Wonder Woman: Obsolete (part 2)

At the amazon’s fateful words, many eyes widened. Men sharing quick looks, murmuring quietly to each other. Most of them hadn’t believed someone with Wonder Woman’s immense power would ever submit to those conditions, that this was only a brief interlude in a battle where she would eventually fall under overwhelming numbers and technology. Many others had thought they would have to kill the super female to take her back to their compound. Only a few had even thought it possible that their quarry would surrender.

Fausta didn’t even flinch.

The moment Diana blurted the fateful words, the villainess offered a crisp nod. The amazon had finally reached the inevitable conclusion she herself had arrived at hours ago.

“Then we have an accord.” She simply said, letting her enemy’s chin drop, “Excellent.”

Once allowed, Diana lowered her head, no longer feeling worthy to hold it high. All her pride in her heritage and her certainty that she would save mankind had come back upon her. She never should have left Themyscira. She was no hero and her surrender to Fausta was the closest to a savior she had ever been. In a way, she realized, she was lucky her enemy was being so merciful in victory.

As Diana wallowed in depression, Fausta turned sidelong to address the men behind her.

“Containment and transport procedures!” she snapped her fingers, “Standby the pulses! Quickly!”

Men turned and ran back to the trucks. Several jumped into the backs, while others waited outside, ready to help unload.

While the men inside the trucks handed equipment down to the men outside, Fausta turned back to her new prisoner. The villainess’s face was the same marbled mask it always was, but there was the hint of an edge to her aloof smile, a shine in her icy stare. Her eyes flicked up and down, from Wonder Woman’s toes to her head.

Diana’s innocent beauty belied her power. Though toned, arms grooved with smooth muscle, her shoulders were fairly slim, hardly looking like they could lift a tank over her head. Her thighs were full with strength and narrowed gracefully towards her knees, certainly athletic but girlish, a model rather than an unstoppable force. In some ways she appeared lovely, but fragile, someone who would break against a wall rather than smashing through it.

Still, there was a quality about Wonder Woman that was undoubtedly divine. There was not a single mark or blemish on her skin, her raven hair glossy and perfect even when everything else around her was covered in dust. The red and gold of her breast plate had the polish of a showroom sports car, her brief, blue skirts such a shine they barely even looked like leather. Every color on her was brighter, her very skin seeming to glow compared to her surroundings, like she had been drawn out of a heroic legend into a much more drab, pedestrian world.

Fausta clasped Diana’s shoulder in a forceps-like grip, squeezing carefully with her fingers.

“Mmm,” she mused, “Very good.”

Her hand made its way down Diana’s arm, pinching thoughtfully every few inches, feeling the soft skin, the slender tone.

“Not even a bruise or a scratch,” the scientist remarked, “And no protrusions or abnormalities to indicate freakish strength. Intriguing.”

Diana kept her head lowered, but her composure buckled under the villainess’s scrutinizing touch. She shifted her feet, fidgeting, eyes searching the ground for something to focus on rather than the exploratory fingers squeezing her like they were testing the ripeness of a fruit.

At the humbled amazon’s squirming, Fausta slipped her fingers from Wonder Woman’s arm and instead reached for her glossy black hair. In a surprisingly soothing gesture, she combed her fingernails through Diana’s locks.

“You may relax, Wonder Woman,” she said gently, “I hold no animosity towards you. I never had any love for the Nazis. So short-sighted, arrogant, vindictive. Wasteful, war-mongering, destructive pigs.”

She ran her fingers along the crown of Diana’s head, then drew back to do it again.

“You aided in conquering my country and now I have conquered you. Soon you will be my vindication, the vessel of my greatest achievements,” Fausta strolled to the amazon’s side, “I consider that more than a fair trade for a decade of exile.”

Diana stiffened at first when she felt the German’s hand smooth up the back of her thigh. This touch was less scientific and precise. Fausta wasn’t testing anything or feeling for abnormalities, she was just feeling the tight hamstrings, the smooth shape of her leg that broadened as it approached her hips. It was slow, teasing, cautious.

As the hand snuck towards her skirt, Diana closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. Her surrender had given the woman rights to her body. Such touching was allowed, even expected. Fausta was testing her in a different way now, seeing if she would react or protest.

Diana would do neither. It was for the best.

Fausta’s touch slipped under her gladiator skirts, fingers spreading out as they rounded over the bubbled globes beneath. Once she found them, the villainess smoothed her hand back and forward, over the tightly held shapes and the valley where they pressed together. Diana’s undergarment was meant for freedom of motion rather than modesty, fitting snugly between and allowing the exploring hand to feel much smooth skin.

Diana’s arms remained at her sides, her head lowered, not even flinching.

“Hmm.” Fausta continued to feel back and forward, “You truly are capable of submission. Perhaps somewhat tame prior to our meeting today.”

She squeezed a cheek. It remained full but soft, unresisting.

“That is good. You will make an excellent subject. And I will use you to your fullest potential.”

As Fausta smiled and continued to enjoy her captive’s docility, footsteps rushed towards them.

Diana opened her eyes and lifted her head enough to see the approaching men.

Fausta’s hired hands had returned from the trucks, laden with gear. A group of four carried a large, metal stretcher between them, each holding a handle. They trotted beside the two women and set it down on metal supports while another pair carried a large box between them, setting it down beside the stretcher and quickly opening it up to retrieve the devices stored inside. The final pair hurried directly up to Fausta, one carrying a brown doctor’s bag while the other held what looked like a large glue gun gas cannister on the side.

The glue gun pair stopped in front of their paymaster and waited for instructions.

Though not appearing to notice them, Fausta removed her hand from under Diana’s skirt and instead took the amazon by the arm, taking a small step back.

“Proceed, gentlemen,” she said without taking her eyes off her captive, “It should make the next part easier.”

The men nodded and moved to Diana’s opposite shoulder. The one with the bag produced a capsule of iodine, cracked it open then spread the brown fluid in a circle on the heroine’s skin with a patch of gauze.

Diana watched, only slightly curious. It was difficult to be too concerned about what was happening to her when she had no control over the outcome.

“This will relax you, Wonder Woman,” Fausta explained, “Ease any anxiety you may have about the possibility of resistance.”

Once the spot on her shoulder was properly disinfected, the other man pressed the tip of the “glue gun” to her shoulder and pulled the trigger. A sharp hiss of pressurized air accompanied a quick pain that made Diana wince with surprise. The coolness of fluid entering her warm body followed, the injection spot burning slightly.

“I’m sure we won’t need them, but the electric pulses will also keep you in hand should you break your word,” Fausta gestured to the coils in their blue fish tanks, “If triggered, they will send an electric charge that will incapacitate you and most likely kill anyone not shielded. I leave nothing to chance.”

As the injection team returned to the trucks with their equipment, Diana rubbed the throbbing place on her shoulder and looked down at what the other men were doing.

“I leave nothing to chance,” Fausta continued, “So be at ease. I assure you, you are well in hand.”

Diana nodded slowly in acceptance.

“I… understand.” She continued watching the men work.

“Excellent,” Fausta smiled in approval, “I appreciate your acceptance of reality, despite how uncomfortable it must be for you. Soon you will see that it makes things much easier.”

The stretcher was clearly more than just an apparatus for carrying a nonambulatory person. The bed was padded with vinyl, formed to fit a figure with proportions very similar to Diana’s, but it also boasted thick, steel loops and cuffs meant to lock someone down at most major points of articulation. As Diana watched, three of the men worked the locks and cuffs back and forward, making sure they were fully functional, while the fourth checked the gauge on a tank of anesthetic gas that was locked into the base. The tank fed through a hose reinforced with metal rings, into a mask that would cover someone’s mouth and nose, resting on the indentation in the vinyl meant to hold the patient’s head.

The other pair had taken several thick straps out of their box, heavy duty buckles in the back while on the front were attached black, plate-sized discs. The discs were made of metal and rubber and had curling antennae that stood out next to volt gauges in the devices’ centers. One of the men pressed a button on brick-sized remote control and the discs hummed, the needles on the volt gauges jumping into the red.

Diana was starting to deduce the manner in which she would be transported, when she began to feel dizzy. She blinked, instinctively trying to clear her head, only for it to make the world whirl even more. Her legs grew unsteady and she swayed, tottering half a step to regain her balance before letting out a low moan.

Fausta handed the megaphone to one of her men and took Diana under an arm to help steady her. Her eyes were alight with scientific fascination.

“Don’t try to move too fast,” she looped her arm helpfully around Diana’s waist, “The serum is doing its work. Though it’s fascinating that you are so resistant to bludgeoning and extreme temperatures, yet as vulnerable to a simple needle as any other creature. A nuance worth exploring.”

Diana wasn’t so weak yet that she couldn’t stand, but she allowed Fausta to support her.

She walked Diana forwards, towards the cameras, and the heroine walked obediently beside her, looking tipsy, slightly disoriented.

The cameras remained trained on the two women, following them as they drew closer.

“How does the serum make you feel, Wonder Woman?” Fausta asked.

They stopped about 6 paces from the camera crews. The cameras themselves turned so far inward to keep the women in center frame, that they nearly caught each other in the shot.

“I feel… dizzy…” Diana responded, blinking at the cameras, “heavy… taste in my mouth…”

“That’s normal,” Fausta said, “Just relax, let it run its course.”

A fretful frown pinched Diana’s brow as the lenses focused on her, zooming in on her troubled face. She had an uncomfortable suspicion of what would happen next that wasn’t assuaged by her growing drowsiness.

They stopped a few paces from the cameras, then the villainess stepped away, allowing Diana to support herself.

Diana stumbled before she managed to balance, shoulders slumped and head hanging with more than shame. Miserable, blinking bleary eyes, she swayed in place, wanting to crumple.

“It’s working very well, I see,” Fausta took her by the shoulders, “Good. Now turn this way, towards me. Good…”

With the other woman’s hands on her shoulders, Diana allowed herself to be turned. Facing the victorious Fausta, she stared sadly, almost pleadingly.

“Don’t worry,” the scientist cupped her chin with a sly smile, “You will rest soon.”

Fausta glanced at the cameramen, checking that they were ready.

Diana allowed her captor’s hand to support her, almost leaning into it. Her weary eyes started to drift closed.

Once Fausta received a thumbs up from her men, she turned back to Diana. Seeing the amazon was starting to fall asleep, she snapped her fingers.

Diana’s eyes fluttered open, momentarily disoriented before they focused back on the woman before her.

“Listen.” Fausta told her, “It is time now.”

She released Diana’s chin and the amazon swayed in place, offset by suddenly losing her support.

The scientist put a hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn’t fall, “It is time to show the world the truth. That your power is all too real, but that inevitably it could only fall before German ingenuity and planning. My ingenuity and planning.”

Fausta steadied Diana for a moment, then drew back to cross her arms across her chest. She didn’t do anything so theatrical as to lift her nose in the air or stick out her chest. Her superiority was evidenced enough already, and soon would be an irrefutable fact.

She flicked her eyes toward the ground, then said slowly, tasting each word on her tongue:

“Kneel, Wonder Woman.”

Diana shifted in place, forlorn and lost. She had only ever knelt before her queen and mother and had never believed she would do so at the order of a mortal, someone who wasn’t even truly a warrior. She had come here knowing she would never bow in man’s world, especially not TO man’s world.

But she was so tired. She couldn’t change this world; on the contrary, it had changed her. Its realities had beaten her, hollowed her out, and now Fausta had used them to finish her. There was nothing else she could do.

A mixture of weakness and hopelessness brought Diana down. She let go and allowed herself to fall forward and hit the ground with a clank of her armored knees, the impact bobbling her bowed head. She stared at Fausta’s boots for a moment, kneeling but upright, then dropped back onto her heels with a similar, careless flop.

Fausta’s eyes narrowed with pleasure. Around her, a few of the men chuckled.

“Good.” The villainess said, “And your weapons.”

Diana raised her eyes, looking up to her mortal captor.

“The days of the sword and shield are long past, Wonder Woman,” Fausta shook her head, pitying the amazon, “They are unnecessary. Lay them at my feet now.”

Diana slowly nodded and bowed her head once more. Due to the serum and having no heart in her task, her movements were dreamily slow, clumsy. She reached back past her shoulder, groping a few times before she found the hilt of her sword. She dragged it free with a long rasp of steel on steel. The weapon reflected light like a mirror, made from materials and with the artisanship of the Greek gods. There was none like it on Earth.

Diana took the sword in both hands and bowed forward. She laid it in the dirt at Fausta’s feet, her prostrated position giving the men behind her a view up the back of her warrior’s skirts.

A few of the mercenaries murmured, nudging each other and grinning.

The shield came next, lifted off her back and laid beside the sword. Shields were as important as swords in amazon culture, if not more so. The sword attacked, but the shield was to protect not oneself, but one’s sisters in combat formation, a symbol of trust and comradery. Now it lay upside down in the dirt, like a food bowl for a very large dog.

Diana drew back to plop her bottom on her heels once more, head bowed in shame and submission.

Fausta glanced at her men then nodded towards the discarded weapons. Several of them rushed forward and bent down, picking up the items in cotton cloths and retreating just as quickly.

Their paymaster waited until they were well out of the way before turning back toward Diana and continuing.

“Very good,” she said lightly, “Now your lasso.”

She held out her hand.

Diana looked down. The lasso gleamed at her hip, coiled and hanging from a loop on the golden waist of her skirts. It looked innocuous, like just a decoration on the gleaming armor and beautiful body. One wouldn’t know that it was a singular, sacred artifact of the amazons, a symbol of pure truth.

Diana placed her hand on her golden belt and unsnapped the loop. She away as she took the golden lanyard in hand; after having drawn the lasso so many times she didn’t need to watch and couldn’t stand to see herself hand the legendary artifact over.

Eyes still turned away, she held the lasso out and placed it in Fausta’s hand.

In return, the villainess placed her hand on Diana’s bowed head, smoothing down the raven hair with her palm.

“There, there,” she said, “There’s no shame in accepting reality. The time of Homeric epics and mythical heroes is done, Wonder Woman. It has given way to science, industry, and invention.”

Fausta continued to stroke Diana’s hair as she tucked the golden lasso into her belt.

Weak, despondent, humiliated, the gentle petting of her head was the only thing that felt good right then. Despite its patronizing nature, it was soothing, assuaging her dizziness and general misery. Too overwrought and weary to think clearly, she sighed softly, relaxing under the touch. She didn’t want it to stop.

Fausta gave the humbled heroine a few more pets, then reached down to take her chin. She cupped it and lifted Diana’s face, to see the drowsy, uninhibited expression. Her sad eyes were heavy, her angelic features slack, entirely empty of defiance, almost lifeless.

The villainess smiled, tracing a finger over the embossed star on the amazon’s gleaming tiara.

“Your defeat was not only inevitable, Wonder Woman,” she smiled, “It is… correct. Seemly. It is the proper way for this game to end.”

Then she took Diana’s golden tiara, the one given to her by her teacher, and slowly drew it up, over her brow.

As Fausta removed her head piece, Diana’s listless eyes noticed movement among the men near the trucks. The hired hands were bringing out metal chests, varying in size from crates to guitar cases. While she watched, men were carefully wrapping her sword and shield in padding, then laying them down in open cases, handling them with care. Her weapons were being packaged for transport.

Fausta slipped the tiara up over Diana’s head, then drew it free, allowing the heroine’s dark hair to spill back down over her shoulders. Still cupping Diana’s chin, she held the golden ornament up, glinting sunlight off its grooves and smooth lines.

“You made the wise choice,” she admired the craftsmanship, “You recognized the check mate when you saw it, rather than continuing a pointlessly destructive resistance. Imagine if our leaders were willing to swallow their pride and do the same…”

The smug scientist held the tiara for another moment, then handed it to one of her men, with quick directions to package it separately. Then she turned back to her bowed, kneeling captive.

Fausta had claimed there were no hard feelings, but now there was a tiny spark of malice in her eyes, a slight edge to her normally wry, aloof smile. She released Diana’s chin and put a hand on her head, guiding it down.

“Now then,” she turned away, eyeing her men, “Gentlemen? Collect the prisoner’s armor, please.”

Diana lifted her head just enough to see half a dozen men marching towards her. They were business-like, even bored, or grinned faintly to themselves, no longer impressed by her. Unafraid.

She was quickly surrounded and fallen upon with the callous speed of a race car pit crew. They worked in tandem on different pieces at once, undoing buckles and loosening strings so fast she couldn’t keep up with it in her drugged state. It was dizzying and she blinked as she tried to watch their work, looking slightly bewildered.

Her wrist was lifted and turned out, the straps on her bracer unbuckled while at the same time the catches on her boots were undone. She turned back to gawk as one of the men loosened her skirts, only for her cherry breast plate to be drawn open.

“Unh…” she grunted in surprise as one of them lifted her arms over her head to draw her breast plate from her body, then was further disoriented when they jerked her upright so they could work her boots out from under her. Before she even realized it was gone, she saw a man carrying away her shining breastplate, taking it to be wrapped and sealed in a case.

While Wonder Woman was being stripped of her famous armor, Fausta took the golden lanyard from her belt. She drew out one end of the line and looped it, making a careful, precise slip knot. A moment later she undid it and tried again. She wasn’t as skilled with the rope as Diana and it took concentration for her to make it into a lasso.

It finished as quickly as it began. Diana’s bracers were pulled free and her arms allowed to drop to her sides. The men undid her skirt and opened it, drawing it off her hips, while at the same time they slipped the golden armlet down her bicep. In the next instant they were done and the heroine flopped miserably onto her heels once more, watching as the men carried away the last of her amazon equipment.

The barefoot, slumped figure the men left behind was no doubt gracefully nubile, beautiful, and splendidly feminine, but few would have taken her to be an amazon warrior. She had been left in practically nothing, a blue cloth that wrapped her breasts together and a small, snug undergarment that revealed so much that some of the men almost couldn’t see it. Her body was smooth and perfect, unmarked, the swell of her thighs and calves pressed together while her legs remained folded beneath her. She was clearly athletic, but collapsed, spent, vulnerable. Without the armor, she was like a lion shorn of its mane.

Fausta approached, golden lasso in hand.

While the men methodically wrapped Wonder Woman’s armor and sealed it in metal boxes, their paymaster stopped in front of the cameras. She held up the loop in one hand, while the rest glittered in a gleaming coil in her other hand. Displaying the lasso, she looked directly into the right camera, addressing her audience.

“This is the golden lariat of Hestia,” Fausta explained.

She held it up higher so the cameras could catch the light glittering off the immaculate, golden strands.

“Also known as the lasso of truth,” the scientist lectured, “this rope has several unique properties. I’ve witnessed it lift fully loaded Tiger tanks without reinforcement and generate at least 1500 lumins of light without an attached battery. However, it has one function that is singularly useful and worthy of exploration.”

Fausta smiled, then turned back to Diana. In no way an expert, she didn’t toss the lasso around her target’s shoulders but strode towards her, threading the loop wider to make sure it fit. Once within reach, she simply lowered the lasso over her captive’s head and shoulders.

Diana didn’t react to her own lasso being looped around her arms. She watched Fausta solemnly, waiting for what was coming, accepting it.

“The lasso produces a field of that affects only a person bound within it. I will have to study further to understand the nature of this field, but it has a notable symptom.”

Fausta pulled the lasso tight. It squeezed Diana’s arms into her breasts, pressing them out beneath the thin, almost tape-like cloth holding them.

“It produces a compulsion in the subject, not only removing their ability to lie,” the villainess gestured towards the bound amazon, “But forcing them to speak the truth.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the golden lasso lit up, glowing like it was white-hot. Fausta didn’t react, but Diana gasped, her eyes fluttering wide as the power of the lanyard rushed through her like a jolt of electricity. Her mouth fell open and she stared at her captor, from sluggish and drowsy to alert in an instant.

Fausta turned her attention back to her captive. Holding the line tight with one hand, she placed the other on her hip.

“Wonder Woman,” she said, “Who are you? What do you call yourself?”

Diana’s lips moved and she spoke before she knew what she was going to say.

“I… am Diana of Themyscira,” she mumbled, with none of her usual pride, “Daughter of Queen Hippolyta… Princess… Champion of the amazons.”

She paused, thinking she was done, but the lasso’s power forced more words from her lips.

“I-I am also known as Diana Prince. In man’s world. Anthropologist, archeologist.”

Fausta nodded slowly, smiling to herself, “Interesting. I had wondered…”

The villainess stroked the lasso between thumb and forefinger. She mused, considering her next question.

“Wonder Woman, or should I say Diana…” she said, “Are you beaten?”

Diana drew in a sharp breath. Her inclination was to remain silent, but the lasso didn’t even allow her to hesitate. Her eyes widened with surprise. She’d never felt the power of her own lasso before.

“Y-yes…” she said softly, “I… am beaten.”

“And do you remember the terms of your surrender?”

“Yes…” Diana’s brow knitted tight with grief, “My complete, immediate submission. My belongings. Absolute ownership of my body. Cooperation with interviews and procedures. Obedience to you. I am to be your prisoner, willingly.”

“Good,” Fausta raised an eyebrow, “And will you follow these terms, as long as I wish it?”

The princess spoke but her voice was weary and detached, like she was reading from a script.

“Yes…” Diana said, “I… surrender myself… to your custody. I am your prisoner. No rights except the ones you give me.”

The words continued to flow out and her heart sank as they did. Even in the grip of the lasso, her shoulders slouched, her eyes growing sad, too tired to cry. She could only listen to herself speaking, knowing that under the lasso every word she said was true.

“I submit to you. I… will obey. I will never resist you or defy you. I accept your… ownership.”

Fausta’s smile grew broader.

“Total victory,” Diana finished, “Over me… belongs to you, Fausta.”

The villainess outright grinned, abundantly pleased with Wonder Woman’s pledge of submission.

There were a few whoops and cheers from the soldiers, only to be quickly shushed.

In buildings and hiding places in the yet untouched places of the town, the local inhabitants watched with surprise and growing confusion. Many of them spoke English but were too far away to hear what was being said and wouldn’t draw closer to the gathering of soldiers. A few climbed onto their roofs to try to see above the crowd but didn’t understand what they were seeing; they didn’t know where Wonder Woman had gone or where the almost naked, dark-haired woman had come from.

The only ones that truly understood the gravity of the moment were Wonder Woman and Fausta Garbles. That an immortal had bowed to a mortal, magic to science, idealism to practicality, purity to greed.

Diana lowered her eyes.

Fausta strode forward and laid her hand on the amazon’s head.

“I accept your surrender, Diana of Themyscira,” she fondly brushed the heroine’s hair back with her fingers, “And I will hold to the terms of our agreement. You will be well handled in my care. I respect your willing submission and will be a fair, kind mistress. You may put your mind at ease.”

Diana released a heavy sigh and not of grief or pain. It was relieved, a release of tension, letting go of worries. It was over. There was nothing left to fret about.

With a final pat on the head, Fausta took the lasso’s golden loop and slipped it free of the heroine’s shoulders. As she stepped back, recoiling the precious artifact, Diana moaned and slumped in place, the sluggishness of the drugs coming back with a vengeance.

“Gentlemen, we’re done here!” the villainess called out, “Soldiers and mechs return to their personnel carriers! Disable the pulses, load up the cameras! I want us moving out in five minutes!”

The mercenaries and other hired hands immediately snapped to action. Subcommanders echoed the orders and men trotted towards the trucks, footsteps clattering, with the mechs slowly turning and taking thunderous, clanking steps in the same direction. The workers hurriedly saw to their equipment, flipping switches, closing panels, powering them down and hoisting them up. The cameramen carefully put covers over the lenses, double checking their work, while the men at the disabled the charges, putting them back into the protective cases.

As her men milled about and the air rang with the sounds of their work, Fausta turned to her containment teams, still standing by their equipment.

“Secure her for transport,” she said in a softer voice, “Gently, please. She is durable, but quite valuable all the same.”

The men nodded and hurried towards her.

Diana was drooping forwards, threatening to fall onto her face when one of the men took her under the arms. He lifted her back upright, holding her arms up over her head, while another man wrapped one of the disc-bearing straps over her chest. She blinked, eyes cloudy and unfocused, letting out a soft grunt as the men tightened the strap and placed more over her biceps and thighs.

Fausta looked over their heads, inspecting the men’s work. Of all the jobs her underlings were assigned, this was the most important and she enjoyed watching her devices being put to their proper use. And she especially enjoyed seeing them being used on Wonder Woman, after all this time.

“Just there,” she said as she watched, “Yes. No need to increase the voltage yet. Only if she resists, which I think is unlikely.”

Diana’s head bobbled as her limbs were manipulated, but she managed to look down at herself and see one of the discs tightened over her breasts, another pair squeezing her thighs. She was too groggy to fully understand their purpose and was still staring when she found herself scooped up and lifted off the ground.

Surprised, disoriented by the sudden motion, the amazon’s widened and she instinctively tried to kick, but only managed to flop drunkenly. One man had her under the arms, while another man had scooped under her knees and they had picked her up between them with much greater ease than they had picked up the crates.

“Gently, now.” Fausta told them.

Overwhelmed by all the motion, Diana’s eyes started to roll back before the men laid her down on the stretcher. The padding fit her perfectly and they eased her down into it, her bottom touching first before they laid down her shoulders and legs.

“Nhhh…” she moaned as she sank into the cushions, finally comfortable. Her bedding was deliciously soft, supporting her weary body, easing her dizziness.

Her eyes drifted closed, not even noticing as the men positioned her feet and hands into the metal cuffs.

“Yes,” Fausta told her, “Rest now, Wonder Woman. All is well.”

Diana didn’t care about the thick metal links that locked in place over her wrists, ankles, knees, thighs, biceps, waist, under her arms and other places. It all felt so snug, keeping her safe in her resting place, like she was being swaddled. She was only disturbed for a moment when a mask was fitted over her mouth and nose, temporarily stifling her breathing.

She peeled her eyes open to slits, barely able to make out the blurry shapes of Fausta and her men looming over her.

“Give her just enough so she’ll have a pleasant sleep through the return trip,” she heard the villainess say, “Better that she remains unconscious. She will be easier to transport.”

Gas whispered into the mask and Diana’s lashes fluttered. For a moment her vision cleared enough to see Fausta looming over her, stroking her hair.

“Yes. Good. It’s working perfectly.”

Then her eyes were dragged closed of their own accord and her consciousness tumbled down into a deep hole where everything was dark and comfortable.

---------

Each man took a corner of the stretcher and picked it up with its unconscious occupant and carried it briskly away, towards the trucks.

Fausta followed, watching them lay Wonder Woman down on the truck’s bed, allowing others to drag her the rest of the way in. She herself hopped into the back next to them, keeping her eyes on her well-earned prize.

Wonder Woman was lovely in her sleep, her pouty lips pursed, brow smooth and relaxed, almost child-like in her innocence.

She hadn’t counted on the amazon surrendering so quickly and the reasons behind it intrigued her. However, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. There would be plenty of time to explore Wonder Woman’s motivations now that she was safely in hand. And much more.

The villainess reached under the seat for a radio transmitter, then brought it to her lips.

“Well done, gentlemen. A bonus for all of you.”

She released the transmit button, giving them a moment to enjoy the praise.

“Now back to the helicopters. Inform the personnel at the compound that we’re en route with the package in hand. We’ll soon be home.”

The lead truck pulled a wide U-turn and the others followed, kicking up gravel as the made to rendezvous with the combat units’ personnel carriers. They left behind wreckage, rubble, and roughly 15,000 confused Brazilians, who had little idea of what had just occurred.