So, quick author's note before this starts. I don't usually write these notes, but I also don't usually write multichap fics. I plan to follow the Team, both Light and Justice League, through season one, as they recover and learn about themselves. I can't ensure regular updates, but I promise that by next month, I will post the next chapter. I know most of where I want this fic to go, so there will definitely be an ending, however I cannot ensure that there will be a timely ending. (for anyone who read this last summer I am sorry, I am a HUGE FREAKIN' LIAR, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm trying ;-;)
Warnings: abuse, language, and canon-typical violence
...
The arrow struck its target, clean and efficient. Thirty-four down, one to go. A cackle floated down the halls. And just like that, there was no target.
Renegade dropped down, from somewhere unknown, into the group- a unit that moved in shadow. Starting off toward the bioship, the some of the team's spirits lightened, their success evident. Tigress bumped shoulders with Renegade and Sting Ray. The sharp relief of their narrow win was dulled by the impending punishment they knew to expect when they got back. Though wordless, the exchange soothed her somewhat. She knew she could trust these two.
Once in the bioship, Mindwipe settled down to meditate, floating above the ground. Her red hair floated behind her, as though some invisible current had blown it back. Mindwipe. Artemis mused silently at the irony of that name. The Martian probably wouldn't have gone rogue- if not for the psychic blast delivered by Psimon to her psyche, in effect obliterating her mind and rewriting any sense of right and wrong the girl had. As refreshing as it was to have a female teammate... She did not finish that thought, choosing to banish it from her mind. One could never be too careful around psychics.
Speaking (or was it thinking?) of the Light's meticulous and twisted methods of manipulation, she still couldn't help but linger on Redshield's performance today. He had been part of their near loss today- questioning orders to take out Selena Gonzalez, AKA Tatsu Yamashiro, or as she was better known in the League of Shadows, Katana. Artemis crossed her arms. He had no clear sense of right or wrong, but she could tell he was beginning to question the policies the Light had. Stubborn Kryptonian moral ethics, she guessed. That would need to change.
They'd learn in time.
Or they'd escape.
Either way, the original three were doomed, she concluded, removing knifepoint from the bloody scratches on her calf. She'd better bandage it up now or it'd be useless to her later.
...
Renegade paused momentarily outside the door to his and Deathstroke's shared quarters. His hesitation was almost a plea for help. Kaldur and Artemis stopped, turning their heads. He felt the pull of their gazes at his back. After a breath, he turned the handle and entered.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Stepping forward silently, the assassin allowed himself a single calming breath. Metal glinted in the darkness, which he approached, knowing it to be a chair. Upon reaching the hulk of titanium and leather, Renegade sank into a kneeling position, one knee touching the ground, while the other remained up. As he knelt, he bowed his head. One hand braced himself on the ground, the other resting on his knee. Once this submissive position had been attained, he greeted the other man who sat in the chair.
"Master."
"Apprentice," Deathstroke greeted coolly.
Renegade was silent. Any word he said, any move he made, any thought he thought could and would be used against him.
"I see you have not learned your lesson from past encounters with the Shadows. We only wanted Katana dead. You were sloppy. Instead you had to destroy the entire base."
Renegade opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a wave of his Master's hand.
"Do you realize what you have, in effect, done? You have tarnished The Light's reputation, likening us to barbaric terrorists!" Deathstroke's voice grew louder, harshening. The boy bit back a retort. Renegade bowed his head in shame.
"You were lucky," Deathstroke's voice lowered to a purr. Renegade tensed.
"We had another contract on hand. They wanted the entire base killed. We accepted, just in time. But Katana got away."
Renegade shrank into the shadow of the chair.
...
Sportsmaster leaned against the wall adjacent to the window. Tossing a golf bomb up and down with one hand, he greeted Tigress.
"Well, if it isn't the little tiger, finally back from the latest screwup."
Artemis kept cool, choosing to open her locker to stow her armor. This was her room, her territory. She kept the control here, she reminded herself.
"Cat got your tongue, Baby Girl? Or maybe it was your little boyfriend? You seemed awfully distracted..."
Gritting her teeth, she began the process of removing the straps and buckles of her suit.
"Or maybe you couldn't handle the beating I gave you last night? I told you to respect me. And you will, unless you want a repeat. So listen to me, Baby Girl."
The assassin ripped off her mask, sending her ebony locks askew.
"What do you want? The mission succeeded. The contract pulled through," Artemis snarled.
"The mission was to eliminate Katana. The contract was just barely fulfilled. It was too close- too close for The Light's tastes. You failed."
"I completed my part of the mission. I salvaged the rest of the mission. I did not fail," and each word was punctuated by her pointing finger.
"Oh? Then who did? Tell me, why did your team fail then? Was it your boyfriend? Do I need a talk with Black Manta?"
Her heart stuttered, cold within her chest.
"Or maybe it was a different attachment. I saw you look at that girl, Artemis. I know you didn't kill her. And if I went back, I bet I could find her again, just to show you what happens to little girls who don't listen."
The pounding picked up again, more fervently before. She needed to divert him, she had to move the focus. She needed someone who was close enough he could be reasonably distracted by, but far enough that no lasting damage would be done.
"What, like you did with Jade? 'Cuz that worked so well."
"Don't talk to me about Cheshire." spat Lawrence angrily.
"What? Ashamed to face the truth? That you can't control your own daughters? That no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to use us as easily as you did Mom?" Artemis snapped, brutal in word. She flung her mask to the side, determined to face him as his daughter, emboldened by mention of her sister.
Sportsmaster yanked her chin toward him, but more importantly to twist her neck in an awful way she was going to feel later.
"Don't talk to me that way. After all I've done for you, this is how you repay me? You are an ungrateful brat, Baby Girl. And if you want to keep your spot on this pathetic team, you'll do exactly what I say. You think you're so strong, but we both know who holds the power right now. Don't we, Baby Girl?"
Her jaw snapped shut, sealing her lips from further backtalk. But in her head...
"I was never your 'Baby Girl''. And I never will be."
...
Sting Ray stepped cautiously into his living quarters. Having already seen the illumination within, he knew what to expect. He knew he was treading dangerous waters.
"Kaldur'ahm," greeted Black Manta, who removed his mask.
Sting Ray did the same, letting out a breath. The man behind the mask was often easier to deal with than Black Manta.
"Father."
"We must discuss the failure of your mission."
Calvin Durham sighed, surveying his downcast son.
"You are a perfect soldier, one fit to lead. And yet... You performed inadequately, thus causing your team unsatisfactory behavior. How do you expect to maintain a position of power within the light if you continue this way? I am disappointed in you. This means punishment, Kaldur'ahm," he declared, preparing for the hard part, "You will go to Psimon's chamber at once."
Kaldur'ahm's shoulders gave the slightest sag, but he made no argument. He breathed, let the boiling frustration simmer down. Like water to magma, he let his anger cool and sink, volcanic rock thudding at the bottom of a stone-heavy heart.
"Yes, sir."
Ever the perfect soldier.
...
Artemis skulked her way out of the room, arms crossed and glare evident on her face. Kaldur waited patiently, standing to the side of the hallway. Approaching him, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, taking a moment to breathe deeply.
"Psimon?"
The Atlantean nodded. She flashed a tight-lipped smile, returning her gaze to pulverize the metallic flooring beneath their feet. Kaldur shifted towards her.
I'm sorry.
Sighing again, she moved her gaze upward, toward Deathstroke's door, which had remained closed throughout the almost silent conversation.
At least it's not as bad as...
Kaldur looked at the same spot.
Renegade, He finished the message on his own.
A heavy thud reverberated in the hallway, and the two teens winced.
...
"You have failed me, apprentice!"
Renegade struggled to stand after his collision with the wall. He looked longingly at his padded suit, where it lay in a heap in the corner. Master had asked him to remove it, leaving him in his underwear and a thin shirt. By asked he meant forced; there was little difference anymore.
This did little to hide the plethora of bruises that splotched his pale skin all over. Neither did it hide the red trails left behind by blood.
"I know, Master, I'm-"
"Don't talk back to me, Renegade!"
His mask stayed, though, keeping him forever Renegade, the cold and ruthless assassin who sometimes had the misfortune to be working on a team. While he was distracted by his own bitter musings (and blood loss? He felt kinda woozy…) Deathstroke backhanded him again, and he stumbled, falling again. The same way he'd been falling for five years.
"Apprentice, stand."
Renegade complied, despite his battered body. Well. As close as he could, anyway. He thought maybe his ankle may have been sprained.
"Yes, Master."
"Face me," Deathstroke ordered.
"Do you know why I am doing this, Renegade?"
"No, sir."
"This is for you. It always has been. With my training you have grown to be a fine assassin, boy. But unless you follow my every order, you will not succeed. You will fall and I will not help you. For then you will be unworthy."
The orange and black clad boy was silent.
"Come here."
"Sir?"
Deathstroke removed his mask. Slade Wilson grabbed the boy by the hair, forcing his head back. Renegade stood still, but tension in his muscles remained. A piercing feeling in the side of his neck stole the remaining reason he'd had in him, and left him feeling woozy and blank. Slade smirked. When had his Master pulled back? He couldn't seem to remember. The thought drifted away, however, as a haze descended. It didn't matter. Nothing did.
...
Renegade left the room, a tremble in his steps. His teammates all raised their heads, stepping towards him with caution.
"What." he growled.
"Psimon," uttered Artemis, ignoring his belligerence. Renegade was known for his post-mentor moods.
Conner's eyes went wide- "M'gann is already there."
Kaldur's mouth set into a grim line.
"We must attend to our punishments."
...
Mindwipe shuddered. It always started out happy. It started out happy, and then the perfect little world of peace and quiet was shattered, never to be experienced again...
Or at least until she messed up again.
This knowledge of the inevitable, dream crushing moment that she'd lose everything was scary enough in real life.
At least she'd forget it, going in.
M'gann M'orrz wakes up when a voice rings in her head.
'M'gann, it is time to wake.'
Excited, she floats out of her room, in only her "pajamas."
"Uncle J'onn!" she exclaims gleefully, though there is no real need for them to- he can hear her thoughts, anyway.
"Come, M'gann. The team is waiting. We must go quickly, they need our help."
"The team?" the peppy Martian pauses, then remembering (as the story took form in her brain), "Hello, Megan! The team."
She flies quickly toward the living room, morphing into her super suit on the way. She barely hears the briefing, it's something boring and vague about Bialya, it's not that important (her brain doesn't think quickly enough to come up with fill-in details, but that's not the point of this hallucination anyway).
In other words- it's a simple mission, as usual. The team, new as they are, haven't been tasked with any challenging tasks yet. They're traveling to the specified coordinates to check out an energy disturbance when-
Her ship is screaming, spiraling in tight corkscrews downward. Just in time, she pulls up, only enough to slightly soften their landing. Zatanna screams, and she hears a faint echo: "Psimon says be not!" From that point on, she cannot feel the magician. M'gann can't even guess at her fate. It's like she ceased to exist, at least in her own mind.
"M'gann! It's Psimon!" warns Artemis. She's checking for a pulse, but Zatanna won't have one, her systems have already shut down, not recognizing there was a person they were meant to fuel.
Her resolve weakens for a moment, coping with the loss and storing it where she can't think about it, before she continues, trying harder than ever. It must end now. She needs to find him fast, before he-
"Psimon says... Hurt!"
It comes out of nowhere. It is too fast to stop, too fast even to see. She changes. One minute she is the happy-go-lucky Martian, the next she is a raging monster.
What once had been green has paled to a sickly white, which stretches over her new form uncomfortably. 'Her new form' is a long, thin creature. With slender curves replaced by jagged hinges, she tries to gasp as she realized what had happened.
'No! They- they can't see!'
Psimon's order has already taken control. A primal instinct has taken over.
She hurts.
She cannot see her teammates. She only senses their agony.
Kaldur's shoulder burns with a fire she does not know she has. He is slowly dying, she realizes, from the poison she has spit upon him.
Artemis shrieks as something long, slender, and incredibly sharp protrudes through her stomach. Probably a White Martian knee joint.
Wally is pinned against a wall, as a spike of pain pierces at his neck. A fingerclaw, she guesses, with horrified guilt.
Robert bears an incredible weight. He cannot breathe, nor can he move at all. Her foot may have been crushing him, she thinks.
Barbara screams- her mind is shattered, leaving only fragments of lucidity in the sensation of pain.
But the worst- the worst is Conner, who gapes at her with betrayal, she knows. He cannot move, she has paralyzed him, severing the connection between his mind and body, shutting off his physical control. She can hear his thoughts- why, why, why?
She knows he will never forgive her. {She knows she will never forgive herself.}
Psimon chuckles darkly behind her.
"Good girl."
And then...
The dream is gone, vanishing before she can even think to store it in her memory. The grief lingers, and she drowns in a pool of misery. No, the dream itself no longer matters, all she knows is the lingering emotion, which quickly becomes attached, associated to a different reason.
{She has failed The Light.}