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Helena’s options aren’t good.
She could try to get back to her base, and stitch herself back up, but she’s gotten far enough into another gang’s territory that she would almost be certain to run into someone on the way back. She won her last fight, but she isn’t sure that she can win another, not starting out in this condition.
Her other option is even riskier. From what she can remember, she’s close enough to the GCPD’s territory, and she isn’t on great terms with the new police force itself, or how the commissioner is running things. However, the civilians in that territory are more normal and safer to approach than the ones here. She’s more likely to run into someone whom she can trade with for medical supplies, or even convince to help her, than she would be in most other territories, especially the one she’s in right now.
An imagined rosary slides between her fingers as she weighs her next move. If she’s going to get moving she should do that soon, before light starts returning to the sky and No Man’s Land wakes to fight another day.
GCPD territory would be the safer option. A wordless prayer passes her lips as she heads southward.
At least she’s been working on her stealthiness. Now that the rumors of his return are spreading there’s less need to make herself known, and it makes the Bat more believable. Part of her hopes that Batman notices, too, and might be impressed or at least appreciative. Hopes, even though she knows that would never happen.
She likes to think that she believes in God more than she believes in luck, but both must have forsaken her tonight. Helena sees the glint of a badge in the polluted moonlight and isn’t able to flatten herself behind a wall before its owner is aware of her presence.
“Who’s there?”
Helena’s heart jumps at the familiar voice, but she forces herself not to move. Whatever Renee was to her could have changed in this new world. Cops who used to be friendly to vigilantes have soured on them under the GCPD’s new rules. Hope floods her veins regardless.
“I said, who’s there? I’m warning you, I'm armed.” Renee repeats more forcefully, and Helena makes another decision that she hopes doesn’t turn out to be the wrong one.
“It’s me.” The air is thick but enough light filters through for the stark lines in Huntress’s costume to be visible, the ones she hopes Renee will recognize. She holds out her hand in surrender anyway. “It’s me, Montoya.”
There’s not enough light to make out the nuances in Renee’s expression, but from what Helena can tell the policewoman’s stance relaxes. Not all the way, though.
“You should get out of here, Huntress.” Renee keeps her voice low, matching Helena’s, like they’re a secret that’s going to get caught.
Helena grits her teeth. “I’ll leave as soon as I can, I swear. I just need some help.” Please, she adds mentally, but she can’t risk saying it out loud. Not yet.
Renee curses under her breath and Helena’s own breath shakes. “The GCPD doesn’t get involved in other people’s turf wars,” she says, moving closer to Helena. Helena doesn’t back away.
“It’s not that.” Helena makes the mistake of shifting her weight, just in case, and it unleashes a new spike of pain up her side. It’s too much after all she’s endured to get here. She sags against the wall in defeat. At least she can trust Renee to not kill or report her for it. The worst she’ll do is leave, and hopefully Helena can rest for a moment before the potential of running into another officer.
Renee does the opposite. She rushes to Helena’s side, hands moving without hesitation onto Helena to assess the damage.
“Jesus, Huntress, what happened?”
“Are you on patrol?” Helena asks, first. She needs to be sure this won’t get either of them in trouble.
Renee shakes her head. “They forced me to take a break, again. I’m off duty.”
She gives Helena space to describe what happened, the injury if not the fight that caused it, and guides her into the building. Helena silently thanks God as Renee lays her down a table, carefully ripping her costume just enough to better dress the wound. Renee is even carrying medical supplies, despite being off duty. “You know me,” she explains needlessly, filling the space as she works, “I’ve ended up helping out a lot even outside of work, so it’s easier to keep these on me.”
“You don’t rest?” Helena knows she isn’t in a position to ask that, as she’s also been pulling double duty as Huntress and the Bat, but Renee’s just an officer. She isn’t used to constant hours and nocturnal habits. Helena’s rewarded with a sting of antiseptic that has her gritting her teeth again. She doesn’t know why she’s so soft. She’s handled worse with no reaction as recently as a few days ago, but being under Renee’s hands makes her feel more raw than before.
“Sorry, I don’t have anything to numb the area, and we ran out of liquor a while ago.”
Renee’s words elicit a dry laugh from Helena, which is all the relief she gets before the needle pierces her skin. This is the best place she could’ve ended up tonight.
About a week later, Renee finds herself back near that building. She doesn’t remember that it was the same one from that night, which is good for Helena, in this instance.
“We’re all vermin,” Renee had said to her coworkers. She meant it, too, and still means it now, but she can appreciate the irony in front of her that Gordon was trying to exterminate. The crude bat is bright yellow, as if it’s attempting to bring the light of its predecessor back home. Oddly poetic for a city as damned as Gotham, as even more damned as it is now, cut off from potential aid. A further irony: the sign is just high enough that it would be a halo on Renee, if she stood under it. At least Commissioner Gordon hasn’t been notified of this one yet.
She won’t tell him. Renee can’t fix the bat signal, but at least she can do this. At least she can help spread some hope. Or fear. Whatever works in this place.
wraithwings Tue 23 Dec 2025 03:54AM UTC
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