The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 6

By Christopher W. Blaine

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DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

"I thought we might go over the personal possessions of the deceased before we went to actually look at the body," Steven said as they started their dinner. Surprisingly, the agent had not wanted to take Diana out for typical German cuisine but had instead opted for a small Italian restaurant. They had both ordered and were sipping wine.

Diana had changed into something a bit more revealing, but not too much. She was still trying to get a feel for Steven and had to admit she wasn't exactly sure why she was even worried about it. She and Donna would conduct her investigation of the incident, perhaps even apprehend the person responsible and then return to America.

But why did she have to do that? She was a United Nations ambassador with the ability to travel throughout the world at any time! "Do you enjoy your work?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He examined his napkin and shrugged. "I love my country and I love serving the people. I just wish there were more German super-heroes, or even European ones!"

"So, you don't have very much to do I take it?"

He sipped at his water before replying and Diana noted that he seemed to weigh every answer to any question. She liked someone who did that; it was refreshing after spending her time with the alpha-males of the Justice League. None of her masculine teammates were shy about speaking off the hip! "I do a lot of research, actually. Why are there more heroes and villains in the United States than in Europe?"

Diana tapped the tabletop with a long red fingernail. "I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in the diversity of metahumans. I always assumed that it was equally distributed but that those in America tended to me more flashy."

"I wouldn't call Batman 'flashy'," he chided. He had a disarming smile and Diana knew that she was attracted to this man because he was good-looking, but not in a god-like sort of way like Kal-El. Steven had Batman's physique, but there was no darkness; he didn't act like a coiled spring or a cocked pistol. He was intelligent, able to discuss a variety of subjects, but not professing to be an expert. In simple terms, he was a breath of fresh air.

She couldn't help but wonder which one, between her and Donna, that he preferred, at least from a physical standpoint. "You would be surprised what Batman gets called behind his back. English is not my original tongue but I have to admit I've learned several new swear words that don't have an exact Greek translation."

"I can't imagine what it must be like," Steven said offhandedly.

"You are patronizing me," Diana warned.

"Yes, I am," he confessed. "I apologize." He coughed and then returned to the previous subject. "After the war, several German scientists were either taken to the West or to the Soviet Union. My theory is that work performed by those scientists during the post-war years led to the rise of metahumans today."

"Theory?" Diana asked, intrigued. "Are you writing a book?"

"Personal interest, actually." He stopped speaking while their food was brought to them. All of it was wonderful and Diana wondered what Steven would say if she ate like she normally did. As an Amazon, she had an incredibly high metabolism and could essentially eat anything and as much as she wanted.

The servers left after pouring the wine and Steven toasted their hopeful success. "I don't mean to say that every America metahuman is the result of German science, but there is a lot of evidence that the Nazis were very close to developing a whole spectrum of super-human soldiers."

"Is that what the Seraph was looking into?" Diana asked as she started into her salad. A dossier that Steven had provided her on the way over had indicated that the Seraph was conducting research into a scientist that worked for the Reich during World War 2. "Do you think that was what got him killed?"

"I don't know, but it is intriguing isn't it? The Seraph had contacted our office to find out of we had any information to add to his own research. It turns out he had more than we did and he was very happy to share." He salted his pasta as he spoke and stopped to sniff the rising steam. "This is the best; better than anything you can find in Italy."

"I don't know about that," Diana remarked. The food was good and it reminded her of home, not that they ate a lot of pasta in Thymerscia. It just put thoughts in her head of the land she had left behind to pursue her mission of peace. "But the atmosphere is certainly pleasant."

"As is the company," he said, raising his wine glass to her. She accepted the toast with a modesty he had never experienced in such a beautiful woman and then changed the subject to things that did not deal with death.

Donna looked at the three glasses of beer in front of her, each one something different. She wasn't much of a drinker and getting drunk was very difficult for her to do, but she did enjoy sampling the local fare. Several patrons of the hotel bar were staring at her and many men were shaking their heads as Donna downed mug after mug.

A man stepped up to her and smiled. "I could write a story about this, you know?"

She didn't bother to look at him. "Take a picture, it lasts longer." She regretted the brush off immediately. She was feeling just a bit left out and it was her own fault. Donna knew she had gotten caught up in the flirtatious rivalry and bowing out as she had for dinner had backfired. She had expected Diana to demand she attend supper with them.

Donna turned to regard the man who had spoken to her and was pleasantly surprised. He was tall with wavy blond hair and wearing cologne that stimulated the senses but didn't overpower. He had incredibly deep blue eyes, even more spectacular than Steven's. The man was dressed in clothes that were not too fashionable, but were nonetheless in good condition and clean. He had the look of someone who desperately wanted to achieve great things, but was limited by his faults. "I'm sorry," she said, offering her hand. "I'm Donna."

"Yes, I know. Your arrival is the buzz of the paparazzi." He pointed to the throng of photographers just outside the bar. Hotel rules prevented them from entering, as did the two burly security men. "You are the one called Troia, correct?"

Donna smiled and tried to place the man's accent. It sounded (and she hated to think it) like generic European; like something an American actor would use in a movie. "Yes, and you are?"

"Henry Miller," he said with a large grin, as if the entire world should know who he was. When Donna did not immediately react, his smile started to fade. "I'm a freelance journalist."

"Oh," she said. So, he wanted a story.

"I heard you were here with your sister…"

"And you wanted an interview?" Donna asked, turning her attention back to her beers. Everyone wanted to meet Diana. "I'll mention it to my sister when I see her again."

There was hurt in Henry's voice. "I'm sorry, but I think you misunderstand. I'm writing about the death of the Seraph," he said in hushed tones. Donna turned back and looked at him. It didn't surprise her that some reporters already knew about the hero's death, but the way Henry was not trying to let the world know immediately, get the "scoop" as it was called, was unusual. "As I said, I'm freelance. Someone else will eventually let the story out," he said, drawing closer to her to prevent anyone from overhearing. "I want to get the story of the investigation. I specialize in deep investigative reporting."

"Then why haven't I read any of your stuff?" Donna said half-jokingly.

"I write mostly for private publications, nothing national. This, however, could be my big break." His eyes were pleading with her and they were very pretty eyes after all. Unlike Diana, however, Donna wasn't usually taken in by just a pretty face.

Well, that wasn't exactly true either when she considered her dating history. She sighed. "I'll have to clear it with out governmental liaison," she said, still giving him the once-over. Up close, she started to realize that he was very attractive and she couldn't help but be reminded of none other than Bruce Wayne. There was an air of confidence with this reporter that you normally did not see.

When Henry had shown her the crowd at the entrance, she detected his disdain for them. Maybe he was one of those reporters that lived for the story, not the publicity. It was an attitude Donna had tried to use in her approach to photography.

For a brief moment, she wondered if she were speaking to the Batman in disguise. It would be like him to do just that, dress up like a reporter and enter a country that had strictly forbade him from crossing the border. Maybe it was Dick and a wild fantasy ripped through her mind at the speed of thought. Would Dick Grayson come all the way to Germany, disguise himself and possibly seduce her? It just told her that her feelings for her teammate went a lot deeper than she liked to admit.

"Would you like a beer?" she asked. "I'm buying. The German government is treating."

For a second, a look of disgust seemed to wash over him, as if drinking something as common as beer was beneath him. Then the look was gone and he shrugged. "To be honest, I am not much for beer, but I do enjoy cognac, " he answered.

"Bruce?" she whispered, but he didn't seem to notice as he turned to get a bar stool to sit next to her. Suddenly, Henry Miller was the envy of all of the men in the room as he sat down next to the former Wonder Girl.

"Weren't you once a Darkstar?" he asked.

"Long time ago," Donna replied as the bartender brought Henry his drink. "It's something all of us American heroes like to do, change costumes and names. Adds a little spice to our lives."

"Ah, yes, well I started out in the military myself," Henry said as he tasted the liquor. "From there I did quite a bit of traveling and exploring across Europe."

"By yourself?"

He nodded. "It is the best way to get the story, to experience what you are writing about on your own. If someone else is with you, your writing could be influenced by their perceptions."

"If we let you follow us around, what do you plan to write?" Donna asked him as she held up three fingers to the bartender.

Henry looked around. "The truth, of course, but I also want to make sure people understand the process involved." Donna wanted to believe him, but she had worked with enough reporters in her life that she was suspicious. He seemed to see it in her expression and gave a little chuckle. "And I hope to write a book about it one day."

"Ah," Donna responded. She had to admit, the investigation into the death of a super-hero would make very good reading and the fact that he had come up and personally requested to join in their investigation was definitely in his favor. "What can you offer us?"

"I know that the Seraph was here investigating the late Dr. Teufel," Henry said. Donna shrugged and said she had no idea who that was. Henry took another sip and pursed his lips. Suddenly, he reached inside his suit jacket and retrieved a business card. "Talk to your sister and the government investigator and then call me when what I have sounds interesting."

"So, I only have to be interested in your information to call?" she said, wiping the foam from her lips.

He laughed again; he seemed to be happy all of the time. Donna found that to be very attractive and made a mental note to mention it to the boys back at Titans Tower. "I must be going before I say something to ruin this fortunate meeting."

"You don't want to stay?" she asked, expecting him to make some sort of moronic attempt to get in her pants.

"Perhaps some other time?" he replied and she was suddenly put off. Did she say something wrong? Was he gay? There was no way; she was sure he had given her jeans the once over. Maybe she was getting old? "I have a previous appointment that I cannot miss, sources and all. You understand?"

She said she did and wondered if maybe she could catch a flight home. Donna felt as if she were in a perpetual funk. "Are you in the habit of blowing off women who drink like fish in a bar?"

He looked as if he would almost say yes, but he shook his head. "No, but I am not in the habit of treating women like they are whores either by lurking in bars, waiting to take advantage of them. Perhaps I am old-fashioned; perhaps you are used to playboy Americans, but I feel a woman should be treated with dignity." He put a few Euros on the bar. "When the time is right, I would be honored to show you how a German treats a lady."

He disappeared into the crowd and Donna had to remind herself to close her mouth.

It was nearly two in the morning when Diana entered the suite and Donna was sitting up, watching the news. "Have fun, dear?" she asked in a mocking tone.

Diana leaned against the doorway into the common area of the suite and reached down to take off her shoes. "You should have come," Diana said. She didn't really mean it because she had a wonderful time, discussing things that had no Earth-shattering ramifications.

"Oh, I decided to go get drunk," was the response. "Too bad they don't have anything strong enough to do it."

Diana reached into her top and unhooked her bra, pulling it out through her sleeve. "This is pure torture; a man had to create these things."

"I don't see why you wear it; it isn't like Amazons need them," Donna said, offering up a bag of popcorn. "Hell, I've had a kid and not a single stretch mark or droop. It's like were aren't human."

"We're not, exactly," Diana said, grabbing some popcorn. "I did learn a little more about the Seraph, though."

Donna nodded. "Anything having to do with a Dr. Teufel?"

Diana stopped eating. "Where did you hear that name?" she asked.

Her sister explained her meeting with Henry and Diana in turn told Donna about the dossier. "So, who the hell was this doctor?" Donna finally asked at the end of their stories.

"Apparently, he was a scientist working on some sort of super-soldier program for the Nazis towards the end of the war," Diana commented.

"Maybe our mother knows something about him?" Hippolyta, the queen of Thymerscia and Diana's mother (and technically Donna's as well), had traveled back in time to the era of World War 2 only a few years prior. While there, she operated under the name of Wonder Woman and joined the All-Star Squadron. "I mean, she did have a few battles with Baron Blitzkrieg."

"I'll put a call into her in the morning," Diana said as she stood up. "I need a shower and some sleep."

"Do we really need sleep?" Donna inquired sarcastically. It had become her favorite pastime whenever they were alone to ask as many questions regarding Amazon physiology as she could.

"Sleep allows the mind to drain away the sludge, dear sister. You sound like you could use a few hours yourself."

Donna agreed and turned off the television, preferring to stretch out on the couch. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, dreaming of men in dark costumes with German accents.