The industrial district of Gotham had grown over the years. Rather than sprawling any further into the city it has instead eaten up the dingy divisions once used to house it's own workers. For politicians the expansion meant cleaning up bad neighborhoods, for businesses it meant more money coming into Gotham. For Pamela Isley, it meant staring at the new waste pool of Ace Chemicals that had taken the place of the row of run-down townhouses that had once been her home. She wasn't sure what she'd expected to find, but at least the fumes weren't making her ill. She kicked a loose piece of gravel into the open vat and watched it bubble as it sank.
There was nothing here for her. But still she hovered for a few moments longer. A part of her had maybe hoped that something had survived. The magnolia tree her mother had nurtured inside for years before transplanting to their small yard, or the rose and peony bushes they trimmed each year together. Pamela reached out with her arm over the pool trying to sense something, anything, that might have remained of her past deep below the earth. But there was nothing, no stirrings of life. For a sense she had possessed for such a short time, it was strange how uncomfortable its absence made her. Just as she was about to turn away, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
S.O.S. -H
The location sent to her was the other side of town. With an exasperated sigh, Pamela got into her car, the toxic waste that had taken the place of her childhood home quickly forgotten.
Helena was already in full swing - quite literally - by the time Pamela arrived. Several men had her nearly surrounded, when Pamela cracked opened the door to the Bertinelli estate cellar. It smelled of dust, wine, and aged wood.
"Took you long enough." Helena grunted, confusing the attackers close enough to hear her as she floored the man attempting to grapple her with a swift kick. At least she wasn't wearing that stupid pointy mask. Pamela hesitated before entering the room completely. What exactly did she expect her to do? As Helena ducked, countered, and leveled the thugs, Pamela took a moment to better survey the scene.
Helena was preparing herself for the next wave of thugs to pour into the dimly-lit wine cellar. Broken glass and shallow pools of wine were scattered across the floor surrounding a large hole in the wall that appeared to have been opened by explosives. Pamela realized that it wasn't just wine flowing between the cobblestone, but also blood - hopefully not Helena's. In fact, judging from the number of bodies strewn about, it seemed that Helena was in fine form.
"Did you come to help or - " A single shot interrupted Helena mid-sentence, and with a string of curses she launched herself at the attacker, grabbing the weapon and cartwheeling in one fluid motion to twist it out of his grasp, while breaking his wrist in the process
" - or for a free show?" Still winded but stealing a smug glance at Pamela before the next attacker met his fate. She had them nearly pushed back to the hole they'd been streaming in from.
With a sigh and sense of dread, Pamela pushed open the door and entered. It didn't take much time for the one of the attackers to set upon her. She managed to duck the first clumsy swing but the second quickly knocked her to the ground. What the fuck had Helena been thinking, she wasn't a natural-born fighter; she wasn't even trained. She did her best to keep moving - she rolled to the left, just trying not to get hit. A nearly silent whistle passed through the air, and the man standing over her fell flat to the floor. A quick look showed Helena glaring, with her wrist-mounted crossbow aimed in Pamela's direction.
Pamela stood and brushed herself off, refusing to offer an excuse as the few remaining assailants started to retreat.
"We need to stop them." Helena directed without explanation. Pamela rolled her eyes, but followed through the destroyed wall.
The tunnel they had been ambushed from looked to be ancient; definitely not made for just this single attack. Pamela couldn't guess at what it was doing there, but could tell from the tell-tale smell ahead that they were headed straight into the Gotham sewers. Isley's Saturday had gone from standing safely over refuse to wading in it.
"I can barely see shit." Helena cursed, still managing to land an elbow in a mans back as he tried to run.
Pamela only hummed in response, and reached out with her senses. There was maybe
something she could do.
"Have that mask I gave you?" Without a word Helena pulled a black specialized air-filtering mask over her face.
There really was no stopping nature. Life could be found just about anywhere that wasn't glowing with toxic waste. Gotham's lax sanitation regulations with its sewers helped of course. Pamela closed her eyes and tried to tune out the echoing wet footsteps in the tunnel. Mold. Not much, but she could work with it. Within seconds it was doubled in area, and then the spores became airborne. Black mold, judging by the near instantaneous coughing and wheezing it caused. The rush of panic to escape was immediately slowed as the goons began to succumb to the mold's toxic effects. Helena didn't even have to lift a finger to bring them to the ground.
"Thanks," Helena said, barely even winded despite the mask.
Pamela shrugged
"What the hell happened here?""One of the fucking families." There was a brief pause before Helena broke into a long string of curses and gave an impressive kick to the still body at her feet.
We may have killed these men. The thought was surprising to Pamela, but somehow that possibility wasn't horrifying. After all, she knew what she was signing herself up for when she allied herself with the mob.
"I don't understand. Haven't you spent the past month building a case against them specifically to prevent this?""I was hoping they weren't stupid enough to force my hand." Helena was rubbing the bare patch of skin not covered by the mask.
"I reveal one of them, the others will - " She stopped, realizing that Pamela was neither particularly interested or listening.
"Who cares? When are you going to help me with Legrand?""Who?" Helena was picking over the bodies, but looked up to meet Pamela's icy stare.
"Right, look. We can deal your ex next week. Just let me find a way to handle Inzerillo first."Without Pamela's urging, the mold had stopped growing, and slowly settled onto the damp floor and walls of the tunnel. It was hardly safe to breathe, but wasn't enough to immediately kill it's victims. One of the bodies began to stir, grabbing the attention of both women.
It was a young man, attempting to crawl away. Miraculously avoiding the worst of Helena's attacks, he'd been brought down by the mold. Helena was on him in a heartbeat, stomping on his back and flattening him into the damp mud of the passage.
"Are we done here then?" Pamela asked, not protesting, but also not exactly wanting to witness a murder.
"Just a minute. Help me get this one out of here." With a bit of maneuvering, together they managed to drag the body into the safety of the Bertinelli cellar. Safely away from the mold, Helena peeled off her mask, sweaty hair sticking to her face. She didn't allow any time for recovery, pressing her boot on the man's chest even as he began choking and coughing on the clean air.
"Who do you belong to?"Pamela backed herself away from the interrogation as the man began to wildly look around the room, desperately coming to terms with the company and situation he was in. When his pleading eyes landed on her, she only shook her head slowly. Not her problem.
"I work for myself."
Helena's laugh was a short and hard bark, hardly sincere, and quickly interrupted with a scream as she moved her foot to the man's hand where she pressed her heel. It wasn't much after the violence she'd witnessed moments before, but still Pamela found herself oddly unperturbed by the scene.
"Try again.""Wait wait wait! You can't kill me!"
"Oh? I didn't have much trouble with your friends back there.""No , I - " He licked his lips and looked to Pamela again, she gave him no reaction. "My name is Gianni Inzerillo - " His sentence gave way to screams as bones crunched in is hand under Helena's heel.
"Bullshit - I know every Inzerillo in this city by face and name. Try again."His next words were garbled between blubbering sobs and panicked gasps. "I'm his bastard son - doesn't want anyone to know - please, I'm telling the truth!"
Apparently the words held enough merit for Helena, and she lifted the pressure to allow Gianni to cradle his mangled hand as he shrunk into a ball on the wine and blood-stained floor.
"Helena?" Pamela asked after a moment of near silence - save for the quiet moaning of Gianni.
"What are we doing with him?"Helena turned, an unsettling smile on her face.
"I'm going to use him to deal with Inzerillo. Thanks Pam, I'll talk to you in a week."Eager to leave, Pamela wasted no time with questions.
"Make sure to have the tunnel cleaned and sealed, unless you want that mold to spread further." Was her only farewell, and with the briefest glance back at the unfortunate young Inzerillo's pleading eyes, she left the way she came.
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