[photo set: In the first image, Sal gestures to a wall of weapons, a young Helena standing beside him. In the next, her expression goes from wide-eyed shock to grim determination as he speaks to her. “Do you live your life afraid…running and hiding for the rest of your days…hunted because of the accident of your birth. Or do you answer the call of your blood. You can protect yourself, instead of remaining at the mercy of others. You can take revenge for your family. What will you be, hunter or hunted?” In the last, she’s holding a crossbow about as big as she is. “Teach me.”]
I have nothing against Helena Wayne. But this is my Huntress.
A traumatised, terrified little girl who took her destiny in a death grip and didn’t let go.
A young woman who saw her family for what it really was and vowed to take it apart, so no more children would hold their mothers as they bled.
A vigilante who fought with brutal determination, and a teacher who cared desperately for her kids.
A hero who craved acceptance and allies but didn’t need them to do her job.
A friend who finally found a home.
Independent and ruthless and passionate and callous and resilient and bitter and selfless and reckless and so much in between as she struggles to find a balance, to come to terms with the tragedy that formed her identity, to reconcile her ferocity with her faith, to learn how to let people into her heart.
She’s not perfect and she makes bad choices and she hurts the people she cares about, but she tries so hard and she’s done so much. She fought for the kids who fell between the cracks. She gave Gotham a Bat when most of her heroes left her. She gave Barbara another chance and Renee another partner.
She’s a Bat and a Bird but most of all, she is who she decides to be, and to hell with anyone who tells her otherwise.
So yes, I’m sad to hear that the Huntress we have now isn’t Helena Bertinelli, even if I’m not reading DC right now. Because she deserves to have her stories told.