GOTHAM
She watched the intertwined lovers with a morbid curiosity, a longing that caused even her steely heart to give a sliver of emotion. The Huntress, perched atop the stone gargoyle in luxurious swathes of purple cloth, was drawn from the sight forcefully by the blaring of red and blue lights, paired with the echo of sirens, and each crept through the labyrinthine alleyways of the dark, foreboding city. Standing, allowing the midnight air to brush through her raven hair, the woman shot and grappling hook and stepped from the ledge. She swung downward before colliding gracefully against the tarmac, rolling with the skill of a gymnast and bounding to her feet. She gave pursuit. Huntress’s jaw was clenched but the scowl did nothing to remove her beauty. She tore through the alleys were a fervour, marked by the unadulterated rage that had filled her every waking moment since she’d been eight years old and this path had been chosen for her.
“Helena.”
Huntress paused but didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t need to. In the years since she’d retuned to Gotham, after her seclusion in Sicily, the former mafia princess known as Helena Bertinelli had made more than her fair share of enemies and she knew that Batman could be counted amongst them. In her mind, Huntress was the hero of her tale but the methods she’d often employed in her pursuit of vengeance had left her at odds with men such as Batman and the tedious number of followers that operated under his banner. On more than one occasion, Batman had handed her ass to her but she’d managed to make him bleed too. Her time in Sicily hadn’t been spent solely in academia and relaxing on beaches, Helena’s life had been stripped from her and it had spurred her into action. She’d affirmed that she would never be caught off-guard, left unprotected or deterred from her path.
This was inescapable, even if the heroes of Gotham couldn’t understand her motivations.
Batman dropped from the fire escape and walked behind her. His disappointment was clear on his otherwise stoic features. “I’ve warned you of this crusade before.”
“And, yet, here we are,” she quipped, unamused.
Batman sighed, exasperated. “I’ll ask nicely once more. Cease and desist. Whilst you’re . . . methods have been unsavoury at times, you’ve managed to do some good and your name can leave here unscathed. However, the moment you add murder to your repertoire, all of those opportunities go out the window and you’re nothing better than the monster you’ve been hunting.”
She glared, arms folded.
“I know what happened to your parents,” he continued. “I know who you are and why you’re here but the justice you want to dispense isn’t the way we fight crime in Gotham. First and foremost, this is my city and I won’t have you and those like you defiling it. You’ve trained yourself to be better than the average thug, so start acting like it, Huntress. Before I’m forced to make you.”
Huntress spun, assuming an offensive posture. “I’d like to see you try.”
“So, we’re doing this,” he groaned. “Again.”
Unlike Huntress, keen and overeager to prove herself, Batman held his position. As the Sicilian woman launched forward, kicking high, he managed to dodge her and grab a hold of her ankle, throwing her over his head and into a nearby wall with a crash. Smoke was still billowing as the purple clad heroine shot forward, wildly punching as the renowned hero avoided each strike without breaking a sweat. He moved to punch her in the gut but Huntress slid back, out of his reach, a grimace forming across her cherry-red lips. His reputation had preceded him, even before she’d arrived in Gotham, and she knew he’d been trained by some of the greatest combatants from across the globe. Batman was an amalgamation of their physical prowess but so she was see. Someone weaker would already have been on their way to the hospital. Huntress was anything but weak.
“This doesn’t have to continue, Huntress. Just stand down and desist,” he commanded but they both knew he had no authority over her. “You want to see justice done and it can be but not like this, there’s not justice in murder, only revenge.”
Huntress smirked. “Then I guess that’s all I really want.”
She pulled her pistol, firing a grappling hook into the air as it latched around the fire escape before drawing her up. Once airborne, she released and fell feet-first into Batman’s stomach, landing a direct hit. Sliding back, the bat threw two of his bat-a-rangs, each landed at either side of her. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d missed or fast enough to escape the clouds of gas that now floated around her. Launching forward, Huntress fought against the wooziness that threatened to overcome her. She hated Batman, he always had a trick up his sleeve, but two could easily play at that game.
Before she could respond, Batman slipped in from behind and wrapped his arms around her throat. She clawed at them but soon found herself hurtling over his head and slamming into damp ground. Huntress groaned, spitting the blood that now swelled in her mouth, but she didn’t relent. Instead, she forged onward and jumped. Catching his head between her thighs, Huntress threw herself towards the ground and Batman was hoisted into the air, colliding with the same patch of watch she’d hit earlier, but leaving much larger indentation.
She was panting as he moved towards her. The look on the face was all she needed to see that his bemusement had reached boiling point. Huntress attempted to outmanoeuvre him but Batman caught her by her utility belt, spinning her into his arms before pinning her to the ground, his arm crossing over her throat as he bound her arms with his other hand. Huntress struggled but was only able to glower.
“I won’t let you do this,” he leant his full weight on her. “Give. Up.”
“You don’t have a choice. I will find Mandragora,” she choked, his elbow pressing against her throat as she struggled for freedom. “And I’ll kill him when I do.”
Miraculously, Huntress drove her knee into his abdomen and slid from his reach. She had no time to worry about the injuries she’d sustained, instead the vigilante pulled her crossbow from within her cape and aimed it directly at Batman. There was a menacing glint in her eyes and, for the first time, the seasoned hero realised just how deep into the rabbit hole she’d become. It caused him to wonder for a moment if the Huntress was beyond saving, if she could truly become the hero she’d the potential to be or if she’d follow in the footsteps of her father, Franco Bertinelli, making the decisions that ultimately led to his life as a criminal and subsequently his murder. His thoughts were cut short as Huntress fired the crossbow and it tore through his right shoulder. Releasing an anaesthetic into his bloodstream, Huntress watched as he slumped over.
Huntress wasted no time on enjoying her victory, she’d a mission to finish and it would be concluded tonight. She stalked from the alleyway in pursuit.
She watched the intertwined lovers with a morbid curiosity, a longing that caused even her steely heart to give a sliver of emotion. The Huntress, perched atop the stone gargoyle in luxurious swathes of purple cloth, was drawn from the sight forcefully by the blaring of red and blue lights, paired with the echo of sirens, and each crept through the labyrinthine alleyways of the dark, foreboding city. Standing, allowing the midnight air to brush through her raven hair, the woman shot and grappling hook and stepped from the ledge. She swung downward before colliding gracefully against the tarmac, rolling with the skill of a gymnast and bounding to her feet. She gave pursuit. Huntress’s jaw was clenched but the scowl did nothing to remove her beauty. She tore through the alleys were a fervour, marked by the unadulterated rage that had filled her every waking moment since she’d been eight years old and this path had been chosen for her.
“Helena.”
Huntress paused but didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t need to. In the years since she’d retuned to Gotham, after her seclusion in Sicily, the former mafia princess known as Helena Bertinelli had made more than her fair share of enemies and she knew that Batman could be counted amongst them. In her mind, Huntress was the hero of her tale but the methods she’d often employed in her pursuit of vengeance had left her at odds with men such as Batman and the tedious number of followers that operated under his banner. On more than one occasion, Batman had handed her ass to her but she’d managed to make him bleed too. Her time in Sicily hadn’t been spent solely in academia and relaxing on beaches, Helena’s life had been stripped from her and it had spurred her into action. She’d affirmed that she would never be caught off-guard, left unprotected or deterred from her path.
This was inescapable, even if the heroes of Gotham couldn’t understand her motivations.
Batman dropped from the fire escape and walked behind her. His disappointment was clear on his otherwise stoic features. “I’ve warned you of this crusade before.”
“And, yet, here we are,” she quipped, unamused.
Batman sighed, exasperated. “I’ll ask nicely once more. Cease and desist. Whilst you’re . . . methods have been unsavoury at times, you’ve managed to do some good and your name can leave here unscathed. However, the moment you add murder to your repertoire, all of those opportunities go out the window and you’re nothing better than the monster you’ve been hunting.”
She glared, arms folded.
“I know what happened to your parents,” he continued. “I know who you are and why you’re here but the justice you want to dispense isn’t the way we fight crime in Gotham. First and foremost, this is my city and I won’t have you and those like you defiling it. You’ve trained yourself to be better than the average thug, so start acting like it, Huntress. Before I’m forced to make you.”
Huntress spun, assuming an offensive posture. “I’d like to see you try.”
“So, we’re doing this,” he groaned. “Again.”
Unlike Huntress, keen and overeager to prove herself, Batman held his position. As the Sicilian woman launched forward, kicking high, he managed to dodge her and grab a hold of her ankle, throwing her over his head and into a nearby wall with a crash. Smoke was still billowing as the purple clad heroine shot forward, wildly punching as the renowned hero avoided each strike without breaking a sweat. He moved to punch her in the gut but Huntress slid back, out of his reach, a grimace forming across her cherry-red lips. His reputation had preceded him, even before she’d arrived in Gotham, and she knew he’d been trained by some of the greatest combatants from across the globe. Batman was an amalgamation of their physical prowess but so she was see. Someone weaker would already have been on their way to the hospital. Huntress was anything but weak.
“This doesn’t have to continue, Huntress. Just stand down and desist,” he commanded but they both knew he had no authority over her. “You want to see justice done and it can be but not like this, there’s not justice in murder, only revenge.”
Huntress smirked. “Then I guess that’s all I really want.”
She pulled her pistol, firing a grappling hook into the air as it latched around the fire escape before drawing her up. Once airborne, she released and fell feet-first into Batman’s stomach, landing a direct hit. Sliding back, the bat threw two of his bat-a-rangs, each landed at either side of her. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d missed or fast enough to escape the clouds of gas that now floated around her. Launching forward, Huntress fought against the wooziness that threatened to overcome her. She hated Batman, he always had a trick up his sleeve, but two could easily play at that game.
Before she could respond, Batman slipped in from behind and wrapped his arms around her throat. She clawed at them but soon found herself hurtling over his head and slamming into damp ground. Huntress groaned, spitting the blood that now swelled in her mouth, but she didn’t relent. Instead, she forged onward and jumped. Catching his head between her thighs, Huntress threw herself towards the ground and Batman was hoisted into the air, colliding with the same patch of watch she’d hit earlier, but leaving much larger indentation.
She was panting as he moved towards her. The look on the face was all she needed to see that his bemusement had reached boiling point. Huntress attempted to outmanoeuvre him but Batman caught her by her utility belt, spinning her into his arms before pinning her to the ground, his arm crossing over her throat as he bound her arms with his other hand. Huntress struggled but was only able to glower.
“I won’t let you do this,” he leant his full weight on her. “Give. Up.”
“You don’t have a choice. I will find Mandragora,” she choked, his elbow pressing against her throat as she struggled for freedom. “And I’ll kill him when I do.”
Miraculously, Huntress drove her knee into his abdomen and slid from his reach. She had no time to worry about the injuries she’d sustained, instead the vigilante pulled her crossbow from within her cape and aimed it directly at Batman. There was a menacing glint in her eyes and, for the first time, the seasoned hero realised just how deep into the rabbit hole she’d become. It caused him to wonder for a moment if the Huntress was beyond saving, if she could truly become the hero she’d the potential to be or if she’d follow in the footsteps of her father, Franco Bertinelli, making the decisions that ultimately led to his life as a criminal and subsequently his murder. His thoughts were cut short as Huntress fired the crossbow and it tore through his right shoulder. Releasing an anaesthetic into his bloodstream, Huntress watched as he slumped over.
Huntress wasted no time on enjoying her victory, she’d a mission to finish and it would be concluded tonight. She stalked from the alleyway in pursuit.
ISSUE #6 (October 2018)
Written by Gavin McMahon Featuring: Huntress
Batman
Mandragora
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"MISSTEP"Huntress may have been left bruised and battered by her confrontation with Batman but she was no less determined to follow her sources in the pursuit of Mandragora. Even as she wheezed, taking each extended step as an opportunity to stretch out the muscles in her legs that pained her, her mind was solely focused on achieving her goal. It would be the fulfilment of thirteen years of training and anger, and the moment of release was closer than it had ever been before. Mandragora had once served as a minion to her father, an enforcer within Franco Bertinelli’s criminal empire, and through that connection he’d learned from one of the best. The morality of her father’s actions had been criminal but he’d run a well-organised network. Through those teachings, Mandragora had managed to usurp control of Gotham through alliances and shadow cabinets, without ever having to make a public appearance.
Still, Huntress had quickly discovered that she had a way with making men squeal like the pigs they were. After a year, the woman’s lucky break hadn’t come through any of her hard-earned research but through the ambivalence of the Gotham City Police Department and their outdated technology. Mandragora was being transported to ARGUS headquarters as a witness. It was intended that he would give evidence in protection for safety, tearing down the Gotham underworld, but also freeing himself from her. If Mandragora made it out of Gotham, if he attained that new identity, he would be in the wind and free to continue his criminal dealings elsewhere. ARGUS only cared with getting him out of the country. Huntress couldn’t let that happen, she couldn’t lose her final shot. Returning to her parked motorcycle, Helena began to pull at the wires that allowed her to hone in on the police frequencies. Even encrypted, the GCPD’s technology was outdated almost to the point of being prehistoric. Sifting through the channels, Huntress ignored all the standard call-signs for robberies, assaults and murder investigations. She’d done her fair share of heavy lifting since returning to Gotham but tonight there was only one job she had to see to its conclusion and it was all that interested her. Single-mindedness had been a trait inherited from her father, at times her tunnel vision had been her detriment and it was what kept her for being a great detective but Huntress would worry about her failings another time. “Convoy en route. ETA four minutes, sir.” Huntress smiled as she listened to the transmission. It wasn’t long before the key word reached her: docks. Throwing her leg across the bike, Huntress took to the streets in a blur, swerving through the traffic. The sedative her arrow had left in Batman would keep a normal human down for several hours but a man as resilient as the bat could prove trickier to subdue, she didn’t know how much time she had on the clock. Within a matter of minutes, and numerous traffic violations later, Huntress sidestepped from the motorcycle amidst the storage containers of the docklands. The smell of saltwater, stale as it was, hit her and reminded her of home. Yet, she’d no time for reminiscing. Scaling the nearest container, the vigilante hunched over and watched as the parked convoys – three of them – turned off their lights and the GCPD officers assigned to the transfer disembarked. As wholeheartedly as she believed in her mission, Huntress wanted to get through it without hurting any of the officers. Or at least, as few of them as she could. They were doing a job, she couldn’t fault them for that, even if she believed the system was broken for allowing such deals. It was then that she spotted him. The man of the hour. The face that had haunted her nightmares long before she’d watched him kill her parents. Stefano Mandragora. Mandragora was a hulking, slovenly figure. His hair, balding at the top but trailing along the nape of his neck, was almost as pale as his alabaster skin. Each footstep was almost thunderous. Huntress gritted her teeth as she watched the Sicilian crime lord, made in her father’s image, moved further into the light. Even now, when she closed her eyes, Huntress could vividly remember as he pointed the gun towards her parents, yelling threats in his low, droll voice and then firing without mercy. He’d given no thought to the bounties or opportunities her father had provided him. Mandragora had been prideful and greedy, as if his overbearing weight wasn’t already a testament to the latter. Huntress sprung, diving from the container, and throwing several pellets towards the officer’s that surrounded Mandragora. She’d counted maybe sixteen but the flurry of movement had made it difficult to keep track of them. Mandragora moved backwards as the officers pulled their guns from the holsters. Huntress moved towards them, dodging the gunfire. “I’d rather not hurt you,” she announced. A stray bullet struck the ground by her feet. She grunted. “Fine.” Attempting a non-lethal resolution, Huntress pulled her battle-staff from beneath her cape and snapped it to its full length. Trained gunmen, brave and true, the GCPD were no match for the vigilantes they encountered on a seemingly daily basis. Huntress rapidly tore through them, slamming her staff into each and disarming them before they had an opportunity to react. The purple-clad heroine looked around her handiwork. Fourteen. She must’ve miscounted. If she was to stick in the game after her vengeance was wrought she’d some skills to brush up on. Her attention turned to Mandragora, he’d been a silent observer to her attack but he registered no fear by who he now faced. “Mandragora,” she called from several feet. “This ends now.” He chuckled. “If this is some sort of double-trickery then they could have at least sent the Batman. Doesn’t a man such as myself deserve to be confronted with a real hero? Never send a child to do a man’s work.” “Listen here you overgrown beluga,” she snarled. Mandragora interjected. “Temper, temper, little one.” He moved closer, the roll of thunder returning with each step. “Now why don’t you run along and let’s forget you involved yourself in all this nasty business. This is no place for a girl with a stick.” His eyes looked at her battle-staff, mockingly. Huntress was becoming angrier with every condescending word that slipped from his tight mouth. However, of all the training she’d had over the years to become the Huntress, she knew the importance of allowing reason to prevail rather fury clouding her judgement. The white cross stretched across her chest was emblematic of the Roman Catholic beliefs she held but her heart was in strict juxtaposition with all of them. Growling, she moved towards the man. “I won’t run away from this,” she continued. “And I won’t let you either. Whatever deal the government is offering you, consider it null and void. You aren’t walking away from this. You’ve hurt too many people to walked scot-free. I’m never going to allow that.” “Never? Oh dear. You presume that you’ll be a match for me. I’ve taken on men and women much stronger than you, my dear, and I’ve remained around to tell the tale. What makes you so special?” “I’m not afraid to kill you, that’s what.” Huntress stormed forward, her battle-staff raised high as she slammed it against his shoulder. To her amazement, the staff shattered as splinters of plastic fell around her. Without hesitation, Huntress slipped back and balled her fists. She punched him directly in the stomach, noting that he’d yet to make a move, offensive or otherwise. Her hand struck his neatly pressed suit but she bounded backwards, striking him was like hitting a wall. Her raven hair fell across her face as she shook out her fist. “You’ll find I’m not as easy to intimidate as the errand boys you’ve been chasing for the last several months,” he smirked. “Are you really surprised, Helena? I expected better deductive reasoning.” Her jaw dropped. “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Mandragora laughed as he moved toward her. “A Sicilian-American girl with an axe to grind returns to Gotham in search of me, so focused on my downfall, and you don’t think I’d work it out? I remember the pitiful sounds of you sobbing in that closet, Miss Bertinelli. Why do you think I put on such a show?” He slammed his fist at her but she moved just in time as the earth cracked under his strength. “And now here we are. It’s almost poetic if I were to believe in such things,” he continued, as much for his own amusement as for informing her. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance all those years ago but, in a moment of mercy, I’d thought how much bother could a little girl be?” His red eyes darkened. “It turns out you’ve become quite troublesome. Just another cliché in a cape.” “If you knew I’d come for you, then maybe you should have just faced me like a man,” growled the Huntress. He shrugged. “Isn’t that what this little tête-à-tête is? A resolution to the nightmares I left etched in your mind. I’ve been torturing you for almost fourteen years and I’ve never even had to lay eyes on you until now. Your survival was a punishment, a reminder that you and those like you should quiver at the sight of Stefano Mandragora.” “I’m not quivering, old man.” Huntress ran towards him, leaping into the air and landing behind him. Thrusting some more pellets at the earth, the smoke billowed around them. Rushing headfirst through it, Huntress once again attempted a physical assault of Mandragora. This time, Mandragora saw fit to deflect her assaults. Each strike she landed hurt but Huntress fought through the throbbing in her fists as he caught hold of her by the neck. She couldn’t help but wonder why every assailant she fought seem to grab her by the neck. Her hands caught his as she attempted to free herself. “You really are nothing more than the pitiful creature I showed mercy too. Even now.” “Shut up,” she grunted. Huntress twisted her body, wrapping her legs around his wide throat, and flipped backward. Using his own weight against him, the vigilante managed to throw Mandragora overhead and into the ground with a crack whilst freeing herself. Spinning unsteadily, Huntress attempted to regain her balance as she withdrew her crossbow and aimed it at him. She’d swapped the bolts for those with jagged, pointed ends. Her heart raced in her chest as she stood on the precipice of the moment her life had been building towards for thirteen years. “Stop!” She looked briefly across her shoulder to see five of the downed cops had awoken and reclaimed their guns but Huntress soon found herself staring across the crossbow at the man she could’ve described as her mortal enemy. The albino looked up at her, his smile broad and horrifying. “Huntress, we both know that you don’t have it in you to kill me. You would’ve done so already. That’s the problem with you heroes, you don’t have the guts to finish the deed and so the villains of your past continue to haunt you for all of eternity.” His eyes darkened. “It’s pathetic really.” “Not today, Mandragora,” she replied coldly, firing the crossbow bolt as it tore through his eye, into his skull and carried fragmented brain matter through the air before hitting a nearby storage container. No remorse registered on her face and the GCPD opened fire on her. “Helena.” There he was. The familiar cowl staring down upon, he was almost like clockwork. “You’ve recovered. Good,” she said softly, not quite apologetically. “It was nothing personal.” “Keep your amoral rationalities to yourself,” Batman grunted. “That’s not why I’ve come here.” Helena sighed. “You’ve come to turn me in.” “No,” he replied. “Living with you’ve done is punishment enough. Mandragora was a thug, a criminal, but you’ll have to carry the weight of his murder on your shoulders for the rest of your life. We’ll see how that turns out.” She could barely hide her surprise but his words fell heavily on her. “Why are you here then?” “There was a time when I thought I could mould you. When I thought I could take the anger and grief that created you and shape it into a hero worthy of the mantle you carried. I was wrong,” he relented. “To use an old platitude, the problem with an eye for an eye is that everyone ends up blind. You’ve been blind, Helena. The means didn’t justify the end.” Batman moved towards the window. “Live your life. Carry this with you. I came to warn you that if I ever see or hear of the Huntress again, I will find you and I will put you down. You’ll be put exactly where you belong,” his grimace attested to his threat. “Oh, and get out of Gotham.” Before Helena could protest any further, Batman was gone. She sighed, attempting to block the truth in his words from her mind. There was no time to focus on the horrors she’d committed. The past would have to stay there if she was to cling onto her sanity. Strangely, although she convinced herself that she held no regrets, Helena now found herself cast adrift without an anchor. She’d murdered Mandragora but, as that had taken up such a significant portion of her life, she was unsure what step she should or would take next. Her eyes narrowed on the news report that flashed before her. “This is Vicki Vale with breaking news about last night’s vigilante attack in Gotham City. Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department has now released as statement detailing that in the early hours of the morning Stefano Mandragora, a renowned criminal kingpin, was murdered by the so-called heroine, Huntress, during a federal transfer. Further to that, the GCPD have now confirmed that they consider Huntress to be more than a vigilante and are undertaking investigations for the capture of Huntress so that she can be tried for her crimes.” Vicki looked saddened. “This is yet another example of vigilantes going too far when they take justice into their own hands.” Helena folded her arms solemnly as she watched the fragmented future from last night, including her killing blow to Mandragora, and the realisation set upon her: she’d become the monster she’d hunted, just as Batman had assumed she would. |