Chapter 2

Rated M

She went to the club that night with only one intention, to kill Carmine Falcon. It would have to look like an accident, just like all the others. He was the next name on a very long list. There could never be any clues left behind, no traces that could be used to trace back to her or her employers. No matter what, it had to be the perfect murder, and that was her specialty.

Batman may have had his suspicions, and on more than one occasion confronted her about it, but deep down she could tell he was just as concerned that it might possibly be his former partner as it was her. Very rarely did Bruce Wayne look the other way, but when it regarded her or Nightwing, he did just that.

Her targets were horrible despicable men that would kill and torture without hesitation if it meant living the opulent lifestyle they so dearly loved, uncaring if it purchased by the blood and agony of others. It sent a message.

She entered the club and scoured the room. It took mere seconds to size up the crowd; men she might have to break if they got in the way, who was private security or just club personnel, who were just patrons, who were the usuals, and of course any signs that he was here or even coming. She had been to the club three times this week, and Falcone had been absent every time. She cursed the intel she had beaten out of one of his lackeys, and looked forward to coming across this snitch again and paying him back for his stupidity.

She wore a tight fitting black dress, much too short for her tastes, but enough to get the job done. She ordered a whiskey sour and sat alone at the small corner table observing, planning. She had her course of action in place, the poison dart hidden safely in her purse. Once injected into the obese prick, his heart would literally explode within six hours. By then she would be comfortably lying in her tub sipping her pinot when his chest pains would finally subside and his breathing would stop, all she needed was the fucking target to be here. Three hours later he still had not come.

Fuck! She cursed. Another night wasted, another moment lost. She had at least four sours in her by now, but that would not have impeded her abilities, not in the slightest.

The guy stared at her from across the room. She could tell he was nervous by his flirtive glances, his shy smile. His body language spoke that he wasn't a player, just a guy at a bar out for a good time. He was beautiful, they all were. She had not dated, refused her friends attempts at setting her up, but she was still a woman, she still had needs, no matter how much she tried to deny them.

He came over and introduced himself and brought her a drink after tipping the bartender for the exotic blonde's cocktail of choice. He may have told her his name, it didn't matter. They made small talk for a while, Artemis's eyes never losing sight of her surroundings. The guy seemed nice, almost genuine, a rarity among the men that usually threw themselves at her. She thought she heard him say something about a sister living nearby, that he was from a small town upstate, but she couldn't be sure, or truly care for that matter. Her mind was on autopilot and they could talk for hours without saying anything of substance.

She never knew why she said it, why she did it, but it dripped off her lips regardless of the alcohol.

"I want you," she whispered.

The sweat on his forehead and a nervous ok was all she needed to know.

She drug him into the upstairs bathroom and attacked him, crushing her lips with his. It was almost cute the way he fumbled with his wallet to produce the condom. She skillfully undid his belt and pants and pushed him down on the cold porcelain seat inside the stall. She gripped his length, stroked him a few times as he nervously stared at the beautiful blonde, not believing his fortune this evening.

She could have helped him with rolling on the condom, but his pleasure was not what this was about. She could tell he wanted foreplay, but he wouldn't get any, not from her. The condom had successfully made it's down his shaft when she kissed him, her tongue forcing its way in. He let out a satisfied groan as she turned away from him and raised up his her skirt, showcasing her magnificent derriere, decorated only with a pair of sexy white lace panties. He tried to pull them down, but she refused. She slid them over to the side and took his length and placed it skillfully just where she wanted it. She closed her eyes and lowered herself upon him as waves of pleasure shot through her body. God it felt so good.

He nervously tried to adjust, tried to match some kind of rhythm, but she would have none of it. Artemis grabbed the side of the stall for leverage and began thrusting herself upon him. He wanted to say something, possibly add the appropriate dirty talk to match the situation, but before he had the chance she turned her head and said, "Just sit back and look pretty, I'll take care of the rest."

She turned back to the stall door, her back facing him and closed her eyes, denying the tears an exit. Given the right mindset, she could imagine herself with anyone.

His reached up to cup her breasts, but she slapped them away. Her hand slid down her lace waistband and began a pattern of friction under the damp fabric when he moved forward and tried to assist her, but she snapped back, "Just be still," she coldly ordered.

Her thrusts became more frantic, more violent. He produced a long pleasurable moan, while she remained deathly silent. She could tell she might be hurting him slightly, but she didn't care. She was so close.

Her orgasm washed over her as she refused her bodies demand to scream or moan. It was still so hard not to blare out his name, to hope when she turned, green eyes would be smiling back at her.

She could tell he was getting close, but her work was done. She lifted herself off of him, with what he hoped would be a change of position, but when she stood and adjusted herself and pulled down her skirt, that's when he knew it was over.

She bent down and kissed his forehead as his moans begged for payoff, but she walked out of the stall to his pathetic whimper. He could finish by himself; god knows she'd had.

She left the club and cooled off, composing herself on the walk home. Gotham never slept, and she could walk in crowded solitude until she reached her apartment. She doubted she'd run into trouble tonight, besides stilettos and a tight party dress were not her battle outfit of choice, so she wasn't looking for a fight.

She remained in a disassociated state, unbelieving the act she had just participated in. She wasn't a one night stand kind of woman. She had a primal need for connection, and the act had just filled a void, scratched an itch, at least temporarily. Sex without feeling meant nothing to her, it was just an illusion, and she would be fucking crazy to let anyone into her heart again.

God he would be so disappointed in me she thought, closing her eyes tight momentarily to keep from crying. Days later she'd ask herself why she did it. Was it the same innocent look she saw in the man's eyes that reminded her of the teenager she fought so hard to not fall in love with, or was it another attempt at self-torture, perpetrating an act that would leave her guilty and disgusted, just to be able to feel something.

It was a year and a half later, it still hurt like yesterday.

The clouds continued their light show as the stop light allowed for the crowds to cross. She was surrounded by people, but she felt so incredibly alone, just the way she liked it. Sex had not even remotely been on the agenda this evening, killing a crime boss had. Her employer would have to hold her paycheck until her next opportunity.

She didn't work for evil criminals, frothing at the bit for the crime lord's territory; she took work from men and women who were committed to cleaning up Gotham, but were tired of the corruption and ineptitude of the legal system, the restrictions and code of the heroes that protected the city, the places they were unwilling to go, places she would.

You couldn't buy yourself out of prison if you were dead.

Her employers would not be happy, but they knew better than to cross Tigress, and she had an excellent track record of success. They would have to remain patient, the goal was worth it.

She mindlessly banged shoulders with strangers crossing from the opposite way. Momentary she caught sight of a man with piercing green eyes, and her throat just closed. Those eyes, so similar to those of her only love, clutched at her heart strings and squeezed.

God damn this night.

If she ever confided in anyone about this evening, not one of her friends would have thought it to be wrong, not in the slightest. It had been too long and she needed to put herself back out there in some form or fashion. She could almost hear Zatanna's squeal of approval and her annoying need for details, but it only made her feel worse. Wally was gone, but she knew somewhere he was watching over her.

How would he have liked what she'd done tonight? she sadly pondered.

Everyone would tell her the speedster would want her to be happy, but that happiness had been the farthest thing from it tonight. God how she wished Falcone had been there this evening.

Artemis was three blocks from home when the ceiling dropped out and the downpour began. Thunder rolled and echoed through the city, as a lightning bolt stuck somewhere near the park. Pedestrians scrambled, frantically attempting to hail cabs to get out of the storm, but Artemis labored on. Her makeup ran down her face, but she wasn't sure how much of it had to do with the rain or her tears, it didn't matter.

She reached the door and fumbled with her keys, finally opening it and making her way inside. As she turned to close the door, she caught sight of a dark figure across the street, standing in the shadows of the elms of the park.

The old brownstone complex she lived in housed several women Artemis's age, rich daddy's girls going to one of the many prestigious colleges in Gotham, or young working professional taking advantage of the excitement and social opportunities that the city provided. She had spoken to them once or twice in passing, but she intimidated them and they kept their distance, their unease fine with her. Her neighbors were known to have visitors at all hours, and this idiot hiding in the shadows was more than likely one of them.

Had Artemis been even slightly concerned, she might have felt the need for a confrontation, to determine if it was someone looking to settle a score with either her or one of the pretty-pretty princesses she was forced to share the block with, but not tonight. She was tired, wet, and ashamed. If someone made the mistake of fucking with her tonight, it would be their last.

She knew she shouldn't feel guilty, but she did anyway. She had cheated on him, cheated on a ghost. It was nearing time for another counseling session with Canary and another fruitless reminder that it was not only time for her to move on, but that it was ok too as well. Artemis could already hear her own response in her head when she would tell Dinah that she would be the one to determine when she was ready, not anyone else. She closed the door and out of habit stood in the darkened room stroking the trigger of her crossbow. She stealthily made her way to the window and glanced out, but the figure was gone. In her guilt ridden haze she began to question if here had actually been anyone there in the first place.

xxx

Dick called a few days later just to chat; his was the only call that never went to voicemail. Bludhaven was just like Gotham 20 years ago, a city with so much suffering, but so much promise. Wayne Tech had recently opened a security division there, and his civilian identity was needed to head up the off-shoot of Bruce Wayne's company. It would limit his patrolling for a time, but he needed a break, and criminals were still very aware of his presence. His absence would only increase their paranoia and build the mystique he'd crafted.

It never bothered her that Nightwing was considered a hero while she wasn't. He came from a long line of established, respected crime fighters while she was born of criminals. His affiliation with the Batman was well known, but his prior identity as Robin was not. Batman would always have a Robin no matter how many years went by, no matter how many of them would grow up, move on…or die.

The media called her a vigilante, a loose cannon. The police were told not to confront her, but to proceed with extreme caution when in her presence. If concrete proof of a crime was established, then all bets were off, but for now the woman garbed in the orange and black costume would begrudgingly be tolerated. Tigress had been seen too many times with established heroes, just another example of the delicate balance law enforcement had to keep when the League was involved.

In reality she didn't care what they thought, what anyone thought. Not Batman and Green Arrow when they give her a chance at a new life, not when she first joined the team, and definitely not after she met the arrogant judgmental speedster.

It wasn't until that day her pulled her aside and told her she had earned her place, told the closed off and insecure girl she had nothing to prove to anymore. When he laid down the olive branch that they had both been trying to do for weeks, that's when it mattered, that's when he became the only person whose opinion counted. Now she didn't have to worry about that anymore.

Dick Grayson had not coped well. Wally was more than his best friend, he was his brother. Dick was the upper class little rich boy, the orphaned circus freak, the adopted son of a powerful business magnate, protégé to the world's greatest detective. Wally was pure middle class through and through. A mid-western science prodigy and only son to two college professors growing up in a house full of love and knowledge.

Dick had everything, Wally had just enough. Dick had been physically and mentally training his entire life, Wally lived in books, absorbing knowledge like a sponge, living downstairs in his basement with his make-shift laboratory, conducting experiments people twice his age wouldn't understand. They couldn't have been more different, they were complete opposites. It would never work. Never in a million years.

They became best friends the first day they met, and neither one ever looked back.

Even through the arguments, the fights, through the stress and strains of the Reach, they both knew they would always be there for each other. They never apologized, never said they were sorry; they were best friends, best friends never had too.

Artemis coped by the hunt, stalking and punishing those that would dare hurt or abuse others, people who couldn't fight back, sharing a small fraction of her pain with those she found deserving.

Dick coped by sleeping with everything in sight. Numbing himself in as many different beds and faces as he could find. Hiding behind the thrill of the chase, trying desperately never to be alone. When he was with any number of them, just for a few hours, he could forget who he was, and what he had lost. Sex became a drug to him, a constant companion.

Dick Grayson was the definition of brave and heroic, but not when it came to losing his best friend, the only person who knew the real him, the boy behind the mask. He'd lost his parents as a child, but he was too young to completely understand grief and loss. He'd lost Jason, but in truth he was Bruce's choice, and though he loved him like family, his loss was more professional than personal, like a cousin you knew but mourned for because everyone in your family mourned did too.

His new self-destructive personal walkabout began to destroy friendships, demolishing relationships, even turning teammates against each other hoping to be his one true choice, his love. Barbara Gordon and Zatanna Zatara would barely speak to one other now because of his selfish needs. Dick and Artemis were the textbook definition of self-destructive; they could easily see it in each other, just not in themselves.

The same invitations for lunch, the same exchanges of gossip were scheduled and shared. He knew of her unique way of making a living, but knew better than to judge. There was an equal chance that someone's life may have at some point ended at his hands as well, so they avoided that line of questioning all together. They met every couple of weeks in Midtown Gotham at The Star Bagel Company for breakfast. He usually had reason to be in Gotham, and he was the only one she was ever willing to see regularly.

The gave updates, told stories, shared intel from the League's latest missions they were privy to, but always avoided the subject of the speedster as much as possible, except for tonight for some reason.

"Everyone's forgotten him," she mumbled between bites, surprising Dick with a topic they regularly avoided.

Dick sighed. "No they haven't. Life just moves on. Wally, Jason, Tula, they're always with us, even if we don't talk about them, but every time I see the old team in action, when I see Bart, I know he's somewhere up there smiling. Bart will carry on his legacy, just like one day he will for Barry."

"And you for Bruce?" she asked

"No." He said firmly. "That will be someone else's job, not mine."

Dick quickly changed the subject, "Have you spoken with Roy lately?"

"Not much, but he and Jade seem as happily miserable as ever. Lian just started walking so their whole world's turned upside down. It's so freaking surreal listening to a woman who's traveled the world doing unspeakable things, being so excited about a toddler taking her first steps."

The two sat in silence, drinking their coffee, lost in their memories.

"God what we are we doing? I didn't mean for this to be so morose, I just ...I just had a bad night and I'm feeling pretty shitty about myself."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"No. Maybe some other time." she sighed.

"Ok. Well look I'll be back Gotham sometime around the 15th for a few nights, what say we dress up like overgrown Halloween trick or treaters and kick the shit out of some bad guys?"

"I'd love too," she grinned

He stood up and embraced his old friend for as long as she's let him. "I got to run, I have a board meeting in an hour and then Bruce and I have some…business to attend to after that. I'll call you in a couple of days and compare schedules."

"Ok. Sounds great." she said.

"Artemis... No one is ever going to forget him, we won't let them, ok?"

"Ok," she said with a forced smile. "See ya."

It was sad how much lying had become second nature to them