Chapter 3: Flight

Menalippe glared suspiciously at Bruce's toy. She eyed it as if it were viper preparing to strike, instead appealing to Diana. "Your Highness, you could fly us there, or we could travel as Amazons do- on a horse or on our own two feet."

Diana, who'd gratefully accepted Wayne Enterprises' offer of tea and biscuits, lounged at a table while Bruce laughed with some other staff in the hangar. She sipped her tea, amused at the snippets of conversations she caught. Bruce was definitely talking about them, gesturing toward herself and her aunt, and elbowing the other men, who howled. She rolled her eyes.

"My dear aunt, I prefer not to fly around Man's World so flippantly. It disturbs people, and if one doesn't avoid the clouds, you simply end up cold and soaked. I rely on that particular skill in emergency situations."

Menalippe finally sat at the table with Diana, turned her baleful gaze on the biscuits and tea, ignoring them for now. "I can't imagine what your mother would have had done if that particular ability had surfaced while you still resided on the island." She kept a sharp eye on Bruce and the machine she suspected would be the end of her.

Diana smiled. "I almost wish it had, at times. The lessons I could have escaped. It would have given me some thread of advantage over Antiope."

Menalippe's face softened. "She believed training you was the most important task of her life, Diana," she said. "Though, I am sure if we could ask her now, she would say that saving you was even more important."

Diana sighed, setting her tea down gently. "I have spent over one hundred years agonizing over that moment. My first moment in battle, and I was so unaware, overwhelmed by it all. If only I had kept my wits, perhaps she would still be alive. Or perhaps I w0uld have been able to deflect the bullet, or perhaps on me, it would not have been lethal. Perhaps I could have healed quickly enough to live."

Menalippe waved it all off. "Useless thoughts, my lady. Antiope met her fate with grace, and she made her choice." The warrior caved, poured herself some tea. "I miss her too. Every day."

Diana's gaze followed Bruce as he boarded the sleek black ship. Once he wasn't visible anymore, she turned to her aunt. "What do you think she would say," Diana wondered, "about her one true love leaving Themyscira forever?"

Unexpectedly, Menalippe grinned. "Nice try, princess, but I have no doubt that if she still lived, Antiope would, after plenty of soul-searching about leaving her beloved sister behind, volunteer to accompany me. Together, we would search for you, fight at your back on whatever mission the gods lay at our feet. And since she is not here, that is what I will do."

"What we will do."

Menalippe jumped slightly in her chair while Diana hid a knowing smirk behind her teacup. '"Is your toy satisfactory, Mr. Wayne?" she asked, cutting of Menalippe from whatever she'd been about to say.

He nodded, solemn again now that the audience had withdrawn. "It's a prototype, and has passed all the initial safety tests. And if the owner says he intends to take it out to show two beautiful women a bird's-eye-view of Europe, that's what happens. Ladies, after you." He hefted his backpack, gestured for them to go on ahead.

With a long-suffering sigh, Menalippe stood, prepared to march on board. "It's like a boat," they heard her say. "A boat that flies." And like an Amazon, charged straight into the fray.

Bruce and Diana followed behind her. "It's a lovely ship," Diana commented. "Reminds me of something a friend of mine might appreciate."

Bruce nearly smiled. "He has enough toys. We're calling this type of ship a Javelin. Unlike a plane, this ship can hover, and hopefully, future iterations will capable of high-level cloaking and space flight."

"Impressive," Diana commented, looking around. The door folded up behind her, and she noted that it was more spacious than it looked from the outside. Menalippe had already take a seat and strapped herself in. Her aunt's eyes were slammed shut, and she was murmuring to herself. Diana caught snippets of a prayer to Athena, and wondered, is someone listening now?

"I'm glad you approve," Bruce said, inwardly annoyed that it was true. He strapped himself into the pilot's seat while Diana took co-pilot. He thought about Steve Trevor, the pilot, but refrained from comment. Diana had 100 years in this world now... he didn't doubt she'd had time to learn many skills...and the few days she'd had with Steve wouldn't have been enough time and why was he still thinking about Steve Trevor? He charted a course toward Mount Olympus, asked Diana to look it over while he did the pre-flight check.

"Will you need to land at one of the airports nearby? Thessaloniki or Kozani, perhaps?"

Satisfied with everything he saw, Bruce fired up the engine and guided them out of the hanger and into the air. He pretended not to hear Menalippe shrieking. Once they were on course, he set the autopilot and sat back.

"There's no need. The Javelin can cloak, so we've no need to check in. It can also hover, so we can get as close to the peak as we like and jump out. Then, I can land it at the base and call it up by remote once we are ready to leave again. We will be there in just over an hour."

Diana's eyes shot up, and she glanced out, watching the ground below fly by. "It's fast then," she said with approval. "And is this not a much warm and more comfortable way to travel, aunt?"

Menalippe grunted, eyes still shut as she adjusted to the sensation of flying. "The gods could have waited for us to procure horses and ride up like warriors. Or for the train, even. They've waited this long after all."

Diana smiled. "You are safe, Menalippe, and this part will be over quickly. You can get up, move around if you wish."

The Amazon eased her eyes open, looked around with suspicion. A glance toward the cockpit sent the blood draining from her face. She shook her head. "I will stay right here."

"Very well. May I bring you anything?"

Menalippe shook her head. "I will meditate and pray to the gods. Pay me no mind." She shut her eyes again, became still.

Diana shrugged, unfastening her own seatbelt and stretching her legs. As she walked around the open area behind the cockpit, judging the space available, an idea came to her, one that would serve everyone, perhaps especially her aunt. "So, Mr. Wayne, how trustworthy is the autopilot? Must you watch it carefully?"

In answer, Bruce unfastened his own belt, walked over to the wall fridge in the back, and tossed Diana a bottle of water. Menalippe ignored them both, so he returned the favor. "Why do you ask?" he wondered, sipping a bottle of his own.

Diana's grin went straight through his ribs, sent his heart racing.

"Might you indulge me in some hand-to-hand? There is space enough, I think."

Bruce saw Menalippe's eyes pop open indignantly, her lips separate to protest, but Diana interrupted her aunt.

"What do you say, Bruce?"

And the mischief dancing in her eyes proved too much for him. He slid out of his shoes and socks, tossed his grey sweater towards the cockpit, and began stretching. "I could use a work out," he agreed.

Diana's back was to her aunt, but Bruce enjoyed a clear view of the other Amazon's expression- one part hurt, one part outrage, one part pure bafflement. He didn't smirk at Menalippe, but it took some effort.

Diana toed off her own boots and socks, and tested the flexibility of her leggings and sweater dress with some stretches and practice kicks, grateful she'd elected not to wear jeans. Satisfied, she slid into a fighting stance. "No blows to the head," she proposed.

Bruce nodded, bending his knees. "No weapons or flying." He knew now that she could summon her sword, shield, bracelets, and lasso in an instant. Unlike Superman, she often appeared to obey the laws of physics, but he knew she could break them, knew that hint of divine magic in her blood aided her.

"Point sparring? Or shall we have contact?" She offered the choice to him, knowing that she had the advantage in strength and healing speed. Point sparring was traditionally no-contact, but could be just as impressive to watch because of the control needed to stop the move centimeters before striking your opponent.

Bruce considered how much he trusted Diana- true, they had not sparred before today, but she was a trained warrior with literally thousands of years under her belt. His own training was hard to rival among mortals. Together, they should be able to avoid truly injuring each other. But he was aware that barring his speed and intellect, Diana could definitely hurt him; she had the advantage in strength.

His usual additional advantages against metas were his weapons, his armor, his "toys" as Diana said. But if powers were out of the picture, Bruce and Diana were much more evenly matched; Superman had no combat training- he'd fought with his brute strength and his powers, not with strategy and years of training as Bruce did.

Perhaps Diana and the Man of Steel would be more evenly matched, as far as metas went. But no use considering that, since Clark was dead and Diana was waiting for an answer.

"Contact," he said. She nodded seriously, and he thought he read respect in her eyes. "Except to the head. First to three, wins."

"You're a fool, Bruce Wayne," Menalippe said from behind Diana, still strapped into her seat. But her eyes were open; she was interested.

"If he was a fool," Diana said with a smile, "then I would be assured of victory. Thankfully, he is not." She clicked her heels, bowed to him slowly while holding his gaze. He mirrored her, and before she'd straightened, he attacked.

It was like their dancing last night, he realized, in that she let him lead. She dodged his kick, spun away from the punch combo, ducked under his follow up kick, and stepped back, bouncing on her feet. His mind calculated her as just slightly faster than him, and he attacked again, switching from taekwondo to judo in an instant. Diana didn't attempt to evade his grapple, but punched him in the gut while his arms were busy. He grunted, took the hit, and hooked her leg with his own, sending them both to the ground with his forearm in her windpipe.

"One point to each," Menalippe announced unnecessarily.

Bruce rolled away from her as she jumped to her feet. She'd pulled her punch, but his diaphragm was still spasming. Straightening his body as he rolled helped. By the time he hopped to his feet, she was lunging. He spun away, threw a kick at her ribs, but she danced away, planted her feet, then leapt into a double kick, her war cry filling the room. He dodged the first, but the second would have crashed into his jaw if she hadn't pulled it at the last second. The sudden change had her crashing to the floor-

"Point to Diana!" Menalippe shouted.

-so Bruce dropped an honest-to-god elbow drop into her ribs. She grunted, threw him off-

"Point to the mortal!"

-and he managed to brace himself before crashing into the shelves, rolling to his feet in time to meet her barrage of chops, kicks, and punches. He analyzed as he blocked each, looking for an opening, not noticing the blows. When he glimpsed his chance, he threw a kick, but she caught his leg, so he lunged forward, grabbed her shoulder and head and threw his whole weight at her, attempting to knee her in the gut to escape the hold, but she let his momentum help her throw him to the ground. He landed in a crouch in front of Menalippe, went on his own offensive, letting the moves take over his body, the analysis take over his mind. Time lost meaning.

She dodged or blocked his every move. And he thought, watching her face tighten in concentration, her quick sling of the sweat from from her eyes, she is breathtaking. Then he growled and lunged at her, wrapping her up like a football player. But, she'd anticipated him, managed to hook one arm between his thighs and use his momentum to flip him and drop him on his back with a roar. Menalippe shouted something, and in the same moment, though his breath was knocked away, Bruce managed to kick Diana's knees out, sending her crashing down on top of him like a lover. Because he could do math, he found himself holding her like one, arms coming up around her to hold her steady. He could feel her heart pounding against his, felt her rapid breaths against his own chest, her breath against his ear. Her pulse tapped against her throat; his eyes followed that long neck, regal jaw, high cheekbones, and rested in her gaze.

Menalippe said something, but her words were meaningless, because Diana, draped on top of him, hair matted against her face, make-up running... Diana met his eyes and grinned.

Bruce swallowed, and for the first time in years, his mind went blessedly blank.

"We..." Diana said, winded, "... must do that again... Properly."

"Yes...You were... holding back," he said, aware of every inch of her body touching his. He desperately tried to look away from her lips and focus on the solid biceps under his hands and how she could kill him with them. He imagined how easy it would be for her in hopes that other, more rogue parts of his body would behave in the face of his own mortality. It did help, especially when he remembered that her kick that would have broken his jaw at the very least if she hadn't pulled it.

Thankfully, she hefted herself off of him, and stood. He accepted her offered hand and stood as well. "Of course I was," she said, holding on to his hand an bowing over it. "I do not want to harm you. And I did not hold back in speed- you are very fast in your own right, Bruce." She released his hand, but held his eyes with her own.

She was faster, he knew, but still savored the impressed tone of her voice. "Good thing, too," he said, rubbing the jaw she would have broken. She smiled again, through those long eyelashes, and time stumbled again.

Menalippe cleared her throat, and the unspoken tension in the room popped.

"The match goes to the princess," she announced, but studied Bruce with new respect. "As the rule was first to three. The mortal got to three several seconds too late. But you, Bruce Wayne. You must be more than who you say you are. Where is it you said you were from?"

He cracked his neck, tried to shake out some of his limbs, snuck a look at Diana. She shrugged, as if to say, it's up to you.

"Gotham," Bruce said, locating some bar towels and tossing some to Diana. He wiped his forehead, neck, arms, and waited.

"Gotham," Menalippe mused, then snapped her fingers. "The human announcers... they said your city is full of crime, that a masked vigilante lives there, calls himself the Batman." She smirked, connecting the dots.

"To be fair," Bruce said, "I never actually called myself that."

Diana wiped her own brow, tied her hair back. "As I said, Menalippe, Bruce is a warrior in his own right. But his identity as Batman is secret, known to a trusted few. The safety of many innocent people in Gotham City depend upon it remaining secret."

Menalippe heard the unspoken in Diana's words. "Very well, Bruce Wayne," she said, studying him with new eyes. "I will guard your secret. And I will trust you. For now. Your fighting skills impress me; it was uncanny how you seemed to anticipate Diana. I am impressed that you got any hits in at all."

"Well, she was holding back," Bruce said.

"Of course she was," Menalippe scoffed.

Diana smiled, as comfortable with her victory as she was with its narrow margin. That, after all, had been a necessary part of the demonstration's original purpose- impressing her aunt.

"Bruce was holding back too," Diana said. He startled, glancing at her. She shrugged, still serene. "In a fair contest, you would not actually fight fairly," she said, pleased with the play on words. "I may have several advantages over Bruce Wayne, but against Batman, Wonder Woman would be fairly evenly matched."

Menalippe scoffed again, and Bruce almost smiled. "Sure. Until you called down the thunderbolts of the gods or decided to simply fly away," he said. Though Alfred was working a new armor design with Diana's lightning in mind.

Diana grinned. "Nothing wrong with an honorable retreat to regroup against a worthy foe."

Menalippe saw Antiope in Diana's grin the same way she'd seen Antiope in many of Diana's techniques, a connection she reflected on with pride. But Menalippe also recognized the way Diana and Bruce had looked at each other, limbs tangled, heaving as they tried to catch their breath... she recognized the look in her niece's eyes. It had been a sparring match where Antiope and Menalippe had first kissed, after all. She would have to watch this man, the Batman, very carefully.

Bruce had walked into the cockpit to check their location. "Not long now," he said.

XXX

Once the Javelin was hovering over the mountain, they discussed their plan. They would start at the summit and head down. The Javelin could be called up by remote in the case of an emergency, or if they needed more food or water. The hike could be done in a single day in a hurry, two if not. Bruce had revealed that he had a spare suit in his backpack, with a grapple and stocked utility belt. Diana had smiled, not surprised in the slightest. Menalippe revealed her own armor underneath the loose street clothes, and Diana had seemed to go from sweater dress to Amazonian champion armor in the blink of an eye. Her sword and shield were fastened at her back, lasso resting at her hip. Both women sported long warm cloaks to ward off the chill of elevation.

"Any idea what to expect down there?" Bruce asked Menalippe.

She shrugged. "The Oracle's words were few."

Diana stood at ease at the Javelin's open side door. "No specification that I come alone," she reminded herself aloud. "No sense in delaying the inevitable." She glanced at her compatriots. "I'd ask if either of you wanted a lift, but it's honestly not that far. This machine is remarkable." And she'd simply hopped out. Bruce watched as she seemed to fall at normal speed until slowing at the last instant. Her feet set gently down on the summit trail. She really didn't make a habit of flying, he noticed, filing that information away.

He brought the Javelin down a bit so he and Menalippe could follow suit, then he sent the Javelin down to cloak itself and charge.

"Why are you doing this dressed that way?" Menalippe wondered, gesturing towards his Bat regalia.

Bruce, voice modulator on, said, "It's warm."

Diana laughed. Menalippe shrugged.

Bruce looked around, seeing nothing outside of the ordinary- though had he spoken aloud, Diana might have reminded him that the view at the summit of Olympus was anything but ordinary. Bruce said, "I imagine we are not here simply to appreciate the view and commune with nature."

Diana nodded, looking around, taking in it all. "This mountain is sacred, but according to legend, the gods exist primarily on another plane of reality. What we see may not be all that exists here. If they are truly returning to power... we will only see the gods if they wish us too."

Together, they began to carefully navigate the peak, circling the area near the top and beginning to pick their way down. Diana especially took a long study of the view with an awed expression, with just a hint of longing before heading down.

"Which ones blessed you, Diana?" Bruce wondered as they climbed.

She smiled, testing a foothold before heading down. Not for herself, he knew, since she could fly and catch herself, but for him. He was coming down after her, with Menalippe up ahead. Though, Bruce had fallen off of enough high places to always prepare.

"Hera, for she is Queen of the Gods, and Zeus, of course, for he gave me life." Menalippe snorted, but Diana didn't delve into the logistics, and Bruce didn't ask. "But my official patrons are Athena, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hestia, Demeter, and Hermes."

Bruce filed the knowledge away, ticking off various characteristics- wisdom, hunting, beauty, home, nature, and speed/flight- as she listed the deities. It all tracked. The rest of his mind focused on observing his surroundings-listening for sounds that didn't fit, looking around and cataloging what he saw, minding his companions. They wandered the summit, slowly picking their way down for about a half hour in focused silence.

Diana stopped heading downward. She wandered toward an outcropping, crouching down near the edge, taking in the view. Before Bruce could finish inwardly mocking himself for wanting to tell her to not to get so close to the edge, she wasn't alone there.

"Diana!" he barked, sensing Menalippe tense at his left. Diana, understandably unconcerned with falling, shot to her feet. Her fighting stance dissolved into a kneel almost immediately.

"My lord, you honor us," she said, and the figure coalesced into a wiry young man with shaggy blond hair and golden skin, sporting winged sandals, a long white tunic belted with gold, and a winged helm.

"Hermes?" Menalippe remained on her feet, utterly dumbfounded.

The young man barely spared a glance for her and Bruce, instead focusing on Diana at his feet. "My dear sister," he said, and Bruce would have qualified it as gushing, "What in Gaia's name was that miraculous machine you rode here?"