Artemis abandoned her post near the Nemean Lion at last, and returned to her mundane life...playing with explosives and such. She would work diligently, to focus on her projects as she attempted to ignore the steady stream of news that fluttered violently around her thoughts. She would take a keen interest in political gossip, as the Cyclops still held articles of blackmail against the Boar. He had committed treason to protect his image, and hide his yellow shame-filled past. Artemis knew the duo were dangerous...in ways that could destroy the world ten times over. The Boar had already sucked the land dry, as he used the citizens money to rent out his own properties, and utilizing them for sports at inflated prices. The Boar never satisfied, as he paced upon green lawns and yelled over green and silver flying chariots. They could never diminish his glutinous anger, as the Boar was crazed with the thoughts and the hopes of rearing his own daughter. The law barely keeping his tongue in check. Artemis found the dichotomy of their relationship to be unhealthy, but understood that the dead-eyed savages coveted their culture of incest. They had colonized the land to preserve this particular statement of sexual freedom.

Artemis began to feel disgusted whenever she saw either the Boar or his daughter, plastered all over the front pages of the news. The Boar left squealing on stages, ranting like an overwhelmed supply teacher. Artemis would work hard to distract herself from the memory of his daughter fondling herself as she smeared and lathered herself in gold paint. Artemis would do her best reconnaissance work during her dreams, as she sprinted down hallways lined with red doors and avoided the surreptitious company of the Boar and his daughter at all costs. They called her Pocahontas, as they attempted to lure her to a red door to entrap her in. One day in the fall, Artemis awoke abruptly, as she sensed that the time to prepare for battle had finally arrived. The Boar had finally gone full-blown dictator. Implementing orders of Marshall Law upon the citizens of the polis. Artemis needed her army now, more than ever: as the citizens had been banned from kneeling, and exercising their first amendment rights. The emperor Caligula reborn into flesh, on a bloody conquest to supersede their freedom.

Artemis was occasionally a part of the problem, as she was contracted under the Boar to check advanced aeronautical equations. Her life open for ridicule, as the citizens and Indigenous Warriors questioned, how Artemis could be comfortable working for the Blue Crest of Hope and the Boar. Artemis often took offense to the interrogation methods they used, as she was a devoted patriot and a man of science. Her role as a demi-god, gifted her with the skepticism to Boar that boasted of being the second coming of a fictional god. She had mastered her ability to travel between worlds and dimensions, as she used her nights to help relieve terror from the hearts and minds of those prone to trauma-laced dreams. Artemis came across the prayers of her wounded soldiers, as they reached for her in the most dire of times. She had gifted herself to be omnipresent, as she took up the confession booth to any soul that held despair that could only be with the desperate. The few beyond hopelessness, as they begged for “anyone” to hear their prayers. The modern times, could subsequently explain the influx of non-denominational prayers that were sent Artemis’s way. She’d follow the mutilated and decomposing souls, as they walked her through their situation, and politely avoided looking at her in a hag form. One night, she was swallowed away into someones dream...and forced to live out her own nightmares instead. The path of blood-soaked stone distracted her from the horrid pitches of the tortured screaming. Their harsh voices reverberating, from the empty brick laid hallways. The architectural wonder was nothing more than a large brick room, painted black on its exterior to hide the blood seeping along the corridors it encased. It was filled to the brim with prisoners, and funded by the citizens. A majority of the profits going to the lobbyist and the Boar, as they franchised crime to keep the beds filled to appease their shadowy overlords. It was a prison guarded by a flock of depraved boars that basked in trading fair-pay to uphold their traditions of racism and ignorance. The black-box always bore the name St. Clair in these dreams, a place that had been devoted to committing war crimes, instead of rehabilitating the incarcerated. Artemis frequently visited the men and women in these black-boxes, as she loved practicing her best fighting techniques with worthy adversaries. These were some of the greatest warriors the Nation had to offer, as their aggression held them captive to an abnormal society. Artemis could sympathize for all those that had been locked away for minor infractions, or those that received more time because of the inevitable. Artemis had once been placed in black-box by a Siren named A. Butt, and allowed herself to exercise the limitations of criminality because of it. Her environment eventually eating her alive, until she bore the name criminal with pride. Her ability to not care, was an indifference that plagued a majority of Indigenous Warriors. Their culture would have once prescribed them with tours in battle instead of locking them away for eternity. Their Warrior rage called the gift of Diomedes: famed soldiers, occasionally driven mad by Hera in their dreams, and punished for their actions in their real lives. Artemis pitied all of those that stood in the path of a Diomedes: as she had suffered at the absent hand of Missy and curses struggling with her inner self, and eventually trading her children for a life without responsibilities, and forgoing her maternal duties to pursue freedom.

Her mother’s profession was never an issue to Artemis, as the work itself predated most things, and the legality of it had changed over-night. Artemis wondered how many women had been encased in the black-boxes for an array of tic-tak crimes: their recurring offenses, compiled into that into one word that condemned them for eternity. The women were occasionally guilty of holding-up the traits taught in enslavement, or accepting the open demand of the position to be more practical. The perpetuity of investing in silver poles and bright colored feathers, held more promise than any job available to the current generation. Artemis had been raised in an urban jungle that was famed for its Amazonian dancers...the rain forcing entertainment indoors, as they cheered to their soggy woes. Tossing money upon the floor, and dining feasts of no-occasions with their hand-crafted ales raised to the Gods upon Mount Olympus. The glittering dancers brought saddened-joy, where vitamin D was lacking, and supplemented the economy with the two piece bills in constant circulation. The tell-tale sign of those that proudly retreated to dark rooms, to fulfill their prowess fantasies, and explore their sexual freedom.

The scarcity of jobs bringing further panic to the citizens, as inflation resulted in chaos spreading across the land like a wildfire. Their society had created the Diomedes, as they voluntarily began gouging out their eyes to avoid the sight of private industry. Shoving the black-boxes out of sight, and protecting the monetary value of their property. One night, she walked into a cell to remedy a distraught man sleeping and mumbling to himself. Artemis met up with him in his dream, by laying her cheek next to his softly and finding a common frequency as she hummed. The handsome man showed no sign of being afraid of her unannounced presence, as he calmly informed her that he was the criminal known as Mills. Artemis had grown up admiring the famous olympian Billy Mills, and so she felt compelled to comply to this coincidence by simply saying “dope”. The man expressed his urgency in attempting to escape the black-box and its torture, and the conviction in his voice made Artemis want to cry. She told the man how she had once lived up to skewed expectations, and proudly called herself a criminal. The man understanding that they were filling a temporary role that had been cast upon them, and Artemis felt bad for using statistics in her favor. Mills began to cry softly, as he mumbled to himself a slow rhythmic beat, and avoiding looking at her. Artemis sat atop his chest and waited for him to finish his story. The man fell into a somber spell, and Artemis grew worried that she couldn’t return to her friend, as he now avoided sleep in order to resume his incoherent mumbling. Artemis took to the winds and sleuthing as to observe whatever atrocities St. Clair had been accused of, and she headed East to find solution for her comatose friend. Once again, Artemis set forth to fight another battle alone. She had promised herself to a thousand crusades, if it meant preserving their liberties and freedom.

Entering the black-box: Artemis instantly noted a putrid smell of death that vaguely reminded her of Hades. The lingering taste of freshly exchanged body fluids suggested that anal rape was what had caused all the horrific screams, as the air felt stale and warm all at once. Artemis leaned over, and did a spot on impression of her baby-friend Roro, as vomit casually fell from her mouth silently, without a gag-reflex triggering it. Gross. Artemis found herself, only annoyed that vomit was lodged in her nasal cavity as she feebly wiped barf from the sharp edges of her mouth. She wiped her chin, and inspected the cells on each side of the hallway, all closed under lock and key. Tilting her head with confusion as she wondered why the boars had defiled their own reputations as they smeared blood all over the doors. Artemis leaned closer and scanned the perimeter for potential threats, as she fumbled into her quiver to retrieve a clear binding ribbon. The small adhesive strips, had given her the opportunity to preserve bloody fingerprints for later trial dates, against all the boars that had committed human rights violations. Artemis cracked her neck from side to side, as she cautiously walked down the hallway. She pulled her hand steady as she reached behind her back: ready to draw her bow and arrow at any moment. A disruption of clamoring upon metal bars erupted, as she wondered what types of wild beasts were being held in such inhuman conditions. She began to doubt herself, as she wasn’t quite sure how the action of being there could position her to further help her friend Mills. As she neared the end of the hallway, she turned about-face and saw a fat man...standing directly opposite of her at the end of the hallway. His pale and hairy belly sagged low, as she was too fat to tuck in his shirt. The man, comedically reminded Artemis of a very pregnant sow. The man shook his head at the woman in boredom, unintimidated by her larger than life stature. He lost interest immediately, as he unzipped his pants and left to enter a door that stood to his right. “Yeah…that’s not how this goes,’’ thought Artemis to herself in a monotone calmness. Taking off in a sprint, down the hallway as she raced the closing cell door. She desperately needed to save whoever the man-sow had taken hostage in that moment. She faced her fears head on, and prepared herself for death. Knowing her suffering would be worth it, if it meant she could preserve the life of just one individual, and further ensuring their freedom.

It bothered Artemis that the man had ignored her, but not as much as it bothered her to know that her speed would keep her from reaching the door in time before it closed. The overestimation of her own physical abilities, had resulted in her losing track of which cell door the boar had entered. Artemis didn’t have the luxury of being offended by sexism or those indifference to her female might. As she rushed down the hallway, in deep philosophical thoughts for no reason...her eye was attracted to the blood protruded from the meal slots. Their nails, being ripped out and stuck deeply carved into their cell doors. These poor people, were trying to escape from something that no human should endure. The epiphany of the gory scene, explained why Mills had sent her to the black-boxes to scout in the first place. She stopped for a moment, as she announced herself at last to her fellow criminals. Taking the base of her long-bow, and casted abruptly upon the concrete floor. She knew they couldn’t pass, but it had been her only option for demanding the attention of her fellow hardened warriors. She hit the floor in a slow rhythm as she sang sweetly, the cedar bow thumping the pavement, in a way that resembled a deep drum. She felt the curious, leaning against their doors: silent in their despair. Intrigued by her voice, having not heard a woman sing in a long time, and afraid that it was a trap set by the boars. Artemis sang her traditional songs to these men, as she walked along, and tried to find the door that housed the beast she had decided to slay. She stopped and asked that they return her calls with pride, as she returned to singing once more and tapping back on their doors as she wandered down the hallway. Artemis felt the trick reminded her of her teen years as a criminal: holding a pick to a stubborn lock, as she scavenged the black-box frantically. They began to increasingly tap back their compliance, and safe with the idea that she had come to their aid. They no longer needed to lie or suppress their demons, as Artemis was the only true demon in attendance. Artemis hoped to become their leader in command one day, feeling confident that these were the dead-eyed warriors that she had been searching to fight alongside. Their culture: crime. Their might was uncontainable, as each Diomedes warrior held twice the strength of a normal human. Artemis had finally grown to love this trait aboot herself, as used her past as a criminal to inspire the youth and display her individualistic freedom.

Artemis began to panic as her method of tapping was quickly overshadowed by the horrifying screams of a man being penetrated. His shrill cries, rang throughout the corridors of the black-box. The cursed cube, stood empty-yet-full at all times and surrounded by nothing for isolating purposes. Artemis didn’t have time to search, and ultimately resorting to her papa’s old tricks: demanding that the ugly man, show his face immediately...unless he was ready to admit that he was Artemis’s Bitch. As she began to curse the man...her warriors laughed feverishly under their breath. Now in attendance to a comedy hour. They listened intently as they heard the voice of the woman, move her set...from one with cheer songs of love and plight, to another filled with the yelling of profanity-riddled commentary. A voice from behind a door softly whispered through his food slot. He frantically snapped his lips as they pressed firmly against the slot, smeared with his own blood. He asked the Indigenous Warrior, what they were expected to call her and Artemis was more delighted by his earnest voice, as she could hear he was smiling as he spoke. She cracked her neck from side to side, as she informed the listening men...that her name was Tila on the battlefield. She used the time to rally their support as she recruited them as troops by simply explaining that Mills was in trouble, and that she had come to the cursed black-box to attempt to find a solution and break his comatose spell. The man was satisfied with this briefing, as he reached out his malnourished hand to shake the hand of his captain. She felt ashamed that her hand was plump and rosey, and his frail and bruised. Artemis shook his hand without hesitation, but paused to store the emotion away accordingly. The man began to cry, as he explained that he was imprisoned for a magical plant that was recently legalized. The man had paid for his dime slinging ways by being raped everyday and beaten by the officers that pretended to protect the citizens from criminals. She asked for his assistance in finding the door she was looking for, and felt his hand fall heavy. He had used his last breaths to introduce himself, as his heart gave out from starvation. The correctional system in work: as that the dead-eyed savages slept safely in their quiet suburbs as they exiled left for dead in black-boxes. Defending their moral standpoints on the basis of ignorance to the subject, and having convinced themselves that the system worked and would ensure their freedom.

Artemis gently laid the dead hand to rest, as she went back to her overwhelming task. Livid, in a strange all-consuming rage, that overshadowed anything that she had ever felt in her life. Artemis approached a suspicious door, violently shaking in delight, as her hand grazed the absorbent silver bar that sucked the last ounce of heat from her body. She took a deep breath, and in the quiet of her own doubts, Artemis heard soft chats cheering her on. Her men, had began chanting “Tila...Tila” in sync, as her insecurities in faded away and she finally pulled the cell door open with confidence. They had dispelled her daydream at the door, simply by calling her name. Artemis had become desensitized to the masses and their invasive flashing lights, as crippling fear no longer captured her imagination or discouraged her from setting foot onstage. She found herself petrified in a familiar feat once more, as the open door presented the horrors that she often ran away from. Standing inside of a familiar room: furnished with only a mattress and a flickering light above. These poor men had been living out her nightmare everyday, unaware that her memory had been the original sin that now trapped them in black-box. She stepped into the shallow room, as the boar continued to thrust his erect penis into the ass of a bound prisoner. The man strapped down and bent over, with a blindfold and gag, as he bled profusely from his raw rectum in shame. Artemis was too angry to be shocked, as she simply stood in the door and began instigating a fight with boar that was busy raping his prisoners. Artemis took her chance, as she finally lured him to charge her. She swept past the obese boar, and swiftly grabbed the naked man that he had been raping repeatedly. Slamming the cell close behind them as she moved away from the angered beast. She pulled the poor man into the corridor and removed his blindfold, as she cried uncontrollably on his behalf. Artemis continued untying the ropes that kept him bound. The same ropes, that had once restricted his hands from defending his own sexual freedom.

Artemis used this time to restore the dignity of the man she had finally managed to save. She handed him trousers quietly, and gave him medicine for his many lacerations. Artemis saw the boar burst into the hallways in a furry, as she glanced over her shoulder. She turned to kill the pig-man, and as she did, the man asked who she was. She half-heartedly said, “nobody”. Thinking that it wasn’t the proper time for humble-bragging. The beast charged at her without a second thought. Artemis saw a reflection cascade over this dome, as his soft spot leaned nearer. Artemis had a thing aboot stabbing, that made her appreciate anatomy in different light than most. She charged the boar, as it drew nearer..she placed her hand to her back once more. Her target chosen, just as quickly as she had retrieved her bow and arrow from its resting position. Instead of drawing her bow last minute...Artemis took her right hand, and grabbed a single arrow. Holding its tip tightly beneath her fist, as she used the arrow as a personal knife instead. She took a quickened step to the nearest wall, and encroached on her prey. The boar had finally taken the bait, as he drew too close for comfort. Artemis swiftly stepped from the floor, using one foot to step up the wall, as she threw her body into the air. She lunged, up and over the beast, until she could see past the rim of his bald head. She grabbed her arrow with both hands, and drove the obsidian tool, straight down upon the man’s head. She felt his knees buckle under her weight, as her arrow protruded out through his many chins. Killing the monster instantly. She kicked his corpse and called him a bitch one last time, as Artemis politely bent over, and finally retrieved her slender arrow from his split skull. “Eww gross” thought the woman, as she wiped goop from her handcrafted arrows. She looked up and saw the man she had assisted as he quietly observed her ritual of slaughter. The petite woman was a marvel to him, as she somehow held the moves of a giant skilled gladiator and the appearance of an aging hag. The strange woman had put her own life at risk in the pursuit of blind justice and freedom.

Artemis looked up with a shiver in sensing she was under surveillance, and saw the man observing her playing with the blood sitting in her hands. Deciding once and for all...that scalping the boar would be considered overkill since she had an audience. Criminals could always communicate with the locking of eyes, as their bouncing pupils danced magnanimously. They quickly became a pair of strategizing comrades, and strode down the hallway in a lockstep. Briskly walking towards the entrance of the black-box, until they were intercepted by some beastly bacon with a star badge. They were standing in the narrow path of the army of pig-men, as she moved into an open stride. Artemis was prepared to defend the men and women and all those that had lost their dignity at the expense of these bitter sows. She felt her eyes dart around the terrain, and her lip began to curl into a familiar snarl. She’d gladly scalp each and every one of these mother-fuckers with no remorse. Their lives, seen as a fair exchange for the lost funds of the city-state. they had squandered the wealth of land, in order to preserve their culture of false-patriotism. Artemis hadn’t the fucking time for this shit. The two had decided that it was time to free the men that now stood captive, as they had finally repented for their crimes. Artemis knew that many had been well versed in fine literature and law, as they had wisely exchanged their one book...for ten. Their demand for change was finally heard: found in degrees and activism, as their political voices were cursed to be muted indefinitely. The correctional facilities had bought and paid the senate. Ensuring that the Diomedes were forever enslaved and oppressed. Casting unlimited tethers to their black-boxes where their fellow inmates were still trapped: voiceless to the violence. They kept calling themselves criminals, as they were the Diomedes (the terrible) and often taught to forget love and hope. They had forgotten their personhood the second they traded it in for their freedom.

Artemis worked to catch her breath as they raced back down the hallway. She had been given the instructions once more, to jump up and over the pigs that lined the hallway. Her conspirator advised her to take to higher grounds once more, as he was preparing to release all the cell doors open at once to create a distraction. The man handed her small sterling silver clip, and told her that he had protected the family heirloom rectally. It was apparent that the shiny metal had been what had originally attracted his rapist, as pigs are obsessed with all things that shine. Artemis took the item and placed it in her quiver, as she assumed it could be used for something…someday. As the mass of pigs grew closer: the two said their farewells for the time being, letting their hands go at last. The pair had a plan and strategy. Whereas the swarm of ignorant pigs had none, as always. Artemis told the man he needed to bury all of those that had died and were left laying facedown to rot in their cells. The man nodded in silent agreement, as he now had a better understanding of both life, and those who live...dead. He reached across Artemis and pressed the button slowly, watching as all the cells softly clicked and viciously burst open all at once. Her men, now stood hesitant in their doorways. Skinny and bloody in their confusion from the endless abuse at St. Clair. Their eyes fell downward upon the dead pig-man who lay with his skull split open. The men now saw Artemis in all of her naked splendor, a fearless Tubman to follow to their freedom.

Her army now flooded into the hallway with an excited buzz. She began to call formations as they charged: instructing her men to run tightly packed into three lines, as they were to plow down the middle of the strike lane of pigs. They outnumbered them in sheer might, kicking the rows of dividing pigs into the cells they had once protected. They sprinted into battle as a well-formed platoon, and Tila was leading the charge. She watched from above, as they successfully clashed with the swine. They had cleared enough pathway for her to move past the crowd. She nudged through the bumping shoulders and yelling, as she loftily rolled out from behind the entrance door. She looked over her shoulder, and she saw the man she had assisted. His fierce face sticking out in the crowds. She had done all she that she could in the short time they had met, but Artemis knew their paths would cross again in the future. Artemis made it back to the bedside of Mills, and she saw he was still glossy-eyed and incoherently mumbling to himself. She sat next to the man and held his hand, as she cried for all those locked up in black-boxes that she had just escaped. As she cried in her desperation of not knowing what to do, she remembered the gift her new friend had given her. She retrieved it from her quiver and washed off the shame and feces that had once caked its surface. She placed it upon Mills, centering it on his broad chest. Artemis felt her hands shaking in anguish, as his chest continued to heave and his breath began hyperventilating. She needed this to work. The tears began to swell behind her eyes, just as the man woke up and groggily speaking to her softly. Artemis told Mills, how she had found his clues and built an army trying to get him to wake up. Weeping at his bedside, as he grinned to see her with doubt. He pointed out that she now had two-point-three million soldiers ready at her command, and admiring her ability to be Minty. Artemis had hoped she still held the support of the Indigenous Warriors, as their only stood two million left..that had survived the Genocide. Artemis heard drum beats and swelling orchestras in the distance, as she prepared for an epic battle in the near future. She awaited the day when the citizens came knocking on her door, asking for advice in dismantling the mechanical Boar that now openly threatened all of their freedom.

Next Chapter: *[ XXI ] Artemis and the Golden Apple*