Artemis awoke feeling as though she were almost well-rested: she began pulling again at the gold threads within her Golden Fleece. Intrigued for a flash second having stumbled across more information regarding the strange short man that had once been guarded by the Hydra. The man had been was what her ancestors called a “shape-shifter” as his face changed throughout history, but his attire and murderous spirit remained the same. He donned white and red robes that were stitched together with gold thread: to appease his unending greed. He often held tight a Golden Rod that was encrusted with precious gemstones, and walked boastfully throughout his mansion: lined from wall-to-wall with gold, as he stood atop vast catacombs of his predecessors. They had earned their wealth with their tax-exemption status, and pillaged the world for the hidden knowledge that they now hid away in vaults. He had attained his purple royal robes and gold and diamond rings as a mob boss: by robbing all those who submitted themselves and their families up: to pay tribute to his presence with their life earnings and  keeping his this skewed dogma alive. He was a thief and false diplomat to the entire world: ruling his city state without any form of accountability as he forced the citizens to applauded his growing volumes worth of crimes.

This Faceless Beast held himself as a figurehead to provide comfort: conveniently found whenever the world fell into chaos. The man with a million faces would often demand that his subjects kiss his perverse hands: boasting that he were a God in the flesh...forced to mingle amongst mortal men. He had hired the Hydra the same way he hired each countless lawyer, and both held too many heads and too little help to keep him from declaring bankruptcy. He was a man with limitations, as he had once set his own laws on fire in the past, and edited his fictional moral scripture to exclude women and those with wings. He built a military to ensure their banks accounts remained overflowing and shamed the public for eternity as a hobby. The meanest of the mean girls.  The extravagant jewels splashed across his chest and attire: bore the blood of millions and the insignia of the most powerful lie known to the history of mankind. He refused to apologize for the children he ordered kidnapped and killed, and the women he ordered raped on behalf of his misguided religion. A terrorist. Artemis waited for the beast to become lazy enough to abandon his post as a military leader: knowing the coward would always find an excuse to dismiss himself from riding into battle alongside his own men. Artemis couldn’t even pretend to be disappointed in the man, as the Boar that terrorized her land...had once avoided serving his country by paying a doctor to diagnose him with bone spurs. In her eyes: both men deserved to be put on public trial for the genocide they commited, as it were the least of their crimes. 

Artemis was useless when facing such an unaccountable world power, and knew there would always be more ignorance than strength...when trying to reason with the followers of the faceless man. She help proud skepticism to the science fiction story they obsessed over: a fable of a flying bearded man. Artemis would occasionally disrupt their persona of virtue with questions on the geography of their tales, and the scientific accuracy of the timeline they proposed. It often led the dead-eyed savages to pray for her, as she was a “Godless woman”. Artemis had been born to a prostitute so she allowed them to reflect upon her history of intergenerational trauma, and watched as they dismissed her from their sight in disgust. The Faceless Beast held her and her Indignous Warriors captive to their own lands: aggressively holding them down, as they inked their skin with cursed numbers. Being cursed to wander purgatory forever...didn’t keep Artemis from casting precise judgment upon the powerful entity. Artemis knew he had began to prepare for their introduction, as paranoia set in...and the beast barricaded himself within a cube made of plexiglass. He appeared to be frozen in the ice, an ice as dense as his outdated views. He would often flaunt his thievery, with elite-filled orgies and lavish living situations that defined decadence. The Faceless beast coveted his piles of gold over his own words or righteousness: always mad at his goons for begging for cash to pay their lawyers. His passivity in protecting child molesters was the least of his crimes.

The Faceless Beast had hypnotized and tricked his followers...brainwashing them to believe that there was a place of medium where people were trapped, and that the only way to repent their souls was to give him a majority of the earnings of each household. When the citizens objected: the man blackmailed them with their own confessions and guilt. This Faceless Beast loved and protected his conclave: even though it had been disrupted with corruption, dating back to the initial establishment of the institution. As soon as one Faceless Beast died: another was selected instantly, as to keep the money train going at all costs.  They’d send word by smoke signals and continue the perpetual demand of the innocent blood sacrifices and pillaging. Artemis found these rituals to be ominous as fuck and worrisome to boot, as she watched his followers live impoverished lifestyles to feed his greed, and willingly participate in continuing his reign of fear and high crimes.

Artemis understood why her elders had warned her that this Faceless Beast and the Questionable Queen were not permitted to ever touch her as she got older. It were a minor protest to the lack of morality that they each arrogantly displayed. Artemis had never thought twice aboot what they stood for...until she had traveled with her brave Argonauts. It seemed that the reality that she would have to personally face these two individuals: drew nearer and nearer, and she readied her weapons of silver and gold...knowing that this would be the same epic battle that she had often had nightmares of. Artemis would always try and decipher her dreams as, more than half were memories that had yet occurred: giving her reason to question the legitimacy of her world and seek answers to end the simulated life that held her captive. Artemis had spent her whole life...feeling the swelling of orchestras all around her: chanting melodies of grandeur and hymns of battle each morning and grounding her to her thoughts and emotions. Artemis loved these songs of urgency and darkened crescendo: hoping the melodies would eventually match her environment... the way a song is meant to depict a Warrior facing all odds before a war. Artemis would gladly give her life: if it meant that this Faceless Beast and his followers would spare the innocent people that had once called themselves lambs. They had suffered enough soon after they had each sacrificed their own children: feeding them to the notorious child rapists that had conquered the world with his sharp worded lies of love.

Next Chapter: *[ XIII ] Artemis and Medusa*