A/N: I know I haven't updated lately. My only reasoning is...that my muses are dirty little bastards who abandon me at will to go party with the gods. Forgive me.
Chapter Ten: Dark Knight
There are some who'd say that Huntress was reckless, dangerous, and without any positive morals.
She'd have to agree, but she'd never admit it. Especially not to Batman, the pompous ass.
However, speaking as a reckless, dangerous vigilante armed with many weapons, the least of which was her mind, she knew that even though several of his points had merit, she couldn't afford to listen to him. Not now, or ever; not with lives at stake.
"He's your sidekick?"
"Yep, just like Robin."
"That's not wise."
"You think I don't know that, Bats?" She asked, her anger riding rough and ready on her voice. She and Batman stood on the roof, both very aware that the other Heroes could hear every word, but both unwilling to give in and leave. This was her headquarters, and she'd never acquiesce to the man she considered a mortal enemy.
"I think that you're only thinking of yourself."
"I've tried to make him go away. To stay home. You more than anyone understand me when I say that children do not belong in capes."
The slight dig at his own ineptness in saving his former Robin, Jason Todd, had Batman narrowing his eyes in dislike. "Is it so hard for you to be rid of a child, Huntress?"
She smiled, her lips curving but her eyes staying just as heated and focused. "Would you prefer I use your method or my own?"
The church was tall and stately in the morning light. It was almost 9 a.m., Sunday morning, and the building, unlike many others in this neighborhood, was packed. The grotesques at the top had often provided her with a place to hide and watch over her part of Gotham, while also giving her a delicious sense of irony.
She staked out the mob by hiding in the shadows of their Catholic church, where they came to pretend to efface themselves on God's mercy. In truth, it was just another business meeting and pissing contest. The big dogs brought their bitches out to parade around in all their Gucci glory, enjoying the envy that often polluted the stares of their opponents. The mooks came out to be at their bosses back, and to eye up the fancy ladies that came. Together, it was a maelstrom of testosterone and greed.
Even the priest was Italian and on the take. After all, restoration of a hundred-year-old church wasn't cheap.
Helena stepped from the Lamborghini she owned, finding the ride pleasantly different when one is a passenger rather than the driver. She didn't often give up control, but when she did, both she and Vic found pleasure in the turn-around.
She wasn't here as Huntress, and this turn-around she didn't find pleasant.
Vic, looking Irish and wholesome with his red hair and freckles, dressed in (what else?) Armani took her arm, gently twining his fingers with her's. "Are you ready?"
"To walk into a dangerous situation, and to poke the sleeping lion?" She asked with a quick smile, saucily retorting before he could comment on her pale face and slightly trembling hands. "Always."
She'd not been inside this church since her family's funeral.
"You're going to get someone killed."
"I'm trying to protect people, not get them killed."
"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."
"Then where do the bad intentions lead to?" She retorted before turning to face the visage of rooftop upon rooftop. She thrust out her hands, enfolding all that they saw as she spoke. "This is my territory, I clean up here. I don't bother you, you don't bother me. That was the deal; I suggest you stick to it."
Batman opened his mouth, doubtless to place more recrimination on her. She wouldn't let him. "Keep your lectures and your advice, I want neither. I may not be a Hero, I may not be a good person, but I protect my own. I don't want Franco, I want him to go and have what a mob-kid can call a normal life." She turned to him, her eyes accusing. "He wants to be here, who am I to stop him?"
"When the walls fall down, Huntress, don't say I didn't warn you," he said as he turned, his black cape blending in with the shadows so that she almost instantly lost sight of him. His voice echoed from that dark place though, to haunt her. "I'll be watching."
"I expect nothing less," she replied softly, watching as Robin and Nightwing launched themselves out of the window just below to join their mentor in the skyline. Robin blew a kiss to her before disappearing into the shadows as well.
The steps leading to the large wooden doors were shallow, and made the walk up awkward. Helena recalled that as a child, they'd seemed so high. Things change so much from childhood to adulthood, perceptions altering as ideas and faith grew larger and smaller.
The sermon had already started, and no one expected the creaking of the entrance. Who would be so bold as to interrupt the Roman Catholic Sunday Mass? Truly, who? For countless years, it'd gone on as planned, two hours of talking and praying, and furtive whispers and threats for good measure.
Today, that changed.
The sunlight spilled into the Cathedral, blinding all inside for a few moments. The hundred or so people inside turned in their seats, trying to make out the silhouette that stood there. A woman, that was clear from the curves, but who?
She wore Armani as well, a somber black suit. Pencil skirt, cropped jacket, and large appropriately floppy hat. Her Sunday best, so to speak. She stood there, framed by the sunlight for a few minutes, delighting in the shocked whispers and shuffling feet as the lowest goons on the pole, who sat in the back, stood to either block her or verify her identity. She gave them no chance.
Pulling on Vic's hand, she walked down the aisle, hips swaying as her Manolos clicked. She walked farther down the aisle, and higher up the totem pole of Mafia power, stopping only when she'd reached the first aisle, where the five Family Fathers sat, including the capo de tutti capi, Franco's grandfather. Franco himself sat in the third aisle, behind the sons and daughters, yet in front of the cousins and their parents. Helena smiled at the old priest, a small apology on her lips.
Though she'd never bothered to return to Church after returning to Gotham, Helena knew that in all technicality, as the last remaining member of the Bertinelli family, her place was at the most in the second row. She had neither backing nor status enough to warrant front row.
She'd always hated propriety.
Leaning down to her own godfather, Tomaso, she brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Greetings, Uncle."
His eyes dancing with mirth and rage, he returned the greeting. "Hello, Helena."
"Might I join you?" She asked, letting none of her own rage and amusement enter her gaze. She kept her face perfectly blank, leaving many in the congregation to wonder what her motives were. Most there knew who she was, but few had ever met her. Still, her name held power and already many were plotting how to use her to their advantage.
Tomaso arched an eyebrow, well aware of her intentions in coming here. He moved his arm, obviously to point out a clear space in the row behind him. Once again, she gave him no chance.
As soon as his arm had moved, she slid into the spot next to him, dragging Vic (who was grinning) down beside her. "Thank you, godfather."
Whispers again, louder and more obvious. Who was this girl that she garners a spot in the front row? What kind of power did she have that she was allowed to do such?
The entire hierarchy of the Five Families of Gotham City was being shaken up before their eyes, and no one could do anything about it. After all, this was a House of God. Violence just wouldn't do here.
As the priest began to drone on once again, and slowly the whispers abated under the glares of their illustrious leaders, Helena leaned into her Uncle's shoulder, and began to whisper, "Beautiful day, isn't it, Uncle?"
"It is indeed, Helena. Why are you here?"
"Curiosity. I give you a warning that you do not heed."
"I find warnings both irritating and illuminating, but never do I bow to another's wisdom."
"Even that of your own niece?" She asked, turning his face to her's so that eyes that perfectly matched that of his sister's could stare into his soul.
"Even that."
"I don't want you to be hurt, Uncle."
"I don't want you to be hurt, Niece."
She nodded, using the corner of her eye to monitor the rabidly watching and note-taking dozens behind them. "There are plans in place, to take down the Five Families."
"They've been trying for centuries to do such, Helena. They've yet to succeed."
"They might this time."
"We'll always live on. There is no ridding of us. When we fall, others will rise."
Helena smiled, old lectures coming back from her childhood, as her father's words echoed out of her mouth. "The evolution of man."
"Yes," Tomaso replied, still whispering, his face close to her's. "Take your friend and leave."
"The sermon isn't over."
"It is for you. The Fathers will not stand for insolence."
"I care not for them."
"I care for you."
"I thought you said if we met again, it would be blood between us?" She asked, nuzzling her nose into his shoulder.
He nodded slowly. "Perhaps I lied."
"Perhaps, when you're in prison, I'll come visit you."
He grinned, a smile almost identical to her own. "Perhaps, when my enemies kill you, I shall visit your grave."
"Perhaps I'll be leaving now," she replied as she stood, again interrupting the sermon. Vic wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding a softly smiling Helena into the aisle and toward the door.
"Already tired of poking the sleeping lion?"
"I think I've gotten their attention," she replied, watching as again whispers fluttered about and notes were taken. "Now, we just wait to see if they take the bait."
"Did Don Panessa understand the message?"
Helena brushed Vic's cheek with a kiss before sliding into the car. "I hope so."