Author: Raven5by5


Disclaimer: Most certainly not my characters. Rights owned by D.C comics, Warner Bros etc. Not making a single penny out of this, so feel free NOT to sue me J

Synopsis: Part 1 of  3 Set on the same night . Huntress ponders over her life on a cold winters night.

Rating: PG (UK rating)

Authors Note: Wanted to write 3 ficís about The Birds of Prey ladies as individuals, partly as an intro to the characters for newbies, but also to show their depth.

Feedback: Always welcome, email Be constructive, thanx. Feel free to request stories you may wish to see & Iíll do my best to put pen to paper.

Distribution: If you wanna put any of my fics on other websites just ask.

I love & hate this city all at the same time. Itís true what they say; there is a fine line between love & hate. Just as the coin of Harvey Two-Face has two opposing sides, so does this city.  On one side I detest the twisted underbelly of sadistic nihilism New Gotham holds. The dark soul of an angel fighting each day & night to regain itís place in the heavens, to once again to become righteous. Then thereís the flip side, a city of amazing potential with a willingness to offer its citizens an abundance of opportunities. Itís not about finding a balance here in New Gotham, itís about helping it to regain itís true self, to help it become a fortuitous haven of the people & for the people. Nothing less will suffice.

As I race across the rooftops, the freezing cold of the nightís air stings my eyes as it wisps over my face. Itís beautiful tonight. The lunar light reflects of the snowcapped urban jungle, highlighting it with an eerie glow. In the streets below, multi-colored Christmas lights offer the citizens of New Gotham a kind of comfort & hope for the Yule Tide season. Iím always amazed by the blissful ignorance they have, but maybe itís for the best. The secret war that rages every day & night in this city, the constant battle between good & evil, is best kept in the shadows away from innocent eyes.

My breath turns to mist as I exhale the warmth into the cold air. Pausing to look over the cityscape, I think back to the days I was able to look into a mirror & see innocent eyes staring back at me. Maybe Iíve seen & done too much to ever regain my innocence lost. That is where my hate lies. I hate that the deeds of others have made me into the person I am today. Itís agreeable that we all have choices on what path we take in life, but some times, just sometimes, there are circumstances that steal choice out of the equation.

Crouching over an icy gargoyle that looms into the night, I recall the night that my mother was murdered. She was an amazing woman, always full of surpriseís, but most of all she was my entire world. Never a day went by that she didnít make me feel elated to be alive, to welcome every opportunity to better myself with open arms & an open heart. The day she died I felt my soul melt into the shadows, darkness was knocking on my door & I invited it in with every fiber of my being.

Things could have turned out so different if my mentor, Barbara Gordon, hadnít stepped into my life to put a halt to my self-destruction. I was out of control in a big time Ďrevengeí kind of way, with a mind for violence & a willingness to indulge in such acts. Confrontation was my answer to everything, teachers, peers & generally anyone who crossed my path. I saw the face of my mothers killed in more or less every person I met; a rage fuelled teenager with no intent on ever backing down. I suppose Iím still like that to a certain extent, just probably more effective on the issue of anger management.

Somehow Barbara had managed to ground me, before I either ended up dead or locked away in Arkham Asylum. I have to admit Iím one hundred percent grateful to her, but each day is still difficult. Once a person has dwelt in the darkness, survived on pure aggression itís not easy to keep on a level. You feel like screaming to the heavens, crying out your soul just to feel that you still have a place in the world, just to know that youíre alive. The constant feeling of your demons biting at your heals is difficult to shake off. It takes control to be the person I am today & that control is powered by an excessive amount of energy.

Glancing down beneath me, I see a young man holding the door of a cab open so that an elderly woman is able to gain access to the vehicle. She thanks him for the kind gesture before the car pulls away from the sidewalk. That is what I love; small acts of kindness that go unnoticed to random passers by. Moments of pure unselfish behavior spontaneous in their nature, concluding with the most simplistic of results, a smile on another persons face.  These are the things that shape us as people, acts that make this city & the world an easier place to live in. It gives me hope, not just for humanity, but for myself.

A smile plays upon my lips as Iím reminded of Dinah. She is the embodiment of that glimmer of hope. Life has been cruel to her in so many ways, yet she retains her optimism, more so than I ever could. To two of us are such opposites, yet we mirror each other through so much tragedy. Her mother died & I saw the hope fading from her soul, ebbing away leaving behind a space to be consumed by hate. Somehow she pulled it back & I admired her for doing what I could not. I see her teenage eyes looking to me for guidance, for a role model, truthfully I donít know if I can give her that. What can I teach her? Hate? Vengeance? Sometimes I feel thatís all I have to offer.

Snow begins to fall, white feathers of ice coating New Gotham with a glistening winter blanket. Somehow it doesnít feel so cold as before. Maybe itís my rooftop sprint warming my body or maybe itís the notion that for once all is well in the city. There are times when all I want to do itís to expel my energy, my frustration on the nearest New Gotham criminal I can find. Alternatively I adore those nights when the undesirables either decide to sleep or keep their scheming confided to secret hideaways. Itís these nights I can race over the city feeling free, unbound by duty & societies confinements. I sometimes sit for hours with my comm set switched off, just watching life carry on regardless, lost in my thoughts.

I move to stand on the edge of the gargoyle, tall & proud. If you were to ever ask me if I have doubts about my way in this world, I would answer truthfullyÖYes, I most certainly do. But for every doubt I have oceans of mindful contentment; an almost primal sense that whatever happens, however events unfold, there is a reason behind it all. There is no good, no evil itís all subjective; one mans version of a crime is another mans way of life. Ultimately it all comes down to people & respect. I believe that we are worth saving, a second chance to prove ourselves. This is why I do what I do.

Focusing my eyes on the building beneath me I pick my perfect landing spot. Inhaling the cold air, I stretch out my arms as wide as Meta humanly possible. I feel like a raven preparing to take flight, adrenaline coursing through my body as the rush of anticipation rises. Exhaling into the night, I feel a smile beam across my face just as I take the leap. Freezing wind rushes past me as I glide through the night, twisting & rolling my body in a fashion that would make any Olympic gymnast envious. Pure freedom.

I am HUNTRESS, Guardian of New Gotham. Delivered to this life through darkness & untamed fury. The choice I had been denied the moment my mother was murdered, the night my world caved in, I have now taken back. My path in life may not be one hundred percent clear & no doubt Iím gonna make enough mistakes to eventually make me question my own judgement. I guess they call that the learning experience. Yeah, I love & hate this city all at the same time, but Iím working on it. After all Iím only Meta human.

ÖContinued in pt 2: DINAH.

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