Chapter 2: Huntress

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."

Those words were familiar enough to Helena Rosa Bertinelli. She had spoken those words many times before, having come to this place for many a confession to the priest in charge.

"It's been two weeks since my last confession." she admitted.

"I swear, Miss Bertinelli, the amount of times between confessions decrease each time you come to one." the priest remarked, "I may start running out of advice to give you."

Helena managed to crack a small smile at that joke. Helena Bertinelli was a very attractive woman with raven-black hair, sparkling blue eyes and a fair complexion. She was also the kind of woman who had seen things that she'd never forget, giving her a constant firm and cold expression she often had on her face. She was also the sole-surviving member of one of Gotham's original criminal families, the Bertinellis.

The family were an Italian-American family that originated from Sicily and had established a presence in Gotham City during the early twentieth century. Helena was the daughter of Maria Bertinelli and Santo Cassemento, the result of an affair between them. She'd heard stories on how Maria's real husband, Franco Bertinelli, had used to beat her several times before her birth, the beatings only getting worse once he learned she was pregnant with a child that wasn't his. After her birth, she'd spent the first eight years of her life living in a Mafioso household, living in blissful ignorance to its true nature of past criminal dealings being done there. Now an adult, she was no longer a "mafia princess" and didn't even do crime like her family had once done. She long since distanced herself from those days and actually worked as a teacher at an elementary school in Gotham. She was also a devout Catholic, regularly attending church on Sundays. She was here now, sitting in a confessional with the priest to make her latest confession in Gotham's most famous church ever, Gotham Cathedral.

Gotham Cathedral was one of the city's tallest buildings and long rumoured to be the oldest building currently still standing. It had been there in Gotham's original form and was still standing to this day, easily recognized from its tall spire that dwarfed most of the surrounding buildings to the sinister gargoyles that watched over the city from all directions, said to be the eyes of God himself keeping watch over the people of Gotham. Due to how crime-ridden Gotham City was, many people living there found a safe haven in Gotham Cathedral. They could forget about all their troubles and pray to God for any sense of hope and comfort. It was a great relief for the people of the city and one of Gotham's most peaceful places to be. Helena had attended the church for most of her childhood and still liked to come here now. She'd even known the priest growing up too, having come close to him and seeing him as like a second father. She was so close that the two even knew each other's names, although Helena still referred to him as "Father".

The priest, an old, balding man with dazzling green eyes named George Newton, had worked at Gotham Cathedral for almost forty years. Now seventy years old, he showed no signs of stopping any time soon. Known to the church attendees as Father Newton, he had become one of Gotham's most beloved citizens with his friendly, warm and loving nature making him pleasant to be around for all who came to the cathedral. He was the sort of man who couldn't get angry no matter how many times people tried to wind him up and he gave off the impression that he wouldn't hurt a fly. He had been a devout Catholic himself and liked to see himself as one of God's servants, put on this Earth to spread love and kindness to the people. He saw goodness in everyone and never judged whoever came to his church, seeing people of all race, colour, gender and sexuality as equal. Father Newton always enjoyed seeing Helena attend the church and was interested, as well as concerned, to hear what sins she had to confess this time around. The poor girl seemed to commit a lot of them for she'd come here to this confessional quite a lot in recent years. Was the devil's influence taking hold of her?

"So, what are you confessing to have done this time, Helena?" Father Newton asked softly.

His voice was always quiet, gentle and measured. The priest always spoke this way as he felt it put his people in a good frame of mind and reassured them that they were safe and in the presence of someone who wouldn't judge them.

"Same thing as last time I came here, Father." Helena replied. Whenever she spoke, she had a faint Italian accent to her words. She sat up straight with no attempts to make herself comfortable and kept her hands firmly on her thighs. She continued.

"I've done…things that you and the lord himself might consider undesirable." the Italian-American woman admitted, "Things that might have me condemned to the depths of Hell forever."

"What kind of things have you done?" Father Newton asked. He already knew the answer but felt it polite to ask anyway.

"Committed what could be the biggest sin of all." Helena replied, raising a hand to her chest to play about with the cross necklace she wore around her neck, "I've killed Father…killed many, many people. And worst of all…I seem to relish it. I confess all of this to you now for I fear that I may be consumed by my inner demons. Maybe I'm becoming one with what I do."

Her expression was neutral, suggesting that she didn't actually mean what she'd said and had no fear whatsoever. Of course, Father Newton couldn't see this as there was a wall between them in the confessional. The old man took in what Helena had said and nodded slowly.

"Yes…quite common for those to fear what they're becoming." he agreed, "So what kind of people have you killed? And why?"

Helena closed her eyes for a minute, clutching the cross around her neck. As she thought of her answer, she found herself back there, hiding in that closet, only eight years old at the time and watching her family die. Gunshots fired, blood flying everywhere, bodies hitting the ground…how she would never forget that horrifying image! And it was all to do with the answer she was about to give.

"I kill the criminal scum that infect this city." Helena said, a slight edge to her voice, "They nearly made me one of them, they took away my family, trained me to be a killer…they're a disease that plagues the city and I feel it's my duty to wipe them out. I do it because I feel it's the right thing to do, so that this city can be free from their corruption and never fear what they will do to them! I believe that maybe this is all what God wants to me do, as ludicrous as it may seem that our wise and loving creator would want me to do something so evil. Maybe that was why I was spared that day, God's gift to me so that I could deliver penance to those who commit the most unforgiveable sins."

She shut her eyes again and sighed, wondering if what she'd said had been the right thing to say.

"Would you consider it sinful to only kill those who have sinned themselves, Father?" the raven-haired woman asked.

Father Newton had to admit that Helena had given him an interesting confession. It was the kind of thing that had no real easy answer to it. Was it right or was it still wrong to kill bad people? He carefully thought over Helena's words before he gave his answer.

"As you know my child, our lord works in mysterious ways." Newton explained, "Maybe he did spare you that day so you could deliver penance to those who have sinned. Maybe it is all his plan, whatever it maybe, and there's a reason behind everything you're going through. But I must ask, do you only kill bad people Helena?"

"Yes. Only criminals and whatever empires they're a part of are felled by my own hands."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"A part of me revels in it…but my actions aren't out of sadism or pleasure entirely. I do it for I feel that is the way to deal with the scum of this Earth, and I do it for the people who would otherwise suffer at their hands."

"And do you have anything that God would consider noble to balance it all out?"

"I'm a teacher at Gotham Elementary. I love it there for I love children and I feel privileged to pass on whatever knowledge I have to the young minds of Gotham that are hungry for that knowledge. It was a childhood dream of mine and I feel blessed to have gotten it." Helena replied, a soft smile on her face as she thought of the many students she'd befriended since starting work there.

"Then I see no reason for the lord to condemn you for your actions." Father Newton said brightly, "I do not condone murder in anyway but God has a way of delivering untold punishment to those who are bad. If it is his will, then we are powerless to defy it. But I also warn you Helena, if you continue down this path, if you begin to relish your murderous ways and find pleasure in the murder of others, you could well condemn yourself forever. You could even become a servant of Satan himself. I would hate for our lord to have to deliver penance on you too. Maybe you could find a better way to deal with the demons of the world instead of slaughtering them. I see hope for you yet Helena, I firmly believe you're still on the path of righteousness. But what I fear is if you're veering too close away from it. My advice is to see into yourself and maybe find another way around what you do."

The Catholic woman had a feeling she would hear those kinds of words and wasn't surprised at what Father Newton had told her. Deep inside, a part of her had wondered if God even wanted her to be a killer at all. God clearly had something in mind for her, but what? She sighed a little, slowly exhaling through her mouth. Helena thought back to something that she had been waiting for all day, something that was going to happen tonight. It was too early to grow a conscience and go easy on these criminals when there was something she had to deal with.

"Maybe my redemption will come soon Father, but not tonight." Helena admitted, "I didn't ask for forgiveness for what I've done…but what I'm about to do again."

"And what are you going to do again?" Father Newton asked.

Night came again, dark and without a star or even the moon visible in the pitch, black skies above. It was one of those nights that seemed to be even darker than usual. This was fine for some for more darkness means more secrecy and less chance of being spotted.

There was a group of men overseeing a delivery that was just coming from a ship that had arrived into the docks a few minutes ago. It was a cargo ship, a towering beast of steel and metal that dwarfed every other boat in the yard. It was carrying huge steel-crates that had goodness knows what inside. With the size of them, anything could be inside. These men knew that it was nothing legal for these deliveries weren't anything legal whatsoever. The ship shouldn't even be here but due to a manipulation of events from the men overseeing the delivery, they'd managed to weasel their way in and now there they were, about to receive several steel crates containing tonnes of illegal drugs. There were crates containing cocaine, heroin and marijuana. All of these were banned by the authorities, and the men collecting them were going to make a killing off of them. They could only imagine how much money this stuff was going to be worth. They might even make millions with all these drugs to deal out!

They were keen to get this over with so they were working quickly, the nearby crane already unloading the first crate full of drugs off of the boat and onto the tarmac loading bay. The last thing the criminals here wanted as any pig in a police uniform coming after them before they were finished. They were confident nobody knew about this and nobody could squeal on them but they still had to be quick. In this city, you could never be too careful, especially with Batman and his protégés on duty. As soon as the first crate was lowered, the lock was cut to pieces with bolt cutters and the doors were flung open, revealing the illegal contents inside.

"There's the first lot, get them into the trucks and move quickly!" barked one of the men.

Several of his goons moved in to unload the shipping crate and carry the drugs to the fleet of lorries that were waiting on standby to take them to their hideout. Their boss had demanded that they be done in a certain amount of time and there'd be a severe pay cut if they were late. The men carried out all the boxes, one at a time, to the waiting lorries. They were huge and had large, square trailers to carry the goods in. There was room for plenty of the drugs to be stored in. In a matter of minutes, the first shipping crate was emptied and all the drugs had been put in the trucks. Now the men all gathered around as another crate was unloaded from the ship. They watched it slowly swing around, the crane whirring as it moved, and the crate was lowered slowly to the ground.

"How many more after dis one den?" asked one of the men, a scrawny, skinny man who looked like he did a lot of running.

"Just one more then we're done here." another said, this one the man in charge, "Tell the drivers that once every truck is fully loaded, they can go."

The skinny man obeyed, jogging off towards the convoy of trucks waiting to drive off. As he left, the man in charge smiled with glee as the crate was fully lowered onto the tarmac.

"Mandragora will give us all a raise for this." he purred to himself, "All them drugs ripe for the picking to dish out to any dumbass who wants them."

He approached the crate with the bolt cutters to chew the padlock open with so they could get the crate open and the goods unloaded. While this was happening, the skinny man had reached the fleet of trucks and rapped one the door to one of them.

"Hey, you in dere, da boss says that once da trucks are all fully loaded, ya can take dem outta here!"

He received no response. He banged on the door again.

"Hey, ya deaf or somethin' I said once da trucks are fully loaded, ya can take dem outta here!" the skinny many bellowed.

Once again, he received no response. Sighing, he grabbed the door handle and flung it open.

"What's da matter, yer ears not workin' or…"

The runner's words quickly died in his throat as he saw with horror the answer to his question. The driver hadn't been ignoring him…for he wasn't even alive. He was lying against his seat, an arrow in his neck and a hole in the windscreen in front of him, shards of glass scattered all over the dashboard. His chest was drenched in blood, all seeping down from his neck where the arrow had hit him. The skinny man stumbled back, his face as white as a sheet. He ran over to another truck to warn them that one of the drivers was dead. But he quickly saw that the second truck's driver as dead too, an arrow in his neck just like the first. He looked over at the remaining trucks, seeing they all had holes in their windscreens, suggesting that every single driver had suffered the same fate. Who could've done this and why?! He was about to run off to warn his boss, but he never took more than two steps. The last thing he heard in his life was a whooshing sound. Then…nothing more. He collapsed dead on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his back. The shooter emerged from behind, looking down at him to see if he was dead. Seeing he wasn't moving, it moved on away from the convoy to take out the men unloading the crates.

None of the men carrying out the boxes of drugs were aware that there was somebody targeting them as they unloaded them from the crate to take to the trucks. Many of them never did find out for the mystery attacker crept up on any men approaching the trucks and shot them dead with arrows before they could put any of the drugs away. It noticed that all the remaining men were at the crates. That was good, they were all together and open targets for its arrows. The shooter was a raven-haired woman dressed in a cloak and costume that concealed her identity. She carried a crossbow, the hi-tech kind that could fire arrows much faster than a normal crossbow. It could also rapid fire, able to shoot more than one arrow at a time, as well as store more than one arrow at a time. The woman's cloak contained plenty of spare ammo so she wouldn't have to worry about running out. She moved quickly and quietly towards the rest of the men. Nobody noticed her so far. They were too busy unloading the crate to notice anything. However, one of the men carried a box of cocaine to the trucks and noticed the dead men that should've been loading their boxes into them. He gasped in horror, nearly dropping his load.

"Hey, what the hell?!" he exclaimed in shock, "Kyle, someone's been shooting our men!"

Kyle was the man leading the operation. He turned around, surprised at what he was hearing. Somebody was shooting his men? That was impossible! He hadn't heard any gunshots! Who could be shooting at them and somehow not be noticed? Even guns with silencers still made a bit of noise!

"You're joking right?" Kyle asked nervously.

"Nope, they're really dead!" cried the man who had spotted them, "Not from bullets though…but from arrows!"

"Fuckin' hell, you think Green Arrow's preying on us?" Kyle exclaimed.

"Nah, these arrows ain't green Kyle." the man pointed out, "And I think Green Arrow doesn't kill anyway."

Before he could speculate anymore, an arrow shot out from nowhere and embedded itself straight through the unfortunate victim's head. He collapsed onto the floor, the tip and end of the arrow still sticking out of his head. Kyle gasped and quickly darted towards the crate. His men were under attack and he wasn't going to let this murderer get him! He ran inside the crate, intending to hide inside so he couldn't get shot, while also calling out to his men.

"Everybody, drop the drugs! There's some maniac out there shooting arrows! Get your weapons out and kill the bastard!" Kyle screamed frantically.

All his men obeyed, drawing out guns that had been concealed in their jackets the whole time. It sounded strange to them that they were up against somebody armed with arrows but they weren't going to stand idly by and let these attacks continue. Kyle had a gun of his own but he wasn't about to go out there and start shooting at whoever was killing his people. He was a dirty coward and was always happy to sacrifice his goons to anyone if it meant saving his own skin. He stayed in the crate, closing the doors to make himself feel safer. His men roamed around the docks, looking for any sign of their attacker. Their guns were pointed ahead, ready to shoot the moment they saw anything move. One of the men was stricken down by an arrow to the head, collapsing onto his side and dropping his gun. His comrades saw this and began wildly shooting despite not having a clear vision of their target, bullets spraying everywhere randomly and ricocheting off the tarmac. It was a foolish mistake for they ended up wasting a bunch of bullets and had to spare a few precious seconds they couldn't lose to reload. That gave the shooter time to take them out before they could fire their guns again. The costumed woman aimed with her crossbow and fired three shots at once, taking down three men instantly with an arrow to the chest each. Unfortunately for her, the remaining men could now see her so as they reloaded their guns, they now had a target to shoot at. She was standing atop a nearby crate, looking down at them all with serious eyes through the scope of her crossbow.

Now she'd been spotted, the crossbow-wielder decided to change tactics. She leapt aside as more bullets came hurling towards her, jumping off the crate she was on and throwing something towards the men. She'd swiped a bag of cocaine out of one of the boxes earlier, feeling it would come in handy. The bag was obliterated as the men shot at it, causing the powdery-substance to fly out into the air from the bag and cloud their vision. It looked as if it had randomly decided to start snowing over them, only the snow was cocaine powder instead of frozen water. The gunmen couldn't see their target for the moment and what made things worse for them was the fact the wind had changed direction, blowing the powder into them so it started filling their eyes and mouths. Blinded and hardly able to breathe, the men coughed and spluttered while trying to get the powder out of their eyes. They were completely helpless as the costumed woman took them all out with more arrows to the head or chest. In a matter of minutes, all of Kyle's men were dead on the ground, blood seeping from their arrow wounds and staining the tarmac.

Kyle had heard all the gunshots from inside the crate he was hiding in and fell nervous once he'd heard them silence. What was going on out there? He kept close hold of his gun, his knees knocking as he braced himself. Would the killer think to look for him in here? He quickly got his answer for the doors flung open and the archer-girl stormed inside. Kyle could see that she was no vigilante he'd ever seen before. This was no Batman or Green Arrow, nor was it even Batgirl. The woman was dressed in a grey costume with purple gloves and purple boots with a black cape with white trimming draped over her shoulders. Her face was concealed by a purple mask that curved up in two points and she had a utility belt around her waist, the buckle marked with the single letter of "H". She also wore a Catholic cross that held her cape together, the golden religious symbol sitting on her chest. Her blue eyes were devoid of any mercy. Kyle could see she had a killer streak to him and would shoot him dead before he could ask anything. He quickly raised his gun and shot at her. The costumed woman was expecting that move so she dodged and fired a shot from her crossbow, the arrow burying itself into his shoulder and causing him to drop the gun. Pain had numbed his arm and hand so he couldn't hold it anymore. Kyle howled in anguish, clutching his wounded shoulder. His sleeve was quickly drenched in blood and it trailed down his arm. The woman put her crossbow away on her belt and stormed up to the man, her face a mask of fury. She grabbed Kyle by the jacket and jammed her face into her own.

"You nearly shot me. How rude." she snorted.

"You little bitch! Ugh, ya think you can just waltz in here and steal our goods?!" Kyle cried, his voice strained and hoarse, "I dunno who you are, Maid Marian, but when the boss finds out what happened here, he'll rip you to pieces!"

"The name's Huntress, actually, and I hope he does find out." the woman scoffed, "I'm dying to meet him. Who is your boss by the way? Is it Mandragora?"

"Like I'll tell you shit!" Kyle sneered, "You may as well kill me for all I care!"

"You're unlucky; all your other men are dead so I need you alive so I can get some information." Huntress said, her voice full of mock pity, "What makes it even worse is that your men all died quickly and painlessly whereas you will get to suffer whatever hell I'm about to put you through. I already shot you in the shoulder, do you want me to shoot you somewhere even MORE painful?"

Her eyes darted down to his groin, an impish smile crossing her lips.

"I can't imagine you'll enjoy a shot to your manhood." she purred darkly.

"You wouldn't dare!" Kyle whimpered.

"TRY me." Huntress dared, "You know I'm willing to kill so what makes you think I'm adverse to torture?"

That did it. Kyle wasn't willing to keep his secrets anymore, not when he could receive an arrow to the most painful part of the body he could receive one to. Wanting to spare himself unimaginable pain, Kyle cracked and the secrets he contained quickly spilled out of his mouth.

"I give, I give! I'll tell you! Yes, We're working for Mandragora! He's running a drug operation and he wants us to deliver all these drugs to him!"

"Where are the drugs being taken to?" Huntress demanded.

"One of his drug stashes!" the man screamed pathetically, "It's a building in Gotham's Industrial District!"

"Is Mandragora there?"

"No! He's very cautious! He never shows up in the person unless necessary! You'll never catch him!"

"Then at the very least, I can shut down his operations for tonight. Do you know the way to that building?"

"Yes! I'll drive you there if ya want! But don't think you'll make it out alive! You're gonna be dead the moment you walk in there!" Kyle declared confidently.

"Don't feel so sure of yourself." Huntress muttered, "You'll take me to that building and if you dare steer me wrong, I'll kill you."

"How do I know you won't just kill me when we get there?!" Kyle squeaked feebly.

"You're helping me score a hit against Mandragora, that's enough reason for me to spare you." the costumed woman answered, "Now get a move on, my trigger finger's feeling rather itchy."

Kyle nodded compliantly. Huntress put him down and allowed him to lead her out of the crate and to one of the trucks so he could drive her to her destination. Kyle yanked the dead driver out of the truck and climbed into the driver's seat with Huntress sitting beside him. Her crossbow was in her hands and pointing at him, making the point very clear: drive and if you stop, I'll shoot. The poor man didn't dare refuse, starting up the truck and driving off towards Gotham's Industrial District. Huntress sat still, her eyes fixed on Kyle so he didn't try anything stupid like wrestle the crossbow out of her hands. She was looking forward to this. A slight against Stefan Mandragora would be worth just as much as getting to kill the man himself! It would serve him right for taking away her family like this and leaving her alone for most of her life! She had never forgotten that fateful day where he'd flipped her world upside down and changed her forever...

The Bertinelli household, several years ago…

An Italian dinner was never something to be missed. Over at the Mafioso household that the Bertinelli family called home, Helena was seated at the dinner table with her mother, Maria, her legal father, Franco, and her half-brother Pino. In this home, dinner time was family time and the Bertinellis enjoyed having this time together, dining in luxury while getting to bond over the dinner table. Although in a criminal family like this, there was nothing much to bond over, especially as this family contained an abusive husband and father like Franco. Helena was sat at the end of the table closer to her mother and brother, as far away from her father as she could sit. Maria noticed that her precious daughter was still rubbing at her cheek, which seemed to be bruised pretty badly. The underneath of one of her eyes had turned a shade of mauve and she couldn't seem to be able to open it fully. The Sicilian woman had feared that Helena would endure some of her father's abuse. After all, she wasn't his child, but the result of an affair with a man from a rival gang. Franco had every reason to beat her as much as he did to Maria herself. She still held out hope that one day, he'd ease his abuse and come to love her as his own, even if she wasn't his.

Franco Bertinelli, a lean, tall man with slick black hair and a moustache, wasn't just the husband of Maria and father of Pino and Helena. He was the head of the Five Sicilian Families in Gotham City, known to everyone by his title of capo di tutti capi. The title was Italian for "boss of all bosses", making him the most powerful man in the Mafia, even if he answered to the don, Stefano Mandragora. Very few ever dared to cross his path and he relished in his position, abusing his power any way he could and making his position as capo di tutti capi very apparent to anyone in the Five Families. It was why nobody would ever dare to stand up to him or challenge his authority. And yet all this power wouldn't be enough to save him from what was about to happen.

The plates were all brought to the table, containing a simple starter of Caesar salad with croutons and dressing and served with slices of serrano ham. The main course, organic pasta served in pesto sauce with parmesan cheese sprinkled on top, would come after. As the starters were settled down, the family all bowed their heads and clasped their hands together in prayer. Franco recited the prayer completely in Italian, concluding with the word "Amen" with the rest of the family repeating that word. Now they'd given their thanks to the lord, they picked up their forks and began to eat.

Hardly a mouthful was consumed between all the family before a door suddenly flung open and somebody stormed inside. The Bertinellis all looked up in disbelief, wondering who could possibly be coming over at this time and why. Franco had a look of anger on his face, disgusted that somebody dared to interrupt a family moment like this. He rose from his seat and saw a masked man striding towards him. He was covered from head to toe, dressed in a large coat that concealed much of his body, gloves and a mask that only had holes cut in for the eyes. There was no chance of him being recognized by anybody. The man was huge, much larger than even Franco himself and had shoulders so thick that he could probably carry a car on them. Franco's eyes narrowed and he burst into an angry torrent of Italian, demanding who he was and why he'd come here. The man only identified himself as "Omertà". Omertà is a Southern Italian code of honour, the code placing importance on silence in the face of the authorities. It meant if anyone questioned them, they would remain in silent defiance, refusing to say anything to them. It made a fitting name for this stranger for he'd remain silent if anybody questioned him about what he was about to do.

Omertà reached into his jacket and took out a gun. It was a small pistol that had a silencer attached to it. It was clear to Franco that this man didn't want to attract too much attention with his kill. Nobody would hear the gunshots, even if they were living close by to this place. Franco stared at the gun in horror, unable to believe this was actually happening. Maria, Helena and Pino remained fixed to their seats, too afraid to move in fear of the gun being turned on them.

"Why?!" Franco blurted. It was all he could say.

"Mandragora's orders." Omertà replied, his voice as deep as a tremor, "Nothing personal. He just wants no vendetta amongst him or the families."

He squeezed the trigger and the gun coughed out a single bullet, barely making any noise thanks to the silencer. He had wanted his kill to be quick and effortless so he'd aimed for the head on Franco. The capo di tutti capi was thrown back onto the table, landing back-first onto his plate of food and sliding off of it onto the floor. He dragged some of the table cloth with him and pulled several plates and cutlery down onto the floor with a clatter and a smash. Blood seeped out of the bullet wound in his head. His eyes were still open, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling as if trying to admire it one last time. There was a scream of terror from Maria, putting her hands to her mouth in horror as she saw her husband fall. Omertà turned the gun on Pino, shooting the poor boy dead before he could register that he was being targeted. He collapsed over in his seat, lying face-up on the floor with blood trickling down his face. He had only been a teenager, now he would never become a man like his father before him. Helena was taking all of this in with wide eyes of terror, unable to believe what was happening. This had to be a nightmare, this couldn't be real, none of it! Omertà then turned the gun on Maria, the terrified woman raising her hands and begging to him in Italian. Helena stared, her heart pounding as she watched her mother become the next target for this mystery man. Omertà ignored her pleas, aiming straight for the head like he did with the other two.

"Spare the sister…" he muttered to himself.

That was what Cassamento had said to him. But unfortunately for Maria, he had gotten confused by what Cassamento had meant. To avoid angering Maria's brother, Tomasso Panessa, he wanted her spared. But Omertà thought Helena was the sister, thinking of her being the sister of Pino Bertinelli and thus, what Cassamento had meant by "Spare the sister". And so, he made his mistake by shooting Maria Bertinelli dead. Blood sprayed from her forehead, some of it splattering over her daughter's face, making her flinch in disgust. Helena watched in petrified horror as her mother's body collapsed onto the table, blood staining the table cloth and seeping over onto her unfinished plate of food. The eight year old stared at her, tears streaming down her bruised face as it settled in what had just happened. Everything had become a blur to her upon seeing the man shoot her legal father dead and only now was she coming to grips with what she'd witnessed. She babbled frantically in Italian, wailing for her mother as she lay dead on the table with blood still seeping from her head. Omertà looked at her with pitiless eyes before putting the gun away and turning on his heels.

"You got lucky you little shit." he muttered to himself, "The boss didn't want you dead as well."

Helena didn't hear him. She didn't even notice him walk away as she threw her arms around Maria's body, crying into her hair and wailing in anguish. She was left alone in the dining hall, nobody around to hear her cry and mourn for her family. Blood, tears, death and despair, that's all it was for Helena this very night. She had a feeling that she would never stop crying, no matter how long this night would go on for…

Gotham's Industrial District, Mandragora's drug stash, now…

Mandragora's drug stash was one of the most secret facilities in Gotham. Even Batman himself had yet to uncover this place. It was a rundown, grimy, dingy, poorly-lit building that hadn't seen use in a while and looked as if it were more fitting a home for rats than actual people. The building consisted of several hallways and small rooms that had little to offer. It was hardly a living space, but it wasn't meant to be. It had enough amenities, namely fridges and microwaves to prepare food and drinks along with toilets to use, so that people could hang around in this murky building until it was time to receive or send out drugs. It had no address so it would be impossible to find on a map and only the people who came here knew where it was. This in turn was why Mandragora had been so successful at running his operations; this facility had no way of being located by the authorities so they weren't ever to find it…until tonight…

A stocky man with a thick beard walked down the dimly lit hallway to the single door at the end. He knocked on it and waited for the man who was on the other side to come over and answer him. The door opened up and another man, this one taller and more top-heavy than the first, stepped out.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice like sandpaper.

"The boss wants to know if you've finished counting all our money in there." the bearded man said.

"Good timing, I just finished it." the larger man said, "We got over twenty million stock piled in there from all our drug sales!"

"Twenty mil?!" the bearded man exclaimed, "Holy shit, THAT much?! Heh, imagine how much more we'll make when tonight's delivery gets here! We'll probably make double that amount!"

"I hope the boss plans on giving us all a fair share of that dough and doesn't keep it all himself." the other man muttered, "I like to feel like my services are well paid."

"Maybe we can persuade him." the bearded man suggested, "How about you take a break and I'll go in there and wait for the delivery to arrive?"

"Thanks. I could do with a drink after all that counting. Damn worked up a thirst it did!" the top-heavy man said.

He headed off to another room while the bearded man went inside to await the arriving drugs that were expected to arrive tonight. As the stocky man went into the room, he saw a bunch of his friends sitting around a circular table, playing cards and taking swigs from ice-cold beer fresh out the miniature fridge they had. They welcomed him in and offered him a seat and an unopened bottle of beer. He opened it and gulped down a few swallows greedily. One of the card players watched him with amusement.

"One would think ya haven't had a drink in a week!" he remarked.

"Damn well feels like it!" the top-heavy man agreed, "Nothing like ice-cold beer to quench your thirst."

"You guys start the next game of cards, I'm off for a piss." said another card player.

He was bald and had a weaselly looking face. He had been playing badly at the card game and it showed in his eyes. He got up from his chair and walked out of the room to leave the others to play their game. He strode down the hallway, the horrid stench prickling at his nostrils. Would it kill Mandragora to have this place cleaned every once in a while?! The smell was making him feel ill! He turned a corner and headed off to the toilets to relieve himself. He never reached his destination for a single arrow shot out from the end of a corridor and embedded itself into the back of his head. The man collapsed dead on the floor from the shot. The one who had fired it, Huntress, walked quietly down the hall to where the dead man lay. Then she turned and headed around the corner towards the three rooms that were up ahead. Upon arriving here, she'd already planned on what to do. Here in this hallway, it was more cramped and less spacious so she had less places to hide and not much room to move. So she would try her best to take out these men as quickly as possible, as well as use this place to her advantage in any way.

Huntress approached one of the doors and listened carefully, her crossbow still in hand. She could hear voices, suggesting there was possibly five or six men in there. That was fine enough, she could take them out easily. Steeling her nerves and exhaling slowly, Huntress brought herself into a relative moment of clam, the perfect moment of peace and steadiness to prepare herself for action. She could hear her own heart pounding with anticipation. A few seconds passed before she seized the door handle and swung it open. The men inside were so taken aback by what they were seeing that they were delayed in reacting to this intruder. Three of them were shot dead by Huntress's crossbow before they could protect themselves. One man was able to draw out his gun and begin firing at her, forcing Huntress to weave around the room to avoid being shot. She tried to shoot him but another man tackled her from behind, forcing her to drop the crossbow. The masked woman spun around and socked him in the face, disorienting him enough so she could swing him around in the gunman's path, using him as a meat shield as his buddy opened fire on him, killing him instantly.

The top-heavy man who had just joined the card game heard the commotion in the other room and came out into the hallway to see what was going on. He yelled out in amazement as the door was torn clean off its hinges and a man lay sprawled on the floor after having crashed into it and knocked it down. The door had buckled, split almost in two at the middle so it lay with one half on the floor and the other leaning forlornly against the wall. The top-heavy man looked into the other room to see what was happening. The last thing he saw was a microwave hurling straight towards him at the speed of a flying bullet. He didn't even see who had thrown it at him, nor did he feel it collide with his head as it knocked him out instantly upon impact. He crumpled and lay still on the floor next to the one who had knocked the door down. The other card-players filed out of the room having heard the microwave hit the top-heavy man and the bearded man who had gone into the end room to wait for the drug deliveries burst in on the scene, wondering what the hell was happening.

Huntress emerged from the other room, blood running down the side of her mouth and blood on her knuckles and face. She didn't look as if she'd even been hurt by the men she'd just taken out in that room. One of the card players pounced on her instantly, trying to grab hold of her neck but Huntress grabbed him first and throttled him while punching his face repeatedly. Another man tried to help by drawing out a knife. He stabbed down at Huntress but she wheeled around with the man she was strangling and held him in his way, causing the other man to stab him in the back. She shoved the stabbed man into him, knocking him off his feet. Another card player slipped on a pair of knuckle dusters and punched Huntress in the face, drawing blood from her and sending her reeling. Then one of the other card players grabbed her by the hair and yanked her towards him, kneeing her several times in the stomach. Little did they realize was that Huntress had protective armour under her costume so she was able to take the blows well enough so that their attempts to hurt her would be meaningless. The car player could feel it on his knee, surprised that his attempts to bring her down seemed to be hurting him more than her. Huntress grabbed him by the head and slammed it down onto her own knee, knocking him out instantly. The man with the knuckle-dusters lumbered towards her and punched her again, sending her careening into the wall. Then he and another man pinned her to the wall and tried punching her in the head as hard as they could but Huntress just refused to go down. She placed both hands against the wall and pushed away, sending herself and the other men stumbling backwards into the other wall.

They let her go and she quickly took them out by elbowing one in the neck and head-butting the other. The two men crumbled to the floor and lay still. Huntress leaned against the wall, panting as she tried to catch her breath. This fight was beginning to wear her down, she'd have to finish it and fast before they took advantage. The man with the knife had picked himself up, throwing the man he'd accidentally killed off of him and slashed at Huntress, managing to nick her across the back of her shoulders as she was still catching her breath. For ease of movement, Huntress didn't have protective armour around her shoulders so the knife slash cut a line in her cape and costume, drawing blood as it cut through. Huntress winced but didn't let it bother her as she drew out her crossbow and pistol-whipped him with it. As soon as he was brought down, she shot him dead with an arrow to the neck. Two men crept up on Huntress and grabbed her by the cape, hauling her back and causing her to drop the crossbow. The vigilante cried out and grunted as she was hurled into the door at the end of the hall with a clang sound ringing out as she hit it. She was momentarily disoriented from the impact and was helpless to defend herself as the two men who'd grabbed her cape started pummelling her. Refusing to give up, Huntress roared angrily as she spun around and backhanded one of the men across the face, throwing him to one side. Then she drew out an unused arrow from her cape and stabbed the other man through the neck with it, killing him in an instant. She threw him on the floor and kicked the man she'd back-handed in the face. He tried to fight back but the kick had knocked his senses out of whack so he couldn't aim his punch properly and missed. Huntress then grabbed hold of him and swiftly twisted his head to one side, snapping his neck. The sound tore right through her and made her shudder briefly but she shook it off as the dead man fell to the floor. She panted again, feeling the weight of this fight beginning to bear down on her.

The bearded man charged into the intruder, aiming his shoulder at her as he rammed into her like an angry bull. He slammed her against the wall, winding Huntress for the moment and wrapped an arm around her head, squeezing tight and refusing to let go. Huntress struggled, using all her strength to fight back against her opponent. Another man came at her and tried to attack her but she kicked him away and sent him crashing into the wall. He fell onto the floor but didn't stay down long as Huntress and the bearded man ended up staggering into the room where the card game had been set up. He ran in after them, only to be kicked down again as Huntress, who was lying on the floor with the bearded man after they'd fallen over, swung her foot into his ankles. He hit the floor hard, breaking some of his teeth upon impact. Huntress stood up and just as the bearded man was about to, she grabbed his head and slammed it hard against the table, knocking him out cold. He collapsed onto his side, blood running down the side of his face where he'd hit the table. One more man, the one that she'd thrown into the door earlier, ran into the room and threw himself at her, tackling her down onto the floor and grabbing at her wherever her could, snarling viciously. He'd come to and wanted revenge, slamming Huntress's head against the floor as best as he could. His attack left a nasty mark on her face and left splodges of her blood on the floor. Huntress shook him off and got to her feet, throwing herself over the table towards the mini fridge full of beers. She opened the door and threw a bottle at the goon that had tackled her. The bottle hit him, shards of glass slicing his skin and soaking him with beer. He cried out in anguish and then the raven-haired woman silenced him with one last arrow from her crossbow, hitting him squarely in the chest and bringing him down. He lay still, his face soaked with blood and beer. It seemed as if that was the last of them. Huntress stayed still for a minute, waiting for any more men to come at her.

None came so she stumbled out of the room, panting heavily and putting a hand over her chest. She felt exhausted having fought all those men. She also wondered how she'd explain her injuries tonight to her friends at Gotham Elementary and the students she would be teaching. At least tomorrow was Sunday so it wouldn't be a school day for her, giving Huntress a whole day off to recover so her injuries wouldn't look as bad when she came in on Monday. Once Huntress had caught her breath, she made the cross sign by drawing a line down her face and touching each shoulder with her fingertips, quietly asking for God to forgive her for this massacre. Then she staggered over to the door at the end of the hall and opened it. She could see that this was the storage room where all the drugs and money was kept. There was a large door at the end of the room, suggesting that this was where the trucks delivering the drugs she'd seen being unloaded at the docks would have arrived. Smiling grimly, Huntress reached into her belt and took out a box of matches she had with her.

"Your operations tonight Mandragora…all up in smoke." she sneered.

She struck one match and threw it onto the pile of drugs. The money was kept away from them so none of the banknotes would burn too. Huntress would be sure to let the GCPD know about it so they could put it to better use and leave Mandragora empty-handed. The boxes of drugs were quickly eaten up by the flames as they spread and consumed everything they touched. The smell that rose from the burning stash was strong and revolting. It made Huntress feel pleased. Not only did her family's killer have nothing to exploit the poor people of Gotham with, these drugs wouldn't ruin anybody's lives again. She was just about to leave until she heard something. It was a noise that took her by surprise. It sounded like…someone calling for help.

"Hello? Why can I smell smoke? What's happening? Please let us out!"

Huntress turned to see that there was a door in the wall nearby. It made her feel sick as she approached it. Mandragora was keeping people captive in here too?! Was there no low he wouldn't sink to? How long had these people been locked up in here? What made it worse was that the voice she'd heard had been a child's voice. What could Mandragora want with children? The Catholic heroine didn't want to know, the answer would likely make her feel sicker. She approached the door and tugged on it. It wouldn't budge. That wasn't a problem. She simply aimed her crossbow at the lock and shot it, breaking it apart and rendering the door unlocked. Before she opened it and went inside, she took off her mask. At the very least, she could show these children that she was a person and not some freak in a mask. She opened the door. There, sitting huddled in the corner, were two children, a boy and a girl. Their eyes were wide with fright and they looked grubby and dirty, suggesting they'd been locked up for a while. They stared at Huntress fearfully, but the raven-haired woman just gave them a soft smile to try and comfort them.

"It's OK children. I know you're scared, you've been locked up in here for quite a while." she said tenderly, "But you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm taking you out of here and back to your parents. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes." the boy whimpered.

"Come on kids, let's go then. We don't want to stay here too much longer." Huntress offered.

She walked out of the room with both kids hanging onto her as she carried them. They were relieved to be out of that room and would be reunited with their parents at last. They took note of the burning drug stashes but didn't say anything. They didn't care what it was or why it was on fire, they just cared about leaving this place. Huntress walked them quickly through the hallway as she re-entered, not wanting them to see too much of the chaos that had been happening here. All the blood and dead men was the last thing these poor kids needed to see. Once they were past all the bodies on the floor and around the corner, Huntress headed out of the building, just in time to hear the first sirens approaching. She'd leave the kids with the cops and be out of here to rest at home for the night.

Her work here was done, and she was already imagining the anger on Mandragora's face when he heard what she'd done…

You can tell this story is heavily influenced by the Marvel Netflix shows. It even has its own hallway fight! ;)

And now we've had our debut of Huntress, the Birds's more violent and kill-happy member. So how will she end up meeting Batgirl? Will she become less of a killer? You'll see in later chapters as for now, the next chapter will debut the final member of the Birds of Prey, "Black Canary"...