Artemis Maia- The End Leads to a New Beginning

Chapter 1

Vision

The rumble of the electromagnetic pulses ravaged the Earth to her very core. Yosemite National Park bubbled in seas of scorching red and black. Smoldering skies casted an unforgiving gray upon the redwoods as their once mighty beings shriveled and contorted to the horrific blasts pummeling relentlessly with no escape in sight. North America was hardly discernable from the caked ash and smoke polluting the atmosphere and the ground shook with it's own unquenchable rage dividing itself.

Cracks of a hateful glowing red ripped through the northern hemisphere and the waters of the ocean flooded into the land. The ocean was a viscous vat of black churning and rolling over itself, taking everyone in it's way with no mercy, no remorse. Lands of the east were buried in plums of firey, grey ash hungrily enveloping the land beneath it. Streaks arched above the Earth, barely reaching into the outer atmosphere and spearing straight into the ground beneath. Artemis drank in the horror with her eyes, floating above the Earth, watching it burn. She then felt herself begin to get hot and start to fall to the calamity below. Gravity pulled her hard, like a shot from a sling, and a scream found itself out of her.

Artemis hit the cold hard floor, sweat pouring from her body and her satin blue sheets followed her down. Short of breath she sat up, shaking and burying her head in her hands. That's the fourth fucking night in a row I've had that dream. She gather up her sheets around her and stepped into the full moonlight at her window. The light of the moon bathed her tan skin, giving a glint to the now cold sweat upon it. Cracking open the window, the air rushed in, greeting her warmly and with it, the scents of first blossoms in spring. It flowed through her strawberry blonde hair making it swirl about her, cascading down to her hips. Her vibrant green eyes drank in the light of the moon.

"At least you're happy tonight... Or is it morning?" She spoke, addressing the moon.

With a sigh, she caught the red numbers projected above her bed with a quick glance; 0432. She casted the sheets back on the bed, still damp with her sweat. With a few light taps on the glossy black panels in the wall, they brought forth her running gear. In moments, she was out the door, her phone on her arm and the compact speaker and Bluetooth Spider Bud in her ear. With her hair up in a high pony tail centered by her sharp nose, she slipped out the door.

The sun seemed to be in no urgency to rise after she sprinted her 3rd mile. Begrudgingly after slowing to a steady jog, a shift in the shadows caught her eye to the right. Knowing all too well how the 22nd century world was, the ever present dangers still remained. The old, transplanted trees creaked a moaned with the usher from the wind, yet the birds made no sounds.

Maybe a little parkour is in order for today...

She fiercely dashed through a perfectly green yard, the moonlight barely able to cast her any light, but it was light she didn't need thanks to her mutant abilities. Using her hands, she leaped to her side over the 8 foot fence. She came to an open street and bound gracefully over the roof of a sleeping hover car. Skirting to her right, she scaled the wall of the grocery store. Pain rang from her metal tibias, but she pushed forward and leapt from the building into the broad branches of a tree ten feet away. Only the scent of nature blew through the air while she climbed down the tree a block from her home.

The sun broke new light into the sky a moment before 0600. Dawn made it's approach while Artemis did her cool down, walking back to her house. The cool sensations from her antamantium bones tickled her muscles. Her forearms did not seemed to be as bothered by the metal within them. Perhaps it was because of the manner of haste those Weyland surgeons 'installed' those bones. Would it ever feel right?

She had still yet to shake the feeling that someone was following her, or simply just watching her, despite the lack of seeing or smelling anything out of place. A sudden rustle broke her thoughts. Artemis looked over her shoulder. A shift in the shadows, a couple hundred feet away, flashed yellow eyes. She blinked, in almost disbelief and dashed towards it, her heart thumping with excitement and anticipation. Once there she searched for tracks, movement, even a scent.

After a couple moments without any other signs of someone being there, she huffed and crossed her street back to her home. The early morning sunlight bathed the little country neighborhood. She tapped her code in on the door lock and the morning patrol car glided by. Just another irritating fact of the modern day. Normal civilians still drove rubber on pavement while upper class, city officials, any uniform with a gun, or government officials had the clean burning hovers. Poverty, hunger and the homeless stilled existed, still struggled... and she was in the upper-class.

Is it better than what it was a hundred years ago? Two hundred years ago? Maybe, but the fact remained: The human race had advanced but not evolved. Well, that wasn't entirely true, there were mutants, super humans or metahumans. All in all, mutants were the lucky genetic spike that the human race needed but was shunned for so long. World War III was the time more mutants came out, saving the world from itself.

Tensions still lied between countries which was why Artemis' phone could never be off, not far from reach and why she didn't leave the country for the passed 7 years. Hot steam filled the bathroom while she shed her clothing. 7 years and all I want is some damn German village beer. The heat from the water fellt amazing on her few anamantium bones. Her regenerative abilities were not as astounding as what her grandfather's was, but without the metal forged to replace her shins and knees, she would be limping around, at best. Not to mention the upgrades the government felt so obliged to do to with her two claws that set between the radius and ulna of either arm. Those pricks even casted her knuckles in that indestructible metal. They wanted a super soldier, they paid the price. She wanted to be at 100% as she was before the incident, they did her one better.

Be careful what you wish for.

She was free, though she was always at their beck and call. Still, she had to wonder how 'free' they told her she was. Did they even know how free she could be? The water shut down as she stepped out, the fan kicked on, ushering in warm air and sucking away the moisture. It was still odd drying off this way, towel-less. She shivered, her skin prickling as the moisture was lifted away by the little air current.

"Towels? Who needs towels!" she boasted to herself in partial amusement.

Sure, it had been 40 years since she really known one to use one stepping out of the shower. Only old hotels or 'old school housing' really needed them since the technology was absent and the owners were not able to afford the commendations. Still, the habit of drying off with a towel for over 138 years made her want to reminisce and occasionally bury her nose in the fresh scent of the towel. Okay, so she did it almost every time but who could judge her? Right, the world could, and it did for those who didn't understand. What she did, did not effect them but some still take it so personally.

Some days were hard navigating through her best friend, Marie's home. Artemis stopped aging at 28, just about the same age like her father, Danken, did. Unfortunately, Marie did not stop aging, her bones would not stop breaking as her powers ravaged her very body. A short life with a long and painful death. The kind that you didn't know you were dying, just suffering day in and day out. The radiation had great effect on her best friend's immune system, and disease took hold and ate her alive. Artemis knew very few mutants or superhumans that were unaffected by the ravages of age and the radiation such as she. Could they be friends? Perhaps, but the ache of out living loved ones due to age, disease or fatal injuries brought her this strong desire to be alone.

Her grandfather still lived, hardly changing in his age, if at all really. His son, however, went MIA in WWIII. No body was found, but how can you expect to find one in a crater the size of Texas? The human race destroyed over half of it's own population for the politics, the oils, differences with religion and absolutions. No one could agree, or even compromise. One would think the world would have found peace, but bitter resentment kept humans and mutants alike divided.

With a strong inclination from the fore front of her mind, Artemis French braided her long and flowing, golden strawberry strands. It was a dense, thick braid but she knew what was about to happen. She dressed in her black active wear, the support wear she needed it at her bust. Which wasn't something she could complain about. At least they weren't too big or too small. It helped her on missions when she went undercover, catching the eye. Using her own body to gain a persuasive advantage, until she got the mark on her cheekbone. She lightly caressed the two simplistic yet significant depressions in her skin. Sometimes she could still feel his acid cover claw pushing firmly to her skin, with the precision of a surgeon and the form of a perfectionist. Keli'mauv did it twice, the first mark parallel with the ground and the second perpendicular beneath it. The recollection of watching the implosion brought out a sigh.

She slipped on a cotton lined, spandex and Kevlar enforced shirt. The dark woven material gave off an almost satin sheen as it's warm black color intermingled with the neutral black tones of the spandex and cotton blend. It was somewhat breathable and fairly comfortable. Her jeans were similar, the denim taking on a mud-brown tinge. To her it look as if they were washed in blood, left to sit and stain the material. The material was darker around the seams and the areas where more flexibility and movement was needed. She reached for her boots, hesitating briefly, her phone rang. Dropping her arm to her side she answered the call.

"General." she greeted with in her knowing voice, almost smirking.

"Greetings, Lieutenant Colonel Howlette."

She slipped on her tags while he paused.

"I'm sure you've been expecting my call all morning?" Though he spoke almost in a matter of fact tone instead of a question, knowing her answer.

She glanced up at the numbers projected on the ceiling; 0630. With a couple taps her phone deployed it's magnetic field, floating away from her and the colorful magnetic dust floated on top it. The device floated in front of her, camera lens facing and the image of a blonde haired man in dress blues formed.

"On the dot, General." the camera focused in and fed the imagery back to the General, "Tell me, what do you have?"

"Remember what we had in New Zealand 13 years ago?"

She fought down the burning heat of anger that threatened to consume her cheeks.

"I haven't had a bullet put in my head," she pushed back humbling memories, "So, yes. I remember it all."

"Howlette..." he warned, catching her joke, "I need you at here at head quarters at 0800. Sharp!"

"A nearly 3 hour trip in an hour and a half. Oh, you know how I love a challenge, General."

"Less time now, Lt. Col. Get a move on it!"

"Yes, sir!"

Before she could grasp her phone, he smirked. "And keep them damned dog tags on you at all times Maia."

She grinned, stifling a chuckle, "Yeah, yeah brother."

He turned and waved a hand, the colorful image dissipating by his command.