Diana

"I swear," Hallie fumed, "if I see one more reporter . . ." she trailed off, perhaps trying to think of a fate suitable for the relentless 'journalists' all around the office building. I could sympathize, having had to endure the same treatment upon entering the building. One particular reporter disguised as a janitor was lying unconscious on his pretend cart, the result of pestering me as I tried to make it up the stairs.

Still, those nuisances aside, my mind was still focused on the changes that had taken place literally overnight. Most of the damage caused by the past day's battle was completely repaired, with workmen coming in every minute to fix or replace anything left. Not that it mattered to me, since I was now up one floor and in a better office. With Jeroh gone, it was up to all of the employees under him, myself and Hallie included, to fill in the vacuum. Which meant promotions. Lots of promotions.

So," I said to Hallie once she had calmed down, "what do you think of your new job?"

She shrugged. "Terrible circumstances to get it under, but I think I'm every bit as qualified as Jeroh was. Not to mention that unlike my predecessor, I come without the Mafia connections." She turned to me, having just finished opening the door to her new office. "And you? It must be nice, not to have to file papers anymore."

"It is," I acknowledged. "But its also kind of intimidating, knowing that soon I'll be negotiating for millions and millions of dollars with professionals all over the world."

Hallie made a dismissive motion with her hand. "You'll be fine, Diana. You seem like the natural . . .ambassadorial type."

I thought back to my days in the Justice League. Most of my 'negotiating' then had been with punches and kicks. Somehow, I didn't think that would prove very effective in my new job.

I glanced back Hallie, who had begun connecting her iPod to her office computer. "Have you heard about the gala next week?" I asked.

"Mmm-hmm." Hallie straightened up, apparently satisfied with the job she'd done. "It's a lot of fun. I went last year and had a blast, though I think I'm going to try something new this year."

"Really?"

"Yep," she said. "I'm going to ask Bruce to go as my date."

"Ah. And you think he'd say yes?"

Hallie shrugged. "Can't hurt to try, and I know he gets tired of bringing those rich and spoiled starlets with single digit IQs. You should have seen him last year, he brought this rich girl . . .Silver something . . .Silver St. Cloud. That's it. Poor Bruce, his date spent the entire night rambling about the wine and making fun of other guests. He looked miserable. I figure if I just go ask him, the worst he can do is say no, in which case I'll just have to go with Joey the Janitor."

I couldn't help but laugh. Joey was a grizzled old man at least thirty years Hallie's senior who probably hadn't worn anything but coveralls since the Kennedy Administration. On a deeper level though, Hallie impressed me. She was clearly enamored of Bruce- that much was obvious. But instead of dancing around the issue like myself, she was going to act on those feelings and let whatever was to happen happen. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

But Hallie had already gotten off the subject, asking questions about which of her paintings should go where. "So what about above the computer?" she was saying. "The children or the landscape?"

I looked at both pictures. The landscape was nice, but nowhere near as eye-catching as the painting of the little boy and girl walking along a seashore. Their backs were to the viewer so the girl's face could not be seen at all, just a mass of unruly black hair. The boy who was holding her hand, however, was turning to look at her, offering a view of his profile. It was how Bruce may have looked as a child, I thought. Same hair, same blue eyes. The little boy was smiling.

I pointed at the picture. "This one. Definitely."


Bruce

Now that the danger from Zacherias had come and passed, all of the work and appointments I normally would have been involved in was catching up to me. Three meetings in four hours, none of which served any purpose save to enhance the billionaire playboy image. Most of the files and records that came my way simply got passed along to Lucius Fox, as well as most of my messages. Except one.

They'd located the site from which the Hyperion launcher was stolen, and even had surveillance footage that implicated one Wayne Enterprises employee, Charles Johnson, as being the one that had smuggled the weapons out. They were in the process of getting a warrant for his arrest.

I mulled over that one. It made no sense whatsoever that a single man had been able to steal a highly dangerous piece of equipment like the Hyperion. Something wasn't right about the entire situation, so I decided to pay the 'thief' a visit..

Casual dress, I thought, selecting a brown sports jacket over a black T-shirt and khaki slacks. It wasn't a formal visit, just curiosity on my part. Of course, if he didn't cooperate, Batman could always pay him a visit in jail. . .

It took me fifteen minutes in the heavy traffic to reach the manufacturing plant, which had several police cars parked in front. I wondered if I would have a chance to talk to the man before the GCPD hauled him off.

"Mr. Wayne," boomed Randy Kohl, the district head of this particular Branch of Wayne Enterprises. "I see you received my message."

"Sure did Randy," I replied, firmly shaking his hand. I looked around the room, which had several video monitors arrayed along the walls. In one of the corners sat a disheveled-looking Hispanic man, perhaps in his early forties. His ID card read Jose Mendez. The two cops on either side of him were asking questions, apparently unsatisfied with the answers they were being given.

"This the guy?" I asked, pointing to Mendez.

"Yup," answered Randy with a sigh. "That's him."

By now, both policeman had noticed my presence and stepped back to address me. "Hello Mr. Wayne," said the taller one, a gray-haired man whose voice bore the raspiness of longtime tobacco use.

I nodded in response. "So, anyone mind bringing me up to speed."

"Not much to say, really," said Kohl. "Surveillance shows this man, Jose Mendez, entering the storage area at around one o'clock in the morning with a tarp-covered cart. Ten minutes later, he comes out wheeling a cart with a Hyperion missile launcher on it."

I turned to Jose. "And what's your side of the story?" I asked him.

He raised his head looking at me. "I do not know exactly what happened that night," he insisted in heavily accented English. "I did not do this though."

"Do you have an alibi?"

He shook his head.

"What do you do here, Mr. Mendez?"

"He works in security," interjected the second officer, running a hand through his shock of red hair. "Look, Mr. Wayne, we asked him all these questions before. Guy says he didn't do it, but also says he can't remember the night in question and can't explain why he's shown on surveillance cameras going into a secured area and taking highly dangerous weapons."

I frowned. "Are there any other security guards?"

"Yep," said Kohl. "Another one, Jimmy Douglas. We found him unconscious the next morning."

"So you're saying a night watchman somehow knocked out his partner, got through the security checkpoint, assembled the Hyperion, and moved it out in ten minutes?"

"It could be done," said Kohl defensively. "We're not sure how he got the knowledge to assemble one, but the cameras don't lie. And that's the other thing. Computer shows his handprint being used to gain access to the area at the exact time the surveillance cameras indicate. Case closed, far as I'm concerned."

Bull, I thought. Too much didn't add up. I could do some research on the night watchman, but the fact that he worked for my company meant his record was clean. I sensed that he was genuinely scared and confused, and I'm a very hard man to deceive. Yet someone with his face, clothing, and most importantly, handprint, had whisked the weapon right out into the street where it wound up in the Joker's hands. If not Mendez, then a shapeshifter? Clayface, perhaps?

"Mr. Wayne?" said the red-haired officer, shaking me from my thoughts. "Given the serious nature of this offense, we'll be taking Mr. Mendez down to the station for further questioning."

I nodded, turning back to Mendez, whose face was now buried in his hands. Unfortunately, there was little I could to help him. For now.

"I'd like a copy of the tape, if you don't mind," I told Kohl.

"What for?"

I smirked. "To watch, of course."


Diana

Five hours of research, and I felt like I had barely skimmed the surface on the topic of Bruce's humanitarian work. There were dozens of foundations, organizations, charities, you name it- each with their own delicate problems that I had to look into. Money was another big issue; specifically, how much of it was being spent on what. I seriously hoped there wasn't another Jeroh out there in one of the company's charitable offshoots, but I had to be sure.

Luckily, I already had the technical training to make all of the higher-level math easier. Operating a computer was a breeze compared to operating the Watchtower's controls or flying the Javelin.

As the thought occurred to me, I felt a dull knot suddenly rise in my throat. I stopped typing, allowing myself a brief moment to reminisce about my days as Wonder Woman. They seemed so far off now, like an extremely realistic dream that you just woke up from.

There was a knock on the door of my new office, then Hallie poked her head in. She surveyed the space before smiling at me.

I smiled in return. "Hi, Hallie."

"Hi yourself, Diana. Do you know what time it is?"

"Of course," I started to say as I glanced down at my watch, "It's. . .whoa."

"Exactly. Day's over hon, you're free to go."

"Oh," I said, rising to my feet. My body ached from being in such a cramped position all day, another change I would have to get used to in the new post-Wonder Woman phase of my life. I flexed and extended my fingers, trying to get them out of the cramped, curled position they were stuck in.

Hallie studied my desk, which was an unfortunate mess of papers and folders. "Did you even eat lunch?" she wondered aloud.

Come to think of it, I hadn't. And now, thanks to the reminder, my body was starting to notice that fact as well, voicing its on opinion with a solid that rumble that caused my boss to break out in laughter.

"Well," she said, "I can't have undernourished employees; it's just not good business. That said, how about we both go down to Gio's?"

"Gio's?"

"Yep. Great food, and it's pretty cheap too." She jerked her head to the side. "Plus it's only a five or so minute walk thataways. C'mon."

I couldn't help smiling as I shrugged on my jacket. "Sure, why not."

As it turned out, the walk was closer to ten minutes, but I hardly even noticed. The air was cool and comforting, and with my jacket it felt lovely. It wasn't dark yet, but the sun had drifted down past the tall buildings of Gotham, leaving behind it a beautiful tapestry of yellows and violets that would eventually fade to night.

"We're here," Hallie announced, stopping in front of a small diner with a sign above that read: GIOVANNI'S in capital letters. Even from outside, I could smell the delicious aroma of authentic Italian food.

We were swiftly seated in a corner booth and given menus by the waitress, who happily informed us that her name was Trish, and that anything we needed, she would take care of promptly.

As she left, I noticed that there was a plasma screen television mounted above the bar, currently playing the news. Unsurprisingly, the day's highlights involved Wayne Enterprises, giving the network yet another chance to display Bruce's likeness on the air. I wasn't complaining though. It was a good picture.

"See anything you like?" Hallie asked.

"Mm-hm."

"Oh, that was fast-" she paused mid-sentence, swiveling around to see what I was looking at. There was a grin forming as she turned around. "I meant something on the menu," she teased.

I quickly swung my attention down to my own menu. "So did I."

"Right," she said, her tone implying the exact opposite. "But that still brings up an interesting topic."

"What? Bruce Wayne?"

"Uh-uh. You and Bruce Wayne."

"What about it? We're old friends."

"From where? How did you meet?"

I was a bit taken aback by the questioning. I couldn't tell the truth, for obvious reasons. Not the whole truth anyway.

"Do you remember the Martian invasion a few years back?"

Hallie chuckled. "Oh yeah."

"It was then. We sort of . . .worked together during the crisis, along with some other individuals."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever we could."

"Ah." Hallie studied me for a moment, wordlessly accepting a glass of water from the waitress. "I'm sorry it seems like I'm interrogating you, but I can't shake the feeling that . . ."

"That what?"

"That you two were more than friends."

Hah. I wish. "Nope, just friends."

"You're sure."

"Very sure."

"So . . .you're not interested in Bruce like that?"

"I am not." Even as I said it, I knew I'd hesitated too long. Hallie, nodded, though she clearly didn't believe me. I wouldn't have believed me either. She didn't look hurt or upset, but I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Yes, you are," she murmured. A simple statement.

So there it was, out in the open. Well, technically, I hadn't admitted anything, but I may as well have. I liked Hallie. And she clearly liked me. But we were rivals as well, which bothered me.

"This menu looks really good," Hallie commented suddenly.

I agreed. "Yes. I think I'll get the spaghetti."

"And I'll probablyhave theravioli."

And with that, nothing more was said on the subject.


Bruce

"What shapeshifters in Gotham can you think of?" I asked Alfred. "Offhand."

"Hmm," pondered Alfred from across the Batcave. "Clayface is the only one that comes immediately to mind. Why?"

"Because whoever he or she is, they impersonated one of my employees and stole some sensitive tech. And it wasn't Clayface. He's still safe in sound in deep freeze cryostasis. I checked."

Alfred gave a helpless shrug. "I'm afraid I'm drawing a bit of a blank, Master Bruce. Keep searching though."

"Thanks, Alfred." I turned back to the Batcave's monitor. Whoever he was, he was good. Flawless impersonation. And the fingerprint thing . . .I wouldn't even have been surprised if the man could duplicate individuals down to their very genetic makeup.

It was an impersonator though. No doubt. He'd assembled and disassembled the Hyperion in half of the maximum time achieved during product testing. It's a heavy weapon with heavy components, and I knew that there was no way the real Jose Mendez could have lifted and manipulated those parts with such ease.

With a few button clicks, I copied the file several times to my own hard drives, and then took the video out. In the absence of absolute proof, there was nothing I could do for poor Jose, except continue my investigation.

But later. At the moment, I was wondering why Diana hadn't come home yet."


Diana

Fortunately, as long as Bruce Wayne wasn't the subject, Hallie and I had no problem carrying on a lively conversation on topics ranging from childhood memories to cars to our favorite television shows.

It was getting late though, and following a rousing discussion of Matthew Perry's acting ability (or lack thereof), we both decided it was time to get going. I realized that I had even forgotten to call Bruce and tell him I would be getting back late.

We both paid our share of the check and quietly exited the diner. The air was crisper, windier. And while it wasn't technically night, the streetlights were on. I pulled my coat tighter to compensate for the wind as I turned to Hallie. "That was fun."

"Yeah, we should definitely do it again sometime." She tossed her scarf over her neck. "If you need a ride, I can certainly drive you home."

"Really? That'd be great," I replied with a smile.

"My car's jut this way."

I followed her across the street, down the sidewalk a ways, and then into a dark alley. Perhaps it was all of my experience in the Justice League, or maybe it was just paranoia after having lost my powers. Either way, I knew something was dreadfully wrong. "Hallie . . ."

"Yeah?"

"I think . . ." I trailed off, coming to a dead halt. "There's someone-"

I didn't get the time to finish. He went after Hallie first, materializing out of the shadows to our left. His features were impossible to make out in the darkness, but the knife he held in his left hand gleamed a deadly silver. Damn!

My reaction was instinctive. Second nature. He was too far away from me to reach with either a punch or a kick before he got his knife to Hallie's throat, at which point I would be at a serious disadvantage. I did, however, have my handbag.

I twisted my torso like a discus thrower, then sprang, lending my own centripetal force to my purse, which I swung savagely at the attacker's head. My aim was dead on, the edge of the purse striking him right in the corner of his left eye and blinding him for a few crucial seconds.

By now, Hallie was screaming. Good, I thought. Hopefully it'll attract some attention.

I almost didn't hear the footsteps behind me until it was too late. Regardless, whatever instinct had alerted me to the first attacker also warned me of his friend. I dropped into a crouch, letting the second man's crowbar sail harmlessly over my head. I lunged back with my right foot, sweeping it around and catching the side of his leg. With a surprised grunt, he fell. Hard.

"Run!" I hissed to Hallie as I scrambled to my feet. She nodded quickly and turned to do just that, but the first attacker caught her by the arm, recovered from whatever damage my purse had done. My reaction was swift and brutal, beginning with a vicious side kick to the elbow. It's a strong bone, but I had a stronger kick and two-inch heels can inflict a lot of damage. The elbow snapped at the joint, bending the arm in a way that nature had certainly never intended. He howled, dropping his knife and clutching his injured arm.

Satisfied that he was incapacitated, I turned back to the first attacker's buddy, who was now rising to his feet. Buddy, as I now thought of him, was a big man. Now that I saw him at his full height, I couldn't help but take a step back. He had to have been at least six feet seven. And he was broad too, barrel-chested with almost no neck and powerful-looking arms. He was a giant.

Once upon a time, I could have flicked him all the way to New Jersey. Now, I wasn't so sure. I clearly hadn't lost any of my skill, but I was also unused to fighting without invulnerability, super strength, and magic bullet-deflecting bracelets. If I tried to punch this guy in the face now, I would end up with a handful of broken fingers. Could I take him?

No time like the present to find out, I decidedI lunged, jumping into the air and delivering a spinning roundhouse to the side of his head. I've never thrown a better-executed kick. It was beautiful, hitting him right in the side of the head. I'd torqued my hips in midair to allow for the maximum amount of impact force possible. It would have broken a normal man's neck.

It barely fazed Buddy. I landed to the side, staring up in disbelief at the man who was still standing before me. He didn't look hurt, just annoyed. I couldn't believe my eyes. No way I could take him, not head on anyway. I would need a strategy soon.

"Hey!" came Hallie's familiar voice. Buddy turned. Right into the path of the nozzle on the can of Mace she now held. She let loose, spraying Buddy point blank with a never-ending stream of the stuff.

Now he was hurting, a fact that I took immediate advantage of. Instead of trying another head strike, I aimed significantly lower with a powerful back kick. Buddy's knees buckled and he doubled over, right into my uppercut, which him caught in the fleshy underside of his chin. He gagged. I hit him again, driving the palm of my hand into the bottom of his nose with as much force I could muster, shattering something that caused a lot of blood to start pouring.

I kept hitting him, alternating between punches and kicks until he was on the ground. Buddy did make a number of clumsy attempts to strike, but those were significantly impaired by the pain he was feeling in his face and groin. When he fell, he fell hard and I knocked him out with one last kick to the temple. I did his friend (still moaning over his broken arm) the same favor.

Wiping my brow, I turned back to Hallie, whose mouth was hanging wide open in disbelief.

"Well," I said, breathing heavily and racking my brain for a plausible explanation to give Hallie. "I'm glad I took those kickboxing classes."

Hallie just stared, which would have gotten rather awkward were it not for the voices I heard. Close voices, so someone had heard the commotion.

It was a young couple, the man holding a penlight that did precious little to illuminate anything but his hand. "Hello," he called out. "Is everything alright?"

"We heard a scream," the woman felt compelled to add.

I nodded, thinking about what was about how much I didn't want any police hassles right then. "Two drunks," I said. "They startled my friend."

"Drunks?" the woman asked dubiously.

"Yep. You might want to call the police though. Shouldn't have people like that just wandering the streets." I turned to Hallie. "Lets go."

Despite my outward calm, my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. When we finally reached Hallie's car, it was hard to keep from just slumping down in the passenger seat and blocking out the rest of the world, now that the adrenaline rush was fading.

"That was amazing," Hallie said at last as we drove away, the serenity of night punctured by the telltale whine of sirens. "I mean, really. That was amazing. It was like . . .right out of Charlie's Angels or something. Where'd you learn to kick ass like that?"

"It was all adrenaline," I said dismissively, eager to change the subject. "Besides, you were the heroine of the day, with that Mace, I mean."

Hallie let out a deep breath as we coasted to a red light. "I've never used it before," she said.

"You've never been mugged?"

Hallie arched a brow. "Of course I've been mugged before- that's why I bought the Mace in the first place." She sighed. "We should have stayed there, given a report to the police."

"You're right," I conceded. "But I'm sick and tired of policemen. I've given enough statements and reports in the past week to last a lifetime."

"But the muggers will just find another victim. You want that on your conscience?"

I thought back to mugger number one, with his shattered forearm. And his friend, who would be needing serious reconstructive surgery after the pummeling I'd given him. "No," I said confidently. "They won't."

Hallie sighed, but didn't argue, opting to simply drive along for a few seconds before turning back to me and asking, "Where do I drop you off again?"

"Wayne Manor."

"Oh." She said nothing for a few moments, then, "I'd heard rumors, but I didn't know you and Bruce were actually living together."

"Its just a temporary arrangement," I said. "From an old friend to an old friend."


Bruce

Ding Dong

"Got it!" I called to Alfred as soon as I heard the doorbell. Tossing aside the paperback I'd been reading, I jumped off the couch and opened the door to reveal Diana, a humorless smile on her mouth.

It was all I could do not to ask, "Where have you been?" like I was her mother or something. Not that it was an unreasonable concern though, especially given the multiple attempts on her life that had had happened recently. "Hi, Diana," I said. "Come in."

She did, and from the way she collapsed on the couch, I guessed she'd had a rough day. I sat down opposite her, taking a sip of coffee. "Bad traffic?" I joked.

She shook her head. "No, I just ate dinner with Hallie, that's all. I'm sorry though, I should have called you."

"Hey, its no problem as long as you're okay."

She nodded, and I reached over to grab the second mug of coffee I'd prepared just for her. "Here, have some," I offered. She thanked me and reached out to take the mug, which was when I noticed her hands.

Her knuckles were raw and red, the skin at the tips torn. All around them, the flesh had started to bruise. Her wince of pain when she opened her hand didn't escape my notice either.

I recognized the injuries. I'd seen them on my own hands plenty of times, especially when I was younger and before the benefit of Batman armor and Kevlar gloves. They were kinds of injuries you got from bareknuckle fighting.

"What happened to your hands?" I asked.

Diana froze in mid-sip, peering at me from behind the coffee mug. Slowly she set it down. She looked at her hands. Front, then back. It was the latter that caused her to gasp.

"What happened?" I repeated. "Those are fighting wounds."

"Me and Hallie were attacked by a couple of muggers," she finally answered, still staring at her bloody knuckles. "We had to fight them off."

"Is Hallie okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine," said Diana. "I am too. I didn't even notice my hands until you pointed it out."

"Well, did you call the police?"

"No, I had someone else do that." She looked up at me. "Bruce, I am . . . really sick and tired of police and statements and questioning. I just didn't want to bother with any of that, especially since neither of us was seriously hurt. And it'll be a while before either of them will be on the streets. I made sure of that."

She spoke matter-of-factly , not a hint of a boast. For a brief moment, I wondered exactly how good her combat skills were, without the powers. I didn't doubt that whoever had been stupid enough to try and mug her was sorely regretting it.

"You should have stayed around to make sure the authorities got statements and information. That kind of thing comes in handy in the courts. It could mean the difference between having those guys safely behind bars for the foreseeable future and having them back on the streets." I paused, allowing her to digest this. "That said, I'm glad you're okay."

Diana cracked a smile. "Now that I think about, fight those men, protecting myself and Hallie . . .it felt good. Familiar, you know? That rush, it was almost like I was Wonder Woman again."

"You miss it," I said simply.

She nodded. "More and more every day. I think . . ." she took a breath before plunging on. "I think you should let me join you."

"On the couch?" I asked lamely, a bit confused.

"On patrol. When you're Batman."

I stared at her. "You-you want to be like, the new Robin or something?"

She frowned. "Not a sidekick. A partner."

"You're not serious. You lost your powers, remember?"

Diana's gaze was unwavering. "I'm dead serious," she said. "And-and you of all people should know that you don't have to have superhuman abilities to protect people, to save lives."

"Touché!" Alfred called out from the kitchen. Amazing, he'd been listening the whole time.

I ignored him. "I've trained over a decade to master unarmed combat," I argued.

"And I trained over a millennia," Diana shot back. 'Or did you think we Amazons sat around all day singing songs and braiding each others' hair?"

"It's not just about how well you can punch and kick," I pointed out. "You need training. You need to know how to disarm bombs, pick locks, collect forensic evidence . . .the list goes on."

"You taught Nightwing. You taught Robin. I doubt that either of them is a faster learner than I am."

"I don't work with anyone."

"You mean anyone you can't control. That's why Nightwing left in the first place, isn't it? Having a sidekick is just fine, but a partner? Noooo."

I stared at her, trying not to be angry. Her words bothered me, especially the bit about Nightwing, which she knew was a sore subject. True or not, it was a low blow, especially for her.

The silence stretched on, until Diana finally broke it, reaching out across the space between us to lightly rest her hands on my shoulders. Our eyes met, and she held my gaze with an unwavering calm. "I'm sorry," she began. "I crossed a line. What I'm trying to say is . . .I think that what you do is incredible. Even more so than others in the superhero business, because you don't come from an alien species or have an amazing power ring. But you don't let that stop you from protecting the city you love. And you do a wonderful job of it."

I arched an eyebrow at the unexpected praise. "You're making me blush," I joked, finding that it was very hard to stay miffed at Diana, no matter what she'd said.

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. But what I'm getting at is that even you can't be there for every murder or kidnapping . . .or mugging. You'd probably need a whole army of Batmen. I'm offering the next best thing. You need a partner, Bruce, and you know I'm qualified. With your training, I could probably be right out there with you in no time. Look at how fast a learner I was with the batarangs."

I didn't say anything. Instead, I looked at her hand, which was still on my shoulder. It felt nice there, like it belonged in a whole different context where we were just sitting down together and enjoying each other's company over a good cup of coffee.

"You're sure this is what you want?" I asked at last.

"For now, yes."

I nodded and stood up, prompting her to follow. She let her hand drop back to her side, looking at me in anticipation. "Follow me," I said

"Where?"

"To the sparring mat in the Cave. You say you spent a thousand years training for combat. I want to see what you've learned."


When General Philippus burst into Hippolyta's chambers, the Queen of Themyiscera knew instantly that something was wrong. Philippus was decorum incarnate- ; the powerful, dark-skinned woman would never breach etiquette in such a way unless absolutely necessary.

It was when Hippolyta sat up that she noticed everything else. Philippus's eye was swollen and bruising. She was limping, her armor was chipped and scratched, and her right arm hung uselessly at her side, broken.

"Great Hera!" gasped Hippolyta, rushing to support the injured woman. "What happened?"

"One of the Separatists attacked me as I was making my rounds."

"What?" Hippolyta shook her head. "No, it can't be. They would have to be fools to break treaty in such a way."

"It was Sades," said Philippus. "I recognized her from Artemis's entourage."

It was all Hippolyta could do to keep breathing. "Where. . .where is Sades now?"

"I don't know."

"Did you kill her?"

Philippus looked down. "She has my sword, I pinned her to a wall with it. Whether the injury was fatal, I do not know. She gave me no choice."

Hippolyta silently mulled over this distressing news. Sades was an expert combatant, probably one of the best on the entire island, save Philippus, now that Artemis was gone. Sades also had a mean streak, one that had been evident even before the brief civil war that had rocked Themyiscera. She wasn't stupid though, and strong as the enmity between herself and Philippus was, she would not have so flagrantly violated the treaty on a whim. What were the Separatists up to?

"My queen!" came a shout from the outer chambers. Seconds later, the messenger girl Mercede burst into Hippolyta's chambers as well. She was breathing heavily, holding a scroll in her hand. "Awful news, my queen," panted Mercede. "We have received a message from Artemis, conveyed by one of her lieutenants. It is a demand that General Philippus be given into their custody to be tried for the murder of Commander Sades. If these demands are not met . . ."

"Go on," encouraged Hippolyta.

Mercede took a deep breath and nodded. "If these demands are not met, Artemis says that she will attack. Any that stand in her way, should this happen, would be afforded no mercy save death."

Philippus turned back to Hippolyta. "They want another war."

Miles off the coast of Themyiscera, Artemis watched the island of her birth. The island he would soon rule completely.

Behind her, Ares, smiled. He leaned over, so that his mouth was just by her right ear. "Well done, Artemis," he whispered, stepping back and vanishing into the air as if he had never been there at all.


Author's note: Just wanted to say thanks to Kasuchi for her invaluable advice and editorial work, and to whoever is reading this for all your patience with my slow updates. Comments, corrections, etc. welcome.