4: Made Weak By Time and Fate

All eyes immediately rose, turning towards the dockyards and the direction of the automatic rifles sounding off. It was enough to make Breèko immediately stop. A whole new frustration was suddenly filling him.

"I thought you said there was no police!"

"There weren't…" one of the armed men quickly whimpered, but there was no arguing with the sounds. Looking back at the docks, he could see very little. That had been the whole point of this mooring. Snuggled into the quayside around the concrete and the warehouses, out of view of the workers and the townsfolk, but with a clear and clean run out to sea. Normally, it gave Breèko exactly what he wanted. In that moment, it was anything but. In that moment, he could hear the yells, the gunfire, the ricochets, the smashes, the screams. But he could see nothing.

Until he could suddenly see something. Until from nowhere he saw first the rifle flying out into the sea, quickly followed by its former wielder. Flung with an apparent inhuman force…

What was happening…?

"You two!" Breèko quickly gestured to the two goons who had brought Hudson there. "Get out there! Clean this up, now!"

Both men hesitated, looking to each other. But as Breèko yelled that last word again even louder, they remembered they were more afraid of him than the unknown. Drawing their weapons, soon they were both disembarking the boat, racing out into the dockyards and out of sight, ready to try and put down the attackers, the cause of the ongoing chaos out there.

But Breèko himself, he could only stand there, looking out to the nothingness. Looking out to his man now in the sea. The man seemingly swimming away from the shore, as if he'd rather swim the entire Mediterranean than face what was out there again.

"This isn't the police…" In all the commotion, Breèko had almost forgotten that Hudson was still stood there with them. When the American voiced what was increasingly dawning on Breèko's mind, he couldn't help but glance at him again. Fear still lined every one of Hudson's features, but it was a new kind of fear. It wasn't fear in Breèko anymore, wasn't fear of the vial of death. "It's her."

His timing was perfect. Even as he said it, they all finally saw. Still some distance away, they saw above the dockyards. One of his men was grasped in her clutches. One of his better, most reliable men. A man who had seemingly been ripped out from one of the warehouses, and who now was having his rifle literally torn to pieces in his hand. The next second, he too was being tossed aside into the sea. A great fighter, brought down to nothing against her. Her armour shining bright, her aura fierce.

Wonder Woman. It was bloody Wonder Woman.

"Cast off," Breèko ordered. He had no idea how he said it, if he barked it or if it was nothing but a mutter. All he knew was he had to say it, eyes affixed to the sky for a long time. Wonder Woman had descended again, clearly still engaged in the fight with his men, but Breèko knew that wouldn't last long. All things ended. Beside him, Èrešnar too was still locked on the skies, not hearing any of the order until Breèko hollered it again. "Anže, cast us off, now!"

Èrešnar finally caught on. There was no waiting for the others. No going back for the men he'd sent in. He'd meant it when he'd said he'd learned that people were nothing more than commodities and collateral. Everything in Mišel Breèko's life resolved around his business, on staying on top. That left only one option now; escape. Sacrificing his goons could buy him the time to do that. But they had to move.

Èrešnar reached the bow line tying them to the pier, but Breèko didn't stand around watching as he got about casting it free. He was already leaping up the steps at the back of the boat to the top deck, to the controls. And as soon as he was there, he was firing up the engines, pushing the accelerator forwards as fast as he could without stalling the thing. At first, there was a resistance, the line clearly snagging. The next second, Èrešnar finally pulled through. With a roar of firing cylinders and the churn of turning propellers, the boat began to charge out of the quayside of the dockyards. Out towards open sea. The escapism of the waters.

The escapist notion that hadn't only been his own.

As soon as he'd received the panicked phone call, he knew he needed Hudson Price dead, just as he'd known the trafficking operation of the Nairomians was done. He'd just thought he would have more time to see it through, reckoning without a damn Amazon. Now, what he needed more than anything was Hudson's silence. With Wonder Woman's charge, he hadn't even the chance to stop and put a bullet in Price's skull. Now he was wishing he had. For knowing only death awaited him on this boat, Hudson Price was the one man aboard who'd rather face the Amazon than flee to sea.

It was the splash that was the signal. Even over the sound of the engine, the wake on the waters and the chaos at shore, Breèko heard the splash. Instantly his head snapped back to see the source. Almost as instantly, he could see Hudson in the waters. With Breèko and Èrešnar both distracted, he'd made a break for it. He'd jumped into the waters of the quay, already starting to swim for sure.

Breèko knew he had to get out of there. But if his business were to survive, he also knew he had to have Hudson's silence, that the truth of their operation here could not be revealed. People would not do business with a tainted dealer. Glancing ahead long enough to make sure they weren't about to smash headfirst into the quay walls before they were clear of the port, Breèko then dared take his hands off the wheel, to let the boat surge itself onwards. He dared turn away, and to draw his own pistol from its hidden holster.

Experts teach to only squeeze the trigger, but Breèko was lost to the moment. His finger was fierce as he unleashed round after round towards Price's desperately swimming form, getting ever further away. Perhaps that was why his usually trusted aim was so off. Enhanced by the rise and fall of the waves, his hand was too unsteady. He had to stop, to take a deep breath. To line Price up right in his sights.

The killshot. With calm, he had it. And with calm, he finally squeezed…

Only even the perfect aim did not kill Hudson Price. Because it seemed the scum's downfall was also his salvation. For just before the bullet could reach him, she had flown in from nowhere. He had heard stories of her bracelets deflecting gunfire. Now he had seen it for himself. Now he had seen Wonder Woman swoop down from the docks, putting herself right in the path of his fire. And he had seen her easily swat the bullet aside.

Now Breèko desperately turned back to the wheel, as if holding the steering mechanism could somehow affect the speed of the already maxed out boat. He saw just enough out of his eye corners to know that Wonder Woman had plunged her hand into the sea, grabbed Price by the scruff of his deck and unceremoniously tossed him the remaining metres to get him back to the docks. It was a throw that would undoubtedly hurt him, but Wonder Woman didn't seem to care. But she most certainly seemed pissed off.

An anger that was now all directed towards Breèko.

As the boat finally passed through the quay walls and out into fully open waters, something made Breèko glance back again. It was just in time to see Wonder Woman swooping in. Still flying through the air, it was like watching a hawk swooping down on its prey. So much so Breèko was already flinching as he saw her lining up her fists, seemingly ready to ram the boat asunder.

But he'd reckoned without Èrešnar. Once again, he'd forgotten he wasn't alone on the boat, but this time it was a good job he wasn't. Down on the lower aft deck, Èrešnar had charged forwards at Wonder Woman. He'd managed to get his hands on an automatic rifle, and seeing her coming in had been his signal to open fire. A stream of deadly bullets were sent flying her way, Èrešnar howling the air from his lungs with every shot.

Once again, Breèko got to see those bracelets in action as he kept having to glance at the action. Hands a blur, Wonder Woman's initial reaction had been one of defence, of deflection, of somehow managing to drive all those masses of bullets away from her body. But the stream was nearly constant. And one would be all it would take. One to get through her defences. One to make her fall. One to at least give them the chance to get away. And perhaps, one to take her down…

For a brief, impossible moment, Breèko dared to dream that that one had made it through. Where Darkseid, the Imperium, the Thanagarians and Luthor had all failed, Breèko dared to dream that Anže Èrešnar had been the man to kill Wonder Woman. As he watched her spiral down and splash deep below the waters, he couldn't help his hopeful reaction. As she didn't reappear several moments later, as the boat continued to chug unhindered further into the sea, Breèko couldn't help but cheer in the belief that they had somehow gotten away.

He couldn't help but think he had his escape.

Until everything was taken away from under him. Literally.

At first he felt the surge. Grabbing at the wheel to stabilise himself as much as anything, his first thought was that it was a nasty wave. Perhaps even that they'd hit a rock. But then, he noticed that in doing so he'd turned the wheel, yet the boat had made no change in direction. He noticed the sound, the engine still working but no churn of water resounding behind it, as if the propellers were now turning only air. And then his panicked mind finally allowed him to feel it, to realise it. To feel the whole boat rising. To feel as everything took to the air.

It was impossible. The whole boat must have weighed two thousand tonnes, but there was no denying it. Desperately, he grabbed for any hold he could take as they rose higher and higher. Down below, he could see Èrešnar clutching on for dear life at the railings at the side of the boat. The rifle was still in his hand, but now it was absolutely useless. He couldn't see her to fire, even if one of those bullets ever could get through. There was no line of sight.

Not when Wonder Woman was directly under the boat.

Not when she was lifting the whole thing up high into the sky.

Panic took Breèko's mind as he continued to push the accelerator forward as if it would make any difference anymore, but by then they must have been at least twenty metres in the air. Thirty. And then, eyes widening in horror with every inch crossed, he saw it. He saw as Wonder Woman, the flying Amazon with the strength of a thousand men, effortlessly carried the boat back towards the shoreline. In mere moments, they were hovering almost exactly over one of the dock's warehouses, one Breèko knew would be deserted but also one he knew well, a regular part in his Nairomian operation.

And by then, there was nothing for Breèko to do but to sink to his knees. The escape was over. His business was dead. The whole purpose of his life, the one thing he had learned meaning in. It was over. Taken in the blink of an eye. He could already feel it. He was broken. He had failed.

But he also new he had to brace. Because he could also tell what was happening next. He had seen it in her eyes as she had flown before going beneath the waves. The rage. The need to revenge.

For a long moment, the boat just hung there in the air, the anticipation almost killing him. Down below, Èrešnar dared peer over the side, as if to see what was going on, but Breèko just held on tight. He knew this wouldn't kill, that she would ensure that. But it was going to bloody hurt.

Because the next second, Wonder Woman let go.

The next second, the entire boat began to fall.

To plummet to Earth, to the solidity of the warehouse, its innards and the ground further below.

Boats had always been the symbol of escape to Mišel Breèko. There would be no escaping anymore.

There was only the rush of the wind. And the ground closing in, fast…

She had been right. Seeing Wonder Woman's signal had definitely been worth it. Of course, she was used to it from all the fantastical things she'd seen Superman do over the years, but it never got old watching a person flying while carrying an entire boat above their head. And seeing Wonder Woman kick the arses of all the thugs at the dockyards hadn't been half bad either.

As she'd finally left the car and walked through the docks towards where that boat had fallen, Lois had surveyed the full damage. Strewn bullet cases were everywhere, but there was very little signs of blood or damage. What there was was a score of defeated villains, all looked battered and beaten, all lulled and barely even awake. All bound and manacled by freshly created chains, torn metal wrapped around them tightly as only someone with super-strength could achieve. Even the second man who had been on the boat at the end was like that, unceremoniously dumped outside the entrance to the end warehouse. After being on that boat when it fell, he looked even more defeated than the rest.

Yet despite seeing all that, Lois still had to stop and let out a whistle when she finally made it inside that building. It was impossible not to. The whole in the rafters, the fallen ceiling struts sprayed everywhere. The smashed, flattened and broken machinery that had been in the centre of the room until the crushing weight had fallen. Chunks of the now holed hull that had been thrown out on impact.

And of course, the boat itself, the cause of all this damage. Its hull cracked and split right down the middle, its keel buckled and collapsed underneath. The whole thing lay on its side, bits of the warehouse roof puncturing it as it was left perched and broken by the crates and machinery and forklift that had been below where it fell. It was a ridiculous sight that no one should ever normally see.

But with people like Wonder Woman around, they were seen more and more often these days.

"Nice work…" Lois couldn't help but voice her approval to the room. "I like what you've done with the place."

"I think I broke their little ships."

Wonder Woman stepped around the foot of that boat, walking towards a crate between it and where Lois now stood. Calm was clearly hers again, the excitement of the action done. But what Lois really noticed was the golden rope wrapped around Wonder Woman's hand. More accurately, the full length of the rope, and the two men bound in it that Wonder Woman dragged along behind her. As she finally reached the crate, Wonder Woman gave that rope one final tug. The two men, as defeated as all those outside, had no resistance against her strength, both pulled forcefully across the final metres. Both crashing against the wood, and then both collapsing to the floor, back to back. Stepping forward herself, Lois immediately recognised Hudson Price as one of them. The other, the one Wonder Woman seemed really interested in, she could guess. He was the other man on the boat, the man in charge of all this. Breèko.

"I'm sure half the town saw or heard your little show out there," Lois stoically told Diana as she stepped up to her side. "By which I mean, you might want to make this fast. Considering half of them might have been on this guy's payroll for a while, I doubt the cops will want you talking to him too much before they can take him away."

"I won't need long," Wonder Woman firmly responded, gripping the end of the lasso tighter wrapped around her fist. As she did so, Lois saw it glow all the more. At the same time, both Breèko and Hudson winced as if feeling its force already hitting. Lois had heard of this, but it was the first time she'd ever got to see it. The lasso of truth in action. Addressing Breèko, Diana was quickly asking her first question. "You will tell me what happened to the people of the Cuore dei Beati Antenati camp. Of Amara Tesheme Etefu and Walif Melaku Dagmawi, and all those who disappeared before them. Of the bandaged man who took them. And you will tell me now."

At first, Breèko only winced, then he growled, teeth bared. And then, he could resist no more, the words tumbling out from his preceding scream of defeat. "The doll was nothing to do with me. With us. I gave him samples of the substance he puts in their teeth to destroy them, but that's it. I wanted nothing to do with those freaks. That's the main reason I wanted out."

"Then who, Breèko?" Wonder Woman pressed. "If not you, then who is behind this? We know the man in the bandages was a Nairomian. We know something was done to him before I saw him at that camp. Who is behind this? Where are they taking those refugees? It what do they want?"

"I…I don't know his name," Breèko was against forced to speak against his will. "Part of our deal, I didn't want to know. Security, protection…good for business. But they paid me, paid us, to help them…access the migrants. We already had an in, we were running a smuggling racket as it was. I already had the right people on my payroll, including Hudson Price. It was an extra revenue stream I couldn't refuse. But I can tell you where he got us to take the refugees we took from the camp."

"You don't know his name?" Lois voiced her incredulity, unable to help it. It was Wonder Woman's interrogation, but she wasn't one for holding her tongue, especially when there was something to get to the bottom off. Wonder Woman didn't seem to mind, especially with Lois holding off just long enough to allow Breèko to rattle off an address she recognised as being just a few miles up the coast. "I find it hard to believe that a man like you wouldn't make sure he had some sort of leverage over his business partners."

From the look on his face, it was clear that Breèko had been hoping they wouldn't pick up on that. He had tried to get beyond the lasso by answering only the questions as asked, by an excessively literal approach. He had failed.

"We only know him as 'the Professor'. He's messed up, a psychopath, probably schizophrenic, but he's smart. What happened to the man in the bandages, that was him. His…surgery. He said he needed the migrants for his experiments, to do to them whatever turned that man into the doll. And he put the carbon nitrates in their teeth as a means of making sure their secrets couldn't be found out until he was ready. He said he needed people who were disposable, who wouldn't be missed. I didn't know the full extent of what he was doing at first, but when I saw his first…doll, that's when I called off our deal. When he started sending his dolls straight into the camp direct, trying to collect more test subjects. He makes me look a model citizen. He's…insane. Insane to the point where even I was afraid of him."

As Breèko has been speaking, Lois found herself instinctively looking up to Wonder Woman. Likewise, Wonder Woman looked up to Lois. Both of them clearly had the same reaction. With Breèko, the situation would have been dark, horrific, inhumane. But it would have been the work of man. Man at his worst, but man. Gangs, criminals, but just an ordinary man. But this. This…Professor. Even if he was a man, he didn't sound ordinary.

He sounded like a monster.

A monster that they had to stop.

But Breèko wasn't finished talking yet either.

"And that mask. That weird mask he always wore. I never saw his face, only the mask.

"The mask of a pig…"

Several Hours Ago…

At long last, the bag was ripped from her head, the gag torn from her mouth. It felt like it had been on for days, like trapping darkness was all she had ever known. Now, suddenly, she was in the intense spotlight, and she was left still unable to see.

Amara's breathing remained ragged too. The panic she felt was intense. At first she had thought it had been the gag leaving her struggling for breath. Now she knew it was instead the crippling fear. Back home, in Nairomi, amongst the soldiers and the fighting, such an abduction only ever ended one way.

But this wasn't back home. She had to tell herself that. She wasn't dead, not yet. They had come here in search of hope. They had come here to make a new life, she and Walif… Walif…

"Walif?!" she screamed his name. She had to scream his name. The moment they had both been grabbed from their hovel in the camp, they had both been shoved in the back of the van. But the armed gunmen in there had made it clear for her not to move, shoving the rough cloth gag into her mouth to silence her. The bag on her head had also meant she couldn't see. And since she was struck across the head more than once by the barrel of a gun for daring to resist, she was afraid. Because she had at least heard him struggling too, the disabled, pained man without his crutches. What if they'd done something to him…

Even worse, as soon that van had stopped, she had been forcibly dragged out of there. Brought what felt like miles with her feet scraping along the ground, every effort she made to shove the firm hands dragging her away failing. Then she had left, thrown in some kind of chair, hands and feet bound to the floor by some sort of chains, and otherwise abandoned. Senses disoriented, time had slowed to a standstill. A feeling made even worse by the unknown, the expanding fear. And the lack of hearing any other rattling chains.

What if they'd killed him…?

"WALIF?!"

"I'm here! Amara, I'm here, I'm right here with you! Look! Look at me! I'm not leaving you. I'm here!"

Amara had already been blinking rapidly trying to get her vision back. Now she was doing it faster than ever. Her head felt like it was lolling around all over the place as she tried to get back her bearings, the blurring slowly starting to fade. But it turned out that not many directions could she see.

Slowly she began to be able to distinguish the light from the dark again, making that the room she was now in, wherever that was, had carefully controlled its illumination. The circular spotlight made sure only a particular circumference was lit, the same circumference in which she was still chained.

Then she saw the blur. Opposite her, the outline the shape. Opening her eyes wide, she tried to force them to focus, to make sense of it. Another big blink and she finally made out more of the detail. It looked a human shape, equally seated. Chained… But something wasn't right. The legs.

There was only one leg.

"Walif!" This time Amara's yell was one of relief as finally she made him out. Her vision came back just in time to see his smile at her recognition. Despite everything, despite how bad this was, how scared he too would be, he would always smile for her. But by then, she could make out more of his chains. More of the bruising around his eye, the cuts, the beatings he was displaying. And she could see that he indeed was as manacled as she was. They were together, but that just meant that they both remained in incredible danger.

A fact emphasised a moment later as they first heard the sound of clapping. Sinister clapping. Slow, and growing louder. Followed by the sounds of encroaching footsteps. And then…

A snort? A…pig's squeal?

"Yes! Oh, yes!" the voice sounded out too. It sounded naturally deep, yet unnaturally high. It sounded broken. It sounded…wrong. "These two will do. They will do indeed!"

It had taken a while, but by then Amara had managed to get a handle on where the sound was coming from, which direction. Only that, only the intense oddity of the voice, the intense fear it brought in her, made her turn away from Walif. Across, it seemed he could say the same thing. For they both stared as, slowly, the figure stepped into the light.

But the figure paused, hesitating before passing all the way over the threshold. Amara could see his torso, but she couldn't make out his face. That was bad enough though. Podgy and round in built, he looked like some kind of butcher, his clear plastic apron shimmering at the spotlight's edge over dark trousers and plain white shirt. Or at least, it had been plain white, for the apron hadn't been enough to stop all of the blood spatters. His legs looked like he was wearing a fisherman's waders, while his hands… Rubber gloves, bright yellow, but again plastered in red. And within his grasp, they could see why.

The meat cleaver clutched tightly in one. The filing knife in the other. And each one was dripping with blood, even as he stood there.

If Amara could recoil against the chains she would. As it was, all she could do was wretch, almost sick at the sight alone.

Another snort suddenly erupted from the man at the edge of the light as a result, his gut trembling as it turned into a squealing chuckle. He was clearly amused by her fear, her disgust.

And then, the man finally stepped fully into the light, leaning in close towards her. Again she tried to back away as the blade of the cleaver moved menacingly close to her face, but truthfully it wasn't the metal that she most wanted to get away from. It was the face of the man wearing it.

Or more accurately, the mask. The mask that looked almost like it had been freshly severed from the head of a pig.

"Oh, yes. I can help you. And you can help me. Yes indeed. A cut, a slice… A change. Your body is mine now. Your mind is mine now. Mine to amend. My blades, they shall fix you, my dear. I shall take away your imperfections. All your imperfections!"

The man thrust back his arm as he said that, thrust back his cleaver. Directing it at Walif. A message that was clear. He was saying Walif was such an imperfection. Not only was he threatening to cut her, he was threatening to kill Walif…

This man was insane!

Amara's eyes darted across at him, and he too suddenly looked petrified, but the mask, looming over her face, suddenly drew even closer, giving her no chance to look at Walif anymore. And in the process, leaving her even more afraid of what this man was about to do.

As if to make matters worse, just at that moment the scores of other shadows began stepping towards the light, forming the circle around its edge. The figures clearly subservient to this pig. All wearing the bandages for the mask, just as those who had snatched her and Walif from the camp.

And then Amara realised why they wore those bandages. They had all already been victims of the pig…

Jaw trembling, Amara then finally forced herself to look back into that mask, now only centimetres from her own face. Into the eyes, the hollow eyes, lit by a light only of insanity. At the meat clever and the knife, still ready to be brandished.

And at the smile creating out where the mask ended beneath his nose…his snout. The vicious, impending smile.

"Perfection. Loveless perfection. I, Professor Pyg, shall help you achieve perfection!"

A/N:

Go on then...Did anyone see that coming? Tell me in the reviews!

And yes, there is a reason why I made a last minute change to tone down and somewhat normalise how he talks. For now...