Chapter 3

Author's Note: M- related material ahead. Read at your own risk.

xxx

Home invasions are a scary proposition for all involved. A family is terrified for their lives when masked men appear by their bedside with a weapon pointed at their faces, or holding their children at knifepoint as they sob in fear. Too many incidents of assaults, deadly shootings, and other barbaric acts occur when men brazen enough to commit such a crime kick open that door. They have no guilt, no conscience, no fear.

Outside of the Weisman house, one of the invaders walked out the back door, loading the family's belongings into his trunk, leaving his more depraved partner inside uncaring what perverse act would follow. It didn't matter how his partner got his thrills, only that he did his job.

The family cowered in the corner, their husband and father unconscious, bleeding on the kitchen floor. He fought, he negotiated, he begged, but in the end his wife and two young daughters were left unprotected from the animals in his home.

Clyde Simmons shut his trunk and causally walked back towards the house when he felt the knife barely graze his throat. The blade nicked his Adam's apple causing a small drop of blood to trickle down the man's neck.

"I will slice your fucking head right off your shoulders if you don't do exactly what I say. You got it?"

The man nervously nodded, his body shaking in fear.

"Do you have any doubt in that pathetic fucking brain of yours that I won't kill you in a second?"

The man nodded no, believeing at any moment his assailant would do just that.

"Call your partner out here. Be calm; be believable. Tell him you need some help loading something. If you fuck this up I will shove his dagger right through you throat. Do it now," she firmly stated.

"Jimmy, give me a hand with this real quick, I don't want to drop it," he said in a calm tone speaking just inside the rear entrance for his partner to hear.

Jimmy Graves walked out gun in hand, looking back and keeping it trained on the unconscious husband, warning the women if they weren't in the exact same position when he returned, he would shoot their father in the head.

He stepped out and called for his partner, as the first arrow lodged into his right shoulder, the next two in both legs. He dropped to the ground screaming, as his partner was soon thrown to the dirt beside him.

Tigress stood over them, sabre touching the first man's neck. "You two like to hurt people, I can tell. You really get off on the power and control don't you?"

She leaned down to Jimmy and pushed one of the arrows in deeper, digging its razor tip into his muscle and tissue before savagely tearing it out. He screamed and begged for mercy. He'd change his ways, learned his lesson, was abused as a child, the typical bullshit.

"I'm going to tell you a dirty secret boys, but you have to promise me you'll keep it between us ok?" Tigress purred. "I like to hurt people too, I like to make them beg, and plead, and promise to do …whatever…I…want," she spoke alternating the sword tip on both of their crotches with each word, "but here's the difference, I only like doing it to pieces of shit like you."

She plunged the sword deep into one of their legs, piercing the bone and stood the sword straight up resting through the man's leg into the ground. The first invader bellowed in pain before Artemis shoved a rag in his mouth to muffle his cries. She beat the second man senseless, eyes, nose, mouth, ribs, all targets of her steel tipped boots. When she was finished the two men bled, their life giving liquid mixing with the others. She had already made the anonymous call to the police and heard their sirens echoing in the distance.

She slipped inside and pulled out her first aid kit, applying pressure to the father's wounds as his family rushed to his side crying, hugging and holding the man they loved. Artemis determined it was mostly superficial, and despite the pain the man was in, he would be all right.

His wife stood in front of the woman and hugged her. "Thank you," she sobbed.

Artemis uncomfortably pulled away. "They'll never hurt anyone again I promise you. Cooperate with the police, testify, and put them away. If they ever get I'll find them again. You have my word." The wife turned quickly to the den as the lights of the police cars cast a blue hue through her front door, when she turned back Tigress was gone.

xxx

Nakajima Muneyoshi, was a world famous Japanese master sword maker, most famous for the Shinogi-Zukuri style of katana and wakizashi that he personally hand crafted from the finest of rare metals. Once a year he would travel to few select cities in the U.S. for specialized weapons exhibits, to show off his latest wares and give collectors and aficionados an opportunity to purchase one his beautiful and deadly weapons. Luckily for Artemis, Gotham was on that list. She would never waste money on something as frivolous as a Kate Spade bag, but she wouldn't hesitate to drop several thousand on a finely crafted weapon.

This trip carried a twofold purpose. She had been in need of a replacement sword for some time, and an opportunity to purchase a first edition Muneyoshi was too good to pass up, but secondly she needed to shake out of her depression and melancholy that had been plaguing her for weeks.

Get your head out of your ass she demanded, and a new weapon in her arsenal would be a good first step. Sadness and regret were deadly poisons that she had no more intention of ingesting anymore.

Artemis left the subway platform and made her way street level. The city was busting with life as always, and the crowds were fierce. She was so grateful, she lived far enough from the madhouse of downtown that she didn't have to put up with this many people regularly, she just didn't have the patience.

A large group waited at the crosswalk for the mass exodus to begin. The signal changed and she trudged along with the rest of the lemmings when a strange sensation sent a chill up her spine. She momentarily paused her trek and knew she was being watched.

Frustrated pedestrians jostled past her as she glanced around, cautiously looking for the source. The sensation faded and she cursed herself for feeling so jumpy. She was more professional than that. She continued on, but kept her collapsible crossbow at the ready inside her back pack just in case. One more crosswalk and she would finally arrive at her destination.

Once again the crowd waited at the stoplight, while pedestrians from the other side of the street did the same. She looked up to see the massive shadow of the Wayne Tower blocking out the sky, almost covering the city in its protection. Artemis had not spoken to Bruce in months. When he appeared on her patrol sector one night with some hard questions, he left without answers, but in his own fucked up way he did show he cared.

Artemis finally reached Chinatown. The show was set in the Chen Exhibition Hall three blocks ahead. The smell of Chinese and other Pan Pacific delicacies enveloped her. The aroma reminded her so much of him. Wally loved Asian food; possibly being one of the deciding factors of choosing Stanford among the long list of schools he received scholarships from, no other institution of higher learning being so close to a city home to the largest Asian culture in the United States. She could easily get lost in those memories of their bi monthly visits to San Francisco. Dining, eating, exploring. She cherished them but rarely thought of them much anymore.

An elderly Asian woman in front of the archer struggled, balancing her groceries and rambunctious grandchildren as she passed Artemis going the opposite direction. A gang of teens, lost in their own world, completely oblivious to everything and everyone, bumped the old woman during the cross, sending her belongings falling to the ground. They spit out an amused "sorry" followed with laughter, and continued across non-plussed while the woman and her grandchildren scurried to recover their belongings from being crushed by the crowd.

Artemis knelt down and skillfully grabbed as much as she could while shielding the group currently doing the same. The old woman gave Artemis a thankful smile and rose gingerly to her feet and continued her trip home with children in tow, and Artemis did the same turning back briefly to make sure the elderly woman had made it across safely. Before she turned around, the archer noticed something familiar staring directly back at her from thirty yards away.

At first all she could all see was the top of someone's head as the crowd began to cross. In a small break in between rushing bodies, piercing emerald eyes locked onto hers for the briefest of seconds. Her blood went cold. "What the…."

A bus passed between them and a few seconds later and he was gone.

She was losing it. Artemis was sure this was the outcome of canceling her counseling sessions with Canary. She was doing this to herself, her refusal to move on despite the encouragement and persistence from others.

Nightwing hadn't, so why should she? the archer argued, but Dick Grayson wasn't having hallucinations either.

Artemis frantically pushed through the crowd and scoured area trying to find the man who so favored the dead speedster to no avail. She understood she had been under much stress lately and getting little to no sleep had become the norm. Wally had been on her mind so much lately, and the guilt of a one night stand had probably crept into her subconscious. As the minutes drifted away it became harder and harder for her to picture in her mind what she had seen, all accept the eyes. She had seen green eyes everywhere lately. She was starting to worry she was losing her mind.

A good way to battle insanity was to hit the streets, keep her mind sharp. The trail of Falcone had begun to grow cold. He hadn't left the country, his passports had not been used in months and her TSA and Homeland security informants were always rock solid.

She looked forward to Nightwing coming back to his old stomping grounds. There were a good team, they always had been. Of all her old friends, he was about the only she felt comfortable around now, the ex-boy wonder knowing exactly how she felt, never needing to verbalize it constantly. Even after all the time she spent with Kaldur, she still preferred Dick's company. She tired of the how are you doings? the we miss hims without the proper feeling of loss that they should. She knew her friends meant well and that was what mattered she supposed.

She was concerned with the destructive path she saw Dick on, but who in the hell was she to judge? Artemis had no problem with the rumors of beatings or violence at his hands, but the torture and guilt he carried inside worried her immensely. He was becoming more and more like Bruce every day. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his choice. Wally knew what he was doing. Why couldn't Dick see that?

He and the speedster never got the chance to spend time together again after The Reach defeat that they both needed. They promised a dinner, a night out, just some time to catch up and appreciate what they had done. Saying things had been tense between them before and during the mission was an understatement. Dick never got that one final conversation, the reminiscing of the old days, the satisfaction their sacrifice had been worth it, all he got was their mutual relieved smiles, emotional hugs, the promise for more. Get in line she thought.

xxx

Days later Dick texted his arrival date had moved back a few days and apologized. She completely understood. They had planned to go patrolling together but his cancelation worked out for her in the long run. It was freezing and she had the beginning of what appeared to be a cold coming on. Protecting innocents was no longer and obligation, but a choice. She was not a Leaguer, no longer part of Kaldur's team, no longer placed on someone's duty roster and schedule. She was solo and she planned to remain that way. Tigress had been on enough Earth saving missions, it was someone else's turn to play supercop for a while. If it was deadly important they knew she would come back as she assumed Nightwing would, but until them she preferred to be on her own.

That evening she lay on her couch, wine in hand, watching some movie she didn't recognize. She liked the actor, but could not remember his name. It didn't matter. Her neck ached, probably the first sign of the bug she feared she had picked up. Artemis leaned forward and squeezed her shoulder blades, attempting to relieve the tension. It relieved some of the tension slightly, but she would soon need to arrange a good reflexology massage from a friend of her moms who knew what points hit what systems.

She continued on with the movie, but soon lost interest, and mindlessly flipped through the channels mainly for background noise. Falling in love with Wally had been such a mistake, albeit a wonderful one. Never let anyone inside mommy said; love is for chumps and suckers who enjoy having their heart ripped out; daddy said. Her parent's relationship was built solely on their mutual admiration for their deadly skills and the thrill seeking rush of when a target, a contract took their last breath. What a great foundation for a relationship she thought. She loved her mother so much, and would be eternally grateful that she'd left the life for her and Jade, but deep down she wondered if her mom hadn't become a cripple, would that have still been her choice.

Paula Crock had softened over the years. She loved the influence Wally had on her daughter, loved the fire that existed between them, loved seeing her daughter happy, but most importantly loved that Artemis could actually love. Wally was the emotional role model the ex-assassin could never be. Love she spit, maybe her parents had been right all along.

What could go wrong? She told him repeatedly to the point it became their personal salutation, a combination of please come back to me, but just in case know how much I love you. He hated when she said it, called it bad luck, afraid one day it would come true. He was right, he was right about so many things. Artemis just always assumed shed be the one not to make it out alive, not him. She never imagined how heartbreaking it would be on the one left behind. If she had, maybe they'd still be in the cramped little apartment in Palo Alto.

She took another sip and spilled the merlot on her tight sheer shirt she wore at night. She sighed and tried to dab the stain away, but there was no chance. If she didn't get up immediately it was going to stain, but she honestly didn't have the energy. She removed her shirt and pulled the blanket over her bare body and continued flipping the channels to the news, possibly to catch a glimpse of her old friends in action. Wally had been on her mind so much lately, perhaps it was the upcoming anniversary of his death she dreaded so much. Sometimes it just didn't seem real. There should be a warm blooded redhead lying next to her, his calloused hand exploring her body, his lips gently kissing hers

She searched the channels as her hand began its involuntary decent, her mind imagining green eyes staring passionately into hers.

Five years. They were together five years. That was longer than some marriages last. From the middle of their junior year in high school, through almost the end of their final year at Stanford. He had promised her so many more. Their minds and bodies had become so in-tuned with each other, so in sync. She couldn't even enjoy an intimate moment with herself or anybody without her mind drifting to him.

Her hips jerked as her breathing became erratic. She felt the tears beginning to form, the pathetic whimpers growing in her throat. God Damn her weakness she cursed.

She was not surprised how she'd found herself in this predicament, the memories of her dead lover had dug up so many buried emotions. It had been almost a year and a half, and she hated that after all this time, she could still fall apart so easily. She was the Tigress, and love and mercy were for the weak, at least that's what she told herself. She was made of stone, unbreakable, unbending. The thoughts of love either old or knew had no place in her again. She had let the anger momentarily escape and weakness had crept in its place. She had to change that, but not until she finished what she had accidentally started.

Her eyes burned as she continued teasing her body. Guilt and sadness walked hand in hand during the times she would pleasure herself, it was something she had accepted and grown accustomed to. There was no point in denying herself, it would just agitate her the rest of the night. She remembered the device in her bedroom that would aid in this exercise and get it over with. She walked to her room and opened her chest of drawers where the intimate device lay. She grabbed the object and brought her naked body to the bed with the intent to finish this personal dance with herself and get over with.

The lights were off so she didn't feel the need to rush past the un-shaded window. She would let the vibrations do their job, and drift soundly to sleep.

She reflexively glanced out the window when a car passed by, lighting up the sidewalk and the park on the other side of the street for the briefest of moments. Suddenly she caught site of the silhouette again, standing under the trees in the shadows, now directly in front of her apartment. This was no longer a coincidence or an overly tired alarmist mind. She was being stalked.

She swiftly stepped away from the window and grabbed her jeans and the sweatshirt draped over the chair. She skipped the shoes in favor of the preloaded crossbow with the 5000 volt electric stun tip. The backup would be the titanium razor tipped arrow if things got out of hand.

She left out the back, running through the parking lot and around the stone and mortar complex. She went four blocks farther than she should so she could cross the street in darkness and sneak behind the intruder through the cover of the pitch black park behind.

Even without the shoes she was fast. When it came to stealth at this point in her career she probably surpassed Nightwing, even possibly Batman. Those were hard numbers to quantify, but she had the upmost confidence her abilities.

She saw him about twenty or so feet away. In her mind she imagined a psychopathic killer with his weapon ready to strike or a disgusting pathetic stalker with his dick in his hand trying to enjoy a show. Either one was about to pay dearly for their stupidity.

Artemis was feet away when she stepped on the smallest of branches lying on the ground. It made an almost imperceptible crack, but a sound none the less. One of the first lessons as a Shadow was to be light on your feet, to bounce, almost float, but the anger at this fucker, who had made the life changing mistake of making her his prey, had distracted her for just the shortest of seconds.

He turned and caught site of her. She had the arrow cocked and ready, electric volts popping off the tip, barely illuminating the space between them. The body type was clearly male, his face covered in shadow, but his eyes were uncloaked and visible, irises of piercing green stared through her like a laser beam.

"Who in the hell are you?" she demanded, her finger sliding up and down the trigger, seconds from firing.

Even in the darkness she could sense fear in this man's face, sadness on his dark features. A car on the distance turned, giving her a split second casting of light, drawing her eyes to the red hair and emerald ones in front of her. She took one step too many and he exploded into motion, pin-balling off trees and the stone barriers of the park. Artemis aimed her weapon, but she never had a chance. The figure was gone.

She was being stalked, stalked by a speedster, and as she listened off in the distance to the grunts and groans of pain coming from the person as he slammed around the unfamiliar terrain, she quickly assessed the man had speed, real speed, but no control, but the thing that concerned her most were the eyes, the eyes of the dead