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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
- 33
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And you have to understand this, that a prince, especially a new one, cannot observe all those things for which men are esteemed, being often forced, in order to maintain the state, to act contrary to faith, friendship, humanity, and religion.
-The Prince, Niccolo Machiavelli
Batman held a sobbing Poison Ivy in his grasp, covering her naked, sticky body with his bulletproof cape. He glared out at the tableau before him in the dark, damp confines of the abandoned restaurant. Chairs and tables were strewn across the floor, evidence of the violent struggle that had just taken place. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. Not after the beating Delacroix had given him, and the paralyzing dart that had weakened him.
Villains were likewise thrown everywhere, some of them unconscious, others quite dead. But in the middle of the scene, stood Phillip Delacroix and the Joker. The clown, for one of the few times Batman had known him, was wearing an expression of utter fear on his pasty face. Phillip Delacroix, in contrast, held a blank look, the slightest of smiles on his mouth. Batman tried to fight down his own fear.
They had good reasons to be afraid. The Ventriloquist and Scarface were on the ground, a small puddle of blood around the Ventriloquist’s neck. Wesker had his vocal chords sliced open with surgical strikes with metal slivers from Delacroix’s hands. The Ventriloquist would never speak again, he could never throw his voice again to the puppet in his hands: Scarface was forever trapped in Wesker’s own fractured psyche.
Mister Freeze stood motionless in a corner, trapped in a cryo-cage that kept him alive even as he slumbered in a deep sleep, beyond the ability of anybody to awaken. The owner of Ares Macrotech had used some nanotechnology to turn Freeze’s own refrigeration suit against himself.
Penguin sat very still in a corner. His businesses had all been bought out by Delacroix upon the other man’s arrival in Gotham; he was a respectable businessman now, a key executive of Ares Macrotech operations in Gotham. But the present show of slaughter showed him very clearly just what the consequences of opposing Phillip Delacroix’s macabre and sinister plans were.
Black Mask was dead, killed by an enraged Joker after he had raped Ivy and Harley Quinn. Batman knew that Delacroix wasn’t behind the rape, but he was sure Phillip had manipulated events anyway to ensure that the Joker killed Black Mask. Harley was sobbing under Penguin’s wary gaze.
Batman wondered if killing the villains outright would have been more merciful. He didn’t want to think about the fact that all this agony and pain was a result of him demanding that Phillip Delacroix not kill anybody in Gotham. The other man had accepted then, but Batman now knew he had just played into Phillip’s devious scheme.
Hush had escaped, as had Prometheus, both men managing to evade Delacroix’s web of deceit that had ensnared almost every prominent member of Gotham’s infamous criminal society, and sent them into a spiral of mutual death and destruction at Delacroix’s hands. Batman didn’t know whether to feel sad or grateful.
Scarecrow was shivering in a corner, one of his potions having backfired on him when Delacroix had stolen his vials and flung them all back into his face. Zsasz was dead, killed by a car when Delacroix had flung another fear vial at him, causing the insane murderer to dash across a street, where he had been promptly killed by an onrushing truck. Bane was a broken man, his knee and elbow joints shattered in a fight with Delacroix. His enhanced strength had been utterly useless against somebody who had beaten even Shiva herself.
It had all started when some crazy mobster had tried to kidnap Delacroix on a visit to Gotham, precipitating a power struggle amongst the crime elements of Gotham. Batman was strongly reminded of his own War Games scenario which had been so badly handled, but apparently Delacroix had planned and pulled off his own plan perfectly, all the time in the thick of things, manipulating, scheming, pitting mobster against mobster until all of them had eliminated one another in the course of just 24 bloody hours.
The Joker was the endgame now, Batman was sure of it, the exclamation mark for Delacroix’s paragraph of whatever he wanted to display by this supreme show of strategy and skill. The Joker stared at Delacroix, his hands empty after having his last weapon shot out of his hands by Delacroix. The other man pointed his Beretta at the Joker, waiting for the clown to make his next move.
“I’m not afraid of you!” The Joker yelled, his eyes wide with fear, spittle flying from his mouth. “You’re just a prissy little nothing! Come on, shoot me!”
Delacroix did not speak, and only raised an eyebrow.
The Joker reached down for a gun, but Phillip coolly snapped a shot that passed between the Joker’s fingers, making the criminal mastermind pull back his hand.
“What do you want from me?” The Joker demanded, sweat pouring out all over his stricken face. “What the hell do you want?”
“Nothing. Everything. Take your pick.”
“Stop speaking in riddles!”
“You’d rather I start speaking in jokes instead?” Delacroix smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m just waiting for something.”
Batman heard it first through his auditory amplifiers. Police sirens.
“Ahh, I think they’re here.” Delacroix made a theatrical show of turning around, just as the door to the restaurant was opened by a pair of nervous policemen holding guns and torches. He also rather conspicuously lowered his gun.
Seeing an opportunity to kill his enemy, never mind that there were witnesses about, the Joker dove for a gun at his feet, and picked it up. He aimed it towards Delacroix, and Batman suddenly knew that it was exactly what Delacroix had wanted the Joker to do. He yelled, “No!” But the Joker was already too far gone in his fear to listen.
The policemen froze in the doorway, even as Delacroix spun around casually, his Beretta spitting gunfire at the Joker, the shots smashing right through the Joker’s belly. The Joker had squeezed his own trigger at the same time, but this time the joke was on him: the gun was simply one of those party piece guns the Joker was so fond of using to frighten his enemies. A banner hung out of the barrel of the toy gun, with the words “Sucker!” printed in fluorescent yellow on a green background.
“No…” The Joker whimpered as he collapsed to the ground. “It… can’t… be.”
“He’s not dead yet. Get an ambulance, ASAP. Lots of wounded here.” Delacroix said to one of the police. They scurried to do as he told them, never mind the fact that he had a gun in his hands.
Batman looked at Phillip, and the other man offered him a mocking smile and salute. He knew Phillip would walk away from all this; everything he did could be claimed as self defense, and none of it was illegal. And there was no way the people of Gotham would think of pinning anything on the one person who’d just solved much of their crime trouble in one single night.
But what the hell did he want at the end of all this?

It was two hours later, when he had been able to assess the events of the night objectively. It was still about three in the morning, and Batman considered a second patrol. Not that the city needed it. Everybody was left satisfied and stupefied at the fates of the villains.
“Sir, we have a visitor.” Alfred’s cool, calm voice broke into his reverie as Bruce Wayne sat in the Batcave before his computer, trying to figure out just what Delacroix wanted. The man was dangerous, far more dangerous than anybody he had ever met. Skill with intelligence, along with almost unlimited resources, and the full backing of an Olympian God. Utterly ruthless and committed. Is there any way we can stop him?
“Who is it?”
“Phillip Delacroix.” Alfred spoke the name with a tinge of distaste. “He is past the gates, and driving his way to the mansion now, sir.”
“Didn’t you tell him to leave at the gates?”
“I’m afraid not.” Alfred’s face grimaced. “He said that you should not waste so much time in your cave looking for answers when you could just ask him.”
“Damn.”
Bruce stood up, and steeled himself for a likely fight, all the while feeling the bruises all over his arms and legs when Delacroix had beaten him up. Delacroix knew who he was, there was no hiding it from the man. He would just have to live with it.
They were waiting for Delacroix in the foyer when he drove up, parking his car in one of the many empty lots next to the mansion. Delacroix greeted Alfred politely, which Bruce knew surprised the aging butler. “I had expected a more… rude disposition.”
Phillip shrugged. “Only when I’m fighting my enemies, Mister Pennyworth. Besides, my patrons had spent a great deal of money to civilize me, and I try to act appropriately.”
Bruce folded his arms, and asked, “So you’re not here to fight?”
“If I’m here to fight, you’ll never see me coming.” Batman nodded. That much was true enough.
“Then what are you here for?”
“You want answers. I’ll can give them to you.” Phillip sniffed the air, then frowned, as though disapproving of whatever he had smelt. “Let’s go in and talk.”
Moments later, they were alone in the study, while Alfred went to get tea for both men. Phillip stood quietly to one side, examining one of the many portraits of Bruce’s parents.
“Everything the Batman is, is just a result of tragedy.” Phillip commented. “After I discovered your identity, I checked your records, which explained everything you are today.” He faced Bruce, “And that is also why you’re still limited by the restrictions you’ve imposed upon yourself due to the events of that day.” Delacroix’s words cut to the heart of the matter. “At the end of the day, you cannot abandon your morals to do what you must.”
Bruce allowed the grating calm of the Batman to seep into his growling reply. “I don’t need to do that to protect my people.” He noted that Delacroix was slightly taller than he was, but not as muscular. However, Batman knew he packed a lot of strength in that lean form of his, which seemed to be perfectly suited for a swordsman. Can I beat him at anything? At all?
“Protect your people? Hah!” Phillip snorted. “Zsasz, the Joker. How many people have they killed since you’ve fought and captured them for the first time? Too many to count, Mister Wayne, and doubtless more in the future.”
“And you killed them.”
“The Joker’s still alive.” Delacroix smiled that deadly smile of his, the one that told his enemies that they had already lost, while his eyes glowed with the promise of pain. “Crippled from the spine down. Stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his miserable life. Poetic justice, don’t you think?”
Bruce stiffened.
“Oh, I know about your little coterie. Who your protégés all are.” Delacroix sat down on the couch facing Bruce, and leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “So many lives hanging on just one simple secret. How interesting.”
“Don’t you dare!” The Batman clenched his fist.
“Oh, I dare, and more. What are you going to do about it?” Delacroix leaned back. “Magic wouldn’t work. Nor would mindwipes. I have the backing of an Olympian god, after all. And I’m not out for something as silly as taking over your identity.”
Batman stiffened at the reference to Hugo Strange. “Then what do you want?”
“You know that I’m at war with Luthor. Well, I’d like WayneCorp to join in. Between the two of us, we can grind Luthor into paste, or at least irrelevance. I took care of your little crime problem because I want you thinking up ways to hurt Luthor, not going out dressed as a flying rodent.”
Bruce snarled. “I’ll not be complicit in any of your illegal dealings.”
“You won’t be. WayneCorp handles the legal attacks on the stock market and the boardroom; my own resources will do the dirty work.” Phillip smiled. “Luthor has been a pain to you and your fellows for a long time now. I’m offering you the chance to put him down for good.”
Bruce thought, In exchange for perhaps an even more implacable foe? “And what do you get out of it?”
“One less competitor, especially one with no moral qualms. Expanded operations for Ares Macrotech. A stop on the attempts on my life. Flattering, I know, to be marked for death, but not very healthy in the long run.”
Batman said, “And how do I know if I can trust you?”
“You can’t.”
Bruce understood. “Because you hold all the cards.” When Phillip didn’t answer, he went on. “But I also think I know what you want. You work for Ares, and he is an ambitious god, to say the least. By expanding Ares Macrotech, you’re also increasing his influence in our world, which then translates into greater power for him. Am I right so far?”
“Go on.”
“But what’s in it for you? Power? Wealth? You have these already. I have studied you, Phillip Delacroix, and I do not think these are the things you want.”
Phillip asked with a smile, “Then what do I want?”
Batman grunted. “Vengeance. I don’t know on who, but that’s what you’re after. And there’s more.”
The smile disappeared. He could see the surprise in Delacroix’s eyes, before the other man clamped down on his feelings. “Oh?”
“You seek affection, love, companionship too, no matter how much you try to deny it. That’s why you’re with Veronica Cale. You have not been able to shut yourself off from the world. And most important of all, you have donated more than more than a hundred million to various charitable organizations. Anonymously.” Batman concluded, “You’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”
“It doesn’t matter. None of it does. You’ll still do as I tell you, or I’ll reveal your secret, and to hell with everything else. So stop your psychoanalyzing, and get that brain of yours working on how you’re going to help me.”
Batman nodded. “Fine. But one of these days, I’ll find a way, and then you’re going down. Hard.”
“Fine. Keep trying.” Phillip rose, and started to walk out of the room, just as Alfred entered with a tray of refreshments. “I’m sorry, Mister Pennyworth, but we’ve just finished our discussion, and I have better things to do. People to kill, enemies to conquer, and all that.” He smiled grimly. “I’ll see you around, Wayne.”

SLAP!
Phillip rubbed his left cheek, trying to ease the stinging pain. His cheek glowed with a red handprint, the size of the mark indicating a female source for his troubles. After his meeting with Bruce Wayne, he had flown in a private jet back to New York, where he had to catch up on a whole day of work caused by his absence. He realized he should have taken the day off.
Veronica Cale stood angrily before him, her eyes glowering at him, as he started thinking about escape routes from his office, where she had entered almost immediately after he had. Unfortunately, the woman did not look as if she was willing to give him a chance to get away. He fidgeted nervously, not quite understanding why he always lost his unflappable calm in front of her. Maybe it was Veronica’s heavy slap across his face the moment she saw him in the office. Maybe it was because he couldn’t bring himself to hit back, no matter what.
“You idiot.” Ronnie hissed in a low tone. “If you want to get yourself killed, why don’t you just open a window here and jump out?”
“I wasn’t…”
She interjected, “Taking on the criminals of Gotham City single-handedly… What were you thinking?”
“But…”
“All this without telling me! How many more times are you going to risk your life like that? I can’t take much more of this, Phillip. When the papers reported that you were kidnapped in Gotham, the first thing I did was to call Diana, and she immediately rushed over to Gotham to investigate, only to be chased off by that jerk Batman. And then we heard nothing until you were back in New York.”
He looked down at the floor. “Where’s Diana now?”
“Oh, she had a meeting with some UN delegates. I didn’t think you had the heart to think of us.” Her voice was cold.
“I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“Sorry can’t cut it any more, Phillip.” She sighed. “What is it with you and danger? I can understand when people sought to kill you, but Gotham…”
He tried to explain, “I was kidnapped…”
“Oh save it!” Cale shouted. “Who are you trying to fool? A few mobsters with guns capturing you? You probably set the whole thing up in the first place!” His face must have given him away, because she grew livid with anger as her suspicions were confirmed. “My god, you were behind it all along!”
Phillip winced. “I had my reasons. And it turned out okay.”
She glared at him, before stomping off.
He called out after her, “Does that mean our dinner date for tonight is cancelled?”
She stopped, and turned around. “No. It’s still on.” If anything, the glare she shot him was even more deadly than before. If she had eye lasers, he’d been burnt to a crisp already. Then she left.
He massaged the area around his eyes for a while, trying to figure out some way to make up with Cale, and giving up when he realized he didn’t have the slightest ideas. For the next few hours, he concentrated on work, looking at financial figures and profit margins.
It was just before lunchtime when Wonder Woman entered his office, wearing a rather angry look on her beautiful face. Phillip rolled his eyes, mentally asking himself again why he had told his secretary to allow Veronica Cale and Princess Diana free access to his office, when they seemingly abused it at every opportunity.
The Amazon Princess looked crossly at him. “You made us worry, Phillip. Did you know how dangerous the Joker and the crime elements of Gotham are?”
He grimaced. At least she didn’t try to take his head off, which would be simple enough with her strength. “I’m sorry. But it was something I had to do.”
He was surprised when he saw a slight smile appear on her mouth. “And I wish I had the courage to have done what you did.”
“Huh?”
“You thought that I would not notice the villains you had either scared off, killed, or rendered powerless?” Diana shook her head. “I do not condone killing, though I accept that it is sometimes necessary. With your actions, you have solved Gotham’s crime problem, perhaps forever.”
“I did not kill any of them. Besides, forever is a long time, and that city attracts maniacs like honey attracts bees,” he pointed out. “And if some of them died, they were either killed by another criminal or by accident.” He paused. “I know in some ways, I will still be held responsible for what happened. I am not, however, regretful.”
Her blue eyes were curious, appraising him carefully. “Why not?”
“Diana, I have been called evil by many people already.” He shrugged. “If I am to be called evil, then I had better at least make it count for something.”
She stared at him. “I am beginning to think I can never really understand you.”
“And I hope you never do. It is a terrible choice to make, the killing of men, and it gets easier by the day.” He wished Diana would never lose her innocence, the sense of purity that she still possessed despite having killed her enemies before. She did so only in circumstances when she had no other choice; he killed if he considered the long term advantages to be worth it. Two completely different moral sets.
He didn’t want to admit that he saw her as an anchor of sanity and hope, especially when the nightmares came.
“Is there anything else?” He asked.
She smiled wryly. “No, unless you’re planning to tell me what your master Ares is up to.”
He shook his head, “Sorry, you know our policy under Ares.”
She was about to walk away when she suddenly grabbed him by one arm, dragging him out of his chair. “Hey!”
“Oh, sorry.” She smiled at him sweetly. “There was something I need.”
“And that is?”
Her eyes were predatory. “Somebody to accompany me for lunch. You’ve been chosen, Mister Delacroix.”
Knowing he was no match for her strength, Phillip could only offer her a weak grin as Wonder Woman dragged him away, with chuckles and whispers from his staff trailing in his wake, as they pointed and laughed at their whipped boss.

Diana hummed to herself happily as she read the proposals for several initiatives for improving the lot of people in developing countries. The past few weeks, save for Phillip’s escapade in Gotham, had been relatively calm.
The competition between her and Cale had remained surprisingly civil, and she thought she could regard Veronica as an acquaintance and somewhat ally now, instead of an enemy. Her efforts to get her message through to the once stubborn businesswoman had paid off, and Veronica’s petty hatred for her was receding to just plain jealousy.
Of course, much of it had to do with the even more obstinate Phillip Delacroix. Diana had learnt that whenever they needed to get him to do something against his will, it required both of them to work on him, and that had required cooperation between the two women. In so doing, they were beginning to understand each other. From hints Diana picked up from their conversations, she had found out about Cale’s past, which was full of pain. Perhaps that was why Cale seemed to have the upper hand with Phillip; they had similar painful pasts that defined them.
Nevertheless, their scheme was working out as well as they had hoped. Each of them alternated spending time with Phillip, and each of them tried their very best to get him interested. However much he seemed to enjoy their company, he still kept to himself, unwilling to open up. Diana knew he was afraid of her because the enmity between their masters, but he was just as determined to stay emotionally distant from Veronica. Still, Diana could tell that he cared, beyond the cold façade he tried to affect.
If only he would show either of one a sign that he loved them!
Diana laughed softly. She was an Amazon, royalty, a Princess of Themyscira, the Champion of their nation, and yet here she was, wanting a man, her enemy no less, to love her. She thought about how pathetic it was. But she couldn’t help but be drawn to him. He was one of the best warriors she had ever seen, perhaps the very best. But more than that, was the fact that he cared.
Batman had quickly written a report on the events in Gotham, and she had been chilled by Phillip’s actions. She did not know if she would have done the same things he did, but then again, she had tools and powers that gave her options that Phillip did not have. She could have subdued the criminals without hurting them. Phillip didn’t have that luxury.
Or did he? Diana remembered how he had defeated Cronus and the myriad opponents he had faced. If he really tried, could he defeat them without hurting them permanently? After all, Batman could, and the Amazon was quite sure Phillip was just as skilled. In other words, he was willing to maim Batman’s rogues gallery because he really needed Bruce’s help. And she knew well that the shady underworld of backstabbing and deals that characterized the corporate arena was some place that very few heroes dared to enter.
Artemis entered the room. “Good afternoon, little sister.”
“Artemis,” Diana greeted her warmly. “What brings you here?”
The red haired Amazon snorted. “Your mother sent me to check up on you. She said you seem to be spending too much time around Ares’ minion, and wanted me to remind you to be careful.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “I’m know what I’m doing. But that’s not all, is it?”
Artemis nodded. “We have some… problems on Themyscira.”
Wonder Woman stood up suddenly. “Is Mother well?”
“Relax. The Queen is fine, as are our sisters. It’s only our neighbors who might be trouble.”
Diana sat back down, dread building up in her stomach. “The island of men. Our mirror images.”
Artemis frowned. “I know after that incident with Ares, they stayed on their island with the Lindstadts to guide them along. Well, that’s changed.”
“What?”
“For the past few months, Ares has been rebuilding his influence amongst the men of the island, promising them power and riches if they would follow him. Ana and Henry are trying their best, but the men are becoming restless.”
“So what does Mother intend to do?”
“She wants you to go there and try to convince the men to stay away from Ares, and ignore whatever he is offering.” Artemis snarled. “Failing that, the Queen intends for us to storm the island and ensure that they would never be a threat to us.”
Diana felt chilled, but she also understood the reasons behind her mother’s decision. An island of men, dedicated to Ares’, would be a frightening force for evil. But Phillip also worked for Ares, and he wasn’t evil, no matter how often he claimed that he was.
Diana made her decision. “Artemis, I’ll go back to Themyscira tomorrow. I need to meet the Queen and the rest of our sisters. Perhaps we can find a solution that does not involve bloodshed.”
Artemis agreed. “Very well then.”

Phillip stared at the candle in his hands. He had obtained it with some effort from some out-of-luck supervillain who had more use for immediate cash than the candle, since the man was too scared to actually use the candle, knowing what it was used for.
The Lion of Ares, however, not only knew the purpose of the candle, but even looked forward to using it. He could have used it long ago, but he knew he needed some form of statement, a certain notoriety, if he wanted to be heard. So he had to take out the Joker, gain credibility, even if it only earned him fear in the supervillain community. Not a big problem, since he wasn’t counting much on them anyway.
Standing alone in his secret base in the Cascade, the light all turned off, he lit the candle. The candle burned, then suddenly blazed with a wicked red flame. Phillip placed it on the floor, and waited patiently.
Then he felt it. A sudden oppressive presence in the room, heavy and overpowering, reeking of ancient power and evil. A man stepped into the area illuminated by the candle’s red glare. He was a tall blonde, handsome looking and incredibly charismatic. Dressed in a business suit, he wore an ever present grin, as though laughing at some joke known only to himself.
The blond man opened his mouth to speak, but Phillip cut him off. “Well, well, well. Neron, isn’t it?”
Neron narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth.
Again, Phillip interjected. “Hmm, you don’t look like much.”
Anger flared in Neron’s eyes, the smile disappearing. “And you’re pressing your luck, mortal.”
Phillip raised his hands. “If you want to kill me, or send me to hell, I don’t mind.” He smiled. “But aren’t you just the bit curious as to why I contacted you now?”
“I am intrigued, yes.” Neron gestured, and a chair appeared behind him. He sat down. “You have been exceptionally evil and good at the same time, hard as it is for me to believe, and your manner of speech towards your betters borders on the vulgar.”
Phillip, who was already sitting on a chair, shrugged. “I only respect only those who have earned it. And come to think of it, you don’t deserve my respect either.”
Neron’s eyes glowed. “And why is that?”
Phillip knew he was playing with fire with his next word, but he spoke it anyway. “Naar.”
Neron’s pale face grew white. “What?”
“You claim to be the devil, dear Neron. But I know the truth. You’re just a lowly pawn in somebody’s else’s hands. There’re far greater powers and evils beyond you and me, beyond Darkseid and the Bull Host, beyond this insignificant backwater galaxy where you’ve been banished to. And now that I’m here, you’re not the only who holds that knowledge.”
“Who are you?” Neron’s voice was low, yet tinged with fear.
“Nobody. Just a pawn of Ares, doing his bidding. I just wanted to take the measure of the demon in charge of the local hell domains. That is, you.”
“I can destroy you right now, Delacroix.”
Phillip laughed. “Hah! Yes, do that! But that’d mean acting against the rules set by your superiors, where each and every action of yours must be designed to gain souls for your own power base.”
“I can always hold Veronica Cale and Wonder Woman…”
“You stay away from them, or I will take you down.” Phillip’s response was even, but deadly.
“So there are things you care about. Hard to protect them when you’re dead, eh?”
Phillip forced a smile, then plunged into the next part of his plan. “How about this? I might want a favor in the future, so I’d like to know how much my soul is worth to you.”
“You want me to appraise your soul?”
“Too difficult for you, oh great demon?” Phillip taunted.
Neron smiled, and then his eye color changed. Then, as if it was possible, he grew even paler. This time, he even tried to get away from Phillip as stark naked terror exploded on his face, and he tried to back away from Phillip, only to find the chair in the way. He crashed in an undignified fashion over the chair and onto the floor.
Phillip frowned. Of all the responses he was expecting, that was one he had not predicted. He walked over to Neron, who screamed out. “Get away from me!”
“What’s wrong with you? I only asked you to appraise my soul, not turn into a wimp.”
Neron blinked, then realized where he was. His eyes focused on Phillip, and he shuddered.
“So, what did you see?”
The demon trembled. “Do whatever you like, Phillip Delacroix, but no matter what, do not die with violence.”
Philip recalled a memory. Your death shall bring catastrophe. “What do you mean?”
Neron grimaced. “Do you really expect me to tell you? Just know this, I cannot take your soul. And I really suggest you leave this world, this galaxy, as soon as you can.” His voice was cold. “Your staying here will only bring doom upon those around you.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“No. You know damn well yourself what you are. You don’t need me to tell you.” Neron stepped out of the candle’s light. “I leave you with these words, Phillip Delacroix. Any more and I’ll be breaking my own rules.” Then out from the darkness, Neron had one final thing to say. “Oh, and don’t bother coming to hell to look for me. I’ll be sure to stay away from you from now on.”
Phillip scowled. This was not how he had envisioned his meeting with Neron to end. He had thought to trade his worthless soul for information on Luthor, but it seemed that Neron had not wanted to take his soul, and had given him information he didn’t need. Oh well, better luck next time, I guess.

Ares stepped into the café from the cold night of the streets, and observed the scene. There was none of the loud bitching and blustering going on between the men during their poker sessions, which was in itself unusual. Instead, his minions, plus Gawain Sharpe and young Ramon, were staring at the samor board between Phillip and Jake.
Ares sidled up next to Stan, and asked in a whisper, “What’s going on?” He had been busy with other things the past few days, and
Stan answered back just as softly, “Jake and Phillip got into a samor game before Phillip went on that Gotham trip, but they were unable to finish. They’re supposed to finish the game now. I don’t think they can, though.”
Ares turned to look at the board, and winced. The lines of opposing white and black pieces were already formed, and both players were moving rapidly, with barely a pause as they committed pieces and units with seemingly reckless abandon. Phillip’s forces were bunched up together, while Jake’s were more spread out.
Both players were moving their pieces in a frenzy, and Ares could not imagine a bloodier war as whole units were sacrificed and abandoned without a second thought while each player pursued his objectives. The vagaries of luck in samor also played a part, no matter how much Jake and Phillip tried to minimize its effects.
In chess, the first few moves were often the fastest, almost preprogrammed into players, with the game slowing down only as new situations emerged. In samor, the opposite was true, with a great deal of strategic jostling in the first few moves, and then a vicious tussle at all levels culminating in the endgame. The scales were also completely different, with local battles taking place all over the samor board.
“Looks like a real dogfight there.” Morgan commented as he took a sip from his can of beer. “Never thought much of go, but this is changing my mind in a hurry.”
“It’s not go,” Phillip said without looking up from the board. “It’s samor.”
Morgan shrugged. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”
Silence reigned for the next hour as they watched the game. The non-players knew better than to suggest moves, since they have little idea of which moves are better. Gawain, who Ares assumed knew the game well, simply sat behind Jake while quietly explaining moves to a confused Ramon.
Then all of a sudden, it was over. Jake and Phillip shook hands, while the others watched in surprise.
“So, who won?” Stan asked, looking from Jake to Phillip.
“Phillip.” Jake replied. “I surrendered.”
“You didn’t seem to be losing.” Morgan said.
“Because you just couldn’t see it yet.” Jake smiled.
“Ahem.” Ares coughed for attention, and he was gratified to see the people in the café turn to him. “I know it’s fun to discuss samor now, but I actually have something more important to tell all of you.”
Gawain looked dubious, until Ares added, “Look, I’ll throw in money and information. I’m going to be completely forthright on this, so just hear me out. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”
“I’m listening.”
Ares nodded, and started talking about the island of men near Themyscira, itself just off the coast of Florida after Hera’s kick that sent it there. He explained their purpose, why he had placed them there. He had wanted to gloss over the details of the adventure where Wonder Woman had managed to free the men from his control, but Phillip’s cool gaze told him he had better come clean, and so he did. He went on to describe what he had been doing with those men, rebuilding his power and influence amongst them.
“So why are you telling us all these?” Ramon scratched his head. “You’re getting them on your side, good for you!”
“Ramon.” Jake warned his ward stiffly, before facing Ares. “I think I know why you’re telling us this now.”
Ares said, “The recent attacks on Phillip are a clear indication of war between Ares Macrotech and Lexcorp. Phillip, your idea of Knight Errant is an excellent one, except that free agents on the market are pretty hard to recruit, not to mention specialized metahumans of any use. Right now, we need bodies, and that island of men is going to provide us with the army we need.”
“But they don’t have any training, right?” Morgan pointed out.
“And absolutely little to no comprehension of modern technology.” Joshua said. “Or how the world works.” He snorted. “I doubt the people who do have contact with them are willing to show them that information.”
Ramon quoted, “Information is freedom, for he who denies you information, dreams himself your master.” They all stared at him, and Ramon exclaimed, “Hey, just something I read!”
“Indeed. By keeping my men in the dark, the Amazons have effectively enslaved them, something I am going to need your help to change.” Ares said. “I want my men to have the choice to make decisions for themselves. Preferably on my side, of course.” He smiled. “But to do so, I needed WayneCorp out of the picture, because they’d been responsible for supplying the island with some medicine and supplies, out of the eyes of the world.”
Phillip replied, “Consider that done. What else?”
Ares looked at Jake and Ramon. “Ramon, how far ahead of your work are you?”
The boy held his palm horizontal to his chest, and wiggled it. “So-so.”
“Good. Jake, I want you, Gawain and Ramon on the island to look at the situation there. I know, I know,” Ares held up a hand to forestall Jake’s protest. “You have the café to consider. I’m willing to compensate you for your time and energy. You have skills, Jake Kabrinski, and I need those skills. You three had better leave as quickly as possible. Gawain, use that triangle of yours. It’s faster.”
Gawain mused, “An army of men…” He asked Ares, “I’m not sure I can trust you.”
“One way or the other, I will turn them into an army. Wouldn’t it be better if you were there to guide them? To observe them?”
“There is that.” Gawain conceded.
“What about us?” Stan asked.
“Morgan, use your pull with the defense department to authorize an unit of Spec Ops troopers to visit the island. Stan, I need a news crew ready, and make sure they’re all male. Joshua, I want you to get a boat with construction equipment heading towards the island. Make the crew and workers male too.”
“What do I do?” Phillip asked.
Ares smiled. “Whatever you want to do, but I want you on the island by tomorrow evening.”
Ramon asked, “Why the rush?”
Ares replied calmly, “Because the Amazons might just decide to kill all the men before I can make them into a real army.”
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That’s it for this chapter! The men on the island are from Carol Lay’s Mythos, created by Ares to destroy the Amazons. He still might want them for that purpose, but the God of Conflict has bigger plans in store.
This arc introduces the Myrmidons, as well as the elite Pathfinders. Plus a war in another dimension that involves both the Amazons and the Myrmidons!
I’ve revised the Kessenalt ability lists, to resemble the skill trees from Diablo 2. Look out for it in the coming weeks!
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The Games that Gods Play