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

Thank you all for the reviews. Hope you enjoy:)

She had expected tattoos. She had expected scars covering skin like black on a white canvas. She had expected wear and tare, rough and tough, and down and dirty, but she had not expected a thin redhead staring at her like she was a book to be read.

Helena took in his lanky form and inwardly sighed. This was what her father had given her for protection? "He doesn't look like he'd be much use in a fight."

"At the very least he can play bullet monkey. Never hurts to have a spare body to throw at an a attacker." Her father shrugged.

She inwardly conceded with him. In a worst case scenario she would be able to use this guy as a distraction while she went on the offense at her attacker. It wasn't ideal, but then again what would be better? At least this guy seemed passive enough to stay out of her way.

"I suppose. So, Mr. Sage, have you ever guarded anyone before?"

"Not until now." He confessed.

Great. Helena thought to herself. Papa sure knows how to pick them. "Well, let's hope this first job isn't your last."

"Ah, my daughter the optimist." Franco remarked, "Helena, why don't you give him a tour of the estate."

"Not like I have anything better to do." Helen shrugged, "Just give me a minute to go change."

She turned on her heels and walked out of the room, only to notice the man had done the same. The brunette raised an eyebrow in question only for Vic to reply, "I am supposed to keep an eye out for you."

"Yeah, well, prepare for an eye load of my door because that's all you're gonna see." Helen scowled. Perfect, a dedicated working man was just what she needed.

She bit back a rant that she felt coming up in her chest and clenched her fist. This wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to sacrifice her privacy just because Papa was paranoid. He knew she could handle herself, damn it.

Recently her father seemed to only be viewing her as an asset to be protected. Yet he had raised her as a warrior, someone who could take care of herself. It created a contradiction that was causing her head to hurt.

As they walked up the stairs Helena wished not for the first time that this was all a nightmare she would wake up from. To see her mother's smiling face once more instead of the image of her cold body laying in a coffin. Oh, how she would have killed to go back in time and prevent this all from happening.

Unfortunately she didn't have the power to do that. As far as she knew not even Superman was capable of such a feat. But what she did have was a history of combat and a knack for kicking ass. What she lacked in super strength she made up for in a cunning mind. She wasn't super by far, but she wasn't just another average woman. No, she was capable of being more than that.

Just because she couldn't crush walls didn't mean she couldn't crush skulls. Hell if Batman could do it so could she.

This revelation of her capabilities had kept her up for nights on end. I am not as helpless as they think I am. I have the power to change things. It was empowering. She had the potential to take things into her own hands and do to them what she saw fit.

This led to the blossoming of an idea. It approached her with initial hesitation, but after a small dwelling completely encompassed her. Helena had the ability to get back at the scumbag who had caused her life to be so chaotic. She could hunt him down and make him pay for all the shit she found herself dealing with on a daily basis.

Just the thought of her goal made her lips twitch into a grin. Mr. Sage apparently took notice of this. "Something I do amuse you, Ms. Bertinelli?"

"No, but I'm sure if you give it a minute you're bound to screw up bad enough to get a laugh out of me."

He narrowed his brow and frowned. Helen felt slightly conflicted. On one hand it wasn't his fault that her father had hired him. On the other hand, he was dumb enough to take the job. She wasn't happy that she was being babysat so why should she pretend to be? It wasn't like this guy's opinion actually mattered.

As she reached to open the door, he caught her arm in his hand. "Look, Ms. Bertinelli, regardless of how happy you are that I'm guarding you, your father did hire me to do this."

She snatched her arms away and looked up at him angrily. "Look, I know guys like you. You're compliant little puppets. If my father said to run in a circle and slap your own ass I'm completely confident that you'd have no problem doing it. I respect him enough to understand he has reasons for what he does and to go along with it. But I have no reason whatsoever to give you a minute of my time. All you have to do is keep quiet and stay out of my way. Okay?"

Helena stepped into her room and shut the door, only for him to block it with his foot. "No, not okay. I was hired to do a job and I'm damn sure going to do it. If you want to act like a spoiled child then I'm going to treat you as one."

Her eyes popped open in fury. That stronzo! "I'm sorry, who the hell do you think you are?"

"Your bodyguard. If you have a problem with it, take it up with your father."

Without thinking she pushed him back giving herself enough time to close and lock the door into her room. Finally alone, Helena sunk to the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees. She took a deep breath and let it out, looking around her room. Her eyes fell onto a collage hanging on her wall across from her bed decorated with pictures.

She stood up and walked towards it, silently reaching out to feel it under her fingertips. Her eyes traveled over dozens of pictures captured on paper of better times. Pictures of her and her mother laughing at birthdays. Pictures of her friends back when she was allowed to have friends. Pictures of a time when she dared to dream that life wouldn't leave her disappointed and hungering for something more.

Helena sighed and dropped her hand from the board. At nineteen most people her age were out partying in college or making their mark on the world. Yet here she sat in the wake of her mother's death, her father now a painful combination of distant yet overbearing. Though Helena had always been a loner, until now she had never actually felt lonely.

She missed her mother terribly. She missed the closeness she had shared with her father. She missed being able to go out on the town with her status as a Mafia princess protecting her, not being a death sentence.

But all of that was over now. There was no use in hanging onto the past. Instead, all she could do was focus on her future, a future she would build for herself. One filled with crossbows and purpose and adventure and independence. A future as a Huntress.

Vic glared at the closed door in front of him. This was not a good way to begin his new job. The last thing he needed was to get on the bad side of the Don's daughter and risk his safety. What the hell was her problem? He hadn't been here for 10 minutes and she was already prepared to kill him with her bare hands.

A background in investigation wasn't needed to be able to tell that Helena was quite capable of handling herself. Vic was fairly certain that Franco hadn't been exaggerating when he referred to him as a glorified bullet monkey. At the rate things were going he would be surprised if he left this job in one piece.

He was by no definition a people person. However, he was a professional first and foremost and like any good professional he knew that sometimes you had to adapt to a situation. With that thought in mind, the redhead brought his fist to the door and knocked twice.

Knock knock. "Ms. Bertinelli?"

"I'm not interested in talking."

"Perhaps you'd care to listen?"

"Hmm." He could imagine her glaring at him from behind the door. "Don't think so."

Vic bit back a nasty retort. Christ, she was a brat. "Please, open the door."

To his surprise it swung back to reveal a scowling Helena Bertinelli. Her arms were crossed across her chest with her face set in a deep scowl as she glared at him. "What the hell do you want?"

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

"No, you're sorry you weren't able to weasel your way to my good side. Look, I've been around guys like you my entire life, okay? All you care about is moving up the ranks by getting on my father's good side. You can't just use me as a tool to help you get to the top. I'm not dumb enough to fall for it and I'm definitely not looking to 'do you a favor'. So leave me the hell alone."

And when the door slammed shut yet again, Vic didn't try to open it.

"So, how's Casa de Bertinelli been?"

Helena looked up at her laptop screen to see her old friend Dinah Lance smirking. "About as fun as watching grass grow. Seriously, I'm basically in lock down mode right now."

Dinah was the adopted daughter of a business man from Connecticut who was more concerned about public image than actually raising a child. After the positive press died down, he shipped the young girl off to a prestigious finishing school in Gotham. There the two girls had met, though it wasn't all roses at first. The two were incredibly competitive and initially first loathed each other.

But after a few months of tension, Helena realized that Dinah wasn't all bad. In fact, they had a lot in common. Soon the two girls began to become friends, and Helena had never regretted the decision. Now all these years later they still remained close despite Dinah attending college across the country.

"Well, I mean, can you blame your dad? Your mom was murdered for Christ's sake."

The sudden tension in the conversation was tangible even over the computer. Helena looked away feeling her heart sink. "Trust me, I don't need to be reminded."

Dinah covered her mouth with her hands in horror. "Shit, I'm sorry. That was completely out of line."

"It's not like you're wrong though." Helen admitted. "I know he has my interest at heart, I just feel like he's going about it all wrong. He hired a bodyguard, a legit bodyguard. Did he just forget that I've been trained in combat since I was like three."

"How could he forget when you never shut up about it." Dinah groaned. "I get it, you're a bad mama-jama."

"The badest of the bad." Helena winked. "Speaking of bad, how did you do on your interview for Queen Industries?"

"Not too terrible I think, but I got the impression the interviewer was more interested in my legs than my resume." With her flowing blonde hair, soft curves, and baby blue eyes Dinah was a certified knockout. She often resented people who focused on her appearance instead of her as a person. "You know what that ass said? He said it was 'nice to see a woman who cares about her appearance in the corporate role'. It's 2014 and men still can't give compliments."

"That's the problem with being attractive. Our heels are hot enough to seduce a man, but -not that they know this- sharp enough to stab one."

"I'd drink to that, but I have a final in the morning." Dinah muttered. "Environmental science is too hard. Maybe I'll just open up a flower shop or something, I mean it is still related to the field."

"Yeah, just like being a psychiatrist is related to being in an asylum." Helena snorted. She glanced at the clock on her computer. "Hey, I gotta go. Good luck on your exam tomorrow okay?"

"Okay. Good luck with your new handler."

Helena flipped her off as she exited from the call. It was 11 pm already? Shit, she was going to be late. The brunette vaulted off her bed, darted across the floor, grabbed a sack from under her floorboard, and began to toy with the window.

Sorry, Papa, I gotta go.

Vic had remained in his spot in front of her door since it had closed the second time. Whether she liked it or not he had a job to do and he'd be damned if her attitude cost him his cover, or more importantly his life.

She was a spoiled, overgrown child who had no idea what life was really like. Never mind her wit, her beauty, or her self-assured persona, she was a damn brat. Or was that just another facade?

She had grown up in a castle of blood surrounded by violence and lies. Had she simply just adapted to blend in? Was she as hateful as he was being led to believe, or was she just resentful that even now her decisions seemed to be made for her? Had she been close to her mother? Was she close to anyone?

Vic slowly let his initial impression of her fall and welcomed the flood of questions swarming into his head. His temper had clouded his thoughts and he could not let that happen. First impressions were jokes, after all. You couldn't know someone until you asked the right questions.

Helena could very well indeed be the key to his missions success. She was, after all, fully immersed in the life of the Mafia. No one would question his investigation of her seeing as he was her guard. As the plan began to formulate in his mind, Vic realized that Helen's misfortune of having him be her guard was his key to success.

If he could find out about Ms. Bertinelli he would find out all sorts of things. The young woman could be his and Gordon's ticket to the dismantling of the Mob. But how to go about getting all of this information? Surely Helena wouldn't open up to him. She had already marked him as an enemy in her mind. He had no choice but to investigate to find information.

Not that Vic Sage had ever, in his entire life, been disappointed at the prospect of investigation.

He stood up quietly and began to wander down the hallway, out the door, and onto the property. Walking until he found her window, he reached into his pocket and slipped a motion detector onto the window pane. If anyone opened it he would be immediately notified. While discreetly putting it in place he looked into the room and saw the woman he was sworn to protect laughing at her computer, a gorgeous blonde woman's face smiling back.

So it appeared she wasn't completely isolated. An old friend, perhaps? Maybe a lover? His list of questions continued to grow and he found himself pained for answers. Who was Helena Bertinelli and how much did she know about her father's work?

Vic continued on around the property, his hands deep in his pockets. He longed for his trench coat but had settled for a black t-shirt and jeans to help look the part. He made mental notes of all the possible ways one could enter the house. Then again he was going off of visible protection, he would have to figure out the less obvious tricks over time.

The beeper went off in his hands and Vic looked at it in surprise. He mentally cursed himself as he sprinted towards her room. If someone was breaking in and he failed to protect Ms. Bertinelli in any way the Don would kill him for sure.

He arrived in time to see a cloaked figure with a cape dart across the lawn into the trees away from the direction of her window. Oh no oh no oh no...

Vic lifted himself into the room and turned on the light. "Ms. Bertinelli...?" Shit. Completely empty.

No signs of a struggle, no forced entry. The plot thickens, he thought to himself. Realizing there was no way in hell she was still there, Vic leaped out of the window and took off in the direction of the hooded figure.

Damn it, Helena. You just had to lock me out of your room like a child throwing a tantrum.

Navigating through the trees until she came across a familiar looking shed, Helena didn't hesitate to unlock the door and step inside to wear her motorcycle was stored. She walked it out of the old building before hopping on it and taking off into the night, her cape flapping behind her as she pulled at the accelerator.

She was out and she was free with no one in sight. Confident she had left undetected, she rode towards the city lights with purpose.

Little did she know that a redheaded man with an agenda of his own was closing in on her location with every mile she rode.

A/N Reviews are highly appreciated.