Wonder Woman in London #6

Wonder Woman was created by Dr William Moulton Marston in 1941 and is the © copyright trademark of DC Comics. My Wonder Woman stories are only fan fiction and based, primarily, on the 1970s CBS TV show (albeit, updated to the present time of writing). However, any resources from adaptations and the comics may be utilised. All characters are entirely fictional. With the exception of Diana / Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor, the story and characters are my own creation, unless otherwise stated. In my stories there are no other superheroes in the world, except for Wonder Woman. 

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6. Meet Wonder Woman

Three firm taps on the door of Brana Benko’s apartment at George Washington University campus. “Who is it?” called a European voice.

“Mam, its Steve Trevor from the IADC. Open the door. I need to speak with you.”

The door opened to reveal a short, pretty faced young woman with bright green eyes. She wore only a pink towel, somehow, suspended over her buxom chest, which made her look tubbier than she really was. Not that Trevor had his mind solely on the aesthetics of his company. 

“Yes, I’m Brana Benko,” she confirmed, drying her wet mousy hair.

“How well do you know, Jake Powstar?”

“I would say I know Jake pretty well, err, intimately,” she replied, looking up at Steve, staring, seductively. 

“I see,” said Trevor, coarsely, “I was expecting you to say he’s your lecturer.”

“He’s that as well,” she flippantly added.

“I’m afraid, I have reason to believe there's heroin on this premises,” Trevor lamented.  

Brana was unmoved by the allegation, “So search me,” she teased, “Search wherever. You won’t find anything.”

Stepping outside, Trevor admitted, “I won’t, but I know somebody who might.”

He returned with an Alsatian. In under a minute, the dog was scratching its paws at a closet in the bedroom. The shock arrival and detection prompted a change of mood in Benko.

“Alright, Trevor, back off,” she said, pulling out a small pocket pistol from beneath her ample cleavage, “Put ‘em up.”

Steve did as he was told. 

Perhaps sensing the tension, the Alsatian abruptly barked, distracting Benko and allowing Trevor to rush her to the ground. Easily overwhelmed by the power of the big soldier, Brana lay on her back with Steve resting on her now exposed bosom. With both of her arms pinned to the floor by Steve’s, she loosened her grip on the gun.

Benko shut her eyelids and reopened them, slowly, “Steve Trevor, you’re one handsome man,” she conceded.   

“It’s at times like these, I really love my job,” he thought.

 

The chugging narrowboat spluttered to a halt.

“Ah, we’ve reached your final destination. We must be halfway through the tunnel,” Charmers assumed.

“Do I get a last request?” Diana asked.

Continuing to blow balls of smoke into the air, Harry chewed it over, “Yes, my dear, I can’t see why not - as long as it amuses me.”

“Okay, I'll try. In my jacket, underneath the right shoulder pad, there’s an electronic pager. The IADC continually update it. I’d like to know how close we came to solving the case before I go overboard. Oh, it’s also a tracker, locating my every move...”

“Clever, darling,” Charmers said, appearing unfazed, “I didn’t think turning off your mobile phone would be enough. Unfortunately, for you, I know men in high places who will vouch I was nowhere near the canals, the day you went splash. But let’s see your messages…”

No one could accuse Radomir Semanic of being a great talker. However, he was unusually mute as he passed Harry the pager without reading the messages, like his subordinate.

Harry read the messages newest to oldest, “Assassination of Jake Powstar averted… Brana Benko arrested… Strychnine in the heroin, a cover for murder… Fadhila confesses Radomir Semanic is behind the plot… What is this? Is this true?”

“Oh, it’s true, Harry,” insisted Diana, “Your psycho friend, here, intentionally sold you contaminated heroin, just so he could make his own murder scheme look like an accident.”

“RADOMIR, IS THIS TRUE?” bawled an enraged Charmers, throwing down his fists on onto the desk. “Have you been purposely supplying me bad dope?”

But Semanic had received his own shocking news: he never realised his plan had been thwarted. Diana rightly sensed his silence was an indicator – not of guilt – just of a psychopath about to turn nasty. 

He threw white heroin packets on the table, “It’s clean now, Harry,” he whispered.

“It’s CLEAN!” he exploded.

Before Harry could reply, Semanic grabbed the large man’s head and began shovelling the stuff into his mouth. Charmers tried to protest, inadvertently, making it easier for Semanic to push the packets to the back of his throat. At least one of the bags had broken and the white powder spread over Harry’s face. In a choking panic, he collapsed off his chair on to the floor. 

“What? Can’t take your own medicine?” Radomir scoffed, “A fat pig like you should have no problem.”

Still locked in her stocks with the chained balls, Diana knew she was next unless she thought fast. The madman knelt down to where she was sitting.

“You’re something else,” he admired, “The things I could do to you.” 

His eyes were bloodshot with rage; yet he acted calmly as he undid the first button of Diana’s silky white shirt; then the next one, pouring light on the shadowy depths of her cleavage.

“What have you been hiding from me, Miss Prince?” questioned the madman, breathing heavily.

“Err, aren’t you forgetting, three’s a crowd,” Diana pointed out, apprehensively.

Semanic turned to Charmers who, by this time, had drifted into unconsciousness.

“You’re right. I must deal with someone.”

With his knife in his hand, he left the cabin to the stern of the vessel, and shut the door.

Hurling herself off the chair with a thump, Diana landed, harshly, on her left shoulder. She rolled her body over, over, and over to the rear of the desk; this wasn’t an easy thing to do with four iron weights attached to the stocks. The clattering bangs must have been heard on the outside, though nobody came to investigate. Then, the shrieking last cry of a man echoed through the tunnel, answering why Diana’s clamouring hadn’t been checked.

Managing to use her wrist stocks to dig into the leather of Charmers’ seat, Diana pushed herself up onto it. To those who didn’t know her secret, it would seem something of a mystery why Miss Prince made such an effort to sit in Harry’s armchair, but the enlightened would easily understand her objective when informed the seat could swivel round three hundred and sixty degrees.

A burst of immense light shot out of the cabin windows as Semanic lowered Ricky Owen’s limp body into the water. Wrapped in anchor chains, the corpse sank without trace. Radomir wasn’t easily fooled, but it just happened he attributed the light to another craft, coincidently, entering the tunnel, rather than the surprising sight of Wonder Woman sitting at Harry’s desk.

“Owen was your last victim, Semanic,” Wonder Woman told him, placing the twisted remains of the steel stocks on the desk. “As you can see, I’ve freed Diana.”

Radomir wearily smiled, “So finally I get to meet the American legend, Wonder Woman.”

He took out his knife, “But are you human or machine? Let’s find out.”

The psychopath threateningly lurched towards Diana, switching the blade between hands. Without leaving the desk, Wonder Woman flung one of the ball and chains against Semanic’s gripping knife hand; the missile carried on out of the window; the blade went with it. Diana lobbed a second iron weight, this time, connecting to Radomir’s gut, taking him down with the falling glass from the window.

Wonder Woman stood up, “I’m tired of your games, Semanic - you’re a very evil man,” she sighed.          

    

The killer sat dishevelled in the corner, then hastily scrambled down the corridor. Wonder Woman took the remaining two balls and bowled them perfectly under Radomir’s feet, causing him to crash into the door of the forward cabin.

In the darkness of the room, Diana saw Semanic lying on his back, next to the bed, setting a digital device around his waist. Illuminated red numbers on the device read: “one, double zero.”

“It’s a bomb, Wonder Woman, set to go off in one minute’s time - and it can’t be stopped!” the madman informed, “What are you going to do? Who are you going to save? There's another boat in the tunnel.”

“Take it off,” ordered Wonder Woman.

“If I do, it’ll go boom,” Semanic rejoiced.

Whether or not Radomir was on the level was a too greater a risk to take; Diana rushed away. She slung the hefty unconscious weight of Harry Charmers over her back and took flight down the tunnel to the oncoming vessel; a tour boat packed with people. 

After dropping Charmers on the deck, Wonder Woman began to press the bow of the boat further underwater; raising the stern and its propeller out of the canal. Forcefully, she reversed the craft back through the passage. Those aboard yelled as they experienced the seemingly supernatural handling. Just as the tour boat returned to the entrance, a massive explosion erupted within the tunnel, shaking the whole of Islington.

Six foot waves surged down the canal, flooding the towpaths, leaving narrowboats stranded up embankments. Dirty pungent smoke ascended from both ends of the tunnel, blinding and choking the people. Streets, above, formed giant gashes, and buildings partially collapsed, causing chaos.
 

 

In the aftermath, several people reported their tour barge, miraculously, riding the huge waves. A couple of pensioners told police how they were swept off the towpath by a wave and, inexplicably, rescued by a shimmering golden rope. A man claimed he in his car was dragged out of a crater, backwards, by a particularly fine-looking woman, wearing what looked like a red star on her forehead. A mother with two young children described how they were trapped in the rubbly remains of her home, until an earthly angel of divine beauty smashed through a solid brick wall to lead them outside to safety.      

“BOLLOCKS!” Inspector Cummings later dismissed, “Big fat hairy bollocks at that – a bomb goes off and everybody starts hallucinating. I mean, Miss Prince, you heroically swam holding that fat crook, Harry Charmers, to the tour boat. Did you witness any of these supernatural occurrences?”

Diana pulled a coy smile, “Let’s just say, I didn’t see anything which I couldn’t explain by myself.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, “And may I say you’re looking very fetching this morning. Have you changed your mind about letting me take you for a slap-up meal - no expense spared - within limits?”

Dressed in a sparkling black dress, Diana replied, “You know, I think you should take your wife for a meal, John. And if you must know, Shandy has invited me to the theatre.”

The Inspector looked flabbergasted, “Well, I never…”

“No, not the theatre,” corrected Reynolds, walking into the office, “I’m taking you to the Theatre of Dreams – Old Trafford – Manchester United are playing Arsenal.”

“A soccer match?” queried Diana.

“A football match, two hundred miles away, or more,” laughed the Inspector.

“Then, it’s just as well I’m a sporty girl,” Diana said, taking Shandy’s arm and grinning profusely.       

THANK YOU FOR READING!

DECEIVER