Artemis
She had been in the cell for over a week. The dark little room with its dirt walls seemed to loom over her, leaching the last bit of warmth from her curled up figure. It was a living hell, but worse; at least hell was warm. The archer hadn't been able to feel her legs for some time, and she had stopped trying to keep the circulation going in her arms, it took to much energy. Only her stomach still seemed alert, twisting inside her demanding food that would never come. With her eyes scrunched closed (it was pitch black anyway) she went over what had put her in this hellhole.
"It's a simple recon mission, get in, take the pictures and report back here." Batman had given them the mission, more of a training exercise really; it had turned out to be anything but.
Not even M'gan had sensed that the league of Shadows was running the operation until it was too late. Artemis had been arguing telepathically with Wally when the screams started. The link had been broken, or more like ripped to shreds leaving her mind reeling in pain. The smoke bombs came next, not the kind Robin used for cover; ones that poisoned the air, even as it forced itself down her throat. Artemis had been stumbling toward Superboy when the needle was jammed into her arm. She went down instantly, paralyzed but fully aware of her teammates going down with needles sticking out of their arms. And the smoke thickened, making her eyes burn and her lungs scream for air. It wasn't the smoke or the drugs that knocked her out though, but a boot that had slammed into her face, probably giving her a concussion.
Her head throbbed even now, but it was probably more from the lack of sleep than anything else. It was the one thing she had control over, and she refused to give it up. The determination wasn't what kept her awake though, it was the fear of not waking up. So she stayed, lying on the unforgiving ground and pretended as she had when she was a kid and bad things happened (she had lots of practice). She imagined that the mission was a success and they were all back at the cave, eating dinner M'gan had made and Wally arguing with her. There was no cold, or cell, or hunger, and most of all; there was no fear.
Wally
The first thing he felt was a cold metal slab beneath him. Slowly regaining consciousness he found himself in the bio ship, separated from the rest of the team by a thing filmy veil. Miss Martian must have sensed he was awake because Kaldur walked in a moment later. The look in his eyes said it all.
"Who-"he hesitated but knew he needed to know. "Who did we leave behind?" The Atlatian didn't even have to say it out loud, he already knew. Everything became blurred as his mind narrowed down to one thought, she was gone, and he would find her.
The thought was circulating in his mind as he leapt off the table and sped past his teammates. Bursting through the outer layer of the bio ship he hit the ground running. He would go back for the one left behind, but not just anyone, Artemis.
Artemis
No one had entered the room. There had been no interrogation, no threats, not even a gloating face to direct all her anger at. It wasn't the usual MO of most criminals. Which lead her to the conclusion that this wasn't about gaining info, it was some higher agenda, and she was the lowly bait that would set it all in motion. And that pissed her off. Who the hell were they to just assume that she was going to be some lame ass pawn in their grand scheme for world domination or whatever? She would get out and kick the freaking crap out of them, and be waiting when the rest of the league finally showed up. The thought of Wally's shocked face when he figured out it was her that had saved the day would be priceless.
She rolled onto her stomach and the pushed herself up onto her knees. Taking a deep breath she leaped up. Then fell right back down screaming explicates. The bastards had broken her goddamn ankle. And it hurt like a bitch. Gingerly lifting her leg up to examine she saw her boot was soaked with blood, and a faint sloshing sound came from inside when she set her foot back down. Her boot was probably the only thing keeping her bones within her skin. Pulling off her left boot she pressed the heel and grabbed the knife that slid out. Cutting off her mask (they already knew who she was or they would have bothered to take it off) she twisted a section and put it in between her teeth. A deep breath wasn't going to help now, so she sliced into her right boot with no hesitation. The knife was sharp and cut through the material easily, revealing the source of her problem. To say her ankle was broken would be an understatement. It didn't even look like a body part. The bits of skin that remained were purpling and covered in dried blood, making it look almost like black scales. But what drew her attention were her bones. Even with all the blood they were white, broken and poking through her leg, but white. Switching into assassin mode she assessed the damage before continuing to cut. This is where it began to hurt. But the assassin took it as a good sign; it meant the nerves were still intact, that her foot still had a chance of being repaired and useful. Removing the remains of her boot she used the knife to split the shoelace open, and grabbed the needle (it was meant to be used to pick locks). Holding it in one had she reached back and ripped several strands of hair from her head. It took her a few tries but she managed to thread it through the handle of the needle and balanced it on her knee. Squinting in the weak light she brought her head as close as she could to her injured ankle, trying to recall the diagrams of the human skeletal structure. Grinding her teeth into the cloth in her mouth she used to fingers to push the first shard back in. There wasn't any pain. Just a flash of light and then she blacked out.