Cry, Little Sister [5/?]
Title: Cry, Little Sister [5/?]
Characters: Artemis, M'gann, ensemble
Pairings: Some Artemis/Wally and Megan/Conner
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to illegal genetic experimentation, assassins, violence, spoilers for entire series (so far). Also follows the assumption that Megan is a white Martian.
Summary: A series AU. Artemis is another Cadmus experiment, released by Dubbilex into M'gann's care.
Part 5: Artemis broods.
August 6th
“Green Arrow and Batman are investigating the mystery archer from last week,” M’gann scowled. Her arms were crossed and if she were anybody else, her glare would be slicing through Artemis’s skull into the cabin wall. Luckily this was M’gann, so her pout was more cute than threatening.
“So what?” Artemis shrugged. She was spread across the floor, idly flipping a knife between her fingers. “Not like they’re going to find anything.”
“They can and they will,” M’gann hissed. “They’ll find you, and what do you think will happen to us? To everyone?”
“Enlighten me.”
“I’ll probably be sent home.” M’gann’s eyes flashed with something - grief? - and for a second, Artemis felt the tiniest pang of remorse. “But you - I don’t know what they’ll do to you.”
“They won’t dissect me,” Artemis scoffed, propelling herself to sit straight. “They didn’t do anything to my brother. The Justice League has morals.”
“Superboy is simple,” M’gann countered. “He’s a clone. We have no idea who’s DNA you’re created from - for all we know, you could have superpowers. Not to mention, you were specifically created with assassinations in mind.”
“Hey, I have heroes in here!” the blonde protested. “And I have, you know, standards and all that. I’m not a rabid animal.”
“You could be,” the Martian said solemnly in a voice that made Artemis’s blood run cold. “Anything could happen.”
Anything could happen. Artemis sat alone on the edge of a rooftop, pondering the statement. She wasn’t moping, just thinking. Really.
Hundreds of happy little citizens milled the streets beneath her, faint voices and signals melding to drift up as a blur of sounds and color. She could see gang members gathering together, clustered like ants. The glint of metal weapons sang out at her under their coats and pockets but she didn’t move, still thinking.
Anything could happen. The alien was a lot more cynical than expected if she could think of that. Somehow it hadn’t even occurred to Artemis that there could be hidden programming or secret powers that simply hadn’t activated yet. How could she be so stupid?
Anything could happen. M’gann was right. It was too dangerous to leave Batman sniffing her trail when Cadmus might be doing the same. The League could have her put down, or Cadmus could take her back. Dissection and death on one hand, dissection and slavery on the other. Neither option looked too fun.
Artemis glanced at her bow, the stupid bow that had gotten her into this mess. If she hadn’t stolen it, hadn’t used it, maybe none of this would be happening. But she couldn’t hate her beautiful weapon when it had given her so much power, so much freedom and adrenaline. Besides, she’d saved that speedy idiot’s life - surely the heroes couldn’t fault her for that! She just wanted to have a little fun, to live, wasn’t that her constitutional right?
Or did that only apply to natural beings?
The gang members were moving now, one of them waving what she recognized to be a Remington 870. Cute.
She compressed her bow and scuttled down the side of her building, keeping a wary eye on the gangsters. They were marching now, disrupting the streets with their underwhelming dramatics. They seemed to be heading for a warehouse, all of them slowly revealing their various weapons. It was a colorful group, one hand even holding a rather lovely Beretta.
She followed them silently, still mulling over her annoying philosophical crisis. Did she have a right to freedom? Did she have a right to life? Superman, from what she understood, was completely horrified of Superboy’s existence. For good reason, considering Superboy was meant to be a bendable replacement, but she couldn’t help wonder if that was fair.
She hadn’t had a say in how she was made; of course she would rather have been born. Of course she would have preferred a uterus to a test tube, a hospital to a lab, a smiling mother to a thoughtful scientist. Of course she would have chosen love over clinical curiosity.
There was a violent crash and a scream - the fight had started.
Artemis dashed forward, whipping out her compact bow and a smooth arrow. From what she could see, it was a drug raid. The other side was pathetic, barely fighting as they scrambled to run away. One of the drug dealers was cowering beside his goods as a gang member approached. The man held out his gun and she knew that look on his face, she knew it like the beat of her own heart.
The other man was going to die.
With speed she had never used, she swept out an arrow and shot it at the gangster’s arm. It pierced past him, cutting his elbow open, and she cherished his cry. It was of pain, not death, even though her unwelcome instincts itched to tear into his throat.
She shot at the others, easily missing their vital organs, when she noticed a shadow on one of the skylights. The silhouette was streaked across the floor in the ominous sign of a bat.
Crap, she realized as Batman smashed through the roof. This might not be good.
Characters: Artemis, M'gann, ensemble
Pairings: Some Artemis/Wally and Megan/Conner
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to illegal genetic experimentation, assassins, violence, spoilers for entire series (so far). Also follows the assumption that Megan is a white Martian.
Summary: A series AU. Artemis is another Cadmus experiment, released by Dubbilex into M'gann's care.
Part 5: Artemis broods.
August 6th
“Green Arrow and Batman are investigating the mystery archer from last week,” M’gann scowled. Her arms were crossed and if she were anybody else, her glare would be slicing through Artemis’s skull into the cabin wall. Luckily this was M’gann, so her pout was more cute than threatening.
“So what?” Artemis shrugged. She was spread across the floor, idly flipping a knife between her fingers. “Not like they’re going to find anything.”
“They can and they will,” M’gann hissed. “They’ll find you, and what do you think will happen to us? To everyone?”
“Enlighten me.”
“I’ll probably be sent home.” M’gann’s eyes flashed with something - grief? - and for a second, Artemis felt the tiniest pang of remorse. “But you - I don’t know what they’ll do to you.”
“They won’t dissect me,” Artemis scoffed, propelling herself to sit straight. “They didn’t do anything to my brother. The Justice League has morals.”
“Superboy is simple,” M’gann countered. “He’s a clone. We have no idea who’s DNA you’re created from - for all we know, you could have superpowers. Not to mention, you were specifically created with assassinations in mind.”
“Hey, I have heroes in here!” the blonde protested. “And I have, you know, standards and all that. I’m not a rabid animal.”
“You could be,” the Martian said solemnly in a voice that made Artemis’s blood run cold. “Anything could happen.”
Anything could happen. Artemis sat alone on the edge of a rooftop, pondering the statement. She wasn’t moping, just thinking. Really.
Hundreds of happy little citizens milled the streets beneath her, faint voices and signals melding to drift up as a blur of sounds and color. She could see gang members gathering together, clustered like ants. The glint of metal weapons sang out at her under their coats and pockets but she didn’t move, still thinking.
Anything could happen. The alien was a lot more cynical than expected if she could think of that. Somehow it hadn’t even occurred to Artemis that there could be hidden programming or secret powers that simply hadn’t activated yet. How could she be so stupid?
Anything could happen. M’gann was right. It was too dangerous to leave Batman sniffing her trail when Cadmus might be doing the same. The League could have her put down, or Cadmus could take her back. Dissection and death on one hand, dissection and slavery on the other. Neither option looked too fun.
Artemis glanced at her bow, the stupid bow that had gotten her into this mess. If she hadn’t stolen it, hadn’t used it, maybe none of this would be happening. But she couldn’t hate her beautiful weapon when it had given her so much power, so much freedom and adrenaline. Besides, she’d saved that speedy idiot’s life - surely the heroes couldn’t fault her for that! She just wanted to have a little fun, to live, wasn’t that her constitutional right?
Or did that only apply to natural beings?
The gang members were moving now, one of them waving what she recognized to be a Remington 870. Cute.
She compressed her bow and scuttled down the side of her building, keeping a wary eye on the gangsters. They were marching now, disrupting the streets with their underwhelming dramatics. They seemed to be heading for a warehouse, all of them slowly revealing their various weapons. It was a colorful group, one hand even holding a rather lovely Beretta.
She followed them silently, still mulling over her annoying philosophical crisis. Did she have a right to freedom? Did she have a right to life? Superman, from what she understood, was completely horrified of Superboy’s existence. For good reason, considering Superboy was meant to be a bendable replacement, but she couldn’t help wonder if that was fair.
She hadn’t had a say in how she was made; of course she would rather have been born. Of course she would have preferred a uterus to a test tube, a hospital to a lab, a smiling mother to a thoughtful scientist. Of course she would have chosen love over clinical curiosity.
There was a violent crash and a scream - the fight had started.
Artemis dashed forward, whipping out her compact bow and a smooth arrow. From what she could see, it was a drug raid. The other side was pathetic, barely fighting as they scrambled to run away. One of the drug dealers was cowering beside his goods as a gang member approached. The man held out his gun and she knew that look on his face, she knew it like the beat of her own heart.
The other man was going to die.
With speed she had never used, she swept out an arrow and shot it at the gangster’s arm. It pierced past him, cutting his elbow open, and she cherished his cry. It was of pain, not death, even though her unwelcome instincts itched to tear into his throat.
She shot at the others, easily missing their vital organs, when she noticed a shadow on one of the skylights. The silhouette was streaked across the floor in the ominous sign of a bat.
Crap, she realized as Batman smashed through the roof. This might not be good.