Rage was growing.

I tolerated it until he stopped behind me and muttered that my ass was not exactly much to work with. I happened to have a nice butt. I knew that. I knew that before I got half-way decent hips. It wasn't great, back then... but my hips were wider and it stood to reason that my ass should have been nicer proportionally. Also, he'd literally torn down every part of me, and I heard the words 'disgusting scars' from the son of a bitch with my hypersensitive ear plugs.

It was just too much. Anger exploded in me, breaking through my as of yet limited self control. I pivoted, wrapped my hand around his throat, and forced him to the wall.

"Listen, you son of a bitch. I'm not exactly good with self-control right now. I'm having a lot of issues. So I really want you to know that if you keep it up insulting me, I'll find some new and exciting way to skin you alive," I hissed in his face, nose to nose with the son of a bitch.

"Let go of me," he growled.

"Apologize," I ground out through gritted teeth.

"I'm not apologizing to filth born from the loins of our greatest enemy," he snarled.

"Get this little bitch off of me," the Faery rasped, looking to Ronnie, bug eyed and obviously enraged.

Ronnie's hand fell on my shoulder. He squeezed hard enough to make a point, so I let go, rounding on him. Before I could speak, he put a finger to his lips and gestured for me to follow him into the hall. Roland simply stood there, rubbing at his neck. Outside the room, I glared at my father.

"What the actual fuck, dad? He was straight up just trying to make me feel shit-"

"Yes, he was. And you're being a moron. Not all of Artemis's inner circle of operators and technicians, some of whom you met in the conference room, are comfortable with the concept of Zatava Revantine's child working to aid the organization they care for," he told me, interrupting. "Ronat, these people are trusted. They are loyal. They will not reveal you. But you do yourself no favors allowing them to goad you."

"So, what!? I'm supposed to fucking take it, because they think I'm my mother, so they give me shit to... try and make me act like my mother? How is that fair or logical!?" I demanded.

"In the face of great evil that has brought people an immense amount of suffering, people aren't always fair and logical," he told me, his voice soft. "It isn't right of them. It isn't fair, or smart, or deserved. But if you give them a reason to, they will hate you like they hate her, Little Bit. You have to be stronger then them, and better than them, and show them who YOU are."

"I'm going to hate it the entire time," I spat. He smiled that sad, fatherly smile.

"That's fair, honey."

It was all about my mother.

And what I had done, right there in that room, using my size and power and...

Gods and devils, I was behaving just like her. I was being Zatava Revantine 2.0, now with fresh scars and a side order of implanted metal. Horror and revulsion spread through me and I dropped him, stepping back. My mind tore through a thousand memories of customs and ideals of the Winter Fae, and then I returned to the room, stood before the man, put my arms to my sides and gave him a servant's bow.

And silence fell. No one said anything. Time stretched on so long my back started to hurt.

"What are you doing?" the fairy demanded.

"...a servant's bow. You're right to not apologize. I understand where your anger and disgust with me comes from. I'm sorry for threatening you and for strangling you," I spat, having to force the words out. I wanted so, so badly to beat the man's skull in. Hell, if dad weren't there, I think I would have.

Hell, if it weren't for him mentioning my mother, I would have.

The man didn't answer right away. I kept my eyes to the floor, back muscles screaming, tail tucked.

"Just stand up. It's not surprising you'd act like that monster," he spat. I swear to the gods, the only reason I didn't find a gun and blow his head off was because when I got up and looked to dad, he shook his head slowly. He knew what I was feeling. He knew I wanted to make that guy's insides be all... outside. He gave me a tired, sad look that told me all that would do was prove that I am the same as her. I had to learn some damned self control. It was not optional.

But that didn't mean I couldn't grit my teeth beneath my helm and count in my head - you know, so I didn't commit an absolutely vile rage driven murder.