Azrael had stopped running away from the encounter she'd had with the Sicilian pushers and the so-called superheroes of Bludhaven. Every muscle, every bone, every tendon and ligament hurt. Even her hair hurt. It had taken her a half-hour to rid herself of the Azrael costume, to put it in the duffel bag designed for carrying it ( Read more... )

Huntress watched from her vantage point on a nearby roof. She was in Bludhaven, and here without backup. These people were not her family and kin. Her family, outside of what was left in Italy, were all dead. And this was a way of life she despised ( Read more... )