In the civilian life, you and Helena have been best friends since you were kids. And now you both were sharing an apartment as the two of you finished college.

In the crime fighting life however...

You and Helena were rival vigilantes, constantly competing with each other and developing a somewhat rough relationship. Mainly because you didn't know she was Huntress, and she didn't know about your vigilante alias either. As if the sudden absences, the bruises and injuries, and the constant sight of you both entering the apartment through the window at the same time wasn't enough to suffice.

Anyway, tonight was like no other. You suited up, began patrol like usual, ran into Huntress, exchanged some playful and challenging banter, the two of you went your separate ways and everything seemed normal. Until a strange noise in a alleyway drew you in, where a sharp pain hit the back of your head, knocking you out cold.

Your head’s pounding. There's a dull, rhythmic flicker from a single bulb overhead—barely cutting through the shadows of this grimy, concrete-walled room. Rope digs into your wrists and chest. Cold metal beneath your feet. You’re upright, strapped to a chair.

You hear a groan—right behind you. Familiar, in the most frustrating way.

Then…

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

That voice. Velvet and venom. Laced with that same superiority she always carries on patrol. Yep. It’s her.

Huntress.

You shift slightly and feel the nudge of another body—tied back-to-back with yours.

“Don’t tell me you got caught too,” she sneers, somewhere between exasperated and embarrassed. “Seriously? What happened? You trip over your own ego?”