Wonder Woman #3

This afternoon would be Cassandra Sandsmark’s second time this week skipping math class, and her fifth overall this semester. Her excuse was that Mr. Phillips was a perverted old bastard who was always made her come up to the chalkboard just so he could stare at her ass, but really it was because she wanted a cigarette and didn’t have the energy to pretend to care about algebra or quadratic equations or whatever the hell the old man was blathering on about.

This was another normal day at Gateway City’s not-so-prestigious Andopolis High School. Cassie had had a brief stint at the more elite boarding school, Newton Academy, but was departmentally released for her C- average. Her furious mother had dumped her into the first public school she could find, where Cassie stayed until she spray-painted ‘d@#$%g’ on the side of the vice-principal’s car. A bit drastic, perhaps, but it succeeded in getting her expelled and making sure she’d never have to talk to the bastard again.

Her mother cancelled a speaking gig at the New York History Museum just to come home and chew Cassie out. So, she was bumped to the only school left that would take her, her ‘last chance’ as mom so disdainfully called it. Like it or not – and Cassie most certainly did not – she was stuck at Andopolis for the next two years. Then her loving mother would likely kick her to the curb and…well, that was a problem for later, wasn’t it?

For now, all Cassie wanted was some fresh air, a smoke, and a room that didn’t reek of chalk dust and apathy. So, taking a spot behind the gymnasium, she lit up and appreciated the silence.

“Cassandra Sandsmark?”

So much for that.

The person questioning her was an older man, somewhere in his forties by the look of him, wearing a black business suit. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with long red hair tied back in a ponytail and unusually dark eyes. Cassie regarded him with annoyance.

“And you would be?” Cassie asked.

“Aaron Buchanan,” he answered. “I’m your father.”

Cassie laughed. She didn’t mean to, and stopped as soon as she could, but the statement, so random and so abrupt, had to elicit some response, and laughter came to mind before Cassie even thought of it. “I’m sorry,” she covered her mouth, trying to keep it in. “I’m sorry, it’s just…my father? You’re my father?” And then the more it sunk in, the less amused she was. “That’s not very funny,” she scowled.

“It’s not a joke, Cassandra,” he pressed. “I’m your father. And if you go with me, I’d like to show you something. You could call it your birthright.”

Buchanan gestured to a black limousine behind him. Cassie looked at it and raised an eye in skepticism. “Uh-huh…so if I go with you, how long before I wake up in a tub full of ice, missing a kidney?”

He looked at her quizzically. “Excuse me?”

Cassie blew out a puff of smoke. “Congratulations, old man,” she dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. “You’ve done the impossible: you’ve made school seem preferable. Kudos.” And with that, she turned and walked away.

Buchanan scowled and approached her, grabbing her by the shoulder. “We’re not done here, child.”

In one motion, Cassie shook off the old man’s grip, reached into her back pocket, pulled out a pocketknife and flicked it open. “Back off, @$#$%&,” she spat, brandishing the weapon.

At that, Buchanan chuckled. “You’re definitely mine, little girl.” He closed his fist and when it opened, a small pile of purple dust sat in it. He flicked it at Cassie, who coughed when it hit her face, before she wavered for a moment and then fell to the ground unconscious.

Ares hated sleeping dust. It was crude, simple, unrefined; it was no real form of combat. Still, for his plans to succeed, he had to stay in the shadows for now. He couldn’t let his true intentions be made public, and a whiff of poppy flowers was more effective than provoking a fight with an unrefined demigod.

The god of war lifted his unconscious daughter over his shoulder and carried her to the limousine, which had dropped its illusion and become a chariot pulled by two rams. Ares climbed in, snapped the reigns, and took off into the skies.



Steve Trevor dodged and rolled, ducking desperately to avoid the claws and jaws of the monstrous lion-man. He had already taken a deep scratch across the chest; his uniform was torn and bloody and his breathing was labored, but that was irrelevant. All that mattered was staying alive, and staying out of reach from the beast.

Can’t run forever, Steve thought to himself. Gotta fight. Gotta fight before the circle closes in. He was still surrounded by beast-men, watching the fight idly, making room where it was needed. It was unnerving. Steve took his mind off it by going for a weapon. His Beretta was out of ammunition and would only work as a blunt instrument, so that’s how Steve held it. With his free hand, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a Swiss Army knife and flicked the blade open with his thumb. It wasn’t much of an arsenal.

The lion saw Steve’s defense and, apparently, found it amusing. Its first show of emotion that wasn’t pure wrath and violence was a deep laugh at the colonel and the small weapons he held in both hands.

Steve scowled at the monster and spat, “Come at me, killer. I’ll turn your ass into a throw rug.”

The beast roared and charged at the ready Steve. The lion swung a claw at the colonel, who jumped back and narrowly avoid the attack. Seeing an opportunity, Steve ran forward and jammed his knife into the beast’s shoulder. It didn’t even seem to notice as it backhanded Steve, sending him flying back and slamming into the wall behind him. He felt the wind knocked out of him as he tried to shamble back to his feet, but couldn’t. The beast grinned wickedly, drool falling from its fangs as it lumbered towards Steve. Seeing no other option, the colonel hurled his empty gun at the lion, but his desperate attack went wide, and the Beretta bounced harmlessly off the chest of a spectating beast-man.

So this is how I die, Steve thought. Well, they can’t say I didn’t go out fighting. Dad’ll be proud of that.

An orange blur crashed through the wall beside him and collided with the lion-man, sending him to the ground. Steve was hit by the rubble and coughed on the dust, but was otherwise, miraculously, still alive. Turning his head, Steve saw that there was now a sizeable hole in the wall, and stepping out through it was Diana of Themyscira, her arms cut and bleeding and her face twisted into a bitter scowl. It brightened when she saw Steve on the ground and helped him to his feet.

“Colonel Trevor,” she said. “Were you lying down on the job?”

“Me, princess?” he answered before coughing again. “I had them on the ropes, before you burst in and took all the glory.”

At that, Diana actually smiled. “You just can’t admit I saved your life, can you?”

“Fine. You saved me,” he said in mock admiration. “My heroine.”

Diana looked forward, and her smile faded. “Oh no, she’s getting up.”

The orange blur had come into focus, and looked like a woman, covered in pale orange fur with black spots, with a tail sprouting behind her. She got to her feet, found Diana, and snarled at her, her feline eyes staring daggers at the Amazon princess.

“Why won’t you die already?!” the Cheetah spoke with pure malice. She charged forward with great speed, but Diana was ready for it, punching her in the stomach to stop her and quickly grabbed the Cheetah and hurled her down a hallway, far away from Steve and the rest of the beast-men.

“Excuse me, colonel,” she said in a restrained tone before running down after her.

“Hey wait! You can’t leave me…alone…” Steve trailed off when he realized that the attention of the beast-men had turned back to him. “Ah hell,” he muttered. He bolted through the hole in the wall and ran away, with the beasts in hot pursuit.



Cheetah was angry. Furious. She didn’t care about anything at that moment; not about her injuries, not about A.R.G.U.S. base, not about the beastiamorphs or Circe or Ares. All she cared about was making Diana suffer.

She rushed the princess again, this time leaping from wall to ground to wall again, in an attempt to throw of Diana. The Cheetah slashed, but Diana barely blocked it with her bracelet. She grabbed the Cheetah and hurled her once again; this time the beast went through an open door into an office and crashed through and out of the building. She skidded to a halt on the grass outside, with broken glass dotted with her fur and blood surrounded her.

This was the one hit too many. Cheetah tried to leap to her feet, but her back was stiff, and injured, and she stumbled and fell back as soon as she landed. She tried to get up again, but was slammed down, with a blue boot pressing on her chest.

The Cheetah snorted and spat out a mouthful of blood. “Go ahead, kill me. My masters are far scarier than you.”

“Who are you working for?!” Diana barked, at the end of her patience. She suppressed a scream as she felt four sharp claws dig into the side of her leg.

“Someone who isn’t so easily distracted,” Cheetah smirked. She threw Diana back and scrambled to her feet. This was her last, best chance. She rushed forward and tackled the princess, sending them both to the ground. The Cheetah aimed a careful strike of her claws at her foe’s head, but as it lowered, Diana grabbed her by the wrist and stopped the attack mere centimeters before it broke skin. The Cheetahs hand trembled in Diana’s grasp, trying to finish its attack, and it was all Diana could do to keep it from making contact.

“Let’s…cut up…that pretty little face of yours,” the Cheetah said, wearing a grin of sick delight.

Against her better judgment, despite training herself to never fight with cruelty or true malice, Diana tightened her grip around the Cheetah’s wrist, until she felt the sickening crack of a bone. Cheetah restrained a cry of pain, but eased her attack for a moment. A moment was all Diana needed as she hurled the beast off of her.

“You #$%&^!” the Cheetah rasped. “I’ll gut you for that!”

But Diana was already on her feet and running towards her foe, her golden lariat in her hands. Before the Cheetah could react, Diana had wrapped the lasso around her and tightened it, pulling the Cheetah to the ground and pressing down on her with a boot again.

“Tell me the truth!” Diana barked at her. “Who do you—”

She trailed off when she realized what had happened. The Cheetah was gone; in her place, on the ground, trapped by the lasso, was a young woman wearing the Cheetah’s clothes. She looked at herself, terrified by where she was and what was happening.

“What did you do?” she shouted at Diana. “Why am I like this? What did you do?!”

Diana was too stunned to answer. Before she could say something in response, she was suddenly barreled over from behind. A lion-man was behind her, wearing armor and what appeared to be a pocketknife jammed into his shoulder. He scooped up the woman and tore the lasso off of her. Diana watched as the woman suddenly grew fur, claws, and size, until she was once again the Cheetah, though still clutching at her broken wrist.

“Put me down! I’m not done with her!” she scowled, but the lion heard none of this. Instead, he produced a glass orb from a pouch on his belt and tossed it forward. It shattered on the ground, releasing a vortex of green and purple lights. The lion-man, his ally in tow, jumped in, with the Cheetah glaring daggers at Diana until she disappeared, and the lights along with her.

When the portal and its travelers vanished, Diana saw something terrifying behind them: two people, one a pretty, well-dressed woman holding a microphone, the other a younger man with one eye peering through a camera, looking straight at her.

“Tell me you got that, Jerry,” the woman said, her mouth agape and her eyes wide.

“Every second of it,” he answered with a satisfied grin.

The thrill of the battle was leaving her and the exhaustion was beginning to set in. Still, Diana forced herself to run, to flee from the gaze of the camera, and to hide. Even still, she knew it was too late; she was exposed. A.R.G.U.S.’s little secret was out. This was going to change everything.



Steve stepped aboard the invisible jet, a feeling he couldn’t quite get used to. The fact that this vehicle was apparently a living being from beyond the stars was unsettling. The interior looked familiar enough – as familiar as a jet made of crystal could be – but walking inside it still felt…unnerving, like he was trespassing and could be caught at any moment.

It was aboard the jet that he found Diana in a state he had never seen before; tired, sweating, and with a bloody cloth wrapped around her leg. She looked up when she heard him enter, jumped to her feet (wincing as she did), and rushed to embrace him.

“Thank Hera you’re alive,” she said.

“You too, princess,” he answered.

“Are you alright?” Diana asked as she stepped back.

“I’m fine, just a few cuts and bruises,” Steve answered as he sat down. “The big lion might’ve killed me, but troops managed to get to the armory, came back with guns and cut through the animals. Turns out they don’t like bullets so much. The ones that weren’t killed split; we think they have some method of teleportation.”

“How many of our people died?” she asked.

Steve took a breath and said, “We haven’t finished counting yet, but…eleven, so far. Probably more.”

There was silence between the pair as the number hung heavy on them. Steve looked up at his friend and said, “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

She looked away from him and said, “Hiding.”

“From what?” Steve asked. “You looked like you were handling the cheetah girl just fine.”

“I was exposed,” Diana said. “The fight went outside, and when it was done, when I…failed to keep the Cheetah from escaping, there was a man there with a camera, and he saw me. I thought it would be best if I weren’t anywhere that could be seen.”

Steve should’ve been angry. He should’ve worried about the ramifications of Diana making it to the nightly news, what it would mean for the world to know A.R.G.U.S. had its own private superhuman. Instead, he calmly put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said, “It’s alright, we’ll work this out. The guys up top know how to work PR, they can spin this and make it work. It’ll be alright.”

At that moment, the voice of General Phil Darnell came over Steve’s communicator. “Colonel Trevor, come in. Did you find the princess?”

Steve sighed, picked up the communicator, “This is Colonel Trevor; I have the princess with me. She’s suffered a leg wound but is otherwise unharmed.”

“Good,” General Darnell said. “Because the boss is coming to base, and he just ordered you two to go to the safe house.

Steve’s eyes went wide, and he didn’t say anything for a moment. “Colonel Trevor!” the general’s voice shook him from his silence. “Colonel Trevor, do you copy?”

“I copy, General,” he answered. “We’ll be there shortly. Trevor out.”

He returned his communicator to its place at its side. Steve knelt in front of Diana and spoke to her in a controlled, but urgent tone. “Now I don’t want to rush you princess, but one of the heads of A.R.G.U.S. is on his way here, and he’s a very important man to us, and he’s ordered us to go somewhere else; somewhere safe. You think you can go there with us?”

She looked up and said, “Yes, yes I think I can do that.”

“Good,” Steve said as he stood up. “That’s very good, Diana.” He paused. “Do you have a spare change of clothes here? Like…like real clothes?” Diana nodded. “Then you should probably get dressed before we go out there. We’ll be…we’ll be in public, so...”

Diana nodded in agreement. As Steve turned his back on her, Diana opened a compartment at her feet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. “You didn’t tell the general what happened?” she asked.

“Didn’t think it was necessary,” Steve answered. “Besides, he’ll learn soon enough – him and everyone else.”

“What’s going to happen?” Diana said. “When the world learns that I exist, what’ll happen to us?”

“Well, I can guess that I’m going to be fired, then demoted with extreme prejudice, if not just discharged,” Steve sighed. “You’ll keep working for A.R.G.U.S., but it’ll be much more regulated than our current – excuse me, former setup. You’ll be on their schedule, fighting the battles they pick, probably do a lot of public speaking, trying to drum up more sympathy and more funding for the Group. They’ll downplay the Greek mythology angle, maybe come up with a new backstory for you-”

“So they’ll be lying?” Diana interrupted him.

“Well this is all hearsay,” he said. “But yeah, they’ll probably be lying, or at the very least omitting the truth.” Steve sighed. “We live in a scary time, princess, and I’m scared out of my mind. Between the Superman of Metropolis and that nutjob Batman, and now an army of monsters knocks on our front door…what I’m saying is, people are scared of superhumans. The higher-ups may end up lying about you, but not they’re just trying to make people feel safe. The truth can be a scary thing.”

Diana placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw that she was fully dressed and, against all odds, smiling at him. “Then let’s be brave and face the truth.”

And, despite everything, Steve actually chuckled. He nodded, and the two walked side-by-side out of the jet.



There was a car waiting for Diana and Steve when they got to the main entrance. This was good, because both of them wanted to get as far away from that place as soon as possible. The area was cordoned off with yellow tape, and inside the perimeter were five ambulances, with EMT’s treating the wounds of many A.R.G.U.S. agents. Also, in the field to the right, where the Cheetah had escaped, were rows of body bags. Some were being loaded into a sixth ambulance, but it seemed to be a slow process, one the made the pair sick to see. Without looking back at it, the two wordlessly climbed into the car and drove down the long lane towards the front gate, which was a mess of a different kind.

The crowd seemed impenetrable, a small army of cameras and commentators trying to get a peek at the madness on the A.R.G.U.S. grounds. Uniformed police officers were keeping them from outright climbing the walls, and were helpful enough to make a gap in the crowd as the steel gate opened, allowing Steve, as well as two of the ambulances, escape.

The safe house was an apartment some eight blocks away from A.R.G.U.S. base; a nondescript two-story house, no different than the ones next to or across from it. The interior was nice enough, but more than a bit dull, as no one was ever meant to live there. Once Steve and Diana arrived, their only job became to wait. They alternated keeping watch and eating, showering, and sleeping for hours before Steve made a remarkable discovery.

“They have beer!” he raised a bottle as Diana came into the kitchen. “Good stuff, too. ‘Secret Select’. You want one?”

“Good gods, yes,” she mumbled as she opened another bottle and took a long drink. “Is there anything stronger here?”

“We’re not that lucky, princess,” Steve answered. As he took another drink, the pair heard a sudden sound, a shrill beep that made them both jump. They both let out a breath when they realized it was just Steve’s cell phone. “Should’ve probably turned this off,” he chuckled before checking the caller and answering. “Hey, Tracy…yeah, I’m fine…you did? How?…okay, Tracy…Tracy…Tracy, calm down. I’m fine, I’m alive, but I can’t talk right now. If dad calls tell him the same…right…okay, love you too.” He hung up the phone and promptly turned it off.

“Apparently, we’ve made the news,” Steve said. He made his way to living room where a television was set up, the remote next to it. Steve picked it up and turned on the set, changing channels until he made it to twelve, then sat back and watched, as sharp-looking man in his forties narrated to them.

“-story: an attack on the D.C. headquarters of the Advanced Research Group for Uniting Superhumans has left several of their soldiers dead or wounded, though no civilian casualties have thus far been reported. The culprits are still unknown at this time, though some witnesses claim that the attackers were in elaborate animal costumes. Our own Samantha Lang caught this footage of one of the attackers, fighting a strangely-dressed woman on the A.R.G.U.S. premises…”

As the newsman described the video of the battle between Diana and the Cheetah, tears welled in Diana’s eyes. Steve said nothing, but put an arm around her. Then, unexpectedly, the newsman put a finger to the piece in his ear, then turned back to the camera.

“We’re getting word now that the head of A.R.G.U.S. is on-hand and preparing to make a statement. We go now live to Sloan Tower.”

The scene then changed from the artificial background of the newsroom to a shot outside of a tall office building. In the center of the frame was a podium, with countless microphones attached to it, and behind that was the public head of A.R.G.U.S., Michael Holt.

Holt was the very picture of professionalism, his hair slick and styled, his suit impeccably pressed, the look on his face was as serious and somber as could be asked.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he said. “Thank you for attending. Many of you are curious about the attack that occurred on A.R.G.U.S. grounds today. Here are the facts as we know them: at 3:35 PM, a group of superhuman attackers stormed the front gate of A.R.G.U.S. headquarters and began to openly slaughter our soldiers, before they were driven into a full retreat. At this time, they took the lives of twenty-nine of our people. These brave men and women fought their hardest to protect their comrades from this senseless violence, and their courage, determination, and sacrifice will be honored in the coming days.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he said. “Thank you for attending. Many of you are curious about the attack that occurred on A.R.G.U.S. grounds today. Here are the facts as we know them: at 3:35 PM, a group of superhuman attackers stormed the front gate of A.R.G.U.S. headquarters and began to openly slaughter our soldiers, before they were driven into a full retreat. At this time, they took the lives of twenty-nine of our people. These brave men and women fought their hardest to protect their comrades from this senseless violence, and their courage, determination, and sacrifice will be honored in the coming days.

“At this stage, we believe the culprits to be members of fanatical religious group called the Cult of Ares. Why they have chosen to attack us, I cannot say at this time. However, we will ensure that these butchers are brought to justice, and are forced to answer for their crimes.”

Holt paused, took a breath, and then said his final piece.

“Many of you have no doubt seen footage of an armored woman, caught in a hand-to-hand brawl with one of the attackers. There has been speculation that this woman has superpowers and is a so-called ‘wonder’. While I cannot confirm or deny these allegations, I can tell you that the woman is an agent of A.R.G.U.S., and without her bravery and tenacity, the loss of life would be even greater. Many of our soldiers owe her their lives, and she has their gratitude, as well as mine.

“That is all I am able to say at this moment. Thank you for your time, good night, and god bless.”

There was an instant uproar of questions from off-screen reporters, but Steve quickly muted the television. “Well that could’ve gone worse,” he said, not knowing what else there was to say.

“Things are going to get more complicated now, aren’t they?” Diana asked.

“Oh yeah,” Steve nodded. “You’re a public knowledge, now. Welcome to the world, wonder.”