⌞ ⟨ continued from here ⟩ ❮❮ ⌝ @clawsextended. ╰──╮
in the back of her mind, helena maria wayne can hear him again; the voice of her father, ever so paranoid, ever so observant, reminding robin to never let her guard down anybody, even if they seem harmless.
how paranoid of him; how imprudent for her, especially in this moment when she finds herself dragged off the path, so fast she doesn’t register the action until the woman is interrogating her with the charm and originality of an 80s mafia boss, and it happens so fast that the bruise on her ego stings more than the nails on her arm.
“lady,” her voice is cold and firm, refusing to slide into panic mode or match the other’s temperament. “remove your hand before i do it for you. three seconds, or less.” the coldness does little to hide helena’s own boiling anger, the way she clenches her own fist hard enough to draw the first blood – hers. “i can scream louder so don’t you try me. this doesn’t have to become a ‘thing’ –”
“and it won’t, my time is not an unlimited resource,” and neither is her patience, apparently, considering this is all it takes for helena to immediately resort to — CRACK — dislocating her shoulder to weasel out of the tight grip, then a boot to the other’s ankle serves as the headstart helena needs to vault out of there, just a couple of leaps to ensure a safe distance between her and her second surprise ambusher as helena lands right near the wall and closer to the pipeline, but she holds onto the remainder of her civilian passability as she snaps her shoulder back, the second crack just as sharp as the glare she gives the woman. “and this is no way to talk to strangers. go wrangle a stray if you really want your kicks, because i am not that for you to treat like.”
and of course, certain footsteps draw nearer, and the adrenaline is making it harder for helena to examine those with completely clarity, to find it safe to run off again when there aren’t plenty shadows to blend into; instead, she decides to play both ways and collect something from her bag, in case the lady decides to go for the face this time and leave a second scar.
“you don’t know me,” she asserts, staring down instead of avoiding it. “let alone my achilles’ heel, or if i have one,” even when they’re face to face and several feet away, helena still can’t comprehend what could’ve ticked the other woman off to this degree, it’s not even the kind of ambush she’d come to expect from undercover superheroes. this feels… more personal, but why would that be? “everything you presume beyond that is your personal issue, not my case to resolve.”
helena may be cornered in a physical sense, but there has never been a single situation she’s been trapped in, and it never will happen. not today; lehamshikh lehilakhem.