A/N
Aaaaaaand heres chapter 2! Hope you enjoy! (It's all about Artemis)!
Also, I'm not entirely sure what those 4 guest reviews were about. If you wrote them, please PM me or something! (I am literally so confused right now).
Summary: In a different world, where sidekicks don't exist and superheroes are urban legends, they lead very different lives.
Song(s):
Once Upon a December
Disclaimer: No, I don't own these rights. I borrow them and create my own...
Chapter 2
A Wish for Ziplines and Escape
She leaped over a roof top, silent as the night in which she prowled. A black bow was clutched in her scarred hand, though that little fact was hidden by the full body black spandex she was adorned in. A grey mask hid her face, painted in tiger stripes that connected her to her beloved mother (she was off somewhere nice, Artemis had made sure she was safe-far away from the nightmare that was Gotham. A nice city called Central City; oddly, her initial image from the word was a red haired boy she'd seen there...)
She tucks into a roll, wincing as her twisted ankle screamed at her angrily. She does her best to fluidly get to her feet, but winces nonetheless. Da-Sportsmaster has been getting more and more aggressive nowadays. She fingers her short, choppy hair sadly-it used to be her pride and joy (a connection to a long-lost sister). He'd gotten mad at her the other day (because no matter what he did to her, she refused to kill for money), and had chopped her waist-long hair off in his rage (and now she looks the part of his daughter).
Shaking her head (because it was bad to get nogalistic about such things) she sprints again, shooting a zipline across the tall building. She swings across, stumbling a landing. She tenses, glancing around her in worry and breathing a sigh of relief. That's right, he was in the warehouse below. She peaks over the side, tensing at the absolute silence. Gotham was never silent.
She jumps over the edge anyway, a zipline arrow automatically being shot from the bow in her hand. Almost as quiet as a cat (because Jade held that title), Tigress slipped through the propped open skylight, landing on the floor with a light thud.
Immediantly, she back-handsprings away from the javelin that imbeds itself in the floor, cracking the concrete. With narrowed eyes, swords appear in her hands, almost like magic.
Sportsmaster chuckles, face shadowed as he steps out from the darkness in which he hid. "Well, baby girl, I suppose you aren't completely helpless."
She growls, lunging forward. He sidesteps, and suddenly shes in a lot of pain, clutching her antagonized side. The stitches split and shes bleeding all over again (just like last night). With gritted teeth, she stumbles to her feet, reaching for a bag hidden in a pouch.
He raises an eyebrow and takes it from her, pulling it open. His face changes from malicious to pleased within a second, eyeing the content. "Very good. I suppose you can go. Meet me here tomorrow, and bring this."
It takes all Artemis has not to cry from frustration (and maybe a tad bit of pain), but she grabs the sealed envelope and tucks it into another concealed pocket, ignoring the guilt that's tearing at her.
He disappears into the shadows and shes left alone again, clutching her bleeding wound. With a grimace she shoots another arrow, swinging to the rooftop with a gasp. She manages to stumble home, sliding open her cracked window and silently collapsing on the floor. Her hands claw at the floor as she slides over to a bow case, flipping it open. Her quiver is slid off and her bow and swords join them moments latter.
She pulls out a dirty polishing cloth, pulling the weapons to her one by one to scrub them of dried blood and grime. Weapons, after all, were the key to her survival. She sits there for what feels like hours, painstakingly scrubbing her tools until they glimmer. Finally her shaking hands pack away the last of her weapons, and she lays down on the floor, slipping off her mask.
It takes a lot of willpower, but she finally gets back to her feet and rummages around in one of the molded drawers. She finally feels the sticky red box and yanks it out, hands trembling from hurt, opening it with a clack. She grabs a handful of pain killers and swallows them dry (this kit is way out of date, back from her moms con days).
Artemis grabs the desk, using it as a clutch to get up, grabbing the kit and stumbling to the small bathroom that couldn't be classified as a storage closet (she could barely squeeze in herself). Her whole body is trembling now, and she clutches the sink as she yanks and pushes off her skin-tight uniform. The bandages she had carefully wrapped around her battered body were stained red, and she cringes as she pulls them off. She chucks them in the small trash can.
Carefully, she uses the sinks muggy water to clean out her cuts, almost screaming at the one on her side. With them all clean, she sits down on the toilet, gasping for breath. She grabs the silver scissors from the set and snips the previous stitches, yelping. It hurts to pull them out, but they soon join the old bandages in the trash.
An anesthetic is applied, and she bites her lip had, drawing blood. She shakily closes the bottle and places it back in the kit. Now, the most painful part. Oh joy (note the sarcasm).
After placing a rag in her mouth as a gag, she threads the pointed needle and-trying not to hesitate-slips it in and begins closing the wound (she nearly cries). Finally (finally) she's done, so she wraps up the wounds, finishing off a knot in her arm.
Again, she almost faints, but she packs away the kit and rinses her face and hair before stumbling to the kitchen to grab some food and water (water water water).
The fridge slams closed and she stumbles to her bedroom and collapses. With her last strain of energy she chows down as fast as she can, wanting it to be done with. Done, done and done; she lays her exhausted head down on the lumpy pillow and closes her eyes.
She dreams of people and homes and beaches and lucky red-head boys-anything but right here, her life now. It's pitiful, but she's so done with following his orders, but she doesn't know how to escape (shes not as resourceful as Jade) and he's threatened her mother. She doesn't want to steal for him, or steal anything at all (she never, ever wanted to hurt anyone-to be the villain).
So she's stuck, probably never getting out, but these dreams, dreams, little pieces of a paradise like the gypsy boy on the trapeze, the red haired boy in Central. She wonders how his life is.
Said boy is hundreds of miles away and running.
A/N
How was it? As you can tell, Wally's up next! Please enjoy, R&R, all that jazz (I looooove jazz music! I'm going to join a jazz band next year (I hope))!
Kisses!
Alyss