Authors Note: Oh my gosh, thank you so much for some of those reviews! So nice to know some people were interested in the idea, so hopefully you guys stay tuned through this next instalment. Not going to lie, this one's pretty long. Near the end it was kind of more word vomit then anything, so bear with it. But anyways, enjoy this next one. (ohmygodHiRedHood.) Reviews are always welcome!
So when you see me coming, you better back down,
Cause I've been waitin to smack you around ,
Oh I don't hold my breath , and I don't hold my tounge ,
And I know that you know that I don't back down,
To No One
-My Leftovers by Porcelain And The Tramps
Left, right, left, launch, fly, land, repeat.
As soon as she tore through the window, Artemis was a flash, riding the highbeams of the warehouse like the tight shadows of the night. Her right arm, lame and crimson, was losing feeling in favor of the adrenaline and absolute lust for a good beat down coursing through her.
It was so useless, so fucking in her way, that as she pushed off with the tight, contracting muscles in her right leg, airborne, she purposely pulled her shoulder out of its socket.
Pain. Everywhere.
She shoved her limp limb through the arm sleeve of her shirt, making it hug the firm of her chest instead of the dull, stale air of the drug warehouse.
Perfect.
Her left leg caught the next beam easily, and she continued towards the lapping sound of leather shoes slapping the cement, as new chemicals were mixing into her system. Guess the deadweight of her shoulder was useful for something, if only for her sadistic want of more energy.
She had learned from an early age, that as a defense mechanism, when the body senses danger and felt pain, the brain turned sugar into more epinephrine to aid in combat on an overload. Turning organs into super mode, almost like her own meta powers, Artemis relished in the electricity flying through her skin like a tidal wave; Fight or Flight (She didn't even know until she was older that the flight part meant escape. She was always under the assumption it solely meant to be free and destroy at the same time. There was never a need to choose; she took both like a moth to the flame).
As opposed to rational thinking, the beatings her father gave her as he had trained her to rock and marble, were her favourite, if only for the sweet satisfaction of when she had gained enough anger, the first punch she would land on his face would break his ugly mask.
The second would always break the nose beneath it.
She had learned, as she had drifted from her father more towards the light, that acquiring those feelings of 'Flight and Escape' were needed if she were to pass as a 'sound' individual. And she almost succeeded in losing those animalistic tendencies, because she was giving up her freedom to fight for freedom, becoming a toy soldier in exchange for some good in her heart. Because she knew it was the right thing to do. She had gotten used to being the front line of assault in Lady Justice's duel.
Didn't mean she enjoyed it all the time.
But she pushed aside those feelings for sense and focus, calm and deadly. A bird's blood was not something that was meant to touch the ground; it was meant to stay afloat, away from the depths of the shadows where the likes of people like her dwelled. Robin was a symbol of freedom.
She was here for amusement and revenge, pure unadulterated rage. And for fucks sake, she was going to take it.
It was an insult for someone to watch her, and use the words "hard worker" to describe her.
Hard worker? Bullshit.
Hard was approximately a few hairs past 50% of full potential. When someone put that much effort in, she would gladly stick an arrow between their diverted eyes and end their plight early. She didn't have time for hard.
The amount of effort, tedious calculations, impeccable precautions she exerted on a day to day basis were excruciating. Her script was all pain,
What angle best to inflict permanent damage,
Will I ride tonight with blood as my banner,
Make sure to smile as you tear through them, sweetie, because here we're all polite and nothing's more intimate than their last breath being wasted on you.
You could take the girl out of the killer, but you could never take the murderer out of the girl.
Poise and control were her chest rising and falling- imagine the possibilities, the pure wrath and misery she would inflict had she let herself go even for a few seconds during a mission, or god forbid, among the others.
Her last clock time had been 19.7 seconds. 36 men; 6 days without sleep. She was so ashamed, so clearly in agony, a sinner, a sinner (she refused church. She refused God; she was her own creation, her own damn terrible perfection).
And the part of her, in the chasms of her soul, laid a monster.
It asked what had happened to 4 of them- why not the perfect 40?
She nearly drowned herself in Gotham River.
The building was decrepit, almost like it had seen too much and held too much in its days to want to make an effort in keeping up appearances. 3 stories high of boxes upon containers, the damp structure was one of the places that Chicago probably wouldn't boast about.
Artemis turned her trained ears towards the running steps, switching directions on a flip much faster than she thought she could in her current state. Even with the hard mix pumping through her veins, this was person was fast.
However, she always won her track team's medals for a reason back at Gotham North. She may not have been Kid Ridiculous, but she hadn't been raised to aim for second.
The loud whoosh of the wind in a coat underneath her swerved left, and Artemis was growing tired of this game of cat and mouse- it was time for tag.
She launched herself into the air once more, falling like a rock and landing with gravity thrusting her forward, on the upper back of a very well dressed man. Artemis used the reacting force at her foot to push, back flipping to her feet as the man stumbled slightly forward. Holding her crossbow in front of her, she took aim at her favourite part of the male anatomy.
"Got a request for how you want your body rearranged, or am I going freelance on your ass?" She snarled, the grip on her weapon sure and ready as it followed the man's posture as it slowly straightened.
The man simply chuckled, reverberating through his shoulders.
"That's adorable that the authorities think that sending one measly vigilante,' he drawled in a baritone tremor, his hand reaching towards his suit jacket. Pulling it off with a smooth movement, he dropped it onto the ground like a used tissue. 'could ever possibly stand up to fight me independently."
Narrowed steel eyes took in his stance; the jut of his hip, the straight lines of his defined face. No red mask, as she had sworn she'd seen from the fleeting shadow that she had followed. Huh- must have been imagining it, she thought to herself.
A cocky tug of his lip in a smirk.
Two could play at that game.
"Fight you?' she grinned, a shiver of anticipation, of greedy hands, of anger and recklessness mixing in some weird cocktail in her brain, 'no, I want to kill you."
He stalked towards her like an uncaged animal, a determined frown etched on his face. Artemis stood her ground, lowering her stance slightly, her mind calculating and anticipating a straight on attack. She narrowed her eyes, as the word huntress sprang to the forefront of her thoughts. The huntress never lets her prey dictate the game from the get go.
She shot an arrow from her cross bow directly at his stomach area, wanting to pro long the man's imminent end for as long as possible. He dodged it, and in a moment that was almost too fast to see, he brought out the tall-tale image of the sheathe of a sword, swinging low to catch her legs. Using an aerial as a dodging mechanism, Artemis almost came away completely unscathed if not for the distinct zing that ranthrough the air, blonde locks falling gracefully to the ground.
She didn't have time to mourn the (albeit small) loss, as another long slash was aimed at her chest. Wind milling away, she drew her cross bow forward and shot for the face; an eye for an eye, she thought bitterly.
Dodging once again in an impressive amount of speed, the man charged directly for her, swinging the sword once more. Back handspring, shoot, back tuck, sweep of the legs, jump, cut in the shoulder, right hook to his jaw- and people thought this was the worst part of her job.
To say that this was the best she'd felt in weeks, as she laid a hard kick to the man's shins, would be an understatement.
"A sword? What is this, medieval revival night?" She taunted.
Suddenly getting much closer than she anticipated, he shoved his hands toward her throat, and threw her backwards with great force. Crashing through a few boxes, chemicals spilled out onto the floor with a purple hugh and pungent like smell. It filled her nostrils, and Oh, right, despite being numb before, burned her flesh as some of it infiltrated into her body through the protruding hole in her shoulder from the previous gun shot wound. Landing on her bad shoulder was not the most pleasant experience she had ever experienced.
Cuts along her legs, rips in her uniform, half of her cowl missing. Bruises forming along her jaw from when he got her in an admiringly hurtful right hook, and it seemed like a few fractures ribs.
Fighting with one arm for balance and offensive maneuvers was something she hadn't really been trained in, but adaption had always been her strong suit.
Then again, adapting to the feeling of neglect and loneliness that she'd felt in the past few months hadn't gone as wonderfully as she would have hoped, said a far away voice in her mind.
The man stared down at the wreckage that was his shipment, prodded the purple drug with his leather shoe, and growled. He then strode towards her, and pushed his right foot down onto her chest with a great amount of force, a few cracks of her ribs filling the air along with both their hard breathing. She held her tongue, but the pain was getting high, and her last resistance was slipping. The nice black eye forming on his dirty skin was an added bonus of a sight.
"Chest or leg, which do I break first?" He said, foot driving into her once more. Artemis gripped her shoulder, as a new pain started to drip its way through her- Kobra venom was not something she had been expecting to roll in like a pile of daisies. However, it did have some nice- benefits.
"You're stepping up to tango at the wrong dance, motherfucker,' she wheezed, trying her hardest to maintain a solid voice.
"You know, it's too bad,' he taunted, a grin with bloody and missing teeth forming and his eyes shrinking in obvious pleasure, 'I would've loved to tear apart Robin's feathers, one,' a kick to her hip,' by one,' another,' and see him withering in pain. But I guess a shot to his ego and an angry Batman will have to do. You dying is just one step closer towards it I guess."
The pressure on her chest was restricting her breathing even more, but she realized that this was the individual that had shot Robin, not the red blur she had seen before. Artemis couldn't help the wheezing, as she tried to mumble something.
"What's that, chum?' he said, leaning down more towards her face, a devious smirk and more force on her body accompanying him. 'Couldn't hear you over the sound of you chocking on your own failure."
His ear was a mere few inches above her chapped, bloody lips.
"You, without a doubt,' she wheezed, each breath coming in hard, 'are the most pathetic, and worthless piece of shit I've ever had the fortune to wipe out of existence."
And then, spat blood all over his face .
He roared, raising a fist high in the air and bringing it down with velocity in his wake. Artemis, using his distraction from choking her, moved her head out of the way as his fist slammed into the concrete, and upper cut him to the jaw. He stumbled upwards slightly, as Artemis brought her legs out from under him, using her left arm to push up her legs onto the mans shoulders, hooking her legs around his neck.
Still reeling from the punch before, Artemis took the opportunity to grab her crossbow once more, pistol whipping him across the face.
Backhand, forehand, backhand, discard the crossbow, knuckle sandwich. Each blow was absolutely liberating, with the more hits, the more blood, the more excitement and absolute giddiness coming out in waves.
Dipping backwards into a back layout, with her legs still hooked around the man's neck, with one hand as balance, Artemis flung him over her, head first into the metal support beams.
The man groaned, and coughed up some blood, spilling onto his now torn dress shirt.
"What's that chum?' asked Artemis, a laugh echoing through her raspy breath, 'I couldn't hear you over the admittance that I'm a perfect motherfucker."
The man stared blearily at the archer, and then, with a lull of his head onto his chest, passed out.
Game, Set, Match, asshole.
A few seconds of eerie silence, save for Artemis' ragged breath, filled the darkness of the warehouse.
But the exterior shadows had nothing on the victorious cry within her. The monster wasn't completely satisfied, more blood wanted, needed. Artemis was bathed in it, her own, his, the world's, Robin's: a never ending thirst for violence kept tugging at her muscles, urging her forward to crack, stab, tear at the broken limps infront of her.
The pain, searing, ever consuming tore through her like fire to the stake, as her demons took over, right foot, left foot.
Stop, please, he's unconscious, we won, we fucking did it, Robin's been avenged, no please, stop we don't need to do this, right foot, left, right-
"-ANSWER ME DAMNIT!"
"wha-what?" Artemis said, whipping her head around checking for whatever had broken her trance.
"I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T ANSWER THIS RIGHT NOW-"
Oh. Her comm link. Kid Flash. The team.
"Wally," she whispered, letting her sigh of relief flow from her like a breath of fresh air. So close, yet he had saved her/him/everyone. How did he manage to do so from so far away?
"Hey harpy,' Kid Flash let out a heavy breath, 'as terrible as this tastes coming out of my mouth, it's surprisingly a big relief to hear you're not dead." Behind those taunts, she could hear a different emotion. One that made her slightly smile.
"You're surprised? Wow, Wall-man, glad to know your confidence in me isn't lagging."
"Artemis, switching from comm to telepathic link." Came Rocket's inner voice through Artemis' mind.
"How'd Robin?" Artemis asked, while limping towards the unconscious criminal still slumped against the support beam.
Ba-dum ba-dum, ba-dum ba-dum.
Pulse. Thank her human weaknesses.
"We're about 15 min away from the closest zeta, but under his current conditions, we're going to have to fly manually back to the cave,' Said Zatanna, her voice a little more high pitched than normal, but stronger than before when the initial bullet had penetrated the bird's chest.
"Good,' she relayed, still infused with melting energy but trying to keep her physical zones away from her mentality (and sanity). 'flying may be slower, but it's a safest bet. Will someone be at the Cave to intercept?"
"Miss M. is waiting, on hand with a few medical personal from the Watchtower zeta-ing to the med bay at the Cave."
Said Superboy, his cool words slightly soothing as compared to the unusual hushes of her other teammates.
For around half a minute, there was a bit of chatter among her teammates; her breathing was hard, ragged, in spurts, still attempting to control the physical reactions her body was still creating.
Her high was coming down, but a sore, tight feeling in her chest lingered. Anger and subverting lust were still gripping her like a lost lover in the night; she was still fucking wired, and it hurt like a bitch.
Now reeling with the pain seeping through her aching bones, Artemis moved the man into a semi-prone position; on his side, one arm straight over his head, one tucked underneath his heavy limb. One leg straight, one leg bent, in an attempt to keep the man still, as well as (not that he deserved it) alive.
She limped to the support beam, and leaned heavily on it. Self-assessment was a hasty affair, yet the paintings across her skin were a canvass of salvation and determination. She refused to be ashamed of the scars she worked so hard for.
"Artemis,' Superboy's voice drifted through her mind, louder than the other's had been, seeing as she had been tuning them out for a solid 3 minutes. 'Did you get the last one? We only counted 5 of 6."
Artemis looked over at the last member of their group- unconscious, inadequate, and totally not feeling the aster. The strange play on word made anger spring up like a coal through her throat, but she shook it back down- Robin would be okay, he has to be, he has to be, 40isanumberIcan'tface.
Taking a deep breath, she thanked her lucky arrow heads that she had learned to separate her physical reactions from her mental reliance's.
"Yeah, we're situated near the back of the warehouse. He's a little tuckered out from playing, so I thought nap time and a cup of apple juice would keep him down out for a bit."
"Unecessary."
"Don't start with me, Kid Squeak; by the way, never knew your voice hit levels above 4 year old girls. Mighty impressive."
"Ah, Harpy, nothing quite brightens my day like your physical absence."
"Hey, Wall-Man, was poking around a bit on the League mainframe. Found your birth certificate- didn't know it was actually just an apology from the condom factory to your unfortunate parents."
"YOU RUSTY OLD HAG-"
"Enough!' mind blasted Zatanna through the link. 'This is not the time for your shit right now!"
Ah, magician hysteria, what would life be like without you? Thought Artemis to herself.
"She started it!"
"Yeah, REAL mature Wallace-"
"Ekam rieht sdnim tnelis ot netsil!"
And suddenly, her thoughts were damp, padded like cotton to the inside of her head. A projection of an idea bounced right back at her, nothing escaping, everything held captive to her mind. Mistaking initially like a vicious cold, Artemis coughed, spluttering a slobber of saliva and blood, in an attempt to extract illness. The earlier scuffle made it slightly more difficult to breathe, and the uncomfortable sensation of her mind being a closed cell was making her claustrophobic. M'gann's mind link made their minds an open skyway of freedom- this felt more like an underground nightmare.
Panic was rising, and something raw was churning in the archer's stomach. It was a sensation unlike any she'd had, like a beast baring teeth growing impatient for release.
"There, now peace and quiet.' Zatanna relayed through the link. 'You can hear us, but we don't need to hear your lover's spat. Artemis, don't worry, we can see a mental picture of where you are currently, so we'll loop around to your location soon. Keep safe for now, yeah? And yes Wally, I understand that this is uncomfortable, no need to flail your hands like a chicken. No, you're not sick, just a little mind cold to keep you two quiet for once."
The man groaned slightly in his black state. Artemis whipped around to face him, eyes wide in confusion, her heart beating, her brow in complete sweat.
Kill, finish him, make the score perfect, come on little girl, force it feel it-
Oh god oh god oh god, Zatanna stop this, please I'll be quiet, Zatanna take this off, I can't sit with my own thoughts, She thought to herself.
Panic. This was pure unadulterated panic.
"Artemis, I'm coming to collect you with Superboy, so sit tight okay?" Voiced Rocket, distracting her from her thoughts.
Please, come fast, oh god, my hands, my hands, my fucking hands are reaching forward, stop, stop stop.
Tears she didn't feel walked silently down her broken face, as her shaking bones moved once more.
And then a silent bullet drew crimson roses along the man's chest before Artemis could even pull in a dull breath.
A large shadow dropped from above her, landing strangely with the finesse of a cat. Straightening out slowly, Artemis made out sordid details of the type of hunter to sand in front of her.
A tattered biker's jacket. Dark jeans, slightly stuck on the brim of combat boots, with gauntlets containing from what she could observe, knives. 2 Ruger Mk II's were held loftly in gloved hands-a suppressor barrel attached to the cool metal.
A shiny, blood mask.
"And we come to you live,' came a gruff voice from the red metal, 'for tonight's entertainment purposes."
Blood oozed along the floor like a snake. Mixing in with the purple Kobra venom, a sizzle filled the air between the two.
Perfect; her body was now probably having a siesta with poison circulating within her veins. She was probably wilting away like a lost piñata.
Struggling to stand up properly to engage the newcomer, Artemis had to dig deep for the inner strength. But she was a Crock, and digging deep (ie. Graves, trouble, hole's of shit) was a special talent for the family.
"I don't recall asking for more festivities,' she grated out, ' but you're intruding on my party, and I don't remember sending out an invite to a man with a period smear for a head."
The Red mask turned. A small –tt - coming from it. When finally facing her, the face went devoid of emotion momentarily.
The air felt charged. Artemis knew something had triggered, and with a bad feeling (it's always bad with her- never anything good), she predicted this would not end well.
"Well, well well,' the Red drawled, not making any large movements. The only thing Artemis noticed, which was really the one thing to worry about, was the twitch of grip holding onto the fucking loaded silencer guns. 'I guess I just hit the jackpot. A drug Lord off my list, and Sportsmaster's little bitchas an added bonus. I'll take my winnings in a bag."
A bag? Sportsmaster's little bitch? Ho ho, so this punk wanted to play ball did he?
"I don't know who the fuck you are,' Artemis said, reaching for a smoke pellet in her belt pocket's slowly. She needed a distraction so she could reach her crossbow on the floor. 'Sportsmaster has got shit to do with me. But if you want to dance?' gripping the small pellet in her weak hand, 'then let's dance monkey."
Tossing the small ball onto the floor, smoke filled the air.
Amature.
Coughing slightly, she turned around to reach for her discarded weapon, when all of a sudden, a bullet penetrated her right calf. Then her left thigh.
She couldn't even help the scream of agony that flew past her dented lips. It was so pure, as she was taken by her bad shoulder, and flung into another set of crates, andeven more Kobra venom, as it seeped into her crying tissues.
Bracing herself, she got up onto her knees, coughing up unmentionable substances from her mouth. It tasted like acid, and reminded her of her father's cooking.
"Come on powderpuff,' chuckled the Red, 'I want to play house. I'll be the dad."
He stalked closer, boot heels clackingthe cement floor. He stood infront of her.
"And I just got home from a long ass day at work. You be the dog, and play fetch!"
Tossed to floor once more from a heavy kick to the torso. Yep, there go her ribs; nope, she's somehow still stubborn, as she tried to rise. Breathing was almost impossible at this point- a collapsed lung(s) was probably a late present to the party Artemis liked to call 'Let's see how many things we can break today without dying!'
"8 minutes Artemis, we're almost there!' Came Rocket's voice. The Team!
She tried to scream her heart out to her teammates, in any way to signal them of her current situation, but to absolutely no avail. Her head, bent and bruised, was affecting her ability to send mental images to their minds, and Zatanna's timely sound disrupting placement was put in at the most critical point imaginable.
Of course this had to happen to her.
'Fuck it, they'll get here when they get here.' She thought to herself, volcano's of pain flowing down her skin into the dirty, dirty floor.
"Is that all you've got princess?' She asked the masked attacker. 'Because right now, all I see is some punk ass who hides behind shiny toys. Why not put them near the door, where you obviously left your balls."
"You're not normal, are you?" The Red asked her, stopping momentarily in their advance.
"Why don't you come to find out, asshole."
He chuckled.
"I'll give you something, pretty bird. You've got sass, and I can't tell if I want to rip out your throat or give you a pat on the head. You're also slightly harder to keep down than you're regular shmoe. I like that. You remind me of myself somewhat." He twisted his weapons on his finger, and then clicked them back into their holsters place at his hips. Lifting his gloved hands towards the red mask, all Artemis could do was stare as he pried it open from the back, to then let it fall from his fingers.
A red domino mask, and a strong chiseled face drew Artemis' attention to regard it more intensely than she normally would to someone who was beating the living crap out of her. Black, slightly matted hair from the helmet fell over his face. But the weirdest feature?
"One white streak?' Artemis snorted, the action hurting everything in her upper torso and throat, but she tried to not let it show, 'You poor old, delusional fuck. Come at me, you ancient piece of dirt." Artemis got into a fighting stance as best she could. It was difficult, with 3 limbs profusely bleeding themselves out, one of them completely out of commission, something or other dripping into her eyes, and an itch for skin on skin contact.
And by that, after looking over this man's physical features, Artemis was in serious contemplation if she meant fighting or fucking.
What she wasn't expecting, however, was him chuckling darkly, rapidly bringing out what seemed to be a knife and charging her like the madman he was.
Currently, her party of 'Let's see how many things we can break' was going to be a lot higher than she expected (hoped).
She didn't stand a chance as the slashes carved her like bark.
She also didn't have an ounce of hope as he regarded her, a heap of disgusting and somewhat obscene, lit a match, and threw it onto the pile of Kobra Venom still sitting innocently on the floor near her.
The explosion ran for miles and miles, but the last thing Artemis Crock heard was the maniacal laughter of some bitch with weird hair and a fucking beautiful face.
Sooo that's chapter 2! Did you enjoy it? Did you hate it?(well I sincerely hope you didn't, but it's your opinion!) Let me know in a review!
Next Chapter: Jason Todd has a really odd habit of bringing everyone he knows back from the dead. He also enjoys giving everyone he knows nicknames, a torturing them with obscene sexual innuendos and guns. Lots and lots of guns.