“Oh, I think there’s at least one just as paranoid, if not moreso,” Barbara replied cryptically, wondering at her own transition, the trouble she went to in hopes of keeping her children out of this mess. Her family.
They’d all struggled in their ways. Barbara’s initial go-to move of decades before was to hole up in her tower. Watch over the world without trusting it to look after itself.
“The problem is, in part, that the Sicilians weren’t ready to have a Bertinelli show up again to run the show. They never forgave her for shutting them down,” Barbara intimated. Years before, Helena had gone in and taken over. Batman hadn’t supported the approach they used but it was Helena’s, and after all that had transpired, not backing her play was simply not an option.
The commissioner had personally destroyed all records relating to her Birds, with the exception of those whose identities weren’t a secret. Everything else was scrubbed from the official databases.
“There might be some backups somewhere. If I know why you’re looking for her, I might be able to get access…”
That was good news at least, that there might be something anywhere for her to find out. Her next step would have been to try and find the birds or someone else her mother had worked with, but old identities weren’t easy to find once they retired.
“The Sicillians hold a grudge that’s for sure...”, she knew her family did. They hated her mother and some of the older members still hated her too. Apparently she looked just a little bit too much like Helena, and from the stories she had heard maybe acted a bit too much like her too.
“...I can trust you can I?” she wasn’t totally sure, there was still the ingrained thought that her family had taught her. Don’t trust cops, ever. But she needed to know, even if it just turned out Helena was dead.
“I’m Valentina Bertinelli. Helena is my mother”
