A/N: I'm a little more inspired now, thanks to the great reviews I've been getting (*cough* maybe ya'll should keep reviewing so I'll update faster *cough*). This story has gotten a much better feedback than I ever could have hoped, so thank ya'll, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Batman strode silently into the room, taking a place at the table and waiting for the archer to take her place across from him.

Artemis, who had been glaring at the ceiling for over an hour, was relieved that someone had come to rescue her from her boredom, despite the fact that this "someone" was the Dark Knight himself.

It was mid-afternoon, as far as she could tell, considering her cell had no windows or a clock to which she could refer. A couple of hours ago, her lunch had been brought in by a thin butler with a gray mustache.

As she sat, the detective narrowed his eyes at her and slid a manila file folder across the table. "Ms. Crock."

Artemis sighed. "So you've gotten my DNA results." Her own statement was confirmed when she opened the folder, leafing through its contents and grimacing at that God-awful school picture of her that was paper clipped to the first page.

Batman nodded. "Artemis Crock. Age 15. Daughter of Lawrence Crock and Paula Crock, who also go by—"

"Sportsmaster and Huntress. I appreciate the narration, Batman, but I don't need to be reminded of my family heritage." Artemis cut in.

Batman merely nodded.

"So Ms. Crock…" he began again, "When did you begin your training?"

"You're going to have to be more specific. I started archery when I was about six, martial arts in fourth grade, weapon handling before I could walk..."

"Your training for the shadows. When did that begin?"

"Oh. Ten years ago. For my fifth birthday, my dad handed me a gun and told me that someday I was gonna be just like him."

Her expression remained as hard as stone, but on the inside, she was crying out. That was the day she lost her innocence… and as the years went on, her life.

"Interesting." Was Batman's only comment.

Artemis shuffled the papers in front of her around for a moment before Bats asked another question.

"How do you feel about your job?"

"It's a job. It keeps my mother safe." Artemis's voice was clear and flat.

"How do you feel about your family?"

She paused for a moment, contemplating a response.

"My dad is a world-class asshole. My sister is a twenty-first century Houdini. My mom is a crippled ex-con who barely makes ends meet, even with my help—my family is nothing to be proud of."

Wally sat on the other side of the glass, watching the blonde who, he now knew as "Artemis", as she talked.

She was truthful. Open. And he couldn't get the familiarity of her out of his head… Her story was all too real and personal.

"Who is this?" Batman flashed her a picture of a wrinkled Asian man with hair that stood straight up in tufts on either side of his head and a fu Manchu moustache.

"Ra's al Ghul."

"What is his affiliation with the League of Shadows?"

"He calls the shots—he deploys his shadows to every corner of the world and wills them to kill, all with just one word."

"Who is this?" he held up another picture. Another crinkled face stared up at her, only with one white eye and one brown.

"The Sensei. He's a senior member of the League of Shadows, but as far as I can tell, he doesn't do much."

"And this?" another picture. The man in this one was young, but his face was battle-worn and matured. He had a buzz cut and one of the stupidest mustaches Artemis had ever seen.

Artemis had to concentrate to remember his name. "Mannheim? Benny or Barty Mannheim?" she shrugged. "I don't know. I've seen a few times. He's a pal of my dad's—when they're not scowling at each other, they get along real well."

At this Batman almost cracked a smile—although he held back.

"Artemis, your cooperation is better than expected—why?"

The blonde couldn't explain it. Her shadow nature was telling her to take her interrogation as an opportunity—she could compromise Batman's identity by asking a few key questions or simply knocking his mask off—but Artemis didn't want to do that. She didn't want to be the scumbag criminal who sat back and sneered and did nothing to be less of a pain in the ass to her captors.

She looked at the detective, square in the face, and uttered four simple words.

"I have no idea."