Chapter Text
May 2004
Artemis feels like she’s on top of the world when her father takes the needle out.
It’s a new creation of him and his friends, he had told her some nights before. She expressed interest, that girlish, innocent curiosity that would be stamped out of her before fifteen. He told her that it was only the base formula, that she would not grow “big and strong” like the other subjects eventually would. Her father chose not to tell her what she would suffer, but instead tell her what she would gain. Super-strength, even while maintaining her normal body mass. A clear head, quicker thinking. Faster speed and reflexes too.
He won’t ever tell her the fallout, how it feels to be off Venom, the pain she will experience. The feeling of wanting to jump off a cliff to feel half as good as how she feels on it. The need that other addicts know all too well of wanting to reach for something perfectly compelling and comfortable.
She’s only twelve then, doesn’t even know what the concept of addiction should be like. She’s aware that this kind of exhilaration only flows through her when she’s made her father proud, or beats her sister in sparring.
Yet, it’s different this time. As the dark purple liquid is injected into her bronze skin, Artemis practically feels the victory coursing through her veins (maybe it’s good old Dad’s lectures finally sinking in), and vows that she will do anything she can to keep this feeling. She trains with her father and mother, gleefully excelling in her self-made fitness circuit. Her mother isn’t exactly aware of their new development, her father tells her, so she’s oblivious but pleased. Artemis preens under the attention. It’s not so often that they take their eyes off of Jade’s success.
There is something to be said, however, about catching up with her sister’s prowess. Jade doesn’t exactly know about Venom, either. The sisters keep nothing from each other, but it was a gentle suggestion from her father that she didn’t really understand.
Days later, with the last of it wearing off and slipping through her fingers, she sits in the corner of her room with her arms around her knees. She should be hungry, but when she had dinner she could barely hold it down. The soreness in her muscles after their family outings is almost too much to bear. She cannot yet understand the sole dependency she is going to rely on, Venom. She just knows that her father has depended on it since meeting her mother, and that it’s never let him down. She would do anything for him. She wants to be just like her father.
Just like him.
September 2013
It’s nightfall, and a torrential downpour in Star City. Industrial building lights flicker.
Lamposts along the abandoned roads are dim, too dim for the amount of money that goes into the city. For a government that brags about its high socio-economic status, it almost seems… dead. Artemis is a little surprised; it’s nearing October, and while it truly gets torrential around this time, she loves it. She wears her usual clothes: combat boots, a tight grey long sleeve, and black cargo pants. And a hood, of course. Her constants, the fingerless gloves, thin mask over her face, and her dark green quiver stuffed with her new bows are light weight on her body.
She tries to stay warm, to no avail. It’s hard to, the measly heat of her motorcycle barely warming her fingers. She knew she should’ve integrated the new tech that her father brought in last week, but she makes it a point not to take anything from him anymore. Tensions run high in their apartment, and for once, she’s taking a leaf out of Jade’s book and leaving without telling anyone. Eventually, in the few months her quiet rebellion has begun, she’s decided to profit off it. Artemis has ventured into the vigilante market as a good way to make money and defy her father. Two of her favourite things.
The rain doesn’t stop, pounding down around the pavement that she whizzes by, the single headlight on her bike showing her the road ahead. No music plays, and she enjoys the quietness around her. Minutes pass.
She nearly misses the muffled scream behind her.
She skids to a stop, bike in brake. The engine emits a low hum, and the headlight is still on, so she turns both off. Twitching her head around, she closes her eyes firmly and tries to pinpoint where the noise was. Whoever it was has been cut off by now, and there's nothing but the sound of thunder in the distance and the pattering of water as it hits the cobblestone beneath her.
And- there it is! Not a scream this time, but a low groan. The quiet growl of an aggressor, all too familiar. It’s all Artemis needs, and she picks up her bike, shoving it against a nearby shop.
The city in this area is more sinister. There are old, dilapidated shops, one story tall that resemble garages grouped together, with slim margins in between. A couple of blocks over, the skyscrapers start. And in the distance, Queen Industries shines like a beacon in the dark. Artemis always scoffs at it, and especially the CEO, Oliver Queen. She’s never seen a more arrogant man. Her father hates him most of all.
The groaning cuts off– and isn’t that worrying, the absence of sound more than the sound itself? Artemis springs into action, instinct telling her to check two alleyways behind her parked bike. Instinct has never been something that came from Venom, rather something cultivated by her father.
As she swings into the alley, the scene before her briefly burns itself into her eyes. A man with rough features stands before a young woman with a bat in hand. If Artemis squints her eyes enough, there are big chunks of what might be jewellery on her chest, and well, isn’t that a terrible idea to be out in the dark sideroads of Star City with. This may not be Gotham, but it’s certainly not Metropolis.
She catches the last part of what the man is saying, “Over, sweetheart. No sudden moves.”
The woman on the ground cries out in pain, and Artemis can see the outline of his boot on her leg, pressing down. In her hands, she clutches a pearl necklace. That could last Artemis at least a year of food. A couple new bows and certainly the tech for arrows. She has big plans, and they are certainly not budget friendly.
“Please… I don’t want any trouble,” The woman, sounding more and more like a debutante girl, mewls softly.
“Walking around these streets? Come on, you asked for it,” As Artemis inches forward in the shadows, she catches his smirk glinting in the faint streetlight. “Necklace. Now.” He puts more weight on the girl's leg, and she screams, writhing around on the dirty ground.
Anger races up Artemis’s spine. Grabbing her bow and drawing her first arrow in one single, fluid motion, she walks slowly out of the light, faces the man head on. Not one meter away lies the girl, shivering. Upon closer inspection, she’s wearing a thick black mink coat, dripping pearl earrings and necklace, and possibly real leather boots. Her black umbrella is next to her. Artemis isn’t sure that she can stand, with how heavy the man is, especially because the girl can’t be that much younger than Artemis.
His leg is still on hers.
“She said no. So I’ll say this once– get away from her.” Artemis growls, advancing a step so that she’s maybe one leap away from his body. Wouldn’t be too hard to let her fingers go either; she feels them trembling to let go and bury an arrowhead in his mouth.
The man blanches, quickly brandishing his bat towards her instead. The girl on the floor is motionless, though she shudders with relief when he steps off of her.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Upon further inspection, he has jet black hair, bloodshot eyes, and hunched shoulders.
She lets the arrow spring free, watching vindictively as it flies towards the man and embeds his jacket into the brick wall. His bat clatters to the floor. She advances.
“Does it matter?” Artemis yawns. She studies the man with a prick of irritation.
She steps forward, watching him struggle helplessly against the single arrow. It’s not an insult to his strength: the arrowhead dove into the sweet spot of mortar, and it won’t be an easy feat to remove. He opens his mouth to start yelling, and Artemis takes that opportunity to land a punch square in his face. She can’t remember winding back, just blinks and his nose is crimson with the blood that’s slowly leaking down his face.
She looks at her fist then, not registering the dark red smears on her knuckles properly. She looks back up; he’s squirming. Scared. Frightened.
Well, her father always told her how to eradicate fear. Nothing like beating it out of a person.
She must have hit him again; his head jerks back into the brick. Another spurt of blood erupts out of his nose, and now his mouth is red, too. She places her bow carefully on her back with her clean hand, and observes the man again.
“Please, please, I’m sorry,” He begs, tears welling in his eyes, and a soft scraping sounds behind her. Artemis looks over her shoulder, only to see the woman struggling to stand.
She shoots the man a glare, before rubbing her bloody hand on his pants and turns to help the woman. “Here, put your arm around my shoulder. There you go.”
The high is fading already. She is tired, hungry, broke. Idly, she wonders how long it’ll take until the woman is afraid of her too. She has braided blond hair like Artemis. Unlike her, though, is the porcelain face. Her makeup melts away in the rain. She is shorter than Artemis, and carries herself even smaller than that. Not that she can be blamed for this, though.
The girl remains close-lipped, and she limps with Artemis’ help to the bike. She takes one look at it, and then at Artemis, eyes-wide. Artemis shrugs, “This or the hospital.”
The girl’s eyes widen infinitesimally, and points at the bike with shaking hands. Every tremble of her wrist only accentuates the pearl necklace and bracelets adorned along her arm. “Good choice,” She means it to be comforting, but with the way the girl shudders, it might have all been teeth.
As they approach it, she can tell that the seat is soaked through completely. Regretting not bringing a jacket, Artemis helps the girl onto the bike, and jumps in front of her, quickly pulling at the girl’s hands to clutch her waist. The moon hangs above them as they speed down the road towards the nearest hospital, a road too familiar to Artemis at this point. She can remember herself here so many times: carrying Jade in her arms on this street, being dumped here after a mission went badly, walking slowly with her mother. She’s reminiscing so deeply that she almost misses the girl speaking behind her.
“Thank you,” a soft murmur behind her, “I- I’m just visiting. I was trying to get home.”
“Don’t thank me,” Artemis replies gruffly, “Where do you live?”
“The apartment beside Queen Industries. Oliver Queen’s my- my uncle.”
Artemis’s heartbeat stutters, “What’s your name?”
“Genevieve Queen.”
Of course– how could she miss it? The young Queen CEO was holding a debutante ball, and had endorsed his niece. Interviews, game shows with the family, it was all over their cable network at home, most of which her father obsessed over.
On the other hand, this would mean that the girl most certainly would not miss the necklace in her hand. Oliver Queen was more than capable of purchasing her another one. She fights to hide her smile as they pull into the hospital’s back parking lot, “It’s nice to meet you, Genevieve. Here you are.”
The girl half slips-half hops off the bike. Artemis eyes her leg passively, deciding she can make her own way into the hospital, and turns off the bike. She turns to the girl, a wide smile on her face now. “Aren’t you going to tip the taxi driver?”
Genevieve freezes, mouth opening with nothing to say. Then– “Aren’t you, like, a hero or something?”
“I fail to see how this relates to our situation, Genevieve,” Artemis purrs, swinging her legs around to face the other girl. She reaches her unbloodied hand out, running it down the girl's fur coat reverently, “I am most certainly not a hero. Now, if you don’t want to end up like our friend back there,” She points her thumb the way they came, “You’ll give me a nice tip.”
It’s almost all bluff, really. But there’s a small inkling in her that knows she will be walking home with something tonight. It really wouldn’t be too difficult to grab the girl’s leg and twist some more. There would be no need, though: that was the best part of rich girls. They had the greatest saviour complex next to white men.
Genevieve presses her lips together, and rummages around in her pockets. Artemis holds back from applauding.
“Here,” she says, a note of fear in her voice, and ah, there it is, the wad of cash in her hands, “Is this enough?”
Artemis takes the money, feeling the paper under her hands, before stuffing it in her pants pocket, “Almost,” she smiles, and this time, it is purposefully with all teeth, “And that nice necklace in your hands.”
Genevieve looks down, eyebrows coming together. Her hand trembled, the pearls dangling haphazardly, “I- I can’t,” she says quickly. She limps back, “it’s my grandmother’s. I can’t give it away.”
“Funny,” Artemis slides off her bike, and takes a step towards her, hand an iron brace on the girl's wrist, “That wasn’t a request.” She lets the rest of the words fall flat, unsaid.
It is during times like these, where she demands something from those she saves, that Artemis feels like she is in the backseat of her own car. She peers through the smoky glass separating the driver’s seat from herself, and watches as the girl in the driver's seat turns around and smiles winningly at her.
“Now,” she hears herself saying, voice faltering with exhaustion at the end.
Genevieve doesn’t have a chance to protest as Artemis leans forward and rips the pearls from the girl’s hand. She cries out in protest, body lurching forward uncertainly.
Artemis waves as she rides off, leaving Genevieve behind. She takes another look at the necklace, noting the numerous pearls, and cackles into the night as she connects it around her neck. Venom sings in her blood triumphantly.
The rain persists throughout her ride, and she is nearly home when she hears rustling from the alley.
Pumping the brakes, her bike sputters in protest under the downpour. She is only one block away from her place, but she looks around suspiciously nonetheless. Upon hearing nothing, she readied her foot on the gas pedal, and—
WHOOSH
A blur of red encompasses her, and she kicks into motion, stepping on the gas, speeding away—
Well, she would’ve. Her bike doesn’t move. The sputtering stops. For the first time all night, her surroundings go completely silent, except for the pattering of the raindrops.
She stomps on the pedal again, before realizing her keys are out of the ignition. Shit. Artemis looks around warily, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, when a man in a red suit and mask appears in front of her.
Shit. Flash.
Hearing her father gripe over the hero does nothing about actually seeing him in real time. He has a lightning bolt symbol emblazoned on his chest, and a mask similar to hers. He looms over her, and though he’s grinning, it doesn’t do anything to still the fear in her heart.
If she was in a better mood, she might laugh. A lightning bolt? Bit on the nose.
“Now, what do we have here?” Flash chuckles, eyebrows raised as he wedges a foot in front of Artemis’s tire like he hadn’t snatched her keys, “I believe you have a little something that doesn’t belong to you.”
Artemis freezes. Her hands go up to clutch her pearls for reassurance, only to snap at empty air. She spots them hanging out of his closed fist.
This might be, she thinks, the worst turnaround ever.
To make things worse, she’s officially past her dosage time by— she checks her watch quickly, to the chuckle of Flash— 3 hours. It’s 3:23 am. She can feel the prickles of withdrawal clawing at her waist, and makes a split second decision.
She leaps backwards, draws one of her new arrows, and shoots at Flash’s feet before sprinting into the nearest alleyway. She knows this area like the back of her hand, at least.
It emits a cloud of smoke, a diversion that she’s practiced a thousand times. It certainly won’t linger in the rain, or help the fact that running away from a speedster is the stupidest thing she can think of. Her plan is to distract him, though, and it seems to work. She isn’t followed instantly, which she counts as a win.
Wheezing with effort, she starts climbing the trellis beside her which leads to a window about halfway up the apartment building that she’s next to. The window leads to an apartment that’s empty, last checked. She has done this before. She has a chance here.
Artemis is halfway up the trellis when an arrow with green fletching lands beside her foot.
She squeezes her eyes shut in frustration, before holding her hands up and jumping down in frustration. “Okay, you guys got me. I surrender.” She bends her knees slightly before landing, aiming an angry kick at the ground. The mice nearby scatter. Great. Tiny mammals seem to be the only thing that are remotely afraid of her.
Artemis honestly doesn’t know what’s worse. Getting caught after being so close to escape, or getting caught by the Walmart version of Robin Hood. She grits her teeth, feeling the pinpricks of anger dance across her skin again. Her fingers begin scratching at her wrists, a bad habit that has only gotten worse as the years have passed, as the amount of empty prescription bottles underneath her bed grow in number. She longs to scrub at her skin in the privacy of her shower. This feeling of being hunted doesn’t make it any better.
As if cued, Green Arrow himself steps into the alleyway, Flash sauntering behind him. They approach Artemis like she’s a cornered puppy, and to be honest, she’s nearing it. If there was any point, she’d throw down an explosive arrow and book it, but to be honest, she can barely breathe as it is. She won’t make it very far. And she suspects that Flash won’t let her get away like he did last time.
“What’s your name?” The hooded man calls, walking closer as he speaks. Artemis stiffens in surprise, and stays quiet. They can beat that information out of her. She’d much prefer that.
Green Arrow doesn’t look very shocked. Sighing resignedly, he leans against the brick wall opposite Artemis and crosses his arms. Flash mimics him. “Okay, Jane Doe.” She will not comment on the bristle of annoyance that shoots up her spine, “Want to share with the class what you’re doing, every night?”
Artemis is honestly surprised it took him this long to realize. She’s been at this for what, three weeks? A little longer? “Why should I do your job for you?” Her voice comes out at a higher pitch than intended, and she clears it before trying again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have more important things to do.”
She steps towards the end of the alleyway, really just a test, and is not surprised when there’s a blur of red and Flash is standing in front of her, arms crossed, one of his feet tapping. Her face comes directly up to his obnoxious lightning bolt, and she breathes in deeply to control her annoyance. He leans down a little, peering at her, eye to eye.
“Really?” Green Arrow asks again. Artemis can hear him get up from the brick wall and cross the alleyway, coming to stand behind her. She doesn’t bother turning around, only rolls her eyes at the next part, “It’s nearly 4 am. I can’t imagine what a young lady like you would possibly have to do at such a late hour.”
The jig is up, and Artemis is sick of pretending. “Give me back my necklace. Finders keepers.”
“Oh, you found it?” Flash says, holding back a laugh, “Because I could’ve sworn I saw you practically wrench it out of another person’s hands. I don’t think that rule applies here.”
Artemis’s lips press together, and before she prepares to lunge at Flash (unintelligently), she feels just the slight wave of dizziness. Unfortunately, she’s been through this enough times to know that it’s about time for her to pass out. Usually she’d be safe by now, but this is one of those extenuating circumstances her father trained her for.
Getting beat, blindfolded and tied, and dumped in a faraway neighbourhood at 2 am, to be exact. Exactly an hour before withdrawals started hitting. This scenario is much, much better.
Her brows furrow, and she changes her tone slightly to sound tired and sad. It’s really not that difficult. She slouches, and almost sways into Flash, “I’m sorry. I just needed money for food. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
Green Arrow and Flash look at each other for a brief moment, exchanging words that no one else can understand, before Green Arrow curses and starts running in the opposite direction. Artemis hears him swear before the explosion hits:it’s the loudest sound she’s ever heard, and the wave of heat that hits her. If it’s this hot, the fire can’t be that far away. She peers around Flash’s shoulder, hearing the voices on his comm babble on in panic, and sees the plume of smoke rising near the Queen Industries skyscraper.
Flash nods, then realizing that whoever’s on the comm can’t see him says, “Yes, got it. Arrow and I will be at the rendezvous spot in a minute.”
He grabs Artemis’ shoulder, and she fights every instinct not to throw him on the ground, before saying, “This is your final warning. We will be watching. There will be consequences.” He sounds more serious than ever.
She resists the urge to laugh as she mocks him, “Yes, sir.” He throws her keys up with a sigh, and she cranes her head to catch them.
By the time she looks down, he’s gone in a flash, (no pun intended), and when Artemis turns around, she can no longer see Green Arrow’s silhouette running along the pavement. They’ve both disappeared, and it's nearly 4:30 in the morning, sun peeking out from the ground even though the smoke is doing its best to cover it. The rain’s stopped now. She crosses the street, clambering up the fire escape doggedly.
Artemis nearly passes out as soon as she hits her bed; staying awake to peel off her wet suit and mask takes up most of her energy. She barely covers herself with her blanket, fingerless gloves wrapped around the cash that she saved, and she’s out like a light.
Exhausting, terrible night.
December 2008
The police sirens outside of her home wake her up in the early dawn.
Things are beginning to fall apart.
It’s her mother’s first birthday without them, and the memory of her stings evermore in the cold, stifling environment. Artemis rolls out of bed weakly, abs burning, gingerly massaging her wrists. Her father’s training did not end well last night. He will most likely repeat it tonight. She tries to will away the thoughts of his hand, threateningly raised above her. It’s an unsuccessful attempt.
She peers outside of the grimy windows, covered by shuttered blinds, pushing them to the side. No snow has fallen, yet the shine of ice catches her eye on the streets below. She can almost predict the numerous accidents that will occur on her walk to school.
No space for dwelling here; it’s time to get ready.
Bare feet on the frigid flooring, she quietly walks through the condo that her parents have owned forever, hearing the soft breathing of her sister behind her. She quickly and quietly prepares herself for her day, washing her face and scrubbing at her cheeks until her olive skin is a muted pink. As Artemis turns the tap open, she watches the faucet spit out sludge that couldn’t be classified as water if it tried, and slowly filter it out until something comes out that’s close enough for her. She brushes her teeth, cringing at the mint taste, and almost gagging on the muddy taste of the pseudo-water.
She goes back into her room, and surveys the emptiness of it with a tired regard. Jade sleeps on her stomach next to Artemis, beds pushed together on the side of the room. On the other side is a single dresser with an empty picture frame atop it. Next to the beds is one nightstand.
There is no personalization, no indication that two teenage girls live here. There are no posters of boybands, no paraphernalia littering the floors. It’s simply devoid of any personality. She crosses the room quickly, pulling out the same hoodie and jeans she wears almost every day.
In the kitchen, she doesn’t bother looking for food in the wooden, worn down cupboards. She does take a peek at the desk near the door, though. There are two small bottles left, both holding a lavendar, bubbly liquid in them. Venom is more common than dinner. When her father returns to pick up the next month’s amount, hopefully he’ll bring home something to eat. Until then, it’s Artemis and her sister fending for themselves.
Sparing one last glance at Jade, Artemis sighs as she puts her fur-hooded jacket on. She ties up the laces of her boots, stomach grumbling.
Her sister dropped out of their school last year. She doesn’t know why she bothers to stay.
It’s a long, cold, walk to school.
Hike may be the more appropriate term. It’s like she’s walking in a snowglobe that’s just been shaken violently, and she passes by construction site after construction site that must be paused because of the blitzing hail around her. The black ice beneath her whispers its intentions every time she slips, her old sneakers not gaining enough traction. There is still a half an hour's way to go.
She sticks her hands in her pockets, head down, hair covering her ears. Bundling into her jacket won’t make her feel warmer, but she can sure as hell pretend.
By the time she reaches her high school, the tip of her nose is completely numb and so are her fingers. She cups her hands and breathes into them, rubbing her face and hands. Inside school is as gloomy as the outside environment is. Artemis slips into her first class, sitting down before the bell can ring. She’s still bundled in her layers, but has no choice to take off her jacket as she feels the school’s heat kick in.
Her teacher hands her back a slip of paper that is folded in half, sending her a disappointed look among the quiet murmurings of her classmates.
Artemis unwraps it, dreading the contents but also not surprised. In the corner of the wrinkled paper is a large F encircled in red. Below is a message asking her to stay after class. It makes sense. Jade had to nurse her wounds the night before because of her father’s unexpected aggression during their drills, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s also never taken a stock in her education like her mother and sister have.
She ends up staying, finding it disrespectful to flee the scene even though she dreads the coming conversation. Her teacher tells her with no apparent sympathy that she needs to figure out a quiet place to study to do well in the class. Apparently, he says, he’s asked some of her other teachers. She’s got similar marks in their classes as well. You can do better, he smiles at her facetiously, you’re so young, don’t let yourself slip just now. She nods and lets his words go in one ear and out the other. She will not be returning here tomorrow, she decides.
Artemis sits in the cafeteria, looking longingly at the menu. It’s just a tad bit too expensive for the pocket change she found in the jacket, but they’re selling spring rolls. One of her favourites. Speaking of, she hasn’t had good pho in forever. She’ll have to ask Jade for some, and provide the money for the ingredients. Her sister works the graveyard shift for a security gig, in a way denouncing their father’s training. Instead, she’s been taking up with Lady Shiva, one of Mother’s old friends.
Lawrence Crock’s response to that wasn’t so good. However, after he broke enough glasses, he viewed Jade with a distant, dispassionate eye. After all, one daughter is enough. Even though Artemis wasn’t the son he wanted, she was certainly more obedient than Jade.
School is very well the last thing she has left to get out of the house. Artemis thinks about it, thinks of the money she has to pay to stay in this barely heated building. It’s not much, given it’s public school status, but her father refuses to pay. Her mother is gone. She learned the lesson of hoping that they would show up for her last year, when the office called her in, wondering where her tuition was.
Earning the measly five hundred dollars taught her much. How to rob, who to rob from, where to pick valuables up off the street and people. Artemis Crock has worn many hats. Pickpocketer, burglar, criminal. Child.
She returns home, skies overcast. She slips on the ice on the way home, falling on her elbows and butt. Both burn, and she can predict the bruise placement. The sad thing is that after tonight, these bruises will be the least of her worries. There will undoubtedly be more to add to them. Artemis’s stomach growls in anger as she walks up the stairs with a bone-deep exhaustion all too familiar.
The soft creak of the door betrays her quiet entrance into her home, and her heart drops as shes takes in who’s sitting in her living room. Sportsmaster and Ratcatcher lounge on the dilapidated sofas that are arranged in the small space. Their legs are kicked up on the cracked coffee table, and Artemis’s father has a look of disgust on his face as he sits next to the dilapidated villain. Flannegan wears dirty overalls and work boots, and is swarming with rats. If Artemis had not grown up around him, she would have thrown up on the spot. Even now, she feels a little sick. His goggles are atop his head, and a stray rat is currently sitting on one of the lenses. Wonderful.
“Artemis!” Lawrence crows, and now Artemis sees why he would even bother to invite the rat man back to their home. He’s brought food: bags upon bags of fast food brands litter the floor near their feet. Fat and happy Lawrence Crock is the best to be around, but if Ratcatcher is here, it can’t be good.
“Hello father,” She murmurs back, longing to flee their apartment, but it’s too late now. Her father will only berate her manners later, punish her, keep her up for longer. Artemis just wants to sleep the hunger away.
“Hello, young lady.” The slimy voice of the other man has Artemis shivering, and before her father can scream at her, she replies in kind before escaping into her room. Jade is gone. Of course she is. Closing the door as quietly as she can, the teenager exhales forcefully, planting a hand on her stomach like shoving it inwards will make the hunger go away. She drops her backpack, takes her shoes off, and lays on her bed, covers beneath her.
As is usual, her father’s face invades her mind.
His short-cropped blonde hair reminds her of men in the military. Her father almost enlisted. It was a bad football injury, when he was in high school, that propelled him to apply. He used to tell her anecdotes like those all the time when she was younger, playing in his lap as her mother looked on fondly. He didn’t tell her the reason why he didn’t join up though, the story always ending by meeting her mother and starting a family. No, her sister told her one night, shaking after a particularly bad night with the man drunken and enraged. He wasn’t fit for it psychologically, Jade whispered to her, holding her tightly, he didn’t pass the psychiatric test. Madness runs rampant in our genes, Art, don’t you know?
Artemis still doesn’t know how her sister got that information. Jade is a skilled informer and executioner for the League of Shadows now, at their father’s demand. Even back then, she was being slowly indoctrinated into the League, and the girls were sharing their father’s lessons.
Artemis is robbed of her thoughts as her door is kicked open. She jolts into a sitting position, hands on her lap, head down. “No need to be scared, daughter,” Her father’s voice croons at her. “It’s time for training.”
She wants to scream at him. It’s not even nightfall yet, she’s still in pain from the day before, but deep down she knows why it’s happening so early today.
Her father only comes for the Venom. It’s her last day before the effects start to get to her, and he times it perfectly. It’s always the worst on these kinds of days. Everyone else in the world is living normally on a Wednesday afternoon, but Artemis dreads them.
“Get up.” His voice is rough and harsh, and she does as he commands, wordlessly retrieving her bow and arrow before his hand lands on her shoulder. She tries hard not to flinch. That just makes it worse. “You won’t need those. Not where we’re going. Let’s go.” He doesn’t move his hand, and drags her towards the door. Her body ricochets off the doorframe as she slams into it, heels dragging on the floor, and he doesn’t stop for one second as they pass the Ratman and leave the apartment.
She’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt. She always does.
Artemis’s skin is roaring like an angry inferno. She’s strung out, feeling the Venom slip away faster and faster. Darkness greets her as she blinks open her eyes, and she tries to sit up before realizing that she can’t move her body nor her arms– a quick shake tells her that her hands are in metallic cuffs. She can crane her neck at most, and feels the blindfold tied tightly around her skull. It chafes against her nose, and a quiet whimper emits from her lips as the pain begins to set in.
She whips her left thumb to an uncomfortable angle, the action second nature to her. By now, she knows to expect the dull pain, but without the Venom shielding her, it stings more than expected. Still, it’s not as bad as other injuries, and so her thumb goes limp against her hand and she slips it out, biting her tongue to attempt to dull the pain. After a bit of manoeuvring, her left hand scrapes against the cuffs, but emerges on the other end. She quickly rips the blindfold off.
Artemis is in the middle of a dilapidated graveyard, it seems. Cobblestone pathways and headstones surround her, interrupted by yellowing grass. It’s pitch black outside, the flickering streetlights her only pathfinder.
There is also a ring of rats surrounding her. Their black, beady eyes blink at her. She holds back bile.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take very long for her to stand up, still woozy, and find the note that her father has left her near the rats. Withdrawal crawls up her arms, feeling like electrocution each step she takes, and she picks the paper up with a tight jaw.
‘Meet me at the gym’, it reads. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have to wrack her brain for long before figuring out what he’s talking about: Starlife, the gym he used to train at when he was still a budding Olympian, is about a thirty minute walk from her house, and she knows that at the very least, she isn’t far from home. Artemis looks up, and thanks her lucky stars that her father is impatient enough to dump her less than an hour walk away.
She breaks into a run towards the gym, massaging her limp thumb, and the rats follow.
Eventually, after the houses become a blur and the grass gets more healthy, Artemis makes it to Starlife. It’s closed, probably because it’s after midnight, but she knows better. She quickly picks the lock, sneaks around the cameras, and enters the gym.
Her father is waiting, two knives in hand, and a bored expression on his face. “Took you long enough,” he says, “This will teach you to be on time.”
Hours later, she collapses on the floor next to her bed with a heavy heart and a broken body. Venom is already beginning to knit back her broken arm, already beginning to soothe her bruises, the cuts along her back.
She chose a bow and arrow today. It is a fine instrument. It is also something her father has hated forever. That is not accidental.
“You okay, Art?” Jade whispers. She’s home today, and she’s slowly getting out of her bed to crouch next to Artemis.
“I’m fine,” she responds, tears rolling down her cheeks, “You can go back to bed.”
December 2011
Artemis could only watch.
Tears ran down her cheeks. She was stunned at this– all of it. Her sister’s cruelty, her mother’s coldness. Her father’s absence was not shocking. Their living room was dimly lit: a thick layer of dust laying on their furniture. It was long past time pretending that their small house was lived in. Paula sat hunched in her wheelchair, Jade standing by the door with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, “You’re really going, huh? Not even a night under the same roof?”
“Four years, Mom. I stopped waiting after the first. You don’t get a welcome party.” Jade’s voice was hard, body slightly trembling.
“I didn’t ask for one. I just… I thought maybe you'd still need me.”
“Need you?” Jade laughed harshly, “I raised Artemis while dodging bounty hunters and cleaning up Dad’s mess. I became what you were too busy being locked up to teach me.”
Their mother’s voice cracked. “I didn’t want this for you, Ngân, you have to believe me.”
Artemis had never seen her mother cry. She wondered if this would be the first time.
“But you did. You and Dad made a legacy for yourselves and left me to take care of the fallout. I didn’t choose this. I inherited it.” Now her sister paced back in front of her, and Artemis did all that she could not to reach out to her. To beg that she take her too, away from her childhood nightmares. But Artemis knew better; thinking of all those nights with Jade curled around her when two blankets wasn’t enough to fight the blistering cold nights in Star City. All of the nights when she’d murmur her escape plans when she thought her younger sister was asleep, “Now, it’s my turn to make my own legacy. I would’ve thought you would understand that.”
Paula’s shoulders sank. “I do, Jade, but I just want you to stay with me.”
“I remember the door shattering as the League kicked it in. I remember Dad leaving us, running out of your bedroom window. I had to hide Artemis under our bed, cover her mouth to make her stop screaming. Do not play this game,” Jade sniffled. There was venom in her voice even through her sorrow. Artemis felt hot tears pooling in her own eyes at the recollection of that night.
Her mother recoiled. “I– I’m sorry.”
Her daughter smiled stiffly. “It’s too late. I’m not staying in this graveyard. I’ve got my own empire to build. And it won’t be built on your ashes, mother.”
That was Jade’s special power, to use her words to cut, yet speak as calmly as anything else. Artemis was not the same- her rage was tangible. She was a whispering bomb. Anything could set her off. Their parents’ affiliates had pointed it out for all those years… Those girls are inseparable. Same skin, same eyes, but oh, the temper on that one…
Jade wasn’t the only one who left that night. Her mother did, too. They did not return.
October 2013
Artemis has known for a while now, that her dosage of Venom lasts her a solid week, even longer if she’s not very active. She knows, too, that drugs are not the best way for her to gain strength.
She will stop, she tells herself. She just needs it for another week, that’s all.
It’s been 18 weeks since the mantra has begun.
And the contrast is vivid. On Venom, she’s calm, controlled, at the top of her game. When she goes through withdrawals if she misses a dose, or she forgets to go to her father’s warehouse to pick up both of their prescriptions, Artemis is falling non-stop. Irritated for seemingly no reason. Can’t sleep, can’t eat— it’s unhealthy.
In her darkest spirals, Artemis thinks of Genevieve’s face contorted in horror as she pries the pearls from her gloved hand. She thinks of the man that she pinned and left for dead. She thinks of her mother, rotting in Belle Reve, paralyzed for years. She thinks of her sister abandoning her, her father coming home for money and food and leaving again. And when he stays for more than a night, how it always ends up in her laying on the kitchen floor, blood dripping from her body.
She thinks of her small house, living room haunted with memories of their family together when they were younger and more innocent. Her kitchen, haunted with the ghosts of her mother teaching Artemis how to cook Vietnamese staples.
It whirs in her mind, won’t stop won’t stop won’t stop won’t stop.
She will stop soon.
It’s Saturday again, a week after her tumultuous patrol. The money she got from Genevieve has almost been used up: the rent for the apartment increased, her father hasn’t been home since Tuesday, and he practically took all of their food storage with him. Artemis doesn’t bother asking after his plans anymore. He either ignores her, or spits insults at her for her evening activities. She doesn't know which one is worse. She misses Jade in these moments more than ever, and while she can understand exactly why the older girl left, she will never forgive her for it.
Feeling the familiar irritation prickle on her skin, Artemis slaps her cheeks roughly to wake up. It’s only 10 pm, meaning she can squeeze about 5 hours of scavenging in before she really needs to retire for the night. She hasn’t taken anything since the Sunday before, so when this dose wears off, she needs to be taking another one quickly.
If she can get easy money before those 5 hours, well, even better. This wasn’t her first option: She’d tried to make money the legal way. There was little to no employment in Star City before Queen returned, and she went through three positions before she’d had it. Waitressing was a bust: Venom withdrawals and customers who treated her like the gum under their shoes was a bad mix. Being a cashier at her local grocer was working well until her father needed money from her, and the solution was inside the cashier’s box. Babysitting didn’t last long when she had to leave halfway through her shift for training. So, she turned to vigilantism.
That damn pearl necklace would’ve been her ticket out of Star City. She sighs, before suiting up and leaving quietly out of the back door with a whispered goodbye to the room where her mother used to sleep.
It’s an absolute and complete bust. She’s been out for what, two hours now? It’s not only wet, but cold too. She’s miserable. And she feels the anger climbing up her spine.
She decided to stay in the neighbourhood today. She’s stopped maybe one mugging; and it’s just her luck honestly, since the boy didn’t have his wallet anyway.
Artemis doesn’t see a profit tonight, not the way that it’s going right now. She clenches her jaw in annoyance, and starts driving towards Queen Industries to let loose.
She doesn’t know when she started, but one of Artemis’ favourite pastimes when blowing off some steam is to grab a couple of spray cans, and graffiti the shit out of the Queen Industries glass walls. She’s glad she brought them with her now, stuck in the knapsack that’s at the bottom of her bike. She rips through the city, crossing the blocks between her and the skyscraper. As she grows near, a certain kind of vindictiveness comes over her, something familiar. An old friend.
Artemis parks her bike across the street, tucked in a dark corner in a side street, and moves quickly. Grabbing her cans, mask, and gloves, she runs across the road, meeting the back wall of the skyscraper. Though glass like the others, it’s not as visible to the main street. That’s fine. She doesn’t need to make an impression, just let go a little.
Looking around first, it’s obvious that there’s no one around. Artemis crawls around the camera view, a habit now, squats, and begins her design under the dim light of the streetlamp.
As the young vigilante curls up into herself and uses her signature colours, an ochre and forest green, the spraying of her paint cans sufficiently distract her from the faint rustling in the background. In fact, The Crabjoys blasting in her wired earbuds completely overpower the rustling of leaves behind her. Something approaches her, but no one makes a move to interact with her. Not yet.
Artemis hums along, roughly nodding her head in beat with the music. She has abandoned her position for sitting on the ground, leaning towards the wall. The cargo pants do not help with the cushioning; she makes a note to line them with soft fabrics next time she's around Star Fabrics. Thanks to her sister urging her to become independent, the two girls have an affinity for sewing their own suits, and creating their own tech. Although, Artemis muses, it’s not going that well. The smoke arrow last week was nothing more than pure luck; in the past year she’s fired arrow after arrow that have emitted small squeals before leaking smoke as they hit the ground instead of exploding, or some that emit their specific response still in her quiver. She still has nightmares, sometimes, about the time six months or so when she jumped three storeys, landed, and was promptly knocked across the road by the explosion propulsion.
But, oh well, everyone’s learning. She firmly ignores Jade’s voice taunting her in her mind, stupid, soft, selfish little sister. Sometimes she hallucinates Jade’s face when she’s alone at night, body jerking from withdrawals. She’ll never admit that out loud.
An hour goes past. She stretches, back cracking from her hunched position, checking her watch. One in the morning. She packs up her kit, stuffs it in the knapsack, and throws a last look at her masterpiece before trudging off.
She wanted to tag all 40 stories of Queen Industries, but that would involve a complicated plot with the security, who are irritatingly well-paid and unsusceptible to bribes. Lucky for her, the guards must’ve been sleeping on the job because they haven’t checked the far wall where she is. Usually, one person would be on the lookout, but Artemis doesn’t exactly have a partner in crime anymore. She remembers the days when Jade and her would jump around the city getting in trouble. Those days are long gone now.
Her art is reminiscent of that. It’s a dark green cheshire cat, a yellow smile standing out and practically glowing under the moon. Her sister’s favourite. The cat isn’t small; it takes up the entire side. The claws had taken her the longest, causing her to sit for at least ten minutes.
Artemis is proud. She turns to leave, and is met with two silhouettes lounging by the gardens next to the building. They lean against the quiet fountain behind them, faces dark. One wears a hood, and the other has curly hair. Her heart skips a beat, and she slowly takes an earbud out, stuffing the wire in her shirt.
Her delusions that they weren’t here for her evaporate as the hooded one tilts his head and waves at her slowly.
They’re definitely here for her.
She grabs hold of two of her cans, dropping the rest of the knapsack. Shit. This is such bad timing. Her eyes aren’t as alert as they usually would be, which means she’s not far from withdrawals. And something tells her that she won’t get as lucky as she did last week.
Stepping back slowly, the other two match her movement and draw close. As the light bathes their face, Artemis can clearly identify both. The hooded one, well, she already knew. The woman wearing black fishnets is more of a threat. Black Canary.
This really could not get worse.
They remain silent, which is unusual because Green Arrow loves the sound of his own voice. He certainly spoke enough during their last encounter. For Black Canary, though, this is just slightly comforting. Artemis knows she can’t stand a chance against the sonar boom. She’s seen her father return from missions with a pinched expression and blood leaking out of his ears, and not come out of his room for days. It’s not something to take lightly. Anyways, as she slowly looks around, they’re in between her and her bike. She needs to hide somewhere: no one can outrun arrows. The geography around her is all flatlands except the garden. Artemis remembers the hedge maze somewhere in them; Oliver Queen takes his landscaping seriously, it seems. She mutters a quick prayer and starts backing up again.
She’s suddenly acutely aware of the two aerosol cans in her hands. Artemis turns around, then, and starts sprinting to the nearest hedge-trimmed arch, bolting straight down the aisle. She loses a can from her grasp and it rolls near the entrance, but it’s too late to go back. From here, she can only hear her own heavy breathing and heavy footfalls, and see the path diverge into two sides beside a beautiful fountain. The right side would take her back to where she came, in a long loop, right to her bike. Unfortunately, one of them has probably popped the tires by now. It’s what she would do. The left side is her best bet, a gargantuan maze. She doubts two heroes know how to navigate it. She can’t either, but that’s beside the point.
Artemis turns, half tilt, running backwards. She draws her bow and arrow, watching as the two heroes enter the gardens, locking eyes with her. She remembers a class from high school, chemistry. Don’t puncture an aerosol can.
She’s so lucky that she still has her mask on: Artemis stares back into Green Arrow’s icy blue eyes as she fires her arrow straight, downwards, completely missing his body, or Black Canary behind him.
She stares him down as the arrow punctures the aerosol container by his foot, emitting a large and extremely hazardous explosion into the air. The two bodies are thrown back by the explosion, and the hedge catches on fire, spreading throughout the garden far too quickly. The explosion blows back towards Artemis, smoke curling around her, and leaves her coughing and wheezing for far too long. After half a minute, she’s left quietly choking out the chemicals on her tongue, tears in her eyes. The mask may have protected her identity, but is not enough for the consequences of potential bioterrorism. Black spots seep into her vision, and she blinks rapidly, not sure what to do.
She wants to curse. By the time she gets to the maze, it might burn to a crisp, leaving her standing out in the open. She clutches her mask closer to her nose as she desperately tries to think, grateful for her gloves. The skin on her arms prickles with the ash flying around, burning a bit of her wrists, and she has a sudden pang of guilt for whatever happened to Black Canary and Green Arrow. They were ten feet closer to the makeshift bomb that she was. Even on the off chance that they survive, they know who she is. If they don’t, she won’t be escaping anywhere with the brand of hero-murderer. Just thinking of that makes Artemis feel sick: to be on the same level as Joker, she won’t accept. She truly didn’t mean for this to happen– right? Or is she as rotten as her father is, deep down?
Artemis’s shoulders sink a little more thinking what could happen if she walks away, unscathed. Will the Justice League come barrelling in, just like they did four years ago? Her mother was sent to Belle Reve, and abused for many years though she’ll never admit it. Her father won’t protect her, and Jade is gone. It’s just Artemis. It’s always only been Artemis.
Her mind is made up.
She slowly begins walking towards the blazing fire at the front of the garden, smoke rising higher and higher. Faintly, she can hear sirens in the distance, but pays them no mind. In the back of her mind, her consciousness screams at her to turn, to run, to hide. To survive. It bangs in her skull, pain reverberating around her head. Is this real, or is this another hallucination, too?
She just wants the pain to stop, she reasons. Artemis takes another hesitant step forward, fingers clutching the second spray can. She peers for their bodies, but she can’t find them. Maybe, just maybe, she can save them like she failed to do for her mother. She can make them stay like her father never did.
In her mind, more screaming. More banging on the plexiglass that separates her consciousness from her body. Turn around, turn around, she shrieks, run, hide, survive…
The sirens are so close now. Artemis can see the outline of Green Arrow’s hood, burning away. She catches sight of his face, puckered in pain, but useless to his limp body.
It’s so similar to her mother, laying in their house unable to get up, that she begins sobbing, tears streaming at a steady rate. Doesn’t know why she’s crying. Stupid, soft, selfish little sister.
Jade is in the corner of her eyes. She turns around, looking into the gardens for her.Her sister looks unconvinced at her mania, scoffing at her. Just like Dad… she hisses, so pathetic. So reliant on that trash.
That’s it. That’s what Artemis has been missing this whole time— her Venom. She just needs to get a bit better, faster, stronger. Her subconscious agrees with her softly, no longer pounding in her skull.
Jade’s face contorts in panic, and flickers out of existence. Artemis turns again, stepping nearer to Green Arrow’s body. She can do this. She can pull him out. She grabs his leg, pulling with all her might— and he doesn't move. She tries his other leg, in a panic now. Nothing.
Artemis can’t register the flames licking around her. She can barely even see the outline of the ambulance across the street. And she definitely doesn’t see a black cape flutter on top of Queen Industries.
She drops the can, stuffing her hand in her pocket to rummage around for her prescription. That’s when she remembers the second half of her chemistry lecture.
Never drop aerosol cans in an open fire.
She sees nothing, she is nothing; she’s thrown back into the fountain, jaw cracking as she hits it head on. The black spots in her eyes overtake her completely, leaving her blind— she can’t move her hand from where it is in her pocket, did she break it? She’s trapped in her thoughts, and the fire seems content to feast at Black Canary and Green Arrow a little while longer, and she lays dazed in the water, unable to breathe, leg burning in pain. She feels half of herself submerged, the other exposed. She fights the mask, trying to take it off, trying to inhale something other than water. Her arms are weightless, and so is she, and she closes her eyes and gives in to the darkness.
There is pain, and then pressure releases at her sternum, and then there is nothing again.
Her world is hazy, shadows and echoes tangible, playing on her lips, skin, touching her without respite. Whispers in her ears, sounding awfully like her mother, more than she cares to admit. Whether they are comforting or demeaning, Artemis cannot discern; her mother has always been softer, even before incarceration: her father was always cruel, yet here, they feel the same.
Somewhere far above her, out of her dreamscape, doctors attend to her, rushing around a white room. The next room over is where Oliver Queen rests, and next to him, his fiance Dinah Lance. Both suffering extensive burns and damage to their bodies and faces, the press hound the outside of Gotham Hospital with renewable vigour. Their demand for the perpetrator has not gone unnoticed.
No one answers them, though. For how can the Justice League reveal that the enemy is within their own walls?