I'm going to show what little girls are made of
Gunpowder and lead.
-Miranda Lambert
~flashback~
-Nine Years Ago, Mountain Cabin, Upstate New York-
"Not good enough, little girl." Lawrence Crock growled. Eleven year old Artemis glared at her father, a weighted throwing knife clenched in her small hand.
"I'm already good at martial arts and archery, dad, why do I have to practice with these dumb knives?"
"Because you have to know how to fight or I won't be proud of you."
Rolling her eyes, the little girl draws her arm back, aims, and lets the knife fly, hitting a dummy less than an inch below a bullseye region over the heart.
"Better." He grunts, reaching over and tossing her ear protectors and glasses, and handing her a box.
"Now, put together this rifle in less than three minutes and make three bulls-eyes from 50 yards away in the back yard by the time I come back from making this call," Lawrence told her, pulling out his flip phone and dialing in a number.
Biting back a snarky response, she dumped the box on the nearest table and began the familiar routine of putting together her sniper rifle.
-Six years ago, Family Apartment, New York City-
"Little girl, you're starting officially in the Shadows on Tuesday. Don't disappoint me."
Fourteen year old Artemis Crock glances up from her chemistry homework, raising an eyebrow at her father. "I've been working for the Shadows since I was eleven, what do you mean I'm 'officially' starting on Tuesday?"
Lawrence drops his briefcase (filled with papers, a laptop, three guns, two smoke grenades, and a half dozen knifes) on the table.
"You're playing watch guard when we infiltrate the pentagon. The ambassador has justice league guards, but they'll be more lax when they think they're safe in there. Your job is to provide support to the main team, and tranquilize a few guards, and kill anyone that gets in the way. You'll bring your bow and a quiver full of the necessary trick arrows, your compact bow, your beretta nine millimeter and a tranquilizer gun. And of course, the usual back up knives."
Artemis Crock was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, eyes getting wider as her father spoke.
"But I thought you had to be at least sixteen to join the shadows as more than a grunt?" She reclaims.
Lawrence puts a hand on her shoulder. "I know. Welcome to the Shadows, Operative Tigress. I'm proud of you, little girl." He growls, moving down the hallway and slamming the study door closed.
Her father's approval fills her with nervous excitement and fear.
-Five years ago, Family Apartment, New York City-
"I told you to kill all witnesses, Artemis. You directly disobeyed my orders."
Standing straight and staring at the wall ahead of her, fifteen year old Artemis is dressed in all black, covered in blood and dirt and sweat, and wants nothing more to shower.
"It was a little girl, only three years old. She's not a reliable witness and I saw no need to do anything other than tranquilize her." Artemis answers, fear stirring low in her gut, but her dislike of killing innocents keeping her back ramrod straight.
"The Justice League gained a new member last month. Martian Manhunter," Her squad leader snarls at her, spitting in her face. "Do you know what he can do? He can reach into your mind and pick out thoughts and memories. Can you tell me what the Embassy will do when the find this innocent little girl?"
Artemis swallows, and the fear in her gut spirals out to encompass her arms and legs, her body minutely trembling.
"If you don't want to end up like most of your victims, you will go rectify this situation or die trying. And by that, you have an hour to deal with this problem or the Shadows will blow that building and everyone in it to kingdom come."
Artemis's fingers tremble as she grips the fabric of her sturdy catsuit, trying to keep herself from betraying her fear.
"I'm very disappointed in you, little girl, her squad leader, Lawrence Crock says, slamming the door shut behind her.
Artemis deals with the situation and is left with 24 minutes to spare, and later that night she vomits in her sink at home and tries to scrub the little girl's blood off her hands.
-Four years ago, Mountain Cabin, Upstate New York-
"Do you know why I brought you out here?"
Glancing up at her father, she tightens her grip on her backpack. Lawrence Crock barged into sixteen year old Artemis's room the night before, yelled at her to pack a bag, and drove all night to arrive at their mountain cabin, miles away from any civilization.
"It's because we needed to have a very important talk, Artemis."
He never called her by her name before.
"About your behavior at work."
This can't be good.
He stands in front of her, putting both of his hands on her shoulder. She tries not to recoil.
"You keep acting as though you have free will as an Operative. You make these decisions, to spare a life, warn an innocent, to make a painful death easy. Leaving us with your messes to clean up." Lawrence's hand moves up to Artemis's jaw, making her meet his eyes, grey meeting blue.
His thumb hits the spot below her ear where it meets her jaw, and presses into the indent.
"If you do it again, I'll put a bullet right there. You are human. Do not forget."
-Present Day-
Artemis rubs her neck, avoiding Dick's curious glance. "Yeah, it must be a human thing. Sorry."
Nothin' on this white rock but little ole me
I've got two miles 'til, he makes bail
And if I'm right we're headed straight for hell.