Disclaimer: I am not making any money out of this and copyright infringement is not intended.

Author's Note: The next few chapters will be flashbacks as Diana tells her story to J'onn.

Chapter Six

The Man in the Black Mask

The sky was slowly dimming, the last hues of blue against the light spatter of white, feathery clouds slowly being embraced by a dark blanket that was the night sky. Below, ordinary people crammed the streets as one by one they escaped the confines of their offices, their white-collar jobs, to return to the comfort of their family, or just let go of the stress with some friends or colleagues, after all it was a Friday night.

And the more the darkness came, when shadows occupied almost every corner, when the alleys hidden within the city was now the business center of the crime laden city, a lone figure waited for the call of his duty.

The man in the dark mask waited.

He made himself one with the shadows, one with the darkness.

He had to be invisible from the eyes of crime and everyone else if he was to succeed in his plans.

It was a plan that took him years of his life to finally realize the purpose, to understand and accept. He had to feel, had to experience what was felt everyday by the people who belonged to the other side of his world, who did not have the privilege to belong in his elite part of the city.

And now, after going through his temporary hell and back, there was this strong need to protect the innocent, to save what and whom he could, to make a difference when no one else could, and no one else wanted to.

To make sure that no other child lost his parents to crime.

It was time for the sacrifice, his sacrifice.

Yes, it was a sacrifice. Because he would be devoting a great part of his life to this new endeavor. And that meant he would have to forego, he would have to surrender the chance at an ordinary life.

The man clothed in black craned his neck slightly, his attention becoming more focused, when something particular caught his eye. A bearded man, made more suspicious by his street get up, paused momentarily to stomp on a cigar, and then pass by the street below as he looked from the rooftop of the National museum. But he lost sight when the man turned on a corner.

Tuning his attention back to the street, his eyes were once again fixed on observing the people, looking for signs of something out of the ordinary. He planned on doing this all night because he was able to extract an information from a very hesitant source that there was going to be some trade off happening this evening.

The muscles of his arm flexed, his fingers clasping and unclasping in anticipation of what might transpire that evening.

He would be waiting for them.

And he was more than ready.

She was not of the dark. But tonight, darkness was her ally. Its protection cloaked her from everything else, hiding her in its black embrace. And like a predator on the prowl, slowly but accurately she gracefully moved, flew swiftly from one place to another without the least being detected by anyone else.

Secrecy was a very essential part of her mission. No one outside of the island, her home, except for a chosen family, a chosen man, should know about her being here in Patriarch's World. And her mission was simple enough: Return the very precious book they used to gather essential knowledge from, that she now held securely in her arms as she flew, and seek the help of one man, the man from the stars.

Hours passed and still no sign of any irregular activity. People on the street got fewer and fewer, the sounds of the night getting weaker and weaker until all that was left were distant sound of cars moving, and the faint echoes of footsteps.

It was already way past midnight. And still, no sign of movement.

He gave the area one quick sweep and thought that the information he obtained was wrong, or that the perpetrators might have re-scheduled. A smirk appeared on his face but it was concealed by his mask. Even criminals could be superstitious and maybe tonight was not a good night for business.

Nothing was going to happen. Not, at least, what he was expecting when he heard the faintest sound. Footsteps and the soft sound of rustling fabric.

Moving himself back and more into the darkness in the shadow embraced corner of the rooftop, he saw a figure, a tall man, hidden in a silk black cloak. The hooded figure was moving slowly, carefully to the emergency exit door in the middle of the roof as it attempting to enter.

Once the back was turned to him, he took this opportunity to stealthily come up behind the other man.

"The entrance is downstairs." His deep, intimidating and threatening voice cut through the silence.

He could sense a sudden tenseness but it was soon gone when the figure in black slowly bent forward to reach for something. Every single muscle, every nerve on his body was now alert, preparing for anything that might happen, his mind anticipating an attack or a use of weapon. Then the other faced him. Still, he could not see a face.

A quick observation told him that the man did not reach for a weapon but instead left a package that might contain something dangerous. Then the figure slowly turned to the right and moved away slowly, ignoring him completely.

"Where do you think you're going?"

His question fell on deaf ears when the other man seemed to ignore his presence completely. Using his training, he swiftly moved to block the way of the other as they neared the shadows.

The figure finally halted.

Now face-to-face, just a few feet away from each other, the two appeared to be sizing each other up. But all he could assess was the height, a little less than six feet. Everything else was hidden in the heavy protection of the dark cloak.

Then out of nowhere, and at a surprising display of agility and speed, a leg raised to aim a roundhouse kick to at his face, the fabric swooshing with the sudden movement. But with quicker reflexes, he was able to dodge the assault, bending his torso backwards.

A series of palm heel strikes followed and he immediately lifted his arms to deflect the blows to prevent them from landing a crucial hit to the head. And with his opponent now in the attack, he backed off to the right avoiding the misfortune of being trapped between the attacker and the ledge that was now only a few feet away.

Now with more space to maneuver, he was able to block a right middle punch with a left middle block and make a swift counter right middle punch. But when his fist connected with the middle section of his opponent, it felt like his hand hit something harder than the average human flesh.

His surprise was to his disadvantage when his opponent took advantage of the fleeting moment to grab his hand to flip him over and his back hit the hard floor with a painful thud. But there was no room for the sting as his mind calculated, expecting an immediate kick to the groin that would incapacitate him for a good many seconds so he abruptly pushed himself up. And to his surprise the enemy was not anymore on the attack but was turned away from him to try and escape once more again.

Grabbing the enemy's neck from behind with his right arm, he was able to entrap his opponent in a chokehold. Applying more force, the enemy struggled. And from his position, he saw a left hand lift to pull at his arm.

He was slightly distracted by what he saw.

The hand that pulled at him was smooth, the fingers long and slender. A female's hand.

To prove this recent and surprising discovery, his left hand suddenly moved to the enemy's chest. Under his gloved hand was not a hard chiseled chest but he felt the generous shape of a breast.

The revelation that his opponent was a female caught him off guard. Because of this he was unable to notice that the right hand of the assailant was holding a short knife. A tearing pain gripped at him when his enemy made a diagonal slice to his right arm that was followed by a quick head butt.

It felt like being hit with an iron bar to the head.

With blurred vision he fell a few steps back as his left hand grabbed onto the coat, tearing a small piece in the process. Recovering from the onslaught of pain, he was about to lunge forward again when the figure turned abruptly. For an instant, he got a faint glimpse of her upper face. Lacking enough light, all he could see was the vague image of her eyes. They were beautiful eyes.

Stunned, he was not able to move and the female took the opportunity to escape, swiftly disappearing into the darkness. He ran to the ledge in pursuit of the mysterious woman but his injury prevented him from going further than the low barrier of the ledge. His eyes scanned the street below and where his eyes could not see his ears searched for the distant echoes of footsteps. Nothing, there was nothing. As if she disappeared into thin air. As if she flew away.

Turning back to the scene he walked to where the rectangular package lay quietly, just below the emergency exit door. It was wrapped in some kind of light brown, paper-like material that was secured by a twine that was tied up in front. Inspecting the object more closely, he knelt with his right knee and leaned forward, listening to any distinguishing sound that might give him a clue if the package contained a bomb.

Hearing no familiar ticking, he precariously lifted the heavy object, judging it to measure close to twelve by ten inches and about five inches thick. Pulling at the twine, he carefully unfolded the wrapper to reveal what was inside.

It was neither a bomb, nor any kind of weapon. It was the Book of English Translation of the Ancient Greek Language.

If the cut in his right arm did not sting that much he would have laughed at the whole incident. All of this happened because the thief who stole the book from the museum a few nights ago just came back to return what she stole. She could have just used the library if she wanted to learn the Greek language.

Re-wrapping the book, he would just have to come up with an idea on how it was returned. In the process, his eyes caught sight of the black fabric he was able to tear from her cloak. Carrying the book with his left arm, he stood up and picked the small piece of silk with his right hand.

Who are you? His mind asked as he felt the smooth fabric.

All he saw were her eyes but he could not judge if they were green or blue.

And the cloak. It was black, effective in hiding in the darkness. Not to mention very intimidating.

Looking at the angry red mark underneath the torn garment he wore, a smirk appeared on his face.

Alfred needs to design a uniform, hopefully with a knife proof material. And he wanted a cape, a dark as night cape.