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The Games that Gods Play	By : Ristul Category: DC Verse Comics > Wonder Woman Views: 16896 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Wonder Woman,nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
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I know many soldiers who often went into battle thinking to die for their loved ones. I take a different tack. I can’t love those I care about if I’m dead, right?
lang=EN-US -Gawain Sharpe
Wonder Woman frowned. She had felt something a moment ago, as she watched Zatanna concoct some complicated spell components inside the chamber they had reserved for bringing Donna back. It was as if her connection with Donna was being rekindled, and the first thing she felt was a warm pleasure that made her blush when she realized what it was exactly.
“Diana, is anything wrong?” Zatanna asked her.
The Amazon Princess shook her head. “No. It’s just that… I can feel Donna again!”
Zatanna’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Of course! You’re practically twins! I should have thought of it before!” That sparked a flurry of additional activity as Zatanna practically flew from bench to bench picking up more spell components. “I think I can use that connection to help pull Donna back!”
Donna’s body laid on a soft bed nearby, watched over by wary Amazon guards. Dark Angel was similarly placed under heavy guard, in a special cell that neutralized her sorceries and any possible troublemaking on her part. Diana had enough of Dark Angel messing up her family’s life.
Zatanna finally managed to get the spell ready, stepping into an inscribed circle with various symbols and strange letters on the ground. “Okay, Diana! I’m going to try reaching Donna using three elements: Angle Man’s triangle, the bounty hunter, and your own connection to Donna’s soul. If all three are in close proximity, it’ll be a lot easier, but if they’re not, then I’ve only your connection to use to drag her back.”
She gestured for Wonder Woman to step within a smaller circle, linked to her own circle by more intricate drawings and symbols. “Your connection to Donna might be strengthened, so be careful of any sensations you might feel.” Donna’s bed was within a third circle, also linked to the other two.
Wonder Woman nodded her understanding. Then Zatanna started chanting, her words spoken backwards.

“Cover that side of the bloody wall!” Gawain yelled at his detachment of warriors as he struggled with his jammed pistol. The weapon just had to fail at this critical juncture.
The battle had started without ceremony. The demons wanted to break through the walls, and they were to stop them. Simple enough, except there were a lot more demons than defenders.
The situation was complicated by the demons’ strategy. They had flung their main force at the front wall, but a flanking unit had attacked the northern wall. Gawain could understand the rationale behind that move, which he mentally applauded, and would also have done if he was the attacker with numbers on his side. The action forced defenders to divert their own strength away from the frontal assault, and if it did break through, it would place them into a pincer. As for why the did not try attacking all the walls, Gawain only needed a well known military aphorism to explain that. Defeat in detail.
So he had volunteered with only twenty men to deflect the attack on the northern flank, all that Donna could spare from the desperate defense on her side. He had several pistols, which were barely operable, and falling to pieces after a minor sandstorm whipped through the area, the fine sand slipping into the moving parts and making them useless.
The demons were pouring over the low walls now, while his force of terrified warriors fired back with crossbows as quickly as they could into their midst. He managed to get off another shot in time to drop a ranking demon, then tossed the out-of-ammunition pistol at another, knocking it on the head and annoying it slightly. That was it; he had no more firearms of any kind left.
He drew his own sword, hoping Donna was having better luck than he was.

Donna felt a pang of worry for Gawain, but she pushed that distracting thought aside. She continued to fire arrows down at the horde of demons trying to beat down the gates. For the first time in the campaign, she could see the ranks of the demons thinning significantly, and that gave her hope. Perhaps we can even beat them back!
Then the door at the gates shattered into hundreds of wooden splinters.
“Down to the ground!” Donna shouted, leaping down the stairs and engaging the first few demons running through the gate. She had largely recovered from her wounds of the first day, and it was yet another thing she had thanked Gawain for when they awoke in each other’s arms at the start of the day.
She wielded her sword and shield with cool efficiency, cutting down any demon which approached near her. Their various blood colors washed over the sands around her feet, testament to her fighting prowess. She was untouchable, invincible.
More demons avoided her now as they ran through the gates, preferring to engage her warriors, who fought back with the courage of desperate men with nowhere left to run.
Donna shifted herself forward, placing herself right at the gates. She was Horatio at the bridge, the unmovable object that would not budge. But still they kept on coming, many of them slipping past her rapid swipes to fight her overwhelmed warriors behind her.
Then she saw the demonlord ride up on his massive ghostlike steed, wielding a long lance. Around him were what she assumed were his bodyguards, all bearing down at her as a single, solid mass, with their commander in the middle with that long, deadly lance.
Donna braced herself behind her shield, gathering up all her power for the battle ahead.

Wonder Woman could feel Zatanna’s magic now, and her link with Donna was growing stronger. The sensations were of adrenaline and danger, and Diana knew with every bone in her body that Donna’s soul was in the midst of battle.
She tried to convey her own thoughts to Donna, but something barred the way, preventing her from lending her sister her support.
Zatanna was chanting in her unique way while in a seated position in the middle of her circle, and Diana dared not break her concentration. She could only watch and pray to the gods that Donna would return to them healthy and well.

Gawain screamed angrily as he punched his blade through one of the last few demons, then pulled out the sword in time to avoid another blow directed at him. He dropped to the ground and rolled away in time to avoid a downward slash that would have sliced him into half.
He was back on his feet after rolling for several meters, and saw the demon chasing him with its axe raised up high. He screamed, and instead of backing away again, he charged forward, both hands on the hilt of his sword as he impaled the demon on the blade. It fell down, but not before it took a substantial piece of him with a final swing of its axe, cutting away a hefty chunk of his left calf. Blood burst from the wound in a shower of crimson gore.
“Arggghhhh!” He screamed in pain, almost falling down, but managed to grab a nearby wall for support. He looked around to see the last of his warriors fall under a massively built demon’s stomping feet. The human warrior screamed as his skull was flattened by the centaur-like demon’s piston feet.
Gawain gulped. The demon was big. And it carried a set of javelins on its back, plus a wicked looking sword in its left hand. Normally it would be peppered with arrows to slow it down, but in this fight it had survived long enough and unscathed. Much like a mounted horseman, its longer reach and superior height were difficult advantages to overcome in a melee. And he couldn’t move at all, with the pain in his leg, his mobility almost gone.
On the positive side, they had somehow managed to kill all the demons on the flank attack, no mean feat in itself. Gawain didn’t know how exactly they had done it, the entire battle a blur in his mind, but he forced himself to concentrate on getting out of his present predicament. He would mourn later.
The demon was pretty far away, on the opposite side of the courtyard, about 300 meters away, the ground between them covered with dead bodies. It grinned at his condition, and started galloping for him, its right arm reaching behind itself for a javelin.
Gawain looked around frantically, and saw a bow and quiver at his feet. No choice at all. Go with the flow, Sharpe, go with the flow.
He picked up the bow and an arrow, and shot off the arrow almost immediately. The arrow missed by a mile. The demon continued to charge at him, and he thought he saw its smile grow wider.
lang=EN-US Calm down, calm down. lang=EN-US He closed his eyes for a few precious seconds, trying to recall past lessons.
lang=EN-US Their instructor for this lesson was an old, no, ancient black man. The cadets of Dog Company took their practice bows off the racks, grumbling all the while about wasting more precious course time on archaic weaponry. Gawain noticed there were bows with advanced technology, pulleys to adjust for power, sighting scopes for accuracy. Almost everybody took those, leaving the medieval style bows for the few archaic nuts/aficionados. They had practiced with those advanced bows for the past few lessons, and knew how to use them adequately, if not expertly. This lesson was to make them even better.
lang=EN-US They gathered in front of the archery range, standing at ease as the old man addressed them. The first words he spoke were of sheer disdain, and he harangued them at length on their lack of respect for tradition before finally going into the advanced techniques of archery, which was a load of mystical mumbo-jumbo. Gawain found himself nodding in half sleep. What a load of bullshit, he thought.
lang=EN-US The old man was only carrying a rather quaint and antiquated bamboo longbow. More than a few jokers muttered softly about their doubts on the old man’s ability to even shoot at all.
lang=EN-US “Now you!” The old man pointed at Gawain. “You try to shoot!” He pointed at a target post. “See if you can feel the shot through all that lifeless hardware,” sneered the man.
lang=EN-US Gawain shrugged, and stepped up. He adjusted the bow’s tension settings, selected his arrow, then sighted in using the in-built scope. He released the shot, the arrow buzzing through the air. It slammed into the target, just wide of the bull’s eye, and sank in almost a full five centimeters.
lang=EN-US He grinned to himself, hearing a smatter of applause from his comrades. Not a bad shot at all. He turned to see the old man shaking his head sadly.
lang=EN-US “Pathetic.” The old man shot his spirits down with that single word, delivered with all the scorn of a superior officer. He waved a hand at the target post, “See? This is what comes of using all that fancy technology.”
lang=EN-US “Now observe.” The old man shoved Gawain away brusquely, standing in the same position Gawain did. He fitted an arrow to his string, then suddenly became very still for all of two seconds.
lang=EN-US With a single graceful but rapid motion, he drew the bow, raised up the bow, and released the arrow. He held the release position in perfect stillness, the string humming slightly, until the arrow reached the target.
lang=EN-US The cadets stared on in shock, their mouths agape in sheer disbelief.
lang=EN-US The arrow had done a Robin Hood on Gawain’s prior shot, shattering the shaft and passing into the backboard. Even more then that, it had sunk almost the whole way into the target with only the fletching still visible.
lang=EN-US The old man turned to them, and said, “The true power of the shot is not a function of the load of your bow. Think on that.”
Gawain wrenched himself back from memory lane, back to the vicious heat on his skin, the blood on his face, the pounding feet of the approaching demon.
lang=EN-US Be one with the target. The target is only a feet away. Gawain had already selected another arrow, and fitted it to the string. He repeated the phrases like a mantra, until all he could see was the demon, and then shrinking down to the area of his neck, then finally to the single pinpoint spot he wanted to hit, as though it really was right in front of him. His heartbeat sounded very loud in his ears. He felt his inner energy surge up, and that was when he knew the moment was right.
Gawain released the shot. The demon threw the javelin simultaneously with his release.
The arrow streaked through the air, punching all the way through the demon’s thick throat, tearing apart the vital passage. The demon collapsed to the ground, its legs weakly flailing in the sand before fading away into stillness.
Gawain gasped in tremendous agony, pinned to the wall behind him by the javelin, which had pierced him in his left shoulder, going through all the way to embed its tip in the wall.
He almost fainted with the blood loss and the terrible pain, but he focused on the faded sounds of combat in the distance, trying to stay awake. His only thoughts were of Donna, and how he was going to reach her. He shook his head several times, trying to rid the fogginess.
The soldier groped around with his unhurt right foot for a sword on the ground, and used it to hook up an axe into his right hand. Gritting his teeth in preparation for the pain, he cut away part of the javelin’s shaft, the portion in front of him. Then he moved his body through the remaining portion out and away from the javelin’s tip and the wall to free himself in a spray of blood from the wound.
Gawain fell to the ground on his chest, his face pale and chalky. He pushed himself up slowly with his right arm, then to a sitting position. He looked at his left side, and everything he saw was covered or soaked in blood. Ignoring the further stabs of pain, he tore away the sleeves on his left arm, and used the cloth to fashion a makeshift bandage for the hole in his left shoulder.
Then he took up a sword, and forced himself to his feet. He staggered towards the front gates in a torturous half crawl, half walk. Nothing else mattered now except reaching Donna. Hold on, Donna, hold on!

Donna spun around, stabbing another demon before it could attack her from behind. She took the opportunity to observe how the rest of her warriors were doing, and the scene sickened her to her stomach.
Only five warriors remained of the force she had led from Vassa, and they were screaming for her to help as they were being cut into pieces by the few remaining demons.
Donna tried to go to their aid, but she was hard pressed by the elite demons around her. She could barely fend off their attacks, let alone leave her back open for an attack.
She leaped into the air, kicking out with one long leg against the flat of a swinging sword of a demon. The move unbalanced it long enough for her to get in a strike against his neck. More ichor sprayed out, and the six remaining demons flinched away long enough for her to land and leap again over their heads to reach her beleaguered warriors.
The demons butchering her people were barely prepared for her onslaught. She waded through their ranks in a few seconds, only to see the last of her warriors, a tall woman, fall to the ground dead from a bleeding throat.
“NOOOOO!!!” Donna screamed as she moved to hold the dying woman in her arms, dropping her sword to try to staunch the flow of blood from the neck. But the woman was already clearly dead.
“This ends, and it ends now!” Donna stood up with her sword, her eyes full of fury and sorrow. There were only four demons left, plus their commander. She knew that no matter what, she had won the battle for all intents and purposes. The mighty demonic army had broken itself on her stout defense of Forssul, and Vassa would be able to mobilize a much stronger army to hold against any future attacks. But why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like a loss?
She was a storm of violence as she assailed the remaining demons, unheeding of her own wounds now as she tore through the guard element. The commander, who had his initial charge with his lance foiled when one of her warriors sacrificed himself, pushing her out of the way and breaking the lance, stood to one side, observing her battle.
Donna knew what he was doing. He was waiting for his goons to soften her up, so that he could kill her himself. She finished off the final guard, then crouched low behind her battered shield, trying to regain her strength for her greatest enemy.
The demonlord started walking towards her, “Impressive, Lady Troy, but I’m afraid your winning streak ends here and now.” He brandished his weapons, his clawed hands clutching a massive axe and sword in either hand.
“Do your worst, foul beast.” Donna steeled herself.
Then he was upon her with such terrifying speed, faster than any of the previous demons she had faced. Donna was barely able to block the sword with her shield when his axe came swinging in. She countered with her longsword, but she was just about to be decapitated.
The demonlord worked himself into a steady rhythm, his weapons pounding on her in steady, fast and furious blows. He stood taller than her, and his reach was allowing him to keep his distance from her own weapons.
Donna tried to watch for an opening to get in close, but there simply wasn’t one. He was content to batter down at her until she tired of defense, or when the shield finally gave way. And the shield did give way, bending in half at a blow from his axe, which implanted itself firmly in the wrecked metal shield. He followed through easily, tearing the shield away from her and swinging down with his sword.
Donna managed to parry his sword, but that left her open for his axe, which had flung the shield away, and was swiping around horizontally in a slash that would have disemboweled her.
A figure appeared at the same instant, parrying the blow by cutting upwards.
“Gawain!” She exclaimed. Donna was shocked when she saw Gawain, and the shock grew along with worry when she saw his condition. He was bleeding very badly, and it was a miracle he could still fight.
“It’s okay, Donna.” Then Gawain grated out through clenched teeth to the demon, “You’ve lost. Your army has been destroyed at the hands of less than 300 warriors. Vassa could mobilize a far greater army to oppose you.”
“Not really, Kessanalt.” The demon smiled through his fangs. “What is important is that we kill Donna Troy, and now, you, Gawain Sharpe.”
“I’m flattered.” Donna said. “But really, it’s now the two of us against you. It seems the tables have turned.”
“Hahaha!” The demon laughed, “He is barely standing on his feet, and you are wounded and tired as well, while I am fresh, and uninjured! No, now you will both die.” Then he sprang into action, both his weapons out in wide, dangerous arcs towards Gawain.
Donna knew that would be his next move, predictable as it was. Gawain was almost out of it, despite his bravado. He was pale, as if he was already a walking corpse kept alive by sheer willpower. It was only logical that the demon would try to take him out first, reduce the odds against him.
She stepped in, her sword clashing against his axe with a shower of sparks. Then the demon thrust forward with his sword towards Gawain as she watched on in helpless despair. Gawain tried to block it with his own sword, but it shattered, and yet the demon came on.
Gawain smiled as he changed his mind, and moved forward into the demon’s sword, letting it run him through with a sickening wet crunch, past his ribs and then appearing out of his back with a further burst of blood, the tip of the sword stained red with his blood.

Wonder Woman gasped, almost overcome with the emotions she was feeling from Donna’s soul. Fear, horror, and above all, a sense of loss for a loved one. Tears came to her blue eyes, flowing down her cheeks as she could sense Donna’s anguish. Something terrible was happening, but she felt so impotent.
Zatanna’s chanting grew louder, more insistent, and the magic gathered in the air seemed like a living entity of its own as it writhed through the chamber. The guards stared on stoically, but Diana could see the worry in their eyes.
Donna’s body began to convulse slightly.

“Gawain!” Donna screamed in horror as she swung her sword with desperate strength, knocking the axe away from the demon’s hands. The demon lashed out with one huge claw, slapping away her follow up attack and sending her to the ground.
Everything seemed wrapped in fog, and he could not feel any pain anymore. Gawain didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. He held onto the demon’s sword with his left hand, somehow summoning up the strength to keep it inside his body, leaving the demon open for an attack. But he had to strike back.
His right hand reached down for a moment, and brushed across the triangle. He grabbed it up, and punched it with savage force with the incredibly sharp tip towards the demon’s chest.
“Arrrghh!” The demon screamed with his stab, and Gawain grinned maniacally, pushing the triangle deeper in with the laat of his strength.
Through his mouth, blood pouring like a river from it, Gawain gasped out thickly, “If I’m going down, you’re going down with me, buddy. See you in Hell.”
The demon screamed again, this time with obvious fear on its face. It was so transfixed on Gawain’s smiling visage it never saw Donna come in from one side with her sword, beheading it with a single swift stroke.
He felt very weak now, and he finally released his grip on the sword in his body. He fell backwards on the ground, with the sword still in his chest. He felt his vision dimming. Even Donna’s screams of anguish as she held him in her arms seemed as though they were coming away from a far distance.
He was almost to slip into oblivion when he heard a voice in his head, somehow focusing his waning awareness.
lang=EN-US Gawain Sharpe, is that you?
lang=EN-US Yeah, who’s asking? I think I’m dying now. Shoo! Go away!
lang=EN-US No, you can’t die! At least not until you tell me if you have seen a tall Amazon with long black hair and fair skin. Her eyes are…
lang=EN-US Donna Troy, right? She’s right beside me. What’s left of me anyway. Heh.
lang=EN-US Good! Then is the triangle of Angle Man with you?
lang=EN-US I think it’s in my right hand. Hard to tell. Might be stuck in the demon I just helped to kill. Why?
lang=EN-US Ask Donna to hold the triangle. Please, you have to do it!
lang=EN-US Okay, okay!
The voice faded away, and Gawain tried to fight his way back, through the fog, through the pain. He opened his eyes to see the blood-stained cheeks of Donna, her tears falling on his face like rain.
“Hold… this…” He raised the triangle, to her, and not knowing what he meant, she reached out for the triangle. Her hand grasped one side of the triangle firmly, while he held another.
Then everything about him was blinding light. He had one last thought. Great, the stupid triangle decides to work just when I’m dead.

Donna’s convulsions increased in their violence and frequency, and Diana stared on in horror as she opened her mouth to scream. There was a brilliant glare from Donna’s body, then slowly fading away to reveal a shaking Donna on her bed…
Along with the bloody corpse of a man on the floor. Diana gasped as she could pick up a weak heartbeat. No, he’s alive!
“Great Hera!” The guards exclaimed at seeing a man appear in the chamber.
“No!” Zatanna shouted, running out of her circle to impose herself between the guards and the man on the floor. “That’s Gawain Sharpe! He helped to bring Donna back! Don’t hurt him!”
Wonder Woman took that to be a signal for her to leave her own circle. She leaned down beside the man, taking a quick note of his grievous injuries. She spoke to the guards with all the authority of her station. “Take him to our healing chambers, and have our most skilled physicians attend to his wounds.” To place him under guard need not be said; it was a given.
Zatanna accompanied them with a nod of Diana’s head, as insurance that they would not do anything untoward to the nearly dead man. Zatanna said at the entrance of the exit from the chamber, “It was a success. Donna’s back, and she would be waking up any time now. Be there for her.” Then she left.
“What… happened…” Diana turned round to see Donna’s eyes flutter open. Donna sat up slowly, one hand clutching her head. “Where am I? All around me was sand, and blood, and…” She finally saw Diana, and she stared at her for long moments before she said, “Diana?”
Diana rushed forward to hold her sister in a tight embrace. Tears flowed down their cheeks, as they wept tears of joy at their reunion and Donna’s return from the dead.
Donna finally pushed her away gently, wiping away her tears with the palm of one hand, “Diana, what’s happened? All I could remember was holding Gawain’s triangle, and then…” A look of horror came over her. “Where’s Gawain? Where is he?” She asked frantically.
Troia tried to get off the bed, but Wonder Woman held her down firmly. “He will be fine. When your soul re-entered your body, he was somehow brought back as well. He is on the brink of death, but hopefully the purple ray can heal him.”
The Amazon Princess did not miss the tone in Donna’s voice that went beyond that of a warrior’s concern for a comrade. It was the distress of a woman for the man she loved.
“Donna, stay,” said Diana, “Regain your strength first. You still need to rest. We’ll bring you to Mister Sharpe when you are ready to.”
Donna nodded, somewhat tiredly, and Diana pushed her back slowly to the bed, and drew up the covers over her. “Sleep, my dear sister. Do not worry, do not fear. You are back amongst us on Themyscira, and all shall be well.”
Troia closed her eyes, and drifted off into sleep. Wonder Woman watched her sister tenderly for a few moments before leaving the chamber.
The other Amazons had stripped the man of his belongings, a stack of blood-soaked items on a small stone table. Diana frowned as she saw the man still clutching a triangle in his right hand in a death grip even as the healers worked on him in their advanced surgery room.
“Diana, we were unable to remove that metal triangle,” Mala commented. “His hand seemed intent on holding onto it at all costs.”
“Anything else?”
Mala shook her head, “Not much.” Her grim face faltered a bit, “Diana… The wounds he had sustained… are likely to be even beyond the ability of the purple ray and our healers to mend. It is a miracle he is still breathing. And he will not live for long.”
“Then our healers must try their best,” declared Wonder Woman. “He has saved Donna from Dark Angel, and we must reward such courage with our best efforts on his behalf. Anything less would be unbecoming of our ways.”
Mala nodded, “I understand, my Princess.”
“Was there any kin stated in his belongings?” Diana asked after a few more moments of watching Gawain Sharpe struggle for his life.
“Only this.” Mala held out a small white card, partly stained with blood and ichor. Diana felt a sense of déjà vu.
lang=EN-US Giant’s Café. Jake Kabrinski.

Jake yawned tiredly. He was about to close up shop for the day. Business was relatively okay for the past week after the wild attacks, which the media were now calling the Night of Fire after the many bombings and intense combat that occurred.
He was about to walk to the café door to change the ‘open for business’ sign to ‘closed’ when his phone rang. He did not know why, but he felt a slight unease. The last time he had the same feeling, it had been when Wonder Woman had walked into the café and asked if he had known Tom.
Ignoring the heavy piece of lead in his guts, Jake picked up the phone.
“Mister Kabrinski?” He narrowed his eyes. Yup, it was Wonder Woman all right. What could it be this time? He sure as hell hoped she wouldn’t ask him about Tom Serra/Phillip Delacroix. He still didn’t quite understand why the other man had been so insistent that nobody know him as Tom Serra.
“Yes, this is Jake.” He answered cautiously.
“Mister Kabrinski, do you know a Gawain Sharpe?”
“Yes, I know him. Gawain’s a friend and good drinking buddy.” He tried to keep his voice calm, “Has something happened to him?”
There was a pause, then Wonder Woman sighed, “I think you had better come to the Themysciran embassy, Mister Kabrinski.”

Vanessa ran to the door of the embassy when the doorbell rang. There weren’t supposed to be any visitors at this late hour, but the recovering Rachel Keist, back at her post as staff at the embassy, had told her they were expecting a Jake Kabrinski, for transit to Themyscira.
Diana had spent the last few days shuttling between Themyscira and New York via the portal, and the worry on her face for Donna Troy had been clear. Vanessa and Cassie had tried their best to stick by Diana’s side, let her know that she had their support in whatever she did, and she had in turn kept them updated on Donna’s condition.
This course of action was so much better than in the past, when she had wallowed in self pity and self hatred, which eventually allowed Circe and Sebastian Ballesteros to take advantage of her growing frustration at her own situation.
She would be returning on Boston soon with her mother after the vacation period, but at least Vanessa was sure she had gained in valuable experience on this New York trip. There had been the museum opening, and the Night of Fire, and she had taken part in both events. She might never become a full superheroine, but she was glad she had been able to help out, however slightly. It brought a sense of fulfillment that she never thought she would have after the first few days of despair when the weight of her actions as the Silver Swan had finally dawned on her released mind.
Vanessa opened the door, seemingly oblivious to the figure standing outside, lost in her own thoughts. It was only when the lights from the outside seemed blocked by something huge that her brain registered what was standing in front of her.
An eight foot tall giant stood outside the embassy.
“Eeeek!” Vanessa thought she was used to tall people by now, especially with Ferdinand the minotaur, but the guy standing outside was even slightly taller as if that was possible.
The man coughed lightly into a hand, and leaned down to her, “Excuse me, miss, but I’m Jake Kabrinski. I was told to be expected.”
His gentle tone calmed her down considerably, and Vanessa showed him inside nervously. He wasn’t just big. He moved with a quiet grace and agility that she didn’t think people of his size were capable of. There was also a certain aura of command, of presence that he showed in flashes, but mostly under a pool of calm watchfulness. Vanessa got the distinct impression that he wasn’t what he seemed to be, a civilian who just happened to be eight feet tall.
They were met by Peter Garibaldi and her own mother in the meeting hall. The two adults stared at him in amazement for a while before hurriedly introducing themselves, along with an apology.
“Don’t worry, I get that a lot.” Jake said amiably. “Now, I was told that I could get to Gawain from here. And I don’t see any airplane or helicopter…”
“It’s a portal,” Vanessa told him, pressing a button to open the portal, a glowing gateway through which Paradise Island could be seen. “But before you go through it, we’ll have to check your belongings first.”
“No problem.” He shrugged off the heavy coat he was wearing to Peter for examination, while Vanessa used a metal detector on him. He was so tall she had to use a chair, wishing for the first time that evening that Cassie was around instead of going off on a Teen Titans mission. Her flight ability would sure be handy here!
“He’s clean.” Peter said, handing Jake back his coat. “And oh, Mister Kabrinski, one more thing.”
“Yes?” Jake turned back to Peter.
“Don’t make the Amazons angry. Be very, very polite at all times.”
“Understood.” Vanessa thought she saw a wry smile on Jake’s face before he walked through the portal.

Artemis found herself speechless for one of the few times in her life when the giant stepped through the portal, wearing a black coat. He was immense, and had a head of brown hair, and eyes like chips of black ice.
He started a bit in shock as he saw her, and Artemis was suddenly sure he was the same giant she had seen on the Night of Fire, fighting off the terrorists. And she found herself very glad she now had a name to go with her mental image of him.
“Welcome to Themyscira, Jake Kabrinski,” said Artemis in a far more pleasant tone than she had ever, ever used on a male. She tried to ignore the reactions of surprise from the other Amazons around her to her current mood. “I am Artemis, Councilor of Themyscira. On behalf of Chancellor Phillipus and Princess Diana, I extend to you the courtesies of our island paradise.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Artemis,” he replied warmly, bowing politely. “I’d like to see my friend now, if that is possible.”
“Very well. Come this way.” The Amazons all looked warily at the huge male, the spears in their hands shaking slightly with unease, and Artemis could understand why. Jake looked as if he could crush even Heracles in a fight. Artemis led the way to the healing halls, and to the ward where his friend was placed after his surgery.
Gawain Sharpe laid motionless on a bed, while a worried Donna Troy held his left hand. Diana had one hand reassuringly on Donna’s shoulder, lending her sister strength and support. They turned to greet the newcomers as Artemis escorted Jake into the room.
“Ambassador,” Jake bowed politely to Wonder Woman, and then to Donna, “Lady. I am Jake Kabrinski, Gawain’s friend. How is he?”
Donna replied with a sigh, “Still the same, in critical condition. The healers say that if he doesn’t wake up soon, he’ll never wake up.” Artemis stiffened a bit at the grief in Donna’s voice. She really has fallen for this man hard. What’s so special about the guy anyway?
Jake waved away Donna’s concerns with one big hand. “This idiot always needed a kick in the pants to wake him up. Let me do it.”
Then he sent one massive boot into the side of Gawain’s bed, almost toppling the entire thing before it rocked back onto the floor. Donna looked as though she was about to punch him out of the room when Artemis laid a hand on her arm, and said, “Let us watch.”
Jake literally bellowed, “Time to wake up, you loser! Did you think it’s time to snooze? The war is not over yet. Your job is not over yet. There are many things left for you to do, and you’re lollygagging here like a baby!”
When there was no reaction, Jake bent over Gawain so closely that their noses were almost touching, and sneered. “If you want to die, go ahead. But remember, your money is in our joint account, and that means I get it all in case you go to hell early.” He smiled evilly. “So please die already. I always wanted to expand the café.” Then he straightened himself, and was about to walk away. Artemis stared at him, wondering if she had misjudged him.
Then there was a faint sound from the bed. “Fuck you… Jake.”
They turned in surprise to see Gawain Sharpe with his eyes barely open, and more importantly, his left hand was rolled up into a fist with the middle finger sticking out. But he was awake, and doubtless on the way to recovery. Donna rushed to his side, her eyes gleaming with joy.
Jake smirked and saluted Gawain, “Not shabby at all, Sharpe. See you around.” Then the giant walked out of the room, grinning widely. Not knowing what else to do, Artemis chased after him. If nothing else, she was sure he had some great stories to tell.

“…That was how we brought you back.” Wonder Woman said to her sister as they washed themselves in the hot waters of Themyscira’s communal baths. “What about you? What did you do in that other place?” Diana suppressed a smirk as she saw the other Amazons wash themselves. There were many males in the world willing to sacrifice their lives for just a glimpse of the place while it was occupied by dozens of beautiful and naked women.
Donna dove into the water for a while, before breaking up through the surface. She flung her hair back with joy, “I love having all this water around. It was so dry in that dimension.” She turned to Diana, “To answer your question, it was a dimension of demons. But there were also people there, trying to survive.”
“And you helped them.” Diana was proud of Donna, and she wasn’t going to hold back on her pride in her sister.
“They were always ready. They only needed to learn how to fight back effectively. So I taught them that. But it was almost not enough…” Diana saw Donna grew sad, as though she was blaming herself for not being good enough. That simply wasn’t true. Diana had no doubt Donna was an Amazon, worthy enough to be the champion of Themyscira herself.
Diana held Donna’s hand gently, “Donna, I know that you will always try your best. You did not let Dark Angel’s spell overcome you then, and you certainly have set yourself up for a happy ending this time…”
Donna shook her head. “I don’t know. Gawain is a good man, but is he the right one? Or was I simply desperate?” She sighed, “I’ve made so many mistakes. Terry, Kyle, Roy. I’m afraid of making another.”
Diana smiled, “But you will never know unless you try.” A wicked gleam came over her eyes, “Besides, if he treats you badly, you can just tell me, and the two of us will go beat him up. I can tie him up with my lasso, and you can use his deepest, darkest secrets against him.”
“Diana!” Donna exclaimed, though the wide smile on her face showed that she was taking it in good humor. “And to think you’re our ambassador of peace!”
The two women laughed.

It was one week later, and a beautiful day was giving way to a starry night. In one of Themyscira’s many practice arenas, Gawain Sharpe stared at the triangle in his right hand. How do I even start to use this?
His body hurt, he was limping a bit, his left shoulder felt sore from having a javelin go through it. But all that discomfort told him he was alive. He had healed quite a bit faster than normal to the surprise of the Amazons, which Gawain had attributed to being blessed with high metabolism and a strong immune system. In truth, it was the healing technique he was trying out on himself. The mind wishes to heal the body as much as the body wishes to heal itself.
He scowled. The stuff in the crazy Book of Paths really worked. Not that they hadn’t before, but for the first time since he had laid eyes on the copy of the book lying in one corner of the barracks when he was a cadet and decided to read it and somewhat use its teachings, he began to realize there was something else going on.
lang=EN-US Kessanalt.lang=EN-US He thought to himself. What did it mean? And the demonlord was clearly worried. Why? Tom read the book too, and for all I know he probably applied the stuff in there better than I did. I know about a quarter of the cadets in our batch read it too. But who wrote the book in the first place? Why did command place all those copies of the book around?
He shook his head slightly. The workings of High Command had always been a mystery to him. Probably only Jake, with his higher intelligence clearance, knew anything about the final grand design. And when Gawain had asked him about it, Jake had simply said he knew nothing of the sort.
Jake had visited him about twice in the past week, dropping in to see how he was doing, along with comments on how he had struck the jackpot by meeting Donna. For his part, Gawain held his tongue. Jake spent more time with Artemis than he did with Gawain. Smooth, Jake, real smooth. Gawain grinned.
He looked down at the triangle in his hands again. Angle Man had once used it to incredible effect, using it to teleport all over the world, to confound his enemies. Apparently, from what Zatanna had told him, the triangle belonged to him now.
And he had not the slightest inkling of how to use it.
Gawain took an experimental swipe with the triangle. It could work as a weapon, like a short sword, provided it was longer, like an isosceles triangle. The angle of the grip meant that he was effectively punching with his hands, which meant more force could be delivered to the tip. But other than that…
“Ready?” Jake appeared with a long metal staff across his broad shoulders, taken from the many weapon racks on one side of the arena. Gawain nodded. Now, they only had to finish this before any of the Amazons stumbled into them using the practice arena. He was still supposed to be convalescing in his room. Donna would be pretty mad at him if she knew he was here.
She was away for the time being meeting with her old friends, who were delighted at her return. Gawain, not for the first time, was reminded of how small his own world was. Other than Jake, and maybe Tom/Phillip, he had few other people he could truly call friend.
Jake began to swing the staff in wide arcs towards Gawain, and Gawain used the triangle to counter, the sloped sides of the triangle blocking the staff with a metallic clash.
He was still limping to some extent, but Gawain could feel the pain recede as the adrenaline started to flow, blocking out the pain. He rolled under another of the staff’s wide arcs, then coming up with the triangle in a stab at Jake.
The big man pulled back his staff, then brought his staff with both hands down, the section between his hands parrying the sharp end of the triangle downwards.
Gawain rolled to his left and onto his feet, then jumped over another of Jake’s swipes, delivered with enough force to crack his skull. He was into the fight now, though Jake was clearly holding back.
They danced around each other for two minutes, watching for an exploitable opening. Then it was Jake who suddenly went into an all out attack, his staff swinging faster and faster with greater force. Gawain was forced back until he had almost nowhere left to run.
Jake swung his staff down.
Gawain blinked, his inner energy surging, and for the first time since he had gotten the triangle, he suddenly felt something click into place. One moment he was looking at Jake from the front, watching the staff swing down with bone crushing force, the next he was behind Jake.
Jake stared down at the cracked marble on the ground where the end of his staff had hit. Gawain stood behind him, the edge of the metal triangle on Jake’s neck. The triangle itself had changed from an equilateral to an isosceles triangle, extending the length of the triangle from the edge that served as a grip to the sharp tip.
“Looks like you’re beginning to get it,” said Jake without looking back.
Gawain smiled. “Yeah.” And I need to get to Angelo Bend’s apartment. Maybe he has an instruction manual or something.

The warriors of Vassa surveyed the aftermath of the battle at Forssul. No sign had been found of the Lady Donna Troy, but the demons had been stopped. The ground was carpeted with bodies, while those of the demons had already dissolved into nothingness.
“She will be remembered.” Their commander said, his eyes moist with grief at the warrior princess who had won his people their freedom at last.

Glossary
Kessanalt- Long thought to be extinct, but Kessanalt, or at least individuals with Kessanalt abilities, have began reappearing again in the universe, opposing the march of evil via ‘hook or by crook’. They have no idea of the term, and couldn’t care less.
Almost anybody can become a Kessanalt, though the path virtually necessitates youths with a certain mindset and intelligence level to understand and apply the concepts in the Book of Paths. Kessanalt can have several abilities to varying degrees: Control of inner energy, enhancement of physical abilities, healing of self and of others, communication with animals, camouflage/invisibility, intrinsic ability to handle any machine, improved leadership, sixth sense, mind attack/defense, and control over matter. Kessanalt improve in their abilities with time and experience.
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Interlude 3

I don’t know what Tom went through in his youth, and I have no wish to find out.
lang=EN-US -Gawain Sharpe

The monastery was burning around them, and the boy glared at the monk sitting in front of him in his private chambers.
The boy grated out, “Your monks are all dead. This place is burning. Don’t bother to resist.” He held a loaded crossbow aimed at the monk’s head.
The head monk replied calmly, as though he was not staring death in the face, “I knew this day would come, but never would I have known that my killer would be so callous as to claim the innocent lives of my fellow monks, let alone destroy all we have built. Why? After we had given you sanctuary and food?”
The boy explained, “Because my identity would have been compromised, and I don’t wish anybody to know there’s a 14 year old killer running around. So all of them had to die. Don’t worry, I used a quick acting poison in their food. They won’t feel a thing, and you’ll be joining them soon.”
“Still, a boy of your age… You should be in a school studying. Or on a farm working with your parents.”
“I have no parents.” The boy shot back, his tone carrying an undercurrent of rage, “I am almost alone in this world, and the world wishes me dead. I spite the rest of the universe with my survival.”
“Obviously you have been wronged in the past…”
“Wronged?” the boy laughed mirthlessly, “Wronged? For all I have gone through, wronged is a very nice euphemism!”
“And now you seek revenge.” The monk seemed to see through him in that single moment, and 91 felt his inner rage build.
“So what? Revenge is the only thing that keeps me alive, something to live for.”
“And your hatred will consume you one day. Is it worth it?”
The boy said with firm conviction, “As long as I attain my vengeance, yes.”
The monk shook his head sadly, “Put down your sword of slaughter, and seek enlightenment. Or else be damned forever.”
“I am already damned.” He pressed the trigger on the crossbow. The bolt slammed into the monk’s forehead, killing him instantly. He forced himself not to feel anything for his act of murder. The monks had taken him in, given him food and shelter, and he had repaid them with death. But he knew if he did not do this, somebody else would have. It made no difference in the long run.
The boy leaned down with a knife to saw off the monk’s head, in order to collect the reward. He lifted up the bodiless head by its hair, still bleeding on the stump of the neck downwards, placed it inside a box he had prepared, and left the burning monastery.
Walking out of the building, he could feel the heat from behind him. He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. A mongrel dog came running out at him, its tongue hanging out as he leaned down and ruffled its fur. It barked happily at its master. His best friend for the past year.
91 had hardened. He had barely enough money to get to Caph, a world in the grip of anarchy and savage fighting that left its denizens struggling to make ends meet. He ran out of bullets in his first month on the world, and the lack of any manufacturing facilities made it impossible to get any more ammunition. So he had to resort to other means to kill.
Previously, he had killed because he had been forced to do so. Now, he killed because he had no other choice if he wanted to live. Lives were dirt cheap in this lawless land, brigands and highwaymen roaming the countryside, extracting tribute and worse from the hapless people. It was literally kill or be killed in many instances.
Even the head of the monk would fetch him only enough money to buy another two weeks’ worth of food and supplies. The monk had once been a bandit many years ago before he became a monk, and he had killed a rich couple in one of his ambushes, leaving only their terrified son to remember their deaths in a rare show of compassion on the bandit’s part.
Well, that son had grown up swearing revenge, and he had finally gotten it via 91’s crossbow. So much for compassion on this blood stained world. Being kind, being helpful, brought nothing but grief.
91 started walking up a hill, the dog beside him, when the dog started growling as a warning.
lang=EN-US Enemy! 91 reached down for his crossbow and his sword. He didn’t befriend the dog for nothing. The dog warned him of approaching foes, while he fed it and protected it from becoming dog food. In these hungry times, people would eat anything, even fellow human beings. What was a mere dog to them? 91 and the dog were more like partners than anything else, watching and covering each other’s backs for one year already.
A sole figure appeared on top of the hill, a longsword in his hands. 91 tried to ignore the clenching sensation in his stomach. The man was taller than him, his frame thin and wiry with hidden strength, thin wisps of dirty grey hair obscuring part of his face. He stared down at the boy with a confident smile.
91 asked, “What do you want?”
The man shrugged. “The head of Qiang Pang. Little boy, you just made my job a lot easier.”
“Come and get it then.” 91 raised the crossbow and shot off a bolt.
The man moved with frightening speed, like a viper, his longsword already lashing out before 91 knew it. The crossbow bolt simply whizzed past the man’s face, missing by mere inches.
91 barely parried the man’s first move. Then the man stepped in close, his blade against 91’s own sword all the time, rapidly changing the direction of the force he was exerting on his longsword.
The boy’s sword flew away from his hands, and he stared at the man as he slammed a knee into his gut. 91 fell to the ground to see his dog throw itself at the rival assassin. The man stepped sideways, the flat of his sword slapping the dog on its head. 91 saw his dog fall to the ground, woozily trying to get back on its feet.
He stared up at the man, as the man’ longsword descended towards his neck, only to stop as it touched his skin.
“Impressive, boy. You did not flinch.” The swordsman muttered admiringly. “Very well then. I’ll spare your life.” He withdrew the sword, leaving only a think trail of blood across 91’s neck.
91 said cooly, “So that you can claim my efforts for your own in the future?”
The man smiled, “No fear of death, and a brain besides!” He laughed as he lifted up the box with the monk’s head, and walked away back up the hill.
91 stared after him for a while. His sword technique was incredible. If I can learn that…
He made his decision, and forced his weak knees to support his weight as he stood up. He started running after the man, “Wait! Wait!”
The man turned back, and grinned, “What? You wish to die now?”
91 knelt to the ground before the man, the rocky ground hurting his knees, “No. Please, accept me as your student. Teach me your technique.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “An interesting turn of events. Oh well,” the man said casually, “I might consider it if you kowtow to me a hundred times.”
91 stared at the man, then he started kowtowing rapidly, his head hitting the ground with an audible thud. “Thud, thud.” By the tenth kowtow, his forehead began to bruise. By fifty, it was beginning to bleed.
By the time he had finished, with the man watching him intently, his head was covered with blood from the open wound on the spot where his forehead hit the ground. The dog had caught up by now, and barked angrily at the man.
“Hahaha!” The man laughed uproariously, “Amusing, amusing!”
He leaned down to 91, “Do you really wish to learn from me, boy?”
“Yes.”
“Then follow me.”
The man, who called himself Asem, led them to a cliff. The cliff was about two hundred meters high, with jagged, dangerous rocks at the bottom. The surf of the sea as it pounded against the cliff walls served as a reminder of the power of nature.
“If you wish to be my student, you have to pass through three tests.” Asem said to him seriously. “Think you’re up to it?”
“I’ll do it no matter what.” 91 replied back.
“Good, then jump off this cliff into the sea. Now. No questions.”
91 turned and ran for the edge of the cliff, ignoring the barking of his dog.
He saw only the rocks as he hurtled towards them, then everything went dark.

He awoke to see the dog licking him anxiously, and the condescending smile on Asem’s face. “The dog dragged you out of the water. You managed to miss all the rocks. Lucky, lucky you.”
91 managed to croak out, “Why?”
Asem seemed as if he was looking at some faraway place, “The sea represents everything out there that we do not know. The challenges we cannot defeat. The things we cannot have. To jump off the cliff means that you have effectively accepted that fact that one day you will meet somebody more powerful, better, stronger, and the reality of your death. For the way of the sword is death, sooner or later.”
Asem leaned down, his eyes glowing wildly, “Ready for the next test?”
91 nodded.
Asem brought them into a forest. He seemed to be looking around for something, and 91 tried to control the revulsion in his stomach when he realized what Asem was looking for.
A cesspit, filled to the brim with shit and urine. It stank terribly, and the boy was suddenly glad he had not had any meal for the past few hours. He would have vomited at the smell.
He asked Asem, “So this is your next test? For me to eat shit and drink urine?”
Asem shook his head, “Not so bad as that, boy. What I want you to do is to immerse yourself into the cesspit for one full day, without any food or drink.” He explained further, “Just like the previous test, this one means something as well. To be an assassin, you must discard your pride, your dignity. Many times, you will be reviled, mocked, and humiliated in the course of fulfilling your mission. And you must endure, no matter what. Can you do it?”
91 stared back at Asem, and took off his tattered shirt. Then he stepped into the cesspit, and the urine came up to his neck. Pieces of dung floated near his face, and the boy forced himself to ignore the stench.

It was almost a full day, and the boy was close to collapsing, his eyes almost closed with bone deep fatigue. The hot sun beat down on his face, streaked with caked dung and dried urine when he had almost collapsed into the cesspit several times, but managed to pull himself back up. His nose had long since desensitized itself to the odor, but the taste of the cesspit was horrible beyond belief.
He longed for some water, some food, but Asem had simply said, “If you wish to drink, drink the urine. If you wish to eat, you can eat the shit. They’re all there!”
lang=EN-US I will succeed! lang=EN-US 91 forced himself to remain standing. For my revenge, for everything done to me, I will succeed! I will learn his technique, and then I shall use it to gain power!
He didn’t know how exactly he was going to go about it, but he didn’t care.
“And you have passed the test.” Asem declared when the sun reached its apex. “Remarkable, boy. I have not thought you would be able to withstand such a stringent trial. Now go wash yourself up, and meet me five hundred meters south of here. Do not tarry long; the final test awaits.”
The dog ignored the stench, and helped pull him out of the cesspit. He laid on the ground for a while, almost drifting off into sleep with exhaustion. But he forced himself to his feet. He would not stop now!
After washing himself as clean as he could in a nearby river, he found Asem tending a fire. The man threw a sword towards him. “Here, take this. Your final test requires it.”
“And that is?”
Asem glanced down at the dog beside 91. “I wish to have dog meat for dinner tonight. A killer has no loyalty. No morals. No emotions. He has no friends in the world, only fellow predators, and prey. Prove to me that you’re such a killer.”
The dog growled, but 91 did not hesitate. He swung the blade down furiously to one side, trying to force back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He repeated his purpose in his mind. For my vengeance. For my vengeance, nothing else matters.
Asem walked up to 91, as he knelt by the still body of his dog, mechanically carving it apart for cooking. Then Asem began to laugh, “Even dogs possess loyalty! You’re worse than a dog now! Good, good! I shall teach you everything I know, and you shall be the finest killing weapon in the land when I’m through with you!”
The killer continued to laugh manically as 91 finally knelt in front of him and bowed three times, as dictated by custom.
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The Games that Gods Play