Post by DiscipleofBob on Apr 30, 2013 23:45:45 GMT -5
Issue 6, Discord
She had everything she ever wanted.
Wealth... Pleasure... Power...
It was all at her fingertips, all embedded in that shining golden surface.
She no longer needed to fight, to lie, to cheat, to steal, to kill.
Everything was as the way it should be. For the first time, perhaps ever, she truly knew bliss.
The box slammed shut mere inches from her face, that shining light suddenly cut off from her grasp. Without thinking, she quickly drew her pistol at the offender, who only smiled back at the trembling barrel pointed between her eyes.
“Well?” the Baroness asked with anticipation, “How was it?”
Her hands were shaking. She could not remember the last time they actually shook. Things started rushing back to her. Important things. Who she was. Where she was. The fact that the woman in front of her was not only her employer, but could gleefully do things to her even death camps would cringe at, and a bullet would do nothing to stop her.
“...the hell?” Cheetah lowered her weapon. “Son of a bitch, what was that?” She was panting. Her skin was flushed and sweating.
The room was a well-lit lounge, opulent and lavishly decorated. Silk curtains hung from the ceiling as golden falcons watched from atop the burning fireplace. Spread around the room were the various artifacts from the heist, one of which was inside the box that had somehow made her euphoric with just a look.
“That was what happens when one gazes upon the Golden Apples of Discord,” the sorceress across the room explained. “Not even goddesses are able to keep their minds when its luster reaches their eyes. In the future, if you wish to retain your sanity, I would recommend averting your gaze.”
The Baroness laughed giddily. “It’s like inducing severe withdrawal symptoms without having to go through the bother of inducing an addiction first. Just imagine the applications. Why, I bet I could break someone’s will in minutes just by giving them a small glance. I wonder what sort of goodies are in the other box.” She quickly reached for the second of their treasures, the small box that had given them so much trouble, before it vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing in Circe’s grasp.
“Our agreement was that you could do with the rest of these artifacts however you see fit. Pandora’s Box, however, goes to me.”
“Oh don’t be a spoilsport, Circe. I was only kidding. I just wanted to admire the craftsmanship,” the Baroness said with all the sincerity of a crocodile, and a smile just as cunning and frightening. “Besides, you said it was impossible to open.”
“We accomplished what was supposedly impossible just by reaching Themyscira, and after the three of us also humiliating the entire Amazon army, I am not willing to rely on whether something is considered possible or not.”
“Ah, good times,” the Baroness reminisced.
“You have enough treasures to occupy yourself,” Circe reminded her, motioning to the items on the table. “The Sandals of Hermes to grant you the speed of the messenger of the gods. The Helmet of Hades to become invisible like death itself. The Shield of Perseus. The Blade of Hephaestus.”
“I wonder how much this would go for on the Cairo black market,” Cheetah said allowed as she fondled a coil of rope that glowed with a bright golden hue. “Crap, did I just say that out loud?” she looked up with sudden realization.
“And of course the Lasso of Truth,” Circe said with a smirk. “I’d be careful with what toys you play with here, kitten. Many of these items are just as dangerous to those who wield them.”
Cheetah hastily dropped the rope before she could accidentally divulge anymore of her private thoughts. “Thanks for the warning, witch,” she growled, eliciting a glare from the sorceress.
“And with that, I take my leave,” Circe replied.
“Oh, so soon?” the Baroness cooed in a fake whine.
“Unfortunately, I have an appointment to keep. I trust that these and the other gifts of Themyscira that I have provided to you will occupy your time,” she said just before vanishing in a column of smoke.
“That’s a shame,” Circe feigned depression before instantly turning her eager attention to the other artifacts, “I wonder what this one does. Cheetah, dear? Care to help me with an experiment?”
“Fortunately for me, I’m on the clock,” Cheetah hastily declined as she headed for the door. “I just have to leave the old-fashioned way. No sudden appearing/disappearing acts for me.” She swung open the ornately carved double doors and nearly ran into the figure standing on the other side. “AH! Damn it, woman, watch where you’re going!”
The obstruction was a petite woman dressed in a complex, lime green disaster of fashion, the likes of which Cheetah thought were normally reserved only for runway shows to show off the designers’ ‘avaunt-garde’ nature and the models’ ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over ridiculous frocks. The porcelain mask covering her face only served more to make her seem like she stepped off a Broadway musical number.
But still, even with all that, the most noticeable feature of this woman was her eyes. Eyes that stared directly into Cheetah’s, eyes that demanded direct contact and recognition, eyes that looked as if they were judging Cheetah’s soul if she had one left.
Cheetah had vaguely noticed the woman before on previous visits to the Baroness’s penthouse, but had not paid her much attention despite her varying getups and apparent fetish for masks. “Nina, dear, what is it?” the Baroness called out.
Nina was the girl in the mask, Cheetah realized, finally learning her name as if that broke part of the spell the gaze had on her. “You asked me to inform you of any signs of the Amazon, Mistress.”
Only now did Cheetah and the Baroness notice the laptop Nina carried in both arms. On it was a paused video. It was blurry, probably taken from a phone, but it displayed a dark-haired woman in golden armor standing triumphantly. The title of the video displayed: ‘New Possible Super for Gateway: Wonder Woman?’
A smile spread on the Baroness’s face, far wider than a mouth should naturally bend, almost painfully so. “I do believe I suddenly have plans for tonight.” The Baroness grabbed the nearby box and tossed it into a black leather purse.
Cheetah raised a carefully plucked eyebrow. “Anything you need me on hand for?”
The Baroness waved a scolding finger. “Nuh-uh-uh. You're on the clock, remember? I'll be busy planning a little welcome party.”
===WW===
Just as Vanessa and Etta had worried, the entire school was buzzing with gossip. Fortunately, only a small portion of it was about the video from the circus. They both nervously went through the motions of the day in the crowded inner city school, waiting for someone to rush up to them about an unseen video with their appearance.
Only at the end of the day when they both piled into the jeep again could they confirm their findings.
“Looks like we're in the clear,” Etta sighed with relief as Vanessa fought with after-school rush hour traffic through downtown Gateway City. “If anyone has footage of us at the circus, they haven't posted it yet or drawn any conclusions.”
“Same here. Most eventful thing to happen to me today was Brad asking me out.”
“The pitcher?” Etta asked excitedly. “You say yes?”
Vanessa shook her head. “He's a nice enough guy and all, but he's so much of a jock I think he's looking for more of a cheerleader.”
“You're gonna go through high school without a single date, aren't you?”
Vanessa shrugged. “Fine with me. I don't see the point of high school relationships when both parties involved likely have to split up anyway to go to separate colleges anyway.”
“The fact that you refer to two people dating as 'both parties involved' only illustrates why you don't get the point of two people dating,” Etta said, rolling her eyes and smiling.
“What is up with this traffic?” Vanessa commented.
Normally, Etta would have accused her of trying to change the subject, but they had been stuck at a standstill for nearly twenty minutes now. Downtown traffic was very much stop and go in Gateway City, especially at this time of day, but it was almost never this bad. Honking the horn did not seem to work either, as heard by the rest of traffic which did so anyway.
“Is there an accident or something?” Etta wondered out loud. “I don't see any construction signs.”
Vanessa rolled down the driver's side window. “You hear that?”
The wailing was distant, but with the windows down Etta could hear it as well. “Sirens,” she worriedly confirmed.
Vanessa immediately started undoing her belt buckle. “I'm going to go check it out.”
“You're just going to leave your jeep in the middle of the road?”
“It's not like it's going anywhere,” she reasoned.
Etta was quick to follow, albeit reluctantly. “I need less curious friends.”
Traffic all down the street was indeed at a complete stand-still. Many of the cars were empty, the drivers having long ago had the same idea as Vanessa. Eventually the sirens were joined by the collective roaring of crowds, growing louder as Vanessa and Etta drew closer to the commotion.
The crowd was enormous. Smoke columns rose from fires with no known origin. Police were mixed in with the rioters, but they were useless in quelling the unrest. Without any sort of formation, they seemed to be equally responsible for the chaos.
The most baffling aspect was there did not seem to be any immediate cause. “Was there a sports team that won or lost or something?” Vanessa hazarded a guess.
“Shit, this is a full-out riot. Come on, Ness, let's get out of here,” Etta cautioned as she started to move away. Her friend remained still, staring at the carnage. “Vanessa?”
Without a word of explanation, Vanessa ran as quickly as possible towards the crowds.
“You've got to be fucking kidding me!” Etta tried to chase after her, but something had seemingly possessed Vanessa and she moved far faster than Etta had ever seen her. “What the hell is going on here?” When Etta finally caught up to the crowd, Vanessa was nowhere to be seen, forcing Etta to wade through the mosh pit, knowing the dangers. It was only a matter of time before a pair of large, grubby hands grabbed her by the shoulder. “Hey, hands off, asshole!” Etta was familiar to the dangers sometimes posed by urban living, and barely registering the man before she wheeled around and clocked him in the jaw with a fierce left hook. Despite his size he crumpled like paper. That was not about to stop the three behind him, shambling towards her like zombies.
”It belongs to me...”
“Don't take it...”
“So beautiful...”
Etta's eyes widened as every horror movie she had ever seen started playing in her mind and she rushed to find her friend. Fortunately, in the sea of leather jackets, city uniforms, and black t-shirts, Vanessa's long red hair and white blouse stuck out shining light. Etta had to shove and punch and kick her way through the crowds, and while it was not easy, it definitely would have been harder if these people were in anything resembling their right mind. Even stranger, Vanessa somehow managed to be at the center where the crowds were converging.
The zombie movie flashbacks were coming back again. Wasting no time in trying to save her friend, Etta tore through the crowds until she finally reached her. “Damnit, Ness, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”
She grabbed Vanessa by the shoulder, but was not expecting the skinny, demure 17-year old to suddenly wheel around and backhand her, her nails cutting surprisingly deep into Etta's cheek.
“It's mine! You can't have it!” Vanessa snarled. She never snarled. She rarely spoke harshly.
Etta was more shocked and confused than scared or betrayed. “What. The. Fuck.”
Vanessa's other arm was curled tightly around something Etta could not quite make out. Something that seemed to glow ominously. Etta tried focusing on the strange object, see if it matched up with any of her survival horror movie genres. As she focused on the object, the glow intensified until it started to fill her vision...
===WW===
Diana had to wonder if the living room of Colonel Trevor was typical of the outside world, as this was the first dwelling she had ever seen outside of Themyscira. It was cozy. Furnished with well taken care of furniture. She could not tell if the styles were antique or contemporary by modern standards, but it was definitely far different from the Greek influences at home.
One particular display held a glass case of pictures. They were a very different style from the photographs of Themyscira, but then again the art had probably evolved differently here than back home, and even then in Themyscira the preferred methods of expression were still painting and sculpture.
Still, the photographs painted an insightful picture themselves, opening a window into the lives of her hosts. She recognized the Colonel in several pictures, many showing a much younger man in a wide variety of military uniforms. The one that seemed the most prominent was a black uniform with the emblem of some kind of bird of prey.
The pictures contained a wide variety of combinations of the family. Some of Stephen, some of Vanessa, even some of Etta. In several of the photographs of them there was also a middle-aged woman, lean and rugged, and though she smiled she still seemed worn like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Diana could relate.
“That would be my daughter, Julia,” Stephen had surprised her again. It was unusual for even the other Amazons to be able to sneak up on Diana, but to her host it seemed to be his default method of introduction. He even carried a tray of refreshing beverages and homemade sandwiches and still failed to make any noise. “It's her room you slept in last night.”
Diana was surprised that her host would afford her the private quarters of a member of the family. “She does not mind?”
“She wouldn't, nah,” Diana could not help but notice the implication that Julia did not know of her presence just yet. “Julia has an apartment in the city she usually stays at during the week. She often has to work long hours at the Gateway History Museum.”
“Vanessa does not live with her mother?” Everything Diana had heard about the outside world implied that family units usually stayed together except in unique circumstances.
“At first it was because Julia often had to go on long trips overseas. Archaeological digs and the like, though to my knowledge she's never had to outrun boulders or fight off mummies.”
Diana allowed Stephen to continue his story, completely oblivious to his attempt at a bad joke. Instead, she was focused on the rare delicacy in front of her. “These, what did you call them, jelly and peanut butter sandwiches, are delicious! I've never had anything quite like this!”
Stephen raised an eyebrow, disbelieving that anyone could somehow avoid a life of nature's perfect food. “Anyway, it was either drag a young girl to dig sites or let her stay with her grandfather and go horseback riding. That and all of her friends were here too.
“Unfortunately Vanessa's father died when she was just a little girl. David was a good fellow too. Shame what happened to him. He was an archaeologist like Julia. Those trips to isolated ruins in third-world countries were occasionally dangerous. That might have also had something to do with Julia leaving Vanessa here in the states.”
“I worried a little about Julia, sure. But she was always a strong woman with a good head on her shoulders. I knew she would take every possible precaution, and I'd be something of a hypocrite if I tried to forbid my child from heading into danger. Seems to run in the family.” His own family exposition cued him to grab a particular photograph from the display: a black-and-white photograph of a young woman who bore some familiarity and similarities with the rest of the family photographs.
“This would be my mother, obviously back in her younger years. She's a Diana just like you. She and Julia were so much alike, strong, smart, and convinced they were invincible. I wish they could have had the chance to meet.” Diana noted a hint of sorrow in his voice. She could not imagine a life in which she had lost her mother, but death was apparently a common element in this world. The thoughts of her mother started to stir up her previous guilt which she had temporarily forgotten.
“What about you?” Stephen suddenly asked with a smile.
“Hmfph?” Diana was taken by surprise with her mouth full.
“Tell me something about yourself, Diana. Family? Where you came from?”
Diana swallowed the sandwich and delicately placed her food and drink back down. “I apologize, but I cannot.”
“Can't or won't?” Stephen quickly charged, his friendly smile never fading.
“Please understand,” Diana tried to explain. “It's not that I wish to be secretive or deceive you, especially after you've shown me such kindness.”
“But...?”
“There are certain rules where I come from. Rules about revealing ourselves to outsiders. I'm already saying too much.”
“Let me guess. If you told me, you'd have to kill me?”
“No! Not at all!” The reference, like many Stephen tried, was lost on Diana. “If anyone would suffer the consequences it would be me, and I probably have enough to answer for.”
“I see,” Stephen stroked his chin in thought, the wheels in his head quickly turning. “If, just hypothetically speaking, I were to just so happen to already know your secret, then you wouldn’t be breaking any rules, now would you?”
“I suppose, but I don’t see how...” Diana started to say before Stephen interrupted her.
“Well, gee, I didn’t mean to get you upset. We can’t have that, not in this household. I have just the way to lighten the mood. How about a game?” The sudden change in tone startled Diana. She was having trouble reading for any facial cues or tells, another thing she was not used to. Stephen ruffled through a closet of old boxes until he pulled out a small box of cards labeled '20 Questions'.
“I don’t think I’ve ever played this before.”
“Oh, it’s real easy. First you think of a person, real or fictional. Then I have to ask you questions about said person. Yes or no questions only, and I have 20 guesses to guess correctly. Here, we’ll make this easy. Pick a character...”
The box contained a large deck of cards with various famous people, fictional and historical. Diana tried to pick people she actually had heard of.
Stephen managed to guess every single character correctly in the allotted twenty questions. Diana struggled with even the selections Stephen thought would be easy. Diana managed to get Socrates, Genghis Khan, and Cleopatra, but failed to even recognize such characters such as Bugs Bunny, Babe Ruth, and, much to Stephen's dismay, Clint Eastwood.
Still she continued to play, if only to be polite to her host and to keep the conversation from straying to her past again. “I’m sorry. I’m apparently not very good at this.”
“You’re doing just fine. You’re learning,” Stephen reassured her. “One more round and we’ll quit. Remember, answer yes or no only.”
Diana looked through the cards. Theseus. Diana knew that myth well from when she was a child. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“1. Is your real name Diana?”
Diana's brow furrowed. This was not how he usually opened up the round. “Yes, but I...”
“Now now. Yes or no only. I play my games fair and square thank you. 2. Now is there a last name to go with that?”
“No,” Diana answered, leering.
“3. Are you from the United States?”
“No.”
“Foreign then, interesting. If I had to wager, I’d guess: Europe?”
The game had turned into an interrogation, and Diana's honesty combined with Stephen's penchant for fast-talking had already gotten her to reveal quite a bit of information she would not have volunteered willingly. “That’s not a question, and we’re done here.”
“Well, you’re free to surrender the game if you want to I guess. No shame in cutting and running,” Stephen smiled knowingly. Diana had the distinct feeling she got when losing in chess as a child. Her pride as an Amazon was being challenged. As well as her honesty and her obligation to hide the existence of Themyscira. Stephen's earlier words suddenly made sense. If he somehow luckily guessed her origin, she would not have revealed anything. If he knew enough about Themyscira to guess it in a game, clearly nothing of extreme secrecy was being revealed.
Still, it was her duty as an Amazon to make this difficult. “Ask the questions.”
Stephen's smile widened further. “4. Are you from Europe?”
“Yes.”
“5. Anywhere I’ve heard of?”
“I should hope not.”
“6. Are you a convict or a felon?”
Diana had to hesitate. She had committed what could definitely be considered a crime to her people. But she could not honestly say she had been charged with any of said crimes yet. “No.”
“7. Are you on the run from someone?”
As far as Diana knew, no one was pursuing her. Quite the opposite actually. The other Amazons would be stuck on Themyscira until she returned, and she must pursue Themyscira's true enemies. “No.”
“8. Were you ever in a hospital, prison, or asylum?”
“No.”
“9. Are you working for a foreign government?”
It was almost a trick question. On the one hand, she was working in the interest of Themyscira, but her actions were far from sanctioned. “No.”
“10. Did you commit a crime?”
“Yes.” That was unfortunately easy.
“11. Did you kill someone?”
“Absolutely not!” Although she wished she had the opportunity to kill those three and perhaps quell some of their carnage, she had never taken a life.
“12. Did you steal something?”
“Yes.”
“13. Are you endangering my family by being here?”
“No.” Diana had no reason to believe that her presence here could cause collateral damage to her host or his family, at least not yet. She would either leave before it became an issue or, if it came to it, protect them from harm.
Seven questions left. This was the farthest it had ever taken Stephen to guess correctly. Then again, it was quite the difficult secret.
Stephen suddenly glanced a the wall clock. “Well, look at the time. I better get started on dinner soon. Here, you’ve had a long day’s work, Diana. Let me get the TV set up for you and you just watch whatever strikes your fancy.” Diana had braced herself to continue and complete the interrogation, confident that she would not reveal that which she should not. Stephen's sudden disinterest in 'the game' utterly confounded her as he fooled around with the glass box in the corner until it showed talking heads in suits. He handed her a small device she quickly deduced was to manipulate the glass box of information as he left for the kitchen.
Diana decided not to question it further. If Stephen did not wish to continue the game, that was his prerogative. Her honor had been upheld.
“Breaking News: Here in downtown Gateway City a full-scale riot has broken out. The GCPD is struggling to contain the rioters, but the biggest question on everyone’s minds is why are people rioting? As far as we could find there have been no political events, sports events, attacks, nothing. People just seem to be in a frenzy. And...”
Diana's attention was suddenly turned to the smaller picture she assumed was of the city. She remembered from her and Stephen's earlier conversation that that was where Vanessa and Etta would be.
A sudden golden flash of light originating from the picture of the riots briefly overwhelmed Diana's senses.
“...we, er, appear to be experiencing some technical difficulties. More on this story as it develops.”
“So tell me, Diana, do you prefer your burgers well done or still mooing?” Stephen called from the kitchen, unaware of the breaking news.
Diana quickly stood up. “My apologies, Colonel Trevor. I am needed elsewhere. I will return shortly with that which belongs to you.”
“What was that? Speak up I can’t hear you over the sound of deliciousness.”
Stephen did not receive another reply, and when he turned to look for Diana, all he saw was the front door swinging back shut.
===WW===
It was so beautiful...
Like... love? Or something even more pure?
All of her troubles just seemed to vanish away...
What troubles?
What could she possibly have to worry about as long as that golden surface was there to comfort her...
But wait...
Something was trying to take it away from her...
Many things...
It was hers, not theirs...
Black tendrils grasped around that shining gold, her only comfort in the world, trying to pry it from her grasp...
She pulled back with all her strength... She had to fight for it... It was rightfully hers... It had to be... She needed it...
“It’s mine! You can’t have it!”
“Hands off, bitch!”
Vanessa and Etta were not the only ones fighting over the glowing object. Everyone within sight was crowding around, punching, kicking, clawing, anything to desperately grab at the object. Grown men were shoved over and trampled in the chaos, but they were ignored, unimportant to the one unimportant in the mind of everyone there.
The outside world barely registered in their perception. Crashed cars. Unconscious wounded. Even the news chopper training its spotlight on the scene.
A swift, steady beat of clops drew closer, and only until the pure white horse and its armored rider had pivoted off a nearby car, seemingly flying over the crowd, were they paid any notice. That brief moment of distraction was enough for Diana to swing down the small jeweled bag, one of many left behind by those afflicted by the apple's magic, down and wrest the apple from the grip of the crowd below. All the while she took great care not to look at the apple directly.
Her mount cleared the crowd like a champion stallion, landing with perfect grace without so much as grazing any of the rioters. The apple was now safely hidden from sight, but that would not stop its magick from inciting their greed. The crowd gazed half in rage, half in wonder at the sight as the horse reared up and proudly neighed its challenge. Diana said nothing, but held up the purse with the coveted contents within.
“Give... give it back!”
It did not take long for the crowd to charge after Diana, moving as one hive mind of idolaters, tripping over each other like a swarm of hungry rodents. Diana could have probably outrun them on her own, but as the horse turned and galloped down main street, the crowd did not stand a chance in keeping up.
Even with their crazed adrenaline, stragglers started breaking off from the crowd, half too exhausted to continue, half trying to remember why they were bothering in the first place. Eventually even the most athletic and durable of rioters were forced to stop and try to recover, in doing so allowing their minds to regain themselves.
Diana this whole time had kept one eye on the road in front of her and one on the crowd behind her. Once she was certain the danger had passed, she quickly doubled back, slowing to a gradual stop in front of Vanessa and Etta, both doubled over in pure fatigue.
“Are you two all right?” Diana asked, waiting for the two to catch their breath.
Vanessa looked up to see the setting sun reflect off of Diana’s armor as the imposing Amazon as she had literally appeared on a white horse in shining armor. “Is that Silver?” she asked, suddenly recognizing the horse.
As she dismounted, the horse who lowered its head in some sort of reverence to Diana. Or perhaps the horse was just tired. “She has served me quite well. You are lucky to have such a noble and trustworthy steed.”
“What... What just happened?” Etta slowly regained her senses.
“Oh my god! Etta, you’re bleeding!” As soon as Vanessa saw the cut on Etta's face she raced to her side. “What happened? Did someone do this to you?”
The moments just before blacking out came back to Etta's memory. “Yeah, you did! What the hell, Ness?”
“I did? But...” Vanessa started to say in a tearful shock before Diana interrupted her.
“It was not your fault. The Golden Apples of Discord poison the minds of all who gaze directly upon them. If everything I learned about them is correct, you may still be somewhat affected for some time.”
“Golden Apples of Discord? Like, from Greek mythology?” Etta said in disbelief that the source of their troubles was fruit.
“Good. You know of what I speak,” Diana hurriedly stated as she handed over the sealed purse to the two girls. “That will save me time. Now that you know the dangers, can I trust you not to open this parcel?”
“This purse is a St. Cloud designer,” Etta gaped at the absurdly expensive designer handbag.
“I grabbed the first thing I could find. Can I trust you not to open it?” Diana repeated with urgency.
Vanessa nodded. “After what happened last time, no problem. But where are you going?”
“I’ve found two of the apples so far. If my knowledge is correct, there should be one left. More importantly though, the vile witch who likely set these as traps and caused all this is possibly still in the area. I must find them, and to bring these with me could be dangerous. I would much rather that they were taken as far away and as quickly as possible.”
“Seriously, what the hell is going on?” Etta snapped, no longer in a painful haze.
“If I can I will explain all I am able to later. For now though, every second counts,” Diana said with authority before turning to the horse. “You know the way back to the ranch, yes? You will see these girls home safely?”
The horse shook its head, ruffling its mane and neighing in response. Any questions Vanessa and Etta had were struck down as they stared with dropped jaws. “Yes, both of them. Please,” the horse padded at the ground twice and snorted. Diana smiled. “Thank you. I am in your debt. I must be off now. Be careful.”
Diana dashed off further into the city to continue the hunt, leaving Vanessa and Etta holding a bag that apparently contained mythological fruit and a horse that seemed to be growing impatient. Etta sighed in acceptance. “I told you that horse hates me.”
===WW===
Diana ran through the city streets, unfamiliar though they might be. She could only hope that her target was still on the streets somewhere. Every moment that passed made it that much less of a possibility. The riots had mostly subsided. Though many people still wandered the streets in a disorienting haze of depression, they would eventually regain themselves, though they would probably not remember the day's events.
This hunt could have been completely futile. Circe or whichever of the others who caused this could have been long gone, but Diana's instinct told her to press the hunt. Two of the three apples were counted for. It would be unlikely that the third would have been held back.
In the sea of innocent victims, staggering and droning in their now harmless, albeit almost vegetative state, Diana saw someone run.
Without the time to consider whether or not it was a valid clue, Diana gave chase. All she saw in the crowd was the vague outline of a woman and flashes of black leather.
Diana confirmed the woman could not have just been one of the victims as she still had all her energy and ran at full speed. She was still no match for an Amazon, but just as Diana started to close in, the figure retreated down a staircase in the middle of the street. Diana leaped down after her just in time to see the figure turn another corner.
Continuing down another staircase, Diana found herself on an underground platform along with a crowd of civilians, having been far enough away from the chaos of the riots and sheltered underground from the influence of the apples. A disturbingly loud horn blared suddenly at Diana, making her wince in her heightened state of awareness. A bright light from a nearby tunnel preceded the arrival of a large machine, and suddenly she recognized this place as a subway: a convention of the outside world briefly described to her in one of her earlier lessons.
Her garb and her reaction drew the gaze of most of the otherwise oblivious commuters, especially that of the men. But even among the many faces of the crowd, on the other end of the platform, that vile smirk on the murderer's face.
What was the name her mother used? Obviously not Circe.
“BARONESS!” Diana challenged, “This time I will not let you escape!”