08 When in Rome
“So… No doors were opened by the Divina Key,” Inspector
Sergio Nico, ironically, mused.
He sat at his temporary desk in Rome’s Central Police
Station, profiling the extraordinary suspects, in partial disbelief, at how
inexplicable the case had become - little did he know, it was about to get much
stranger …
“Marco Ferreira is ready to talk,” he was informed, via the phone.
The news was quite a surprise. Sergio interrogated Ferreira
for five hours – and got nowhere – on the day the Lost Siren handed him over to
the Vatican’s Swiss Guards. Sergio learned by experience, how a detective should be, at
least, one step ahead of the criminal. In this case he wasn’t, and,
subsequently, experienced an uneasy anxiety on the way to the interview room.
The sky was blushed pink by early evening. The day had been
humid. The tremors left the City unusually quiet, although the station was besieged
with frantic callers. Nico had fine-tuned the art of drowning out such commotion.
He sat, passively, waiting for Ferreira to refine his statement.
“Oh, dear God, have you seen it out there?” Ferreira
pleaded, “Hell on Earth is falling out the sky.”
The terrorist was perspiring and his eyes became bulbous
with a desperate glimmer, “Rome is no more. The Vatican shall fall. Go to your
family. Say you love them. There’s no escaping …”
He carried on ranting, inanely, while the Inspector requested
a psychiatric assessment to the officer outside the door. To Nico’s surprise,
he was informed that Diana Prince wished to participate in the interview. Sure
enough, Miss Prince sprang up the corridor, in a navy blue jump suit.
“I have grave concerns about the safety of this suspect,”
Diana whispered to Nico at the door.
“We learned Ferreira is a paid gunman, the most he knows is who hired
him,” the inspector supposed, “But, for the moment, he seems to have lost his mind.”
“I need custodial consent to take
him to Serena Rocca,” Diana explained, “If they recognise one another, then we’ll
know if they’re involved.”
“You know where Rocca is hiding?”
Diana elegantly smiled, “You could
say I know her stakeout.” She put her right hand delicately into Sergio’s,
“Will you help me, Inspector?”
Such an invitation was difficult
for any man to refuse; Nico always appreciated the seductive charms of a
beautiful woman.
“But how can I refuse?” he said,
“Wait here, I’ll get the order.”
When the Inspector was out of
sight, Diana went into the interview room where Ferreira was still reciting
crazy gibberish. She sat opposite him at the table.
“Look at me,” She gently invited, “Do
you think I don’t get scared?”
Something about her soft reassuring
tone brought him to a gentle ease. Marco met her ocean blue eyes and he calmed,
considerably.
“There, was that so bad? Now, what
did you tell the police? Did you mention you entered Vatican City from Cardinal
Mendo’s tomb?” she asked.
“Terribile! I’m going to make a statement. I’m going to tell them the
hell I saw in there.”
“Good, use my pen,” said Diana, rapidly
hitting Ferreira in the eye with her fountain tip.
Marco was dead instantly, but - as
if to make sure - Diana pulled the man’s head back off the desk, and squeezed
the murder weapon all the way into his skull. She left him with his head lying
on its side, against the desk, with blood draining out of his orbital, grimly,
dripping off the table.
Nico returned to see the horrific
sight of the dead detainee. The guard swore Agent Prince had been the only
one in the interview room and left promptly. He rushed out on to the
street, only to find she was nowhere to be found.
He now knew what all the commotion
was about; the streets were choking with soot and raging fires in the trees, on
buildings, and vehicles. Sergio stood thinking; could this have been the madness Marco
was telling him all along? Rome was, indeed, burning ...
Diana
awoke once, again, at the riverside. The magna was still falling. She had been
protected by overhanging branches of a near tree. There was still a terrible
weakness, about her, when she struggled to her feet.
Wonder
Woman’s location was relatively secluded. She tried to spin but couldn’t find her
normal rhythm; her arms were flailing as she stumbled out of position. She
composed herself and tried, once more, without the desired effect.
Over
on the bridge, a plume of black smoke erupted in the back of a truck. The vehicle was carrying a set of tyres which had caught fire by the airborne magna. In his panic, the driver
slammed down on the brakes. The following vehicles all crunched into one
another. At first, all involved appeared to have escaped, unhurt, however it soon emerged
a mother and child were trapped, in their car, behind the truck.
With
her extra sensitive hearing, Diana could pick out the cries for help. This just happened to be the kind of motivation she
needed. She poised herself, and with the grace of a ballerina, spun with conviction. Three cycles later, an
explosion of light flashed through the tree’s branches; Wonder Woman stood restored in vigour and costume.
The
dirty smoke puffed high into the sky. Wonder Woman touched down at the scene of
the accident. She was quick to test her renewed strength; afraid the truck might
go up in smoke, altogether, Wonder Woman hauled the large weighty vehicle up on
its side and, then, tipped it into the Tiber.
Now
the major danger was abated, she ripped the warped doors off the driver’s side
of the car, as easily as using a chainsaw. The driver scrambled outside; Diana
handed the mother her little boy who was still in his booster seat; Wonder
Woman had torn it from its holdings. After seeing them to safety over the
bridge, Princess Rosetta was Diana’s next concern.
At
Rome Cavalieri Hotel, the princess stepped into the back of her limousine where
she was greeted by Diana Prince.
“It’s
my duty to escort you to the Vatican,” the I.A.D.C agent informed, “The pope
wants to see you, urgently.”
“Very
well,” she said.
They
drove through the smoking city; small fires were scattered around every corner.
The princess was a little scared, but she had her royal pride, and tried not to
show any weakness in front of Diana. A tailback of traffic on Via Leone IV
halted the limousine’s progress. The two passengers sat in relative silence, till Rosetta
could stand it no longer.
“Is
this about Louis?” she inquired, “You’re welcome to him - he betrayed me.
Serena betrayed me. Everybody betrayed me. In fact, right now, you’re the only
one I trust.”
“You
really should learn to be a better judge of character,” Diana advised her,
bluntly.
The
limo door swung open, “I couldn’t agree, more,” said Wonder Woman.
For
a few bewitching seconds, the doppelgangers stared each other out.
“Well,
I must admit, not a bad job,” confessed Wonder Woman, “But in Rome, they prefer
the real thing to fakes.”
The
comment incensed Diana Prince to lunge into Wonder Woman. She went straight for
the juggler; clasping her hands tightly round Wonder Woman’s neck. Prince lay
on top of her, in the road beside the car, straining to maintain her hold.
“I’ve
been looking forward to this,” she screamed, “All you have will soon be mine –
and nobody shall ever know the difference.”
Wonder
Woman felt her doppelganger’s hand apply pressure to her neck wound. She needed
a fast response, which came in the form of her fist launching, vertically, like
a rocket, up under Diana Prince’s fake chin.
The
imposter recoiled against the car. The blow caused hideous crossed lines to appear
throughout the diameter of her face. She was twitching, uncontrollably.
“What are you?” Wonder Woman queried, but her
opponent wasn’t in the mood for dialogue.
Rather,
she launched herself into a sparring duel with Wonder Woman. It was as fast as
it was brutal; Wonder Woman, literally, kept chipping away at her phoney’s
arms. Underneath her lush skin, cold grey slime sipped out.
Naturally,
a crowd began to gather on the street. The disturbance alerted the municipal
police who, immediately, recognised Diana Prince on their newest most wanted list.
Ironically,
Inspector Nico was stuck further down, in the same traffic jam, on his way back
from the same hotel, when he heard the news.
He
arrived on the scene in time to see Diana Prince’s lookalike thrown over the
limousine, courtesy of Wonder Woman. They may have been matched, equally, in
fast fighting reflexes, but there was no substitution for the holy power
enshrined in Wonder Woman’s golden girdle.
When
poor Princess Rosetta opened her door out of a guarded curiosity, Diana’s grounded
pretender seized the opportunity to take her hostage.
“Don’t
even think about it,” she shrieked, “I could break her neck before you were
even close.”
Wonder
Woman stood down, she didn’t need to think whether her own cloned abomination was
bluffing or not.
By this time, Diana Prince was looking quite gargoyle; there
were loose chippings on her arms and deeper cracks prizing apart the lines over
her lead coloured face. Perhaps, this was why Nico showed little hesitation in
zipping a bullet through her neck with pinpoint accuracy.
For
Diana, life is still a life, even if that life was created to commit evil. She
held the tarry flinted hand of her own Frankenstein’s monster, as she faded
back to just earth.
“I
have never seen anything like that. What was she?” wondered Sergio with the distraught princess clutching his arms, dearly.
Up
ahead, near the Vatican’s outer wall, a tour bus became diagonally spread
across the road. On the open top deck, a figure clapped.
“Congratulations!”
he shouted, “You can add yourself to your list of victims!”
Wonder
Woman looked up to see Cardinal Mendo, smugly, chuckling, as the police boarded
the stray vehicle.
“I
did rather hope poor belated Mr Dalton would bring an end to your reign of
terror, but it seems not even his archaically heroic self-sacrifice, could make
you give up your blood thirst.”
“Don’t
even go there,” warned Wonder Woman, ominously.
Two
officers took hold of the cardinal. Wonder Woman glided up off the ground,
landing on the bus.
“Go,
leave us,” Wonder Woman commanded, with arms on her waist. The police knew their duty,
but they weren’t about to argue with a woman who they had just seen fly by her
own accord.
“Alone
at last, Princess Diana,” Mendo said, cheekily.
“Okay,
demon,” Diana replied, “I assume you created Diana Prince from my DNA, in the
clay, and used the energy you salvaged, between Dalton and I, to bring her to
life?”
“It
was really very clever of me, wasn’t it? You must admit that.”
“Let’s
just get to the part where I ask you what you want?” Diana returned, almost as
cynically as what Mendo, himself.
The
Cardinal pulled a sickly smile, “The pope bowing at my feet,” he said, viciously, “I want the whole of humanity worshiping ME! Will that do?”
Diana
acknowledged the request with a weary smile, “Then you should have pretended to
be a rock star, instead of a cardinal.”
“Is
the lady mocking me?” barked Mendo, angrily.
“No,”
Diana replied, softly, “I’m waiting for you to tell me why you’ve made it so easy
for me to strike you – Something to do with the weather, perhaps?”
“I
am indebted to the Lost Siren for that little wonder,” the cardinal revealed.
Testing
her hypothesis, Wonder Woman moved slowly forward with caution. Mendo reacted
by bloating his cheeks with air; from his mouth he let loose a torrent of fire down
the length of the bus.
As he expected, Wonder Woman was quick enough to duck
under and away. If this wasn’t incredible enough, his arms quickly mutated into
the spiky wings of a serpent. He flapped into the sky, leaving his robes
behind.
Everybody
looked up, as the flying demon chased Wonder Woman through the air, like a bird
of prey. He let go of more bad breath; fire
balling a top floor office. Again, and again, he tried to engulf Wonder Woman
in his hellish flames, but she was too fast for his organic flamethrower.
Another
tactic was called for – the same tactic used by his minion – Mendo touchdown,
running into Princess Rosetta, on landing. Nico tried to defend her, but the demonic
cardinal knocked him away, violently, with his scaly new tail.
“Are
you okay, inspector?” asked Wonder Woman, landing beside the detective, “It’s alright, leave
him to me.”
“If
you could extinguish his mouth, I would readily fight the devil to the death,” Nico
bawled.
Wonder
Woman turned to him, thoughtfully, “Thank you, Inspector, but no death is necessary.”
“Good,”
snarled the demonic Mendo, “Then, I won’t give this tiny princess a kiss she’ll
never remember! Now, I want the pontiff out on the Balcony of St Peter’s
Basilica, kissing my hand as his new god in human form. Do understand, Wonder
Woman?”
Overhead,
helicopters flew all around; troops from the Italian Special Forces were
lowering down on the rooftops. Armed, crack-shot, police were scattered on every corner. Swiss Guards were ready for any invasion to the Vatican.
Wonder
Woman looked around, “Very well,” she accepted, “If you will spare Rosetta’s
life, I shall go and talk to the pope."
“Inspector,
radio the necessary authorities,” she said.
“You
have exactly thirty minutes - and no tricks,” Mendo warned, “Or I’ll ordain this
girl’s royal head on the cross of the Obelisk, and then, firestorm
Vatican City to the ground.”
People
amassed in St Peter’s Square along with hastily erected news crews. American
International News (AIN) was lucky to have their leading military correspondent,
Dan Corbett, in Rome, on vacation. He was only too happy to brush off the
dandruff from his jacket, flick back his greasy blonde hair, and give his
expert opinion on events.
“I
very strongly suspect, Virginia, this so-called demon is an Islamic
fundamentalist, using advanced Russian technology, which is bankrolled by those
pesky Arabs. I hate to say it, but this is the kind of mess we get into when our intelligence agencies are caught a sleep on the job.”
Virginia
turned to the camera, “You heard it here first, folks ...”
The
crowd became boisterous when they saw Wonder Woman - now wearing her long ceremonial cape - accompany the pope and some
cardinals on to the Balcony of Basilica.
Wonder
Woman took to the microphone, “Cardinal Mendo, I have spoken with the holy father. Please, join us on the balcony.”
Mendo’s
encompassing wings tossed Rosetta to Nico, as he lifted himself back into the air;
his cheeks blossomed ready with fire power, but no retaliation arose.
The
crowd of onlookers gasped as they saw the flying half-man, half-serpent,
flapping through the air. They rubbed their eyes when he then vanished, into
thin air, just as he was about to land on the balcony. Bizarrely, when Wonder Woman
stepped forward off the balcony, she also disappeared.
“Dan,
did you just see what I saw? Did this flying beast and Wonder Woman disappear
before our very eyes?”
“You’re
not dreaming, Virginia” told Corbett, “I saw it, too. I don’t know if we can
trust Wonder Woman, any more.”
He
turned to the camera and slicked his hair, “I promise, as your fearless
correspondent, Dan Corbett, I will make it my mission to find out who Wonder
Woman is really working for. God bless America!”
“Thanks,
Dan. You heard it here first, folks …”
Mendo
was furiously banging his tail against the inside of Wonder Woman’s invisible
aeroplane. She sat in the pilot seat and watched him, struggling to escape from
its locked bay. She powered the aircraft and it was soon propelling them
through the clouds, eventually, up into space. Once clear of the Earth's atmosphere,
she cut the engines.
Through
the windows, the demon realised where he had been taken. “No, Wonder Woman, you won't, you can’t - you live by compassion - don't do this ...”
“You
know, Mendo,” Wonder Woman said, via the intercom, “Maybe, you were right about
me.”
She
then casually pressed the bay doors open and the satanic cardinal was flushed
out into the cosmos. Diana watched him cartwheel into obscurity, before
returning to the Earth ...
Back
in Rome, the flames raging in the Lost Siren’s ancient treasure trove suddenly
ceased. A hand lifted the treasure chest open.
“You
survived,” a bespectacled Fourth Reich agent acknowledged, “But you might wish
you hadn’t, after Osinov has finished with you.”
Serena
was wounded, exhausted and dehydrated, “Adamski – they sent you after me? I
thought you were in prison?” she murmured, “Let Louis take the wrap, he’s the
one who owes money to Osinov.”
“Cesario
has already paid the price with his life.” Adamski informed, “We leave by boat, this
way ...”
Soon
after, a brewing thunderstorm lashed Rome; the cave tunnels below the Colossuem
fell in. Any remaining fires were distinguished, traffic for once, relieved, the
military gone, people dispersed; leaving only the media in St Peter’s Square.
Romans took the dramatic events of the day in their stride - the way they had
for over two thousand years.
Wonder
Woman returned to the Vatican’s gardens. She visited perimeter where she first met Mendo, and as she hoped, his tomb had gone. Before she left, Diana picked a lily from the Vatican's gardens.
Her next stop was
the River Tiber, where she threw the flower into the
water where Dalton gave his life, and watched it float off downstream.
At
dusk, Inspector Nico finally headed to his hotel when Wonder Woman surprised
him at his car. She reported the tragic death of Christopher Dalton and the
decapitated body of Louis Cesario. She learned Steve Trevor was already flying
out, in person, to identify the late Diana Prince, and to take her back to the
States for burial.
“Wonder
Woman, we owe you everything,” Nico praised, “But where did you vanish to, with
that demonic creature?”
“I
actually got the idea from you,” Diana explained, “He had plenty of fuel for
his fire in the atmosphere, so I took him to a place where there was none –
space.”
“Amazing,
you extinguished his flame?”
“Exactly
– which proves the old adage right, again - when in Rome, do as Romans do,”
Wonder Woman smiled, widely.
THANKS FOR READING!
DECEIVER
Ok great end. Just read it and appreciated of course but no time to elaborate where we can go from here. New secret identity for wonder woman ? Finish the battle against the fourth reich ? Where ? New threat ?
ReplyDeleteThanks. I made a decision to leave it open for a further sequel, while it not being totally necessary.
ReplyDeleteDay after comments: great story. In my opionion you keep improving in catching the spirit of the show and marston concept. Ww in london was a good story, ww in paris was better but reading ww in rome seemed like watching the show. Many examples: diana irony (referring to serena: she just went downstairs. To her doppleganger: they prefer the real one) Admiration and respect for women bravery even if opponent. Finding strength to protect mother and son. Sentiment for partners: like andros in the show. Killing only when really necessary (mendo, but he is not a human being).Again full admiration !!!! Now some question to the Author (capital letter). Can you give us any clue about next adventure location ? Any indication about timing ? Once more: best ww fanfiction on the web. Winning factors: not porn (there is so much garbage that has nothing to do with the original diana) real spirit of the show, good personal touch / addition ...
ReplyDeleteIt's rewarding to know there is a reader who not only enjoys my stories, but gets it on a deeper level - and is prepared to me tell so (laughing). I aimed to capture a juxtaposition between the spirit of Marston and the later TV shows - it's so nice you even recognised WW's style of one-liners.
ReplyDeleteIn my opinion, the Rome story is easily my best work so far. In retrospect, I was finding my feet in the London story and think the first chapter was a little sleazy and silly. The Paris story was better, stylistically, but I cut an entire chapter because it didn't feature Diana, in any guise, which weakened it - Might even write it still! The Rome story was meant to be something much simpler - as in the first chapter - but I decided (partly because I was ill at the time) to go big; I wanted the adventure cinematic in scale.
Sadly, I see the next story coming as late as October or November. In the meantime, I'm putting up a character profile page. I think I'm going to ask my readers the where and with whom questions on the blog.
Thanks again, for your comments and interest...
I enjoyed the story quite a bit but please leave out US politics.
ReplyDeleteHi, Tom, thanks for the feedback. In response, I've altered the most controversial line. I was hesitant when I wrote it. The line was meant to quickly establish the correspondent, as a character, in a satirical style, but, evidently, goes too far. These stories are meant as entertainment and I have no political agenda. I apologise for any offence caused.
ReplyDeleteNo offense taken. It just didn't seem to fit the story. Just like I wouldn't expect any put down of the liberals in this type of story. And I hope you take WW to someplace like Hong Kong were things could get very interesting for her.
ReplyDelete