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Part II, Chapter VII**********************************************************
The groan of the door stirred her from her sleep. The room was darker than she remembered, what little light in the room spilling from the window, as flames continued to rage outside. Diana lay still as her eyes adjusted to the dark, her muscles tensing.
For the first time in her life, she felt true fear.
Heavy footsteps then a sagging mattress made her breath catch in her throat. She prayed that her nervousness would hide her lie in a guise of modesty and shyness.
"Wait." The syllable fell from trembling lips.
The movement on the bed stopped.
"What?" His voice was terse and cold.
Athena give me strength.
"I want this . . ." So far, the truth. Simply not the truth he heard.
"And?"
"But I want to do this right. It's an Amazonian ritual." His eyes burned into her. Could he see her deception?
"Please," her voice shook, but she decided to use it, "I am only going to wrap this around your waist. I won't hurt you." She slipped the lasso out from under the pillow as she sat up and laid the golden coils between them.
"You tried to strangle me with that earlier."
"Please?" She swallowed her revulsion that she was begging this monster.
"And what would be the point?"
Good question. Haven't worked that out myself. She was careful not to touch the lasso when she spoke next.
"It binds us in what the Amazons consider a sacred act." She gulped and embellished a little further, "It will heighten your pleasure." She could have groaned at herself with the stupidity of that statement and hoped an Apokoliptian male was just as foolish in these matters as those on Earth.
"And THEN we can finally do this already? I wasn't planning on being here all night."
She forced her biggest smile and knew he'd never notice that it didn't reach her eyes. Slipping a loop around him, she tried to touch him tenderly, but her hands shook too much and her nausea returned. Her inner voice agreed with Darkseid.
Hurry.
She lay on her back, grasping the end of her lasso in a damp palm. Her eyes were wide as she watched this monster of a man lower his body to hers. As soon as she felt him close, she immediately started in a soft voice, ignoring his growl.
"We are done for tonight. You have entered me several times . . ." She began as detailed a description she could muster—weaving a story, not a lie. Her need for accuracy battled with her body's revulsion at her own words. His slow nod signaled the effectiveness of the lasso. Her story of their evening complete, he rolled off her and left, as she tried not to flinch when she felt his body graze her thighs. The lasso tugging at her hand, she was on her feet and behind him at the door.
"Wait."
He turned and she could see the impatience in his eyes.
"I forgot to remove this." Another nervous smile.
He growled, but paused long enough to shove the lasso to the floor and stepped out of it and through the door.
The door shut and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. She had always disliked using the persuasive power of the lasso, since it went against truth, and was surprised that it worked against Darkseid, but she had no choice.
Her hand rested lightly against her abdomen. "I have no choice."
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"Master Clark, you must focus."
Two blue eyes stared back from a dour sixteen year-old face. "This is boring. I want to learn something cool."
"Your technique is dreadful. Once you master the basics and can perform them with some proficiency, we shall attempt something more 'cool.'" The last word was said with obvious distaste.
"We haven't been out in weeks."
"After the last attempt at patrolling? You are fortunate you are still here to complain about it."
"I'm not complaining. You are." The words were hurried as Clark dodged and shadow boxed an imaginary opponent. Alfred promptly swung out his cane and with one swift strike, knocked the teenager back.
"As I was saying, Master Clark, you must master the basics if you are to engage in hand-to-hand combat. That child nearly pushed you from the roof with less force."
Clark stared up with angry eyes, "That wasn't fair."
Tim, who was listening to the exchange, winced on Clark's behalf. Granted, the child pickpocket was small, but he sure built up a lot of momentum.
"Life is not fair. We are in a world overrun by an alien tyrant who fancies himself a demi-god. You are the survivors' last best hope yet you shirk your responsibilities."
"I don't want this!"
"Get dressed."
"Why?"
"Master Clark, you and I are going on patrol."
"All right. Now can I wear it?"
"No. This won't be that kind of patrol."
Alfred, despite the cane, still strode to the Batmobile with the air of a gentleman, his steps even and smooth, head high, posture perfect. Nothing in his walk betrayed the artificial limb built by Scott that attached where his right lower leg once was. The cane was a precaution, thrusted upon him by Tim, Scott, and Clark.
Tim watched Alfred's walk and tried to ignore his jealousy. He saw the pain the man went through, when mapping out the tunnels, Hunger Dogs caught up to them. Alfred got them back into the Batcave. He almost made himself, but one of the beasts grabbed his leg.
Alfred never complained, never spoke of it. He accepted Scott's prosthesis graciously and bit down his own pride long enough for a proper rehabilitation. One would think that incident alone would have been enough to make Clark, thirteen at the time, attack his studies with a relish, but sadly, it did the opposite. The young man withdrew from their carefully planned lessons. Recently his interest seemed to pique, but now that appeared to be from boredom.
Tim had no idea what Alfred had planned, but he knew the old man was crafty. Looking again at the noble stride, Tim admitted he was still learning a thing or two from the former butler as well.
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Footsteps.
For the past two weeks, those heavy footfalls made her fists clench as bile crawled into her throat. Tonight however, she sat perfectly still, serenely awaiting his entrance. She hoped she waited an adequate amount of time before telling him, although she doubted he had any idea either.
Darkseid glanced at Diana and a sneer tugged his lip. She raised her head in response and stared directly at him.
"I'm pregnant."
Speaking these words felt glorious. Now that she could acknowledge her pregnancy to someone else besides Bruce, she finally felt pregnant.
"About time." He still approached the bed.
The old fear returned. "What are you doing?"
"What I've been doing since you got here." Amused, he raised an eyebrow.
Nodding quickly, her hands reached back to find her pillow. His weight upon her, his hands groping her skin as her own groped the sheets.
His thick fingers trailed her throat and continued down.
Biting her lip, she thrust her hands under the pillow again.
Both their hands swept their respective planes: his, her body and hers, the bed.
She swallowed a gasp as her fingers closed around the rope, just as his pulled up her simple gown.
His knee nudged between her legs as she slid her body back.
Throwing a loop of the lasso around him, she began her story, a variation of the same story she told every night, for the past fourteen nights.
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"What's with that smell?"
"Master Tim's poor grammar is influencing yours I see. That smell is the scent of a city moved underground."
Clark and Alfred stood above the slow moving crowds in what was once a subway tunnel.
"What about the market place we went to?"
"That was short-lived I'm afraid. People were bolder then, Master Clark. There are rumors of Darkseid's return to Gotham. We are all just awaiting the day."
The teen watched as vendor yelled from a stand and a woman dragged her filthy children by their hands, ignoring him as she hurried by.
"It's time for families to return home," Alfred clarified the woman's haste as Clark spied the crowd mulling around a tunnel opening.
"Where are they going?" He pointed to the gathering.
"That would be an adult entertainment establishment."
"What?"
"Not a place for you, because you are underage, and not a place for me, as I have good taste."
"What goes on there?"
"Patrons consume alcoholic beverages that were most likely brewed in places less sanitary than the sewers we walked, every manner of lewd and bawdy behavior is encouraged, and the evening most likely concludes with a scuffle."
Fascinated he watched the crowd thin as people were slowly let in, one at a time. He noticed a couple large men were the ones controlling the entrance.
"Those scars on theirs bodies . . . from a whip? Like Tim's scars?"
Squinting as he leaned over the rail, he shook his head and grinned, "Your eyes are better than mine, sir. I take you at your word, so yes, Master Clark, they must be escaped slaves as well."
"That's why Darkseid's coming back, isn't it? Too many people here got away . . ."
Alfred nodded slowly, "Darkseid's first choice was Metropolis, most likely because it symbolized Superman's defeat. Unfortunately for us, he soon found Gotham closer to his taste."
Clark missed the latter half of Alfred's words when a fight broke out in the crowd. As soon as his hand reached the rail, the center of the throng cleared, revealing a man with a knife buried to the hilt in his chest. The young man's jaw dropped.
"Everyone's just walking away. Who killed him? Why did he have to die?"
"I'm afraid, Master Clark, it doesn't matter as much to them."
"What's wrong with them? We don't know if he was bad. Maybe he didn't deserve to die."
Alfred grabbed the young man's shoulders and turned him. His tone was gentle, but firm, "No one deserves to die, and certainly not in a manner so violent." He released his hold and gesturing with his cane, spoke sadly, "Do not blame them either. Their lives are hard enough. We have been most fortunate since this began. Not everyone in Gotham is so blessed."
"Because we have money?"
"Yes, the jewelry and such." The elderly gent grinned briefly, "There goes your dowry."
His face became serious as he watched the people below, "Most people weren't living as your father was when Darkseid arrived."
Clark followed his gaze to a woman and man walking away from the crowd with hurried steps.
"What about them?"
"Well you learned about theft on your own when you were nine, now you've learned about murder. Let's say we go learn the remaining seven deadly sins. Shall we?"
Clark followed, his face fallen into a frown.
"Okay . . ."
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The woman stared back at Diana, her face taut and shadows under her eyes. The woman rested her hand on her belly, as did Diana. The muscles leaner than what Diana remembered, the woman's legs were skinnier making her knees look bigger.
Sighing, Diana stepped away from the mirror. In her second trimester, she delighted in the growing protuberance of her abdomen. She gazed in the mirror often, checking her stomach from every angle. But that was her only delight.
Her reflection was less and less recognizable with each day. She clung to the memory of her old appearance, uniform and all, because that was how he last saw her. Wonder Woman died that day, with Batman, the Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl. She thought of them often and sometimes caught herself speaking to them. She would promise them that she would not let their deaths be in vain. A part of her subconscious spoke aloud in these moments, chiding her that such promises were more for her. But not all of her had grown cynical. She had not lost hope that somehow J'onn and Kal would be returned.
Diana just couldn't figure out how.
With her pregnancy more obvious, she was afforded more freedoms around Darkseid's palace. She had to admit a modicum of bittersweet excitement when he moved his fortress to Gotham. The small window in her room granted her a limited view of what was once a spectacular skyline and she would gaze out often, imagining him perched atop what buildings remained standing.
Darkseid did stop the mass killings, but her heart quickly sank when she realized he was now taking people as slaves. She made herself appear weak and clumsy enough that he actually offered her a slave of her own. She accepted reluctantly, not wanting to play her hand. She had every intention of using her lasso if he didn't offer.
Glancing once more in the mirror, she patted her belly and made her way towards Granny's "Orphanage."
Two parademons fell into step behind her, their vacant eyes and slack jaws making her groan inwardly. These imbeciles could never put up a fight if she chose to give one. Fortunately, Darkseid didn't know that. She remained with Darkseid simply because that was the safest place for her unborn child at the moment. She allowed herself a wry smile knowing that probably would have made Bruce proud.
"Lashina."
"Princess."
Diana bit back the wince that usually accompanied the sarcastic use of her title. Somehow word had gotten out among Darkseid's people of her title among the Amazons, fueling her fear that Themyscira had been found, and considering the lack of Amazons she saw among the enslaved populace, she was forced to admit the worst.
"I am here to get a new slave."
"Another one ran away?" Lashina's doubt was obvious.
"Actually yes. I need a replacement."
Lashina rolled her eyes, but stepped away from the gate. Fortunately, Diana had yet to deal with Granny Goodness. She knew the old woman wouldn't swallow her doubts as easily as the Furies.
Diana stepped outside into the courtyard and watched the rows of chain gangs digging into the ground. She hated having to choose. It went against all her beliefs as an Amazon—to select one life over another was simply wrong. Yet she had already made this choice several times within the past month. Too bad they keep getting away, she thought with a small grin.
An elderly woman was trying to keep up with the others, but she could barely her raise her arms to strike the ground. Stompa was standing behind the woman, waiting for the inevitable fall. Diana turned to her parademon escorts.
"That one. Bring her to my chambers." One of the demons nodded and scurried across the courtyard. Diana turned and headed back inside to her room. She didn't want word to get out among the slaves about what she did. She knew she could never bear turning someone down if they specifically asked her for her help, yet to do so may compromise the lives of others she could free. Also, any talk among the slaves would inevitably reach the wrong ears. She could only control Darkseid so much with her lasso. If he were to learn about this before she could be alone with him, she knew many more would die, she included.
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