She awoke in a garret smelling of dust burned by too many summers. Her bracelets were off, her lariat gone – all superhero trappings had been stripped.
Fortunately, the villain had neglected to find the credit-card-sized cell phone tucked into Diana's brassiere. Unfortunately, her manacled hands couldn't reach it. Fortunately, it was a voice-activated device. Unfortunately, the mic was somewhat muffled by its position next to her bounteous frontal assets.
In a room nearby, a petite figure in a dun bodysuit was mixing poison. "This'll show them," she grumbled to herself. "Think they're so great with all their powers and brawn. Hmmph! A good dose of brains will best the best of them."
She poured the solution into a Dom Perignon bottle, inserted a cork and wrapped it in wire and foil. "And a dose of this will put them in their place – six feet under!"