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angst-art-writing · 3 years

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Introduction- Sinners and Saints

CW: Blood, torture reference, violence, amputation, reference to abuse, slight dehumanization.

Blood was spattered on the ground, the crowd of people sitting behind the glass walls shouting, their yells blurring together to make a loud roar. Her heartbeat was hammering in her chest, almost as loud as the crowd, and warm blood trickled from her nose down her chin and onto the ground.

She hated the Arena.

Her eyes flashed as a silver blade came for her throat, the blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the Arena . She moved back quickly, the blade missing by mere inches, then ducked under the same blade as it made for her head, and in the same second moved to her opponents side, slamming her elbow into his ribs. "You nearly got me there!" She said to him, eyebrows raised. "But I'm afraid you're a bit too slow!" He gasped sharply, before turning to her, swinging his other dagger towards her once more.

She felt a small sting upon her cheek, but she didn't mind it too much. She then backed up a couple of steps, fists in front of her defensively, but in an instant he darted for her, aiming for a stab directly for her heart.

But she was quick, and experienced. She had faced many others for as long as she could remember, in this exact arena. She instead moved to the side as he staggered forward, slamming her fist into the same exact spot she had elbowed moments before. A loud crack was heard as her fist made contact, and the crowd laughed at her opponents failed attempt. Enraged, her opponent dropped his dagger from one of his hands and whipped towards her suddenly, grabbing her by the neck and lifting her off the ground.

"You little bitch," he growled at her, his grip tightening as her hands scrabbled at his wrist and her legs kicked uselessly. His face was red with embarrassment and oddly, she felt a little satisfaction at that.

Her chest was already starting to hurt as her eyes flit up to the top box, where her mentor sat, watching. She shut her eyes as she felt her opponent hold her throat tighter, keeping her from getting any air into her lungs now.

Her mind was racing. Even though she wasn't allowed to die in the arena, they could make her unconscious; Which meant she had failed the tournament. And then her mentor and Dad would be very mad.. Especially since she had made them look bad.

With her lungs burning inside, and the awful feeling of her throat being crushed and bruising, she let go of his wrist and brought her arm down upon the elbow of the arm he has holding her with. Even with that, he still didn't let go and she simply turned and slammed her into the glass wall's surrounding the arena. Pain blossomed in the back of her head.

She was getting desperate, the sting in her chest only getting worse. "Nice try, brat," the man cooed in a falsely gentle tone.

Artemis opened her eyes slightly, glaring at him, but even with her glare her eyes were light. "You know, I liked it better when your girlfriend choked me~" she teased, her voice strained.

His eyes flashed with anger and he brought her off the glass before slamming her back into it again. Artemis clenched her jaw. And he spoke again, his voice only a low growl, "Honestly, I expected better o-"

He was cut off by his own scream.

She fell to her knees, coughing and gasping in air, a hand on her already bruising throat. In her other hand she was holding her own bloody dagger. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Beside her, was her opponent, holding the new bloody stump of his wrist. His hand lay on the ground beside him as he screamed, writhing and crying from the pain and shock as just having his hand sliced off. The crowd was yelling. Delighted or angry, she couldn't tell. She just knew that she hadn't failed, and she wouldn't be punished severely.

A few of their medical people came into the arena and carried the screaming man away, his cries fading. He would be fine, anyways. They could probably make him a mechanical hand. They were good at that.

She shook her head and exhaled slowly, picking up her knife as she turned, rushing out of the Arena quickly, into the prep room where she had come from earlier, ignoring the Reapers yelling at her.

She hated them yelling. She hated yelling at all.

Her mentor was already there. She slid her dagger back into her belt as she looked at the ground, fighting to keep her face blank.

"Don't look so sad, Artemis! You won!" Her mentor- also the leader of the Reapers- said to her, grinning. He reached over and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up. Artemis flinched from the touch, and he slapped her across the face directly after, his tone sharp and harsh when he spoke again. "What did I say about flinching?"

She bit down on her tongue, her head turning to the side from the impact before she raised her eyes to Vincent. "To not do it.." her voice was quieter. His blue eyes narrowed slowly.

"Then don't," he snapped. But then his voice was gentle again. "I think the crowd really enjoyed that battles, don't you think? It was quite bloody.."

Artemis simply nodded her head. That's all she was used as. A toy, to entertain them, and then as a toy, a weapon, to do their bidding. And she hated it so much. She wasn't a person. She was a thing.

"Although.. You really could have done better. You were slow, today.." Vincent sighed, crossing his arms. At those words Artemis tensed, expecting him to announce some sort of punishment for being slow, but then he continued. "But I can let that slide, only for today. You'll get your food and a bed, Artemis. And no punishment." Artemis's shoulders dropped in relief, exhaling slowly. Vincent went on. "But anyways, you have another assignment. People just keep getting nosier and nosier.. And, as they say, curiosity kills the cat."

Artemis remained silent. She didn't complain, even though every inch of her was sore and ached. She had fought six other people before, all in a row with no break and she just wanted to collapse and go home to her bed.. At least, it wasn't groups today.. Groups was always worse than individuals..

"It's very rude to not answer people, Artemis," Vincent said, frowning.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, her shoulders tensing back up.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "I've told you too many times about that." He then sighed before he pat the side of her face and Artemis fought not to flinch from his hand, which had been so harmful so many times before rather than gentle, before he then turned, and started walking. "Come, now.."

He strode out of the room and Artemis followed after him reluctantly, letting her gaze drop to the floor as soon as he turned away, crossing her arms and digging her fingers into the white long-sleeve she wore, which matched the walls and the floors of the building. She hated the color white too, now.

---

Artemis slipped into the window after Vincent, the two of them completely silent. When Artemis got targets, either Vincent or her father still had to go with her. To make sure she finished the job and didn't run away. The last time she had tried to run was when her mother died, and that was years ago. She hadn't done it again, out of pure fear. The punishment for trying to escape or being defiant was severe.

Even if she hadn't done anything, there was still the chance The Reapers would hurt her. They took out their anger on her whenever Vincent allowed them to.

The room they had entered was dark. Another disadvantage for Artemis, as she had grown up to hate the dark. She had grown to hate a lot of things. She didn't say a word though, and neither did Vincent. Her eyes scanned the room before settling on the bed. Their target, John Finch, was asleep soundly in bed, snoring.

Artemis didn't move a muscle from where she stood, her hand gripping her bow tightly. She just wanted to get it over with and go back to her house, where she would just have to put up with Lance, maybe.. Then she could rest.

Vincent smiled as he walked towards the man, his arms crossed. "Aw.. Look at him," he whispered lowly. "He doesn't even know what's coming.." He paused and looked to Artemis. "Why don't you do the honors?"

"Me?" Artemis exclaimed, and John stirred slightly at the loudness of her voice and Vincent's eyes narrowed slowly. He gave her a look. She swallowed, looking to the sleeping man. She put her bow on her shoulder and her hand went towards her knife instead, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Normally, she was used to it but..

Vincent stepped aside and Artemis went forward, sliding her knife out from it's sheath. She tried to make herself go numb, and on the outside she looked the part. Her face was completely blank and her eyes conveyed no emotion at all.

She tried to stab her blade into John's heart, but she jolted when a hand grabbed her wrist. She looked down, and her eyes met John's, before he suddenly twisted her wrist and took her knife, before he then kicked her away, slamming his foot directly into her stomach.

Artemis staggered, caught off guard as she gasped and coughed from the impact. Vincent snarled as John stood up, holding Artemis's knife defensively as his eyes flit between the two. "What are you doing here?!" He cried, his voice shaking with every word.

Vincent merely sighed irritably, before he suddenly moved forward, grabbing John round the neck with both hands and picking him up before slamming him into the wall, hard enough to knock down a few pictures.

"Artemis! " He snapped, his tone suddenly sharp and harsh. Josh was clawing at his hands with one hand as he desperately tried to breathe and squirm free. Artemis jumped and moved forward, her second dagger in her hand now. "Kill him !" Vincent hissed at her, his eyes on John.

But she hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation, John sliced the knife up, vertically slashing Victor's face shallowly. Victor cried out and dropped John, staggering backwards as John darted for the door.

Artemis stared, her mind racing before she ran out afterwards after John. He was running down the hall. Without thinking, Artemis threw her knife. The knife flipped in the air, before the blade buried itself right into the back of his head.

John dropped to the ground a moment after with a loud thud, and Artemis skidded to a halt, her blood running cold instantly as she saw him fall.

She stood there, her arms falling back at her sides as she closed her eyes moment, taking a deep breath.

"What the hell was THAT?" Vincent had come up behind her, grabbing a fistful of her hair as he swiveled her around to face him. She yelped and opened her eyes, staring right at him with wide eyes now. He looked upset, blue eyes blazing. "Why did you hesitate? Haven't we talked about this?!"

With each word he tugged at her hair, and she yelped, just staring. "I know, I'm sorry-" She hissed in pain, but she didn't dare try moving away from him or struggling.

The one time I hesitate- All the other times I did good but noo. She held her tongue, however. No matter what snarky comment she wanted to say, she didn't. Not to him.

Vincent threw her onto the ground and she hit the floor hard. She turned on her stomach and tried to get back up, but Victor's boot suddenly slammed on her back and pinned her to the ground harshly. She yelped again, the side of her face smacking down into the ground.

"You really pissed me off there, brat," Vincent hissed, digging his boot into her back. "I already taught you a lesson about hesitating before.. But I think you need to be taught again."

Artemis just shut her eyes, as the familiar feeling of fear and dread overtook her. She knew exactly what was going to happen when she got back to the Reapers base.

---

The first-aid kit was shut with a loud snap, Artemis then putting the kit back into the cabinet of the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror afterwards, her eyes narrowing slightly at the large bruise on her jaw. Her throat was also bruised. Underneath her clothes, her body was littered with many more. But its not like she wasn't used to them.

With a sigh, she picked up her backpack from the floor, then her bow, turning to walk out. Finally, she could go home. That was slightly better.

Artemis turned, backpack slung over one shoulder and her brown jacket over her white long-sleeve as she walked out of the base, turning and heading towards her house. She walked through, and as she got closer the bright lights of the city got dimmer and dimmer. She gripped the dagger in her belt as she walked, eyes constantly darting around.

At last, she approached the front steps. She slid the house-key in and unlocked the front door, before slipping inside and re-locking the door again. As she stepped in, she was greeted by a strong wave of alcohol, mingled in with smoke.

She peeked in the living room, finding her dad passed out on the couch. She let out a small sigh of relief. No bottles breaking over her head tonight, thank goodness..

She turned, going down the hallway and into her room, careful not to make any noise. She shut the door softly and dropped her bag in the corner, before she slipped the brown jacket off and draping it on one of the hooks on her wall. Afterwards, she changed into her pajamas and flopped on the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

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angst-art-writing · 4 years