The British Expeditionary Force's uniforms contrasted sharply with the lush forests they trekked through. Diana had finally caught up to them as they slowly marched toward the advancing German front line. And not a moment too soon.
Reports had placed the German army in Belgium the last she had heard. Soon they would be at the French border prepared for an invasion on a scale surpassing even that of the last war.
It had been over 4 years since Diana left her friends in Britain, or at least those that were left, to travel to Germany. Originally, she had planned on simply taking a short trip to find out what she could on its leadership and tumultuous political climate. Things simply got worse as time went on and she wound up staying there.
Since then, the Führer had begun setting the country on the warpath. Unfortunately, with its people supporting the war completely, the outside world remained oblivious. As he slowly militarized the country he promised to protect and bring out of depression, poor leadership in neighboring countries and the willing ignorance of those capable of stopping him left his power unchecked.
Now, her original fears we're coming to fruition.
Poland had been the first to fall. Following the supposed invasion of Germany by a Polish border office (which, by the way, she didn't believe happened), war had begun, and it struck hard. Countries fell in a matter of days. Regimes either joined him or faced certain ruin. Less than half a year after the first bullets flew, Hitler's war machine had reached its first major goal.
Diana had stayed in Germany until less than two weeks ago, when she happened upon plans of attack on Belgium and Holland. A trap was being laid out by the Germans. From where she stayed in Berlin, she would not be able to do anything.
And now she had finally found her way, after a grueling journey by foot, to the greatest hope of the Allied Forces: the combined French military and the British Expeditionary Force. It was the largest organized force opposing the Nazis, and she believed, the only chance western Europe would have of ending a brutal war before it began.
It's not enough.
Diana watched as the troops passed below her perch in the trees. She continued to count as men walked by, toting sub-par weapons, and way too much enthusiasm for their situation. Hundreds of thousands of men marched towards the Dyle river, prepared to defend France from the oncoming German threat. A gathering of people larger than most would see in their whole lifetime.
The army still paled in comparison to their enemies numbers, however.
After an hours of sitting in a tree counting rows, she could finally see the end of the trail of marchers. Only four hundred thousand men were meant to go up against a killing machine comprised of nearly a million of the most disciplined fighters Diana had seen.
No enemy was more dangerous than one with a cause, and every single fighter in Hitler's army believed in the reasons for which they slaughtered. It was for their homeland, their families, revenge.
It will be a bloodbath, Diana thought as she watched the final row pass beneath her. They'll be crushed. If that happened, then soon all of Europe would fall under the control of the Nazis.
Diana had none of the hope filled naivety that these men still carried off with them to war. She knew the stakes of the coming battle. If they were to win, the German advance would likely be stopped once and for all. If not, the Germans would steamroll their way west with little to no resistance.
And yet, Diana was at an impasse. She had taken a vow at the end of the last war to only involve herself in the battles of men if the fighting threatened to destroy mankind. It would take a war on the scale of the First World War to be important enough to warrant her interference. Otherwise, war was just too painful, too dangerous, for her to take part in their issues.
Killing was something that scarred her each and every time she did so. Each fatal blow felt like a blow to her own heart, marring her very soul. Her experiences with war were few, but each memory of battle reminded her of the people she had lost, her naive mistakes during her fledgling years in man's world, and the pain of losing the one place she had considered home.
How many people had she killed in the last war? How many couples torn apart by death? Families ended before they could begin.
Those thoughts plagued her nightmares as often as the scene of a plane exploding midair as she was helpless to stop it. Her rage as she tore through scores of men.
She was a god, the ruler of love and war. Her life was a paradox, killable yet immortal, desired yet unloved. Yet even with all of the experience and power that came with such a title, taking lives never became less traumatic.
The trauma continued long after the battles were over as well. Losing those she loved slowly as the years passed affected her just as much. Each new loss opened a new, deeper wound than the last on her mind. She feared that eventually there would be one wound too painful to bear and her fragile sanity would be lost.
If she allowed such a thing, she feared she could do more damage to mankind than they themselves ever could. And so, she did her best to avoid such situations.
And so, she tried to put that part of her to the back of her mind. She may rule war, but love was far more powerful and prominent within her life. It had to be.
Her world revolved around it. Love was a centerpoint for her, keeping her grounded to reality and everyday happenings in the world.
Life was hardly peaceful. Little battles occurred every day: haggling over bread prices, fighting to stay out of bankruptcy, and many other such problems pervaded its existence. Those little battles alone stretched Diana's will to the brink, fighting to stay sane in a world she did not belong in.
Love, made it possible for her to stay, however. It counterbalanced the hate of men and provided her with a haven. She no longer had a true home, but she had had people that felt like it.
Slowly, though others aged. Men who smoked died of tar in their lungs. Infections caused minor scrapes to turn deadly. The crippled often retreated into seclusion. Some simply gave up.
Diana knew the pain of loss. Of the original 4 people that went to stop Ares with her, only one remained. Chief returned to America not long after the Great War, and had since kept in touch with her. The others had slowly been picked off, one by one. She was practically alone now and those people who were home were gone.
If she entered the fray, she had little doubt that what sanity she had left would be destroyed during the fighting. It would be the safest option for her and others to simply walk away before the fighting started, maybe warn the officers of the advancing Panzer divisions through the Ardennes. It was a coward's way out, but did she really have a choice in the matter?
On the other hand, could she survive the guilt of leaving these men to their fates? Diana did not know if she would be able to survive that either. The thought of knowingly allowing good men to die needlessly churned her stomach and brought such guilt to mind that she hated herself for even considering it.
All lives were valuable to her. Even the worst of Hitler's officers deserved a chance to live. Not all men were bad at heart and not all were good.
Military men served knowing they would kill and therefore lived their lives tainted. To have bloodlust was a must, self preserving instincts were necessary, and greed was a prerequisite. But that was usually trained. It was not in the nature of most men to commit atrocities for their country.
Diana knew she would, if she chose to interfere in the coming battle, have to choose a side. Even though it tore her apart inside, she knew the choice would be simple. She knew first-hand that Hitler was the aggressor, the bully, the villain. He was practically a mortal version of Ares himself. She had no choice but to choose against his side.
If.
Would it be worth it to sacrifice herself, her sanity, her values, her love, in order to save the lives of those below her.
They did not know her. They did not know she was here. She could easily slink away and do nothing. Chances were, that at this point, the war was already lost. The Nazis were well-prepared, well-supported, and convinced of the righteousness of their beliefs. Currently they were an unstoppable force, and the rest of the world would not be the immovable object they needed to be when everything came to blows.
By the time, the last of the boots disappeared around the bend in the road and the dust had settled, Diana was no closer to making a decision.
She had been dedicated to peace and love for so long… Could she forsake it for war?
War was the darkest part of her. It awakened a primal animal within her that she rarely acknowledged. It was always there, dormant, waiting. And that scared her.
She had only unleashed it once for the purposes of war, losing all coherent thought other than to avenge. The results left her distraught. Havoc surrounded her, she'd murdered her own brother in cold blood (whether or not he deserved it didn't matter), and people looked at her as some kind of monster. Even once she had let go of the power and returned to her normal self, she hadn't felt the same.
Embracing the power that one time had left it open to influence her. In every choice she made, every problem she faced, even during those peaceful moments right before sleep it was always whispering to her.
For years she combatted that part of herself and it tore her apart inside. To unleash it again was one of her greatest fears. What would it do, both to her and others?
What if this is the only choice I have? The thought entered Diana's head abruptly and shook her to her core.
Could she really run if she so wished? Yes, she easily could. But eventually the war would catch up to her. No matter how far you ran, things like that always found you. She could prolong it as long as she wanted. Eventually the whole world would fall if nothing was done. She knew that better than anyone.
Even Themyscira.
That last revelation called into question her commitment to not getting involved. If her homeland was destroyed, no one would survive the aftermath. Not even her.
Still, could she really make the choice to allow that other part of herself free? In that state, she didn't discriminate between uniforms so much as what was a perceived threat. After Antiope's death on the beaches of her home, that category had expanded to include anyone wielding a gun, making her a danger to everyone if unleashed in the middle of a battle.
There had to be another way. She couldn't afford to risk such a thing when there was a possibility of using alternatives. But what else could she do?
Time was of the essence. She only had until the next morning to think of something.
A/N: I've wanted to start something for a while, but have been trouble creating a coherent plot that fit within the constraints of even a barely plausible reality. In the end, I wound up with something like this.
Piece of forewarning: certain dates may not match up in your head. Deal with it. There is a reasoning behind everything in this story.
If you enjoyed and want to see more, you can do multiple things to show me and keep me writing faster! It's simple. All you have to do is follow, fav, and review at the bottom of the page. Just scroll that extra inch or two to find it. (Criticism is welcomed.)
I'll see you all in the next chapter. Until then, au revoir.
-TheMisprint