New Gotham Nights - Huntress Mix
Fandom: Birds of Prey TV
Character: The Huntress - Helena Kyle - Batman and Catwoman's Daughter
Theme: Angst and Anger
Art & Fiction: goth_huntress
Comments are like music to my ears!!!
1. Abandonment - Bif Naked - Fic
2. Spear and Magic Helmet - Evil Stig
3. Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Pat Benatar
4. Fighter - Christina Aguilera
5. Violence - Bif Naked
6. Cat People (Putting Out Fire) - Gosling by David Bowie - Fic
7. Trying to Make Me - Lennon
8. Make a Move - Lostprophets
9. Morning After - Linkin’ Park
10. Push It - Garbage
11. Before I’m Dead - Kidney Thieves
12. Don’t Cha - Pussycat Dolls
13. Too Bad About Your Girl - The Donnas
14. Helena - My Chemical Romance - Fic
For Lyrics
Cat People
With a rush of cold wind against her face, the dark shape flashed across the light of the full moon like the shadow of a great bird of prey for a brief second in time, the Huntress’ seemed to hang in space defying the laws of gravity before tucking her knees into her chest, rolling over twice, then landing with catlike grace on both feet on the roof before running full tilt towards the next leap into space and while her prey launched itself from roof top to roof top. “Oracle,” she said as looked down at the blood that had grown cold on her hands from the victim of the wild meta that had started hunting the night like a rabid wolf. “I can’t catch this guy.”
“Liar,” her best friend and mentor teased from their lair in the Gotham Clocktower. “You’re just having too much fun chasing him.”
“OK, this is very true,” her eyes flickered from blue to green and back reflective as a cat as she caught sight of her prey hiding behind a large satellite dish. She could see the moonlight sparkling on the female creature’s scaly skin. Helena’s hand was starting to itch; she hated the feel of blood on her hands. Hated that it brought back to her in vivid living color the first time blood had stained her hands, the hands of a sixteen-year-old girl trying to stop her mother’s life from washing away into the Gotham City gutter that had spawned so much evil. With a wrinkle of her nose, she rubbed the blood from her palm onto her supple leather pants. “I’m enough of a cat to like the chase as much as the kill.”
Gritting her teeth, she pushed off the ledge of the tall glass tower she’d been perched on, her long black cloak billowing behind her, to land silently behind the meta-woman. The hero that Oracle had trained told her to make a sound, do something anything to reveal that she was there, and could easily take the woman out before she had a chance to strike back. But, the child of the Catwoman could feel her instincts urging her to kick the woman off the side of the building before she could make a move against her. With a smirk on her full lips, she cocked her head at the killer who had led her on an hour-long chase over the New Gotham skyline. “Tag, you’re it.”
Abandonment
Huntress watched from the shadows as the large caped figure of her father sprang from the spire of the New Gotham Cathedral, and glided towards the shadows of the inner city. She felt her muscles tense, and forced herself to relax. This was a game of tag; she never expected to be able to play. She was the Huntress, and the Batman was her prey. Years of betrayal and rage fueled the fire in her gut, making her gnash her teeth at the very sight of the Caped Crusader.
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He was supposed to be her father. He was supposed to love her and take care of her now that her mother was dead and buried. But he had failed her again and again. She’d started out towing the line, doing everything she could to be the perfect little girl even though her heart had been torn out and left bleeding in the gutter next to the murder weapon. He’d been unable to be a father to her then when she’d been so wracked with grief that she’d started stealing things just to feel alive, just to get his attention.
Then came the night when he’d gone into his study, and she’d never seen him leave from her perch on the stairs. He and his “son” Dick Grayson had been in there for hours, and she’d watched until Alfred opened the doors. She hadn’t been able to see neither her father nor Dick, and after a good long wait Alfred seemed to have been swallowed up by the room too. She’d finally given up, walking on cat silent feet through the aging manor, and popped open the locked door with a quick twist of a hairpin, just like Selina had taught her. The study was empty.
She looked around, picking up this and that, then investigated the piano. It was old and sounded out of tune. She could see fingerprints on a few of the keys more than others, and picked out the tune they played. It was then she got the surprise of her life when a door opened behind the grandfather clock. Curiosity was something bred into her from both of her parents; only back then she only thought it was the cat parts of her, so she quickly made her way down the twisting stairs deep under Wayne Manor.
The sounds of the water fall mingled with the cries of bats made her even more curious as she padded along silently. She could see lights down below, and hear the sound of voices, including her father’s. “You bastard!” she screamed at him from the darkness when she saw the fall of his long black cape, the gloved hands and the cowl covering his head. She leapt from the top of the steps, throwing herself at her father, her hands pounding on his armor covered chest. He didn’t try to stop her. He just let her beat on him until she was out of breath. “You’re the fucking Batman, and you let my mother die! I hate you! I hate you!”
**********************
“Hi dad,” she purred as she stepped up behind him. She wondered if he could smell the poison she’d gotten from Cheshire under her nails. Would he let her get close enough to scratch him? It would only take one good scratch. Cheshire had promised that all she had to do was draw blood. What would the mercenary have thought if she’d known that Huntress was going to do it to kill her father? He hadn’t let her get this close since that time in the cave, so very long ago. “So looks like we’re going to have to share New Gotham. Do you want to flip a coin over who gets which neighborhoods?”
Helena
“So Helena,” the perky blonde leaned back in her chair, the ever-present pad of yellow paper on her lap. “What are your goals in life? You’ve told me that Bruce Wayne is your father. You could go to any school in the world without worrying about a dime. Why stay in New Gotham?”
Helena wondered what Dr. Quinzel actually wrote down about their little talks. Did she chart out Helena’s deep dark secrets? Or did she just doodle because she was bored. Quinzel was different than any of the other shrinks Helena had gone to since her mother’s murder. She always seemed to be distracted about something, like she was listening to someone else. If Helena didn’t know better, she’d have thought that she had a little voice in her head like she did with Barbara guiding her every move. Helena liked the difference. It meant that while Quinzel was a sounding board, she really wasn’t interested enough to really pry into her life.
Why did she stay? Duty, she stayed because it was her duty to pick up where her father left off. She didn’t like Bruce Wayne, liked Batman even less, but she couldn’t stand the thought of someone like the Joker ever getting a toehold in the city again. She didn’t want to think about other children crying helpless while their parents bled out in front of them. “I like it here. I’m young, got years to think about what I want to be when I grow up, but whatever it is I want to do it on my own. I don’t want anything from my father.” Least of all his damned sense of duty and honor, but try as she might she couldn’t get rid of it. Oracle only made it worse being her own personal Jiminy Cricket.
That was the biggest reason she kept coming to see Dr. Quinzel. She could talk to Barbara about anything, but Oracle was just too moral at times to really understand the little evil voice that whispered in Helena’s ears. Sometimes she expected to see a little Batgirl perched on one shoulder with angel wings while a little Catwoman with horns and pitchfork egged her on from the other. She could talk about almost anything to Quinzel, anything except being Huntress. With the doctor she could just talk about being a normal person from a dysfunctional family.
“Things would have been very different if my father had known about me,” she turned about on the obligatory couch, tugging down her cropped off t-shirt above her flat toned stomach, and let out a deep sigh. “I loved my mother dearly, but she probably should have told him about me. I don’t blame him being a crappy father. He just didn’t know about me in time to care.”
Harley hid her grin by chewing on the end of her pencil. She loved it when the Batman’s daughter spoke ill of the dead. “So you’re saying your father was emotionally challenged?” It made her day to know that the man’s own child hated him as much as she did.
“That’s an understatement.”