Young Justice: The Search For Empress
Chapter I
By Eric West
Email: webmaster@kachunkX3.com
Disclaimer: I don't own any DC characters, although I hope to one day be able to write them and create some of my own. I'm just a young writer trying to hone his craft, man... :)
"She's in Wing A, miss," the frumpy little hospital receptionist said, still gazing at the radiant computer monitor. A tall blond girl, about 16 in age, stood on the other side of the counter. Her butter-colored locks were pulled back by a headband, revealing a pair of icy blue eyes that could spot a bird a mile away.
"Yes, so you've told me," the girl said with mild annoyance. "We've been through this about ten times and you still haven't answered my question. What room is Miss Fite in?" The icy eyes became narrower, as if to grab the receptionist's attention by a mere gaze. And it worked.
The dowdy hospital worker looked up from the screen and brushed her greasy red bangs from her brow. She moved her head hesitatingly towards the blonde's face, afraid that the look she was being given might actually land her in one of the wards herself. The receptionist then changed her motions, as a light bulb in her head went off like an H-bomb.
"Oh my gawsh!" the woman shrieked with deafening volume. "Y-y-you're Ciss-s-s-" The blonde recognized an opportunity.
"Cissie King-Jones, Olympic gold medallist, 'Wendy the Werewolf Stalker' star and all around expert archer," the girl butted in, flashing a cheesy fake smile worthy of any issue of "Tiger Beat." "Who would have thought Mom's publicity stunts would actually be useful," she thought to herself. The blonde beauty planned to use name recognition to get an answer.
"AAAAAH!" the receptionist shrieked again with excitement, and then promptly fell backwards onto the floor.
"...Miss?" Cissie whispered. No answer. She looked around and discovered a clear coast. Jumping over the counter, Cissie laughed to herself. "Well, fame's got me something, after all."
Within a minute Cissie had a room number and was on her way to room 9, wing A. This situation was awkward to her. She was going to see Anita Fite, the costumed heroine known as Empress. It was this girl who had been her replacement in the teen super group know as Young Justice after Cissie retired her alter ego of Arrowette. Cissie once resented Anita for filling the gap with her friends that she left. Eventually, the young archer came to like Empress. Or to tolerate her, anyway.
Recently, however, things had changed. Young Justice, along with the Titans, were involved in a battle with, of all things, a killer Superman robot. It was a battle that destroyed the groups and killed two legendary heroes. Her friends had fought murderers, malicious metahumans, magical monstrosities, and otherworldly evils, but it was a mechanical imitation that caused them to give up their hope. What was truly troubling to Cissie, though, was her friends' behavior. The robot had landed Anita in a coma. And as far as the former Arrowette knew, not one of Anita's teammates had visited her. Initially, yes, but they since had moved on. The Titans and Young Justice became one, and here was Anita in Happy Harbor General Hospital, sleeping to the rest of the world. Cassie, Wonder Girl to the general public, hadn't even phoned Cissie in a week, which troubled the teen archer. It was as if they had simply forgotten all about Young Justice...
Cissie reached wing A, and traveled down the dark, quiet hall to room 9. She started to knock on the door, but realized no one would answer. The knob turned, and Cissie entered.
Anita lay on the hospital bed, with her cascading bronze mane separating her quiet body and the starchy sheets. The hum and beep of the life support system echoed in the quiet room.
"Anita..." Cissie said to herself, as if the injured girl might hear. She sat on the chair by the bed, over which was draped a black Armani suit coat, small in size; a pair of black Bruno Magli shoes were resting in the corner of the room. Cissie paused, and then spoke softly, gazing at the IV.
"Anita," Cissie said, pausing to collect her thoughts. "I know we didn't always get along. I know I was really pretty cold to you at times. But I just want you to know..." She paused, but broke into tears and fell onto Empress' limp body. The limpness was not to last.
Anita's eyes snapped open. Her head turned sharply up to face Cissie.
"No!" Anita yelled in a shrill voice that Cissie had never heard, not even from her mother. Cissie jumped up and fell on her back. The cold, green tile did nothing to cushion her fall. Groggily, she pushed her headband up from her eyes, and looked up to the bed, sure she had just woken up from a dream. But when she looked up, Anita still sat there, her eyes reflecting impassioned fear.
Anita and Cissie stared at each other, until Anita said one word as her eyes glazed over in terror: "Fire."
There was an eruption of blue-green smoke, and Anita was gone. The life support machines flat lined, no longer connected to a body. And Cissie sat there, gazing at the sword baton that lie on the bed, surrounded by an ocean of tubes.
Chapter I
By Eric West
Email: webmaster@kachunkX3.com
Disclaimer: I don't own any DC characters, although I hope to one day be able to write them and create some of my own. I'm just a young writer trying to hone his craft, man... :)
"She's in Wing A, miss," the frumpy little hospital receptionist said, still gazing at the radiant computer monitor. A tall blond girl, about 16 in age, stood on the other side of the counter. Her butter-colored locks were pulled back by a headband, revealing a pair of icy blue eyes that could spot a bird a mile away.
"Yes, so you've told me," the girl said with mild annoyance. "We've been through this about ten times and you still haven't answered my question. What room is Miss Fite in?" The icy eyes became narrower, as if to grab the receptionist's attention by a mere gaze. And it worked.
The dowdy hospital worker looked up from the screen and brushed her greasy red bangs from her brow. She moved her head hesitatingly towards the blonde's face, afraid that the look she was being given might actually land her in one of the wards herself. The receptionist then changed her motions, as a light bulb in her head went off like an H-bomb.
"Oh my gawsh!" the woman shrieked with deafening volume. "Y-y-you're Ciss-s-s-" The blonde recognized an opportunity.
"Cissie King-Jones, Olympic gold medallist, 'Wendy the Werewolf Stalker' star and all around expert archer," the girl butted in, flashing a cheesy fake smile worthy of any issue of "Tiger Beat." "Who would have thought Mom's publicity stunts would actually be useful," she thought to herself. The blonde beauty planned to use name recognition to get an answer.
"AAAAAH!" the receptionist shrieked again with excitement, and then promptly fell backwards onto the floor.
"...Miss?" Cissie whispered. No answer. She looked around and discovered a clear coast. Jumping over the counter, Cissie laughed to herself. "Well, fame's got me something, after all."
Within a minute Cissie had a room number and was on her way to room 9, wing A. This situation was awkward to her. She was going to see Anita Fite, the costumed heroine known as Empress. It was this girl who had been her replacement in the teen super group know as Young Justice after Cissie retired her alter ego of Arrowette. Cissie once resented Anita for filling the gap with her friends that she left. Eventually, the young archer came to like Empress. Or to tolerate her, anyway.
Recently, however, things had changed. Young Justice, along with the Titans, were involved in a battle with, of all things, a killer Superman robot. It was a battle that destroyed the groups and killed two legendary heroes. Her friends had fought murderers, malicious metahumans, magical monstrosities, and otherworldly evils, but it was a mechanical imitation that caused them to give up their hope. What was truly troubling to Cissie, though, was her friends' behavior. The robot had landed Anita in a coma. And as far as the former Arrowette knew, not one of Anita's teammates had visited her. Initially, yes, but they since had moved on. The Titans and Young Justice became one, and here was Anita in Happy Harbor General Hospital, sleeping to the rest of the world. Cassie, Wonder Girl to the general public, hadn't even phoned Cissie in a week, which troubled the teen archer. It was as if they had simply forgotten all about Young Justice...
Cissie reached wing A, and traveled down the dark, quiet hall to room 9. She started to knock on the door, but realized no one would answer. The knob turned, and Cissie entered.
Anita lay on the hospital bed, with her cascading bronze mane separating her quiet body and the starchy sheets. The hum and beep of the life support system echoed in the quiet room.
"Anita..." Cissie said to herself, as if the injured girl might hear. She sat on the chair by the bed, over which was draped a black Armani suit coat, small in size; a pair of black Bruno Magli shoes were resting in the corner of the room. Cissie paused, and then spoke softly, gazing at the IV.
"Anita," Cissie said, pausing to collect her thoughts. "I know we didn't always get along. I know I was really pretty cold to you at times. But I just want you to know..." She paused, but broke into tears and fell onto Empress' limp body. The limpness was not to last.
Anita's eyes snapped open. Her head turned sharply up to face Cissie.
"No!" Anita yelled in a shrill voice that Cissie had never heard, not even from her mother. Cissie jumped up and fell on her back. The cold, green tile did nothing to cushion her fall. Groggily, she pushed her headband up from her eyes, and looked up to the bed, sure she had just woken up from a dream. But when she looked up, Anita still sat there, her eyes reflecting impassioned fear.
Anita and Cissie stared at each other, until Anita said one word as her eyes glazed over in terror: "Fire."
There was an eruption of blue-green smoke, and Anita was gone. The life support machines flat lined, no longer connected to a body. And Cissie sat there, gazing at the sword baton that lie on the bed, surrounded by an ocean of tubes.