(A/N): Here we are with our Tuesday update! InDeepDarkWood is back again, this time with none other than Wonder Woman.

Thank you to all of our writers who reviewed this last chapter and previous ones. As the story continues, we love to see the things that resonate, and of course, in a collaboration like this, your support means the world!


Chapter Fifty-Four - Mortal Coil

Morning Two

Diana Prince of District Four

Written by InDeepDarkWood


"In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility." – Eleanor Roosevelt

"You play the hand you're dealt. I think the game's worthwhile." – Christopher Reeve


Day One of the rest of Diana's life could have gone a lot better. It could also, however, have gone a lot worse; a point she told herself every time she forgot to be busy and saw Cisco Ramon's dying gasp. Lambs, Diana, she told herself firmly, swatting absentmindedly at the incessant, high-pitched buzzing that swarmed around her ear. The mosquitoes buzzed around other areas of exposed skin, like her wrists and — occasionally — ankles, but it was the hovering next to her ear, a potential entry point into her body, that made her skin crawl and twitch away from the bugs.

Cisco had been just a little lamb in a pack of wolves, and there was no place for him in an arena like this. Unless he'd planned on undergoing a full personality change upon entry to the Games, there had always been little hope for him. Still, Diana had hoped he would reconsider her offer and join her alliance when the bloodbath started and the shouts filled the air. Should she have been more forceful in getting him under her wing? Could she have prevented it?

"Diana, you foolish girl, there is no time to dwell on the past," she said quietly. "We can only look forward, never backward. Inside, but never behind."

The burden of leadership had settled comfortably on Diana's back, and appeared to be there to stay for the foreseeable future. She glanced over at where her alliance lay sleeping, the dawn light watery in the swamplands created or stolen by the Gamemakers. She had picked them for traits she had seen within them and had asked others based on those reasons as well. John had been the most surprised when she'd made the offer to him. Odin had been less than thrilled at her selection, but Odin was blinded by tragedy and a soldier's eye. Once, she knew, he had been worthy of the name All-Father. Now, she was not so sure.

I will protect them, she thought, standing up and beginning a short circuit around the perimeter of the camp they had set up. It wasn't too far from where the bloodbath had ended, and as Diana walked, her feet sinking heavily into the water despite her best efforts, she heard the occasional distant hum of the tracker jackers, guarding their prizes with jealous zeal. They were too close in her mind, but Clark had been a dead weight to drag away from the action after he had been stung at least a dozen times and lost all sense of reality, and she knew he wouldn't be up for moving until a night's rest.

The gods had smiled on them during the night, and they had been left alone by both man and beast, but Diana knew that couldn't last forever. Her pack did not have the strength of previous years to just sit in the same spot for a few days and claim a section of the arena as their own; to begin with, they were fewer than previous years, and they lacked the brute strength required to defend a region.

"But we don't need to keep still, Diana," she said. "The waters are always flowing, and so should we. There are times for standing in one space, but this is not one of those times, of that I am sure."

She wished her mother was beside her, to help her with the decisions she was making. Hippolyta was steadfast and sure, and Diana had always been able to speak with her should doubt arise. Now, she was alone, in unfamiliar territory, where her decision-making not only held her life in balance, but the lives of her allies. It was rather… overwhelming. And yet, she had offered her hand to the three sleeping camp-mates, with the unspoken assurance that she would be able to lead. Discussing her doubts with her alliance would break that tentative link.

So Diana spoke with herself, and voiced her reasonings aloud, and privately hoped that the cameras continued to portray her with honor and bravery, as opposed to turning her into a mewling kitten just waiting for some knight in shining armor to save her. Like Clark, she thought with a half-smile of amusement, thinking of the now-coherent tribute. Or Kaldur. That thought got a chuckle out of her. She had done well to pull herself away from that image after the first few minutes of the bloodbath, but she feared the damage was already done, and her family's name had been tarnished.

She learned strategy from Antiope; how had she found the riddle so difficult?


Breathe, Diana, she thought to herself, as the tube closed off her stylist from view, and an unmistakable sound of elevator whirring began. Think. She was already feeling her clothing, running through what Karolina Dean had observed about it. Dampness. Heat. Requiring protection. All good points, all helpful in figuring out what the arena was before the sixty-second countdown. She could deal with dampness and heat. Whatever she needed protecting from, she would be aided by a sword or a shield to ward off opponents. Diana had been training for this or, at least, something akin to this for many years.

The whirring noise stopped, and she waited for the view of the arena, to think of her strategies and find her allies. None appeared in the darkness, except for the dim pulsing of a light, growing in strength until it was fully apparent that a green question mark glowed in front of her. "Curse the Gamemakers," she muttered under her breath, clenching her hands into fists.

Then, the words began, and Diana had fifty seconds of varying facial microexpressions, from a furrowed brow to a mildly skewed glance to the left to a single drop of sweat forming along her nose as Diana, heir to Four and the candidate to bring honor to the family name of Prince, had no concept as to the riddle's answer.

Her heart dropped as the tube spilled away, and the loud countdown which began at ten — was almost overwhelmed by the droning noise similar to an old SWORD helicarrier. Diana froze at the site, catching a quick glimpse of where the weapons were, and where a gleaming lasso lay coiled around a tracker jacker nest, and then the claxon rang out.

She was last to leave her podium.


She hadn't been prepared for the jackers initially, but she remembered last year's Games, and the calls from the band of tributes to get to the water. Diana had hunkered low in the water, sloshing through areas keen eyes had picked out as deep water. She had gotten her weapons, and she had gotten her allies out safely, or as safely as could be managed with hallucinations. So maybe there is hope, she thought, pushing the thoughts of Cisco out of her mind. Her fists clenched automatically, though. "He did not die a warrior's death. There was no honor." The kill had solidified the knowledge that Harvey Dent was a psychopath.

She would take him down, and it would be a mercy killing, like spearing a rabid dog.

Diana paused at a sound of sloshing water, uncurling her hands slowly, one foot half out of the cesspool that was trying to pass itself off as an arena. The sloshing faded away briefly and then sounded again. It reminded her of the fishermen of Odin's, when they were trying to move large catches, like sturgeon or the occasional whale. Slow. Cumbersome. A literal dead weight, struggling to get out of the water.

The mystery being sloshed water again. The sound had barely travelled an inch. Diana sent a look back toward her camp once more, and decision-making again settled on her shoulders, alone. "It may be nothing," she muttered. "Or it may be a trap." She cast her mind back into the reruns of the Games she had watched with Otto on the train, and in the Capitol, searching for a similar event that had occurred, and what they had done, and how it had worked out for that tribute.

Last year, James Howlett had found Kurt Wagner.

Three years ago, Bobbi Morse had led tributes to their deaths.

What would Odin tell her to do in this situation, and would she heed his words? The eternal question, she thought dryly, keeping her ears sharp and honed in on the sloshing. I wonder: does he know the answer to that? She knew what she wanted to do, though. Back in the district, Diana had been left alone to work some things out herself, from climbing a tree, to figuring out how to set up a tent.

"This is just setting up a tent, Diana," she whispered. If she could convince herself that life did not hang in the balance, then she wouldn't have need for her mother's advice, because she would be able to do it herself.

"You have set up many tents like this," she continued, slowing her breathing deliberately to still the racing heart she had inside her. She stepped toward the sloshing, each footstep careful in the dawn light to minimize the splashing effect of the water. She was glad she didn't have to worry about the positioning of her shadow, since all other directions toward the noise held open views and no coverage.

Her hand on her sword hilt, she crept towards the noise, preparing for a foe to engage in combat. Antiope's words of training flew through her mind, going through different techniques that were slightly more sophisticated than 'stick them with the pointy end' advice.

Hippolyta was honorable when she went to fight, announcing herself to her opponent. She said it gave them a fair chance, and justice was sweeter when a fair deal had been struck. Diana wanted to be like her mother, to have her courage and wisdom, and to be honorable. Strategy told her otherwise, and a small voice in her head reminded her that Hippolyta had lost some fights where the outcome may have been different had she listened to logic over honor.

She adjusted her grip on the sword and, with one fluid motion, drew the weapon and pounced, her sword swinging towards the origin of the sloshing.

Her breath came out in a loud whoosh as the sword came to an abrupt halt half a foot away from Kaldur Ahm's neck.

"You foolish man," she choked out, her eyes wide as she took her district partner in.


Diana sat on the end chair in the kitchen of Four's floor in silence, trying to focus all of her attention on the stuffed snails that took pride of place on the plate directly in front of her. There was an inner struggle going on inside of her, whether to eat the delicacy of the Capitol or to force courtesy out and ask for the meat resting on the plate beside Kaldur. She lifted her gaze in her district partner's direction and felt the sting of his blade against her shoulder. Her back stiffened slightly, and she reached over to pick up one of the snails and put it on her plate.

"Great idea, Diana; it's always good to try new things," Cobb said enthusiastically. "I'll request the milk-infused thrush for tomorrow evening. It's easy on the stomach if you're feeling some butterflies." Diana lifted an eyebrow toward their escort.

"I do not feel butterflies, William," she returned. "There is no room for a sick stomach when heading to wage battle."

"It is why she finds it so easy to butcher those she allies with," Kaldur said, the words like needles. Her gaze flew towards him, a thunderous look within her eyes. Kaldur met the look with a stoic and calm expression; she was the storm, he was the eye.

"That is not true," she insisted, through gritted teeth. "I can help them be stronger, and fight, and be capable of protecting themselves, Kaldur."

"Until you cut their throats while they sleep in your camp," he countered. "You will be no better than Sarkisson."

"I will do what is necessary," she growled. "But I will not do it with such dishonor."

Kaldur scraped back his chair and stood tall, looking down on her. She resisted the urge to stand up; she could match his gaze while seated. She was not a quailing woman. "You are so blind," he said, in his soft, booming voice. "I cannot make you see your wrongs. You are too stubborn for your own good, Prince."

Diana watched him walk to the elevator and disappear from the floor. Silence descended over the table once more, along with the barely palatable taste of unease.

Cobb finished his snails without any more attempts to lighten the atmosphere and made his goodbyes. Karolina and Kaldur's stylists had long since left for a night of revelry in the Capitol.

After a moment, Otto cleared his throat and stood, sharing a look with the other victor as Diana fixed a stony expression toward him. "I can work with this," he finally stated, his hand moving across an imaginary headline. "Vivacious warrior princess of Four shows leadership qualities by standing up against injustice, even in her own district." He dusted off his suit and headed toward the elevator, letting out a small sigh. "I'll just make sure to remember not to say that to the ones we want for Kaldur." He left, muttering something about not drinking too much, and Odin and Diana sat alone, across from each other.

"You and Kaldur are acting like a pair of squabbling infants, Diana," Odin said, his voice carrying easily across the table. Diana said nothing, crossing her arms instinctively and then forcing them to stay by her sides. I will not stoop to such childish defenses, she thought. "There is truth in Kaldur's words; you are just too blind to see it. That is not what makes a leader." Her fists clenched despite her best efforts, and she took a deep breath, controlling her bubbling anger.

"That is not what makes a character people can be inspired by," he added, fixing her with a hard glare with his one eye. "You will lose your power, Diana, if you do not open yourself to seeing what others do."

"I have opened myself," she responded, her fist connecting with the table in a gentler manner than she really wanted.

"You have not opened yourself to your greatest asset, your district partner." Odin's gaze intensified.

"I have looked at allies that are capable, and smart, and have abilities outside of brute strength. I have not been blinded by you and your choices, as Brunhilde was last year." She paused, leaning back on the chair, matching his gaze. "Do you wonder: if she had led the pack last year, if one of your own might have won? Or did you just think that the pack needed a male to lead it successfully?"

"Kaldur is correct," he breathed out, his expression flickering to a hint of sadness for just a moment. "You are stubborn. I fear if you are not careful, that stubbornness will consume your honor and integrity, as Loki was consumed by his resentment." Odin reached over to the plate of meat at Kaldur's empty seat and brought it to his side. "Do not be so far in your mother's shadow that you cannot see the light of my words."

"I do not need your words, Borsson," she growled as he gnawed on a sliver of beef. "And I do not need Kaldur Ahm."

"Then you will lose, and the Princes will feel the same pain of loss as I did."


Diana's sword hadn't moved from Kaldur's neck, her face close enough to her district partner that she could feel his hot breath against her cheek, even though his chest moved in and out in a shallow manner. He gave an occasional jerk in the water, and the mystery of the sloshing was solved. She wasn't sure if the movement was intentional or a result of what had happened to him; her gaze blinked away from his face and across his body, a low anger boiling up underneath her skin.

One of his legs was held stiffly, like it was no longer a part of his body, but it was the torn and burned bits of his clothes that drew her attention, and the skin that lay beneath. Kaldur was a mixture of raw, oozing burns, with areas of dying tissue already blacker than his normal coloring. Debride to heal, she thought, flickering her gaze back up to Kaldur's face. It was etched with thinly-disguised pain, and he looked as though he'd aged a decade in the day she'd left him, but his eyes still burned with a fire.

"You're burned," she whispered, unwilling to draw unwanted attention by speaking loudly. Part of her thought he could be a trap for her, set by some other tributes.

"I am aware," he answered, his voice gritty from lack of use.

"Can you feel your legs?" she asked, reaching with one hand to touch the awkwardly-placed leg.

"Tingles," he said. The words seemed to pain him, but he still raised an eyebrow with effort and added, "Can you take your sword away?" Diana glanced down, where one hand still held the sword over his neck, and she blinked a few times, taking in the sight, aware that Kaldur was saying her name as she moved her hand from his skin and returned it to the sword.

Kaldur met her gaze. Diana watched a blood vessel in his temple pulse.

"Are you going to kill me, Diana?" he asked quietly, as she made no move to lift the sword from its position.

This is how Elektra felt, she thought, her breathing steady. She half-expected her hands to shake, but they remained even, hovering with the heavy weapon inches from the diver. Kaldur was injured, and would likely slow her group down significantly. He would not be an ideal candidate to pit against an opponent, human or otherwise. His wounds could fester and poison him from the inside out, and he could die a slow death as opposed to a swift swing of her sword.

"I am debating it," Diana answered honestly.

There was no trace of fear in Kaldur's expression as he took her words in. "You always said you would do what is necessary," he said, his words catching a little with pain. "The drowned gods come for us all one day. This is my day."

She adjusted her grip on the sword, expecting him to close his eyes and lean back and accept his fate, that fortune was not on his side, and his luck had run out. But Kaldur's eyes remained open, watching her with the same calm and strong expression they always had.

His wounds could fester and poison him, but there was a chance that they could be healed. She had watched the boy from last year heal Stark's chest, and they hadn't even been district partners.

Odin's words echoed in her head, and with them, the memory of sparring with the diver.

Kaldur was Four, and that meant something to Diana.

"Aye, I will do what is necessary, Kaldur," she finally replied, swinging her sword up and away from his exposed neck, sheathing it at her side. "You are not dying today, by my hand or by another's." She bent down next to him, sliding her hands under his back and knees, and braced her heels like she had been taught. She took a quick breath and heaved, lifting the large tribute out of the water, hearing him groan in tandem with her grunt of effort.

She wasn't sure if she'd have the strength to lift him completely, so she simply straightened him up so he had one leg on the ground and was leaning heavily against her. She could smell the burned flesh and metallic blood of the raw skin.

"For a moment, I thought you were going to carry me," Kaldur heaved out, the effort of standing taking its toll already. Diana gave a small, almost-forced snort as she hooked his arm around her shoulder and shot him a look.

"A fine day that would be. What I would give to see Arthur's face at one of his divers in the arms of a Prince." She let out a small chuckle, the sound echoed in a pained way by her partner, and began to hobble back to camp.

"I am becoming the one thing I swore I wouldn't do here," Kaldur continued, as her campmates came into view. She could see John was already starting to stir, the morning light beaming through the moss that clung to the trees.

"An ally?" she asked, gesturing toward the camp.

"A hypocrite," he corrected, then fell silent, concentrating on moving his feet with Diana's aid.

Their arrival at camp was far noisier than her departure, and it was only a few moments before there was a flurry of movement, Kara leaping off the sleeping roll Diana had given her and reaching for the short sword. Clark, for all his jacker stings, still managed a quick response, snatching up the shield to act as defense. Both shielded their eyes from the sun's glare to assess the intruders.

"Calm, it is me," Diana called, huffing a breath under the weight of Kaldur. Kara, wisely, kept the sword up in position despite the words, until the pair came into clear view, and it became obvious it wasn't an illusion or a trick.

"Is that Kaldur?" Clark asked, with a hint of disbelief.

"I thought you said he wasn't joining our… oh." John's words trailed off as the trio took in the state her district partner was in.

"Kaldur has been injured," Diana announced in the silence that followed, half-carrying Kaldur to a comfortable area of soft ground and setting him down as gently as she could; the diver still groaned as the clothes rubbed against his open burns.

"Yeah, I can see that," John eventually replied. "What did you do to him?" Diana caught a slight trace of fear in the words. "Did you do this to him?"

"What happened?" Kara asked at the same time, moving toward them and dropping her sword, picking up the supplies she had treated Clark with the previous day. Her cousin followed suit, bending down beside Kaldur and peeling back some of the fabric, letting out a low whistle at the state of his skin on his chest.

"Doesn't look like a fire burn, Diana," he noted, then leaned right up to Kaldur's chest, his ear nearly touching the waterproof material. "Not all of it, anyway."

"What are you doing?" she asked, a small wave of protectiveness rushing over her on her partner's behalf.

"This is more electrical than fire, which makes sense, because there ain't no way fires are going to start out here," Clark explained, lifting his head, seemingly satisfied. "Folks that get electrocuted tend to have all sorts of lung problems, which we would never be able to sort out here."

"And?"

"And right now, his lungs are looking clear, so that's something in his favor."

"There isn't much else in his favor, though," John said quietly from a few feet away. Clark kept his expression reasonably blank at the words. Diana waved him away.

"Go, make some breakfast and eat. Kara knows much about lighting fires in damp spaces," she stated, shooting the younger girl a small smile and taking the first aid supplies off her. "I will take care of Kaldur." Seeing the other girl hesitate, Diana waved again. "Don't worry; I know a thing or two about aid." Kara hesitated once more, dancing on her feet, before nodding and heading over to the two boys.

Diana started to rip at Kaldur's clothes in the areas that rubbed against the burns. Her breath caught a little as she realized the extent the injuries went; although there were many superficial burns, more than a couple of places had deep, gaping areas of burns and a few worrying lacerations.

"Make sure he doesn't get cold," Clark called over helpfully, like he couldn't help himself.

"Your allies think you are making a mistake," Kaldur observed, barely showing a flicker of pain as she began to work on his wounds. It didn't seem like she was causing him any more pain than he was already in.

"I'm not," she said firmly.

"Suit yourself," he acquiesced, letting her clean his wounds, growing panic inside her as she saw the full extent of his injuries. The only other sound aside from her cleaning was the low creak of trees from beside them, as Kara scaled part way up to tear down the drier branches from on high, the ones baked by the oppressive sun far away from the groundwater.

"I miss the sea," he said after a long while. Diana paused her cleaning, which she didn't think was helping anyway.

"I miss it too," she said after a long moment.

"The sea always has a breeze," he added. Diana shot him a look, and then pursed her lips together, and lifted the waterproof overtop, shaking it roughly to generate a small hint of wind. Kaldur took a deep breath — most likely causing him pain — and closed his eyes.

She stood up after a few moments and headed over to her allies. Kara, as predicted, had managed to create a small fire, despite Clark's assumptions, and they were cooking small slivers of meat over it. Diana, despite her mind wandering toward her district partner, gave a satisfied nod of approval at the other girl's use of kindling. The hanging moss crackled and curled in the fire but gave little smoke to alert other tributes.

"How's Kaldur?" Kara asked immediately, concern on her face.

"He'll live," Diana replied, sitting down next to John. She shook her head as he offered her some of the meat, staring at the fire.

"Will he, though?" John asked softly, his words not unkind. Diana ignored the question for the time being, breaking her gaze off the fire and resting it on each of her allies in turn.


"Mother," Diana managed to get the word out before Hippolyta closed the gap between them and wrapped her in a firm hug. They stood there together, alone in their pain and thoughts of what was to come. It was a long while before they broke apart, Hippolyta's hands resting on her daughter's shoulders, the physical burden of responsibility. Diana felt it through all of her bones.

"I don't know what to do without your guidance," she said, meeting her mother's gaze, searching for answers.

"You will become the woman you were always meant to be, my daughter," Hippolyta replied, resting her forehead against Diana's. "You are a warrior, and you are a leader. You do not deserve this, and the Capitol does not deserve you; take care. Thanos does not like other leaders."

"I'm not ready to be a leader, Mother," Diana said, her mother's hands weighing heavily on her. "I still have so much to learn before I am ready."

"All you need to know to be a leader is how to make a choice, and stick with it, no matter how others view you for it. Then you will be true to yourself, and you will be who you truly are." Hippolyta cupped Diana's face in her hands, giving her a small smile. "Odin may advise you otherwise. The Capitol may advise you otherwise, but just listen to your heart, Diana. You cannot falter then, whatever choices you make in the arena."

She kissed Diana's hair.

"You will have to make a choice between living or dying, and who lives or dies. Do it with honor. Make your family proud."


"The real question is: what say the three of you to this situation?" Diana said. "You were brought into this group with the belief he would not be joining us. You are free to leave at any time if you don't like my decision to take him in, but I will not send him on his way to be prey to Jack's pack."

"I would never expect you to do that." Clark was first to reply. "You're a noble person; you'd never rob someone of their life so harshly."

"Neither would I," Kara said rapidly after. "We stick together. Life bonds us all; blood and friendship." The two cousins exchanged brief looks with each other, almost surprised at the fervor of each other's words.

"John?" Diana asked. "What say you?"

The miner was quiet, chewing thoughtfully on the breakfast, his expression seemingly calm and willing, but she was all too aware how good an illusion he could create. "I'll follow you wherever you lead us, Diana," he said eventually. "Whatever road you're on, I'm with you."


24. Garfield Logan, District Ten Male: Killed by Jack Hamill

23. Francisco Ramon, District Three Male: Killed by Harvey Dent

22. Slade Wilson, District One Male: Killed by Jonathan Crane