard the soldiers coming for her and adrenaline kicked in. But, now, after running for such a long time her adrenaline is slowing, starting to sneak out of her system. Her stomach was flipped upside down, her legs were lava and her breathing tight. While her head was pounding, she still heard the cries of the soldiers behind her. Or, at least she thought they were soldiers. She didn't know who they were, just figures running in the shadows.
They shot arrows at her, the same weapon of choice as Ollie, and (honestly) if freaked the hell out of her. Bows need more control, strength; patience, any idiot could hold a gun and an idiot was a lot easier to trick.
Her head might just explode if she ran one more step; she could die at any moment, just like Ollie, but she keep running, and wherever she ran, they followed her like she was in a sick sadistic game. They were shadows in the night, brief bodies she saw and feared.
"I can't," she gasped, "I can't anymore... I can't run..."
She heard the yells behind her - they were getting nearer and nearer and she forced her feet to move. It has to be the hardest thing she had ever done. Ever. She took a couple steps of rest and then she saw him in front of her.
A body strong and lean, full of muscle and eyes that held complex thoughts she couldn't understand. The dark figure was dressed in red and black. His arrows were strapped across his back, bow in hand raised and an arrow pointing right at her.
"Why are you running?" The voice was silky and smooth full of patience.
"Whoa," she panted and took a closer examination at what she thought was a 'he'.
The woman standing before the girl looked like a male killer but it was a female, which made her shiver more. Black boots, red tights and a cloak that clung to his - her - body. There was a hostler on her hip that was attached to her belt that held a sharpened knife. An easy hand that was wrapped in black fingerless gloves now relaxed the bow string and rested on the knife casually. Red sleeves disappeared through the arm trains and with the hood up, to cover her face making the most entrancing eyes pierce through the veil and look at her.
"You're a girl?" the victim asked wiping the sweat off her forehead. It was hard to picture a woman so muscular.
"Thank you for stating the obvious," the warrior's words were clipped with irration, that, or curiosity. "Why are you running?"
"Why are you chasing me?" the sweating girl asked, turning the blame back on the righteous woman before her.
"Because you were running," the woman before the girl stated simply.
She thought about that answer, and shouted exasperated, "That doesn't make any sense!"
"Well it makes perfect sense to me," the warrior says putting a hand on her hip. "You... You're all wet."
The girl lick her lips, her throat was so dry, it could have been transformed into sandpaper.
"Thank you for stating the obvious," the girl quoted the woman with a small twitch in the corner of my mouth. The girl didn't know why she was almost smiling. The figure before her had a knife in hand that says it was made out of steel to do murderous things.
"Were you on that ship?" the woman asked curiously glancing in the general direction of where she saw the frater crash.
"Umm..." The girl wondered if she should tell her. "If I say 'Yes' will you give me an easy death?"
"No," the woman said taking a second to blink and understand that even after the girl almost drowned, ran about ten - fifteen miles - give or take - she was still cracking jokes. "I'm not going to kill you at all."
The girl didn't believe the woman. If the warrior wasn't planning on killing her, she wouldn't be holding a knife.
"Were on the boat?" she asked again.
"Whose asking?" the girl finally got around to asking the woman's name in a loud tone. She would like to know the name of her killer when she went to hell. She wouldn't be going to heaven - not after helping Ivo with his human experiences.
The warrior pulled the veil away and pushed down her hood, revealing soft and seductive eyes that were full of broken pieces and deception. At first glance, they were hard and unreadable, but the longer you stared, the more colors and things you could notice about the woman's eyes. The woman had been slightly kissed by the sun, and her hair was drenched in the blackness of night. Her lips were pressed into a thin line from thinking hard and had a clenched jaw that completed her oval face.
"I am Nyssa, daughter of Ra's al Ghul; Heir to the Demon," the woman casually told the girl her proud title.
Nyssa - what kind of name is 'Nyssa'? The name of a warrior goddess? The girl thought.
Nyssa walked up to the girl and raised her eyebrow. Nyssa was obviously wondering what the girl's name was, that was clear, but the title 'Sara, daughter of Starling City's Detective Lance; jobless' seemed a little unworthy.
Sara tried to put her name as scientific as she could. "Sara, daughter of Quentin Lance, College Major in the intellectual and practical activity, encompassing the systematic study of the structure and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation and experiment."
***
"You said all that?" Oliver looked over at Sara, "That's a mouthful."
"Shut it, Ollie," Sara laughed and turned the page thankful she wrote it all down.
***
"You're a scientist?" Nyssa asked Sara understanding every word Sara had just said. Probably from all the books and education she has received over the years.
"More or less," Sara rolled her eyes and swallowed. She put a hand on her hip to keep her from hunching over. "Ow!" she yelled pulling her hand away from her stomach to stop the pain. "It's... I'm...."
Rust and salty smells burned into her nose, and thick dripping blood painted her hand.
"You're injured," Nyssa stepped forward eyeing Sara's side deciding weather or not to help her.
Sara realized now that since the adrenaline was rushing out of her system, her vision was very blurry and she was starting to black out.
"I don't need to be told that," she whispered crashing onto the ground, the world dissapearing from her view.