V
Virtue Fell
:::
September 1st, 2016: Central Metropolis
(Metropolis, New York)
It was a week before she heard from Clark again. A warped stretch of time that seemed to bleed into her day and etch away at the carefully mounted plan that had been forced upon her. Yet, somewhere at the back of Diana's mind was a nagging suspicion that something was about to happen.
That something was about to rear it's ugly head, Just my luck, Diana thought to herself. It wasn't so much that it was predictable, it was the fact that it was darn right true. Clark Kent had tried to kiss her a week ago tonight, Superman, the prodigal son of tomorrow, the enemy. Her mission. She had seen it in his eyes, that wild almost primal look that reminded her of the beast that Luthor had been all so willing to teach her about. Diana had heard that one could die from curiosity; because allegedly it killed the cat, but she had never dreamt that her death would be at the hands of someone who had just happened to glance her way.
Clark's concern for her had been truly sickening, had burned itself into Diana's brain like an image that she could not shake, no matter how hard she tried. Metallo had just been a reminder of that, a liability.
The scrap between Metallo and Superman had done more than made the headlines, the story had created a media frenzy and the newspaper companies had enjoyed a triumphant field day at best.
Looking back on it later, Diana thought she should have known trouble was coming. But, in Metropolis, anything could be trouble. The impossible was possible. Your boss doesn't show up for work? Probably got kidnapped by some deranged Meta-freak. Take out forgets to put onions on your hamburger? The regular onion-delivery guy disappeared - again, probably due to the vengeful beasts of the city; of the enemies that The Justice League Of America had made, bastards who took it out on the innocent rather than settle their score with the person who pissed them off in the first place. They were all cowards and the quarreling between them disgusted Diana.
It was hard to imagine how Diana's day - even by Metropolis standards - could get any worse . . .
Diana sighed, wedging the cellphone closer to her ear, the weather today was miserable. The rain was absent and so crisp it hurt the lungs. Luthor was not helping one bit, his voice was a consistent nag down the line and Diana had to fight to stop herself from clicking the device off altogether.
"What exactly is it that I'm waiting for?" Diana asked, trying not to sound as infuriated as she felt. As she walked, people noticed her. She didn't like that, but she was use to it. For as long as she could remember she'd always stood out physically - tall, raven haired and slender - and it wasn't a foreign concept to have people focus on her and whistle or just plain stare.
"As I told you before, Diana." Luthor breathed, "Wait under the colonnades, Superman will be coming out for his lunch break in exactly five minutes."
Diana checked her watch. Quarter to Eleven in the a.m. - and she really didn't know if she could wait him out any longer, truth be told she didn't want to see him. It wasn't that she was afraid of him or maybe that was only half true - but she didn't like the way her heart reacted to being in the mere physical presence of him. Didn't like the feeling she got in her stomach by the very mention of his name.
"And then what am I to do, materialize before him out of thin air?" Diana hissed, ducking under the colonnade that rested a good five meters away from the Daily Planet's headquarters.
If Luthor detected the edge in her voice he didn't acknowledge it. "Along those lines."
"What does that even mean?"
Luthor laughed down the line, the sound so chipper that it instantly set her blood a flush for all the wrong reasons. "You're a smart woman, Diana. You'll think of something."
She understood then. "And after this you will give me the photograph?"
Luthor snorted sternly, all traces of the chuckling bastard from before gone. "You will be attending Bruce Wayne's gala tomorrow night. As a special agent of MetaHuman Affairs it is only logical that the counsel offer premium access to the most representational of companies." he disclosed, mindlessly, and flawlessly dodging the question. "I will see to it that Henrietta makes you a dress that even the Goddess Of Love herself will be envious of."
Diana frowned, mulling over the foreign name in her mind. She'd never heard of a Henrietta before - much less encountered anyone of that name for that matter. "Who's Henrietta?" Diana demanded low in her throat, sweet as grits and poisoned as molasses.
"Henrietta is a personal contact of mine, she tailors my suits."
"Of course." Diana murmured sharply, popping her head out briefly to see if Kent had made an appearance yet.
"Oh, and uh . . . Diana." Luthor continued, gracelessly. "You won't be needing your glasses."
The sentence almost knocked the wind right out of her. Diana swallowed a cold bubble of panic and tried to make her voice sound at least partly under control. "I don't understand." she finally said on a hissing breath, angry because she was scared and hating it.
"Let's just say I want you to be looking the best that you can be. It's no secret that your beauty is ethereal." Luthor went on listlessly, Diana didn't didn't particularly want a pep-talk. She wanted to curl up in her warm bed back at the Casanova Hotel, pull pillows over her head, and sleep until she couldn't breath anymore. Better yet she wanted to throttle Luthor until his measly bobble head popped from his shoulders, and then some.
Diana let out an even breath, grasping for that significant ounce of control. "But won't that cause speculation?" she queried after a hard-thought mental battle, her voice toneless, her eyes still trained on the graying pavement before her.
"It won't when your not a cause for concern." Luthor explained. "You see, deary. The secret to taming men of this generation is quite simple really; were all fooled by a pretty face. Even that of an abomination like Superman."
"So, by that I take it Clark Kent will be at this . . . soirée." Diana concluded, she was use to speaking formally with Luthor.
"Much like DOMA; The Daily Planet always has premium access to these social gatherings for lack of a better word." Luthor rushed out, erratically. "So in answer to your question, yes, Superman will be present at the Wayne Gala."
Diana went silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. The way she saw it, it was all cards on the table, no miscellaneous option of flight just fight. "Cheer up, Diana." Luthor drawled, and she could picture him smiling now. "Think of it as an experiment. One giant step towards what we really want, eh? a step towards eliminating the problem."
Click.
Diana opened up her mouth for one last ditch attempt to protest, but it was no use; she knew he was already gone. Not even a second later Diana's ears picked up on a familiar heartbeat heading just three o'clock of where she was stood. Straight toward her. Her head peaked out to spot him, he seemed to be in the depths of chatting amicably to an excitable looking red haired fellow, who she guessed could be no older than twenty five.
He was freckly looking, and by the look on Clark's face she could tell that he was most definitely infuriating. The kid was virtually a fetus, stumbling and chortling his way through Wall Street.
Diana squared her shoulders and sucked in a breath before starting toward the pair with flippant ease. The cardboard Mille-Fueielle cup felt like a second skin under her grasp, and the afternoon downfall was only serving to make it more so if that was even possible. Luthor had been right as usual, Diana Prince always knew what to do.
Contingency plan set firmly in motion - but contrary to popular belief what happened next was an accident. In fact it happened so quickly, that not even Diana herself could've foreseen it.
The unstoppable force met harmoniously with the immovable object.
Diana's whole being seized up as the muggy warmth of her coffee splashed up against her, ruining the fresh ivory of her blouse. The paper cup slipping forth from her hand, before slapping the pavement like damp newspaper against drying tarmac.
Diana frowned, watching with increasing irritation as the remaining remnants of her black, with two sugared decaf darkened her blouse and then she went still, squeezing her hands together in the most bizarre moment she'd ever experienced.
She heard laughter, then an all too familiar thick voice saying, "Oh God, I'm so sorry . . ."
Clark's first reaction had been to wrench the person against him, a natural instinct to protect. But it only served to awkwardly squash them together, very near sending them both crashing breathlessly toward the sidewalk.
"Here, let me help you." Clark continued, when a familiar pair of dainty hands came up to stop his. "I'm . . ." Clark froze, his mortified grimace fading as he glanced up in recognition, a smile that almost stopped her heart lighting up his face. This time, his great blue eyes studied her with warm intensity, his body gravitating towards her like she was the center of the fucking universe. "Diana, what are you doing here?"
Diana smiled tightly, "Your boss, Perry White. He wanted me to come back in for a one to one."
Clark blanched for a suspended second, and his gaze flit back to her ruined top. The fabric clung to her chest like a lover, leaving little to the imagination and Clark suddenly felt hot, the heat threatening to make it to his cheeks as well as other places. Clark cleared his throat, "Diana, I'm sorry, I . . ."
Diana put up a hand, successfully silencing a rambling Clark. "That's enough," she said, "It's fine."
There was a pause, a misplaced anchor waiting for its ship to accept. The auburn haired man child elbowed Clark, successfully shaking him away from his reverie. "Oh, uh . . . right." Clark began, flustered. Diana almost rolled her eyes. Gods, Men were such feeble beasts. Diana took a frustrated breath, and then another. This man really had the clumsy reporter farce down to a T. "Diana, this is Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy this is Diana Prince."
Jimmy's smile was pooched and flirtatious, and Diana didn't know what to do, other than stare right back. He grabbed eagerly for her hand, giving it a firm shake. "James to the ladies." he remarked, and Diana could see him trying to connect the dots. His eyes glinted with bits of amber and noir when he looked back to Clark. "Wait, as in the Agent Prince that you were -"
"Diana is a diplomat." Clark cut off, having no idea what to call what she was to him, and putting a stop to whatever foolishness Jimmy was about to say. Jimmy packed it in immediately, clasping his hands together in a motion that told her that he was feeling awkward.
There was another pensive pause.
Clark cleared his throat, and waited for Diana's gaze to flick away briefly before nudging Jimmy. Jimmy jumped, leveling Clark with his stare, and furrowing his red brows in bemusement. "Jimmy, do you think you could ah . . . give me and Agent Prince a minute. There's some papers that we need to discuss before she runs them by Perry." Clark explained, then glanced at Diana and continued. "It's for confidential matters."
Diana's heart lurched, before running a sprint in her chest.
Jimmy looked at Clark, mystified. Clark pursed his lips and squinted, shooting Jimmy a hard look. He was clearly intent on the exchange unfurling before him, the kid choked out a laugh. "Fine," Jimmy said, with cheerful ire, naivety enabling him from catching on. "See you soon, freak. Wish I didn't have to, sometimes, but there you go."
Clark let out a breathy little laugh, half-amused at seeing Jimmy so unnerved when he walked away and fell back into the stream of bodies shuffling up and down the avenue. When he was out of sight, Clark straightened himself and turned back to face Diana.
She sucked in a breath, and nearly blanched at the intensity in Clark eyes. "I was just gonna go out and grab some lunch." Clark murmured. "Do you . . . uh . . . wanna come?" he offered, with a quirk of a smile. Diana parted her lips, her glasses were smoked with fog and behind them her eyes peered out suspiciously, pale-blue and bitter. "It's the least that I can do after . . ." Clark trailed off, gesturing toward the ruined remains of home brewed decaf and sopping cardboard.
Diana let out a sharp breath, like she realized she'd just made a mistake. "I already told you, it's fine Clark."
Clark sighed, "Diana."
"I should really get these notes to Perry." Diana persisted, tapping the Balenciaga clutch at her side.
Clark's blue eyes were earnest, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "If I didn't know any better I'd say that you're avoiding me."
Diana felt her jaw lock into stubborn position. "Why would I be avoiding you . . ."
"I don't know you tell me . . ." said Clark, sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable last week. It was inappropriate and unprofessional of me and . . . I apologize."
"It's fine, Clark. We were both vulnerable, and I guess we needed to feel secure. It was only conventional." Diana said, she held his stare for a full five seconds, then looked down. She could almost feel him smiling.
"Is that your word of the day?"
"No." Diana retorted, "Some people actually have a vocabulary that surpasses the basic English language. Μια γλώσσα που δεν γνωρίζουμε είναι ένα φρούριο σφραγισμένο."
Clark looked impressed, "Is that Greek?"
Diana glanced up with a small shrug. "I guess I'm full of surprises."
"That you are." Clark said almost to himself, he smirked, all wide blue eyes and a kind smile. "One drink, Diana. I won't try anything." he paused, his eyes glinting in sincerity. "Scout's honor."
Diana tugged her lip between her teeth, avoiding his eyes. Promises, promises. She thought to herself. Clark in some ways, still had a rose-tinted view of the world and Diana was only just starting to realize that. She was cool on the outside, shaking on the inside, because he was so genuine and that scared her.
"What about the papers?"
"You can always drop them into Perry after, or I can do it for you." Clark reasoned. Diana looked perplexed, and he almost laughed. He cleared his throat, the smile dropping from his face. "Don't worry, Diana. I don't bite." he said softly.
Diana nodded numbly, squaring her shoulders. "I suppose one cup of coffee won't hurt."
Clark let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his lips curled into a grin at the stubbornness on her features. Diana almost scowled, he had won this round, for now. She wasn't sure which of them moved first, but it really didn't matter. Clark Kent was right where she needed him. Her fingers were trembling now, a fine vibration that made her clench them into fists to make them stop.
One drink couldn't hurt, could it?
:::
Gotham, Wayne Manor
Same day . . .
Bruce Wayne was a man of few words, but when he spoke people listened. They say that the most ruthless wars are those without victors. Power plays are the most intense forms of struggle - and Bruce Wayne was not one to go out without a fight, he believed in something better. Of course it had taken some persuasion to get the league one hundred percent behind the plan but in the end he had come out victorious. In all honesty Bruce's only concern was Arthur Curry, the self-entitled merman. The fish had a well-documented history of acting before thinking, at least when it came to the personal safety of those he cared about. There was no time for that, Gotham was burning - at least parts of it anyway.
A humane knock sounded throughout the room, and Bruce swore letting his pen drop. "It's open."
Alfred Pennyworth, his most trusted butler and accomplice stepped in and let the door slip closed. "Master Wayne, there is a visitor here for you."
"Send them in, Alfred." Bruce decreed. Alfred opened the study door and ushered in a man with flaxen hair and serious eyes. The man shuffled into the center of the room, before coming to a halt. "Thank you, Alfred. That'll be all." Bruce dismissed, before offering a noncommittal wave in the air. Alfred nodded and moved away from the door to pick up the coffeepot, before exiting.
The lanky man straightened out his maroon sweater vest before smiling politely. "Good afternoon, Mr Wayne."
Bruce shifted in his seat, unappreciative of his euphemism, and his expression darkened to a glare that was nearly lethal. "J'onn."
The stranger straightened, before fazing into his true form. The green extra terrestrial being that Bruce was accustomed to seeing on monitor duty at The Watchtower. "Ever the detective." J'onn said, with a quirk of a smile. Bruce took a frustrated breath, and the alien paused. "What is it you humans say . . ." J'onn mused. "Trouble in paradise."
Bruce ignored his question. "And to what do I owe the pleasure, J'onn?"
"There's a lead." J'onn announced. J'onn's face held every fear that Bruce felt in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to dismiss him, to shut him down with another terrible taunt, but J'onn had grasped Bruce's undivided attention. Bruce sighed, trying to shake his curiosity.
"Meaning?"
"A body was found this afternoon." J'onn said.
Bruce frowned glancing at J'onn and then J'onn took a deep breath and told Bruce everything. His discoveries, the murder that had transpired this afternoon, the morning before the scandal made headlines, how he could barely think straight because of humanity's anguish screaming through his mind. Bruce took it in until his eyes fell shut. The pain in The Martian's voice . . . the helplessness of his tone. He suddenly felt rage beyond fury, beyond arrogant disagreements back at The Watchtower. His face flamed and his nails bit into the skin of his palm.
J'onn watched as Bruce's mind raced, his eyes went complete black. This truly was beyond a mission . . . beyond a stupid plot to take a bastard like Melvin Reipan down - this was revenge. Bruce lent back into his chair, and pulled out a draw at the side of his desk.
"As you know tomorrow night. I'll be holding a gala here." Bruce said this all to J'onn amidst a fog of unchecked rage, cheeks burning so hot that it surpassed the toils of any mundane fever or winter cold. He reached into his desk, shuffling through a few stray papers before retrieving the source of his forage. He dropped it on his desk before pushing it forward to give J'onn a closer look.
A picture of a woman with dark hair, compelling eyes and beauty beyond anything J'onn had ever had the courtesy of glimpsing stared up at him. "Luthor's secret weapon." Bruce rasped in a light, yet unbelievably menacing tone. "Will be right under our noses."
:::
Birch Coffee, Metropolis
Later that day . . .
Diana peeled off her rain-soaked jacket with a whimper of relief, and shivered as the cool air hit her flushed skin. Clark had disappeared to order their respective meals, no doubt packing on a side dish to match. Secretly, Diana hoped that he'd purchase the fruit pot that she liked, a guilty pleasure of hers. Succulent strawberries and fruitful pineapple slices to soak her taste buds straight into exotic bliss.
Diana licked her lips at the thought, and skeptically surveyed the room. The walls wear a warm mustard with intricate detail, and photographs of the owners plastered in wooden frames across the trails of oak vines that wrapped the intimate little space in a cloak of homeliness - good clientele too. She glimpsed up as Clark sauntered over to their table, a cautious grin on his face.
"Your Chobani." Clark drawled, sliding over the plastic container and setting down the foam cup next to the yogurt. Diana raised an eyebrow when she saw that Clark had already mixed it, drizzling it with fresh fruits, just as she liked. "And one natural brewed mocha decaf, ma'am." Diana fingered the lettering on the pot before pulling back the tarp and popping a segment of blood orange Chobani into her mouth before picking up her spoon.
Time seemed to become a commonplace entity as they talked - they ran over the various mishaps of work at The Daily Planet, and that lead to a discussion about Bruce Wayne's annual gala that was to come the following night. The parties attending were to be The Daily Star alongside other top market paper companies, The Department Of MetaHuman Affairs would also be attending but of course Diana already knew that. She had confirmed to Clark that she would be making an appearance. America's most eligible bachelors would also be there as well as many, many faceless others. Clark even told her that there was to be a queen attending as an Ambassador from a mythical Island named Themyscira.
Themyscira, Diana thought to herself. Tossing the word around in her brain, it seemed familiar. Diana shook her head and sighed softly focusing on the creamy heaven before her. "I really should've changed first." Diana breathed, scooping up bit of yogurt.
"Figures," Clark laughed, lightly. Sliding into the seat opposite her, his mouth went to form another apology but the look that Diana sent him told him to let it go. They sat in silence for a moment before Diana glanced back up at him.
"No fruit pot?" Diana pointed out, she took a sip from her mocha.
"No." Clark breathed. "I just noticed that you seemed to enjoy it when I interviewed you."
Diana sat staring at him with that tender pink mouth slightly open. She quickly composed herself, lest anyone think she was going soft. Her voice dropped when she spoke again. "Impressive, I see that your glasses aren't just a guise to feign brightness."
Clark grinned, leaning forward in his seat. "Did you just compliment me, Prince?"
Diana paused, her lips lifting into an incredulous smile. "Did you just call me Prince?"
Clark laughed, blue eyes gleaming. "Maybe."
"And what do you suppose I call you . . . Kent." Diana challenged.
Clark shrugged a shoulder. "I'm partial to it." he said, "Besides, it's our thing."
"We don't have a thing." She said, Clark seemed to ponder on the idea, ready to voice it when she cut him off. "As for whether I just complimented you, you can take that how you want to. Besides, wouldn't want your ego getting any bigger."
His left eyebrow flew up and he laughed under his breath. "Walked right into that one, didn't I?"
"That you did."
Clark grinned, and she hated it. He was too similar to her to be a proper opponent. He absorbed her insults and played off of them, fueled by her annoyance. But when he spoke, his tone was gentler than ever before. He lifted a hand, passed his fingertips just above hers and inhaled. His hand curled around hers, rough fingers sinking into her tawny skin and his eyes were enigmatic as he said, "It's nice."
Diana's breath rushed out of her lungs, her soft voice going as serious as it had ever been. "What?"
"This." Clark stated, and plucked up his courage. "Look, I don't know what's going on here - or what this whole thing is but it feels good. Doesn't it?"
Diana swallowed and kept her gaze down on their entwined hands. Clark's confession weighing in the air, even stronger than the storm battling outside. She was about to say the honest truth: yes, because she could no more deny the attraction between them than one could deny being deemed guilty to a verdict.
Diana swallowed, pinching her lips together. "Clark -"
"Is there anything else I can get you, Clark?" a velvety voice interrupted, Clark retracted his hand from Diana's glancing up despite himself.
"Uh . . ." Clark breathed, clearing his throat. "We're fine . . thank you, Katherine."
The woman kept smiling, sage eyes fixed on Clark. Diana didn't like the way she was looking at him. It looked - greedy. She studied the mousy blonde's perky smile, the golden ringlets that framed her face in disgust. This Katherine was exactly the kind of girl that would snatch your man right from under you - and play innocent while doing it.
"No refill?" The blonde pressed, letting her pen tap away at her notepad with a hard snap.
"No." Diana answered, bluntly. She raised the cup to her lips, gulping down the beverage in a vain attempt to keep that notorious temper in check. What good would it do her to fly of the coup before going into the finals. The hostess flinched at Diana's cold reception, clearly threatened. Then offered a half-hearted smile, nodded her head a fraction of an inch. "Let me know." she tweeted, before backing away awkwardly.
They sat in silence for a moment before Diana turned to him. "I should go."
Clark held Diana's gaze, "Diana."
"Stop looking at me like that." She finally snapped, her composure faltering. Usually, this would be her point of retreat or pure boredom. But Clark . . . he was something else. Something held her there - something masochistic. She looked up at him with all of the nonchalance she could muster up. "You told me that you wouldn't try anything."
"And I haven't."
Diana let out a sharp breath. "Maybe not physically, but . . ."
"Emotionally." Clark finished for her.
"Yes." Diana continued, her cheeks flushing scarlet immediately. "This is not professional."
"Diana, I didn't intentionally set out to . . ." Clark trailed off, he ran his fingers through his hair so hard that Diana thought he might yank it out. He huffed, and tried again. "I'm a man, you're a woman. We're both adults. There's an attraction between us, it's that simple."
The frustration etched onto Diana's dainty features was almost amusing, but he was smart enough to stifle the chuckle rising in his throat.
"It's not possible, Clark." Diana said, the words harsher than she intended.
"It's more than that though isn't it." Clark stated firmly, his soft voice going as serious as it had ever been, his shift in moods giving her whiplash.
Diana scoffed. "Excuse me?"
"You're afraid." Clark disputed.
"You're wrong."
"There's a word for that Diana. It's called cowardice."
Diana frowned at him, insulted, fists balled up on the table before her. But rather than the coming of World War III, Diana got to her feet gracefully, straightened her blouse, stood looking down at him and smiled a twisted smile which only threw the failed pain in her eyes into greater emphasis.
"Coward." Diana murmured bitterly, gathering up her belongings as she turned from him.
She heard him curse softly under his breath, "Diana." Clark called out. "Wait . . ."
Diana shut her eyes, desperate to insult him, to make him go away. He couldn't see her like this, no one could see her this way. But when her periwinkle eyes fluttered open to meet his increasingly worried gaze, all she could manage to choke out was, "Now I understand."
"Diana." Clark managed to reply, feeling panicked. "I didn't mean that . . ." he stepped closer to her, glancing behind him before two of his fingers found the nape of her neck. For a moment, as he felt how smooth her skin was, he was tempted to press those rose-plumped lips against his. Find out if she tasted as good as she smelt.
"I'm sorry," Clark murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. Diana parted her lips in protest but Clark cut her off. "I'm sorry . . . that wasn't fair."
"This can't happen, Clark" Diana's eyes were cold and dead when she said this and if Clark felt even the slightest sting of rejection, he did not show it.
"It can't?" Clark echoed, like it pained him to let her slip away again. He reached out to tip her chin up, the pad of his thumb brushing her lips.
Diana let out a short breath and pushed away from him. "Stop it." she warned, tucking a stray curl out of her line of fire. "I'll be leaving now, Mr Kent." Diana waited for him to stop her, but he was clearly smart enough to know not to push her. She backed away, already heading out of the door. Clark remained where he was as he grazed a hand against his glabrous chin, letting out an exasperated sigh.
Diana Prince? A ticking time bomb.
And he was going to set her off.
:::
On the other side of Metropolis, Diana stumbled into her hotel room with an ache in her head and a hangover that had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. Clark Kent, bastard. Tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough, and Diana was prepared. Because it was easier to destroy. It was easier to drown in your own charade than open yourself up to the tenderness of others. A harsh breath fell from her lips, it was not a known fact that Diana was prone to awful, short-winded panic attacks. "Breath Diana", she told herself. She swallowed, unclenching her fists when she noticed something resting on her bed. Diana blinked and kicked her shoes off gravitating toward the delivery.
Henrietta's Boutique - the box read. The package was large and a velvet bow of the color orchid rested on top of it. As she gathered up the box, a slip of paper slid out from inside of the Henrietta Wang - a gold sheet marked with the initials L.L. She swallowed when she read the scrawled message below the brand.
"To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy."
Tomorrow night, Wayne's Gala.
~L.L~
Oh, yes.
She most certainly would be there.
(A Really Long) Author's Note: AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Voila, here is chapter 5, Yes . . . I've got some explaining to do. This was a particularly long break between updates, and I'm very very sorry for that. As you guys may not know, I have tons of other stuff going on - like a shop on Etsy, book blogging, and writing a book of my own. So I've been a bit wrapped up in making orders, going to Book Expo Canada, and toying with my original characters and plot lines. Again, I'm so sorry for the delay, and I hope you guys understand. I'm not trying to abandon Cliana. I'll write for as long as you guys want to read - you'll just have to allow me some breaks in between.
Yes, this was a shorter chapter than most - but I really wanted to focus on this one night before the drama begins next chapter! and as you can see it's already starting to rear it's head. And here's some other news: I officially (tentatively) know what's going to happen throughout the entire story now!
On a side note, I just want to thank each and every person who's reviewed this story thus far for their endless support and constructive feedback. You guys are so amazing, and you make me want to write SuperWonder FF until I'm old and gray. I know that there are some of you who never review or only do when I haven't updated - and I still appreciate your readership - but please consider dropping your opinions from chapter to chapter! I really value what you guys have to say, and it's honestly my favorite part of writing fanfiction: working on what you love, and adjusting what doesn't work. So please keep that in mind. :) Also I'd like to reveal that I have a new Superman/Wonder Woman story in the works, it will be called An Unkindness Of Ravens. If you're interested in the plot, just pop me an I.M. Anyway, I talk way too much. Until next time, lovelies! xoxo.
P.S - Next up will be Chapter 6: Within Temptation.