Preface
What's in a name? That which we call a rose, blah, blah, blah. It turns out that when you have to take fictional cities and translate them into real ones, names are important; at least the real names.
Metropolis is a no-brainer. The Big Apple. Gotham is a bit more problematic. It has been used to refer to NYC, but in the comics, it seems to be in New Jersey. For this story, however, I prefer to place it in Chicago since The Windy City stands in for the home of The Dark Knight in the movies. Star City is Seattle (natch), but Central City is a bit more vague so I chose St. Louis for the home of S.T.A.R. labs and the residence of the fastest man on Earth. Other locations will be translated as the need arises. Anyone who has objections to my version of mapping, please suspend your disbelief for the time it takes you to read and, I hope, enjoy this version of reality.
Patricia Walker, Hellcat, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Misty Knight, Colleen Wing, Matt Murdock, Kyle Richmond, and Nighthawk are the intellectual property of Marvel Comics.
Elizabeth Kane, Kate Kane, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Batwoman, Alice, Alfred Pennyworth, Julia Pennyworth, Superman, Supergirl, Kara Zor-el, Kal-El, and Carmine Falcone are the intellectual property of DC Comics.
This is a work of non-commercial fan fiction and not intended for, or to be used for commercial purposes.
Previously, in Hellcat Book 1: Hell Hath No Fury
Beth Kane, once known as Alice—the fractured, deadly creation of the Daughters of Lilith—began the slow path to healing after a powerful telepath named Aric helped reassemble her shattered mind. But redemption doesn't erase history. Beth's past as an assassin still haunts her, and her efforts to make amends have drawn her into a secretive alliance with Trish Walker, the vigilante known as Hellcat, and Julia Pennyworth, a covert operator with ties to both the Bat and Wayne families.
Together, they uncovered a criminal conspiracy stretching from Moscow to Manhattan, exposing corruption, trafficking, and violent power players hidden behind wealth and influence. Along the way, they forged a new kind of sisterhood—one built not on purity, but on survival, agency, and the choice to fight back.
Now, with old ghosts rising and new missions calling, Beth's road to atonement will take her further from the shadows—and deeper into the fire.
Chapter 1
The two women were nearly the same height, though the taller one wore brown contact lenses to conceal her bright green eyes.
Each of the women carried a pair of white shopping bags. Their heads were bowed as if in quiet conversation. The sun had long since set, and the illuminated skyscrapers of downtown Jeddah could be seen in the distance. They couldn't see the skyline—they were walking away from it, toward the entrance to Alawi al-Jabbour's compound. The lights on the street illuminated a sea of green. Plants of all shapes and sizes bordered the sidewalk, making a wide verdant buffer between the sidewalk and the outer wall of the compound. Two men guarded the wide entrance —one standing at the gap in the wall and another inside a small guard house.
Just as they came abreast of the driveway and the man guarding it, the shorter woman screamed and clutched her foot. The outside guard's grip reflexively tightened on his automatic weapon as the woman screamed again.
The taller woman looked at the guard. "أعتقد أنها التوت في كاحلها" I think she sprained her ankle!
The guard looked at his seated colleague. The man in the guard house shrugged. Both women were blocking the driveway.
"لا يمكنها البقاء هناك," the guard muttered. She can't stay here. "إنها تسد الطريق." She's blocking the driveway.
"ساعدونا!" The kneeling woman called to him. Help us!
Both men looked young. Young. Inexperienced. Always the ones left at the front gate on the overnight shift.
The standing man looked at his partner. He held his weapon in one hand and raised the other in the universal sign that said, what should I do?
"أبعدها عن الطريق!" he responded. Move her out of the way!
The man moved towards the woman and began to reach down just as the kneeling woman stood up and walked to the guard house.
"اتصل بشخص ما!" she said urgently through the glass. Call someone!
Several things happened in quick succession. The man reached down to the fallen woman just as she removed a powerful taser from her shopping bag. Her hand reached up and pulled the man down just as the other woman took a dark object out of her bag and stuck it to the side of the guard house and then took three quick steps back. The sharp electrical sound of the outside man being stunned unconscious was followed a moment later by a louder version as the EMP device sent out a powerful burst—lights died, cameras went dark, radios fried. Every electrical system in the guardhouse was down in an instant.
The first woman stood up and reached into her bag. She produced a metal aerosol can and attached a long wand to it before sticking the wand into the door vent and releasing the contents into the vent. The hiss of gas filled the small space. Thirty seconds later, the guard slumped forward, unmoving.
Beth looked at her watch. "One minute fifteen." Their rescue op was on schedule.
"Not bad," Trish said as she searched the motionless man in the driveway. She found what she was looking for before maneuvering the man onto her shoulder and concealing him behind a large shrub.
"No alarms," Julia said into both women's ears from her safe location in New York. "But at some point, they're going to notice that all their entrance cameras are dead."
"Let's hope they're paying more attention to the Saudi Arabia- Slovakia match," Beth said.
"Let's hope this guy's key card gets us all the way in," Trish said as she and Beth began to walk towards the well-light entrance.
Amal was in there somewhere. They weren't going to get a second chance. Beth was going to get her out, come hell or high water.
Amal al-Jabbour's wing of the compound was about as far away from her husband's as it could be and still be indoors. She knew that wasn't an accident. It was so he could bring one of his girlfriends home and she wouldn't know. Not that she could do anything about it if she did know. The door leading to freedom was locked. And guarded.
She knew it was nighttime. She could see that for herself just by looking out the window. The swimming pool was illuminated, as was the basketball court. But like every other night, there wasn't a sound to be heard unless she made that sound herself.
But tonight turned out to be not like other nights as the sounds of fighting became apparent before growing louder. When those sounds approached it became clear that her door was its destination.
"توقف! توقف وإلا سأطلق النار!" Amal heard clearly before a man's voice let out a sharp "Ah!" Stop! Stop, or I'll shoot!
She listened to the short struggle that followed before silence again prevailed.
Then she heard the electronic lock in her door click. The door swung open onto a familiar face.
"You!" she said as she got her first look at Beth.
She'd had a long time to consider what she'd do to the woman who dragged her back here kicking and screaming. Every version of that scene ended with the woman standing in front of her dying a messy death as she begged for forgiveness.
But the woman who'd kidnapped her had come back for her. She'd opened the door to Amal's gilded cage.
And Amal was tired of being in a cage.
"Were you expecting someone else?" Beth asked.
Amal's face was frozen into a mask of confusion.
This was the woman who found her in Paris the last time she escaped. Found her, and brought her back. Of all the people to break her out again — "What are you doing here?"
"I thought that was obvious. I'm here to get you out."
The door was still open. Amal could see at least three guards lying unconscious in the long hallway. She glanced at Trish before addressing Beth. "I'm only here because of you!"
Beth swallowed. She deserved that. She knew it.
"That's why it had to be me that got you out. Do you want to stand around and argue? Or do you want to leave before reinforcements show up?"
Amal swallowed hard as she inspected the two women. She grabbed her purse and a headscarf. "I guess we can argue while we're escaping."
"إخطو عليها يا أحمد," Beth said to the man waiting by the red pickup truck. Step on it, Ahmed.
"نعم يا رئيس," the man said. Yes, boss.
Amal didn't know him, but she knew the type. Mid thirties. Coarse dark hair streaked with gray. A long beard down to his chest, but no mustache. He'd been leaning against his truck smoking a cigarette when the three women arrived via a back alley. Thirty seconds later Beth, Trish, and Amal were all in the truck bed, covered by a tarp and fishing nets.
"It smells like fish!" Amal hissed.
"That's because he's a fisherman."
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To the beach. Then to a boat to Cairo. Eventually to a little place I know where no one will ever find you."
Beth didn't say it, but part of her wished she could stay hidden there, too.