[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ongIcUu.png[/img][/center] All around me is wreckage and death. The air is choked with smoke and dust, heavy with the roar of fresh flames, the wail of sirens too far away, and the screams and cries of the dying. [sub][color=Thistle]"Momma, you've gotta get up!"[/color][/sub] I hear a young girl cry as she pushes at the body of her mother, the older woman's glazed-over eyes staring vacantly into nothing. [sub][color=Thistle]"Please get up! Why won't anybody get uuuup?"[/color][/sub] My ears pound from the hammering thrum of my own pulse. One eye is swolen shut, my nose is a ruin, and my mouth is filled with the copper taste of blood. My left arm hangs uselessly by my side, broken in three places. It may be easier to count which of my ribs are [i]not[/i] broken or cracked, grinding against each other and sending bolts of white-hot pain throughout my body with every breath. To even stand is agony. But I've done it. I've beaten him. I've [i]won.[/i] My right arm holds the Sword of Athena, and its point is at the throat of the alien monster Despero. [color=Magenta]"...stop....wait...I..."[/color] he sputters in between ragged breaths, his enormous frame oozing deep purple ichor from slashes across his torso and deep into his arms and legs. The brute's power is unbelievable, possibly greater even than that of Superman himself. Even fighting as one, the Justice League could not contain his might. For a few moments, he had managed to split me away from the group, perhaps hoping to kill me in single combat before doing the same to the others. Despero's strength was unreal, his technique formidable, and his strategy sound. But for just a moment, the gods smiled upon me, and I managed to turn the tide. A desperate counter which cost me the use of my arm allowed me an opening, and I took full advantage, carving into him with my blade. Muscles split and tendons gave way, taking away Despero's ability to fight, to stand. A slash across his third eye took his psychic powers. Now, all I have to do is bring the tip of my sword forward another two inches to pierce his throat, and this madness ends. Just two inches. Despero looks up at me, and with his two remaining eyes I see something that hadn't been there before, that perhaps had [i]never[/i] been there: fear. [color=Magenta]"...p-please..."[/color] he begs. My lifetime among the Amazons tells me the course is clear. Despero is a monster, a butcher of the innocent. To let him live would jeopardize the lives of everyone in this world. And yet, I cannot bring the point to bear. My time among the heroes of the world of Man has changed me. The Justice League preserve and protect life; they do not dole out judgment and death even against their enemies. We fight the forces of evil, but we will not be their executioners. [color=Gold]"Yield....now,"[/color] I order him, the tip of my sword drifting away from his throat. [color=Gold]"You will face justice for your crimes, on this world and the others. But I will grant you this mercy. You will leave this world, and [i]never[/i] return. Whatever fate awaits you, yield now, and face your justice with honor."[/color] Despero places his hands up in submission. [color=Magenta]"I....I yield...."[/color] I can choose victory now. I can choose to end this madness. I instead take the road that Kal, Bruce, and the others would choose. I choose mercy. I choose justice. My sword lowers.... ....and only too late, I see his wounds knitting shut, his third eye restored, and a cruel smile split his face. [color=Magenta]"I yield....to [i]NO ONE!!!!"[/i][/color] Despero roars, sending me reeling with a powerful psychic blast. I tumble end over end, head and limbs smashing against ground and rubble, before finally I come to a halt half-buried in the wreckage of an apartment building. My head is in a daze, as I hear Despero's triumphant laughter. [color=Magenta]"[i]That[/i] is for your 'mercy!'"[/color] he mocks as he rains down blows upon me. [color=Magenta]"[i]That[/i] is for your 'justice!'"[/color] Finally, he picks up my limp form and slams me into the pavement. For a moment, I look to where the young girl and her mother had been. All that remains there is a pile of debris, and a dark red smear. My vision blurs, and I hear the battle rage anew as the other members of the League rush to take my place. I try to join them, but my strength gives out... ...and darkness takes me. [hr] I wake up in a cold sweat. [color=Olive]"Hnnnnh,"[/color] Steve stirs in his sleep as I rise from our bed. The chaos and horror of that day fade as I regain my bearings. [color=Olive]"Something wrong, Di?"[/color] [color=Gold]"Just...having trouble sleeping,"[/color] I say, trying to ease his worry as I head toward the bathroom and turn on a cold shower. [color=Olive]"Bad dreams again?"[/color] I don't answer. Four years have gone by. I am in the penthouse suite of the Themysciran embassy in Washington, D.C. The threat of Despero has long passed. The wonderous work of Amazonian healers had restored in days wounds that should have taken years to mend. Even so, I am scarred. I shower to shake off the nightmare, wash myself as clean as I can. Still, I feel stained inside. Steve says I beat myself up too much for what happened. None of the League placed the blame for the deaths of innocents on my failure. My sisters called the defeat of Despero a great victory, regardless of the cost. Even when I told my mother I was unworthy of bearing the title of the Amazons' champion, she claimed I bore no shame. Despite their praise and their platitudes, I know what truly happened that day. I chose the high road, and countless died because of it. After a few minutes, I step out of the shower and dry myself off. Coming back into the bedroom, I see that Steve is seated at the foot of the bed, the sleep gone from his eyes, but not the concern. [color=Olive]"Di, we've been through this,"[/color] he begins, gently but with certainty. [color=Olive]"There's nothing wrong with seeking counseling. Etta's offer still stands, and I think-"[/color] [color=Gold]"Steve,"[/color] I interrupt him, [color=Gold]"I thank you...but I doubt my issues can be resolved with a few sessions of talk therapy."[/color] [color=Olive]"Then maybe some action can take your mind off of things?"[/color] he says with a grin. [color=Gold]"I'm really not in the mood for--"[/color] [color=Olive]"I meant [i]combat[/i] action,"[/color] Steve chuckles. [color=Olive]"There's an ARGUS operation in south Rhelaysia going down in the next twelve hours. They're targeting a guerilla group that they believe has ties to Kobra. Intel says the operation is feeding a chop-doc, an underground surgeon who experiments on trafficked victims to turn them into metahuman soldiers."[/color] [color=Gold]"Immoral human experimentation, weaponized metahumans,"[/color] I say with a touch of scorn. [color=Gold]"Is that not what ARGUS is known for?"[/color] [color=Olive]"What they [i]were[/i] known for,"[/color] Steve says defensively. [color=Olive]"You and I can keep them honest now."[/color] [color=Gold]"Of course,"[/color] I say, only half-convinced. In truth, we had both labored hard over the years to help turn the metahuman response team into something more noble, rather than another shadowy organization for mad scientists and warmongers. Sometimes I wonder if we have made any real progress, but to discredit Steve's efforts would be to dishonor him. [color=Olive]"Anyway,"[/color] he says, [color=Olive]"Officially, this op is top-secret, and me telling a foreign diplomat about an ongoing military operation is a compromise of national security tantamount to treason. [i]Un[/i]offficially, if Wonder Woman just happens to arrive in a situation with lives in danger, well, that's just a superhero doing what superheroes do. How about instead of staying up all night beating yourself up, you take it out on some [i]truly[/i] bad guys?"[/color] I look to the far corner of the room, to the rack where my armor and weapons are placed both for display and for easy access. [color=Gold]"[i]Truly[/i] bad?"[/color] I say, raising an eyebrow. [color=Olive]"The worst,"[/color] Steve answers, knowing he has my attention. [color=Olive]"These people kidnap women and children, do terrible things to them, then cut them up to see if they can make living weapons for Kobra. You want to cut loose a little? This one's guilt-free."[/color] I'm sure if Kal or Bruce were here, they would have some harsh words to say, some high-minded idealistic lecture to prevent me from indulging in the darker parts of our nature. But Kal and Bruce aren't here. And we already saw where high-minded ideals got us. [color=Gold]"We will take the jet,"[/color] I say as I head towards the armory rack. [color=Gold]"Give me a moment to get changed."[/color] [hr] The next few hours are spent in a blur. The chatter of machine guns. The pained groans of foes as they fall before me. The shock of impact up my arm as my fist smashes into an armored tank. The elation of rescuing victims who are still alive. The cold fury of finding those who are not. The fire of vindication as I wreak vengeance for the dead upon their killers. The electric thrill of Steve Trevor's kiss as I take him in the back of the invisible jet. Needless to say, my blood is up when I hear a whistle, and recognize the call of Hephaestus. [hr] [quote=@Hound55] [color=goldenrod]"Diana. We seem to have a disagreement here. Please straighten this gentleman out."[/color] [/quote] [color=Gold]"Watch your tone, Hephaestus,"[/color] I say with a fair amount of indignance. [color=Gold]"I am no hireling to act at your beck and call. And I am in no mood for nonsense."[/color] [color=goldenrod]"Hey, I'm just asking you to help me de-escalate a situation here,"[/color] the deformed weapon-smith says, putting his hands up in mock innocence. [color=goldenrod]"And I was just thinkin you might be willing to do me a solid since, y'know, I made pretty much your whole kit--"[/color] [color=Gold]"I seem to recall more than one of my enemies wielding weapons that bear your signature as well,"[/color] I glare at him. [color=Gold]"Still, I will speak with this visitor. If his reasons for coming here are more just than yours for calling upon me, then you and I will have words."[/color] Hephaestus backs away, knowing better than to prod at me too much. Then I turn to see his visitor. The first glance tells me he has a similar arsenal of divine weapons, though they appear to be of Roman make rather than Greek. He wears the garb of a centurion, a worshipper of Mars. The Roman iteration of Ares. Given my past experiences with Ares and his various incarnations, challenging me to a fight would be a spectacularly poor decision, even were I in a better humor. [color=Gold]"Now then,"[/color] I address the stranger, my left hand resting on the Lasso at my hip, my right hand slowly reaching for the pommel of my sword, [color=Gold]"I would recommend you explain your reason for being here, and I would [i]very[/i] strongly advise you speak only the truth."[/color]