I do not own these characters.
A dusty lamp bathed the hollow metal room in a cold yellow light. A masked woman lay on her cot gazing at the vacant ceiling while listening to the moaning steel walls and the humming of the light. The sound of water dripping from the leaky sink echoed through the empty space, gradually degrading her sanity. Shards of the broken mirror remained scattered across the floor. She didn't need to see that stranger behind the mask in her reflection.
Throughout the past five months she watched helplessly as she slowly became the person she always promised herself she would never be. In order to properly conceal her identity she had to lose herself, become the tigress. Though she knew that beforehand this was not what she signed up for. If she could go back and change everything she would do it in a heartbeat.
On the outside she was cold, cruel, remorseless; a killer. Tigress was vicious, she was fearless, and nothing could stop her. On the inside she was screaming. It was if the wicked fires of hell raged throughout her, scorching her heart and tormenting her soul. Somewhere, deep in the darkness there was the individual that used to be called Artemis hidden under the shadow of self-hatred and doubt.
With each passing day Artemis plunged deeper into the obscurity amidst Tigress' corruption. Slowly the predator inside tightened its menacing grip. Gradually overpowering the woman.
The golden charm that adorned her neck was her curse. It hid her from the world; a solitary few could see her 'true' face or whoever that stranger in the mirror was. She for sure didn't know anymore.
"Artemis." She would sometimes utter to herself under the cover of darkness. The name meant little to her anymore. It didn't match the face that she saw, not for months.
Her true colors faded with the burning of her heart. The woman no longer possessed any sense of who she was, or used to be. The lines blurred as the monster overcame her being.
She was her own enemy. The bloody struggle ripped her inside apart day after day, but on the outside she remained strong. If one were to take a glance at Tigress they would see a frightening assassin, not the tortured woman within. She was a woman of many masks; some physical, some magical and some that went so deep she even fooled herself sometimes. Not even her most trusted associate Kaldur knew of her inner agony.
Pathologically she wore a fearless expression. Her father trained her from birth not to show feeling, not to show pain. At this moment she was hurting so bad she resorted to the last survival tactic she knew. She wouldn't cry, she would never cry. Even under the cover of the night not one single tear dared to leak out of her stinging eyes. She took whatever blow, hit, kick and shot without complaint and then returned the favor if necessary.
Artemis was beaten, broken, and stripped of individuality. Her malicious impulses taunted her as the lessons of her father haunted her thoughts. She was not a killer, or it least she didn't want to be. Nevertheless, sometimes fate yields no choice. The lust was in her blood and the instinct in her DNA. No matter how much she denied it she would always be a Crock.
The fire that burned within her was not a blaze of determination or passion; it was a fire of guilt. The kind that consumed the wretched sinners that were damned to hell yet still cursed with a conscience. The vicious flames greedily licked at her iniquities and evils, scorching her interior.
Sometimes the pain would become unbearable, but she dealt with it like she always did. For there was no place in this world for a girl on fire.
Not here.
Not now.
Not ever…
Fin.
Please tell me what you think; this is the first one-shot I've had the courage to publish. I really want to get some feedback on this. Please?
