Purgatory

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On a small island in the North China Sea, a shadow races through the trees. Bare hands swing from branches with incredible force, naked feet beat against the pine-covered ground. She stops at the top of a small cliff, blue grey eyes searching the seamless ocean. There. A little fishing boat, strayed from its usual pattern, has come near the island. She has been waiting for this for five years. She unwraps a fabric bundle, raising a sculpted bow into the air. Wind rustles her green hood, and she adjusts her telemetry. With a spark of flint, the arrow is alight. She let's out a breath, and the arrow is sailing through the chilled air. With an explosion the shakes the island, the arrow finds its mark in a pile of wood and chemicals on a beach at least two miles away. On the small vessel, shouts in Mandarin arise as they spot the flames, and they pull closer to short. The shadow sprints off the rock face and races to where the fishermen are coming ashore. She sinks into the sand, dirty golden hair hanging from her cowl. Lifting scarred hands she pushes the mantel back, exposing her face to the sun. With pleading eyes she looks up at them.
"My name is Olivia Queen." She says in Mandarin, her voice cracking. "Please, take me home."

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