During her time as a vigilante, Artemis learned that there were two types of villains: the kind that monologue endlessly about their master plan, world in their control, so on and so forth, giving away their entire hand and giving the captured victim or hero the chance to escape easily; and the kind that put a solid colored bag over your head for transportation, did not speak at all, and walked the prisoner in circles so that they would be unable to discern the maze that was the lair. Unfortunately for Artemis, Ra's was of the second school of thought.
Her feet were finally beginning to ache when the bag was quickly removed, and she had to shut her eyes against the harsh return of the light. After a few blinks, her vision returned, and she took in her new prison cell.
Surprisingly enough, the "cell" looked more like a half-suite in some middle-tier hotel chain. The room was very obviously in the upper levels, as a window shed light across the majority of the plush cream carpet. A door lead to an ensuite, and several bookshelves lined the walls. A miniature refrigerator sat next to a walnut desk in the corner.
"The Great One dearly hopes that these accommodations are to your liking, Ms. Crock. His generosity is greater than anyone would likely afford someone of your status," the Shadow to her left simultaneously lauded and sneered. "Midday meal will be served at half-past noon." Artemis did not know how she would be able to know when noon was, considering the walls were bare of any clock. "Please," the Shadow sounded almost in pain, "let us know if there is anything else you will require." His face screwed up as if the words actually tasted sour in his mouth.
"Do thank the Great One for me." Artemis walked over to the window, brushing aside the curtains to look out. There were no bars, but the sheer drop to the rocky shallows gave her pause. "And I do, in fact have a request."
The Shadow that had initially spoken to her glanced despairingly at one of the others in the transport party. "Proceed," he drawled.
"Any chance for a Jacuzzi to be installed in the near future?"
His face screwed up again. "Good day, Ms. Crock. I dearly hope I will not need to see you again." He waved a hand, and all but one of the transport party left the suite. A Shadow entered a code in a wall panel and settled in the chair situated next to the door. Artemis noted the tell-tale sound of a magnetic locking mechanism.
"Access will be granted only when the guard outside and myself enter the passcode into our respective panels," she explained dryly, a hint of an accent gracing her words. "The code changes twice daily." She sat like a statue, and silence stretched between them. Artemis hummed discontentedly and continued the thorough investigation of her rooms. After perusing the contents of the bathroom medicine cabinet for the second time (mostly muscle creams and hygiene products), she released a heavy sigh and turned to the Shadow.
Artemis leaned back against the bathroom counter, arms crossed comfortably across her chest. She stared at the motionless woman and raised an eyebrow. "So, are you here for conversational purposes, or are you going to just give a completely believable and accurate impersonation of a rock?"
"I will answer pertinent queries, but nothing more," was the stiff reply, and Artemis rolled her eyes. She perched herself at the foot of the bed – pillow-top, nicer than her one in Gotham and maybe even the one back in Palo Alto – and stared at the Shadow. She stared right back.
"How do I know when meals are if I don't know the time?"
"Midday meal will be served in forty minutes."
Artemis hummed again before rising and approaching the bookshelf. It was filled mostly with classics (she almost laughed when she read the spine for Sun Tzu's Art of War and Machiavelli's The Prince) and a few pregnancy manuals. The bottom shelf held mythology anthologies, and she pulled a Greek collection with which to snuggle into bed. Her next stop was to bend down to look inside the mini fridge, and, while she was not expecting a mini bar with complimentary dark chocolates, Artemis was disappointed to find that the only contents were bottles of water and a few assorted citrus fruit. She grabbed a lemon and straightened up, holding the fruit up to catch the Shadow's eye. "Citruses?"
"Your blood volume expands by up to fifty percent during pregnancy. You will need slightly more electrolytes to keep the extra fluid in the right chemical balance. This can be achieved by squeezing the citrus juice into your water."
"And how am I supposed to do that if I have nothing to cut with?"
"If any slicing is necessary, I do believe I shall be able to assist you." Artemis hummed in response before replacing the lemon and grabbing a water bottle. "This punishment is wrought from your own betrayal of the Great One. Do not think that you can escape this, child, and do not attempt to."
The young woman turned her steely stare on the shadow, holding her gaze firmly. "I would never put my child in danger. Know that." Her guard studied her and slowly nodded at the honesty in her voice. Artemis took her prizes and returned to the bed, bracing her back against the wall. Silently, she flipped through the anthology until she landed on Thetis and Achilles.
There is no greater danger than Ra's al Ghul, she traced her fingers over the print, and I will do what I must to remove my child from that danger. But a lay of the land is needed before anything else... an unprepared escapee is a dead escapee, Dad always said. He had his fatherly moments, I guess.
Artemis continued reading until a short, alerting beep sounded through the room. The shadow at the door rose from her seat and typed a numerical sequence – Artemis counted nine key strokes, though she did not bother trying to run the probability (she never truly understood the Counting Principle in middle school, and Wally was – had been – the math whiz between the two, anyway) – into her own panel. A second beep, this time affirming in tone, sounded, and the door opened to allow another guard into the room, carrying a tray which held, she assumed, her lunch. The guard, this one older than any in her escort party and unmasked, set the tray down on the desk and turned to face her.
"I am to wait until you have consumed your lunch and ensure that you take your necessary vitamins."
"How courteous of you. Now, what do we have here?" She looked down at the contents of the tray and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, this isn't the pecan-encrusted salmon I ordered. Let the kitchen know I am deeply disappointed." A spark of amusement lit his eyes, and the Shadow nodded.
"I will do just that, Ms. Crock. However, in the meantime, please eat your meatloaf."
Artemis plopped into the desk chair, took her fork and prodded the meal. "Yes, I had better do that before it eats me." Despite her griping, she was quite hungry, and she could hear her stomach growl. She dug into the meal, which, to her surprise, was not too hard to swallow. Once she had cleaned the plate under the guard's watchful gaze, she threw back the provided vitamins and washed them down with her already-opened water bottle. "Happy?"
"Elated. If you would excuse me," the guard gathered the now empty tray and returned to the door, where the female Shadow rose to allow him exit.
Once again, the room contained only the two women. Artemis returned to the bed and lied down. "Do you get a relief, or are you my roommate for the time being? That's a pertinent enough question, right?"
"I am your day guard," the Shadow admitted, her posture unmoving. "Another will take my place in the evening to last through the night, so you need not be alarmed should you awake to find another in my place in the morning. For your comfort, any interior guard will be female."
"I see. Thank you, that'll be all for now," Artemis murmured as she turned down the covers of her bed. "I'll be taking a nap. Growing a human being is tiring work."
"Indeed."
Artemis rolled her eyes at the Shadow and turned her back to the door. She had not lying – she was exhausted already and had every intention of sleeping. However, she had already began forming a plot to escape in her mind, and she expected to ponder on the idea until sleep took her.
She was awoken at dinner, and the same guard as before delivered her food. There was a twinkle in his eye as he placed the tray before her, and she noted an additional dish to the entrée and the ramekin containing her supplements.
"Unfortunately, I could not procure any pecans for you, Ms. Crock, but enjoy these walnuts in their stead. They are said to be quite good for pregnancy."
Gazing at the older man, she wondered at his kindness. Had she met him before? Was he this kind to all his prisoners? She eyed the touches of grey at his temples and the salt-and-pepper of the rest of his hair. Perhaps he had helped another through a pregnancy. A wife? A daughter? "Thank you," she said, sincerely touched. He smiled in return. "Can I have your name?"
"You can call me Aqil, Ms. Crock."
"Will you always bring me my meals, Aqil?"
"Yes, you can expect me every mealtime." Gesturing to the plate, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "If you would please." Artemis nodded and started in on her dinner. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to the guard. Perhaps she was not as alone here as she had originally thought.
A loud thumping and yelling sounded through her door, and, though she turned toward it, she could not make out the muffled argument through the steel. Neither Aqil or her stony friend by the entrance gave any mind to the kerfuffle, it seemed, though the former gave her a long-suffering look.
"This happens quite often as of late, I'm afraid. Children will be children, I suppose, even if they are raised in the Shadows." Artemis opened her mouth to retort that she, growing up under the Shadow's influence, had never been allowed to act out or throw tantrums, when a tell-tale beep sounded, and her guard punched in her own combination with a sigh. The doors slid open, and Artemis' eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
A young boy, around maybe four or five years old and garbed in finer clothes than anyone else in the organization, stomped into the chambers, shot a condescending glare toward Aqil and planted his small fists on his tiny hips. "And who are you?" he demanded, looking Artemis straight in the eye. Aqil heaved a sigh.
"Are you allowed to be in here? This isn't exactly a place for kids to hang out," Artemis retorted, honestly surprised the guards at her door let the little brat in. What kind of ship were they running here?
The boy's face reddened; he was obviously not used to being questioned. "I am not a kid! And I am allowed to go anywhere I want! This'll be mine, one day!"
"Is that so?" she plucked one of her treats out of the ramekin, popping it smoothly into her mouth. "What's your name, kid?"
"You will treat me with respect! It is my destiny to lead the Shadows one day, and, when I do, everyone will fear the name Damian Wayne!"
Artemis choked on her walnut.