Author's Note: This takes place prior to our meeting with Artemis in Season 1. This is essentially how she left the 'family business' behind.
Disclaimer: Nope, I own nothing.
challenge me
"You little brat!"
It's hard not to flinch. Every muscle in her body is tense, and she can feel the dryness of her mouth as she meets his intense stare. She won't flinch. She can't flinch. There are things in her life that she wants so badly. The only way she can attain these things is if she stands her ground. DO NOT FLINCH.
Tell him off.
"How dare you bring this garbage into my home! Can you really live with yourself, hurting me like this!"
And the shouting is painful. She swears she can see the pulsing vein near his temple. You could only see it when he got really angry. He was livid. The grip on her bow got tighter.
"It's not garbage, Dad," she answers calmly. It doesn't waver much to her surprise. It sounds strong and it gives her reason to press on because the life she was living wasn't the life she wanted to live anymore. She knew this at a young age, and now she was ready. Ready to end this lie she lived.
He's much stronger. Much more experienced. The list of reasons why what she was doing was dangerous, reckless, and stupid was piling. It didn't stop her though. She licked her lips, eyes continuing to stare him down because this was her night. She was going to get away, and she was going to do things her way. If her father taught her anything at all it was always to be persistent, and it was the only lesson she was grateful for.
"Artemis," he starts sternly, and she can already predict what he's going to do because his arms are shaking with rage.
So she watches as her collection of memorabilia is thrashed around. His arm pushes the action figures she's collected in a heaping mess on the floor. He steps on them without a second thought, and goes to work on crumpling the few Flash cards she has collected. The comics he really hates because he's read them at least once if not more. He knows how the story goes, the good guys always win. It's not surprising when his spit is smearing the cover of her once perfect condition of her Batman comic. His rushed movements are halted, and she's ready. Her fingers feel for the soft fletching poking out from her quiver, and her resolve is restored.
He turns to face her, and she already knows what's in his hands.
"This. THIS probably pisses me off the most you ungrateful…"
And he can't even find the words. His hand shoots up, and the poster unfurls itself in front of her.
All she can do is smile. Shooting him full of arrows could never give her the same level of satisfaction as the look on his face right in this glorious instant. Even if this was the end, it would be the best ending for her.
"Green Arrow," she says pointedly. She admits, saying it sounds so good sometimes. He's everything that her father is not. And it's so perfect and frightening at the same time.
The first time she ever saw the green clad archer was when her father had come home in a huff. He was complaining about some blond idiot making his work difficult that night, so she inquired. He flipped a picture at her, and it fell perfectly in her small hands. He stood so proudly, arrow notched and steady. It was like nothing she ever remembered seeing before. He actually looked like he was enjoying what he was doing. He was so sure of himself, and she wanted to know everything about him.
So she learned everything, though in the grand scheme of things it was probably nothing. The comics only speculated about who he could be, so she relied heavily on anything her father said. He would know.
Her father taught her how to use the bow shortly after. He taught her how to aim straight and ruthlessly. She just wishes she could forget. She wants to start all over for the right reason. The only reason anyone should ever hold an arrow pointed at another individual. And maybe she hasn't met Green Arrow face to face yet, but she knows he's doing it for the right reason.
The sound of tearing pulls her out of her thoughts. Her teeth are grinding, and she can hear the scrapping. That was her poster. Her favorite poster. And she's letting him know that without even saying a word. Her eyes are speaking volumes, and she hopes he can see it. Hopes he can see the desire of change burned permanently into her irises.
The floor is creaking under the weight of his heavy boot as he's stepping towards her. He's challenging her. Make your move little girl.
"Get out."
When did her voice get so loud? The walls of the small room seem to capture the noise, and it's magnified, and it's beautiful to her ears.
Fingers grasp the fletching, and a steel tipped arrow finds its way notched and ready. The light of the moon is shining on the shapely metal, and she's never felt more alive in her life. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins, and her skin is prickling with goose bumps anticipating his next move.
His brow is raised questioningly at her. It's almost like he's challenging her, but he never says it. She's happy though because she wasn't planning on shooting the arrow anyway. As much as she hated him in this moment, it wasn't what she wanted to do. She was better than this.
And he's laughing because he knows her arms aren't as tense as they should be for an archer ready to make a kill. It's ugly. The sound of it bouncing off of her walls and into her ears offends her like nothing else she can remember. She wants him out now.
"I don't care what you do with your life. But don't expect me to be there with you anymore."
The string loosens around her calloused fingers, and the bow is pointing to the ground again. She never removes the arrow from its notch. The words are her weapons now.
"And don't come back anymore. Mom doesn't want to see your stupid face anymore," she starts, her eyes find the wooden panel that makes up her floor, "not after what you've done to her…to this family…to me."
His laughter subsides, but the smirk still remains.
"Baby girl, you are so adorable when you pretend to be strong."
"I'm not your baby girl. I'm 14. Now. Get. Out."
The boards are creaking again, and she suddenly feels her stomach fall. She just wants to throw up now.
No. No. No. Strong. Just be strong. He can't do anything else to hur-
His finger jabs her collar bone, and she has to look up. He's so much taller. And she's terrified. The bile is already rising, but she's trying to keep it down.
"Fine, Artemis. It's all fine. If you want to be alone that's all fine. If you want to play the good guy…that's fine too."
Her eyes are wide, and she's reading his lips because she wants to make sure that everything he's saying is real.
He chuckles a bit as his hand rests on her shoulder, "It's all fine because you'll be back to your senses in no time."
She bows her head because now she can't stand even looking at him. Her eyes are shut tightly because she will fight all those words to her grave if she has too.
"There's not much you can do to fight it. It's in your blood. This is all you've known. And being a good guy is much harder than you can imagine. And it will be so much harder for you. They'll take one look at you and they'll know everything. They'll know your past, what you've done, who you've killed…and do you think you'll stick around for that? I know you Artemis. You're very weak. You've always been."
His finger is below her chin now, and he's forcing her to look up.
"You can't fight who you are," he says, face twisting sinisterly.
The air is still, and she can't hear a thing outside of her own heart beating wildly in her chest.
"I'm up for the challenge."
She must be as shocked as he is when she speaks. Her lungs are suddenly filling with air, and she feels like it's the first time. She bats his hand away defiantly, and the top of her bow is pointing at his collar bone now.
"So, if you wouldn't mind…get out."
And it's like the most normal conversation because he's turned on his heel and he's heading towards the door as if nothing happened.
"Your mother should be out in 3 months. Tell her I'll stop by."
"You better not."
And he's out of her life.
The thrill of it all is indescribable. Her lungs are burning, and her breath is hitching as she's bounding for another roof top. The bow is in her hands, and maybe she's not the best archer, but she's pretty damn good. She'll prove it.
The wind feels so good, and it's drying the sweat that's starting to gather above her lip. And she wants nothing more than this perfect feeling all the time.
She skids to a stop just above her own roof top. The moon is shining down on her, and she finally lets it all sink in. The symbol on her chest draws the most sincere smile. Her fingers are splayed over it because sometimes she forgets how right this is.
Artemis had the chance to experience both sides. It was a no brainer when it came to deciding. Being a bad guy is too easy for her. She'll always remain a good guy. Of course it's fucking hard. But she never said she didn't like the challenge.