Wonder Woman in Rome #3

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. 

03 When in New York

It wasn’t difficult to spot Marsha Cross at an indistinguishable backstreet restaurant in Manhattan. Her silver chained necklace bounced merrily against the dark chocolate skin of her copious cleavage. The few diners who were present, naturally, stared across at the lady working her booty in a clinging leather dress, on the way to Christopher Dalton’s table.

The spectacle wasn’t wasted on Dalton, “Hey, baby, I see you haven’t changed.”

“Tut, why change what already works so well, babe?”

The two fellow I.A.D.C agents knew one another from the time they worked together as field operatives, before Marsha was assigned to Steve Trevor, as his assistant, and Christopher rose to be the Head of European Operations. Nevertheless, their meeting was not merely a catch-up between two old friends, who once shared a night of passion, Dalton was investigating the relationship between Diana Prince and Wonder Woman.

“Here’s everything I could find on Miss Snooty and Wonder Woman,” said Marsha, glibly, handing a bulky folder to Dalton. “What I don’t understand is why you’re so interested in some superhero bitch when you have perfection right in front of you?” 

 

“Admittedly, she’s beautiful, I suppose, but I have bigger mommas and a larger booty than that!” she confirmed, pushing up her assets.

“And not to mention more cellulite,” sarcastically replied Dalton, flicking through the material in the folder.

Marsha quenched her teeth in mock disgust, “Man, you’re still cheeky. I shouldn’t give you my star find.”

“Hey, you know you put the ‘s’ in ex,” saved Dalton, sensing something good.

“Now that’s better, babe” Marsha said, handing over a sealed envelope. “Post for you at your old Washington office. He can’t know you’ve been based in Europe for the last two years.”

There was a letter inside that Christopher read:

Dear Mr Dalton

It has been brought to my attention that we have a mutual acquaintance known as Wonder Woman. Although this legendary lady speaks of truth, justice, and compassion, I believe she has a much darker agenda.

I have it on good word, she is currently in Rome assisting one of your fellow agents, a Miss Diana Prince, who is assigned protect the Princess of Belle Terra and her American fiancé from an assassination threat. I earnestly urge you to travel to Rome at your earliest opportunity, as I fear the biggest danger to the royal couple may well be from Wonder Woman, herself.

To explain further, contact me at the address on the top of the page as soon as you arrive in Rome, and we can pull our resources, to uncover Wonder Woman’s real agenda.

Yours sincerely,

Cardinal Mendo

“How the hell did a cardinal know I was investigating Wonder Woman?” Dalton mused. 

 

“Since you’ve already read the contents, Marsha, did you check this guy out?”

“You know me so well, baby” replied Marsha, “And guess what? Nobody has ever heard of him. So whoever he is, this boy does not wear a collar.”

Dalton sprung to his feet and threw a handful of dollars on the table. “Thanks, Marsha,” he said.

“Where are you going, babe?” she asked.

“Where do you think? he replied.

A ball for the royal couple at the Rome Cavalieri Hotel was beginning to fill with the City’s high society. Behind the reception desk, Diana Prince stood watching the guests attend the ball with a keen interest.

 

“Signorina Prince?” asked a dashing man, in a tuxedo, with dark Latin looks. 

He introduced himself with I.D. as Inspector Sergio Nico of the Guardia di Finanza. In Italy, the Guardia di Fianza is a military police responsible for coastal security against terrorism and drug trafficking, among other things. 

 

“Really, my duty, primarily, is to see the Divina Key of Belle Terra gets safely home. I believe it’s to be presented to the happy couple from the people of Rome, tonight?” 

 

“Yes,” Diana acknowledged, “So the key must be worth a considerable amount of money?”

“Non,” Sergio dismissed, “Its only value is as a rusty sentimental relic - unless you believe the legend that goes with it.”

“Which is?” inquired Diana, as they strolled into the bustling reception hall.

The Inspector took Diana’s cape revealing a modest royal blue dress underneath. He passed her a glass of champagne from a near server.

“Spettacolare!” he swooned, “You should have been a princess, by rights.”

“Grazie, gentile signore,” Diana returned with a polite smile. It was easy to warm to Sergio, he was the perfect gentleman; unlike the egotistical petulance that the likes of Christopher Dalton had tried to impress upon her. 

 

“The legend has it, the Divina Key was made by pirates who stole treasures beyond their wildest dreams from Belle Terra, and stashed them away somewhere in ancient Rome, but nobody ever discovered where,” explained Nico.

“I don’t personally believe the story,” he admitted.

The Mayor of Rome made the presentation of the Divina Key to Princess Rosetta and Louis Cesario. Rosetta made a short speech about bringing the relic back to her people. The lady-in-waiting, butch Serena Rocca, took the key away with two protection officers, one of whom Diana thought she recognised from Civitavecchia. It was tempting for Diana to follow them, but not before she introduced Sergio to the royal couple.

“Your Highness,” Diana gestured, “This is Inspector Sergio Nico of the Guardia di Fianza.”

“Very good,” responded the princess, seductively, smiling at the handsome military man. 

 

Cesario turned his attention to Diana, “Well, I hope the Inspector makes a better job of it than the I.A.D.C., so far. We came close to being shot dead at the Vatican, earlier. If it weren’t for this mysterious masked woman, we’d probably be dead.”

The princess giggled, childishly, “She’s a Belle Terra legend come to life, known as the Lost Siren.”

“Well, when Italian authorities have finished interrogating the suspect, I hope we shall find out who is threatening you,” Diana responded, “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m sure Inspector Nico has a lot to advise you on.” 

 

Diana found a relatively secluded spot in the hall by some rows of flowers. She pulled out her cell phone. 

 

“Hello, Steve, this is a long shot, but can you check the financial solvency of Louis Cesario – and everything you can about the Divina Key of Belle Terra.”

“Sure, Diana,” said Trevor, “But it might be tricky. Cesario made his fortune trading and spreads his assets widely.”

“If you’d like to know about the Divina Key, I’ll tell you what I have learned on the subject for nothing more than your delightful company,” offered an English voice.

Diana turned to see the robes of an imposing man in a black cardinal’s outfit; a man who she last saw as Wonder Woman in Vatican City.

“Got to go, Steve. Cardinal?” Diana asked with an inquisitive smile.

“Of course, we have never met. My name is Cardinal Mendo and you are - according to the voice I overheard on the phone - Diana.”

“Prince, Diana Prince.” 

 

They shook hands and Diana felt the same uncomfortably deformed bones and bad circulation as she did, previously, in the Vatican’s gardens.

“The locals will tell you the tale of the key being a pirates’ treasure, but I have heard an all the more sinister twist to the fable,” informed Mendo.

“They called her the Lost Siren - a Roman outcast who would raid Belle Terra for its priceless jewels and then disappear back into the blue waters where she came from. The law eventually caught up with her, and when they found the vault of jewels in the ancient City, they very uncharitably locked her in there, with her stolen fineries and a combustible lantern. I’m afraid she was burnt alive. People were so moralising in those days, weren't they?”

“And did you learn where the vault was?” Diana asked, curiously.

“Yes, yes,” Mendo replied, gently, turning away, “Rumour has it, underneath the Colosseum.”

Cardinal Mendo was an enigmatic man for sure, but Diana didn’t have time to work out he’s game just yet. She needed to know the Divina Key was in the safe in the royal quarters of the hotel.

When she approached the penthouse, the door was ajar and a man’s hand lay in the entrance. Diana knelt down to see an unconscious protection officer. She carefully made her way into the main room. Another protection officer was sprawled out next to the sofa. This was the officer who had fell victim to the Lost Siren back in Civitavecchia Marina. The safe on the wall was open and the Divina Key had been placed inside. Diana picked it up.

“Miss Prince!” shouted somebody on the open balcony.

Diana swung around to see the Lost Siren on the railings. However, this time she wasn’t wearing her mask; Serena Rocca had no need to; it was too late, the throwing star spun horizontally into Diana’s neck. Blood trickled down her, but that was nothing compared to the chloroform tipped ends of the star, which saturated her bloodstream.

The fuzzy disturbance began to weaken Diana at a pace. She blurrily saw Rocca approach and manhandle her onto the sofa. She didn’t resist, she knew she couldn’t do any more at this time, except listen to her triumphant enemy. 

 

“You’ve fallen for our plan, perfectly,” Serena boasted, “You’ll pay for your meddling with the Fourth Reich in Paris. When you wake up the guards will testify you tried to steal the Divina Key, but the Lost Siren stopped you and took the Key for herself.”

For Part 4 Click Here