Wonder Woman #2

Ares emerged into the sunlight above Aeaea, the sordid lost paradise island. He let out a tense breath; his interrogation of his former lover was an unpleasant experience, but he had gotten through it and now he could move on to the next step his plan.

“Did the girl satisfy you, my lord?” Circe, the immortal sorceress, approached him, placing one arm around him and another on the chest of his business jacket. “Where’s your armor? What brings on this foreign attire?”

“Can you release the new creature?” he asked coldly. “Immediately?”

Circe pulled back, relaxing her embrace. “Yes, my lord. I can unleash her wherever you wish.”

“Do it, today.” Ares stepped away from the sorceress. “Send her after the princess. I have something to take care of.”

“And what of our captive?” Circe asked. “Shall I question her? See what more she can tell us? Or just let my lovely pets play with her?”

“YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER!” Ares roared. Circe was terrified by it; the wrath of a god, especially a god of war, was something to be respected and feared. “You will treat her as an honored guest on this island,” he spoke in a more controlled voice, but anger was still boiling near the surface. “You will move her to a room in the palace. You will feed her. You will keep her here. But neither you, nor your pets, will harm her in any way, or by Olympus I will turn this entire island to cinders with you on it.”

Circe simply nodded. And with that, Ares turned and vanished from Aeaea, ready to meet another of his children.



In an airfield in Washington D.C., Colonel Steve Trevor and Diana of Themyscira appeared seemingly from nowhere.

Greeting the pair at the otherwise empty airfield were two other members of the Advanced Research Group for Uniting Superhumans. The first was General Philip Darnell, the head of A.R.G.U.S. military research and Steve Trevor’s immediate superior. The second was the man Steve and Diana had arrived to meet. Dr. Nommo Balewa, a ‘mystical historian’ and advisor to A.R.G.U.S., was an imposing man, tall and wide, but with a soft-spoken demeanor. He raised an eyebrow at their appearance and said, “I should ask about that.”

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” Steve said. “And it does this.”

He snapped his fingers, and from nowhere appeared a jet, translucent and shining in the midday sun. It looked to be made of blue-tinted glass. Dr. Balewa’s eyes widened when he saw it. “What wonder is this?”

“Morphing crystal,” Diana answered. “The truth is she may not be mystical; Themysciran history says she fell from the sky and was accepted by the Amazons. She’s been living with us ever since.” She approached the doctor and extended a hand. “I’m Diana, of Themyscira.”

To her surprise, Dr. Balewa bowed deeply to her. “I am honored, princess. I am Dr. Nommo Balewa of Kor, and I am at your service.”

Diana blushed, something Steve had never seen her do. She turned to him and said, “Now why can’t you be this respectful?”

“We’re here thirty seconds and you’re already making me look bad, Doc,” Steve laughed. He approached General Darnell and shook his hand, “Good to see you again, sir.”

“Welcome back to Washington, Colonel Trevor,” he said. “Dr. Balewa, Princess Diana, do we want to take this conversation inside?”

They did, and two hours later the four were in Dr. Balewa’s office, with the colonel and the general having just heard the story of Steve Trevor’s arrival at Themyscira. They were both well versed in the story. When Steve had returned to the States, a lengthy interrogation process had led to him telling the story to different agents more times than he’d like to count. This was apparently standard protocol for someone who had returned after being declared missing in action for thirteen days. General Darnell was the last one to hear the story before Steve was finally released from containment and was one of the few who actually believed him upon hearing it.

When the story was finally over, Dr. Balewa put down his pencil and paper and said, “That’s quite a tale, princess.”

“I believe it happened once before, too,” Diana responded. “By none other than Colonel Trevor’s father, if that can be believed.”

Dr. Balewa chuckled. “Yes, the fates have a sense of humor like that, although I can’t help but wonder if there’s something bigger going on.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“Well,” the doctor said as he leafed through a stack of papers. “In your report, you said that as you were crashing, a bolt of lightning caught your eye and led it to Themyscira, which is where you landed, correct?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded.

“Well on the same night you went missing, precisely a year earlier there was a sudden lightning storm in Central City, the exactly explanation of which has never been fully elaborated.” Dr. Balewa turned a page in his stack. “There was also a bolt of lightning over Smallville, Kansas on the same day twenty-seven years ago, the same night there was a rather destructive meteor shower. It’s quite a lot of coincidence, don’t you think?”

Steve actually seemed worried by this. General Darnell cut in and said, “Maybe it’s just that: a lot of coincidence and nothing else.”

“Perhaps,” Dr. Balewa shrugged as he put the papers back in order. “Just something that struck me as odd.” He stood up and said, “Do we think it’s time for a break?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Steve acted nonchalant, but secretly he was grateful for the chance to be out of the room for five minutes. However, no sooner had he, Diana, Dr. Balewa and General Darnell left the room that an alarm suddenly blared overhead, and a red light began to flash. The controlled voice of a young man shouted over the intercom.

“Code thirty! We have a code thirty! Hostile forces have breached the front gates and are invading headquarters! All soldiers to your stations; everyone else, we are on lockdown! Repeat: We are on lockdown!”

Steve turned to look at his people, but realized he was short one. Diana was gone, having already sprinted down the halls, making her way towards the entrance of the base. Steve pulled the Beretta M9 from the holster at his side, while General Darnell said, “Colonel, doctor, get after the princess.”

“I doubt she needs our help, General,” Dr. Balewa answered.

“That doesn’t matter, if she goes to the front lines, then so do you. Now move!” he barked. Steve nodded and he and Dr. Balewa were off after Diana.

“You know anything about combat?” Steve asked as they turned a corner.

“I’m an archaeologist,” Dr. Mist smirked. “Of course I do!”



In her old life, before she found the island, she was Barbara Ann Minerva. She once counted herself among the richest families in Nottinghamshire, living a life of lavish wealth and luxury. It was a bit boring, she might have said; having anything she could ask for didn’t make for many challenges, and being the third of four children, she was never quite in the spotlight. Still, it was a good and simple enough life, before it all vanished.

Henry Jacob Minerva taught his daughter many things; the value of the family, the ins and outs of his weapons manufacturing business, the finer points of armed combat, but he also taught her how fleeting money was. Henry Jacob had stolen millions from investors over the years, and when he was caught, the Minerva family lost nearly everything. Barbara’s siblings never quite grasped the importance of family the same way she did, and thus scattered as soon as the fortune was gone, leaving Barbara with nobody but herself to rely on.

From then on, Barbara was determined to be the one earn her own fortune, not through gambling or scheming like her siblings, but through her own intelligence and ingenuity. Her great-grandfather had built the family’s wealth through the study of archaeology and the finding of lost relics. Barbara was determined to do Rutherford Minerva one better, and accomplish a goal that he had driven himself mad trying to do: Find the mythical island of Aeaea. After years of searching, of pouring over her great-grandfather’s notes, of spending nearly every dollar that she had left, Barbara Ann Minerva not only found the island, but found the ancient witch Circe still living on it.

That was when Barbara found the truth: her quest, her drive to retrieve her fortune, was meaningless. The wealth she was working so hard to achieve could be taken away from her far easier than it would come, but what Circe had –sorcery, immortality, power – was what she truly wanted. And Circe, in her ‘generosity’ granted Barbara her wish.

She shed her human skin and become the most ferocious of the mythical bestiamorphs. Gone was Barbara Ann Minerva; now there was the Cheetah. And she would make the world fear her, and show them all her power.

Now, the Cheetah led the forces of Ares against America’s well-intentioned but woefully underprepared paranormal military branch, A.R.G.U.S. She stormed the headquarters, flanked by her fellow bestiamorphs and the God of War’s centurions: stone warriors, brought to life by blood and motivated by obedience. The Cheetah herself was in the fray and thoroughly enjoying herself; Ares had given her a sharp, thin rapier, and, with Henry Jacob’s fencing lessons in the back of her mind, she was putting it to good use.

Barbara loved the power of the Cheetah; the strength of her cuts, her senses being able to take in everything around her, but it was the speed and grace that she loved the most. As she rushed the hallways, the world seemed to slow down for her, and she effortlessly cut down five A.R.G.U.S. soldiers before the first even hit the ground. Truly, this was what real power felt like.

She turned a corner and saw a woman, tall, broad-shouldered, clad in star-spangled armor and standing over the bodies of three rhino men. She turned and faced the Cheetah. She braced herself for a fight and said, “I suppose there’s no talking to you either?”

The Cheetah smirked. “Not quite, but I hardly know what we would talk about.”

Diana of Themyscira raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I didn’t know any of you could talk.” Her expression changed to one of grim determination. “Whatever you’re doing, end it now. This is enough bloodshed for one day-”

“Clearly not, if you’re still standing,” the Cheetah cut her off. Diana looked surprised at her, and the Cheetah continued her taunt. “Oh yes. This is all for you, my dear; all to kill the lovely princess.”

“Fine,” she growled. “If you wanted to kill me, that’s fine, because you won’t. But then why would you kill all these men?”

“Call it a trial-by-fire,” the Cheetah said. “These beautiful beasts have a big future ahead; we have to prepare them.”

“Who’s ‘We?’”

She was caught off-guard by the question, but did her best to hide it. “You needn’t concern yourself. You’re about to have much more pressing matters to tend to.” She raised her sword and asked, “Shall we?”

Before she got a response, the Cheetah raced forward and chopped with her rapier. Diana raised an arm to block it, and as the sword made contact with her metal manacle, it cracked in two. The blade’s long edge flew off and away, and Cheetah stared shocked at the handle for a moment. Then, playing it off as nothing, she tossed it aside and gave Diana a clever smile.

“Looks like we’ll have to do this like animals,” Barbara purred as she bared her claws.

“I’ve fought animals. I broke the minotaur of Crete when I was fifteen,” Diana answered. “I can snap you like a twig.”

The Cheetah growled and charged forward, slashing madly at Diana. She blocked the attacks, but Diana was nervous; the Cheetah had no rhyme or reason to her attacks. Normally, she could have defeated someone with no consistent style easily, but the Cheetah’s speed and strength were throwing her off-guard and keeping her on her toes. If Diana didn’t get her shot in, the Cheetah would, and by the look of them, her claws dug deep.



Despite being assigned to the mystics branch of A.R.G.U.S., Steve Trevor knew comparatively little about the finer points of magic. He wasn’t entirely clueless, but next to his superiors he had almost no experience, with the majority of his knowledge coming from his father’s old war stories. However, the invasion of the monsters proved to be a learning experience for him. The most notable thing fact he picked up was that animal-men took bullets the same way regular animals and men did.

The stone men, however, were proving to be a bigger challenge, shrugging off gunshots like they were nothing; slowed, but not stopped. Dr. Mist was handling them, disassembling the things with his own magic, leaving only a pile of stones and a drop of blood. Steve had never before seen the doctor in action, and was surprised to find just how practical his rich knowledge of mysticism was proving to be. He was fighting off the invading army as competently as Steve, his incantations and his motions proving to be just as effective as the colonel’s gun.

“Any idea what this is, doc?” Steve asked after ejecting the clip from his firearm and loading in another one.

“I don’t know. The beast-men could be Circe’s design, but she’s supposed to be a myth,” Dr. Mist answered as a beam of green light shot from his hand and disassembled a stone man. He chuckled. “Then again, so is Paradise Island, so nothing’s set in stone.”

“What about the Cult of Ares?” the colonel said. “They’ve gotten their hands on serious magic, they could be behind this.”

“I’ve looked into the Cult,” the doctor answered. “They’re smart and well-informed for civilians, but they have limited access to actual magic. If they’re capable of something like this, they can only be assisted by Ares himself.”

“If they were, then what would be the endgame?” Steve asked as he put three bullets into a charging ram-man. “What value does A.R.G.U.S. HQ hold?”

He saw Dr. Mist give a look of shock before whispering, “The Black Room.” Then he said louder, “I must go, Colonel Trevor,” before he sunk into the floor itself and vanished.

Steve knew where he was going. The Black Room was one of the most secure vaults in the world, and held some of its most dangerous cargo. Located beneath A.R.G.U.S. headquarters, behind an endless succession of security checkpoints, the Black Room was where Dr. Mist and other agents of the mystics branch of A.R.G.U.S. stored the otherworldly artifacts they discovered. It was a sort of evidence locker for the most dangerous items in the world, and in the wrong hands, it could be an arsenal that would bring the country to its knees. It was a safe bet that the disciples of the God of War would be the wrong hands. And while Steve understood the necessity of guarding the Black Room, he didn’t appreciate being left alone with beast-men continuing to pour into the headquarters.

“C’mon, doc! Don’t do this to me!” he yelled to a man who wasn’t there. He popped the last of his spare clips into his Beretta and looked around. Without him realizing it, the fighting had stopped. The beast and stone men stood still in a circle around him, anxious and waiting. It was in this stillness that Steve was most terrified; he turned quickly on his feet, trying to catch a glimpse of any movement from the invaders, trying to figure out where to shoot.

He got his answer when a new beast-man stepped forward; a giant of a monster, one foot taller and six inches wider than any of the others. This one was a lion, with a great mane surrounding its head and a deep growl coming from behind its razor sharp teeth. Unlike the rest of the beasts, the lion wore armor: shiny silver, stained here and there with blood, with a very familiar insignia of a spear carved into it.

“God help me,” Steve muttered breathlessly. Then he added, “Hera help me too.” It was a phrase he sometimes heard Diana say to give herself resolve or strength, but Steve had never placed much value on the phrase. Now, however, as he stared down the jaws of a monster, with his only chance of survival depending on the precious few bullets in his gun, Steve was willing to believe in anything, and pray to anyone.

To Be Continued...