CLING!
Steel screamed against steel as Wonder Woman caught the blade with her bracers, sparks showering between them.
The ballroom was a massacre. Once a glamorous political gala, it now reeked of blood and scorched silk. Bodies of dignitaries and guards alike lay strewn across the marble floor, crimson staining their evening wear. The chandeliers still swayed overhead from the chaos that erupted moments ago.
At the center of it all was Evalis—a shadow of grace and slaughter. Her blade moved like a whisper, faster than the eye could follow. Her every strike was honed with surgical precision, her style a brutal symphony of swordsmanship and martial arts. Not a single wasted movement.
But Wonder Woman stood tall, golden lasso at her hip, deflecting each deadly arc of Evalist's blade. Though the assassin's speed was inhuman, Diana's Amazonian reflexes, centuries of combat mastery, and sheer strength made her a worthy match.
"You slaughtered diplomats, civilians," Diana growled, her bracers flaring as she deflected another rapid flurry. "Why?"
Evalist didn't answer. Her eyes glinted with something unreadable—resolve, madness, or perhaps purpose far beyond this night.
Then she spoke, voice low and calm, slicing the tension like her blade:
"They were never innocent."
Before Diana could respond, Evalis moved.
"Ljósbrandr – First Form: Dawnbreaker Slash!"
She vanished in a flicker of light—no blur, no afterimage, just absence. A heartbeat later, she was behind Diana, blade descending with the fury of a sunrise forged into steel.
Diana spun, bringing her bracers up just in time
—CLANG!
The floor beneath them cracked.
The shockwave tore through the room, upending chairs, sending a toppled table flying like a paperweight. Diana slid back, boots digging trenches in the marble. Her jaw tightened.
Evalis pressed forward, relentless. A dance of speed and discipline. Her footwork was surgical, her blade never leaving a path of retreat. High feints turned to low strikes, one-handed counters turned into spinning ripostes. It was art wrapped in blood.
CLANG—CLANG—CLANG!
Each impact echoed like a bell tolling war.
Diana caught a vertical strike, twisted, and slammed her elbow into Evalis's jaw—but Evalis rolled with it, flipping backward and landing with the grace of a falling feather.
"Who taught you this style?" Diana asked, eyes narrowing.
Evalis wiped a smear of blood from her chin. "A dead god," she replied, stepping into another stance. "But I improved it."
The rune on her back surged with power, lines glowing brighter, faster.
"Ljósbrandr – Second Form: Radiant Fang."
Evalis moved again, and the light on her blade turned blinding—like the sun compressed into an edge. The katana cleaved downward.
Diana crossed her bracers—BOOM!
A shockwave ripped through the ballroom like a divine cannon. Pillars cracked. Walls trembled. The remains of the chandelier came crashing down behind them in a thousand shards.
Diana grunted as she skidded backward, her arms smoking from the energy blast.
"This ends now," the Amazon growled, uncoiling the Lasso of Truth with one swift flick.
Evalis tilted her head slightly, watching the golden rope ignite with celestial fire.
"I agree," she whispered.
The two women—goddess and ghost—rushed forward, blades and lasso meeting with thunderous violence.
CRACK!
The golden Lasso of Truth snapped forward, a radiant arc slicing through the smoke and chaos like judgment incarnate.
Evalis twisted just in time, the lasso grazing her shoulder, singeing fabric but not flesh. She darted back, keeping her movements tight, efficient. One misstep would mean restraint… or worse.
Her blade flicked up, intercepting another slash from the lasso but this time, it was a feint.
Diana closed the gap, slamming her boot into Evalis's side, sending her crashing into a collapsed pillar. Dust billowed. For a moment, Evalis was gone from sight.
Diana stood still, focused, listening.
Evalis emerged from the smoke, blood dripping from her lip, eyes locked in calculation. She no longer charged. No longer danced with grace. She circled now, cautious.
"You're faster than I expected," Diana said, circling in tandem, lasso slowly rotating in her hand like a predator's tail.
"You're slower than I hoped," Evalis countered, tone unreadable.
Another moment.
Then Evalis lunged
—blade glowing again with radiant power.
Ljósbrandr – Third Form: Horizon Fang.
A slash so fast, so flat, it seemed to erase the space between them.
Diana caught it between her bracers.
Evalis's eyes widened.
Now.
In that brief moment of contact Diana dropped low, sweeping Evalis's legs with a pivoting kick. The assassin fell backward, and before she could recover:
SNAP—WRAP—SNARE!
The Lasso of Truth coiled around her body in a single, fluid motion—binding her arms, torso, and legs in a golden spiral of divine light. The moment it sealed, the rune on Evalis's back flared, then dimmed—suppressed.
Evalis writhed, eyes narrowing, muscles straining. "Let go," she hissed, shadows of fury and desperation leaking through her mask of composure.
But it was too late.
She was bound.
And the truth… would answer.
Diana pulled the Lasso of truth
She lowered her voice. "Who are you?"
The question should have been simple.
But Evalis's body stiffened.
Her breath caught.
Then came the spasms.
A violent shudder coursed through her frame unnatural, like something within her was fighting against the command of truth itself. Her limbs jerked, back arching, tendons straining as if the answer clawing its way to the surface was too monstrous to speak.
Her eyes widened, and tears—unbidden—slid down her cheeks.
"GGRRHH—!" she growled through clenched teeth, her entire body vibrating with tension, muscles seizing violently. "N-Not… not this—!"
Diana's eyes narrowed, alarm flashing behind her warrior calm. She stepped closer, kneeling slightly. "Hey Breathe. You're safe. Let the truth come."
But Evalis only screamed.
"AAARRRGHHH!"
It tore from her throat, primal and broken—more pain than defiance, more memory than resistance. Blood trickled from her nose. Her eyes glazed, flickering between lucidity and something ancient, something fractured.
"Please!!" she sobbed, words raw. "STOP!! I—I don't want to remember! I don't—" her voice cracked, hoarse and hollow, "—I didn't ask to be made…"
Diana's heart clenched. This was no assassin's confession. This was a soul unraveling.
The Amazon released the tension on the lasso slightly but didn't undo it.
Evalis body finally going limp within the golden coils of the Lasso of Truth.
Her breaths were shallow. Uneven. Her lips parted slightly, murmuring fragments of words no one could understand. Then, silence. Unconsciousness claimed her like a curtain falling after the final act..
Diana caught her before she hit the marble.
The assassin—this enigma named Evalis—felt strangely light in her arms, despite the destruction she had unleashed. For a moment, Diana simply held her. Not in restraint. But in quiet, conflicted stillness.
She gently laid Evalis on the cold floor, then stood.
And turned.
The ballroom what remained of it was bathed in the dying flicker of emergency lights. Smoke curled through shattered windows, the moans of wounded security guards echoing from nearby hallways. The scent of blood was heavy and cloying, crawling up the back of her throat like ash.
Diana walked forward, boots crunching over glass and debris.
The bodies were everywhere.
Some with expressions frozen in terror. Others in disbelief. Blood streaked across once-pristine tablecloths. A wine glass, miraculously unbroken, rolled gently across the floor before tapping against a corpse's shoe.
Senators. Ambassadors. Advisors. Elite diplomats from across the globe.
Slaughtered.
Some had been killed instantly. Others… more brutally. She could see scorch marks on some. Sliced limbs on others. And in the center, a twisted mound of metal: once an ornate buffet table, now warped and fused by intense heat—possibly from the radiant techniques Evalis had used.
Diana's eyes burned.
Not with tears. With fury.
With guilt.
She reached to her ear and pressed her League communicator.
"Wonder Woman to Watchtower."
A second passed. Then came the familiar voice of Martian Manhunter, calm and clear despite the static.
"We read you. Go ahead."
Diana's voice didn't waver, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
"We have a Code Black. Multiple fatalities. Diplomatic massacre at the Vienna Summit. I need containment and cleanup teams. Medical evac immediately."
There was a long pause on the other end, static buzzing before J'onn J'onzz responded.
"Understood. ETA four minutes. Stay alert."
Diana turned back toward Evalis, still bound, still unconscious. The rune on the assassin's back now glowed faintly—dim and flickering, as if suppressed by her state of mind or the divine energy still coursing through the lasso.
Kneeling beside her once more, Diana looked closer. There was something carved beneath the rune—burn scars, barely visible to the untrained eye. Letters. Symbols.
Runic encryption. Layered magic. Branding.
A weapon, not a woman.
Or perhaps both.
Her fingers hovered over the scarred skin—but didn't touch.
"I don't know what they did to you," Diana whispered softly, "but I will find out."
Behind her, the wind outside howled through the shattered windows. The soft wail of sirens echoed closer. Vienna's skyline, normally lit by celebration and diplomacy, was cast in the cold shadows of tragedy.
The Justice League would come. Questions would be asked. Answers would be demanded.
But for now, Diana stayed there—vigilant guardian beside the broken assassin, watching over the dead.
And waiting for dawn.