Nope

Gotham

It was several hours later and Clark and Dinah's date was coming to an end. After their initial awkward conversations, they had found a rhythm with each other. While they knew each other for several years, this was really the first time they'd sat together and talked. It was what a first date should be, a learning process where you discover the other person. They told some personal stories, some humorous, some not, but basically they were telling each other the story of their lives.

Telling the story of our lives, we do it so often we hardly realize we're even doing it after awhile. Every new job or social situation almost requires it. Dating, it's a must. It's basically saying here's who I am and what experiences I think got me here. It's really a thumbnail sketch of our life. Depending on the situation, we can vary the stories to suit our audience. The interesting part is once you've both told your stories, where does it go? This was the stage Dinah and Clark found themselves in for that last hour.

They were off script and starting to open themselves up to each other. It could be a little frightening, but also exciting at the same time. Little surprises slipped into the conversation and details they wouldn't normally share. Besides the physical attraction this helped both parties as it made them want to go on another date.

They stopped in front of Dinah's door and she reached in for her keys. She smiled at him, thinking how much she'd enjoyed his company. He returned it; almost wishing the night wasn't over.

"I had a wonderful time tonight, Dinah,' Clark began. He wanted to ask now, while his courage was high for a second date, rather than risk it later. "I'd like to do this again, if you're willing?'

"I had a nice time too, Clark and yes, I'd like to go on another date with you," she replied.

"Well, okay then,' he said with a smile.

"This is the point where you kiss me good night, Clark,' Dinah teased, turning to face him.

"Okay."

He moved in, slipping his strong arms around her lithe, yet athletic body. Their eyes held each other as his lips moved down towards hers. Contact. Her arms moved up around his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss. He was more than willing.

"Hubba-hubba, look at you two.' Starling's voice echoed in both their ears. As they slipped away from each other they turned and saw she had opened the door was smirking as she looked at both of them. "I was going to ask if the date went well, but I guess I have my answer."

"I thought you had something to do?' Dinah said through gritted teeth.

"I do, later, remember?"

"Um, well, I guess I'll be going,' Clark offered. "Thanks again, Dinah, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"You don't have to go just yet, Clark,' Dinah replied. "Starling was just leaving."

Dinah grabbed her friend and yanked her out into the hallway.

"Ow, no I wasn't, but if you kids want to continue in your apartment, I can make myself scarce,' Starling said. "I'll be in the kitchen or something, so you to can make out in the living room. No problem."

Dinah glared at Starling and Clark smiled.

"I'll just call it a night I think,' he softly said. "Maybe next time we could try Metropolis, Dinah."

"Metropolis? I love Metropolis,' Starling replied. "Ow!"

"He was talking to me,' Dinah whispered. "All right, Clark, good night and thanks again. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Good night."

He leaned in and quickly kissed her again before heading back down the hallway. Dinah watched him go with a smile on her face. As he rounded the corner and disappeared, she suddenly became aware that Starling was looking at her with a very satisfied smile. Dinah stopped smiling as she turned to her friend.

"What?"

"Rethinking that statement about getting lucky tonight, aren't you?" Starling mused. Dinah turned and walked into the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

"I'll take that as a yes!"

Changes don't always start with monumental things, like lightening strikes or epic battles. Sometimes they begin small, with something so far removed from you where no connection appears to exist. A car accident, a robbery, a random killing, any of these and countless others, can start a chain of events that may or may not impact your life.

Sometimes it can be something as small as forgetting an umbrella or missing a day of school. Each decision you make affects the ones that follow.

Imagine a pebble being tossed into a lake. It goes under and the ripples begin to move outward. No imagine thousands of pebbles being tossed into that same lake and millions of ripples move outward. Eventually those ripples intersect and change each other, creating new ripples and new changes.

One such pebble was about to be tossed into the lake.

Kabukichō - Tokyo's Red Light District

The constant throb of the soulless techno beat was the only sound in the room. Pale; dim lighting shown only over the small stage. An erotic ballet was taking place. The pole seemed almost an extension of her. It was difficult to tell where it stopped and she began. She glided around it like smoke in a vortex. Her sensual body's every movement designed to entice. Her full lips had a slight sensual pout, as though she were silently purring.

Denjiro was pleased. He took another long drag from his cigarette and smiled as he enjoying the show. Her felt his body respond to every movement, just as she seemed to intend. If she noticed, she gave no sign of it. She just went on dancing, flinging her jet black hair back over her shoulder, grinding against the shiny dancing pole, wrapping her sensual legs around it and almost levitating to the top. She retained the ceremonial fans from earlier, but now used them as part of the erotic tease.

Denjiro was particularly delighted with his choice. He knew she was special, not just for her looks but the way she moved. She was a rare jewel and after what he'd done with the last dancer, it was a special surprise he was able to procure her.

It had cost him plenty, but that wasn't a problem. Denjiro was the eldest son of a Makuda Yakuza boss, so it wasn't like he was in any real danger of being arrested. And Denjiro had most of the strip joints and brothels cowering in terror, too afraid to refuse him when he came calling.

As if to flaunt his power, he'd called the most exclusive, high-class service and requested this one. From the moment he'd seen her picture on the private, elite web site, he wanted her. There had been some polite arguing, but he got his way in the end. He always did.

She arrived at almost midnight, dressed as a traditional geisha. It was her specialty, so he played along, allowing her to serve him sake and play the shamisen. It was all very quaint, but he soon bored of the illusion. She politely offered to dance and he readily agreed. The illusion changed as she slipped out of her ceremonial kimono and let down her hair. She was flawless and he felt himself growing aroused by the sight of her. As he saw more of her for the first time, he suddenly realized the traditional white makeup mask of the geisha hadn't been a mask; all of her skin was pale, bone white. As she turned, he saw the dragon done in the traditional Tebori method of tattooing by hand. The craftsmanship was remarkable. Done in all black, it merely hinted at the shape as it swirled around her body from ankle to shoulder.

This bitch was amazing though, he thought. She wasn't afraid. She climbed to the top of the pole and opened her legs wide, slowly rotating around as she exposed her barely concealed sex to him. She smiled and then clamped her legs down tight on the pole and hung upside down, facing him. Her breasts were threatening to slip out of her black half bra, her dark nipples peeking over the edge.

It was difficult telling whether she was moving around the pole or if the pole was just moving around her. She slipped around it like a silk ribbon, twisted her body around it sensuously. Her full, pouty lips were parted slightly, as though she were silently moaning.

Taking another long drink from the sake, he watched, mesmerized by her. He could feel himself growing hard, harder than normal as he pondered just what he would do with this special treat. He was in the penthouse of one of the top hotels and his guards were stationed at every exit. It was fifty-two stories down to the pavement. There was nowhere for her to run and no one to hear her screams and cries.

He licked his lips, as she slowly rotated from the top of the pole to the bottom and then back up again. The fans moved like little birds on the wind, giving tantalizing glimpses of her pale, white skin. She wore a black G-string that barely concealed anything, yet gave the illusion of being one last barrier for him to conquer.

Denjiro hadn't been this turned on in a long time. He knew he'd made the right decision by delaying his trip to Gotham. His father and the rest of the heads of the family were already there, but he had delayed so he could enjoy this night. It promised to be memorable.

The dancer locked her thighs around the pole and then eased back until she was hanging upside down. Her eyes had been closed the whole time, as if she were lost in the music. When she was perfectly perpendicular, she opened them and gazed at Denjiro. The fans fluttered at her sides and he got his first full look at her body. Flawless, the word seemed to instantly pop into his head. She was tiny, no more than five two, yet perfect. As his eyes traveled hungrily over her body, Denjiro felt an urgency nearly overwhelm him. He took another drink, his head already swimming and nodded for her to continue.

He thought he saw a hint of a smirk cross her lips, but she was moving before he could be sure. Lifting herself up she instantly began a slow spiral down the pole. Denjiro felt the sweat on his forehead and his mouth was dry. He blinked, thinking the dragon tattoo was shifting over her skin. No, its just part of the illusion he thought.

When the woman reached the floor, she rolled to her hands and knees and gave him almost a predatory look. It went straight through him, adding to his urgent need. Lighting another cigarette, he inhaled as he watched her. Something felt off, almost as if control had shifted from him to her. That wouldn't do, it would ruin it for him. He gazed at her hard and then held up his hand. Using only one finger he beckoned her closer. She gave the smallest nod, but the fan obscured her full expression from him.

Keeping her eyes locked with his the whole time, she slowly started to crawl towards him. Denjiro felt the beat of his heart pounding through his veins. So many nasty, wicked things he would do to her flashed through his mind. He sensed no fear though, and he wanted her to fear him. That was part of the game he loved, the look of helpless terror in their eyes.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a switchblade and snapped it open. The sound and the glint of the sharp steel in the light caused her to stop. Yes, there it was, he thought. That first realization of what might be to come. She held the fan in front of her face, but her almond shaped eyes grew wider as she knelt staring at the blade. This is how it should be, Denjiro thought. Her mind is trying to process it. Part of her knows how this is going to end, but she doesn't want to believe it. She's probably telling herself that things like this don't happen in the world.

A cruel smile creased his lips and once again he held up one finger and beckoned her closer. He watched the fan flutter, only this time he suspected it was from her hand shaking. She didn't look away, though, and slowly began to move towards him again. She stopped just between his wide spread thighs. He felt huge and powerful, staring down at her.

He reached down and unbuckled his pants, letting them flop open. His hard shaft pushed it's way out. The woman still had the fan in front of her face, but her eyes moved from his eyes to his manhood and then back to his eyes. He thought he saw real fear and chuckled. It was time to let her know what she had to look forward to, he thought. Reaching down, he took a handful of her silky black hair and started to pull her roughly towards him. Oh, he was going to have fun with this one.

The woman's hand shot out, swiping the fan through the air. Denjiro felt something sting him, but when he tried to protest, only a gurgling sound came. His grip slipped from her hair and she moved back and stood up. The fans were at her side, but one was dripping with blood. Denjiro didn't understand what was happening. He brought his hand up to his throat and when he looked at it there was blood covered his fingers. The stinging grew worse and slowly it sunk in that she'd slashed his throat from ear to ear. A look of horror came to his eyes and he made a desperate lunge towards her.

The woman easily sidestepped him and he went crashing to the floor. Blood seemed to be everywhere now. He felt his life slipping away as he started to crawl towards the front door. Something pressed down on his back, stopping him. In the next moment he was flipped over, her foot on his chest. He clawed at her slender ankle and thigh, but there was no power behind it.

Finally, he looked into her eyes and the fear settled in. She had killed him and there was nothing he could do. A cold smile crossed her lips as she leaned down to whisper into his ear.

"Blood for blood."

He wanted to scream, but only a choking sound came. She held his gaze for another moment and then walked away. He could hear her rummaging through his desk and computer, but he didn't have the strength to rise. He felt weaker by the moment and knew the end was fast approaching. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her walking back towards him. She stopped just above him and there was a cold, satisfied smile on her face. The room began to swirl and dim and the last thing he saw was her looking at him.

It was done. The woman stepped away from him and began putting on her kimono. There was no rush or haste to her movements. She took her time making sure everything was back in place and she wasn't forgetting anything. She took a careful glance at her fans, noting the blood was already starting to dry on the razor sharp prongs. She slipped them inside her kimono and then walked over to the sound system. She turned the volume up; knowing the guards would think it was to cover her screams.

She glanced at the airline ticket she'd found. Gotham, that's where the rest of them are, she thought. She would follow.

Glancing around the room one last time, she moved over and picked up a lead lined planter. With strength that belied her size, she tossed it against the reinforced terrace windows. They shattered against its weight.

She uncoiled the sash from her kimono and rushed through the broken glass, launching herself off the terrace and into the night air. The winds carried her out and downward towards the busy pavement below. She flung the weighted end of her sash out and it caught on the skyscraper across the way. Silently she twisted, lessening the jerk of the line and swung over to an unoccupied terrace on the building.

She stood there, gazing back at the broken window as she reeled in her sash.

Gotham, that's where the trail of vengeance was leading Masami and she would follow.

Blood for Blood.

Metropolis – Two nights later

Diana stood in street clothes in front of the door, her hand frozen inches away from knocking. She hadn't even realized where she was heading when she left Themyscira until she as in front of his building. She wanted to talk to Kal. She had thought of Steve Trevor, her current boyfriend or Bruce, a former one, but here she was, at Kal's door. She wasn't sure why, she had more history with the other men, yet something made her want to see Kal.

Now that she was here, she hesitated. Diana wasn't sure what she expected from him. She just had this strange need to see him. She'd almost knocked on his door twice, but kept stopping herself. She nervously chewed her lower lips, glancing back down the hallway, wondering if maybe this was a mistake. Swallowing some of her nerves, she lightly rapped once on his door. A second passed and she was all ready to leave when he opened it. He looked surprised to see her.

"Um, ah, Diana, hi,' Clark said.

"Hi, Kal,' she answered.

Something seemed different about her, he thought. Was she nervous?

"Why don't you come in,' he offered, stepping to the side and allowing her to enter. Diana started and stopped, then walked passed him in a rush. He watched her, wondering what was going on with her. Absently he thought about if she knew about what happened with Hippolyta, but her reaction would be completely different if she did. Something else was going on with her. He closed the door and walked over to Diana.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable,' he said. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee, soda, wine?"

"No, um, well, wine maybe."

"Okay, coming up,' he replied, moving off to the kitchen. Diana watched him and then nervously looked around his apartment. She'd never been here before and was a little surprised by how modest it was. She moved over and looked at the photos he had on a desk. They were of him and his family. She gave a little smile as she ran her fingers along one of the frames. It was the one of him as a young boy between Mr. and Mrs. Kent that got her attention. They looked very happy. She could hear him opening cabinets and taking down glasses in the kitchen. Not sure what else to do, Diana walked over and took one of the armchairs.

He appeared moments later, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Its not much, just a Pinot Noir,' he said, sitting across from her and pouring them both a glass. Diana took a small sip of it and liked it.

"It's good,' she offered.

"I'm glad you like it,' he replied. "So what's up?"

Diana set her wine glass down and nervously fumbled with her hands. She wasn't sure where to start. He waited patiently for her, not trying to push her.

"You-You were on Themyscira recently, right,' she finally asked.

"Yes.'

"Did my mother, well, did she seem different,' Diana asked.

Clark had to stop himself from spitting out his wine.

"Different?' He managed to ask.

"Yes, was she distracted when you were there?"

"Um, yes," he replied. That was certainly one way of putting it. "Why do you ask, Diana?"

She looked at him for a second and then stood in frustration. She began pacing back and forth in his living room.

"Diana?"

"It's crazy, Kal, even as I think about it now, it's crazy,' she said, not stopping her pacing.

"What's crazy, Diana? What's going on,' he asked.

"My mother called for a new tournament when I got home,' Diana said. "A tournament to crown a Champion of the Amazons."

"I thought they already had a Champion, you,' he said.

"Yes, yes they do, but she called for a new tournament!"

"Why?"

"I don't know,' Diana admitted. "I asked her and she gave me several reasons, but they were lies, all lies."

"Lies? How were they lies,' he asked.

"Because she secretly entered the tournament herself,' Diana exclaimed. "She won! She's the Champion of the Amazons now!"

"Wh-Wh-What,' Clark stammered, totally caught off guard by this.

"She won! It gets worse, she named me to replace her as Queen and the senate agreed!"

'You're the Queen of the Amazons,' Clark replied. "Should I call you Queen Diana now?"

"Don't be funny, Kal,' Diana snapped. 'I didn't like when you teased me by calling me Princess, I really don't like the idea of you calling me Queen!"

"Sorry."

"I don't know what to do,' Diana groaned. She finally slumped back down into the chair and covered her face with her hands. "My own mother lied to me and then goes behind my back and arranges to replace me! I don't understand any of it!"

"Have you talked to her,' Clark asked, still trying to process everything Diana had just told him.

"No, I can't." Diana grumbled. "She's retreated to the Sanctuary for prayer! No one's allowed to interrupt someone there. I think she did it so she wouldn't have to explain!"

"She must have had a reason,' Clark offered.

"What?' Diana quickly replied.

"I-I don't know, but there has to be some reason,' Clark said.

"I can't figure out what it is,' Diana admitted. "I don't know what to do, Kal."

"I don't know what to tell you, Diana,' He honestly said. "What do you want to do?'

"I don't want to be Queen, I'll tell you that,' she immediately said. "I'm not ready to be Queen. I like my life as it is. I like being Wonder Woman with you and the League. I don't want to give that up!"

"Do you have to?' He asked.

"She won the right to be Champion,' Diana exclaimed. "That means she gets to wear the armor, Kal! Oh, I just want to get my hands on my mother and wring the truth out of her!"

"Can you just refuse,' he asked. "You know, decline being Queen?"

"I suppose, but then it would fall to Donna and she's not ready to be Queen,' Diana admitted. "I'm the heir to the throne and it's my duty to assume it. I just don't want to."

"Then don't,' he replied.

"But I have to, Kal, it's my duty,' Diana admitted. "I've known all my life one day I would be called to assume the throne, I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"Would being Queen be so bad,' he asked.

"No,' she reluctantly admitted. "I could make changes I've wanted to make for some time, but it would mean most of my time would be spent on Themyscira. I wouldn't see you…any of you for long stretches at a time.'

Clark reached across the table and took Diana's hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze and her, a reassuring smile.

"Now that the island is open to the outside world, we could come visit any time you ask. You'd be on diplomatic missions out here all the time, probably, so we'd see each other. I mean we'd all see you."

Diana returned his smile, but it quickly turned into a frown.

"It's not the same, Kal,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mother would take my place as Wonder Woman."

"You'll always be Wonder Woman to me, Diana,' he replied. "Someone else might wear the armor, but they wouldn't be Wonder Woman."

Diana blushed a little at this, but then got up and started pacing again.

"It makes no sense,' she muttered. "I don't know what to do."

"Hey, come here,' Clark finally said to her. He reached out and took her hand and gently eased her down next to him on the couch. He put his arm around her and just held her. Diana leaned into him and they sat there for a long time like this.

Clark didn't say it, but he was as confused as Diana was. Why would Hippolyta do what she did? First she sleeps with him and then she lies to her daughter, something wasn't right. The thought that he would be seeing Hippolyta all the time was a little unsettling to him as well. He had no answers for Diana, so he just held her and tried his best to comfort his friend.