Mary’s eyes locked with Artemis’. Her hunters continued to kneel, Canary continued to heal, and questions continued to buzz inside her skull. How the hell had she lived? Not only had Mary slit her throat, but she’d set her body on fire and buried her, too. And yet there she stood, proud and tall and with a ferocious aura resonating around her.

I’m not here to cause trouble, she signed with one hand.

“Several years too late for that.” Mary tensed at the crack of her wire thread snapping against her sharp nails when Artemis clenched her fingers. “Stand down, Number One. You’re smart enough to understand that you hold no advantage over us.”

The Hunters of Artemis stood as one, and Mary felt like she’d been swallowed by their shadows. And she stood her ground but knew that she was fucked. Far too many of them stood poised and ready to pin her to the concrete with those metal arrows of theirs. The arrows wouldn’t kill her, but they’d slow her down, and that would mean certain death. And Artemis being here only served to make everything worse.

She glanced down at Canary—the bullet was halfway out her skull, and she saw the twitch of her fingers.

Mary sighed, brushed her hair back with her fingerless hand—which had gone numb from far too much pain—and shrugged. Fine, she signed. Guess you win. Lock me up and kill me. She stuck out her arms, wrists facing up towards the starless sky.

Artemis’ fine eyes narrowed until they became slits. She held up a hand, stopping the few who’d come closer. “Voluntary surrender? Don’t insult me any further. Jericho, are you prepared?”

“Yes ma’am,” a wispy voice said behind Mary, startling her.

She didn’t have time to react.

A metal rod smacked the base of her neck, and her body convulsed with burning pain. Electricity shot through her body and made her shriek. It felt like being burnt alive whilst her skin was torn off her bones and every twitch of a single muscle sent her into a violent spasm.

It may have lasted an hour or a second, but to M,ary it was an eternity. And when it finally came to an end, she collapsed, her fingers involuntarily twitching. Her mouth tasted like burnt rubber. Blood lined her lips, smoke filled her lungs, and a whining noise rang in her ears. Her body felt like lead. Too heavy to move. Mary tried to blink and continued staring at Artemis’ heels striding towards her.

Her heel pressed into the side of her head as Artemis came to a stop. The woman crouched and grabbed Mary’s collar. Her head lolled back and forth, and it took everything she had to even concentrate on what Artemis was saying, let alone try to stay awake.

“---should have kept your soul in hell,” Artemis was saying. Her words slithered through the howling in her ears. “And now look at you. It’s a wonder to even think that all two hundred and ninety nine of us feared you. That we thought you were the be-all-end-all of our worlds. Pathetic. The Doctor should have kept you on your leash.”

Mary spluttered as she tried to swallow with a too-dry throat.

“Tell me,” she said, lowering her voice, “is it him who sent you on your mission? Was it that godforsaken man trying to cleanse his soul from his greatest sin of creating you by sending his own child to wipe this planet clean of you all?”

Her hand shook as she raised it.

Why… Why would I answer the questions of someone so far below me? Mary smiled at her. You’re no hunter. You’re a scared little girl playing pretend. Hell, you’re hardly even a Spartan.

Artemis’ face remained intense. Her lips became a scowl, her grip on Mary’s collar tightened, and her heart beat loud enough to be heard over the fading ring in Mary’s ears.

She drew a knife from a pouch by her boot and plunged it into Mary’s side. As soon as she was about to scream, Artemis grabbed her throat and stopped her from breathing. She gagged and choked and tried to claw at her arm, but Artemis didn’t let go. Twisting the blade deeper, Mary felt cold blood running down her side soaking her clothes. Hammering heartbeats pounded against the side of her skull as she tried to gasp for air. Any air. Something to keep herself awake.

“You mistake it,” Artemis said, standing up. She lifted Mary, her hand tightening around her throat until her nails drew blood. Mary’s head swam, and her kicks and punches became more and more pathetic as her world began to darken. “I do not wish to be a Spartan. A human being would never want to devolve into an ape. Poorly created, falsely used, and futility brimming in your eyes. You were the first of a new age, and what a destructive one you’ve brought upon this earth.” She pulled Mary closer, now limp and weak and hardly able to listen or feel. “And after I’ve dealt with you, I will find the rest of your kind and end this age of blood.”

Mary didn’t know what happened next, but she suddenly found herself on the tarmac with her face pressed against the ground. Hacking coughs racked her body, her throat burning with each. She blinked and wondered what had happened to Artemis, but when she looked up, she winced and held up a hand to block rainfall. No, not rain. Blood.

When her vision cleared and she had enough strength to put weight on her elbow, Mary’s eyes widened at the sight of Artemis’ neck profusely bleeding and pumping blood down her white cloak. A chunk of the muscle next to her neck was missing, and when she put a hand on the river of crimson going down her torso, Artemis finally showed an emotion: fear.

And Mary was more confused than anything. With the knife still in her side, she could hardly crawl, let alone stand. She hadn’t done that, and neither had Canary, whose wound had completely healed and now lay against the crumpled car alongside the stunning blonde woman. So who…

“Darn,” a voice said. Similar to Jericho’s, but… childish. Playful. “Looks like I missed. Stay still this time, lady.”

The hunters fell around Artemis, and the voice hiding in the shadows of the surrounding buildings giggled. A burst of manic laughter followed, high-pitched and squealing. Like this was all a game. Like whoever that was couldn’t contain their excitement of trying to find an opening to hit Artemis. She was healing, as all Spartan’s did, but far slower than any of her dead brothers and sisters. They were trying to stop the bleeding, others watched the shadows and whispered orders to each other, and Mary took her cue and began crawling towards Canary.

A hand clamped onto her leg. Glancing down, she saw the man with dread’s from before

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he slurred.

The laughter in the darkness grew. A few hunters shot into empty building windows, but the hysteria echoed in the silent street.

Mary tried to kick him, but it was too weak and far too wide. He got onto his knees, pressed a hand to the side of his head to steady himself, and scowled at her as he reached for his black knives.

“Apollo!” the short woman from before snapped. “Lady Artemis is injured, an unknown—“

Apollo darted towards Mary.

Canary tackled him, rolled, and flipped him over her shoulder. His head whacked against the concrete, and he screamed and curled into a ball. The sound was gut wrenching, but Mary didn’t care. She was too panicked at the sight of a Canary that didn’t have those doe eyes from before. These were the eyes of a Spartan. She stood like one, she had the regality of one, and Mary dragged herself away from her as she began walking towards her.

The laughter suddenly stopped, the hunter’s became silent, and even Canary paused. Mary froze. There was something in the air. Something that prickled the back of her neck and made her skin itch. A girl walked out from behind a building wearing a flowery black funeral dress, with an umbrella opened above her and skipping along the street. But that was impossible. That little girl shouldn’t even exist.

Because the little girl looked exactly how Mary did when she was younger.

“Hello,” she said, bouncing on her heels. Her grin was wide, and face speckled with blood. Now that Mary counted the hunters around Artemis, they were a few down. Ten, maybe. How? Mary hadn’t even heard them scream. “Please could you let her go?” She pointed at Mary with hands covered in colorful finger paint. “That would make me happy.”

Artemis looked at Mary. “An assailant of yours? You managed to replicate yourself?”

“How did you do that?” Canary whispered. “I thought Spartan’s couldn’t sire children.”

Mary, too choked by confusion, shook her head in disbelief at the girl. It was like staring in a mirror, only that this mirror was covered in too much blood and the smile she put on wasn’t real and her teeth too sharp. Finding an ounce of strength, she got to her knees, and stared at herself.

Who are you?

She swayed her little dress. “Now, that doesn’t matter. All I’m here for, is to make sure these mean hunters don’t stop your mission.” The girl took a step forward, and the hunters tensed and drew their bows. But their aggression wasn’t there. They couldn’t possibly kill a child, they worked for someone, possibly the government, so they had some kind of morality they couldn’t cross.

The little girl didn’t care about any of that.

She dropped her umbrella, and darted forward. She picked up Apollo’s knives and weaved through the bolts of metal the hunters shot at her. A few broke rank, and ran towards her. Mary marveled as the girl flipped over the first two, slit the back of their knees, and plunged the blades into their opens maws when they fell backwards. And as she continued to slash and cut and bathe in blood, she gleefully giggled. She spun and danced like she was performing. On her toes and heels and making sure her dress flew around her body as she lunged to attack and dodge to avoid.

Until the short woman with the large bow shot her shoulder. She was spun around by the force, and fell to the ground.

“Move any further and we shall put you down as we did your counterpart.” She glanced behind her. “Lady Artemis, your orders?”

“Kill it, and take her body along with Canary and Jaeger’s.”

“I…” The child stood and swayed. She pulled the arrow from her shoulder and let it clatter to the ground. Her wound healed almost instantly. “I’m sorry. My bed time is soon, and I don’t have permission to go out tonight.” She grinned. “But I still have time to play, and you have enough space on your neck to draw another smile across it.”

The woman with a bow shot off two arrows, and the child was hit with both. One in the thigh and another in the shoulder. Only wobbling a little, she ran towards the woman. Stringing her bow onto her back, she took a fighting stance and caught the child in the air with a kick to her side.

Before the woman could pick up the girl struggling to get to her feet, Mary yanked the blade out of her side and threw it at her. The blade sliced across her cheek, and she jumped back from the girl.

The girl got onto her feet, wincing slightly. “Thanks big sis, but you should hurry. Kill Canary and slaughter Shogun, break Gunslinger’s spine and hang Luck!” She wildly smiled at the woman, biting the corner of her lip like she couldn’t wait to keep fighting, and ran towards her with her knives slicing through the air.

Mary clamped a hand to her wound. She damned herself for healing so slowly compared to other Spartans. Being the first came with its advantages, but she was as near a prototype as could be. Didn’t matter, though. She had to get Canary, who… crouched and looped her arm around her shoulder, helping her up.

“We’ll get you help,” she said, determination in her voice. “Just keep on your feet.”

What was she—

Canary pulled her to the ground, and Mary watched strands of her hair float to the pavement in front of her. Artemis had gauze around her neck, and she was now all alone. The rest of her hunters were engaged with the little girl, who was cheering them on as they tried to kill and catch her. But she continued to leap around, avoiding their arrows and knives and with her hearty laughter, she seemed to be having the time of her life.

“Stop,” Artemis said. “A step further, and I’ll make you realize your mortality.”

Mary tried to get up, but Canary gently pushed her back down. She said, “Its fine. I’ll deal with her, I’ll be sure to be quick. Please, excuse me for a moment.”

She stood, her full dark brown hair flowing in the wind. A steeliness in her eyes told Mary that she wasn’t afraid of Artemis the same way she was. Not even angered or disturbed or even acknowledging of the danger in front of her. Canary has the eyes of a solider, she thought. The eyes of a perfect Spartan.

Artemis pulled on the thread. “You aid that witch?”

“Put down that weapon,” she calmly said. “You don’t deserve to use what was mine.”

“Once, and a long time ago. The only reason I use this archaic tool was because I respected you the most out of the rest of them. You were what they could have all been, but now you protect the woman who wouldn’t waste a second in killing you.”

“That may be so.” Canary squared her shoulders. “But at least I bare the backbone of someone who knows what they are. I’m a Spartan in death or life, you, on the other hand, are a coward running away from what she truly is.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what may that be?”

“A lesser species.”

Artemis flicked her wrist, and the thread sliced through the air. Mary rolled, and still got a cut on her cheek. Canary ducked and spun, arching her foot high into the air and catching the wire with the soul of her heel. The sudden tightness in the thread pulled Artemis forward, and Canary, in one fluid motion, kicked the back of her knees, spun her around, and slammed her jaw into the side of the curb.

“My lady!” the woman from before shouted. She turned her back from the little girl, and pointed her bow at Canary.

Mary didn’t’ know how to use it, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to, but she grabbed the wire on the ground and slashed it through the air. The bow jutted to the side, and the arrow impaled a palm tree.

The woman glared at Mary. “Shame, you should have died quietly.”

Mary didn’t have to use words to tell her fuck you.

Canary shouted, “Hunter of Artemis! Move any further, and I will break the fragile neck of your dear Lady Artemis.” Artemis struggled underneath Canary’s grip. She had her right arm crossed behind her back and dangerously close to snapping it backwards. Her other arm held a chunk of her hair, and if she forced it backwards with one forceful pull, her neck would crack.

Mary would have loved to see that, but the hunters froze in place.

The little girl smiled at her, ran down the street to pick up her umbrella, and vanished into an alley.

“Juno,” Artemis grunted. The woman with the bow stopped in her tracks, but her lips remained curled into a sneer and her eyes sharp, “fall back.”

“But, My Lady—“

Artemis glared at her, and Juno nodded. “Hunters, fall back,” she said. Juno’s eyes met with Mary’s as she and another hunter helped the groaning body of Apollo onto his feet. “I will be the end of you, animal.”

Canary tentatively let go of Artemis. The white haired woman bounded onto her feet, and spat blood out of her mouth. And as the hunters disappeared into alleys and above buildings, Artemis didn’t move. She stared at them both, Canary standing tall and facing her, and Mary struggling to keep herself on her feet.

Mary didn’t look at the bodies littering the street. The hunters had taken their own, but the dead Russians remained bleeding onto the black tarmac. The blonde woman was undoubtedly awake, and Mary saw her eyes open ever so slightly and survey everything around her.

Night was making way for daybreak at the knife’s edge that was the horizon of the sea behind Mary, and the first rays of sunlight pushed back the shadows. And just before the sun touched Artemis’ feet, she stepped backwards, and turned her back on them both.

Artemis’ voice carried through the air slowly filling with the howl of police sirens. “There is far more at stake than either of you will ever understand. Enjoy your freedom whilst it lasts; hell’s eighth pit awaits you both.” She left alongside Juno, both of them untouched by the sunlight.

“We best hurry,” Canary said. “Law enforcement will be here soon, and… Jaeger?”

Mary swayed and collapsed, a bottomless pit opening up underneath her.

And she couldn’t help but wonder, as the darkness began closing in, who that little girl needed permission from. Mary had only ever needed permission from two people, and the Doctor was dead, and, well, the other killed himself. But in the world she lived in, death wasn’t certain until you saw their soul leave their bodies. Or until you ripped it out of them.

But she doubted the little girl had an elder brother the same way she had.