A/N:

*pulls up podium*

*clears throat*

Hello! And welcome to the start of what is basically a Birds of Prey Chronicles thing by yours truly. Now, this is going to be a long-ass series of stories - and when I say long-ass, I mean long-ass - and it's going to be largely based on my BoP headcanons. And I figured, in the light of recent spoilers - are you as excited as I am? - that there is no better time than the present to kick this off.

Now, a few scribbles. This thing is a pain, organization-wise, for the simple reason that it has two sub-categories. First, the general series is To Be a Bird of Prey, which then divides into large chunks of the journey, or parts, the first of which is Origins. That first sub-category splits into another one, which are the smaller installments within the part. So, for this first one, it goes To Be a Bird of Prey - Origins - The Hunter and the Prey.

So, two sub-categories, and neither FFnet nor Ao3 allow for proper organization for that. So, what I'll do is, post each part as a separate story, and then clearly mark the installments in the headers within those stories. (It'll be a little easier on Ao3 since it allows for series). And I hope you're not as confused by this as I am.

And with that epic A/N out of the way, let's get down to business.

Warning for depictions of violence. It is on the graphic side - no detailed descriptions of evisceration or anything, but this starts with Helena's POV, and well, she does like her violence.

That all said, I hope you enjoy! ('cause I really am very excited to be writing this)

To Be a Bird of Prey

Origins

I. The Hunter and the Prey

Chapter One

Coast City was beautiful to most people. The long beach, the tall waves and the smell of the sea the wind carried. The heavy sound of military aircrafts every now and then, be it for tests or exhibitions; some people liked that. They stood and pointed – even clapped, sometimes. To them, the city under the sun was beautiful.

Helena didn't see any of that beauty. She came out when the sun went down, and what she saw were the darkness of what lived under the city, and the rats in the sewers.

And right now, she was chasing a rat.

The old subway rails held no light, but the rat did; the bright white glow of his cellphone's flash bounced and flittered, and Helena chased after it. The brittle wood and the gravel crunched beneath her feet while the blood rush thumped loudly in her ear, but she would catch him, any second now. The rat was one of her father's old associates, and he knew where he was; or at least, he knew someone who did. Her father still had friends who helped him hide, but she would hunt down every last one of them, until they finally led her to Frank Bertinelli.

They called her the Huntress after all.

The light grew closer and closer, until she could finally see the man within reach; she raised her crossbow and fired at his leg. He fell down with a yell, and Helena heard the soft crunch of bone when his face hit the inert metal of the rails.

She kicked his side to get him on his back, digging a knee into his gut as she pointed her crossbow right between his eyes. Blood poured from his broken nose and the gash that ran along his cheekbone; her hand found a fistful of his shirt. "Where is Frank Bertinelli?" she demanded.

The rat whimpered. Of course he did. "I – I don't know!" he gurgled, choking on his own blood. "I haven't heard from Frank in a year, p-please, I don't know!"

She didn't have the patience for this. Grabbing him by the throat, she hissed, "Then who does?"

He shook his head, coughing. "I d-don't know, I don't know!"

Helena removed her hand from his windpipe, moving it instead to the arrow she'd put in his leg; she grabbed and twisted. He screamed this time. "Don't lie to me!" she screamed back.

More whimpers and begging came from the rat, before finally, he spilled something useful. "T-the casino by the docks," he said. "Frank had f-friends there, they know – they know where he is, they help him – "

Helena dug her knee deeper into his stomach, to cut off his breath and his words; she had what she needed. She smiled faintly, and rose to her feet, crossbow loaded and pointed at his chest. "Thank you for your cooperation," she said, and pulled the trigger.

At night, the docks were right as she knew they would be; dark with foreboding and the uncomfortable sight of the water made black in the corner of your eye. Helena was fine with the darkness.

The casino she had been told about was right in her line of sight, from where she was ducked behind a dumpster; the stench made it clear there was at least one body there to be taken to the landfill for disposal with the other trash in the morning. She was in the right place.

Helena moved slowly, sticking to the wall of the back alley; she needed to find a way in, and to the boss's office. He would have the information she needed.

She had made her way right up to the back entrance, but there were two enforcers there, having a smoke; she could take them out. She raised her weapon, aimed and placed her finger on the trigger –

A shot rang out from behind her, missing her shoulder when she ducked and sending plaster dust flying instead. She rolled to the alley's opposite side, turning her crossbow away from the enforcers and to where she had come from; to the man who had shot at her, and he wasn't alone either.

She fired, putting one of the men down, but three were still left; and the other two were coming at her from the other side, with their own guns drawn. She wouldn't let herself get cornered.

She engaged them, putting her fists to their weak points and backhanding them with her crossbow, dodging their bullets and kicking at their guns where she could. But even with another one down for the count, there were still four left, and soon, her crossbow was yanked from her grasp. She resorted to hand-to-hand combat, and though she could match and surpass any one of them one-on-one, or two-to-one, four-to-one were not odds in her favor.

One of them grabbed her hair, and second later, another had her arms pinned behind her back. She kicked, screaming out in anger.

Soon though, they were screaming, too.

The filthy glass of the back alley windows shattered, along with the lone streetlight that cut the darkness; the high-pitched sound that surrounded them hurt Helena's ears – and the men's, too. They yelled and shouted, and she felt the pair of hands holding her let go and her captor's weight fall away. The men were hunched over, two of them on their knees, and all holding their hands over their ears.

Helena gritted her teeth through the pain and looked up.

Another woman stood before her, hand outstretched and fingers curled around what looked like a ball of bright blue light. Helena focused her blurring sight, and recognized it was a device – and if she had to guess, she would say it was causing the vibrations in the air that made her eardrums feel like they too were shattering as those windows had.

The woman blended in with the black of the night, save for the strands of bleach-blonde hair that stood out against the darkness; it took Helena a moment to realize the noise had stopped.

And that was her cue.

She kneed one of the men on the ground under the chin, enjoying the sound of his neck cracking under the impact; she kicked at his chest to put him to the ground for good. Her crossbow lay close by and she lunged for it, straightening just in time to see the twirl of a bo-staff send one of the other men to the ground. She vaguely heard him say something, spit out some insult as he scratched the ground for his gun; the bo-staff was under his chin next, and his neck snapped with a crack.

Helena felt someone grab her ankle and fired on instinct; the hold loosened and the third man fell at her feet, an arrow in his neck.

She turned around, too see the woman approaching the fourth man; the last one. "I need one of them alive!" Helena yelled, and the woman stopped in her tracks. She turned to the side a fraction, and though the darkness didn't allow her to see her eyes, Helena knew the woman was watching her. Eventually, she saw her nod, ever-so-slightly.

And with that, the woman was gone, just as quickly as she had appeared.

Helena stood unmoving for a moment, eyes trained on the spot where she had last seen her.

The device, the black-on-black get-up, the bo-staff; she knew who the woman was. She was on the hunt and never in one place for long, but she'd still kept tabs on the city she used to call home; rumor went, there was a woman in Starling, another vigilante. She had even been seen with the Arrow once – with Oliver. And rumor also went, she didn't tolerate men who attacked other women.

So, she knew the woman. She didn't know, however, what had brought her to Coast City.

A grunt drew her attention, and to the lone goon trying to get up from the pavement. Helena shook off thoughts of the other woman, and stepped forward. She had a hunt to get back to.

She grabbed the man by the hair, pressing the tip of her crossbow to his neck. Leaning in, she ordered, "Take me to your boss."