Marcus Lopez Arguello Imagines

Recruitment-Part Two-

I'm woken up by the jolt beneath me, indicating me being in a car. Looking around, I feel the need to correct myself. A van. I've been thrown into a van. Wonderful. Not even two minutes
out in public, And I've managed to get myself kidnapped. Wtf Artemis. If the annoying part of my subconscious is going to pop in for a moment, let's be positive. Pros. Let's list pros. One pro is, the black bag they used is see through. Dumbasses. We're going to keep that info to ourselves for a little while. 

Another pro is, they're talking amongst themselves, probably assuming I'm still out cold. "Man. Remember when that was you man?" what could be a boy's voice rings out beside me. Another guy in the corner seat chuckles. "Hell yeah. Never thought I'd be here now." They all let out a little chuckle, and It's then that I realize how many there are. At least four. "Think when she wakes, she'll be easy to handle?" The guy beside me asks. "Probably. File says she's an introvert. Sweet little thing, selfless." I roll my eyes beneath the bag. If only they knew. 

We jerk to a stop, and the van door slides open. I force my body to go limp and wait for somebody to grab me. They don't disappoint, and the boy who made the mistake of underestimating me picks me up bridal style. Before I know it, I'm roped to chair, black bag still present. They just kind of sit around. One of the boys begins to make faces in front of me, and I start to lose it. "I can see you, dumbass." I speak up, and he jumps back. I grin, though I doubt they can see it very well. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asks, while holding up his middle finger. "If I chop that one off, you'll still live." I comment. The boy that carried me chuckles. They whip the bag off my head, messing up my hair in the process. "Hey! Watch the hair man. You just made it frizzy." 

The one in the corner rolls his eyes. "You shouldn't be worried about your hair right now." he tells me, amused, nonetheless. "You should always be worried about your hair." A girl and I chorus. I smile at her. "I love your outfit." I tell her, and she smiles back. "Thanks! I love yours!"  After that, it's pretty quiet. "What exactly is happening here? Because if this is about two nights ago, I swear to God, it was not me. Well, it was. Kind of. I mean, it was one tattoo, and It's barely noticeable, anddd I'm rambling. Hey! At least I didn't tell you my whole life story. Sometimes I drive to Vegas, and go to strip clubs, and tell strippers on their break my current and biggest life problems. I always go to the gay clubs though; I swear to god they have the best advice." 

By the time I've finished my rant, they're all just looking at me. 

The boy in the corner is smiling softly at me. The one with the mohawk is grinning, and the girl looks horrified. "You go.. to.. Vegas?" I nod. "For strip clubs and life advice?" I nod again, while she sits stunned. During my little rant, I had managed to cut through the ropes with my nails. I know, I know. Very unrealistic. But I swear, my nails are that sharp. We all have our nails get like that sometimes, right? It's not just me? Anyways, the rope frayed. But not enough to break it. Which means I'm still stuck. 

"Can somebody pleaseeee untie me?" The boy in the corner watches me, amused. "What happens if we do?" I smile back. "I'll let you live." The boy with the mohawk laughs. "Let us live? You're a girl; save Maria here, no woman can take us out, we've got years of training on you. Not to mention you're-" I stand up and slam my body back down, chair and all. I wiggle out of the sawed at ropes, and stand back up, cracking my neck. "Tied to a chair?" The mohawk runs at me, which is weird, because we're literally five feet from each other. I grab his wrist, and judo flip him to the floor. 

I look down at him, and put my shoe to his neck, adding a little pressure. "Man, look at that. Years of training, huh? You are a pessimistic, egotistical, fat headed asshole. I hope one day you choke on that giganteas ego of yours, as you're out falsely advertising your skills." it's only when he starts to choke that I let up. 

The other two watch me warily, and I flash them a grin. "Guess the File's not always right, huh?" 

That file they have on me couldn't be more wrong. Sweet and innocent are the complete opposite of my best traits. But when one wants to go into hiding, you go to desperate lengths to stay hidden. Even if it means becoming a completely new person. 

A man, relying on a cane for support walks into the light, a girl beside him. "Rose, I am-" I cut him off. "I know who you are. But it's become obvious you don't know who I am." He raises a brow. "Is that so? You are Artemis Reveries. Wanted in three states and an island in the Camens for your merciless acts of arson, murder, and petty crimes." I grin. "You cunning old man. You gave them the wrong file, didn't you?"  his lips tug up. "Maybe I did." 

I give him a fake sympathetic smile. "Yeah, well. Hate to disappoint, but I should really be going." As I'm about to walk away, he calls out, "Where? To your apartment? Police are swarming the location as we speak. There's going to be a BOLO out for you by morning." I make sure my facial expression is in check, before slipping on a carefree one. "So? I've been running for the past four years of my life." He's watching me, trying to exploit a weakness. "But have you ever found a family, the past four years? Do you remember what it was like to have one?" I snort. 

"Listen here, Dipshit. I never had a family in the first place. My 'family' was a group of fucking low life bitches. I have had nobody my whole life. And frankly, I don't need anybody. Because the more people you let in, the more have the ability to walk right out. And I don't have the time for that shit. So, if you'll excuse me, I, am going to find myself a new Identity, and some hair dye."

I turn around again, as he calls out to me again. "There is a home, waiting for you. If you would want it. Full of people like you, the same struggle you have faced." I freeze. I briefly consider it. What would it be like? To have a home, I mean. To feel love. Sounds like some mentally stable people shit to me. But I've been doing things fine on my own. Who cares about that stuff? I have myself, my favorite set of daggers, and comfy clothes. That's all I need. I flash them the middle finger and walk out. 

A/N-

So, I have a confession. I may be obsessed with the name Artemis. In fact, I am obsessed; so much so that it will be a making frequent appearance in my works. Enjoy! 

Love you lots Divas. Make the world yours, 

Sincerely, Haylee