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Breakfast with Dad and Jade was like pulling teeth without anesthetic, except all of the screams were happening on the inside. It was written all over everybody's face except Dad's.
Jade hid her anger and insecurities under her smarmy barbs and one-liners, but Dad was a brick wall. You could never tell if you were one mont away from a rare complint or another sparring lesson.
"How long has it been since we've all been at the table like this?" Dad asked in a monotone voice. He was t by pin-drop silence. He looked over to Mom, who avoided his gaze, while Jade thodically cut into her pancake and slid a chunk into her mouth.
"Not bad, little sister," she broke the silence. "You've improved."
"You get a lot of practice when your older sister abandons you," I said, taking a sip of orange juice. Jade didn't so much as flinch, dipping another forkful of pancake in syrup and biting down.
"Haven't the slightest idea what you an," she said.
My grip around my fork tightened. I rember that night she reappeared after months of absence and asked to feed her. She promised she'd replace what she ate. She knew what Dad would do to , but she disappeared anyway.
I hadn't seen her since that night, and Dad beat until I pissed blood.
My fist slamd onto the table before I could catch myself, and I stared straight at him.
Lawrence Crock—the man who raised . The greatest source of pain and trauma in my life.
"Artemis?" Mom called in her soft voice.
"What the hell is going on?" I demanded, my gaze sweeping the table. "Are we just going to sit here and pretend like we're one big happy family?"
"Well, you didn't last long at all," Jade said, cutting into more pancakes.
"Your mother and I have been speaking," he began—
"Since when?" It was pretty well-established how they felt about each other. It was a miracle they were in the sa room at all.
"And what's she doing here?" I pointed at Jade, who still ignored .
"We're running a job together for a big client," Lawrence said evenly. "It will help get my hands on a serum that will help your mother walk again."
My rage was there one second and gone the next. "That's not—"
"Possible?" Jade asked, finally looking up. "In a world of alien supern, ta-humans, and magic, you really think a cure is that outlandish?"
"When you put it like that…" I looked directly at Mom and saw a spark of sothing there—hope mixed with understandable concern.
"It is the least I could do for Paula," Lawrence declared with a hint of emotion on his ageless face. "She lost five years because of . I'd like to give her her life back."
I gritted my teeth. "Stop talking as if there's sothing wrong with her. Mom is fine just the way she is."
"But she could be perfect," Lawrence pressed. "I've had to be rehabilitated three tis during my career, and the months I spent in a wheelchair were so of the worst of my life. She's been in that chair for five years." He gestured to Mom like she wasn't there, and she didn't fight him.
"Don't limit your mother because of your pride."
"Pride!" I huffed. "You can't just co in here and—"
"Artemis," Mom called softly. "They're here because they're going forward with the mission and would like your help."
I blinked. "—why?"
"Just thought you'd be happy to put all that training to use," Jade said. "Not like you do much except hang out with that idiot boyfriend of yours and go to school."
My cheeks flushed red. "You've been spying on ?!"
Jade rolled her eyes. "Please. Watching paint dry is more stimulating than your love life."
Ugh. She made want to throttle her.
"Artemis," Dad called, his voice with the slightest edge. "This is what is right for your mother. It's what you're trained for." His eyes bore into mine. "Will you join us?"
My heart fluttered. I knew Mom wanted this just as much as Lawrence and Jade did. With the childhood we had, it should've taken an act of God to get Jade and Dad in a room together. And I supposed this was what this was…
But then I rembered the conversation I had with Mom last night. Her words rang in my ears.
…Price to pay.
They were both ready to pay it, but was I? Was Mom?
She'd remained withdrawn the entire ti we spoke, perhaps more content with just watching than participating as her fate was decided.
I'd always hated it when I was younger. And I wasn't about to do the sa to Mom.
"What do you want, Mom?" I asked. "Dad and Jade have been going on about what's right, but neither has asked you what you actually wanted."
Mom looked up, her expression complicated.
"I just want you to be safe," she said after a long while.
Of course, she did.
She'd be a hypocrite otherwise.
But I could never forgive myself if I didn't hear my father out at least, even though I was pretty certain he and Jade were working an angle I couldn't see.
–
I muffled a grunt as Avery reset my shoulder and popped it into a sling.
"What did I say about coming back here injured?" Avery asked, a tight frown on her perfect face.
"Maybe I couldn't stay away." I grinned at her, though she couldn't see it clearly. She lowered an overhead light to take a closer look at my neck wounds and battered chest, which was already healing.
"Or maybe you got in the ring with a fighter who's been fighting longer than you've been alive and got your ass kicked," she retorted.
"You watched my match, huh?" I asked, glancing at her. Her eyes remained on my injuries. "I feel bad for the patients who went untreated just because you wanted to watch fight."
Avery didn't react. "I was on break, and the fights can be entertaining, even if I don't approve of them."
"At least tell you made so money?"
"I don't speculate," she said, finally looking up into my mask. There was a beat of silence before she continued. "Can you take off your shirt? I'd like to fully assess the extent of your injuries—maybe get a few scans. You could have internal bleeding. I'm not sure how your mutation would handle that."
"I should be fine," I said as I pulled off my shirt. "But if it'd give you peace of mind, I'll show you, doc."
She sucked in a sharp breath when she saw my upper body.
I was pretty jacked now.
My biceps were easily twice their size when all of this started, and my abs had freakish definition. I needed more calories. All this fighting and regeneration was burning through my fat reserves like a bonfire.
Avery's eyes lingered slightly before she gingerly pressed against my wounds. My body was covered in them.
"Looks like mostly superficial bruising," she said. "But I'd recomnd taking it easy for a day while your shoulder heals."
"Sounds perfect," I said, slipping my shirt back on. "I've got a day till my next fight. Might as well explore."
"Try the restaurants," she suggested. "They make the best dishes in Gotham."
I made a face. "I'll… uh… take your word for it. Maybe you can show your favorite ones."
"Oh." Avery tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down. "I don't, uh—"
"Date patients?" I asked. "You know, fighting in the underground isn't a permanent thing."
"You're just a bit too young for ," she said.
"Understandable…" I smiled. "Maybe I'll call you in two years." I backed out of the d bay, my eyes lingering on her before I turned to leave.
"Maybe," I faintly heard her say before I turned the corner.
I wove through the corridors and pathways, navigating dozens of people. Most didn't know , but a few did. So stared, others cheered, and one particularly disgruntled bettor actually ca at .
"You that Negative twerp. I lost ten grand because of you."
We were in front of the collection booths.
"And you'll lose sothing more permanent if you don't step the fuck back from the fighter, spectator," one of Ivy's loyal gang mbers barked, his hand resting on the side of his assault weapon.
The offended spectator's eyes bulged. He was a balding middle-aged man with a beer gut, dressed in clothes that were way too tight.
"Been coming here since the beginning. You really gonna pick so one-fight wonder's side over mine?"
"Yup," Sally said, stepping forward. The growing crowd parted for her. "You know the rules, and this is your second warning, Penn. You won't get a third."
The man looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Least I know I'll make my money back on your next fight. Your fighting career is done with that bum shoulder," he laughed as he waddled away.
Sally spat to the side once he was gone, nudging in my healed hand. "Co on. Let's collect your winnings. Penn might be an asshole, but he's right. Just your fucking luck—getting paired with a martial expert on your very first fight."
"Believe it or not, worse things have happened," I grunted.
She gave a sidelong glance as we stepped up to the attendant.
"Mr. Negative. Would you like to collect your total winnings? $7,000 in total, or wager it on an upcoming fight?"
"Give half now, put the rest towards my next fight."
Sally blinked at but left it uncomnted and collected her winnings—$9,000 in total.
We walked back the way we ca when I first entered the underground, passing vendors, restaurants, bars, and training centers.
"You're either the bravest idiot I've ever t or absolutely delusional."
"I'd like to think I'm a mix of both, with just a dash of mad genius," I laughed.
She snorted. "So you're one of those battle freaks. There are easier ways to die, you know?"
"I've shrugged off worse," I said with a shrug.
"I very much doubt that," she said, eyeing suspiciously.
"Was willing to bet half my bag on it," I said. "If I had more money, I would've probably risked more."
She eyed again, glancing at my neck and shoulder. Then her eyes widened as understanding dawned.
"Oh shit," she whispered. "You're a ta. You might actually win this whole thing."
---
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