A/N I own nothing, all characters belong to DC and Warner Bros.

It's been a while since I wrote anything, but after a JLU marathon on Netflix last weekend this plot wouldn't leave my mind. Enjoy.

The funeral didn't have an open casket.

To Helena, this was the high point of the entire service. Being spared the finalizing pain of looking down into the coffin and seeing her mother laying there was something she didn't know if she could handle. Her mother, who had always been her stability in an ever-changing world, lay dead in a box in the front of the church.

Papa didn't cry. Even with his beloved wife in a coffin he stood tall with his head high. Mafia men were hard, and even in times of tragedy wouldn't show weakness. Most certainly not a Don like Franco Bertinelli was. No, with an entire empire of mob men looking at him for the slightest sniff of incompetence he couldn't afford to show his true pain.

Helena knew this. She did not fault him for his facade. She herself had taken a cue from her father's statue persona. Seated in the pews in her black dress, she sat with an expressionless face.

Her mother's coffin could barely be seen amid the onslaught of bouquets, crosses, and gifts of sorrow. Mama had always been one to love to go wild with accessories and Helen couldn't help but feel like her mother would have appreciated the decorations. The brightness of the flowers almost made it seem like this was an occasion of happiness.

But there was nothing to celebrate. Maria Bertinelli was dead.

At the ripe old age of twenty, Helena Rosa Bertinelli was no stranger to death. A Mafia Princess from birth, she had always known of the dangers that loomed in the business her father ran. She had seen many friends and family fall over the years to further their empire. But never had she experienced a death that hit so close to home.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today not to mourn death, but to celebrate life." The priest began with a heavy heart.

What a life it had been. Maria Bertinelli had been married to the most powerful Don in all of Gotham. She had lived a life of lavish luxury, but never did she sacrifice character for wealth. The Italian beauty had always been a joy to anyone who made her acquaintance. She had always been willing to make conversation and offer help to anyone regardless of their status.

But there were reasons for being so social. In the Mafia, connections were everything. Networking was one of the most important skills to be able to manage. Smart as she was as sweet, Maria made sure to charm all who met her and get on their good side. Befriending potential threats was her mother's greatest strength, undoubtedly one of the reasons her husband had gained and kept so much power.

No one wanted to mess with the Bertinellis. Between the fierce Franco with his ruthless displays of power and his charming wife who sweet talked possible threats into allies, the couple quickly assented into power. They seemed untouchable.

That is until a hit was placed on Maria, and the woman was murdered.

Who exactly it was that ordered the hit was a mystery being looked at with heavy scrutiny. Franco wanted the bastard's head on a plate. Helena wanted him six feet underground. Whoever had the sheer gall to murder the Don's beloved was a dead man to Franco.

The funeral was a solemn affair. No one wanted to acknowledge that Maria, one who so many adored, was dead. Least of all were the husband and daughter she had left behind.

Helena touched the rosary around her neck. Her mother had given it to her the day of her communion. It had been past down from her grande nonna to her nonna to Maria, who had given it to her. "When you wear this, you wear not just the strength of the savior, but the strength of all the women in our family." She had whispered to her daughter as she placed the necklace around her neck. "There is nothing stronger than the strength of three generations of Italian women."

Helena absently wondered if her mother's life would have been saved if she had worn the rosary. Perhaps the strength of her bloodline would have pulled her mother through the ordeal.

"Helena."

The voice brought her out if her thoughts. Helen looked up to see her father standing in front of her, his expression bleak. "Come, my bambino. The service is over."

The young woman rose quietly and walked out the church with her father. "Tell me we're not having an additional gathering after this."

"It's tradition, Helena. You know this."

"So? Papa, every moment we spend socializing is another moment Mama's killer is free. Why are we wasting our time with these people instead of going on the hunt?"

The limo driver opened the door to the sleek black limo. The duo climbed in. "I have my men looking into this as we speak. For now we must keep up this persona to keep order. There is nothing more I'd like to do more right now than put a bullet in that figlio di puttana's head, but we have to remain smart. Emotion can't dictate us."

Helena looked out the window as they pulled out of the church parking lot. Gotham blurred together as they drove. "Who would do this? Everyone loved her."

"I don't know. But whoever this was, they will pay." Franco swore, closing his eyes in pain. "Your mother's life was worth more than everything I have. I would trade it all for her to come back."

The brunette squeezed her father's shoulder reassuringly. "I know that, Papa. Mama did too. All we can do now is make sure her death was not taken in vain."

"We? Helena, you will have no part in this quest for vengeance. You are forbidden from anything that has to do with this."

"What! Papa, I-"

"I have already lost my wife, Helena. I refuse to lose my daughter to this life as well. You will not risk your life for this vendetta."

"Padre, you know I'm more qualified than almost all your men combined to shoot a target. Don't you think-"

"No. My mind is made up." Franco stared at his daughter next to him. "Helena Rosa, you are not to stick your nose in this, am I clear? I will not allow my child to become involved in this."

"I became involved in this the second someone dared to take my mother away from me." She hissed, "Don't make me sit on the sidelines and let that asshole roam freely while I do nothing!"

"You will not interfere!"

"They took away my mother, Papa! I refuse!"

Franco grabbed her by the shoulders. "Well I refuse to lose you! Let go of your emotions for two seconds and think of what you're asking me to do."

Helena took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She thought of how hard her mother's death had hurt her father, how he had locked himself in his room for three days upon hearing the news. She was all he had left of Maria now. If she died, he would be completely alone. "I... understand." She began slowly. "I don't want to hurt you further, Papa. I don't.'

"But...I also don't want to just sit around. I want to avenge her. Mama... Mama was too good for the death she had. I need to make them pay."

"And they will pay, my child." Franco muttered, his fingers brushing the trigger of the gun hidden in his pocket. "They'll all pay for what they've done."

In Gotham, the Gotham Police Department was abuzz.

Commissioner Jim Gordon sighed as he pressed a finger against his temple. He looked down at the massive stack of police reports on his desk. "This is all concerning the Mob?"

"Yes." Barbra Gordon, head of the investigation department and daughter of the commissioner, sighed as she looked at her father.

"This is insane." Jim muttered, "Why doesn't the Bat concentrate on them for a little while?"

"He's busy with all the big-name criminals. Between the Joker and Bane he doesn't have time for mobsters." Babs replied, "Those are our territory."

She pulled up a file on her laptop. "We might finally be able to gain some leverage on them, however. The Don's wife was murdered this week. That means that the families are going to be fighting, which also means they're going to get sloppy."

"Hopefully. I'm not sure how much longer we can-"

"Chief?" Came a knock from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Bullock. "This just came in for you, sir."

Gordon took the envelope and opened it. His eyes widened as he read over the contents.

"What is it?" Barbra asked.

"I think we may have just been given an opportunity to help take down the mob."

Helena had been slipping on a nightgown when a knock came on her door. "Come in."

Franco Bertinelli entered the room quietly. "May I have a word?"

"I believe that was five words."

"This is no time to tease." He frowned, "Helena, I've been stressing ever since your mother was taken from us. Her death has made me extremely uneasy."

"I know, Papa. I can't even go outside without wondering if they've put a hit out for one of us." Helena confessed, "I hate this. I hate not feeling safe in my own home."

Frank nodded. "Then you don't mind if I hire a few more guards to keep us all safe?"

"Guards?"

"Yes."

"What about the ones we already have?"

"I fear my men aren't enough to keep us safe anymore. I want to hire additional help. I want extra men around the grounds and one personal guard for each of us, including myself."

Helena inwardly cringed. She hated feeling like she was being supervised. "What do you mean by personal guards?"

"They would be bodyguards ready to give their lives for our safety." He explained, "I know it's a degree of privacy we would all have to sacrifice, but better a few moments to ourselves than our lives, correct?"

"I don't know..."

"It wouldn't be forever. Just until the man who killed your mother is dead."

Helena sighed, "I already feel like I'm always being watched. I don't know how much more privacy I can give up."

"It's a lot to ask, I know this. But please, Helena. It would give me so much peace of mind."

The young woman looked at her father and felt her chest tighten at the pleading expression on his face. She knew he was worried after what had happened to her mother. The entire ordeal had shaken their worlds and Franco was trying to restore order.

"...I suppose." Helen conceded, "But they better not follow me into the bathroom!"

"They won't even remain in your bedroom if you so desire." Franco smiled, happy his daughter wasn't rebelling at the suggestion.

"I think I'll keep them on the roof then." She smirked before a yawn escaped her lips. "Papa, not to be rude, but I am extremely tired. Today was long and I just want it to end."

"Fair enough, my girl." Franco complied as he stood up and kissed his daughter on the forehead. "Today has been hell, but tomorrow we will bring this hell to those who have wronged us. Sleep tight, Helena."

She waited until the sound of her father's footsteps had faded before slipping off the bed and walking towards her closet. Helena dropped to her knees and began to pull at a lose floorboard on the ground With a crack the floor gave way to a small hole under the boards. The Italian grabbed a box that was inside and pulled it out.

Inside was a black jumpsuit with purple trim, matching boots, and a solid black cape. The young woman slipped into the attire quietly before pulling out the last piece in the box: a pointed mask.

Helena looked at her mirror and didn't recognize herself. Instead of seeing a Mafia Princess, a warrior stared back at her. Feeling confident, she grabbed her rosary off her dresser and hid it under the outfit around her neck. Her mother's words came back to her as she clasped the chain closed, "When you wear this you wear not just the strength of the savior, but the strength of all the women in our family."

Helena slid a crossbow out from under her bed and picked it up with resolve. She stalked across her room, out the window, and onto the roof. From far across the estate's lawn she could see the shining lights of Gotham.

"Sorry, Papa." She muttered, "The Huntress can't wait until tomorrow."

The morning after his wife's funeral, Franco Bertinelli received a call on his cell. "Excuse me, sir. There's a man here to see you."

"A man? What does he want?"

"He said he's here for the body guard position."

"Hm. Let him in, but follow in case he's up to any funny business."

"Will do, boss."

Franco snapped his cell closed as he sat up and stared at the door, waiting for his company to come in. He didn't have to wait very long for his top guards, Tony and Cecil, to enter the room, a redheaded man in tow.

"Who the hell are you?" The Don asked as he stared at the man.

"Vic Sage, sir." The man, Vic, answered. "I'm here to apply for the bodyguard position."

A/N All reviews are appreciated and welcome.