Tempest: Chapter Fifty: Gratia Art
"You're looking pretty good for a runaway," Artemis said with a smirk before cuffing Amara's shoulder as Harley and Pamela made themselves scarce.
Amara laughed. "You say that like I haven't been eating…though there wasn't a lot to eat on the mountain…so I guess you're not wrong…"
"Mountain? Where?" Wally asked flummoxed and Amara furrowed her brow.
"Didn't Roy tell you? Or Robin?" she asked in confusion and Artemis shared a look with Wally.
"Um…no."
"Well, Cheshire told Roy—"
"Cheshire?" Artemis almost choked on her elder sister's alias. "What was he doing with Cheshire?"
Amara smirked, bringing a finger to her lips. "I can only give away so many secrets, Goddess."
Which was rich, Wally thought, seeing as she was the queen of keeping secrets.
"I've been in Russia," Amara continued, "I only just got back a bit ago."
"Russia?" the pair repeated dubiously.
"Mount Elbrus," Amara bobbed her head in agreement, "with the Priests of Perun."
It was almost amusing how they went from not knowing what she was talking about to really not knowing what she was talking about.
"They're this group of atmo-kinetic persons living in a temple on the mountain," she said, rolling her eyes for good measure. "Katya's favorite pastime was kicking my ass, but Sergei was nice enough."
Amara shrugged her shoulders. "Roy tracked me down there; Cheshire gave him a hint and Robin helped him track me down through the video-feeds of the airport in St. Petersburg."
"You told Cheshire how to find you but not me?" Wally couldn't help but be stung.
Amara's smile smoothed over and she crossed her arms. "Well, seeing as you're part of the Justice League, Wally, that's a definite no."
Wally recoiled sharply. She'd been so angry at the time that he wasn't sure if he should've taken her seriously. All Amara had wanted to do was be a part of the Justice League, just like the rest of the Team.
"I trust Cheshire and that's never been a mistake," Amara said coolly, straining not to look at Artemis as she spoke about her sister.
It was strange to think of Amara as being tight with an assassin, especially one that she had a habit of running into on the job as Storm Chaser, but Artemis couldn't quite recall a time when she'd thought that Amara hadn't been giving her all in, albeit flirting the whole time (really, would it kill those two to tone it down?).
Wally looked so lost that Artemis almost wanted to say something, but she couldn't quite think of what to say.
"We miss you," he finally blurted out and Amara blinked. "Me and Artemis, and Robin, Kaldur, Conner, and M'gann…we all miss you."
She shoulders sagged and the ice in her eyes faded. Amara reached a hand up to tangle in her hair. "I miss you guys too," she muttered before her voice regained its strength, "but I'm not coming back."
"Barry and Iris miss you," Wally added and something fiery flared in her eyes before she turned on her heel and strode away from him, taking the stairs so fast that Artemis was sure she'd manipulated the air just slightly.
"Well," Artemis said as her ex-partner disappeared, "you certainly charmed her into coming back."
"Shut up," Wally muttered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
Artemis almost retorted with a snarky reply, but Wally hadn't moved, hands still pressed against his eyes and teeth gritted so tight it looked almost painful.
"I'll go talk to her," Artemis promised, following after the grey-haired atmo-kinetic, but once she took up the stairs she realized she had no idea where Amara's room was; it was so much easier at the Allens', mostly because she'd actually been in her room over there before.
"You're looking for the attic," a voice came to her left and Artemis twisted to see Harley Quinn leaning against a doorframe.
Artemis couldn't help but swallow thickly. She'd grown up hearing about the chaos Harley Quinn had caused with the Joker, but it was hard to equate her with the woman standing before her in comfortable jeans and a loose red sweater with a black diamond pattern. The red and black dyed tips of her ponytails was the only thing that gave her away, and those colors had almost grown out.
Still, she looked a bit more motherly than Artemis would have ever thought.
"Attic?" Artemis repeated dubiously.
Harley rolled her eyes. "Well, it's more of a loft, really, but it's all hers…Amy had to stop us from going a bit overboard."
"Sounds like her," Artemis said and Harley grinned.
"Come on," she said, "I'll show you."
And she crooked her fingers towards the archer, directing her down the hall until they came to a stop at what appeared to be a trapdoor in the ceiling. Artemis arched an eyebrow as Harley pulled on the chain, barely blinking as the ladder slid to their feet.
"Petal, there's someone here to see you," Harley called up, only to be met with silence.
Artemis wondered if that was a good thing or not, but Harley gave a jerk of her head, so Artemis cautiously climbed up the stairs to peek into the attic.
She could see Amara's legs hanging off the end of the bed, but that was about as much of her friend that was visible. Amara's laptop was shut, charging on her chaise and there were string lights around the room, giving it a soft glow. There was a painting that looked an awful lot like a DNA strand mounted on the wall.
Artemis climbed the rest of the way up the steps until she was standing in the room completely.
"Wally means well," she said, "but I don't think he really understands any of this."
Amara barely acknowledged her words.
"Maybe I just wasn't cut out to be a hero," Amara muttered and Artemis sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Don't be stupid," the archer scoffed. "You were a great hero."
"Just not the kind that the Justice League would want to be seen allied with," Amara countered, rubbing at her eyes. "Let's face it, I'm too much of a wild card…they're probably relieved I'm not around."
Amara tried to convince herself that, at least. It was easier to believe that than to admit she missed the Team, and Dinah, and Barry and Iris, though she was still pissed at Barry.
"You're ridiculous," Artemis disagreed.
"I liked being in Russia, you know, no Justice League to worry about, no parents to avoid," Amara admitted and Artemis arched an eyebrow.
"Didn't want to come back?" she inquired.
Green eyes flitted to Artemis' grey ones. "There is only one other atmo-kinetic in the United States and he's rotting in a cell," Amara said blandly, "I've mostly been making this up as I go…besides, there's no one in Russia who lied to my face."
Artemis grimaced. "Still mad at your dad?"
"Still mad at yours?" Amara fired back.
"Touché," Artemis smirked as she flopped back onto the bed beside her. "Patrol's been boring without you."
"I have a loud personality," Amara pointed out.
"I've noticed." Artemis couldn't help but laugh before glancing down her form. "The dress is cute."
Amara grinned.
"I bet I know one person who would think you look cute in it," Artemis added with a smirk.
"Sure," Amara drawled out with a snort.
"I'm serious!"
Amara rolled her eyes and Artemis couldn't help but wonder why she couldn't believe that.
"Hey," Artemis said and Amara turned her head on the bed to look at her, "if you don't want to come back, don't come back, that's up to you, but Wally's kind of messed up about you disappearing…maybe you should go talk to him."
Artemis had definitely been spending way too much time with Dinah, that was the only explanation for it; she hadn't been that reasonable before she started as Green Arrow's sidekick.
Amara chewed on the inside of her cheek. "As long as he doesn't say anything about Mom."
"I can't really promise that."
Amara smiled.
Wally didn't think he'd ever really been terrified by a villain before, except maybe Zoom, Zoom really didn't like him or Uncle Barry, but Poison Ivy was terrifying.
Being in the same room as her made his skin itch and he tried not to look her completely in the eye.
It didn't help that her eyes were the exact same shape and color as Amara's. It really didn't help that Amara had inherited a lot from her mother.
Pamela arched an eyebrow, considering him. "Kid Flash, it's been awhile."
"I liked you better as a florist," Wally muttered under his breath, carefully avoiding her gaze.
"You mean you liked me better when I wasn't your cousin's mother," Pamela mentioned gently and Wally raised his head to look at her. "It's all right; you're worried about her…I'm glad she has someone like you in her life."
Wally couldn't quite explain the emotion that he was feeling well up inside him.
"You know her dad is a real dick, right?" Wally finally said and exasperation bloomed across Pamela's face.
"Yes," she said dryly, "it might have dawned upon me."
"She doesn't have a great track-record for biological parents," Wally continued, looking distinctly uncomfortable, "she's got the scars to prove it."
Pamela's lips thinned into a line. "Yes, I've seen them."
It was hard not to notice the fractal scarring on Amara's chest, even when it was mostly covered, or the scars Merlyn's arrows had left behind, proof of his malice towards the daughter of Weather Wizard.
"Mom!" Amara's voice sang and Pamela smiled as her daughter skid across the wooden floor in her socks, winding her arms around her mother's waist in order to come to a complete stop and Pamela's arm wrapped around her shoulders easily.
Wally hated how natural they were.
"Hey, baby," Pamela said easily, "done moping?"
"I wasn't moping!" Amara declared in aggravation as Artemis sidled past her, mouthing to Wally 'you're welcome'. "I was annoyed!"
"Same difference," Pamela grinned.
Amara rolled her eyes. "Can Artemis and Wally stay for dinner?"
Pamela considered their company. "Are Wally and Artemis' parents expecting them back?"
"Uh, not really," Wally rubbed the back of his head.
"Mom thinks I'm out with the Team," Artemis added.
"They're not very good liars," Amara stage-whispered to her mother and Pamela cracked a grin.
"Well, we can't all be as skilled in that regard as you are."
"It's my job to keep secrets!"
Pamela dropped a kiss to the top of her daughter's head as she tried to muffle her amusement at Amara's sulkiness.
"You're welcome to stay for dinner," she added to the pair, "Harley won't mind and we'd like the company."
She cast a significant glance towards Amara and Wally looked to her.
"I'd like you to stay," Amara added for good measure, her eyes meeting his, and Wally, who'd been so worried than he'd overstepped his bounds before, breathed a sigh of relief.
"Are we getting takeout?" Amara prodded her mother. "Because, you know, speedsters eat a lot."
Artemis laughed as Wally's stomach gave a loud growl as if on command.
"I'm a growing a boy!" he defended himself.
"I'm sure that's it." Artemis rolled her eyes. "You've been stuffing your face as long as I've known you!"
"Well –that's not very long!"
The pair devolved into bickering in a matter of seconds.
"So," Pamela said, barely blinking, "how do you feel about Chinese?"
"I'm good with Chinese," Amara said, remarkably unconcerned about the verbal spat in front of them. "I'll go tell Harley."
Pamela watched her dance away, a smile gracing her lips.
"What a surprise, Batman's taken to sneaking up on lowly thieves now?"
It was well past midnight and Masquerade was up to her usual tricks, her modulator bound around her throat as she twisted around to face him.
He was more impressive in the darkness, that much Masquerade was certain of.
"I hear you've been busy, Masquerade," he said and Masquerade rolled her eyes behind her mask.
"Robin should stop carrying tales," she said bitterly.
"Robin hasn't said a word," Batman said and Masquerade started in surprise. "Though, I suppose I should be having one with him."
Masquerade turned away, allowing herself a private smile.
She pulled herself onto the edge of the rooftop before turning back towards him. "Storm Chaser is gone, Batman, she is officially retired and I doubt she's coming back, and you can take that on good authority."
And then she jumped, a cloud forming under her shoes and shooting her up into the air.
The diamonds glittering in the stolen bracelet on her wrist in the light of the moon as Masquerade shot up to hide within the clouds.
Amara pulled off the mask when she was nowhere her identity was needed to be hidden, sitting comfortably on her cloud.
Trust Richard to keep her secrets; he was annoyingly good at it. Amara didn't know whether or not she wanted to punch him or kiss him…probably punch him, knowing her.
Amara gave a loud exhale that only she could hear. She could still remember a time when Batman had kind of scared her, even being the adoptive father of one of her best friends, but then there'd been all that chaos with her attempted kidnapping and becoming a thief for a few months (and staying a thief afterwards), and being Masquerade, training with Cheshire, it had given her a backbone she hadn't previously had.
It was days like these that Amara really missed being Storm Chaser, mostly because there was no one to vent to that was still a part of the Justice League, at least, no one that she wanted to tell.
Amara ran a hand through her hair and gave another sigh.
She hadn't set out to be a great thief or a brilliant hacker, and she definitely knew what she'd rather be spending her time doing, but that wasn't an option for her anymore.
Amara scrubbed at her eyes and pulled her phone out of her pocket, considering her options.
Barry was so tired when he came into work, but that was usual. He and Iris hadn't been on the same page since Amara had up and left and he'd had to explain to his wife the secrets he'd been keeping.
He rubbed the back of his head as he stepped into his lab, dropping his messenger bag beside his desk as he slumped into his chair only to realize that there was a blinking light on his work phone.
Barry's brow furrowed as he pressed the button on the machine.
"It's me," Amara's voice filtered through and Barry jerked in surprise, "I know you want me to come back, but I –I can't. Central City doesn't feel like home anymore."
The message cut off and Barry gritted his teeth together and regretted what he'd done more than before.
Pamela toyed with the petals of the Azalea plant that her daughter had just grown from a single seed, while Amara glowered at it.
"They just grow!" She gestured angrily at it. "You don't have this problem!"
"I've had my powers for much longer than you have," Pamela smiled before adding, "and yours are inherited."
Amara arched an eyebrow and Pamela explained. "Inherited abilities are more difficult to control…they're more subconscious, based on how you feel, like with the pheromones."
Her daughter curled a lock of hair around her finger in annoyance. "I'm working on that," she muttered. "It's very…Jedi mind tricks."
Harley snorted from the lawn chair as she read through a weapons magazine, enjoying what was probably the last of October's warmth.
"They can be highly suggestive," Pamela agreed, "but that's not all they do."
"Is that why a lot of people think you're some kind of seductress?"
Pamela winced. "Well, I've misused it in the past, I'll admit, but the only men I seduced were used as mulch."
She released a sharp intake of breath, realizing she might have overstepped her bounds. She'd never really brought up with Amara how many men she'd killed.
"Did they make good mulch?"
She started in surprise, turning to look to Amara in surprise.
"I've killed someone before," Amara said, her fingers ripping into the blades of grass, a frown marring her lips, "I didn't like it, but he came into my home and threatened me. One of my closest friends is an assassin who kills people for a living; sometimes good people kill other people."
Pamela's eyes softened and reached out to cradle Amara's cheek. "You see the best in far too many people."
"I don't," Amara disagreed, her lips twisting in vague amusement. "I don't trust enough people for that."
"Well, you see the best in me, then," Pamela corrected.
"You're my mother," Amara said, rolling her eyes for good measure, "I'm supposed to do that for you."
"I think it might be the other way around," Harley piped up and both turned towards her as the blonde slid the sunglasses down her nose to cast her blue eyes over them.
"Harley, babe," Pamela said in a voice dripping in saccharine, "Amy and I are having a moment over here."
"I'm sure you are, Red," Harley said, waving a hand in a careless manner, "I'm sure it's a huge accomplishment to realize your daughter, who routinely spends her nights with a known assassin, if underworld gossip is to be believed, actually doesn't care if you've got blood on your hands."
Pamela scowled in her direction and Amara stifled her amusement in her hands.
Grace Merrit had no idea what she was doing here, standing outside a two story abandoned shop that hadn't been touched in years despite where it was located between several shops along the street. Her girlfriend Eva interlocked her fingers with hers.
They weren't the only ones meandering outside the closed door.
Kristina Foulk, Gustavo Martinez, and Mia Eldina had joined them, and it was difficult to tell who was more surprised about the whole thing. Personally, Grace had thought that after they'd all gotten their property back and were in the midst of suing the gallery for theft that they wouldn't be seeing one another at all.
Grace opened her mouth to say something rather than make the moment a bit more awkward when the door was opened suddenly, framing a young girl with vibrant green eyes that Grace couldn't help but itch to sketch.
"Why're you all just standing around outside?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow before throwing open the door a bit more. "Come in."
Grace shared a glance with Eva, but they still followed after the girl.
"I've got a lot of names," the girl said, sitting to perch on the edge of what looked like a reception desk, swinging her legs childishly and making Grace wonder just how young she really was. "But most people call me Amy. I'm a runner for Oracle and she has an offer for you." She met the eyes of everyone gathered there.
"And what exactly is this offer?" Mia Eldina, who had hardly spoken, even when they'd been waiting for their stolen merchandise to be returned, inquired.
Amy interlocked her fingers and grinned. "You might not be aware, but Oracle is involved in a lot of abuse cases, people in abusive relationships or families that can't get away because there's nowhere for them to go, that sort of thing. She's decided to create a shelter for abused persons…and she wants it to be fronted as an art studio."
The artists in question shared surprised glances.
"Really?" Gustavo asked dubiously. "Why?"
Amy crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. "We're talking about some seriously afraid people that are worried that they're going to be dragged back to their abusers. Fronting the shelter as something else gives it anonymity…and the studio is yours completely. A place to sell your art, to work on new pieces, whatever you want. Oracle will pay for refurbishing the place and the first two months to get you on your feet…if you're interested."
Personally, it seemed a bit like Oracle had already made the decision. Still, it was actually an interesting idea.
"I'm interested," Kristina said quickly. "I think it's a great idea."
The others voiced their assent and Amy grinned.
"Good," she said, swiping her hands together, appearing inordinately pleased. "She wants you to make a list of supplies you need, since its might be a little while before the shop opens, and she wants to know a name for the shop."
Luckily, it only took about fifteen minutes of the artists and one muse before they gave her the name.
Gratia Art…it had a nice ring to it, Amy couldn't deny, so she'd left them to hammer out the details, settling her sunglasses over her eyes and stepping out into the sunlight.
Amara had always loved the rain, when she wasn't causing massive downpours, that is. And she had spent about an hour with Pamela and Harley out in the rain, dancing into puddles and splashing around, because they were all a bunch of dorks that loved the rain, but now she was here, with a box in her arms, standing outside Wayne Manor and contemplating just turning around.
But she steeled her nerves and raised a hand to press on the button by the door, shifting her weight uneasily from foot to the other, waiting for the door to be opened. It took a few moments longer than she'd been expecting, but then the door creaked open, allowing Amara to catch sight of Alfred Pennyworth, still wearing his suit, looking just a bit surprised by her standing there.
"Um, hi," Amara said awkwardly, waving a hand.
"Miss Allen—" Alfred started to say, but Amara cut him off.
"Isley, actually," she said with a wince, and Alfred didn't miss a beat.
"Miss Isley," he corrected, "what can I do for you?"
Amara held out the box to him. "This is for Richard," she said. "A thank you for saving my life a while back."
She had promised that she'd get him something for saving her from drowning, but then she'd promptly forgotten about it in all the chaos that followed.
"It's a new set of Eskrima sticks," Amara added, taking a step back to leave.
"Perhaps you'd want to give them to him yourself?" the butler offered and Amara shook her head quickly.
"Better not," she muttered. "Tell him I said hi."
And then she ran back the way she came, channeling the air under her feet to shoot herself up into the sky until she disappeared behind the clouds.
AN: The name of Gratia Art was supplied by the lovely anaranesindanarie, so a huge shootout to her.
