Post by DiscipleofBob on Apr 30, 2014 22:22:05 GMT -5
Issue 12, Shroud of Death, Part One
Although Diana dreaded what would happen if anyone learned of her home, she was surprisingly relieved. Secrecy did not come naturally to her, and although Trevor and his family had been more than hospitable, the past few weeks had been filled with solitude. Once Etta and Vanessa had pieced together enough of the truth, Diana had no reason to keep it from them. Her home. Her life. Her quest. Her biggest concern had been to keep Themyscira’s existence a secret to the world, but the world already knew about Themyscira, at least from a limited perspective.
Stories of ancient times. Of the warrior Amazons. Of the gods and heroes of her childhood. But all the stories were just that, derived from the same Greek mythology that comprised the basis of Themysciran culture. For that reason a lot of the stories were incomplete or inaccurate, and many versions existed. Even if Diana told the story of her life, to the world of man it would just be another story.
Diana had worried that revealing her secret to one might reveal it to the rest of the world, but if anything Etta and Vanessa were even more supportive of her “secret identity” as they phrased it. Now Diana not only had allies, but guides to this unfamiliar world. In the week since the museum attack, Etta and Vanessa had been introducing her to everything about their world they could find.
In the meantime, although Diana’s hunt for the Baroness continued, she had realized her quest would be much longer than she originally thought. Although she would remain vigilant, until she found another lead to pursue, the only thing she could do was to acclimate and learn as much about man’s world as possible.
For the first time since Diana entered the world of man, she was without her armor. Although Etta and Vanessa helped her choose an outfit from Dr. Kapatelis’s unused wardrobe, even in the long-sleeved professional suit and full-length slacks, Diana felt naked. Only her silver bracers and tiara remained. The bracers couldn’t be removed even if Diana allowed it, and the tiara could be mostly covered with some creative hair styling. Fortunately her new shoes blended in as perfectly ordinary if stylish black leather heeled boots. The only unique aspect betraying their nature were small silver wing-shaped buckles, hardly noticeable except from an extremely close and discerning eye.
Dressing in what Etta and Vanessa described as normal clothes was only the first challenge for Diana. Every time she learned one new aspect of the culture, there were a dozen more to learn. Etta in particular seemed to determine to give Diana a crash course in western culture during the weekend.
Etta reveled in being Diana’s tour guide. Stepping off the city bus (an enlightening experience for Diana on the quality of western hygiene) Etta took a grandiose bow. “And now, Diana, I present to you, the hallmark achievement of western commerce, that place where anything and everything is possible for the right price, the one, the only, the Gateway Galleria!”
“It’s just a shopping mall,” Vanessa sighed under her breath, reluctantly following along.
The shopping complex was a welcome change from the rest of the city. Instead of giant blocks made of polished mirrors or spotless white concrete, the mall had more varied architecture with randomly angled archways and strange sculptures that Diana could not discern a practical purpose for. Crowds of people flocked in and out carrying large multicolored bags. Etta has to restrain herself from skipping towards the front entrance while Vanessa trudged behind, leaving Diana to awkwardly bridge the distance between the two.
“You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy,” Vanessa joked.
“Should I be on alert for scum or villainy?” Diana asked with sudden urgency.
“I didn’t mean… nevermind.”
“One step at a time, Ness,” Etta jumped in, not missing a beat as they entered the outdoor central plaza, “Pop culture comes later. First, we need to cover the basics: food, fashion, and free shit. The three basic elements of a mall.” “And this is the food court. You want the culture of the world? Here you’ve got Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Mexican, Mongolian barbecue, burgers, subs, chili, and frozen yogurt. And it’s all also somehow American.”
Diana surveyed the vast mess hall, as people of all shapes and sizes (though mostly short and out of shape from her perspective) lined up to pick and choose between vendors that surrounded the area was left without something edible. The smells were suspicious to Diana, but she tried to keep an open mind.
"Grab a tray!" Etta encouraged. "Try whatever you like! Go nuts!"
Diana nodded and complied. Etta and Vanessa quickly grabbed their food and found an empty table, Etta with a large double cheeseburger, cheese fries and a fruit smoothie, while Vanessa just poked at a small salad.
Etta took the moment to speak to Vanessa privately. "Geez, girl, could you try sulking some more? I don't think you've brought down everyone in the room."
"I don't know. Do you really think the mall is the best place to take Diana? I mean shouldn't we be covering our history? Our laws? Our government and politics?"
"Psh, that ain't important. Diana isn't taking an SAT, she's learning how to blend in the culture, and there's no better place for her to learn. Here it won't matter if she acts like a weirdo because half the people at the mall on any given day are freakshows, and no one judges them. You know why? Cause they got money to spend like everyone else, and here that's the great equalizer."
"I guess. I don't know. Maybe I'm just uncomfortable because I'm not a mall type of girl," Vanessa moped.
"Tell you what. You pick what we do next weekend. Cool?"
Vanessa beamed up. "Can we go take a trip to DC? Visit the Smithsonian?"
Etta rolled her eyes. "If you want to go to another museum that badly then sure, we'll make a day of it."
It was enough to at least cheer Vanessa up as Diana returned with a tray completely filled from edge to edge, and stacked about a foot high with every item available from every menu. Vanessa and Etta's eyes widened at the strange casserole of things they hadn't even known were available here.
“Damn girl! You're planning on eating all of that?”
Diana blinked in confusion, wondering if she had misunderstood. “You implied it would be beneficial for me to sample as much as possible,”
“How much did all that food cost you?" Etta asked, her mouth watering at the cornucopia of fried and processed foods.
“Cost?”
The three sat in awkward silence with Diana in the dark. A throat clearing drew their attention to an angry unpaid cafeteria worker standing over their table.
Diana, trying to be polite, offered a french fry. “Would you like some?”
While Etta smoothed things over with the mall workers and wracked up far more credit card debt than she thought was possible at the food court, Vanessa and Diana watched awkwardly.
Diana leaned in closer to confer. “I do not understand. Did I do something inappropriate?”
Vanessa tried to tactfully explain. “I’m guessing they don’t have money where you come from? How do you pay for things?”
“I do not understand.”
“Like if someone on your island wants something, how do they acquire it?”
“They take it.”
“What if that something belonged to someone else?”
“Then they would ask," Diana answered quickly, not quite understanding why it would be different elsewhere.
“What if the other person didn’t want to part with said object?”
“Then they’d better be more convincing, find a replacement, or learn to go without. Not that anyone back home wanted for anything. We had more than ample enough food, gear, and other supplies for everyone.”
“Well, the rest of the world doesn’t have enough for everyone. So we have money.”
“And that is money?” Diana asked, pointing to the small blue card Etta reluctantly gave the cashier.
“That's credit. It’s like money you pay back later.”
Diana’s eyes suddenly widened in realization. As Etta dragged herself back to the table, Diana stood up and bowed her head. “I apologize. You incurred a debt due to my ignorance. I will pay back your generosity.”
“Damn straight you will. How do you break 200 bucks at a food court anyway? OW!” Etta grumbled before a sharp kick in the shin from Vanessa changed her mind for her. “I mean it’s not your fault. We didn’t tell you, and it’s not like you had any money to begin with anyway. Looks like lunch is on me.”
“Please, take whatever you like."
Etta shrugged in resignation. "Might as well."
The three finally sat down to eat. Etta happily choked down as the regret of spending so much money started to lift. Vanessa tried not to gag at the mere sight of Diana's plate, while Diana herself took individual bites, chewing slowly, wearing an impenetrable stoicism that would shame the most hardened of poker players. She never took more than one bite of any single item, and would observe not just Etta and Vanessa but everyone for visual cues on how certain foods were to be eaten properly, but there didn't seem to be a uniform consensus.
“So what do you think?” Etta finally asked.
“Is all food in your world so… greased?” Diana tried to respond tactfully. Etta scowled and Vanessa had to stifle her laughter.
“Well, I'm stuffed. Come on, time to go burn some calories at Macy’s.”
Just as Etta reached for her purse, another hand quickly snatched it up. A short figure in a hoodie seemingly appeared from nowhere, grabbing the purse and darting through the crowd like a quarterback.
"Sonuva...! Hey! Purse-snatcher! Somebody stop her!"
The crowd noticed the mugger only too late as within seconds the hooded figure had dashed halfway across the food court. Convinced of escape, the mugger turned a corner only to find Diana waiting for her. Neverminding how she'd gotten ahead so quickly, the mugger turned around as Vanessa was just turning the corner, Etta coming around shortly after. Before another exit could be found, Diana picked the mugger up by the scruff of the hood.
"Is this the scum and villainy I was to be searching for?" Diana asked in what may have been an amusing quip had it not been a completely honest question. The criminal in question was a short blonde teenager a few years younger than Vanessa. She stopped struggling once she was lifted off the ground in one arm. That and the look of shock when the mugger and Vanessa saw each other's faces paralyzed them both.
"Cassie?!"
The would-be mugger smiled weakly. "Hey, Ness. Long time no see."
"You know her?" Diana asked.
"She's Dr. Sandsmark's daughter. I used to look after her a few years ago, but that was apparently before she had turned to a life of crime!" Vanessa added accusingly.
"I was just short on cash."
"Now hand it back!" Etta growled and Cassie quickly tossed the purse over. "Cannot believe you're snatching purses now. And from Vanessa? You two were like BFFs once."
"I didn't know it belonged to you guys. I was only looking at the purse."
"You mean you've done this before?!" Vanessa yelled.
"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not admitting to anything," Cassie replied coldly. "By the way, I don't know who your musclebound friend is here, but can you ask her to put me down already?"
Before Diana could say anything, Vanessa angrily answered. "No! It doesn't matter if you were stealing from us or from complete strangers. Stealing is wrong!"
"I said I was sorry," Cassie said, rolling her eyes much to Vanessa's chagrin.
"Shall I turn her over to the authorities?" Diana asked.
Vanessa sighed. "No."
"Aw, I knew you still liked me. NOW can I go?"
"I'm only saying we should let you of because the last thing your poor mother needs right now is to bail you out. You know she's worried sick about you?" Vanessa scolded.
Cassie scoffed. "Please. Mom couldn't care less. She probably forgets she even has a daughter."
"That's not fair! She's trying the best she can," Vanessa argued.
"How would you know?"
The two kept arguing as all Diana and Etta could do was exchange glances as they continued arguing, Cassie still suspended in the air.
The Russian went through each ritualistic movement slowly, meticulously as he has done a thousand times before. The tripod was firmly planted on the edge of the roof. The stock and shoulder guard were secured so the recoil wouldn't injure him. On again he adjusted for the ever-changing wind factor.
No obstacles were in the way. No possible obstructions or messy civilian casualties to get in the way at the last second.
The Russian looked down the scope of the barrel. Four bodies. Three young teenagers, and the fourth, the target, her back to the Russian's view, not that she'd be able to see anything at this range if she turned around anyway. The reticle, adjusted for wind, centered square in the back of the target's head.
The Russian took a deep breath and pulled the trigger...
A deafening shot rang across the mall, followed instantaneously by a loud clink almost undiscernible from the shot. The instant after, Diana had whipped around, her free arm raised. The ricochet left a bullet hole in a nearby wall, still smoking.
"Can I PLEASE go now?" Cassie was suddenly very nervous and struggled to get free.
Diana quickly glanced at the small smoking hole in the wall and the spot on her bracelet she had felt the bullet struck. Getting a rough idea of the trajectory of the bullet, she dropped Cassie and took off, gliding as a blur through the air.
The Russian had to check his scope again. The target had definitely been unaware of his presence, but had seemingly started moving before he pulled the trigger.
Then even afterward the target still looked around for the source of the gunshot. Was it just dumb luck?
The mystery was puzzling, but it passed quickly, allowing for him to take aim for another shot, hoping to salvage the mission if possible.
This time before he could fire, something struck the sniper rifle. When he looked for the problem, he saw a black metal projectile imbedded in the barrel, rendering the whole gun useless. A large shadow covered his position, and as the Russian looked up, a black shroud swooped down from an adjacent rooftop, blotting out the sun.
"Time to go," the Russian grimaced. He always had an escape plan, but the op was unsalvageable.
Diana soared up to the most likely source of the shot, and found what she was looking for. Using her super speed, Diana grabbed the neck of her attacker and slammed it against the wall. "Who are you?! Do work for the Baroness?!" Last time it had been the hulk called Übermensch. This time it was a man dressed all in black except for a yellow belt. It was full body armor the likes Diana had never seen before. The mask that covered his face and his cape gave an almost animal motif.
"You've got it wrong," he replied with a stoic calm Diana wasn't expecting. "I'm not the one who attacked you. Unfortunately the shooter escaped."
Diana looked into the eyes beneath the cowl. Cold and unyielding, full of secrets, not betraying any emotion Diana could read. "Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't," was the immediate response. "You shouldn't trust anyone. You should rely on your own instincts and the evidence before you." Diana eyed him skeptically. "I'm sure you could figure it out on your own, but in the interest of time I'll explain."
"First of all, if I was the shooter, then even you could tell that this sort of bluff would be a bad call with no real chance of working."
"That doesn't prove anything. You could just be desperate or a poor tactician," Diana nodded.
"I'm not," he said with unwavering confidence. "But you're right in that it's not enough to exonerate me. Now I know your knowledge of modern firearms is limited, but what can you tell me about the gun?"
Diana carefully afforded herself a quick glance at the rifle. "It's been damaged," she concluded. The black metal shard sticking out of the barrel had a particular motif, matching that if the masked man. "That was you?"
"I wasn't able to locate him fast enough to stop the first shot, but I made sure he wouldn't get a second," he confirmed. "Finally, if you were to ask your friends, they could tell you from their various superhero sighting forums that we're on the same side."
"And what side is that?"
"Justice."
Although Diana could tell that the masked man still held many secrets, she believed his earnestness at least enough to let him down. "I apologize for the false accusation. Now who are you?"
After being let go, the masked man loosened his grip on the small pouch of his utility belt, thankful he didn't have to retaliate and fight her on top of tracking an assassin. "Call me Batman. And no need for apologies, Wonder Woman."
"Actually it's-" Diana tried to correct before being interrupted.
"Aliases only. The less people know about us, the easier it is to do our work and protect those around us," Batman quickly explained as he surveyed the scene, looking for even the tiniest details that could give him information. "What do you already know about the assassin?"
"Very little," replied Diana. She remained unconvinced that being called something as grandiose as Wonder Woman, but if this was how heroes operated in this world, then so be it. "Only that he most likely is working for the Baroness, and that she very likely provided him with an object of great power."
"Anatoli Knyazev. He used to work for the Russians before the Cold War ended. Then he took up freelance mercenary work. He's solely credited with over a dozen high-profile assassinations of world leaders as well as single-handedly waging guerrilla warfare in South America, and numerous other black ops internationally. Rumor has it he almost made an attempt on Reagan during his administration before the Russians signed the INF treaty and nullified the contract. Interpol's name for him is 'the Beast of the KGB.'" Batman found nothing that could be used as a lead, even on the rifle left behind. "You said his employer might have equipped him with something new?"
Diana nodded. "The Baroness carries stolen artifacts with the power of the gods, and is willing to give them to her minions."
"What kind of powers are we talking about?"
She was hesitant to reveal too much about the artifacts, lest this Batman might covet them for himself. But information needed to be shared if this 'Beast' were to be captured. "Their powers are varied, but I do not know all of their powers. The best I can offer is that these artifacts may very well be the same if not similar to those found in what you called Greek mythology."
"To vanish like this, he'd need to have some kind of teleportation or invisibility." Batman thought for a moment, going through what he knew on the subject. "In the story of Perseus, there was a helmet that made him invisible," he suggested. "But if it was just that, I should still be able to track him. Noise, thermal imaging, sonar, there have to be ways to track him."
Diana followed up. "If we're speaking Hades's helm, then he would not simply be invisible. He would carry the same shroud that death itself does. A veil of the gods that can evade all detection by mortals. Believe me, there is much I know of that even the technology of your world cannot see."
Batman had no choice but to believe her. He was much more comfortable in the realm of science than in mysticism, and if it weren't for some if his past experiences, he might have dismissed Wonder Woman's claims entirely. "If that's true, then the only way to track him..." Batman hesitated, retreating his words into thought.
"What is it?"
"I'm going to try some other leads. He has to be sleeping and getting supplies from somewhere."
"Shall I join you?"
"No," Batman replied quickly, "No offense, but my methods require more subtlety. If I were you, I'd keep a close eye on your friends. Hopefully he won't try to use them to get to you."
Diana resented being left in the dark, but she couldn't argue that someone needed to keep an eye on the girls. "How do I contact you if I find anything out?"
"You don't. I'll find you." Pulling a grapple gun out of his utility belt, Batman fired it at an adjacent rooftop. "Be careful, Wonder Woman," he added before the retracting cable pulled him to the next rooftop.
Diana could have followed, and whatever Batman's motives she definitely couldn't say he was trustworthy, but for now decided to have faith as she left to rendezvous with the girls.
Cassie Sandsmark ran for several blocks without stopping or looking back. Not only did she almost get shot, not only did she caught stealing and by people she knew personally no less, but it wouldn't take long for Vanessa to realize her wallet had been stolen as well.
Served her right, trying to act like Cassie's mom and start lecturing her, or at least that's what Cassie told herself. She'd give back the wallet, maybe after some new jewelry to make a point. Nothing too expensive, maybe a bracelet or two.
Cassie found a secluded spot and opened the wallet. Driver's license, credit card, a few twenties. A handful of old gift cards and pictures, one of which gave Cassie pause. She pulled out the picture, several years old and frayed at the edges. It was from Halloween several years ago. Vanessa was dressed as Lady Blackhawk and Cassie as Wonder Girl. It was their favorite show at the time despite being several decades old, and it made sense for Vanessa to be Lady Blackhawk since she was older and it was based off her great grandmother anyway. Cassie liked Wonder Girl better since she had all the powers and did all the fighting anyway.
Suddenly Cassie's chest started to ache. It hurt so bad she started to even tear up. Good thing she was alone so no one could see her cry. They might think she was feeling regret, but they couldn't be more wrong. At least that's what Cassie told herself.
She wanted to tear the picture up into shreds right there. Who bothered to actually keep photos that weren't on a phone anymore? Vanessa was stupid for holding onto something like this. For some reason when Cassie tried to toss it, her hands wouldn't move.
A glove appearing from thin air plucked the picture from her unsuspecting hands. Before she could even guess what just happened, another glove appeared and picked her up by the throat, the rest of the man materializing shortly after. Tall, with thick muscles bulging even beneath the trenchcoat and layers of body armor and more weapons and equipment than one man should conceivably be able to carry, attached to countless belts and pouches strapped across his chest, waist, and every limb. The last part to form was a leather mask covering most of the man's scarred, wrinkled face.
"Not again," Cassie managed to rasp.
The leather-masked figure held up the picture, speaking in a thick Russian accent. "You will tell me how to find this girl."
To be continued...