That night, there was no one to watch her as she fell. No one knew that she was twisting and turning in her bed, caught up in a dream that wouldn't release her. It held on, wrapping its claws around her and rattling her until it got its message across, a message that she wouldn't forget. Not for a very long time.
Her breaths were ragged as she pulled the covers tighter around her, grinding her teeth together. It would have been an odd sight for anyone who didn't know Artemis. But The Girl With The Arrows was no newcomer to nightmares.
Watching her, it was almost pathetic and terrifying at the same time. She would twist and mutter something, then open her mouth as if to cry out, only to shut it again. In the dream, it was not at all pathetic and only terrifying.
She was running down a long, narrow hallway with emerald walls and cold tile floor. The hallway was endless, she already knew that, but she kept running anyway. From tiny cracks on either wall, little tendrils of sand poured into the hallway, blanketing the floor in maddening crystal bits that were already making it hard for her to keep her feet moving. It was as if she were caught in an hourglass that was counting down her death.
She drew an arrow from the quiver strapped to her back and attempted to plug up one of the holes, but it did no good. The hole simply opened its mouth wider, swallowing her arrow whole, and then, after a moment's pause, it continued to spill its guts of sand and shells.
The mixture was up to her knees now, making running impossible and walking difficult. She gasped for breath as one of her legs was pulled downwards and she lost her footing, tumbling headfirst into the sand. It filled her mouth and scratched her tongue, causing her to choke and gag, clawing at thin air in an attempt to right herself.
She drew another arrow, not really having any purpose to do so other than pure instinct. The arrow shot forward just as her arm was lost into the sea of sand, piercing itself into the green wall. It struck with a clang and stayed there, wobbling.
For a moment, everything completely froze. The sand stopped shifting around her and the holes immediately stopped pouring their contents into the hallway.
Then, as quickly as it all had stopped, the sand was no longer sand and the walls were no longer that bright and beautiful green. Instead, the walls became a bright and horrific red, and if Artemis hadn't of been desperately trying to breathe, she might have sworn that it seemed the walls were pulsing. As if they were the walls of a heart. A heart that was failing.
But she was distracted, as the sand around her was no longer coarse and scratchy, but instead was smooth as silk. In fact, it was no longer sand at all.
It was blood.
It ran, red and thick, over her hands and around her arms, soaking through her pants and shirt and mixing with the blonde of her hair. It ran like a river, like the wind, gushing from the gaping holes in the wall like looked like open wound. It ran across her face and covered her eyes so that all she could see was red, endless red.
In the distance, she heard an awful, shudder-inducing scream. It would take her until that afternoon to realize that it had been her own.
She awoke immediately, gasping and lunging forward, her fingers knotted into her sheets, her hair a tangled disaster. Her heart was beating like a racehorse, and for that reason, she hated herself. She cursed under her breath and threw the sheets back disgustedly.
"Jesus," she muttered, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and standing up. "I'm going to kill myself one of these days, with these dreams. I really am."
She stepped down, barefoot, to the cold blue linoleum floor and made her way to her joke of a bathroom, a shabby little thing with concrete walls and a partially cracked mirror. She turned on the faucet and lightly splashed her face with warm water. The face in the mirror was ghastly and hardly her own. Water dripped down her cheeks like tears, falling down from her angled, blue-grey eyes.
A shower. What she needed was a shower. It was early enough in the morning. Wiping her hands down her face and groaning, she began to pull off her shirt.
A cough coming from the hallway outside her room made her freeze. Her right hand shot instinctively for her arrows, although the quiver was, of course, not attached to her back. Then she relaxed as she heard the cough again.
Dad, she thought, letting out the breath she had been holding. Dad's just home early.
Except, Dad was never home early. Unless…
She stuck her head out the bathroom doorway and glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. In bright, red, mocking numbers it proudly declared 10:00 AM.
"Shit!" she squeaked, turning on her heel and diving back to her mirror, streaking a comb through her hair. Lovely. Just lovely. Now everyone at the Mount was going to be even more suspicious than usual.
Once her hair was somewhat presentable, she threw it into a rough ponytail while sticking her toothbrush into her mouth. On a normal day, the sight of her fast-moving hands and the ridiculous amounts of multi-tasking might have made her laugh. But, one: she was angry. Two: Dad was home. And three? Today was not a normal day. That had been easy enough to tell just from the dream she had had.
Racing out of the bathroom with the toothbrush still between her clamped teeth, she pulled on a pair of old jeans and a green cardigan inside her tiny closet. Running back out, she shoved her alarm clock aside with annoyance as it reminded her yet again that, oh boy, you're late, you're late for a very important date. Better get going, missy, you're late, you're late, you're late.
Tossing the toothbrush in the sink and not even bothering to take another look in the mirror, she grabbed her purse and ran out into the hallway. If she could make the next bus to Happy Harbor, she might be able to conjure some kind of reasonable excuse for being three hours late.
Instead, she practically skidded to a stop. Her toes dug into the green carpet and she fell silent, listening. She had heard her father's footsteps around the corner. And, God knows, the last thing she wanted to do right now was get into another debriefing with him. You need to do this, Artemis, careful not to do that, Artemis. Look me in the eyes, Artemis, stop being so weak and scared. You knew you had to do this, now do it, Artemis.
She frowned and pushed this thought aside. Rising up on her toes, she crept forward down the hallway, biting the inside of her lip. Dad would likely be in the work-out room at this time in the morning. Of course he would. Sportsmaster wasn't just a name for him—it was a lifestyle. So if she could run past the kitchen without making too much noise, she would be able—
"Artemis."
Out of pure instinct, she did not allow the shriek to pass out of her throat. Instead, she made a strange, choked gasp and whirled around.
Dad had never been all that hard to spot in a crowd. He was a large man, somewhere close to 6'5" (Artemis didn't know and didn't care), with a generally wide frame, broad shoulders, large, muscular arms. His eyes were small and a very light brown that wasn't the nice, milk-chocolate color Artemis wished they were. Instead, they were rather unnerving. Like, if they got any lighter or any more intense, they would simply turn red.
His hair was the exact shade of hers, a less saturated yellow the color of sun-lit wheat. It was cut short against his scalp, messy upon the top of his head. But it wasn't like that meant anything. Dad never combed his hair.
He was staring at Artemis with that expressionless, almost blank look that made his eyes look bigger than they were. In its odd way, it made him even more terrifying than he already was.
"D-Dad?" she asked, laughing nervously and standing up straight. "What's the matter?"
"Where are you in such a rush to?" His expression didn't change, but the tone of his voice said enough. He was reminding her yet again. Of her mission.
"I have to get to HQ. I'm late. Overslept," she told him, meeting his gaze with her own, hostile one. It was the largest amount of disrespect she dared give to her father at this point.
"Mm." He walked past her, heading towards the kitchen. She immediately followed behind, watching the back of his navy blue shirt. "What's going on today?"
"I'm not sure. But it's big. I'll be sure to tell you."
"That you will. I don't want another Bialya fiasco."
Of course. Bialya. She and her teammates had lost their memories and Artemis had made what her father considered an awful mistake. She had let a mind-reading teammate into her mind, hoping to place together what had happened to them.
"That green girl—" Dad continued.
"Miss Martian," Artemis cut in, not really knowing the reason why.
"I don't care what her name is." Lawrence Crock turned his head to look at his daughter. "She went into your head and for God knows what reason you let her. You almost put the whole operation in danger," he told her. And yet his voice still remained on the same timbre it had started with.
"I didn't have a choice. They needed my memories to piece—"
"Shut up, Artemis, and stop acting like one of them. You know there were other ways."
She fell silent, but kept her eyes defiantly set against his.
"Go," he told her, waving his hand dismissively. "But remember." He held up three of the fingers of his left hand. "Three days." His eyes flicked to the corner of the room, where a small piece of equipment had been laid carefully on the shelf. "Don't forget your bow."
She followed his gaze. "I won't."
"Good girl. Make your daddy proud," he told her, smiling in a way that wasn't at all comforting. Then he turned around and swept out of the room, leaving her standing there with clenched fists and even more unease.
That's what I've been trying to do since the day I met you, Artemis thought. She closed her eyes and exhaled, then turned around to look outside the window. Bright, clear day. And two hours late. Three, if she didn't get going.
Shaking her head, she grabbed the piece of equipment on the shelf and tucked it in her purse.
And so it begins.
Wally West looked up from the magazine he had been reading, as a sudden light filled the training room. The portal door flashed white light and announced "Artemis. B-23," as the shape of a young woman began to form and materialize, finally becoming the full-fledged figure of Artemis. She had one hand on her hip and was dressed in civilian clothes, her hair swept back into what Wally assumed passed for a ponytail. There were bags under her eyes and a cut along her left cheek that he hadn't seen last Friday. Meaning it was fresh, new, had happened this weekend.
"Oh, finally, here comes our Sleeping Beauty," he muttered loud enough for his teammates to hear, and stood up from where he had been sitting in a red armchair. "Decided to join us, huh?"
"Shut up, Wally," Artemis shot at him without even looking. She walked straight forward to where Batman and Red Tornado were standing, neither one of them looking pleased. Of course, the latter was an android and the former never looked pleased anyway.
"Where have you been?" Batman asked, his arms crossed and the white slits in his mask, where his eyes were, narrowed.
"There was a robbery on 32nd street and I was driving my mother to work. What was I supposed to do, sit there and watch it happen?" she replied smoothly. There had indeed been a robbery on 32nd street. Of course she had checked. But she had in no way helped catch the criminal who had done it.
"And you caught the criminal?" Megan asked, walking up to Artemis and smiling. "That's excellent work, Artemis."
"More like slow work," Wally interjected, snorting. "Who takes three hours to catch a common thief?"
"I told you I was driving my mother to work," Artemis said. "She works in Empire City, Wally, and in case you didn't know, that's an hour away from Happy Harbor. An hour driving, an hour catching the criminal, an hour driving back here. Go back to Kindergarten and maybe you'll know what I'm talking about." Artemis rolled her eyes, exasperated.
"It still doesn't excuse the fact that you gave us no notice," Batman told her, cutting Wally off before the speedster could even begin his reply. "And you are well-aware that today is vital."
"We were worried that something had happened to you. It is not unlikely that one of us could become caught in a trap," Kaldur told Artemis, standing a few feet away from Wally.
"I know. And I'm sorry. It was a rough morning." Artemis turned to Batman, meeting his gaze. "But we can stop wasting time if you would fill me in now."
Batman's eyes narrowed at the edge of disrespect to her tone, but he turned around and faced the large computer screen that took up the center of the room. A map of the world filled the screen and then zoomed forward at a dizzying speed, reaching its point of interest after a few seconds. A red dot flashed upon a small chunk of green, indicating a country by the name of Bhutran. It was located in Southern Asia, an inland country surrounded by mountains.
"This is Bhutran, located near the border of China and home to an ancient clash between government officials and ancient monasteries," Batman told the team, as they gathered more closely around the computer screen. The screen zoomed in further, displaying images of fields and one city, with large, sloping domes and buildings that looked almost comically like Ancient China. Except that it had been modernized, in a way, with lights lining each edge of each building, and even what the team supposed passed for a skyscraper in the left corner of the image.
"This is where you will be headed," Batman continued, "and where you will be staying for the next few days."
Artemis glanced away at this point, her eyes flicking to Batman. Days? she thought, trying to force down the sudden rise of panic she felt.
Three days, her father had told her. Three days.
Ropen opened his wrist computer and started copying images from the large screen to his own. "What exactly are we supposed to do there?" he asked.
"There's been an uprise in violence between the officials and monasteries within the past few weeks, and the League doesn't think it's a coincidence that, only two weeks ago, we discovered Kobra Venom in Santa Prisca," Batman explained.
"Kobra Venom, of course." Robin nodded, pulling up another image on his screen. This one displayed a small case of purple, bubbling liquid that reminded Artemis of grape soda. "The mixture of the Blockbuster formula and the Venom we found in Santa Prisca."
"The neo-steroid that enhanced strength?" Artemis asked, looking back up at the computer screen. As if she didn't already know. Her father had gotten his hands on a case of it and told her everything about it. It was like a high-priced gem, and equally as corrupting.
"It more than enhances strength. It enhances everything. Basically, it turns you into a Super or a Meta or whatever," Robin explained. "But it's only temporary. And it's extremely life-threatening and illegal pretty much everywhere."
Wally smirked. "Perfect. Sounds like something every villain from here to Krypton would love."
"It's the kind of drug that would be transported quickly and under very intense security," Batman resumed. He frowned. "And it would be well-hidden."
"What do you mean?" Superboy asked, finally deciding to join in the conversation. He had been sitting to the side with his hands in his jean pockets, watching Artemis uneasily. He didn't like the way she had told her alibi earlier. It sounded too much like the lies the people of Cadmus used to tell him, before he had escaped.
Batman drew up an image of a Bhutran monastery on the screen. "Meaning that if so-called 'monks' in Bhutran wanted their hands on the Kobra Venom, they would easily be able to conceal it as part of their 'religious practices'," The Dark Knight said. "For instance, using it in rituals and potions. Carefully, of course, so that it wouldn't be too conspicuous. But using it all the same. Bhutran's government is unstable enough, and if any official tried to change the religious ways of its people, the riots and protests would be catastrophic."
"Basically, the monks can get away with anything. Including creating super-powered weapons out of normal people," Artemis concluded, crossing her arms. "So you want us to go in and investigate."
"Yes," Batman replied, looking away from the screen and at her. "But in separate groups. There are different areas the League wants to check, and the Bhutranese don't view Americans kindly. Concealment will be everything. All radio communication will need to be through Miss Martian, as it was in Bialya."
Miss Martian nodded, and a strange noise like the buzzing of a bee passed through all of the team member's minds. It lasted for a total of three seconds, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"The network is up," she told Batman, having connected their thoughts.
"Good." He gave a stiff nod, then turned back to the screen and pulled up images of each of their faces. "The groups will be as follows: Aqualad and Superboy. Miss Martian and Robin. Artemis and Kid Flash."
Artemis stifled a groan. The absolute last thing she needed was Wally's antics slowing her down on this mission. She needed to move smoothly, work quickly, and most definitely not get side-tracked by a skinny red-head with an uncanny knack for bad pick-up lines and stupid charm.
"Well, look at us. Looks like it's Bialya all over again, Ninja girlfriend," Wally said slyly, sneaking beside Artemis and elbowing her in the ribs. She ignored him.
"Get suited up and meet here for further details," Batman instructed. "Bhutran's dangerous, and not just your typical dangerous. The League doesn't know nearly as much about the country as it would like. You're heading into enemy territory now. It's going to be a long week."
As the others walked away to get changed and packed, Artemis sighed. You're telling me, she thought, watching as Batman continued to assort images and information on the computer screen.
Three days.
It rang in her head like an alarm, along with the image of those walls from her dream. The walls that had pulsed like a heart, changing from green to red.
Three days.
With one last look, she turned away to go get ready.