Post by Alex on Nov 15, 2013 0:55:00 GMT -5
Wonder Woman
An Earth-A Title
Issue #4: "Godschild, part 1: Lightning After the Storm"
Written by Scott Cook
Cover by Alex Vasquez
Then
She woke up in a haze. She was dizzy, lightheaded; the world looked out of focus, and the noise around her was muffled and distant. When her surroundings finally aligned themselves, she found she was in a wide, soft bed, atop thick blankets and pillows. She tried to rub the dreariness from her eyes. “Wha…what happened…”
Cassie Sandsmark’s eyes went wide. She sat bolt upright and instantly regretted doing so; the room spun, and she felt of a trickle of vomit creeping up the back of her throat. She forced it away and did her best to shake off the dizziness. She failed, and the simple action of standing up turned into a herculean task.
As Cassie held tight to the bedpost and prayed her legs would stabilize, she heard the sound of a door open. “I wouldn’t try that,” said a voice behind her. “Sleeping dust has a tendency to leave its victims out of sorts. There’s some water on the tray; it’ll help clear your head.”
Cassie turned and saw the old man from before; Aaron whatever-his-name-was. He had a serious expression on his face as he walked into the room, closed the door behind him, and took a seat. Cassie scowled at him, and reached behind her for her pocketknife, but found nothing was there. She heard a thunk, and saw Aaron had the knife in hand, the blade lodged firmly in the armrest of his chair.
“You have good taste in weapons,” he said, looking at her knife. “But this is cheap, fragile. You can do better.”
“What the hell do you want with me?” Cassie growled, her patience way past gone.
“To give you your birthright,” he answered. “I’m about to embark on a grand campaign, and I’d like to have one of my human children at my side. You’re the best that was available.”
“Gee, I’m so flattered,” she said. “So, what, this is about you saying you’re my father?”
“I am your father,” Ares responded, as his suit began to creepily burn away, turning into a black suit of armor with a red cape at the shoulders. “I’m also Ares, God of War, which makes you, my dear girl, a demigod.”
Cassie refused to believe it at first. She was prepared to chalk everything up to some sort of hallucination or manic episode or very advanced special effects; but she couldn’t help but see it for it was. So, rather than protest against the strangeness of what she had seen, she instead said, “I don’t care who you are; I know who I am, and I’m not about to do favors for someone who drugged and kidnapped me. So thanks, daddy, but I’m not interested; doesn’t matter what god you say you are.”
Ares contemplated this, closed his eyes, and said, “Would you like to speak with your mother?”
Cassie’s eyes went wide. “What?” she asked.
Ares’s answer was to stand up and leave the room. Cassie wasn’t sure what would happen next. She considered making a break for it, but her head was still reeling from the sleeping dust, and she wouldn’t be able to make it to the door without stumbling, not to mention the fact that she had no idea where she was or where she’d go. So instead, Cassie sat down on the bed again, hoping that would alleviate her nausea. She saw the glass of water the old man had mentioned and, after taking a cautionary sniff, drank the whole thing down in one go.
Cassie heard the door open again and turned to see her mother being led in by Aaron, or Ares, or whatever he called himself. Helena Sandsmark’s heart skipped a beat as she rushed forward and embraced her daughter. “Oh thank heaven you’re alright,” she said breathlessly. “Has he done anything to you? Has he hurt you?”
“He knocked me out and dropped me here,” Cassie said. “Other than that, I’m peachy.”
Helena shot an angry look at Ares. “How could you? She’s your daughter!”
Ares gave a smug grin and said, “I’ll leave you two alone.” And with that, he turned and closed the door behind him.
Immediately, Cassie leapt to her feet, stumbled, regained her composure, and rushed to the door. Helena interjected, “Don’t bother, it’ll be locked.” True to form, the door wouldn’t budge when she pulled and pushed it. Cassie sighed and turned to face her mother. “So he’s not lying, then?”
Helena sighed. “He…I…I prayed this day would never come. I mean, he said this would never happen-”
“So getting kidnapped was a possibility?” Cassie asked. “How did you even meet this guy? Was he always psycho?”
“No…maybe…I don’t know,” Helena let out a breath. “It was years ago, I was at a dig outside of Athens, he was an investor in the project, we started dating, and then…” she looked up at Cassie. “And then I got pregnant. I told him, and he just…disappeared, at first. When he got back, he told me the truth: he was Ares. He was a warlord, and a killer, and I just couldn’t let him near you, so I told him to leave. And he did, and I never spoke to him again.”
There was silence between them. Then Cassie broke it by saying, “You told me my father was dead.”
“Yes, I did,” Helena answered. “Because I was trying to protect you.”
“Well, you’ve done a great job of that!” Cassie said. “You lied to me! For seventeen years, I thought my father got hit by a drunk driver before I was born! But no! Turns out dear old dad isn’t just still alive, oh no, he’s freaking god! How could you do that?”
“You’d rather have known the truth?” Helena said. “Honey, he’s a maniac! I wasn’t going to let him near you! I wasn’t going to let any of his madness rub off on you!”
“You had no right to do that,” Cassie said. “To lie to me. To take away my chance to have a father.”
“A father who has kidnapped both of us,” Helena was barely keeping her anger in check. “I had every right to keep him from you. I am your mother.”
Cassie just shook her head. “You shouldn’t have lied to me. You had no right.”
At that moment, the door opened, and Ares stood in frame, looking at the two. “Time’s up. Helena, if you could come with me?” He offered a hand. Helena stood up from the bed and walked out of the room on her own. She stopped and turned to look at her daughter, with sorrow and regret in her eyes. Cassie didn’t look back at her, and Helena was forced down the hallway and out of sight by Ares, who closed and locked the door behind him.
“You’ll never get her on your side,” Helena said. “Once she finds out what you really are, she’ll never be yours.”
“She just doesn’t know me yet,” Ares answered calmly. “I wonder… whose fault is that?”
* * * * * *
It had been nine days since the terrorists of the Cult of Ares had attacked A.R.G.U.S. headquarters, and people were still reeling from it. The public knew that there had been arrests made on some of the attackers; what they didn't know was that these attackers were once beast-men, who turned back to human form after the fighting had stopped. They also didn’t know that the prisoners had had their tongues cut out, and seemed sickeningly happy over the fact that they were both unwilling and unable to reveal any information about their organization. Then, a day after the attack, the video was released.
It was a declaration from the self-proclaimed Voice of Ares, though most media services were quick to point out that the man in question was Simon Kalikh, a psychotic warlord from Central Africa who was already the eighth most wanted man in the world, though that changed some after the release of the video. In it, Kalikh and his cult took credit for the attack on A.R.G.U.S, and promised that they weren't finished with the group.
In the aftermath of the attack and the video, several members of the American military requested transfers to A.R.G.U.S., while funding for the group poured in from local and international investors. It now seemed that it was the group’s mission to find and apprehend Kalikh and the Cult, and people were lining up to make sure that happened.
As for Colonel Steve Trevor and Diana of Themyscira, the two had spent days living in the safe house and rarely leaving it. It was a profoundly dull experience, but General Darnell and Chairman Michael Holt had assured them that it would be best for them to stay in the safety of an anonymous home. Meanwhile, the footage of Diana defending A.R.G.U.S. had been circulating the media and the internet for days after the attack. Because she wore the same armor her mother wore during World War II and because the two of them looked so similar, Diana had, unsurprisingly, been given the same title as her mother. To the rest of the world, she was the new Wonder Woman.
Questions about her circulated the news cycle. Who was this mysterious new heroine? Was A.R.G.U.S. employing someone with superpowers? What right did she have to wear the outfit of a long-thought dead war hero, or was she in fact the same woman who fought alongside the legendary Justice Society? Michael Holt remained tight-lipped about Diana, which only added fuel to the mystery of the Wonder Woman. Diana herself didn’t like this one bit; she wanted to be a hero, to protect the innocent without fear of exposing herself or A.R.G.U.S., but now that that had happened, she worried that they’d never let her be the hero she wanted to be.
On the fifth day after the attack, it was announced that a party would be thrown the following Saturday, one that would celebrate the good men and women of A.R.G.U.S., especially the ones who gave their lives in the attack, and welcome the new Wonder Woman to the modern world. The financier behind the event was Maximilian Nikolaidis, an eccentric shipping mogul and philanthropist who had often donated to A.R.G.U.S. from his vast fortune, even when the group was considered a dead end. He had insisted on Diana attending the event, and the higher-ups at A.R.G.U.S. allowed it, providing Colonel Trevor remained as her escort.
When the night of the party came to be, Steve and Diana arrived at the lobby of the luxurious Grant-Fordham Hotel some half-an-hour after the seven o’clock start time. Steve was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo; complete with a bowtie that strangled his neck uncomfortably, but it was Diana who looked flawless in a sleek black dress, the only remnant of her combat attire being the silver bulletproof bracelets she insisted on wearing. Diana claimed that as a warrior and one targeted by a god at that, she should be prepared for any attack; Steve called it paranoid, but couldn’t really fault her logic. Besides, she still looked perfect.
The pair made their way to an elevator in the back of the lobby, guarded by a well-dressed, imposing man who was at least a head taller than Steve. “Invitation, please?” he said, looking down on them.
Steve reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small card, which he handed to the attendant. He looked it over briefly, then looked down at Steve and asked, “You’re Diana Prince?”
“What can I say? My parents were hippies,” Steve answered nonchalantly. The attendant was not amused by the joke, and may have acted on his feelings if Diana had not intervened.
“I’m Diana Prince,” she said, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “This is my plus-one.”
The attendant took one look at Diana and relaxed his expression. He pulled a key from his pocket, put it into a hole near the elevator, and turned it. The doors parted, and after a ‘thank you’ from Steve and Diana, the two entered the elevator and pressed the only button on the panel. The doors closed and the elevator shot up through its glass tube, heading straight for the top floor penthouse.
As Steve nervously tugged at his bowtie again, he went over his instructions to Diana one last time. “Now, remember, there’s going to be a lot of backers and higher-ups from A.R.G.U.S. here, so just try to blend in, okay? Don’t go denouncing man’s world or men in general or anything – I know we’re terrible, but you and I have to make a good impression in front of the big wigs, alright? …are you listening to me?”
She wasn’t. Diana was instead enraptured by the view from the elevator, as they passed up through the hotel around it, past floors of rooms and restaurants and all manner of decadence that Diana had never seen in person. Steve couldn’t begrudge her; it was an impressive view, and something he’d rarely seen himself.
Eventually the view vanished as the elevator reached its destination. The doors parted again, revealing a lavish hotel suite that seemed to take up an entire floor in and of itself. The party was in full swing: the suite was filled with guests talking amongst themselves, the sound of idle chatter not quite overwhelming the soft music playing over the speakers, as waiters made their ways through the crowd holding platters of entrees with impeccable balance.
Emerging from the crowd was a man dressed in a black tuxedo, similar to most others at the party, but with a curious lightning-bolt insignia stitched into his tie in yellow thread. He was tall, strong, and strikingly handsome, with a short but thick black beard around the edge of his jaw
“Welcome, my friends, welcome,” he said, stretching out a hand. “I’m Maximilian Nikolaidis.”
Steve, almost too eagerly, took his hand and shook it. “Mr. Nikolaidis, sir, it’s a pleasure. I’m Steve Trevor. Thanks so much for inviting us, it really means a lot.”
Mr. Nikolaidis didn’t seem to mind Steve’s excitement. In fact, he didn’t seem to pay Steve any mind at all. Instead, his gaze and his focus were placed squarely on Diana. “And this must be the famous Wonder Woman. By god, does the Channel 12 news not do you justice.”
Diana smiled politely as he took her hand and kissed it. “I’d prefer Diana, please. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nikolaidis.”
He chuckled at that. “Mr. Nikolaidis was my father. Call me Maxie.”
“Very well, Maxie,” Diana answered. Before either she or Steve knew what was happening, Maxie pulled a remote out of his pocket and clicked a button, stopping the music. He then lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, handed one to Diana and kept the other for himself, and spoke in a loud, clear voice that silenced everyone in the room and took their attentions.
“Friends of A.R.G.U.S.,” he said. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the achievements of our group, in the fight against the unknowable menaces that darken our collective doorsteps. Our group may have started off as a small enterprise, eager to keep an eye on the bogeymen of Gotham or the aliens of Metropolis, but we’ve become something more, and thanks to the efforts of this extraordinary, beautiful woman in particular,” he presented Diana as if she were trophy. “We are on the fast track to becoming the preeminent military force in these United States. So thank you dearly, Ms. Diana Prince! Cheers!”
There was a cry of ‘cheers!’ from the crowd as they all collectively took a drink from their respective glasses, Maxie finishing his in one go while Diana neatly sipped at hers. Steve, meanwhile, quietly resented the fact that Maxie had not thought to hand him a glass of champagne as well.
Before the party could start again, a voice from the back of the room piped up. “I’d also like to add something, if I may.”
The guests all turned and saw, standing near the window, was Michael Holt himself, wearing a solemn expression. Steve took a moment to notice that Maxie’s face seemed to darken when the attention was diverted away from him.
“We owe our success not just to Ms. Prince or the generous donations from our backers such as Mr. Nikolaidis, but to the brave soldiers of A.R.G.U.S., whose dedication and courage has saved lives and protected all of us. We gather here not just to celebrate our success, but to remember those we’ve lost along the way, especially those in the attack two weeks ago, who made the ultimate sacrifice to bring us here. If we could have a moment of silence for those exemplary men and women, it would be greatly appreciated.”
The crowd collectively bowed their heads and the entire room was quiet. Steve chanced another look at Maxie, who held the same reverent position, but still tried to transfix his gaze on Holt. After Holt broke the silence with a quick “Thank you,” Maxie immediately pressed a button on his remote. The music started up again, and the conversation along with it.
“Come, Diana, come,” Maxie said, urging her to follow him. “Let me give you a tour of the place. I’ve a few art pieces you may find interesting.”
And with that, the two departed, leaving Steve alone at the party. He felt nervous about Diana interacting with Mr. Nikolaidis; not because of her confrontational nature or her lack of knowledge about the modern world that could lead to an undesirable situation with an A.R.G.U.S. backer, but because something about Mr. Nikolaidis rubbed him the wrong way. Something about the way he looked at Diana seemed almost…possessive.
At the same time, however, Steve realized he was talking about Princess Diana of Themyscira, the strongest person he knew. There was no doubt in his mind that she could handle herself against someone like Maxie Nikolaidis. With that in mind, Steve did something he’d wanted to do since he had arrived at the party and headed across the room to the open bar.
* * * * * *
“So? What do you think?” Maxie asked. “Isn’t it magnificent?”
Diana didn’t think it was magnificent. In fact, she thought quite the opposite.
The subject in question was an elaborate tapestry in a glass case. The intricately woven black and gold fabric was of Roman design, something with which Diana had a passing familiarity with. However, it was the subject of the tapestry that offended her. It was a depiction of Hercules – the name given to Zeus’s most famous bastard by the Romans and the name he had adopted after rejecting his own birth moniker – and his infamous conquest of the Amazons. The “hero” stood triumphant, a cloak made of a lion’s skin hung around his shoulders and a club in one hand, as his victims knelt, naked save for the manacles that bound their wrists, the same manacles that had inspired her own bulletproof bracelets. To Maxie, it was an inspiring myth. To Diana, it was a black spot on her people’s history.
What the tapestry didn’t show was that Hercules had only succeeded in his conquest through trickery and deception, not through the brute force and cunning strategy usually attributed to him, or that after his conquest, Hera had sentenced him to an eternity of servitude to the Gods until he had worked off his debt. It had been thousands of years since then, and Hercules was still paying for his sins, and the Amazons still hated him for them.
Diana wanted to tell all of this to Maxie, to tell him that he idolized a liar and a rapist, who had received just punishment for his crimes. But Steve had told her not to speak out against the people who kept A.R.G.U.S. afloat, so instead she paused to find the right combination of words before finally responding, “It’s very well-woven.”
“Yes, it is,” Maxie said, seemingly ignorant of Diana’s noncommittal response. Then he said with sudden exuberance, “Come! Come, we have one final stop on the tour.”
He led her through the suite, away from the crowd and into a bedroom. “Please, take a seat,” Maxie said. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”
Diana sat down on a chair in the corner as Maxie slipped behind a screen. “Diana, there’s something you should know about me,” he said as his jacket flopped over the screen, followed by his tie. “We have something in common. You are a part of a history that our neglectful modern society has swept away under the dismissive and derogatory label of ‘mythology.’ I, too, like to think of myself as part of this rich and valuable lore.”
Maxie steeped out behind the screen, and Diana nearly jumped at his appearance. He was now wearing a clean, white chiton that exposed his sinewy frame. Pinned on it was golden circular badge with a sigil of a cloud and a lightning bolt on it. Maxie seemed proud that he had elicited such a reaction from Diana.
“Mr. Nikolaidis,” she said, unsure of where he was going. “I…”
“Diana, I told you, Mr. Nikolaidis was my father,” Maxie interrupted her. “He was…a vile man. He was a drunkard, and he was cruel, and it sickens me that I’ve had to share a name with that man.” The mirth that once characterized him bled from his voice as he went on, and then bounced back just as quickly. “But you, my beautiful muse, you’ve inspired me. You see, I did my research on the original Wonder Woman, and when I learned that she was a part of Olympic lore, I knew then that the stories I read as a child were true: the pantheon existed. The legends were real, and they had emissary walking in our world.”
Diana was still trying to make sense of his garb. “That’s…that’s wonderful, Maxie, but I don’t see how-”
“There’s more,” he pressed. “You see, one day, in the throes of a drunken stupor, my father told me the truth: that he wasn’t my father at all, that my mother conceived me with some other man. And then…then I realized the truth: the gods so often walked among the mortals, and sometimes even impregnated the ones they met. I thought I was one such child, and for the longest time, I wanted it to be true; to be special, to be extraordinary. And when I learned that the pantheon was real, it all made sense: I was the son of Zeus, the king of the gods. I had to be! It was the only thing that made sense!”
Clearly, Diana didn’t understand the sense Maxie had apparently made.
“I had to know more,” Maxie continued. “So I took my family’s fortune and I funneled it into A.R.G.U.S., hoping that the greatest historians, archaeologists, and mystics could find the pantheon, so I could know for certain. And then…you came along.” He looked at Diana was fascination and absolute adoration. “You, the most beautiful woman in the world, lovelier than Aphrodite herself, and bearing the armor that had sparked my transformation. You, my Wonder Woman, were perfect.”
He got down on one knee. “Diana, this world doesn’t deserve us – a world that rejects our lore in favor of false gods, or denial of the gods altogether. But with my considerable assets and your raw power, we can remake the world, and bring the Olympians back to Earth. Diana, princess of Themyscira; marry me, and together, Maximillian Zeus and Wonder Woman will do fantastic things with this world.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Maxie said, cutting her off. “I’m offering the chance to change the world for the better, and you deny me? The prince of the gods?”
She spoke in as calm a tone as she could muster. “I’d appreciate it if I wasn’t interrupted again, Maxie.”
“You DENY me?” he said, ignorant of her statement. “I am the son of Zeus, the scion of Olympus, and you, some woman, deny me?!”
Diana’s calm veneer was starting to crumble. “I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t speak to me like that.”
“YOU DON’T GET TO DO THAT!” Maxie grabbed her. “I will not have all my work undone by some overly willful b****! We WILL be married, and we WILL rule this world together!”
“Get off me!” Diana broke from his grasp with ease, shoving him back on the ground. He was red in the face with rage, and Diana was barely keeping her own anger contained. “You don’t get to touch me, you insane little man. Goodbye, Mr. Nikolaidis.” And with that, she marched out of the room.
As Maxie got to his feet and closed the door after her, he heard a voice say, “I told you it wouldn’t work.”
After the door latched, the illusion dropped, and another man was standing in the room. He was a dwarf, with stringy black hair, an ugly face, and wide, mad eyes. “She’s an independent creature, too smart for her own good.”
“She just needs some encouragement,” Maxie said as he smoothed the wrinkles out of his chiton by hand. “But she’ll see the light soon enough, and she’ll understand that my campaign is a righteous one.” Maxie looked at the dwarf. “Can you…encourage her, Doctor?”
“It won’t be instantaneous,” he answered. “I can subjugate someone quickly, but it’s sloppy and unpolished, and it won’t last. This one will take time…but you’ve allowed me close enough to see into her head, and plant the seed of my control.”
Dr. Edgar Cizko couldn’t help but crack a wicked grin. “By week’s end, Wonder Woman’s mind will be under my thumb, and this willful b**** will belong to you.”
To Be Continued...