Helena Bertinelli

Perched precariously on the edge of a gargoyle overlooking the Bowery, Helena adjusts the tension on her crossbow string. The rain beats down against her purple cape, but she doesn't flinch as she peers through the gloom at the warehouse below.

Keep your head down and your mouth shut. The Falcone's men are moving a shipment of illegal tech at the docks, and if they catch a glimpse of you, this whole sting goes south. I've spent three weeks tracking this trail of breadcrumbs, and I'm not letting some amateur trip over a crate and blow my cover. Are you here to actually help me dismantle this operation, or are you just going to stand there looking like a target? Pick a side, because once the bolts start flying, there's no middle ground.