[ SEASON 2 SPOILERS ]
Artemisia Robin had found herself in life-or-death situations many times. More than any common individual. Bullets raining around her, flames tickling her hair, buildings crumbling over them, bombs exploding near, wounds she endured by miracle. The adrenaline in each circumstance had always felt like its maximum. Like it was inconceivable for more hormones to circle in her veins.
She had been mistaken. The overdose that came to her when the car deactivated was incomparable.
Her arms would discolor from crashing into the door before she even clutched the handle. Her legs would be sore from sprinting at exceptional tempo. Gashes would materialize from racing in the forest, branches cutting through her skin. But right then, as she neared the clearing, reaching Rachel, she did not perceive any of them.
The group caught up with her when the trees ceased. Artemisia was frowning at the bare territory ahead. She could vouch, deep in her heart, that Rachel was not far. And yet, there was only greenery forth. No evidence of the farmhouse or Zachary's jeep.
"What the fuck is going on?" The words fell from her mouth, unfiltered. Yeah, her limbs might be better due to the adrenaline. But her brain was still the same. Regular as ever. She could not interpret their setting. Something must be keeping them away from the house.
"The air," Dick muttered. His gaze was tilted up, gawking into the night sky. Robin followed his eyes, lips parting in stupefaction. "It's shimmering. It's right where the house should be."
Robin saw as he pushed onward, holding his hand in front of him. Kory called after him, warning him to stay away from that dubious haze. But that only pushed him ahead. He took an intense drag and started running.
"Dick, wait!"
It was too late. He took one decisive action and shut that distance between him and the shimmering. Only to find himself drunk by the unique phenomenon. He had gotten through.
"Come on," Donna rushed after her friend, Zach sprinting beside her. Just like Dick, they reached the blur, but rather than slipping through, they were repelled. Hauled back by immense force, both heroes fell on the grass. "Dick got through. Why can't we?"
Kory dashed past Artemisia. She stopped right before the frontier. Her hand slowly rose, extending towards the shimmer. It settled flat on the surface. She pulled away and attempted to smash it. Her fist ricocheted. Every one of their experiments were ineffective. Only Dick had been allowed in.
Dick. Their self-assigned leader. Who was now gone. Again. And to Artemisia, it only meant one thing: havoc. The last thing they needed. She reckoned there was a way to evade it. Or hold it back for some while.
"Okay, we need to try something else," she snatched the reins of the team― hell, was this group of three strangers even a team? "We can't walk in. Human or alien, this field won't let us through. There was a factor that allowed Dick to enter."
Kory tossed her eyes at her attempt. So, one rein gone. How long could a horseman guide a cart lacking one reining? "I don't care about factors, I'm blasting my way in."
Fire shot through her hands. She focused all of that fury and confusion into the field that kept them apart from both teenagers and Dick. But just like her punches, they did not have any impact. The dome hardly dented under her heavy pressure.
Donna and Zach had gotten back up, rubbing off the green trail on their clothing. Unlike Kory, they were inclined to give Robin's deducing a chance.
"Kory's got powers, you have powers, I have powers," Donna started to pinpoint, trying her hardest to excuse the bounce. She glared in Kory's direction before turning to Zach. "Do you have powers?" The man shook his head. He was as simple as any other person. "Damn it, I really thought I had it."
"How about weapons? Maybe the force field won't let us through because of that―"
"Nope," Donna discontinued Zach. Another idea, another waste. "Dick's always got a gun on him. Even if it's shoved right up his ass. There's always a weapon."
Their incoherent words ceased for a second, enabling the rest of the world to have an instant of idiocy. Kory's fire had caught their attention. It was powerful, possibly draining. There was no response from the field. It continued glistening, keeping them out.
"Maybe it's got nothing to do with anything," Donna sighed in frustration. "Maybe he was just lucky to arrive first. It could have been me or any of you." The grunts from Kory did not stop coming. She snapped towards the black woman, exasperate. "Would you just stop blasting it? You're wasting all your power!"
Kory postponed her actions, turning to look at Donna. She panted, overworked. "Rachel. . . is in there. Anything. . . could be happening. . . to her."
"Says the woman who was sent here to kill her," Donna retorted. Zach and Robin shared an uncertain glance. An argument was the last thing they needed. They had to clean their minds and solve this dilemma. "Now that she and Dick are in there with some intergalactic demon, maybe you could try something that might actually work."
"Okay, girls, let's stop fighting each other and focus that anger on the force field that's keeping us away from those we care about," Artemisia tried to resonate. Their rival was behind that shimmery barrier, not among them.
Kory held her hand up to silence her. "No, let her speak, Robin. Something that might work, like what? Or were you just hoping the sheer force of your criticism would save her?"
"At least I'm not draining my powers just because I can't sit still," Donna spat back.
Artemisia Robin rolled back to her friend, expecting he'd help her end this discussion. In the back, the two parallel people were still bickering at each other. It constantly dabbed her on the shoulder, persuading her to join the debate. "Please, just do anything. I'm beg― what the hell?"
A car stopped on the road beside them, its lights dazzling Robin. She drew her hand up, covering her sore eyes. And then, both beacons switched off. White splotches blotted her vision.
"Hey, don't stop on my account!" The vehicle's doors shut. There were three people. And that voice― "I like where that was heading!"
"Jason?" Kory and Robin asked in unison, something close to a smile stretching on their lips. They were just pleased to see someone. Another hand to aid them.
"Who?" Zach muttered to his friend.
Jason paced closer to them. Unsurprisingly, he was styling his Robin uniform with pretension. Of course, he would find any opportunity to wear it. "That's right! The goddamn cavalry has arrived."
"What the fuck is that?" Donna motioned towards the grown teenager, an expression of repulsion on her face. Jason made a face under his guise. "And why is it wearing Dick's costume?"
He went to respond when another stronger, and louder voice spoke over his confidence. "The annoying Robin," Hank explained.
If he was here, did that mean―
"Who are your friends?" Dawn's voice was as pure as ever. And healthful. She sounded so well. Like nothing had occurred at all. Her physical traumas faded in a blink. Artemisia wished to sprint ahead and hug her, but the seriousness of the moment gripped her back. She just delivered a smile, which the blonde woman repaid.
"Guys, this is Zach Lewis and Kory Anders," Artemisia notified their new additions. Even if they'd seen one another for a couple of days, she had cherished them as friends, and had certainly missed them. Even Jason. Sort of.
"She's an alien," Donna added with no sentiments. As though she were exposing someone of fraud. Kory scowled at her. She only rose her shoulders. "What? It's true."
"You could put a little more love into that," the alien sighed before turning back to the trio that had just arrived. She summoned a polite smile. "Well, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."
"Why are you guys here?" Asked Donna, pushing her hands on her pockets.
Hank bounced his head towards his girlfriend, "Rachel got inside of her head at the hospital, woke her up from the coma or some weird shit." He got comprehensive hums in reply. Soon followed by a break of silence. Only then, they noticed the shimmer in the air made curious, moist sounds.
"She's in there, isn't she?" Dawn's voice drowned out the disgusting noises. Donna replied to her friend with a soft yeah, almost resembling the blonde's calm tone.
Another interlude. More whirling sounds. Then, Hank's brutal voice. "So, what the fuck is going on here?"
Kory stepped closer to the group of strangers and clarified what they learned about Rachel's dad. She did not forget to add Angela's deception, suggesting in some way, she had to be taken out, too. Their moods became blue with the mention of Earth's downfall. It even affected those who already knew. Things were starting to sink in. The world's destiny was in their hands. "Trigon can truly inhabit our world after he breaks Rachel's heart," she finished.
"We're talking metaphor, right?" Dawn queried softly. It seemed like she could not physically recognize darkness would take over this planet.
"We don't know." Donna rubbed her forehead anxiously. "But if we don't get through that force field and into that house in there, I'm afraid we're never gonna find out."
Hank huffed, squinting his eyes towards the barrier that kept them out. "Kid should've asked us to get fucking Superman."
"So, what do you need me to do?" Jason broke through their confusion, cracking his knuckles and neck. He moved on his spot, apparently warming up for a fight. The adults who brought him shook their heads, lamenting their decision.
Artemisia could barely feel for the boy. He was full of energy and careless. The rest of the world seemed to not matter. Only himself. "Maybe stay back and let the adults handle it?" She suggested, copying Donna and shoving her hands into the pockets of her pants. Jason looked hurt. At least he matched their moods now. Then she broke into a grin. "I'm just kidding. We have no idea what to do."
He chuckled at her joke, though his expression would not leave her senses for a long while. Some seconds passed before he was chirping again. "Have you tried 'open sesame'?" His fingers waved towards the force field.
The most fantastic thing occurred. It made them question their opinions about the teenager just for a flash. Had he really― no. The shimmering atmosphere had burst into a light, growing wider and stronger with each instant. It lengthened toward the soil like an entrance. And it stayed, waiting for them to come in.
Jason's jaw was on the ground. Wide eyes gawking at his fingers. He looked at the group, then the gate, his fingers, and back to his colleagues. "What the fuck. Did I just do that? Did you all see that?"
"Don't get too confident, kid," Hank cackled at his reaction, concealing the fact that the idea struck his mind. That the desire to whack the kid had vanished for a blink. His hand cupped the boy's shoulder pads, giving it a strong pat. "Someone's inviting us in."
"Invitation accepted!" Jason smiled excitedly, strolling past the couple with his chest puffed out.
"Yeah, that's a no." Artemisia clutched him by his cape, twisting the fabric on her grip. He was forced to face her. "Just hold on a second. Are we doing this?" She addressed the rest of the group.
Donna thought for a second before electing. "I don't see any other option."
Kory agreed with her, nodding along her words. Soon, her reaction was followed by Jason and Zach. The couple looked at one another, communicating with just their eyes. They turned to Robin and bobbed their heads.
Artemisia blew out some air, brushing her hands together. They were doing it. Wandering into the unknown. Facing a beast that could probably mince them with their thumb. But this was for Rachel. For Gar. For Dick.
"Well, see you on the other side."
She was the first to move. A slight hesitation before taking the decisive step, just like Dick had done. Her body was consumed in white pitch. And soon was her vision. Artemisia Robin lost control of her body and plunged into something. She could not tell. It was all a blur of numbness.
And then, nothing at all.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Artemisia Robin Lee was proud to declare she was very normal, thank you very much. She did everything in her power to obscure those aspects that would mud her ideal character. People thought she was the perfect civilian, always obeying rules and lending a hand to others. Oh, what a great, nasty lie. What laws she did not break by day, she would do by night, double the number.
But when she found herself standing in a moving carriage, bursting out of thin air, people were beginning to suspect her carcass. How would a normal individual appear before them like a ghost? She had to be involved in some sort of dark magic. Whispers rose in the common area, gazes directed at her.
Frowning at her unexpected arrival, she nudged past people. She needed to run away from there, escape. A crumb of her brain claimed she had to do something essential. She could not reckon what. Someone needed saving. Or something. There was no record in her memory other than who she was, what she did, and. . . and. . . Nothing else. She did not recall her purpose on this train.
Her intuitions had never failed her. So she heeded to them. Her feet pulled her into a less frequented place, disguising her from curious glances. It was a dim corridor, brown velvet under her boots. There was a door every two meters, small compartments to spend the ride. Though, Artemisia did not know what their destination was.
The hairs in the back of her neck rose, signaling some type of danger. Her head tilted just enough to catch a shadow standing in a corner. It was gaping right at her. So much for staying out of sight. The once-great strategy could become her doom.
She started to get nervous. Her fist clenched by her side. One breath in, then hold the air. She had to calm down, her mind functioned better that way. Gust it all out. One more repeat and she found her mind cleared. The figure lingered far, yet growing more menacing with each second.
Turning back into that common area would be a mistake. But so was staying alone. She took one step, deeper into the hall. The figure stayed in place, though she doubted it would for much longer.
Still regulating her breathing, Artemisia began to take more steps. Her hand reached for the first compartment on the right, jerking on the handle to find it locked. She moved a step to the left, trying her luck once more. Also sealed.
Focusing on her breathing, trying to tranquilize her razing senses as she continued failing to find a safe place. Her feet strode faster with each closed door. There were not many left. If none of these were open, well, she preferred not to think about it. Stay optimistic. Continue trying.
Her gaze flickered ahead. Only six doors more. Stumbling to a side, she tried her fortune on the left. The handle was stuck just like every single one before it. Five left. Tumbling to the right, she attempted the same. This time, the door budged, opening itself and revealing two women sitting inside.
They both looked up. Artemisia did not even bother to muster their faces, locking herself with them. Her back pushed against the timber. She was panting with delight. And now, she did look. Her eyes melted into that familiar face. Round features, doe eyes, and tanned skin. The girl stood up, examining Artemisia's traits.
"Dianna?"
"Robin?"
"H-how?" Artemisia grabbed both of the girl's sides, shaking her slightly. Lately, she had a tough time believing in her mind. The teen felt warm, real. "How's this possible?"
The third woman in the room got to her feet. She had a long face that made her look serious. It reminded Artemisia of Marge, this lady's daughter. "Why wouldn't this be possible?"
"I―" Dianna swallowed her words. She turned to Artemisia Robin with pleading eyes. There was no need to say any word, yet the woman understood. Dianna remembered the incident, her passing, but her mother did not. She had been stuck in this loophole where she enjoyed more time with her mother. Time that had been stolen from them. "I don't know, mamá." Dianna's hand clasped hers. "Let's go talk in the hallway, Robin."
Dianna headed for the door and pulled it open. Artemisia exited right behind her. As soon as she did, her gaze snapped to the end of the hall, searching for that shadow that unnerved her only seconds ago. But the corner was bare. Feeling at ease, she returned her awareness to her long-lost friend.
"Why are you here? How are you here?" Two hands gripped her shoulders. Dianna had a stare of distress engraved across her sweet expressions. But as Artemisia struggled to explain, it grew even darker. "Robin, listen to me. Did you die?"
"No, I. . ." She saw a glimpse of something. Encircled by people, their faces darkened. There was a white portal in front of her. It was calling her in. And she had stepped through. Had she died? Was that her mind's way of handling death? "I don't know. I don't remember."
Her confusion did not soothe Dianna. She kept kneading Artemisia's shoulders, finding some comfort in the simple action. "Okay, then we need to get you out of here."
"Is that possible?"
The girl gulped. Her eyes twinkled under the warm lights. "I don't know, I never tried it. We should get to the nearest door and get you down before it all explodes." Her head cracked towards the left, where Artemisia had come through.
It might not be a great idea to walk back into that area. People would recognize her and impede she got down. Maybe it was their chore to ensure Artemisia's end, sentencing to death on both realms.
Dianna gasped loudly, tearing up. Her gaze stayed on that wooden door with the frosted glass. Following her gaze, Artemisia saw a figure. "The Joker's here," she mumbled. Absolute panic crossed her face at the contour of the pretend trolley lady. With each passing second, it grew darker, closer.
"Isn't he always here, in the accident?" Artemisia intended to keep her calm. But even she knew his presence meant the clock was ticking. There wasn't much time to play around.
At last, Dianna's gaze tore from the door. She let out a shaky breath, holding onto her friend tightly. "Yes, but I've never seen him." She swallowed. Her mouth had gone arid with fear. "I'm always inside the room with my mom. I thought he only showed up for that moment."
Artemisia frowned. She had never stepped out of that compartment? Never took the time to wander around? Had she realized just then, that this was not her personal inferno?
Her hands braced around the girl's wrist with sympathy. She understood. Dianna had not walked out to spend more time with her mother. Or at least, an idea of her. Part of her spirit that persisted on Earth. "No, Dianna. The whole train is filled with people. Everyone from that night is here."
The words should have whacked her in the heart. Make the young woman feel awful for the trapped souls in the train. Just like her and her mother. But she did not feel blue. Redness crawled into her face. Not the cute kind, like when you have your first kiss or even brush hands with somebody. It was like a bomb. About to detonate.
"Oh, I'm gonna make him pay for this!" Dianna cried out, her body tensing between steps. She began hurrying towards that door that currently safeguarded them from the green-haired villain.
"Wait!" Artemisia attempted to snatch her hand but the girl was quite fast. She slipped through her fingers.
The door was ripped open. It crashed against the dark walls. The sound echoed in the hallway. People veered around at such booming. Dianna was their initial sight. Both fists clamped at her sides, scowling at one sole figure. A man hunched over a trolley, delivering food to the passengers. Her expression was enough to bring silence into the wagon.
She had not said a word. Her feet strode ahead, body tightening in wrath. Passengers stepped out of her way, disturbed. Dianna paid them no attention. She only cared for one of them. The one who planned on slaughtering every single individual sat there.
Dianna seized the man's uniform, dragging a brown wig along. His real hair was exposed. Fresh green as artificial grass. He fought under her hold, staring at his attacker with forged anxiety.
Artemisia was able to walk into the common area without a person turning to her. But soon, that would change. She had to stop her friend from doing something she might repent. . . Or did she? The man was a psychopath after all. It would be adequate to kill him then. . . No. Artemisia wanted no additional casualties. Even for somebody like the Joker.
The green-haired man slammed against the crimson carpet below their feet. Dianna crouched over him, planting her bones into his fragile ones. He moaned at the simple action. If only he knew what came next―
Not a single thought could have gone through anyone's head before the girl whacked the criminal right on his nose. Of course, they also did not know he was a criminal. If anything, in their eyes, she was the one to be put down. That was also something they did not dare to do. So, every soul stood there, staring with terror.
Dianna's fist kept crashing against the man's face. She did not take a break. Curses fled her lips along with tears. Subdued sentiments spurting with the opportunity. She was the only one who recalled his actions. The lone passenger whose spirit was tied to the outside world. Robin was her anchor to that despicable memory.
The crowd broke a second time. Up ahead, a tall, black man in uniform pushed his way through people. Artemisia proceeded forward cautiously at the presence of a firearm. No one knew what could happen if someone died before their time. And she did not want to find out through losing Dianna.
Blood squirted on the ground; on her fists and face. It was all a mess. Dianna did not seem to mind. And the nearing security did not help loosen her manic. As he came close enough, she smacked the gun out of his grip, fingers cracking. With the left hand, she seized the weapon, pointing it at him. Her other fingers twined around the weapon, one directed towards the trigger.
With no delay, she pulled it. More blood coated her skin. Nothing would stop her from getting vengeance. The guard fell, clenching his wounded knee. Artemisia looked at him with horror, frozen.
A cry came from the Joker. The Asian woman regained control of her muscles, turning to look at the bloody scene, instead. A gun had been located between his brows, gouging into his skin.
"Dianna, no!" Artemisia wailed. The path cleared once more. She gently walked in it, reaching out a hand, aiming to grab the gun from her grip. Dianna glared at her through the nook of her eye. "Listen to me. I know you want revenge. But believe me, from someone who's sought it, too; it is not worth it."
Dianna's grasp fluttered. She pushed deeper to camouflage her hesitation. The man whimpered. Green streaks stuck to his forehead from the amount of sweating.
Artemisia Robin proceeded to move closer, focusing on the movements of her hand. One sharp effort and the gun would be in her hands. "The pain doesn't go away like this. Time heals. Pulling that trigger will only make things worse for you, trust me!"
"Worse than being dead?" Dianna finally looked away, though the weapon stayed seated between the man's eyebrows. Her voice rattled with anguish. "Than being stuck here for years, watching my mom die all over again?"
Artemisia had no other alternative than to lie. She couldn't possibly compare those pains. Her mother was still alive. "Yes." She took another pace towards the pair. "Killing these people who have wronged us only makes them stronger. Their hold on you tightens. Even after they're dead. Please, put the gun down."
Dianna broke into a fit of sobs. The weapon skimming over the sweat. She tried to put it back into place. "I don't want to see her dying anymore! It breaks my heart every single time!" A hiccup. More tears streaming down her cheeks. "And then she faces me like nothing had happened, because, in her mind, nothing has! There's nothing more painful than that. I'm tired of it. . ."
Her body collapsed to a side, lowering from the criminal's ribs. Painful moans escaped her aching throat. The firearm fell from her clutch.
Artemisia scrambled closer, taking the pistol and pulling one of Dianna's arm. She was about to tug her into a safe hug when the gun unexpectedly heaved on the other hand. The girl crawled herself away, leaning against one of the seats. She did not acknowledge the actions, too enchanted by the power given to her. One single tug and it could terminate a life.
The Joker shuffled back to his butt, reaching for his back pockets. But for a second time, he stiffened. Wide eyes returned to his pale complexion. The gun was once more pointed at him.
Maybe he did deserve to be murdered. A maniac who ran loose would bring so much disarray to Gotham. Artemisia knew this for a fact. This scaled attack was not his final move. He will continue to outgrow himself, astound everyone with his twisted brain. But this wasn't real. Shooting him right then would not make a difference. He will still torment the real world.
Her finger fell into that little space, irking to be curled with strength. Artemisia could not combat that need.
Killing him was immoral.
Killing him was useless.
Killing him would not alter the events.
Artemisia shut her eyes. Five shots escaped the gun. Cries filled the wagon once more. Her finger yanked on the trigger, even when the barrel clicked empty. Her hands were twitching, nearly dropping the weapon completely.
Her eyes opened with reluctance. Devil eyes stared back at her with awe. Smoke swelled between them. Five distinct holes charred through the carpet. The gun fell from her hold, plunging empty to the floor. She had saved him. Why? What held her back?
It was the right thing to do. Prison would have served him better. She should remember to tell Batman ―or should she say Bruce Wayne― to let him rot rather than a rapid death.
But her principles were questioned when the man grabbed something from his pocket. She barely had time to recognize what it was. Explosions burst from the wagons before them. They staggered to the side.
Artemisia fell back into the carpet. Her eyes squeezed in pain. Every inch felt on fire ―it possibly was. And flashes later, it turned into nothingness.
The texture below ached her bare arms. She reached to rub that annoying itch, only to discover her fingers intertwined with grass. Her eyes opened in fear. Above, the moon welcomed her. The shade of the farmhouse kept her concealed.
She had made it.