Back in Cambridge, Massachusetts, I had little time to pack up my belongings before returning to Central City.
I couldn't exactly sleep very well either. I had been having nightmares about the vibrating red creature - nightmares that involved him brutally beating up my body on an empty street. Who was he? A small fear tugged at me that I had seen him before, once when I was younger...
I fervently prayed it wasn't him.
"You always speed in to save the day."
That's what Thompson had said to him before the crimson being mercilessly overpowered him.
Speed in to save the day?
Saving the day involved helping people, not beating them.
But... But Thompson had been on the verge of poisoning the entire city block with his toxic smoke...
The being had no choice - Thompson couldn't control his abilities, and if he wasn't stopped, he would soon have killed off everyone.
But what could Thompson have done? His powers seemed to be directly controlled by his emotions, and the police force had performed an excellent job of targeting him and making him as if he was a threat.
The only way he could've been stopped was by being taken down, and the police weren't powerful enough to do that.
Only the red speedster was...
I had said my goodbye to my parents at the Cambridge Cemetery, then headed over to the train station, finally accepting the fact that I was going to leave with more fear than anticipation.
I boarded the train and found my seat, before allowing my mind to wander off again.
Such abilities... I pondered in amazement, settling down for my long train ride.
Thompson had woven himself into the air. He could turn into smoke when provoked or frightened. More so, he had quickly managed to cover an entire city block with the black fumes in less than a minute.
Granted, he was not able to harness his abilities, but the fact that he had superhuman capabilities still pierced my heart with fear as well as a reluctant fascination.
Forget Thompson - the zooming red alien-like being had really stolen the show that night.
That speed - the creature moved quicker than lightning. Was it even a metahuman?
It seemed too surreal to me that a human could be powerful enough to accomplish a feat like that. It had seemed unearthly, unrealistic. But I had seen it with my own eyes... The being ran into the scene, had saved us all from the horrifying smoke in less than a second, and had defeated Andrew Thompson in mere moments.
I couldn't believe I was moving to a city where this happened, where I would be working at a laboratory highly involved in occurrences such as this.
The lab, I remembered with disdain.
Thompson spoke about STAR Labs with disgust and hatred. But that couldn't be true, correct?
STAR Labs was internationally renown - my own professors had regarded Dr. Harrison Wells and his work about energy-charged particles with admiration, respect and and reverence. They had known Wells many years before we had even been born - the man was in every physics textbook, had biographies published about him, had his own books published in every language and made famous in every corner of the world. He was revolutionizing clean energy and medicine through his work on particle control, and had planned on making clean energy free so we wouldn't be destroying our valuable ecosystems anymore and so healthcare could be more readily available and at cheaper costs. He had documentaries made about him, he was one of the greatest up and coming scientists of our day - the modern day Einstein. He was just as influential as Newton, Tesla, Marie Curie, Galileo, Stephen Hawking, my parents -
My parents.
They would have been ecstatic to find out about this. Or - maybe they would have had higher expectations - that I would perform my own scientific work rather than latching onto another lab.
See, my parents - Laurus and Ariadne Van Kleiss - were scientists as well. And no ordinary ones, while we're at it.
My mother was born and raised in Athens and was accepted to Harvard as an international student, where she met my father, of Dutch descent. They were both enthusiastic physicists who met during college before getting married. They were the ones responsible for discovering a new element - named vankleissium, in their honor. The new element, they found, was rather uncontrollable and ineffectual when it came to doing anything, hence its alternative moniker, ecfrenatus, Latin for uncontrollable. The two of them began receiving anonymous death threats for their work, however - threats that promised to kill them should they continue their work. They chose to ignore the threats, believing they were hoaxes from envious rival scientists wanting the praise for their work.
At some point, I was born, and my parents had to balance a family life raising a new fascination - their daughter - as well as studying one in a lab - the element. They had found that while the element was not particularly reactive, it could easily be transformed and changed to resemble other elements, both in appearance and texture - opening new doors to molecular applications as well as questioning whether or not the element could actually substitute its chosen dopplegangers.
These discoveries were followed by more threats, this time promising to kill me if my parents did not stop their work.
As loving parents, this obviously struck a chord within them, and they hired guards to watch over their work and their lab, and over myself and their home - maximum security on everything, and had reported the threats to the police as well, before continuing their work.
We lived and worked in peace for a few years before my parents discovered that, yes, the particle could be used to substitute any other material given proper laboratory modification - opening doors to thousands of technological and medical applications, allowing my parents to completely reinvent the field of artificial chemistry, and of course, this didn't go without application.
My parents soon received a phone call from Stockholm, Sweden, proudly inviting them over to Europe to receive a Nobel Peace Prize for all of their work.
This was also the moment when the death threats, which had left us alone for a few years, finally returned and reached their peak - receiving hundreds of ominous phone calls and notes in our mailbox, on our windows, on our cars, everywhere.
My father was physically beaten by a mysterious man on a trip back from the grocery store, and my mother barely escaped a terrifying car crash that left seven others dead.
Younger me would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and would run to my parents' room, recounting that a scary man was watching me sleep from my window, but our nightly guards would promise that they hadn't seen anyone there and that every inch of the perimeter was secured, though I swore there was a scary figure, peering down at me.
The police were unable to find a match behind the fingerprints on the threatening notes left behind, or track down the voice behind the phone calls promising death, nor were they able to trace who this horrifying figure was.
My parents hesitated about leaving for Europe, and after several stressful weeks filled with arguments and confusion, managed to agree that my father, Laurus, would leave alone, while my mother would stay behind in Cambridge with her eight year old daughter.
What should have been the happiest moment of our lives became the most stressful. I remember seeing my mother shivering with fear as she hugged my father goodbye at the airport, and my father trying his best to stay upbeat as he lifted my mother's chin, assuring her that everything would be okay, that he'd be back as soon as possible, that he'd call us every hour, and that everything would go back to normal soon. I remember seeing my mother finally break down into tears after we arrived home, when she saw that a horrifying note was posted on our door, written in a blood-like ink for added effect, no less -
Now, you've done it.
You've continued despite my warnings - you didn't believe me.
Your family will be ripped apart, and everything you've worked for will be destroyed.
The guards, who had been stationed at our house and laboratories round the clock, said they didn't see anyone or anything come anywhere near our house, and solemnly swore that they had nothing to do with it. The security camera footage didn't show anything either - it was completely clean. The only visible people were the armed guards watching the house, and my mother and I returning. My mother called for more security, this time for members of the SWAT team and the FBI. She phoned my father and the hotel where he would be staying at, and ordered for maximum protection there as well. With shaking hands, she drove me back into town to lock up our lab before returning home and taking me with her to her bedroom to sleep. My mother, who rarely showed fear, was openly afraid, and Papa, always brilliant and caring, was in Sweden all alone, about to receive a prestigious award tomorrow morning, and an unknown man had threatened murder upon our family.
Suffice to say nobody got any sleep.
The next morning, we woke up early to check up on our house and with the guards, then settled down in the living room, ready to watch my father walk the stage and receive the Nobel. I remember myself cheering with glee and my mother silently crying tears of joy as my father and my hero, held up his award on live television and said his speech, dedicating his life's work to his daughter, Artemis, and that he owed everything to his best friend, partner and beloved wife, Ariadne, both of whom were not able to join him.
My mother and I called Papa after the ceremony, both to congratulate him and to ask if things were safe. He assured us that the situation was as safe as could be, and that we were heroes now - nothing could stop us.
His last words to us were said through the phone call that night, assuring us that we were great people, and were unparalleled in the entire universe. Nothing, he said, could take us away from him, and that he would be home soon. Papa then told my worrisome mother to calm down and get some sleep, and that he would be back on the plane to America the next day.
We believed him.
In the morning, we called my father, expecting more promises that he'd be at the airport, finished with his packing, ready to come home to us soon. He didn't answer. My mother dialed him again to no avail. She tried calling him again, and then a fourth time, before calling the registrar at his hotel.
A Swedish police officer answered my mother and with a heavy voice, explained to her that Laurus Van Kleiss, Nobel Prize winner and legendary physicist, the genius behind vankleissium, had been found in his hotel room with a huge, gaping, bloodied hole through his sternum and back, his papers scattered all across the floor, the room's windows, mirrors, and glasses shattered and in pieces.
Police and detectives were unable to piece together how the murder had happened: the guards positioned outside of my father's room and on the hotel balcony were found deceased in identical manners, and security footage again showed nothing: the men appeared to simply fall dead at the same moment the glass windows exploded, and the hole in my father's chest appeared out of thin air.
My mother was left in pieces, unconsolable, and I was severely scarred by the instance. My heroic genius of a father had been killed after he received the greatest award in the world, and nobody could figure out how. The news was broadcasted internationally, and detectives from all across the world had been personally requested by my mother to find out who was responsible for his death.
Nobody was able to find anything, and the case was almost immediately declared cold.
His body was returned to us, and my mother immediately sent for it to be investigated again. Hopefully, the Americans could find something. Again, forensic scientists and detectives were unable to figure out what had happened.
After weeks of analysis, the best they could come up with what that whoever did this was too fast to be detected.
###
We held my father's funeral quietly at the Cambridge Cemetery. Both of my parents were only children, without siblings, and had lost their own parents to old age. I remember the shock and pain I had felt when I had realized the only family I had left was my mother, as old classmates, professors and friends comforted us.
My mother had the family laboratories shut down, and pulled me out of school, keeping me with her for each living second. She had lost my father when they were separated. She had vowed to protect me with everything she had, or so help her. Security was almost quadrupled. My mother kept a gun with her at all times, and each square foot of the house was bugged, making our once cozy two-story house seem more like a military complex.
For a few nights, it seemed as if we could actually live safely.
One morning, my mother had asked for me to get ready to leave with her. She had arranged for a press conference, and would be announcing some very important news to the science world. We drove to one of Harvard's lecture halls, filled with reporters, journalists, faculty members, and some close students. She sat me down in the front row, and walked over to the podium, ready to face her audience. She had always kept her beautiful blonde hair cut short in a pixie cut, and decided to wear her glasses and red leather jacket that day.
With pain in her honey-like voice, she publicized that she no longer had the heart to continue her and her husband's work on the properties of vankleissium after his sudden death, and was resigning from her position as a physicist. Our labs would be permanently closed, and while they had shared much of their work on venkleissium with the world, she would not disclose the rest of data, leaving it a secret forever. Her sole priority, now, would be raising her daughter and keeping her safe. Nobody had solved Laurus Van Kleiss' murder, and until his killer was discovered and thrown in prison, my mother swore that she would have nothing to do with the work that got her husband killed.
The hall erupted into an uproar, and several journalists tried to stop my mother from leaving, pleading with her to answer her questions on her way out. She silently walked over and retrieved me, then left Harvard silently, scowling as we drove back home.
The second we got home, she ran upstairs, instructed a handful of guards to watch over me, and shut herself up in her room.
From the other side of the door, I could hear loud, unrestrained sobbing.
This was the only moment my mother had willingly left my side since my father had been killed.
###
That night, my mother finished her nightly routine of double checking all the locks and bolts on our windows and doors, checked in with our guards, then took me to her room to go to sleep.
But I couldn't sleep - I was more confused than ever. All I could understand was that Papa had been killed mysteriously and viciously, and that Mama was going to quit her work, and everyone was mad at her, and her response was to shut them out. My mother was no longer the strong, witty, youthful and confident scientist who had taken the world by storm. She was weak and sad now, and afraid. So so very afraid.
I began to weep as she pulled me in closer. She rose her head in response.
"Temi, what's wrong? I thought you were asleep," she murmured as she comforted me, stroking my hair.
"Mama, everything is so bad now. Papa's not here, and you are always scared."
Tears burned helplessly from my eyes down my cheeks. She wiped them away with a kind hand before snuggling my head in the curve of her neck like she did when I was a small child.
"I want Papa back, Mama." I wept. I began trembling with sobs now, and my mother rose and hugged me to her chest. She softly began crying as well.
"Hush, child. You're a big girl now. A big girl with a big heart and a strong mind," she kissed my forehead. "You are young, but you have so much strength in you as well, strength you do not know of yet. Soon, you will accomplish great things. Your father is not here, but I am, and I vow to love you and protect you. You will go on to become a great woman, you'll see. Find that strength, and you can do amazing things, Temi. Your father would be proud of you. You need to make sure you keep your head in the game, and make me proud too, okay?"
Her voice cracked gently from her tears. She squeezed my shoulder and kissed my face.
I didn't understand much of what she was saying, but her smooth voice consoled me.
Then, Mama got up, turned on the lights and walked to her and Papa's chest of drawers, where they kept files and papers that didn't concern me. She opened up the first drawer, one that could only be opened by key, and rummaged through it until she found what she was searching for, and walked back over to me on the bed.
"Temi, look what I have here," she said kindly as she emptied her hands onto the mattress between us. I saw several rings, a silver chain, a key ring, and a few pairs of brass keys. She picked up two of the rings - golden bands with Harvard's logo on their faces, one slightly smaller than the other, and placed them in my small hands.
"These are our college rings. Papa and I received them when we were finished with our school."
I closed them in my hand, and watched Mama pick out another ring - a small band with a huge, perfectly cut diamond in the center.
"And this, Tema, is the engagement ring your father gave me when he proposed," she said, smiling as I turned the new ring around in my hands.
"Did we ever tell you how he proposed to me?"
I shook my head no.
"Well, we were good friends when we first started college. But I never really liked him more than that," She said with a laugh, "But near the end of our undergraduate studies, he started going off about how he loved me and was going to marry me. I dismissed him as crazy, and told him he'd have to win me over before any of that. I wasn't going to spend my entire life with someone just because they were my lab partner." She explained, her beautiful smile not leaving her lips. She all too rarely revealed that smile nowadays. I smiled back at her. Anything to keep that smile lasting longer, anything to keep her happy and not afraid. I giggled.
"But you did, Mama. You did marry him," I said. She laughed in response, and tickled my stomach, eliciting more giggles from me.
"He started putting up more of an effort when we started graduate school. Took me to places much nicer than the old library or Big Belly Burger. He spent more time with me, tried to be funnier, cooler, smoother. It didn't work, but I saw that he truly cared and actually meant it when he loved me. So, on the day we received our Masters, right after the grad ceremony, he got down on one knee and proposed to me with that very ring - right in front of both of our families! I remember feeling so embarrassed being confronted like that in front of my parents - as it was kind of improper - but I said yes. Your father was a very kind, caring and hardworking man. I couldn't imagine being with anyone else," She looked away, and I allowed her to have her moment to relive the memory. She turned back to me, and kissed my cheek.
"You are just like him, you silly girl." She said, tickling me under my chin. Again, I giggled helplessly. I was hopelessly ticklish, and Mama knew that.
"You have his laugh, you know, and the same gorgeous black hair as him," she murmured, looking into my eyes, "And the same kind of fearless determination that he had. When you grow up, you'll be a very strong woman, my little Artemis." She stopped and stroked my hair for a second, then picked up the last ring - a wedding band. It was a much more elaborate version of the last ring, with a rose gold band, and rubies flanking the centerpiece diamond on either side, fashioning the gems into an expertly crafted crescent.
"This one, as you know, is the ring I was given at our wedding. Your father knew how madly I was obsessed with the moon, and said that if I wasn't going to marry him because I loved him, then at least I should stay with him because he was moon-eyed for me and couldn't do anything about it," she recalled with a laugh.
"That's where you got your name, my beautiful. The moon is a very beautiful, but sad, celestial body. But she has a power of her own... Even if everyone is asleep when she rises, even if you cannot see her on some nights, you know she is there. She is there, and she is always watching, always protecting her Sun. She shines her special light on the people below her, a light you cannot find anywhere else, not even in the stars. There is only one moon, and she is unique. Because - without the darkness, she can never shine," She explained.
I admired the ring for a second in my hand, then something clicked in my brain.
"But Mama, sometimes I see the moon in the mornings. And the sun is there too!" I declared, "And what about - about eckipses?" I started, unable to remember the word Papa had taught me once.
"The moon and the sun are together sometimes," I continued stubbornly.
Mama leaned her head to one side, and kissed me gently on the cheek.
"And Mama - Daddy said I was named for a goddess. Artemis. The goddess of hunting women-"
Mama interrupted me before I could explain to her that other planets had moons too.
"The goddess of the hunt and of maidenhood, child. Artemis protected the animals, and looked after the women to make sure they were safe before they were married. And she rode the chariot that was the moon. She was a very strong and determined legend, just as we hoped you would be," In later years, I learned that Mama was giving me a watered down, child's version of the tale, "In either case, we named you this because you are our only child - our only moon. And you bring light to our lives - to my life," She corrected herself, remembering she would not be sharing me with anyone anymore, "And you, my love, have more in you than you know. You are my little girl, and you are so amazing," she said, as she fought me with more tickles. I hugged her arm and adjusted so I was sitting beside her, and she picked up the smaller of the two brass keys.
"Now, this is the key to our house. I always thought I would give this to you when you were older, but you can never be too careful, nai? If it makes you feel safer knowing you can have this, I want you to have it."
I nodded my head, and Mama added the key to my collection of trinkets. She picked up the last charm - the larger brass key. It had Van Kleiss Labs engraved in a fine print upon its bow and Artificial Chemistry and Physics Research cut into either sides of the blade. She gave it a long, sad look, then sighed as she held it out to me.
"This one, Temi, is the key to our laboratory. When we find out what happened to Papa, when his killer is brought to justice, we will go back and continue our work. We will go back and reopen the lab, and you will be the one who will unlock the door. You and I will work together. You will bring our work back to its original legacy, and you will carry on our name with pride and reverence."
I smiled and nodded my head at her.
"Now, you should also know that this is the only key left. Only two were made - one for Papa, one for me. Your father has the other key. I only saw fit that he keep it with him for the rest of eternity. But this - this is mine, and I entrust it to you. You will reopen the lab, and you will make us proud. So, so proud." She kissed me again, then held her hand out to me. I gave her everything back, and she fastened the keys and rings onto the keyring, and strung that about the silver chain. She held up the result - a beautiful necklace with a very valuable charm pendant. I took it from her and put it on, admiring the collection in my hand.
"Silly girl, you're going to wear it to sleep?" She asked kindly. I pumped my chin up and down in response.
"I won't stop you, but what if it hurts you in your sleep?" she asked with motherly concern.
"It won't, Mama. You gave it to me. I'll sleep fine," I responded. She smiled and pulled me in her arms, and leaned back down upon the pillows, singing a Greek lullaby to me. I was far too old for lullabies, but they were most effective at putting me to sleep. Songs about happiness, about warmth and comfort, promising a life without issues, given that I get good rest. As if sleep was the answer to all of life's problems.
My eyes lulled to sleep as Mama continued to sing, her warm smile the last thing I saw.
###
We slept peacefully for a few hours, but I jolted awake suddenly. The ground was shuddering steadily. It wasn't supposed to do that.
I shook my mother awake.
"Mama - earthquake!"
"What? Earthquake?" She sat up straight and looked around, "But Tema, the ground isn't shaking, only the -"
Her eyes grew wide as she stopped mid-sentence. She quickly grabbed me and held me tightly in her arms. I could hear Mama's heart pounding like a drum inside her chest. I had no idea what was going on. The shuddering got louder and louder. Outside, the guards on the balcony looked at each other with confusion.
"Something bad is going to happen," she whispered, looking at me with wide, scared eyes.
For a moment, everything stood perfectly still. Mama held her breath in fear. The only sounds were her beating heart and the trembling noise, both of which grew more and more intense by the second. I couldn't tell what was happening. I wondered if Mama was afraid for no reason.
Then the shuddering became deafening as it hit its peak, and lightning struck the glass door. No, it wasn't lightning, but somehow the windows and the glass door leading out to the balcony exploded with a burst of blinding light, and my mother squeezed me against her even tighter as shards of glass flew everywhere.
My six year old brain was able to understand very little of what occurred next.
The light that had destroyed the glass door started circling the room at unfathomably fast speeds, throwing perfume bottles off of Mama's dressing table, ripping picture frames off of the walls, sending the entire room into a loud, chaotic vortex.
Mama held a tight grip on me, but from between her arms, I could see that the light had taken on the form of a red and yellow man. No, not one man, I realized. Two. One red, one yellow, chasing each other around the room, each followed by yellow and red lightning, respectively - both nearly impossible to discern as they zoomed around at impossibly fast speeds.
Mama screamed, and broke one arm free to retrieve her revolver hidden underneath her pillow. She struggled to load it with spare bullets as the lightning demons continued to rip around the room.
With a shock, I had realized that pieces of glass had pierced her arms and even her temple, but that didn't stop her.
One of the men made a sudden move at us, but was stopped by the other as they continued in their tornado of a fight.
Mama took her gun and began to try to shoot at them, but to no avail - the beings were simply going too fast. She kept shooting anyway, lodging bullets into the walls, the TV, anywhere. Soon, she ran out of bullets, threw the gun, and once again held me in her iron hug, but before I could hug her back and release the scream I had been containing during the entire instance, I was outside, on the lawn, at the edge of the street, in the exposed cold.
The beings had been in there for only seconds, and I was somehow outside.
The guards at our front door and porch were taken aback by finding six year old Artemis in her Unicorn Fairy pajamas fallen on the lawn. I had no idea how I got there, but I ran towards them, and screeched for my mother. On the balcony, I could see the two guards positioned there lying flat, blood painting the ledge.
They had been killed.
The other sentries joined the ones from the front door, and pounded their heavy feet up the stairs, while two stayed behind to try and contain me. I screamed and sobbed. Mama was up there all alone, and she had no means to protect herself from whatever the hell was happening up there. With panic, I remembered the headlines from Papa's murder - Nobel Prize Winner Laurus Van Kleiss found Dead in Hotel Room Amid Broken Glass, Murder Scene is Insensible. Whatever was going on inside was going to kill Mama, just like it had to Papa, I realized. My fear took a new form as pure adrenaline, and I pushed my way out of the arms of my protectors, and ran inside the house and up the stairs, the guards chasing me, yelling at me to stop. The other eighteen or so guards were all around my mother's room, trying to push the door open. Three slammed into the door at once, and it fell from its hinges. I pushed through them and ran inside.
Mama was still alive, but the creatures who were there before had stopped. One had disappeared, actually. Mama was sitting up straight, awash in fear, and made eye contact with me. The guards now stood in the same line as me, just as shocked as I was.
"Artemis, you need to leave! Get out!" She shouted, then turned to her left, her once beautiful brown eyes raging with fear.
There was a ghostly man standing there. A tall one, in a yellow suit that phased into black as it went down to his feet. He wore a yellow cowl that hid all of his face save for his mouth, curled in a horrible smile as he faced me, and eyes as red as burning coals - a face that would haunt me in my nightmares well into adulthood. There was a lightning-shaped emblem on his chest. Just as soon as we had noticed each other, he shoved a knife in my mother's chest and sneered as she slumped back against the headrest. I let out a horrified scream, tears burning my eyes as I ran to her bedside, and the guards open fired on him. The other lightning man - the red one - appeared from the other side of the room, jumped over our heads, slammed into the yellow one, and both disappeared in a fit of static.
It was all over just as soon as it had happened - again, in mere seconds. Milliseconds, perhaps.
A handful of guards ran over to where the two beings had disappeared, and I climbed the bed and sat on my mother's lap.
I pray that no child see what I faced that night.
The large knife stuck perpendicularly out of my mother's chest, blood blossoming thickly around the wound, through her purple nightdress. Her eyes and mouth were closed, and her head fell to one side, blood streaming down her temple, where a glass shard as big as my thumb had embedded itself. Her arms - the same arms that were holding me so tightly and with so much strength and love only moments ago, were sprinkled with bits of glass from the initiating explosion and fell limp at her sides.
Mama was stabbed.
Mama was critically hurt.
Papa was dead and now Mama was dying - and I had seen how it had happened.
The police are wrong. No human killed papa. The suspect wasn't human, I thought with shock as a guard lifted me off of my mother and wrapped a wool blanket around me.
A squad of police officers ran into the bedroom, and big, hot, salty tears ran down from my eyes and onto my cheeks as I fell to the ground and sobbed. A guard picked me up and led me out of the room and into the downstairs foyer, then uselessly hugged me as I sat there, taken by the shock.
Outside, I heard a firetruck and ambulance roll in, and firefighters and paramedics joined the security guards, police officers, and my dead mother upstairs. They returned downstairs, two carrying a gurney that held my mother, and I helplessly followed them outside, wanting to be with Mama.
No.
Mama wasn't dead.
She was in shock from the knife. It hadn't gone in too deep, did it? She was okay. She was just exhausted and scared and worried - and getting stabbed just caused her to fall unconscious after all that stress. The monster missed the heart. She was alive. She was okay - she was just resting.
I hobbled in after them, dropping the blanket.
She was okay.
A mustached man wearing a police badge and suit stopped me at the porch, and got down on one knee to speak to me.
"Hey. I'm Commissioner James Gordon. I know what you just saw, but you can't just run out like that," he said softly, replacing the warm wool blanket over my shoulders.
"Mama - Mama..." I was incapable of saying anything else, and Gordon pulled me into a hug, then got up and led me outside, where I saw a legion of police cars, SWAT and FBI trucks, a fire brigade, a fire truck, and two ambulances. The paramedics I had seen earlier were pushing Mama into the back of one of the ambulance, and another group of paramedics led me by the arms into the other one.
All of these people came to help us, and they were all late, I thought numbly, as I watched the paramedics shut the doors to the back of the ambulance and get ready to drive Mama away.
Later on, I was placed in a hospital room, where several nurses came in to check up on my vital signs, which were all normal, save for an overly-excited heart beat. I personally could care less what was happening to me, and insisted on getting information about my mother.
"Where's my mama? Is she okay?" The nurses didn't answer. They smiled at my apologetically.
"Do you know what happened to her? Can I go see her?" My murmurs were breaking into tears again, and the nurses left, and a doctor entered the room with Commissioner Gordon.
They both got down on their knees to face me, and I remember my head spinning painfully as I tried to wrap my head around what they were saying, blacking out afterwards.
Dr. Ariadne Van Kleiss, Ph.D, wife of Laurus Van Kleiss, had passed away. She was dead on arrival, they explained.
I had watched Mama die before my very eyes.
###
The next few weeks had been slow and painful, I remembered. Our once grand house was closed for investigation, and Officer Gordon allowed me to stay with him for a few weeks until my father's lawyer arrived. I had been taken to the police department several times a week, asked to report what I saw and how everything had happened. I felt sick of telling the same gruesome story over and over again. The room started shaking, the glass door broke, two figures made of light tornadoed around the room, I was outside, I ran inside, I saw one of them kill Mama, the red one attacked the yellow one, then they just disappeared.
The officers didn't believe me.
They'd ask me to tell them what really happened, so I'd repeat the story again, this time, tearful.
"Why won't you believe me?" I had demanded, "I'm telling you - monsters killed her! The suspects aren't human! They're lightning monsters!"
The officers gave each other wistful looks, apologetically handed me a lollipop and had someone come get me.
Once, while I was at the police station after another repetitious interrogation, I heard two officers discussing something in the other room.
"Do we have anything on Van Kleiss yet?"
"No. The kid is innocent, that much we know. The guards say they found her outside, and when they all ran back up to the room, the mother was dead and her kid was screaming."
"Still no suspects?"
"We can't find anything on the fingerprints behind the notes, or the voices behind the phone calls. We're literally unable to deduce anything. There's no DNA on the knife found in her chest either. Whoever did this is unidentifiable. No voice match, no fingerprint match. Its like they don't even exist."
"Well, get this," I heard some papers slap down on a table.
"Nora Allen. 32 years old. Worked two part time jobs as a librarian and as a waitress. No crime records, or anything, but sources say she was in a struggling marriage. She was killed on the same night as Van Kleiss. Her son, who was an eye witness, said the same thing as the Van Kleiss girl, except the girl said she saw a yellow and black suited man, who she claims did it. Allen's son said that the windows and glasses broke, the house was thrown into chaos, speeding red/yellow lights around his mom, then he was somehow transported outside, out of harm's way, then managed to get back in, found his mom stabbed on the floor, the human lights disappeared, and his father was convicted."
"Same exact night?"
"Yep. Both murders occurred within minutes of each other. The boy lost his mother around midnight - that's when his father called the police, and the guards at the Van Kleiss house called in barely ten minutes after. But get this - "
"What?"
"The Allen murder took place in Central City. Central. City. That's nowhere near Cambridge, and the two women have nothing in common with each other, save for the fact that they were mothers. That's it. They didn't know each other, completely different backgrounds, nothing in common at all, other than their kids. And there was no actual evidence found that proved Henry Allen killed his wife. No fingerprints, no nothing."
"So we just gonna assume all single-child mothers are going to die, and that their only witnesses are gonna give us sci-fi garbage about human lightning bolts?"
"I don't know, man. I don't know what to make of this."
I remembered my heart feeling insanely heavy afterwards. Not just my mom, but another child had lost his mom as well. He was going through the same thing. I remember feeling so confused about it, then Commissioner Gordon walked in with a tall, gaunt man wearing a black suit, holding a brown leather briefcase with both hands.
"Artemis, this is Mr. Lin Walker. He's your father's lawyer. He'll be in charge of you now."
Mr. Walker smiled at me with distant eyes, thanked Gordon, then walked me out of the room. I turned around and saw Mr. Gordon smiling sadly at me. I escaped Mr. Walker's grip on my shoulder, and ran back to Mr. Gordon and gave him a hug around his waist. He had been one of the kindest people to me in this time, and had cared for me a lot when I stayed at his house. He bent down and returned the embrace.
"Thank you, Mr. Gordon."
"No problem, Artemis."
"Artemis?" I heard a voice behind me call out. It was that Walker guy. He was checking his watch. He clearly wasn't one for heartfelt moments.
"I need to go. Bye, Mr. Gordon."
"Goodbye, Artemis. Take care of yourself," Mr. Gordon replied. I turned back towards the other man and hoped he would be kind like Mr. Gordon. But little did I know that that would be the last I would see of Mr. Gordon before he relocated to a gloomy city named Gotham, where we would meet again.
###
Mr. Walker drove me without saying a word to a small cafe in downtown Cambridge, and bought two sets of lunch. He blandly placed one set in front of me, took a bite out of his own, then opened up the briefcase and pulled out several papers.
"Now, Artemis. First things first, I'm terribly sorry for your loss, it's a very difficult time for you, I hope you get better, and you definitely will," He said matter-of-factly through a mouth half full of food. I immediately disliked his business-forward attitude.
"I'm here to let you know that because you do not have any family, you will be adopted into a foster home," he began, not bothering to make eye contact, "and that this family will be the one to care for you. Because you are an only child, you will inherit all your parents' home, property and their money, but in due time. You are clearly too young for that now. Only once you reach the age of eighteen, however, will everything fall to you. Until then, I am in charge of everything. If there is anything else you would like for me to hold onto in the meantime, please let me know." He continued, signing off on the papers in front of him.
My hand reached the charm hanging from my neck. I took a second to think it over, and took it off, handing it to him.
"What's this?" he asked, looking confused.
"My - my mother's dowry," I explained solemnly, "She gave it to me the night she...died."
"Oh?" he said, closing his fingers around it. "I'll take good care of it, I promise. I'll lock it up in your parents' safe." He pulled his briefcase up, and put the necklace in one of the inside pockets.
In a few days, Mr. Walker drove me out of Massachusetts and into a small neighborhood in New Jersey, where I met my adoptive family. The middle aged parents introduced themselves as Kim and Greg Lee, and they had a small family of a son and a girl, both younger than me. They led me to a poorly decorated room with two beds, and told me I'd be sharing the room with their daughter, Kristin. Mr. Walker said his goodbyes, thanked the family, and left.
The Lees were good people, but I was not a good stepdaughter.
For one, I cried an awful lot. Nightmares of the two lightning beasts would wake me up in cold sweat, and I would scream and sob loudly, waking everyone up.
I would cry when they tried to feed me, I would cry when they tried to take me out, I would cry when they tried to comfort me with toys and hugs.
I picked fights with their children. I constantly reminded them that they were not my real family, not my real parents, that I didn't belong here - that I belonged in Cambridge, that I was a Van Kleiss. I would wreak havoc at nighttime, when Kim and Greg would try to put me to sleep, screaming that the lightning men would zoom into the room and kill me, and kill them too, causing their children to cry, frustrating everyone.
Soon, I started running away. I would go missing for several days, weeks at a time, which worried the Lees right out of their minds. I would be found a disgusting, filthy mess, and brought back - only to run away again. The Lees didn't dare put me under house arrest, something they did not wish for their own children to see.
They tried to enroll me in therapy, but at my first session with the psychiatrist, when she asked me questions about how I felt and what was wrong, I snapped at her, saying she was a fake and that "talking" wasn't going to fix things, then kicked her in the shin, and stormed out, ordering Kim to take me back home.
I would run away from school after they dropped me off, and meandered into town and into small shops and stores, and steal and break things - not because I wanted to, but because I was mad and nobody did anything about it.
The world had given up on my loving parents. The world deserved to be punished at the hands of a scrawny, unkempt second grader.
Greg would be infuriated when he'd receive calls from the police department, that his now nine year old stepdaughter had committed felonies - again. The few times I was in school (usually due to force), I would spit on and bully the other kids, colored with my crayons in the schoolbooks, drew angry faces with permanent markers on the walls, sneered at my fourth grade teacher that I didn't care about math and English, ripped up homework sheets in front of her, and cut them with safety scissors into alphabet letters that spelled mean things while the other children would innocently be learning about adjectives and double digit multiplication. I spent more time in the principal's office than in the classroom.
In the three and a half years I lived with the Lees, I had been kicked out of four schools, spent a total of six months on the run, had earned a rep for being the neighborhood bad kid, and had racked up nearly a thousand dollars in repair and restoration charges.
Finally the Lees called Mr. Walker and gave me up, saying I was an uncontrollable trouble maker who was becoming a horrible influence on their own children, and that their wallets were being drained from all the reimbursements they were being forced to pay because of my vandalism and small crimes.
Mr. Walker came and picked me up, and quickly handed me off to another family in Virginia, the parents having two older sons. They would be able to handle me. After all, they had raised two sons, both older than me, Walker said. They'd be able to take of me and I'd be happier with them, he promised.
My new family, the Huangs, lived in a nicer home and in wealthier conditions than the Lees. Darren Huang was an engineer, his wife Michelle a renown psychologist. They gave me my own room, bought me my own stuff, enrolled me in an affluent private school, their two older sons promising they'd be nice to me and that we would all get along, and that they'd be there for me when I was sad.
My shrieking at night and troublesome attitude allowed Darren and Michelle Huang to tolerate me for a solid three years before they too reached their limits and handed me back over to Mr. Walker, who had found another family ready to adopt me in Colorado.
The Griffin family also encountered a rebellious and rude Artemis Van Kleiss, and gave up almost immediately, sending me back to Walker in barely six months.
Walker was incredibly embittered by my turbulent actions. He didn't dare put me in another family only for me to be given up again, the family complaining about my incompatibility and the long list of charges I'd create for them, the trouble I'd cause their own kids.
No, this time, Lin was taking things into his own hands.
This time, he flew me back to his home in New York, and sat me down across from me at his family dinner table, pinching the skin between his eyes.
"You should go to prison," he seethed, "Juvenile hall, where you deserve to rot away til you're allowed to leave. A kid like you - you're uncontrollable. You're a mess. Hitting other kids? Bullying the parents? Refusing to eat or sleep, running away, going rogue, destroying public property? What's going on with you? You've become a psychopath."
I shrugged, and leaned back in the chair. I crossed my arms and kicked my feet up onto the table, smiling as I watched him grow more aggravated by my behavior.
"Artemis, you're almost thirteen. I understand that losing your parents and leaving your home made you angry and bitter. You probably feel all alone in the world. That nobody cares for you, that nobody understands you, but you can't continue to act this way."
I sighed nonchalantly and turned my hand over in my lap, looking at my fingernails - acting as if I was ignoring him and didn't care. He continued talking.
"Artemis, listen to me. Look at everything you've done." He pulled out a piece of paper that read a history of all the minor crimes I had committed. Thefts at various stores in Jersey, breaking school property, tormenting and bullying other kids, harassing my foster family, running away from home in the middle of the night for weeks on end to endure homelessness. Similar items were listed for Virginia and Colorado. I tossed the piece of paper over my shoulder and crossed my arms again.
Walker's lips grew taut with anger.
"Is this what your parents would have wanted for you? For you, their only daughter, to turn out a criminal?"
"What would you know about what my parents would have wanted? They're both dead, Lin," I snapped, "All you've done for me is hand me off to random people, asking them to look after me. You don't know what they would have wanted. You don't even know me!"
Walker looked at me with cold eyes, then sighed.
"Your parents were good people, Artemis. I know that much. They were both unbelievably dedicated to their work, and to raising you. They would be incredibly disappointed to find out that their daughter is a disrespectful little punk. You need to be better than this, for their sake."
I stayed silent. His words had hit a chord in me, but I wouldn't let him see that.
He pulled out more papers from his omnipresent briefcase, this time - photos. He spread them across the table for me to see.
"Your father and I were good friends. We had met back in college, and have stayed in touch ever since, despite that we walked different paths in life. He was one of the greatest people I have ever met."
I looked at vintage photos of college aged boys hanging out and laughing, recognizing a younger version of my father in some of them, a younger version of Lin Walker always close to him, always laughing alongside him.
Walker pulled more photos, this time, photos of my parents. I recognized photos from their college graduations, them giving speeches at school, wedding photos, pictures of them at the hospital holding a crying baby, pictures of them at home laughing together and at work, mixing a chemical I recognized to be vankleissium, and working with machines, and finally, pictures of my father smiling at the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony, giving his speech, and my mother at her last press conference, in her red jacket.
Sadness pulled at my insides, and I fought back tears. My parents...
"Artemis, do you even know who your parents were?"
I looked down, not ready for this confrontation.
"Artemis, your parents changed history as we know it. There's a spot on the periodic table of elements with their name on it. With your name on it. They've built a legacy - one of the greatest ones of the century - and as their only child, you're responsible for upholding it and keeping their memory alive. Have you been doing that?"
"No," I mumbled, a tear escaping my eye and burning my cheek. He was right. I wasn't happy with what had happened in the past, but how I dealt with it wasn't very respectable.
"Like I said earlier, you're almost thirteen. It's been seven years since you lost your parents, Artemis. Seven years. And in those seven years, all you've done is get into trouble and hurt people - you've become the exact opposite of who your parents were."
His words finally cut through my facade, and I allowed myself to cry. He was right. I had broken my promise to Mama. I had let her down, had strayed away from what they were. I had forgotten...
Mr. Walker leaned over and handed me a tissue, then held my free hand.
"I'm not going to give you up to another family. You've proved too incapable of that. You cause trouble. This time, I'm taking matters into my own hands. You're going to live with us - w. But if you want to stay with us, you're going to need to behave. You're going to need to focus. You'll have change yourself, and you'll have to step closer to who you really are - a Van Kleiss, and the only Van Kleiss left in the world at that." He paused and took a deep breath, "Because if you don't, and you force us to give you up as well, there's really nobody left in the world who will take you in. I'll have to turn you over to juvey hall, and I can't disrespect your parents like that."
I nodded my head at him, silently. For the first time since I met him, Mr. Walker smiled at me. He reached into his bag yet again, and pulled out a small white box.
"I have a feeling, though, that this time - you won't lose track of yourself,"
He put the box in front of me, and I opened it, pulling away the white wrapping paper, revealing the old necklace my mother made for me when I was young. I put it back on, and smiled at him.
With that conversation, Mr. Walker had changed my life for better. His wife, Miranda, was kind and pretty, and was expecting a baby. Together, the two of them got me to clean up my act and become serious about my behavior and about my education too, something I had put off in my long fit of rebellion. Lin saw to my education and academics, and enrolled me in a tough school and arranged several extracurriculars for me - sports teams year-round, book clubs, performing arts and cooking classes, science competitions, everything. He kept me so busy that it barely gave me the chance to act out in between classes, games, whatnot. In fact, I was satisfied with the heavy workload. Miranda taught me to dress properly and maintain a strong, clean appearance no matter where I went. I was no longer going to be a little "street rat," and I was going to speak clearly in every situation. I was not someone to be trifled with, she taught me, and I would not little fickle matters get to my brain and contaminate me further. Alarms were placed on every window, every door to prevent me from trying to run away. New York City was not the kind of place you would want an adolescent girl to be roaming unattended, anyway.
I learned to finally accept them as parental figures, and entered an era of peace in my life. Their son, Nicholas, soon grew attached to me, and what with everything I was learning from them, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere, that things were looking up.
Then came high school, where I learned I was extremely competitive, and good at competing when it came to that. Studying came easy to me, and I earned the highest grades and highest honors, beating out the entire school. Lab science was where I excelled the most - studying chemistry and physics, easily carrying out otherwise difficult experiments, competing in science bowls, winning awards, soon lining up the Walker's living room shelf with too many trophies for it to hold. I also became a competitive athlete, sending my high school girl's basketball and the school's track teams to tournaments that I'd refuse to lose. The Walkers attended my every game, every tournament. They wouldn't let me down, not when I had so much going for me for once in my life. I was building a national reputation, and soon, representatives from universities would come knocking at the front door, informing me about the massive decision I was about to make, and how they were the 'right fit' for a student like myself.
Senior year came around, college acceptances began rolling in, and all I knew was that I wanted to go back to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Badly. I missed home. I missed the city I spent the first six years of my life in. Several Ivies and other nationally ranking schools offered me seats, but I had boiled it down between Harvard and MIT.
Mr. Walker and his family soon took me on a road trip back to Massachusetts, and I remember feeling so relieved to be back in my favorite city - the city that was my home, the home that I had stayed away from for so long. Red leaves littered the old sidewalks, the crisp, cold air flowing past my face, families walking around the vibrant town... In the end, I reluctantly chose MIT. Harvard was too close to home, brought back too many memories. But MIT seemed promising, with its unbeatable physics and engineering programs.
Lin, Miranda, and Little Nicky Walker all came to see me off on my first day at college, but also they brought bad news. I was eighteen, now. I was a legal adult, and Mr. Walker had fulfilled his responsibility to raise me. He was moving away to Los Angeles where his wife had received a tantalizing job offer, and I would be on my own now. I remember feeling disappointed and utterly heartbroken. Mr. Walker hugged me for the first and last time then, and told me I could always visit over breaks, though, and that if anything happened, he should be the first person I reached out to. He said goodbye to me for the last time, then turned and walked away.
Not a real father, I thought. He'll never be like Papa, before I myself turned around and went back to my dorm.
The man who had done so much for me had cut himself away from me. He had a burden and he had gotten rid of it. I would be on my own now.
My years in college were well spent. I flourished in the thriving, competitive atmosphere of MIT and graduated early. I had thought I would stay on the East Coast and work there, but Harrison Wells had changed that by inviting me to work at his lab. Besides, I promised Mama I would not reopen my parents' lab until I had brought Papa's murderer to justice, I thought, who was most likely her murderer too.
I bit the inside of my cheek at the thought of arriving in Central City...
Central City...
That was where the other child had lost his mother!, I remembered. What's more - the red speedster from the attack on Thomspon! No wonder he seemed so strangely familiar! Could it be possible that he was the same one from the night my mother had died?
No... I hoped my mind was playing tricks on me, or else that meant I was willfully walking back towards the same being that was there the night my mother had died, and possibly had a hand in killing her.
I nearly spilled my coffee on the train as I recalled something else.
Barry...
What was his last name?
Was it Allen? Was he the other boy who had lost his mother? He definitely seemed old enough, being a few years older than me. I couldn't recall him bringing up his parents, or anything else that could have alluded to an answer.
I was about to pull out my phone and look it up online, but the train suddenly stopped, causing me to look up. Outside, a sign read: "Welcome to Central City!" and was decorated with an urban skyline.
I had officially arrived, and was about to begin the next chapter of my life.
Little did I know how much would change.