I have a few problems with how this went down. 1. Mortal/secular law is not currently ready to deal with the supernatural, he's is not a meta so no suppression collar in previous chaps MC states that this type of blood magic is kill on sight for the supernatural community 2. He is not a normal crazy person that can be sent to Arkham to get his therapy(not like anyone gets better in Arkham but…) his issues are soul deep now. I want to say all MC action could have been explained in a rational way to calm Artemis down and get her to understand but thats a personal prefrence
Fifth World Problems (DC, YJ)
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I know, right! And it's only going to get messier, the next two chapters are their reactions.
She does. Artemis also has a point however, in that, given that Eri would have likely lost the Executioner fight solo and had zero idea how to actually take him on before Artemis came up with a strategy, Eri isn't exactly safe doing her shit either. The DC universe's power levels work so that unless you're the top tier of the top tier, there's always a good chance someone stronger than you can come along and wreck your shit with zero effort.
- Location
- England
Should be "He", as far as I can tell.
Should be "one".
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Like, I do t get why they're destroying their friendship? Like, the bow would have been a good peace offering and Eri did say she was trying to figure out how to make Artemis immortal too.
Lashing out like that doesn't make sense.
The formula for this is to concede the other side has a point, then work off it. Not lash out and make your best friend think you're secretly evil.
Heck, break down and have a good cry! That demonstrates vulnerability and contrition, as well as that you care about the other person!
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PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
These are good points, but unfortunately, both Argyra and Artemis are dumb teenagers full of drama.
I'm making suggestions for things I did when I was a teenager.
LunaMoth
Wings of Kynareth is my comfort song...
- Pronouns
- He/They
Yeah I get that they both have valid points. It's just Eri was a little more compelling to me than Artemis was: disregarding the fact that they were having drama and were airing grievances.
Like if you are going to be fighting superpowered people, it doesn't make sense in my opinion to ignore stuff like magic and super-serums.
Like the first thing my DC SI would do if they were going up against powers, is try to find supernatural powers of their own. Not just do a training montage and put on spandex.
Idk that argument from Eri just hit upon one of my main gripes with superhero fiction is all.
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Try to imagine it from Artemis's perspective: imagine you have a friend that shoots a home intruder in the leg in self-defense... And then, when they robber is lying on the ground unconscious, puts two in their head, for pretty much no reason. Zero hesitation, zero remorse. And then doesn't even understand what's wrong when you're unnerved.
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yep, that was one of the reasons I gave him the motivations that I did. I wanted to show that Artemis might actually have a bit of a point about extrajudicial murder being a bad thing. Which, because I know the fandom I'm in, was sorely needed lol.
LunaMoth
Wings of Kynareth is my comfort song...
- Pronouns
- He/They
Isn't the thing with 'bad magic users' that they can't be locked up or persuaded to stop easily? Like especially if they are being corrupted by outside entities? Not saying that they shouldn't try Artemis does have a point, but aren't magic users in dc… Just built different?
I think there's also a difference between the types of people they fight. Capes like Batman and Artemis generally just fight guys with a single gimmick beatable by a normal human Or guys in tech suits, which lets them get away with being non-superpowered.
The magical community(I think) generally fights less constrained threats, though it's been a while since I read dc. Just thinking about how a lot of the time when capes are put against a magic user they usually have more trouble than normal beating them?
I think there's also a difference between the types of people they fight. Capes like Batman and Artemis generally just fight guys with a single gimmick beatable by a normal human Or guys in tech suits, which lets them get away with being non-superpowered.
The magical community(I think) generally fights less constrained threats, though it's been a while since I read dc. Just thinking about how a lot of the time when capes are put against a magic user they usually have more trouble than normal beating them?
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It won't come up for a while, but in this AU Belle Reve (and a few other similar facilities) has facilities for containing magic users as well as metahumans.
I honestly operate under the assumption that DC humans have a higher threshold for training that ones in our world. So your normal guy is going to be about the same, but if he does Batman-level training, he could get himself up to what in Worm terms might be a Brute 2. In my AU, it's for reasons I can't get into bc they're spoilers.
- Location
- England
On behalf of the fandom, 'ouch'.
But, yeah, there's a reason SV needs the 'no ITG' rules.
It's because of his literal legend (and worship) i'snt it. Whats the difference between older worship and hero worship?
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
No, but this hits on an issue semi-adjacent to the actual reason.
1.11 / White Noise (Argyra)
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
PoV: Argyra
I run a hand through my hair.
That… That… I can't even- What the- Who the fuck does she think she even-
Did she just seriously chastise- She was fucking hiding from me- Going out to get herself killed- Like I don't even matter to her in the-
I slam a fist into the wall next to me, trying to silence the thoughts running through my head.
Fuck.
I slam my fist into the wall.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I scream incoherently into the rain.
Fuck it.
Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.
I need to… not, right now.
…
Looks like I'll be attending Brent's party after all.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Fuck this shit, fuck Artemis, who even cares about her! I am having a great time!
I snort another line of coke off of Mrs. North's no-doubt extremelt expensive end table. Why have I never done this before?
"I AM A FUCKING DEMIGOOOODDDD"
The crowd cheers at that.
The music is thumping, the bodies in the mansion's living room are packed close together, and I am living.
I find myself dancing next to an Indian guy I don't recognize, practically molding my body against him.
I went extremely thicc on the body, and made sure to change into an extra slutty outfit once I took off my costume.
"Hey!" he says, and I can barely hear him over the music, "I'm Ian!"
"Just shut the fuck up and dance!"
He shrugs, and starts grinding against me to the thrum of the bass.
About a minute later, he starts trying to paw at my top, and I push him away.
God, men.
[heyyYyo! loOks like yur hAvin' fun! wHo's mr. hUnk?]
Oh, fuck, dad! How are you doing, man! You having fun?
[diD joHn quincy aDams secretly have tWo dicks? hEll yeah, baby!!!!!! lEt's go MacAauuu!]
Whoo, Macau!!!!!!
Wait I thought you were still in Europe? I know you can't teleport, how'd you end up in fucking China?
[dunno kiD, just kinna haPpened. y'know it his, one minnit yer p- *hurk* surry]
[Ugh, feela lil' better now. but yea i'uz plain' a river kami in majong, n'i bet… I bet sumn I shuldna bet. n'then i lost, so i fuckin' wenna Macau.]
Right, I heard the Chinese gods are still pissed at the Kami for World War Two.
[AN IT WUZ THE GREATESHT DECISION I'EVER MADE INMY LIIIIFE MACAU'S THE BESHT!!!!]
I laugh. You know Dad, I think I'm starting to finally understand you. Sometimes you just gotta say fuck it. Fuck the haters, fuck the judgemental bitches, and fuck everyone telling you what to do! Let's go Macau!
[LESH GO MACAUUUUU!]
I immerse myself into the dance floor, shaking my hips like a woman possessed.
I slide up next to a cute-looking blonde in a-
I move away, sliding up to a hot redhead, who is far more attractive than that other girl.
I can hear the beat thump in my bone marrow, my entire body vibrating.
That… might be the cocaine, actually.
Bah, same difference.
A minute later, someone passes me a rolling-paper full of something unidentifiable. I take a gigantic toke, and-
Huh?
Oh shit, right dancing.
Ohhhhhhhh yeah, that's the stuff.
I cycle through the floor for about twenty minutes, dancing and grinding and gyrating with an endless series of peop- mortals, only half of whom I recognize beneath the DIY-installed neon lights.
I take at least two more hits of whatever's being passed around, and end up downing at least three cans of beer — Holy shit, is this fucking Miller Lite? How cheap are these people? — and crushing it against my head.
"CHUG CHUG, CHUG!"
And uh… apparently at some point, I've migrated over to the keg, and am doing my best to win a kegstand contest. God, this is disgusting, but like hell if I'm losing to… uh.. whoever that guy is.
[THAT'S MY GIRL! CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG]
You said it, dad!
A few times, I think I see a flash of golden hair on the edge of my vision, but I go back into the dance floor to lose myself in the sea of bodies until the pangs inside me go away.
But no matter how many strangers I rub myself against, and how many unreasonably cheap beers I swill down, I know that it won't help me when my heart feels like fucking ash, and my oli psikhi, entire whole soul has gone and left m-
Fuck, I think I need another bump of coke, I'm starting to come down.
I make my way over to the edge of the party, covered in sweat and what are probably a few other fluids I'd rather not think about.
Okay, table table… There we go!
"HEY, WHO HAS THE FUCKING COKE!"
A minute later, and I'm snorting another line off of a copy of an Almanac, bending over the coffee table next to the obviously-spiked punch bowl.
Ooh, actually…
I grab a solo cup and plunge that motherfucker in there like I'm spear-fishing, before slamming it to my mouth.
Ew, what's this weak shit?
"That's whiskey, Argyra" I hear from next to me.
Shit, did I say that out loud?
"Yes, you did."
"Well, it'S uh… bad, one… uh… not… uh… fUck… there should be more."
Oh hey, I know that face!
"Ayyy, Bri-bri! How.. how'y doin? D'the Norths have a… whadjacallit, a ghost- a licker cabinet somewhere?"
Bri-Bri looks a little taken aback. "I… Do you mean a liquor cabinet? I don't think so?"
I giggle. "Yeah, dashit. Y'know ghosts, spirits, licker… whatever…"
"I don't think they do, but even if they did, one of Brent's rules was-"
"Fuck you. I am fuckin' through followin' stupid damn mortal rules, damn morality. Fuck allAt shit."
I take a swig of the vodka-and-punch.
"From nowwon, I'm doin' wha' I wanna t'do, no annoyin' fucking Artie naggin' me alla time."
"I… what? How drunk are you?"
"Oooh, lookat me, I'm lil' mizz perfect, jumping aroUnd with m'fuckin arrows n' shit. Mizz fuckin' hero, Mizz impal- imp- throwerself on a fuckin' shpear to save some fuckin' nutcase…"
Shit, a bit too close to letting things slip, there, dial it back a notch.
Brianna puts a hand on my shoulder. "Argyra, did something happen between you and Artemis? She called me sobbing a few hours ago, hung up, and no one's been able to reach her since. And seriously, how much have you had?"
I give out a jolly, full-throated, very extremely normal laugh, gently brushing her hand off my shoulder. "Pssht, pleazhe. Nothin' happen'. Because apparently, NOTHIN' is what I fucking know about her, really! And what I fuckin' AM t'her! Becuz fuckin' APPAREN'LY-"
I only realize I'm angrily screaming and waving my arms when Brianna starts backing away.
"Aw, shit, 'msorry Bri-Bri! C'mon baaaack. I promise i'un get angry again!"
I give my best pout.
"Pweeeeaaase?"
Brianna snatches the cup from my hand. "Argyra, I think you've had enough. I'm not comfortable with letti-"
Oh no, this bitch did not fucking say-
"O-OH SO YUR NOT COMFERBLE wif me? You think yur SOOOOO GREAT, HUH? You think yur SOOOOOO mush better than Evil fuckin Eri, huh? 'Cause Well I gotsum fuckin' NEWS for you, y'cold-hearted fuckin' BITSH! YER notso fuckin' great!!"
I slam a hand onto the table, cracking the wood.
"OOOOOH, you got yer fancy fuckin' SHIT, goin' out like yer BIG DICK FUCKING RICKY ALLL over town! Well wen you ennup DEAD! In a fuckin' DITCH! Don' cum crying t'me!"
I ignore how my heart seizes at the thought.
I crush my cup in my hand. "But yer SOOOO perfect though! So you probably wunn'nt even lemme do a fuckin' SEANCE, because ur SOOO moral, an I'M such a FUCKIN' LYING HEARTLESS ARRUHGANT MONSTER, so OBVIOUSLY-"
It's at that point, Brent puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Alright, friend. I think you're more than a little plastered, and-"
"DONTCHU FUCKIN'… TELL ME WHAT TO DO! M'FUCKIN' FINE!"
I take a wild swing at his face, which he manages to dodge out of the way from.
"Ok, way fucking out of line! Out, now!"
He steps up, all 6'4" of him staring me down, pointing towards the door.
Pssht, I can take him.
Three of his fellow football players step up behind him, giving me angry looks.
…Fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted.
"Oh FUCK you! Fuck alla you! I'm too fuckin' good for thish fuckin' party!"
I storm out, slamming the door behind me.
I wonder if Mischa's Pub still doesn't card…
Artie, I'm sorry.
AN: Question: if Rose was going to have a metahuman power, what would it be? Not saying she'll get one, it may or may not be for a character with a similar personality and profession.
As always, discussion keeps me motivated, so please let me know what you think.
I run a hand through my hair.
That… That… I can't even- What the- Who the fuck does she think she even-
Did she just seriously chastise- She was fucking hiding from me- Going out to get herself killed- Like I don't even matter to her in the-
I slam a fist into the wall next to me, trying to silence the thoughts running through my head.
Fuck.
I slam my fist into the wall.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I scream incoherently into the rain.
Fuck it.
Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.
I need to… not, right now.
…
Looks like I'll be attending Brent's party after all.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Fuck this shit, fuck Artemis, who even cares about her! I am having a great time!
I snort another line of coke off of Mrs. North's no-doubt extremelt expensive end table. Why have I never done this before?
"I AM A FUCKING DEMIGOOOODDDD"
The crowd cheers at that.
The music is thumping, the bodies in the mansion's living room are packed close together, and I am living.
I find myself dancing next to an Indian guy I don't recognize, practically molding my body against him.
I went extremely thicc on the body, and made sure to change into an extra slutty outfit once I took off my costume.
"Hey!" he says, and I can barely hear him over the music, "I'm Ian!"
"Just shut the fuck up and dance!"
He shrugs, and starts grinding against me to the thrum of the bass.
About a minute later, he starts trying to paw at my top, and I push him away.
God, men.
[heyyYyo! loOks like yur hAvin' fun! wHo's mr. hUnk?]
Oh, fuck, dad! How are you doing, man! You having fun?
[diD joHn quincy aDams secretly have tWo dicks? hEll yeah, baby!!!!!! lEt's go MacAauuu!]
Whoo, Macau!!!!!!
Wait I thought you were still in Europe? I know you can't teleport, how'd you end up in fucking China?
[dunno kiD, just kinna haPpened. y'know it his, one minnit yer p- *hurk* surry]
[Ugh, feela lil' better now. but yea i'uz plain' a river kami in majong, n'i bet… I bet sumn I shuldna bet. n'then i lost, so i fuckin' wenna Macau.]
Right, I heard the Chinese gods are still pissed at the Kami for World War Two.
[AN IT WUZ THE GREATESHT DECISION I'EVER MADE INMY LIIIIFE MACAU'S THE BESHT!!!!]
I laugh. You know Dad, I think I'm starting to finally understand you. Sometimes you just gotta say fuck it. Fuck the haters, fuck the judgemental bitches, and fuck everyone telling you what to do! Let's go Macau!
[LESH GO MACAUUUUU!]
I immerse myself into the dance floor, shaking my hips like a woman possessed.
I slide up next to a cute-looking blonde in a-
I move away, sliding up to a hot redhead, who is far more attractive than that other girl.
I can hear the beat thump in my bone marrow, my entire body vibrating.
That… might be the cocaine, actually.
Bah, same difference.
A minute later, someone passes me a rolling-paper full of something unidentifiable. I take a gigantic toke, and-
Huh?
Oh shit, right dancing.
Ohhhhhhhh yeah, that's the stuff.
I cycle through the floor for about twenty minutes, dancing and grinding and gyrating with an endless series of peop- mortals, only half of whom I recognize beneath the DIY-installed neon lights.
I take at least two more hits of whatever's being passed around, and end up downing at least three cans of beer — Holy shit, is this fucking Miller Lite? How cheap are these people? — and crushing it against my head.
"CHUG CHUG, CHUG!"
And uh… apparently at some point, I've migrated over to the keg, and am doing my best to win a kegstand contest. God, this is disgusting, but like hell if I'm losing to… uh.. whoever that guy is.
[THAT'S MY GIRL! CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG]
You said it, dad!
A few times, I think I see a flash of golden hair on the edge of my vision, but I go back into the dance floor to lose myself in the sea of bodies until the pangs inside me go away.
But no matter how many strangers I rub myself against, and how many unreasonably cheap beers I swill down, I know that it won't help me when my heart feels like fucking ash, and my oli psikhi, entire whole soul has gone and left m-
Fuck, I think I need another bump of coke, I'm starting to come down.
I make my way over to the edge of the party, covered in sweat and what are probably a few other fluids I'd rather not think about.
Okay, table table… There we go!
"HEY, WHO HAS THE FUCKING COKE!"
A minute later, and I'm snorting another line off of a copy of an Almanac, bending over the coffee table next to the obviously-spiked punch bowl.
Ooh, actually…
I grab a solo cup and plunge that motherfucker in there like I'm spear-fishing, before slamming it to my mouth.
Ew, what's this weak shit?
"That's whiskey, Argyra" I hear from next to me.
Shit, did I say that out loud?
"Yes, you did."
"Well, it'S uh… bad, one… uh… not… uh… fUck… there should be more."
Oh hey, I know that face!
"Ayyy, Bri-bri! How.. how'y doin? D'the Norths have a… whadjacallit, a ghost- a licker cabinet somewhere?"
Bri-Bri looks a little taken aback. "I… Do you mean a liquor cabinet? I don't think so?"
I giggle. "Yeah, dashit. Y'know ghosts, spirits, licker… whatever…"
"I don't think they do, but even if they did, one of Brent's rules was-"
"Fuck you. I am fuckin' through followin' stupid damn mortal rules, damn morality. Fuck allAt shit."
I take a swig of the vodka-and-punch.
"From nowwon, I'm doin' wha' I wanna t'do, no annoyin' fucking Artie naggin' me alla time."
"I… what? How drunk are you?"
"Oooh, lookat me, I'm lil' mizz perfect, jumping aroUnd with m'fuckin arrows n' shit. Mizz fuckin' hero, Mizz impal- imp- throwerself on a fuckin' shpear to save some fuckin' nutcase…"
Shit, a bit too close to letting things slip, there, dial it back a notch.
Brianna puts a hand on my shoulder. "Argyra, did something happen between you and Artemis? She called me sobbing a few hours ago, hung up, and no one's been able to reach her since. And seriously, how much have you had?"
I give out a jolly, full-throated, very extremely normal laugh, gently brushing her hand off my shoulder. "Pssht, pleazhe. Nothin' happen'. Because apparently, NOTHIN' is what I fucking know about her, really! And what I fuckin' AM t'her! Becuz fuckin' APPAREN'LY-"
I only realize I'm angrily screaming and waving my arms when Brianna starts backing away.
"Aw, shit, 'msorry Bri-Bri! C'mon baaaack. I promise i'un get angry again!"
I give my best pout.
"Pweeeeaaase?"
Brianna snatches the cup from my hand. "Argyra, I think you've had enough. I'm not comfortable with letti-"
Oh no, this bitch did not fucking say-
"O-OH SO YUR NOT COMFERBLE wif me? You think yur SOOOOO GREAT, HUH? You think yur SOOOOOO mush better than Evil fuckin Eri, huh? 'Cause Well I gotsum fuckin' NEWS for you, y'cold-hearted fuckin' BITSH! YER notso fuckin' great!!"
I slam a hand onto the table, cracking the wood.
"OOOOOH, you got yer fancy fuckin' SHIT, goin' out like yer BIG DICK FUCKING RICKY ALLL over town! Well wen you ennup DEAD! In a fuckin' DITCH! Don' cum crying t'me!"
I crush my cup in my hand. "But yer SOOOO perfect though! So you probably wunn'nt even lemme do a fuckin' SEANCE, because ur SOOO moral, an I'M such a FUCKIN' LYING HEARTLESS ARRUHGANT MONSTER, so OBVIOUSLY-"
It's at that point, Brent puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Alright, friend. I think you're more than a little plastered, and-"
"DONTCHU FUCKIN'… TELL ME WHAT TO DO! M'FUCKIN' FINE!"
I take a wild swing at his face, which he manages to dodge out of the way from.
"Ok, way fucking out of line! Out, now!"
He steps up, all 6'4" of him staring me down, pointing towards the door.
Pssht, I can take him.
Three of his fellow football players step up behind him, giving me angry looks.
…Fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted.
"Oh FUCK you! Fuck alla you! I'm too fuckin' good for thish fuckin' party!"
I storm out, slamming the door behind me.
I wonder if Mischa's Pub still doesn't card…
AN: Question: if Rose was going to have a metahuman power, what would it be? Not saying she'll get one, it may or may not be for a character with a similar personality and profession.
As always, discussion keeps me motivated, so please let me know what you think.
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1.12 / Primal Scream (Artemis)
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
PoV: Artemis
I storm my way down the road to my mom's apartment, hands clenched into tight fists.
Before E- before she interrupted me, I was working on dismantling the Penguin's gun-smuggling operations. It's important work, and needs to be done, so why not do it now?
After all, it's not like something's wrong.
It's not like I'm upset.
It's not like my best fucking friend has been living a secret double-life, acting as some sort of-
I growl, fingers digging into my palm. Focus. Always forward, never back: I can't think about…
How my cục bạc, my lovely piece of silver, has left me forever.
About…
Oh gods, how was I so wrong about Eri? Who even is she? Is everything about her a lie?
Was she just using me this entire time?
And that's not even mentioning- I mean, he was practically unconscious, not a threat at all, and she fucking executed him! No hesitation. And then she didn't even seem to understand what was wrong with that!
How many fucking times has she killed that she doesn't even twitch when-
Focus.
Somehow, I find myself standing in front of the cheap motorcycle I store in the alley next to mom's apartment. I slam myself down on the seat and take off to Penguin territory.
No helmet, because I'm not some fucking delicate little-
Focus.
I want to say time passed during my ride, which took about twenty minutes, but if you asked I wouldn't be able to recall a single moment of it.
I leap from rooftop to rooftop, making my way towards where the last of the stash-houses I've spent all week busting is located.
Penguin's been getting more and more pissed off lately, putting larger squads of goons on each house. Since he doesn't have to split his forces, he might even have a cape at this one.
I smirk. Doesn't matter how many capes he throws at me, I can take them. Because I've taken capes before, fucking metas, and done it without a fucking scratch. But no, apparently, I'm too delicate and fragile to evvvver actually fight, unlike her of course, with her magic fucking-
Not now. I'm here to bust the stash house.
I look around, realizing that I'm on the top floor of the apartment building next to the stash house.
There are about two dozen goons milling about the entrance of the building next door, doing an incredibly poor job of looking inconspicuous. Unfortunately, unlike most of the others, the surrounding buildings are all too tall to make sniping a reasonable strategy. I could hit them, don't get me wrong, even from this distance, but lining up the shots would take far too much effort.
I smile. But distance goes two ways, and the stash house being this far from the ground also means that they won't be able to hear what happens inside.
I glance across to building across from me. It looks like there's only one figure inside: a large, bulky man in a cowboy costume, sitting casually at a table while staring off into space.
That's got to be Stallion, one of Penguin's chief enforces. He has super strength, but only a minor increase in durability and speed.
Should be a piece of cake.
I'm sure that some people might be able to float a platform across the building, or walk on air, or something ridiculous like that, but I'm just ordinary, so I have to make do with making something myself, with my own two hands.
With a quick swipe, I pull out a specially-made arrow from a pouch behind me. It took me a while to figure out how to make an actual working grappling arrow, but I've been enough engineering classes thanks to Er- I've been in enough engineering classes that I picked up a thing or two.
I'll show you what us normal people can do, you haughty fucking bitch. You think-
Focus.
I shoot the arrow across the gap between the buildings, guiding it with the meager telekinetic spell E- she taught me.
Which apparently, is only a tiny fraction of what she can do, because I just wasn't important enough to her to bother-
I growl, and make sure the zipline has a solid lodging into the concrete of the other building.
I take in a deep breath, and slide down the specially-made rappelling cord, slamming feet-first against the window of the top floor apartment.
As the glass shatters around me, I duck and roll, coming to a stop with by bow raised.
I see a large, bulky man inside, dressed in a cowboy costume, half a sandwich hanging out of his mouth.
His eyes are wide, and he moves for a cell phone on the counter, do doubt to call in reinforcements from the goons downstairs. A quick shot from me pierces it through.
Perfect, just you and me.
To his credit, Stallion recovers quickly, splintering his wooden chair as he leaps into a combat stance.
"So you're the one that's been busting up our stashes?"
"That's right." I say, eyes hard. "And I'm looking to make tonight five for five."
The cowboy-themed cape laughs, cracking his knuckles. "And here I thought you'd be the Bat's new little boy-toy. You're gonna find me a damn harder fight than those little kids down there."
My eyes narrow. "You should wish I was Robin, asshole."
He snorts. "What's your name, darlin'? Chrissie, right? The Little Golden Archer."
I growl, despite knowing he's only doing this to get a rise out of me. "It's Chryssa, asshole. And I'm your worst fucking nightmare."
Chryssa, the Golden Archer, the bane of villains all across Gotham. Unbeatable, unbreakable, unstoppable.
Untrustable, unlovable.
I snarl. Shut the fuck up brain, no one asked you. Now I just have to take this idiot out, and I'll have all of the Penguin's gun-smuggling hideouts in this neighborhood taken down. And then everything will be fine, because I'm fine, and just won a major victory, which makes me happy.
I launch an arrow at the enforcer.
The Cowboy growls, jumping to the side to dodge. "Now that was rather rude, missy."
I snarl at the condescending asshole. "I'll show you rude!"
I launch two arrows quickly in a row. He twists to dodge one, and in the process puts himself in the path of the second, which slams into his right arm, lodging in the flesh.
He curses, breaking off the shaft, but still manages to let out a snort. "If a little sting like that's all you got, little girl, you might as well just go home now."
I snarl. "Don't underestimate me, you arrogant fucking bi- prick!"
I rush him, drawing my knife.
He smirks, and I only barely manage to avoid having my head crushed to a pulp my leaping to dodge his straight jab.
Stupid Artemis, you know to keep super-strong enemies at a range! It's like rule number one of fighting them, you learned this when you were fucking 9!
I shake my head. Focus, head in the game. You're up close now, might as well make the best of it.
I dodge the next blow more cleanly, spinning to the side in a textbook Aikido redirect.
Rule number two of fighting super-strong opponents is to redirect their energy.
Stallion makes a few more punches, which I dodge more easily, using his over-extension to plunge my knife into his arm a few times.
He gives a scream of anger, and leaps forward.
I step to the side, grappling his arm and using his own momentum to send him slamming into the ground.
"Fuck, that fucking hurt you little bitch!"
I smirk. Looks like you're not as fucking special as you though, huh, you smug motherfucker? All that talk of excellence, and you're getting your ass beaten by someone normal.
As he slams himself back to his feet, I take the opportunity to jump back, re-drawing my bow. Before he can get his bearings, I send an arrow straight at his left kneecap.
A bit more brutal than I'd prefer, but it's not like he doesn't deserve it.
Thanks to his disorientation, the arrow strikes home, and he lets out a bellow of pain. "YOU FUCKING CUNT, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU."
As he thrashes, his good arm swings up, scraping the ceiling and setting off the fire sprinklers.
No problem, I can aim in the rain.
"Oh?" I say smugly, as water begins to shower down around me. "You angry a delicate little girl's kicking your ass?"
"I DON'T CARE WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE, YOU SHOT MY FUCKING KNEECAP, OUT YOU'RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE."
He uses his one good leg to send himself hurling at me, attempting a full-body tackle. My eyes widen, and I only barely manage a backflip up onto the table.
I prepare my electric spell, the one I normally use to knock opponents out, but then I pause.
No, fuck that, and fuck the lying, arrogant bitch that taught it to me. I don't need shit from her. I can do fine, better than fine, all on my own.
I pull out my dagger, jumping down into a gravity-assisted stab towards where Stallion lies on the floor, disoriented.
It's at the last moment that I realize I've been aiming at the back of his head, and shift my dagger to the right to land directly into the meat of his shoulder.
The fake-cowboy lets out a pained scream, and I find a vicious smile curled on my face.
I flip up, slamming a foot into his body with a classic Muay Thai strike, flipping him over.
He reaches up, trying to grab my leg, but I nimbly dodge out of the way of his giant, slow-moving, meaty hand.
Looks like there are some advantages to being a "delicate little girl" after all, huh?
I launch a punch directly at his head, aiming to knock him out.
Unfortunately, it seems like the "mildly" bit of "mildly enhanced durability" is putting the work in, and he just rears back with a groan.
I snarl, jabbing again, breaking his nose.
He yells. "FUBK YEW, YEW LIDDL HOAR!"
I slam my fist into his face again, and again. "WHY. WON'T. YOU. FUCKING. JUST. STAY. DOWN!"
He snarls through his broken nose. "YUR FBUNCKIN' NUFFIN! FUNCK YEW!"
I scream in anger, slamming my fist back into his broken nose.
Who's fucking nothing now, you arrogant, condescending bitch!
I only realize I'm yelling that out loud when Stallion growls.
He spits in my face, blood and saliva mixing into the sprinkler-water raining down around us. "FUCNK YEW, LIDDL GURL!"
"I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S A LITTLE FUCKING GIRL!" I scream, slamming another fist into his head. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S FUCKING INCAPABLE"
I grab his hair, slamming his head into my knee. "I JUST TOOK YOU FUCKING DOWN! I TOOK DOWN THE PENGUIN'S SECOND-BEST FUCKING CAPE! YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING LOOK DOWN ON ME!"
He tries to headbutt me.
I let out a shriek of incoherent rage, grabbing his hair and slamming his face through the table.
"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! YOU LYING, TWO-TIMING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S FUCKING NOTHING, NOT-"
It's on the sixth slam that I finally feel him go limp, and I drop his body.
I stare at his limp form, head buried in the destroyed wooden table, my chest heaving.
It's… it's over.
I did it.
I beat him.
I won.
I look at his body, oozing bright red blood from over a dozen wounds, face beaten into a pulp.
I lean over, vomiting.
O-Oh god…
I collapse to the ground, hands clasped around my knees, great sobs wracking my chest.
Eri, what am I doing?
AN: The summary of the past two chapters can be "turns out Artemis and Argyra are a whole lot more like their parents than either of them would like to admit." There might have been an error w/ SV's threadmark system, so please make sure you've read "White Noise", the other chapter I've posted today.
As always, discussion keeps me motivated, so please let me know what you think.
I storm my way down the road to my mom's apartment, hands clenched into tight fists.
Before E- before she interrupted me, I was working on dismantling the Penguin's gun-smuggling operations. It's important work, and needs to be done, so why not do it now?
After all, it's not like something's wrong.
It's not like I'm upset.
It's not like my best fucking friend has been living a secret double-life, acting as some sort of-
I growl, fingers digging into my palm. Focus. Always forward, never back: I can't think about…
About…
Oh gods, how was I so wrong about Eri? Who even is she? Is everything about her a lie?
Was she just using me this entire time?
And that's not even mentioning- I mean, he was practically unconscious, not a threat at all, and she fucking executed him! No hesitation. And then she didn't even seem to understand what was wrong with that!
How many fucking times has she killed that she doesn't even twitch when-
Focus.
Somehow, I find myself standing in front of the cheap motorcycle I store in the alley next to mom's apartment. I slam myself down on the seat and take off to Penguin territory.
No helmet, because I'm not some fucking delicate little-
Focus.
I want to say time passed during my ride, which took about twenty minutes, but if you asked I wouldn't be able to recall a single moment of it.
I leap from rooftop to rooftop, making my way towards where the last of the stash-houses I've spent all week busting is located.
Penguin's been getting more and more pissed off lately, putting larger squads of goons on each house. Since he doesn't have to split his forces, he might even have a cape at this one.
I smirk. Doesn't matter how many capes he throws at me, I can take them. Because I've taken capes before, fucking metas, and done it without a fucking scratch. But no, apparently, I'm too delicate and fragile to evvvver actually fight, unlike her of course, with her magic fucking-
Not now. I'm here to bust the stash house.
I look around, realizing that I'm on the top floor of the apartment building next to the stash house.
There are about two dozen goons milling about the entrance of the building next door, doing an incredibly poor job of looking inconspicuous. Unfortunately, unlike most of the others, the surrounding buildings are all too tall to make sniping a reasonable strategy. I could hit them, don't get me wrong, even from this distance, but lining up the shots would take far too much effort.
I smile. But distance goes two ways, and the stash house being this far from the ground also means that they won't be able to hear what happens inside.
I glance across to building across from me. It looks like there's only one figure inside: a large, bulky man in a cowboy costume, sitting casually at a table while staring off into space.
That's got to be Stallion, one of Penguin's chief enforces. He has super strength, but only a minor increase in durability and speed.
Should be a piece of cake.
I'm sure that some people might be able to float a platform across the building, or walk on air, or something ridiculous like that, but I'm just ordinary, so I have to make do with making something myself, with my own two hands.
With a quick swipe, I pull out a specially-made arrow from a pouch behind me. It took me a while to figure out how to make an actual working grappling arrow, but I've been enough engineering classes thanks to Er- I've been in enough engineering classes that I picked up a thing or two.
I'll show you what us normal people can do, you haughty fucking bitch. You think-
Focus.
I shoot the arrow across the gap between the buildings, guiding it with the meager telekinetic spell E- she taught me.
Which apparently, is only a tiny fraction of what she can do, because I just wasn't important enough to her to bother-
I growl, and make sure the zipline has a solid lodging into the concrete of the other building.
I take in a deep breath, and slide down the specially-made rappelling cord, slamming feet-first against the window of the top floor apartment.
As the glass shatters around me, I duck and roll, coming to a stop with by bow raised.
I see a large, bulky man inside, dressed in a cowboy costume, half a sandwich hanging out of his mouth.
His eyes are wide, and he moves for a cell phone on the counter, do doubt to call in reinforcements from the goons downstairs. A quick shot from me pierces it through.
Perfect, just you and me.
To his credit, Stallion recovers quickly, splintering his wooden chair as he leaps into a combat stance.
"So you're the one that's been busting up our stashes?"
"That's right." I say, eyes hard. "And I'm looking to make tonight five for five."
The cowboy-themed cape laughs, cracking his knuckles. "And here I thought you'd be the Bat's new little boy-toy. You're gonna find me a damn harder fight than those little kids down there."
My eyes narrow. "You should wish I was Robin, asshole."
He snorts. "What's your name, darlin'? Chrissie, right? The Little Golden Archer."
I growl, despite knowing he's only doing this to get a rise out of me. "It's Chryssa, asshole. And I'm your worst fucking nightmare."
Chryssa, the Golden Archer, the bane of villains all across Gotham. Unbeatable, unbreakable, unstoppable.
I snarl. Shut the fuck up brain, no one asked you. Now I just have to take this idiot out, and I'll have all of the Penguin's gun-smuggling hideouts in this neighborhood taken down. And then everything will be fine, because I'm fine, and just won a major victory, which makes me happy.
I launch an arrow at the enforcer.
The Cowboy growls, jumping to the side to dodge. "Now that was rather rude, missy."
I snarl at the condescending asshole. "I'll show you rude!"
I launch two arrows quickly in a row. He twists to dodge one, and in the process puts himself in the path of the second, which slams into his right arm, lodging in the flesh.
He curses, breaking off the shaft, but still manages to let out a snort. "If a little sting like that's all you got, little girl, you might as well just go home now."
I snarl. "Don't underestimate me, you arrogant fucking bi- prick!"
I rush him, drawing my knife.
He smirks, and I only barely manage to avoid having my head crushed to a pulp my leaping to dodge his straight jab.
Stupid Artemis, you know to keep super-strong enemies at a range! It's like rule number one of fighting them, you learned this when you were fucking 9!
I shake my head. Focus, head in the game. You're up close now, might as well make the best of it.
I dodge the next blow more cleanly, spinning to the side in a textbook Aikido redirect.
Rule number two of fighting super-strong opponents is to redirect their energy.
Stallion makes a few more punches, which I dodge more easily, using his over-extension to plunge my knife into his arm a few times.
He gives a scream of anger, and leaps forward.
I step to the side, grappling his arm and using his own momentum to send him slamming into the ground.
"Fuck, that fucking hurt you little bitch!"
I smirk. Looks like you're not as fucking special as you though, huh, you smug motherfucker? All that talk of excellence, and you're getting your ass beaten by someone normal.
As he slams himself back to his feet, I take the opportunity to jump back, re-drawing my bow. Before he can get his bearings, I send an arrow straight at his left kneecap.
A bit more brutal than I'd prefer, but it's not like he doesn't deserve it.
Thanks to his disorientation, the arrow strikes home, and he lets out a bellow of pain. "YOU FUCKING CUNT, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU."
As he thrashes, his good arm swings up, scraping the ceiling and setting off the fire sprinklers.
No problem, I can aim in the rain.
"Oh?" I say smugly, as water begins to shower down around me. "You angry a delicate little girl's kicking your ass?"
"I DON'T CARE WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE, YOU SHOT MY FUCKING KNEECAP, OUT YOU'RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE."
He uses his one good leg to send himself hurling at me, attempting a full-body tackle. My eyes widen, and I only barely manage a backflip up onto the table.
I prepare my electric spell, the one I normally use to knock opponents out, but then I pause.
No, fuck that, and fuck the lying, arrogant bitch that taught it to me. I don't need shit from her. I can do fine, better than fine, all on my own.
I pull out my dagger, jumping down into a gravity-assisted stab towards where Stallion lies on the floor, disoriented.
It's at the last moment that I realize I've been aiming at the back of his head, and shift my dagger to the right to land directly into the meat of his shoulder.
The fake-cowboy lets out a pained scream, and I find a vicious smile curled on my face.
I flip up, slamming a foot into his body with a classic Muay Thai strike, flipping him over.
He reaches up, trying to grab my leg, but I nimbly dodge out of the way of his giant, slow-moving, meaty hand.
Looks like there are some advantages to being a "delicate little girl" after all, huh?
I launch a punch directly at his head, aiming to knock him out.
Unfortunately, it seems like the "mildly" bit of "mildly enhanced durability" is putting the work in, and he just rears back with a groan.
I snarl, jabbing again, breaking his nose.
He yells. "FUBK YEW, YEW LIDDL HOAR!"
I slam my fist into his face again, and again. "WHY. WON'T. YOU. FUCKING. JUST. STAY. DOWN!"
He snarls through his broken nose. "YUR FBUNCKIN' NUFFIN! FUNCK YEW!"
I scream in anger, slamming my fist back into his broken nose.
Who's fucking nothing now, you arrogant, condescending bitch!
I only realize I'm yelling that out loud when Stallion growls.
He spits in my face, blood and saliva mixing into the sprinkler-water raining down around us. "FUCNK YEW, LIDDL GURL!"
"I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S A LITTLE FUCKING GIRL!" I scream, slamming another fist into his head. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S FUCKING INCAPABLE"
I grab his hair, slamming his head into my knee. "I JUST TOOK YOU FUCKING DOWN! I TOOK DOWN THE PENGUIN'S SECOND-BEST FUCKING CAPE! YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING LOOK DOWN ON ME!"
He tries to headbutt me.
I let out a shriek of incoherent rage, grabbing his hair and slamming his face through the table.
"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! YOU LYING, TWO-TIMING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S FUCKING NOTHING, NOT-"
It's on the sixth slam that I finally feel him go limp, and I drop his body.
I stare at his limp form, head buried in the destroyed wooden table, my chest heaving.
It's… it's over.
I did it.
I beat him.
I won.
I look at his body, oozing bright red blood from over a dozen wounds, face beaten into a pulp.
I lean over, vomiting.
O-Oh god…
I collapse to the ground, hands clasped around my knees, great sobs wracking my chest.
AN: The summary of the past two chapters can be "turns out Artemis and Argyra are a whole lot more like their parents than either of them would like to admit." There might have been an error w/ SV's threadmark system, so please make sure you've read "White Noise", the other chapter I've posted today.
As always, discussion keeps me motivated, so please let me know what you think.
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Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Seems they're more alike then one assumes. Throwing themselves into bad situations to avoid thinking about it.
LunaMoth
Wings of Kynareth is my comfort song...
- Pronouns
- He/They
I like how they express their frustrations via doing the same things their parents do. Still curious about what's going on with unpowered supers in this setting and why they can train to brute 2.
About that magic prison you mentioned earlier, is it run by people fully within the magical community, or just people who only dable in magic in order to contain magicians. Or would answering be a spoiler.
I like how much this is written to be a superhero comic book drama moment too, it could potentially be solved by a explanation of what the demon cult is/ just a calm conversation: but that's not in either protagonists character.
About that magic prison you mentioned earlier, is it run by people fully within the magical community, or just people who only dable in magic in order to contain magicians. Or would answering be a spoiler.
I like how much this is written to be a superhero comic book drama moment too, it could potentially be solved by a explanation of what the demon cult is/ just a calm conversation: but that's not in either protagonists character.
PrognosticHannya
Far Too Enthusiastic About Etymology
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It's not a spoiler, it's just Belle Reve. I'm making it so that they have means to contain mages as well, using magic-suppressing runic shackles.
Stay tuned! We'll first get inklings of why in Arc 3.