Wonder Woman #1

Then

The cave was an eerie place, to say the least. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all lined with layers and layers of white silk, to the point where the man in the dark blue armor couldn’t see the stone under it, only have faith that it existed. Still, the man wasn’t bothered by it. He’d seen things much worse than a little silk; he’d done things worse than cover a cave wall. It was his duty, and more often, it was his pleasure.

He came to a large room in the cave, better lit than the rest of it, and in the center were three women. They were crones: ancient, wrinkled, and hunchbacked. They seemed to be closer to dust than to blood and flesh. Their dark purple robes hung loose from their bodies, as did their skin. One was bent over a spindle, pulling silk from it with bony, callused fingers. The second measured it was wooden walking staff that was taller than she was. She indicated a portion of the thread with the base of her stick, and the third one cut it with a large, rusty pair of shears. She carried it away and disappeared with it down a corridor.

“Sisters,” the crone with the staff spoke as the one with the shears returned. “War has come to our doorstep.”

“So he has,” the one with the shears said, with a wrinkled grin that revealed her yellowed teeth. “What brings the mighty Ares to our home?”

“Sisters of Fate,” Ares, the god of war, spoke with surprising respect and reverence to the crones. “I request your counsel on a most important matter. A rare opportunity has–”

“Do not waste our time, War,” said Clotho, the one at the spindle, as Atropos, the one with the shears, left the room. “We will learn what we need to without your aid.”

Atropos returned with another strand of silk, one far longer than any others. Ares nearly gasped as he saw it trailing on the floor; the thread was his life and the Sisters of Fate were some of the few people in existence who could actually end it.

Lachesis, the one with the staff, took the thread and wrapped it around her finger. She closed her eyes and rubbed her thumb over it contemplatively. A smile cracked across her face and she nodded, “Ah, I see. It has happened.” She looked at Ares with her large, green eyes that had long since faded in color. “A Themysciran has come to the world of man. A new alliance could be formed; one of peace and prosperity, and you simply can’t abide that, can you?”

Ares tensed, but simply said, “This may be the grandest war I ever fight. The humans have new weapons, living weapons, whose powers rival those of our ancient heroes. I –”

“Do NOT waste our time!” Clotho said sharply. “We know all. We see all.”

“Then tell me if I should take arms,” Ares said. “Tell me if should engage. Tell me if I should take the fight to the daughter of Hippolita.”

They said nothing as they contemplated. Lachesis continued to thumb Ares’s thread. Then, she intoned, “No one, be they man or god, may learn their own fate.”

Ares grimaced. He marched towards the trio as an axe materialized into his hand. “You will tell me what I want to know, even if I have to pull it from you with a blade.”

“Do not presume to threaten us, god of war!” the sisters intoned in eerie unison. “We are your elders, knowers of all, and seers of all. We decide the fates of those who live, and we will decide yours as well!”

Ruefully, Ares stopped. He trembled with fury, gritted his teeth, and gave the sisters his fiercest glare. Then, his hand released, and his axe disappeared.

“If you won’t help me then you are wasting MY time,” he growled and turned from them to leave, but stopped when, surprisingly, Clotho spoke up.

“This much we can tell you, god of war,” she said.

“The war against this brave new world will be won or lost by blood,” Atropos said.

“The blood of He That Is War,” Lachesis said. “Or the blood of She That Is Peace. If you enter this war, one of these will guarantee your victory, while the other will ensure your defeat. This is the word of the fates; ponder them wisely.”

Ares didn’t speak any further as he left the cave, but once he did, he allowed himself a smile. He had blood in the mortal world, and it time he found it.



Now

Colonel Steve Rockwell Trevor Jr., high-ranking agent of the mystics department of the Advanced Research Group for Uniting Superhumans, was loading the trunk of his sleek black car with old luggage. He was leaving Gateway City, his current home, for the weekend for a meeting with his superiors, or rather to escort his ‘asset’ to a meeting with his superiors.

The asset in question was Diana of Themyscira, the princess of Paradise Island, and quite possibly the most beautiful woman Steve had ever seen. The two had met a year ago by what Steve could only figure to be ‘divine intervention’, and since then she had come with him to the States to be an ambassador and emissary of Themyscira. She had settled surprisingly well in Gateway City, which Steve and his superiors at A.R.G.U.S. greatly appreciated, until Steve realized that acclimation meant having to carry all of her bags to the car.

“My god, princess,” he grunted. “What do you have in here?”

“Your mystical expert wanted to inspect all of my belongings personally,” Diana responded as she rested her elbows on the car. “Though it does beg the question: If he’s so fascinated with me, why has he taken so long to question me?”

“The doctor’s a busy man,” Steve answered as he loaded another bag. “He’s a globetrotter; travels the world, finds mystical artifacts, brings ‘em back to us. I like to imagine him as a more modern Indiana Jones.”

“Who’s that?” Diana asked.

Steve froze. He stared for a moment at Diana’s earnest, innocent expression. Then, wordlessly, resignedly, he put the box in the trunk of the car and rubbed his eyes. “Oh lord…” he muttered before sighing. “Princess, I have to apologize to you. As your liaison to the modern world, it is my job to educate you on our culture and its icons, and clearly I have failed in that mission.”

Diana chuckled. Steve’s ‘official voice’ always made her laugh.

“When we get back, we’re watching all three of those movies,” Steve said as he picked up the last box. “And if anyone tells you there’s four, then they’re a liar and a charlatan.”

Their conversation ended abruptly when a car shot past them, followed by two more. All of them were black and white and had deafening wailing sirens on top of them. Steve and Diana watched them turn a sharp corner down Kennedy Drive, heading towards downtown Gateway.

“Princess,” Steve said as he loaded the last box into the trunk. “I know it’s tempting, but we’re on a tight schedule and the police can…”

He trailed off when he saw she had disappeared. He let out a heavy sigh, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed a number. “This is Colonel Trevor; can you transfer me to Dr. Balewa?” He waited. “Doc, its Colonel Trevor. We’re going to be a bit late for the sit-down; there’s some personal business we have to take care of in Gateway before we take off…thanks for understanding. Bye.”

And with that, he shut the trunk of his care, got into the driver’s seat, and followed the path of the police cars.



There were three of them running down Colan Street, dressed in all black, each one’s face hidden by a ski mask. The one in the middle held an ornate, golden bow, while his compatriots each held white bags stuffed with cash. They ran down the street, almost falling over themselves, trying their best to put the sirens behind them out of earshot.

The trio ducked into an alley and dove behind an old dumpster, ignoring the rank smell and the discomfort of the hiding spot. They were all exhausted, panting heavily and sweating in discomfort but trying to keep their voices down as they heard the sirens pass them.

“This was a bad idea,” one of them muttered. “We shouldn’t’ve done this. This was a bad idea, Cole.”

“Shut it, Pierce!” the one with the bow shot back. “Today, we declared war, and struck a blow against the corrupt, diseased system.” He pulled his sleeve back, revealing a tattoo of a red and black spear on his arm. “The followers of Ares will be guided to victory.”

“That’s great, Cole, but how are we going to get out of here?” the last of the trio asked. “We need an escape plan!”

Cole didn't answer at first, trying to come up with an answer. Then he said, “We stand and fight, like warriors!”

“Trust me, you won’t.”

Standing in front of them was a woman, wearing star-spangled armor of red, white, blue, and silver, with knee-high boots, silver bracelets, and a silver tiara nestled in her silky black hair. A golden rope hung from her side. She stared down at them with piercing blue eyes and said, “This doesn’t have to end in violence. Give yourselves up to the police now and no one will have to be harmed.”

While his allies were too nervous to move, Cole actually cracked a grin. He stood up, held out his bow, and said, “Do you know what this is?”

Princess Diana sighed. “I’m certain you’re going to tell me.”

“This is the Epirus Bow,” Cole continued. “A weapon forged by the gods, used to defeat the titans and seal them away in Tartarus. It never runs out of ammunition, and it never misses its target.”

With surprising speed, Cole raised his weapon, and as he pulled back the string, a shaft of light appeared in it. He let the string loose and the shaft went flying, stinging the air around it and soaring in a straight path towards Diana, and with almost no effort, she raised one of her bracelets and deflected the weapon. The light dispersed harmlessly the moment it touched her silver. She raised an eyebrow at the amateur bowman.

“Care to try again?” she asked. Cole was aghast at first, but then growled and fired four more bolts. Diana blocked them all with ease and rushed forward, pulling the lariat from her side and preparing it. Cole panicked and continued to fire arrows of light at the princess, which she continued to deflect with her bracers. When she reached the criminal, Diana smacked the bow out of his hand and tripped him with one foot. He landed sorely on the ground, falling over his cohorts. Diana looked to them and asked, “You two have anything to add?”

They both shook their heads. Diana cracked a smile. “Good move.” She picked up Cole’s body by the collar of his black sweater and slid it across the alley. He stopped roughly at the brick wall on the other side of it, and Diana approached him, holding up the lasso in her hand.

“Do you know what this?” she asked and didn’t wait for his answer. “This is the Golden Lariat, forged from the Golden Girdle of Gaea by the smith god Hephaestus. Anyone caught in it is compelled – well, forced is a better word – forced into telling the truth.” She paused a moment, letting Cole feast his eyes on the shining rope that dangled from her fingers. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them honestly. The first question is: Am I going to need to use this on you?”

Cole forced the angriest face he could muster. “I am a servant of Ares,” he spat. “I will not be manipulated by some woman.”

“That’s a ‘yes’, then,” Diana said as she slipped the noose of the lasso around Cole’s body. “The next question is: Where did you get that bow?”

“The priest gave it to me. He said to run out start some havoc with it, that’s what we were doing,” Cole answered as if it was beyond his control.

Diana smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”



Steve Trevor parked his car across from the alley on Colan Street and stepped out. Already the place was a mob scene, with police, reporters, and gawkers gathered around. Steve made his way through the crowd and was stopped by police tape and a uniformed officer. The officer blocked him going any further, but before he could say anything, Steve pulled out a badge and said, “Colonel Steve Trevor, I’m with A.R.G.U.S., I’d like to take a look around.”

Taken aback, the officer nodded and lifted the tape. Steve ducked under it and entered the crime scene, but was stopped when he heard a woman behind him say, “Agent Diana Prince, I’m with A.R.G.U.S.”

She was dressed in black this time, with her hair tied back and her eyes behind a sleek pair of eyeglasses. Steve sighed when he heard her and said, “She’s with me.” The officer obliged, and let her past the barricade.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” he asked when she joined him.

“I’d say no, but I’d be lying,” Diana answered.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You need to be more careful. We’ve kept you under wraps for a reason; A.R.G.U.S. needs to figure everything out before we go public with having a superhuman in our employ, especially when she’s purportedly backed by pagan gods.”

“Please don’t use that word,” Diana said. Their conversation was ended when they were met by a man in a beige suit with brown hair. A golden badge was visible on his belt.

“Captain Mike Schorr, Gateway P.D.” he introduced himself. “Is there a reason you’re intruding on my crime scene?”

Steve flashed his badge in response. “I’m Colonel Trevor, this is Agent Prince. We’re with A.R.G.U.S. and we’d like to take a look around.”

Captain Schorr looked at them skeptically for a moment before saying, “I didn’t realize anyone had called you guys to the scene.”

“We were in the neighborhood,” Steve answered casually. “Figured we’d make sure the fine officers of the Gateway Police Department had our help. Now could we get a measure of the crime scene or are you interfering with our generous charity?”

Schorr shot him a look, but nonetheless led them to the alley, where forensics was photographing every corner of the incident. “At 3:09 PM, three men wearing ski masks entered Point One Bank on 3rd Avenue. Their apparent leader, who has been identified as Lawrence Cole, killed three guards with an as-of-yet unidentified weapon. We’re assuming it’s…otherworldly, in origin.” He struggled with the word. ‘Otherworldly’ didn’t come up much in Gateway City. “The three took approximately eight-hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash before making their escape. Responders found the three here, where they immediately surrendered to the police.”

“Where’s the weapon?” Steve asked.

“Forensics is taking a look at it, seeing if they can find anything before it goes into evidence,” Captain Schorr answered.

“We’ll take it off your hands, make sure it gets to the proper people,” Steve said. “Any idea what stopped them?”

“We haven’t questioned the suspects yet, no eyewitnesses to give us a story,” the captain said. “Your guess is as good as mine, colonel.”

“Do we know anything about them? Where they come from, where they got that weapon, why they were robbing a bank in broad daylight?”

“Nothing yet, but we’ll find out.”

“I might know something.”

It was Diana who spoke up. Steve and Captain Schorr both turned to look at her, the former with skepticism and the latter with disbelief.

“I questioned the suspects earlier,” Diana continued.

“When?” Captain Schorr asked. “You’ve been here for, what, thirty seconds?”

Diana looked nervous. In her head, she was trying to find an explanation, some lie that would ward off the suspicion of the captain, but none was coming to mind. Thankfully, Steve stepped in.

“Captain, I wouldn’t question the aid of an A.R.G.U.S. agent,” he said. “Agent Prince, please, share your findings.”

She nodded. “All three of the suspects are members of the Cult of Ares; they’re a terrorist group that we’ve been investigating. They received the weapon – the Epirus Bow, they called it – from their so-called priest, who they couldn’t identify by name. Their headquarters is in an abandoned church on Olive and 12th. That’s all I could get from them.”

Captain Scorr was suspicious, to say the least. He gave Diana a wary look, as if he were deciding whether or not to believe her. Diana nearly started sweating, but if Steve was worried at all, he didn’t show it. He simply looked expectantly at the captain, waiting for a response. Finally, Schorr said, “Alright, we’ll look into it.”

Steve extended a hand to him and said, “Captain Schorr, you’ve been a great help. A.R.G.U.S. appreciates your cooperation.”

Captain Schorr continued with his skepticism as he shook Steve’s hand. “And thank you for your help in this investigation, Colonel Trevor.” He extended his hand to Diana, who shook it as well. “Agent Prince.” And with that, Steve and Diana both turned and headed back to Steve’s car.

“So that’s why you’re a vanguard of truth,” Steve said. “You’re actually a terrible liar.”

“Let’s focus on the positives,” Diana answered. “We helped the police shut down a terrorist cell. I consider today a victory.”

“And yet you nearly broke your cover,” Steve’s tone was more serious. “Listen, Diana, I know you mean well, but when you represent A.R.G.U.S., you’ve got to act like it. Think before you speak, okay?”



Diana gave him a cross look. She spoke in a restrained tone, “I’d appreciate if you didn’t talk down to me.”

“I know, princess, I know,” he said in a resigned tone as he opened the door to his car. “Come on, we’ve got an invisible flight to catch.”

* * * * * *

The isle of Aeaea was a dark twin to Themeyscira: almost every bit as paradisaical as the home of the Amazons, but steeped in a history of trickery, manipulation, death, and dark sorcery. It was here that Ares touched down, and his plan was to go into motion.

He appeared in an ancient forum, the marble and stone falling to pieces over the ages, with grass, vines, and foliage growing thick in between it and over it. In the center was a fountain with a shimmering pool of water in it, and sitting on the edge was a shapely woman in a green dress, with violet hair and red eyes.

“My sweet Circe,” Ares said with a wicked grin. “Do you have a new toy for me?”

Her ruby lips parted in a smile of her own. “My lord Ares,” she purred. “I can say, without ego, that she is my finest creation. She came to me power hungry and bloodthirsty; she begged to be remade, and I, the merciful mistress of magic that I am, obliged her. She will be the greatest of my beastiamorphs.”

“Excellent,” Ares said, kissing her hand. “And what of the woman I asked you to take? Where is she?”

At that, Circe pouted. “Am I not enough for you, my lord, that you ask for another woman?”

Ares scowled. “Where is she, Circe?”

She pulled away from him. “The dungeon, where you asked me to keep her.” She said ruefully.

Ares said nothing as he turned from her and went down a set of stairs that lead beneath the surface. The musty stone hallway was dimly lit by torches on the wall, and as he walked, he passed a series of thick wooden doors with small windows carved into them and iron bars in the windows. As he walked, Ares changed; his skin turned from pale grey to a more human pink, his wild red hair became tied back neatly in a ponytail, and his imposing blue armor burned away, revealing a sleek black business suit. This was the guise his prisoner knew best, and it could just help him accomplish his goal.

He came to the end of the hallway and opened the door. The cell was as dank and unpleasant as the rest of the dungeon; cold, hard, unforgiving stone floors, dim light seeping in from the window near the roof, and the rank stench of those who had decayed in the room before. And sitting in the corner of the room, refuting the more comfortable pile of hay that was there for the ‘comfort’ of the inmates, was a blonde woman in her forties. Beneath her thick, round glasses were tired, bloodshot eyes. When Ares entered the cell, her attention turned to him, and she initially looked hopeful, but then her expression turned into a scowl.

“You did this,” she spat at the god of war.

He nodded to her and simply said, “Helena.”

“You had that woman kidnap me!” she shrieked. “Why? Aaron, what is this about? What sick game is this?”

‘Aaron’. The name brought about a curious feeling of nostalgia, of longing. It was something he hadn’t felt for some time; something he didn’t think he could feel anymore. He knelt down in front of her and said, “I have one question for you, Helena. Just one question, and I promise, you won’t be harmed.”

She slapped him across the face.

“Go to hell, you sick bastard,” Helena said, even as her eyes began to well with tears. She knew what he was going to ask, and she dreaded that he would.

Ares chuckled. Then, with lightning quick speed, his right hand shot forward and grabbed Helena by the jaw. She looked at him through terrified eyes as she struggled in his grip, but could barely budge. A knife, jagged and intricate, appeared in his left hand, and he held it up to her eye line, making sure she could see every deadly inch of it.

“If you answer me, I give you my word as a god that you will not be harmed,” he said in an even, controlled voice. “If you don’t answer me, I will find someone else who will. And when they are done, I will cut them to pieces and feed them to Circe’s beasts.” He paused, letting the effect sink in. “I don’t want to see you suffer, my dear, so let me ask you this question and let me hear you answer it truthfully.” He gave her his most solemn gaze as he stared at her eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes.

“Helena,” he said. “Where is Cassandra Sandsmark? Where is our daughter?”