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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
- 8
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Run fast. Hang tough. Die hard.
-Graffiti on wall outside Ares Macrotech HQ
They forgot ‘Shoot straight’.
-Gawain ‘Wild Hunter’ Sharpe
Wonder Woman found herself within a room, on a chair held by heavy metal chains. She strained her mighty muscles against the chains, and managed to break free of them with some difficulty.
What happened? She thought as she removed the last of the chains, noting that her lasso was missing from her side. The last thing she remembered was being pummeled by a masked and muscular man, just after an explosion in her embassy. Her body still twitched a bit from the remembered pain, and Diana gritted her teeth.
Rachel! Dana’s mind went immediately to the member of her staff who had been in the room when the supposed informant had exploded. The Amazon wept for her dead friend. I’m sorry, Rachel, I was too slow to save you!
I will avenge your death, Diana turned her sorrow into anger as she turned to face the sole door in the room. They should have known that mere chains cannot hold me! She summoned up her strength to smash through it, only to suddenly bounce off an object as she broke through the door.
Diana found herself back in the room, shaking her head groggily from the forceful impact. She looked up to see a tall muscular figure standing in the doorway, and she recognized it as the man who had attacked her, even if he was wearing a mask.
“You will pay for this indignity!” Diana shouted as she flew forward, her hands ready to inflict punishment upon her attacker.
Wonder Woman stared in surprise as her powerful blow simply glanced off the man’s chin.
“Is that all you got, little lady?” The man then backhanded her across the room and past one wall into the street outside. “You’re pathetic!”
Diana could not believe the sheer power in the blow, and the pain throughout her body made it difficult to concentrate. Then she slammed into the opposite building, and her dizziness increased.
“Now you will suffer!” The man said as he leaped forward at her, his fists slamming into her stomach.
Diana did not know anything after that, as her blurry vision was rocked by a series of punches to her face, each one coming fast on the heels of the previous blow. She felt blows all over her body as well, pummeling her luscious breasts, her firm, toned stomach, and her strong arms.
After about a minute of this incredible pounding, the man suddenly kicked her in her groin again, the tip of his boot connecting squarely on her pubic mound, almost entering her vaginal canal.
“ARRRGGGHHH!!!” Diana had never known such pain. Her enemies had never resorted to such underhanded methods against her, and all her Amazon training had never prepared her for such agony in her most private of places.
Overcome by the searing pain in her loins, she fell unconscious.

Veronica Cale was running away from a mob of leering men, all men she knew, all faces she recognized. The men she had used and discarded for her plans, her success. There was the businessmen, the government officials, the politicians. Some of them, she had wrecked after she had wrung all she could out of them.
The expressions on their faces terrified her.
“Help! Somebody help me!” Cale screamed as she ran, somehow knowing that she was alone, with nobody to help her.
Then one man put on a burst of speed, tacking her to the ground. Cale gasped as her skin scraped painfully across the ground.
“No! Please, don’t!” Veronica shrieked as they crowded around her, blocking out the sunlight. The grabbing hands pulled off her clothes in shreds. Veronica kicked out as best as she could, but the men quickly immobilized her. All she could do was squirm as best as she could.
The she felt a fleshy object rub against her nether regions, and Cale immediately tensed up, and went into another furious bout of desperate struggling. “Get that away from me, please!” But they just clamped down harder on her body, and Cale stopped, exhausted and scared.
There was no foreplay at all, no gentle prodding. The man, for lack of a better term, just stuck it into her, stabbing his penis with all his strength into her narrow lips.
“Aaaaiiiieee!” Cale screamed as she felt herself torn apart. He was so big, so brutal! “You’re tearing me apart! Stop!” She pleaded uselessly.
But he kept on pushing, and pushing, and pushing, and Veronica sobbed and shrieked helplessly from the excruciating pain, defeated and lost as he roared in victory, spewing his juices into her. He withdrew, giving her at least a moment’s respite. Her dry vaginal tunnel had been badly torn by his massive phallus, and it hurt like nothing she had ever experienced.
Then she paled as she realized that it was only the beginning of her ordeal, as she felt another cock probe her entrance. Then she found herself facing several more cocks, and Veronica realized what the men were after.
No, NOOOO! She screamed in her mind, too hoarse to shout as they stuck themselves into all her orifices. Her vagina, her mouth, even her ass. Veronica screamed and screamed in her mind, but no help was forthcoming.

Vanessa wept with fear as she felt the whips lash her across her young, nubile body. She could see the whips as they struck her, but not who the wielder was. Welts rose painfully from her skin, and the whips seemed to delight in striking the welts again and again.
The girl had shouted herself hoarse long ago, and she felt weak, helpless. She was at the mercy of her captors, and they had not done anything to her other than torture after torture.
More terrifying then the torture was the knowledge of what was to come. Vanessa remembered images of branding irons and various sharp implements, and her heart quailed at the thought of being hurt by these horrific devices.
But she knew that worse was to come, and there was nothing she could do.

“Urgh! Urgh! No! Stop!” Wonder Girl screamed impotently for her rapists to stop as they plunged themselves into her. Another monster tit-fucked her, rubbing his grotesque cock between her firm young breasts.
Her golden hair had been soiled long ago by the ejaculations of her violaters, and her body likewise, caked by globs of jism. Meanwhile, they continued to assault her naked, toned body. Blood flowed from her ruined vagina, and sweat soaked her struggling body.
Cassie sobbed at her fate. All her powers, all her training, and she was unable to defend her own sexual purity. Her virginity was lost, just like that. How was she ever going to measure up to Diana, Wonder Woman, if she couldn’t even protect herself?
They pounded into her relentlessly, and even her super-strength proved to be no match for the monsters. Wonder Girl shrieked as they entered her again and again, their cocks thrusting agonizingly into her ravaged vagina.

“Hehehehe!” Doctor Psycho clapped his hands as he observed the writhing females on the floor, all trapped in his macabre orchestra of terror and humiliation. It was not easy trying to dream up of suitable settings for them, but he had tried his best.
He did not waste much time on young Vanessa, Cassie, and the bitch Cale, throwing them into painful situations. Then, he would break them, and when he sensed they were ready, he would force them into subservience to him, breaking their minds and rewiring their very psyches into slavish submission.
Wonder Woman was different. Psycho intended to take his time destroying her. Her defeat and submission would be the culmination of his greatest victory, and her televised rape would be the terrorists’ statement to the world that even the most powerful females were helpless against them.
Around him, the mujahideen stared at the beautiful females, all of them drooling. Psycho had promised the most senior amongst them first crack at his slaves once he had broken them, and they were all waiting eagerly. Wouldn’t be long now.

In his godly realm, Ares glanced up from his careful study of Clausewitz’s On War, where he was reading and taking notes. Something is very wrong.
Unable to shake off the sensation of dread he felt, and unable to concentrate on the book, which was proving to be very heavy stuff, Ares summoned up his scrying bowl. “Show me.” He commanded the bowl.
The very first image the God of War saw was that of Wonder Girl clutching herself in pain on a floor, watched over by a sneering Doctor Psycho.

“Wild Hunter here. In position.” That was Gawain on Phillip’s headset, acting as their lookout and covering sniper with his AWP, perched on one of the tallest buildings in the neighborhood. Phillip nodded to himself, and clicked his tongue twice in acknowledgement.
All three of them were using an expensive communications system Gawain had bought and Jake had stowed away in his basement, which served as Gawain’s base and home for when he wasn’t out on contract. Their faces were hidden by standard issue black masks, clad in standard black combat uniforms. It was clichéd as hell, but ordinary was good. They didn’t need to stand out.
“This is Papa Bear. Ready for action.” Phillip clicked his tongue twice again. Jake would be their close assault component on the ground, while Phillip would be the swingman, as he was the only one fast and skilled enough for both roles. Jake had admitted he was out of shape, but on the ground, in the low and slug it out grind style of combat, Jake’s size and intimidation factor were going to be useful. Phillip grimaced whenever he thought of the post-battle problems. Like, how many 8 feet tall giants were there in New York?
The plan was simple. Get the terrorists and the assassins, who had suddenly gone berserk, shooting anyone and everyone on the street. Neutralize or kill them, it didn’t matter. But in the process, Phillip wanted a few terrorists alive for interrogation.
The evening had been crazy. A series of explosions had rocked more than thirty police stations, hospitals, and fire departments across the city. Then word came that several high priced apartments in the Upper East Side had undergone similar attacks, and that Veronica’s apartment had been one of them. Several embassies had also been struck, and one of them had been the Themysciran embassy. Phillip had deduced that the terrorists had taken Veronica, and that added urgency to their mission.
Even worse, Wonder Woman was nowhere to be found.
The rest of the Justice League was off in space on some emergency, the Teen Titans were incommunicado, and that meant New York had no superheroes left to clean up the mess.
If superheroes could even put a dent into the chaos that was New York right now. The National Guard was being mobilized, but for the time being, it was sheer madness.
Snipers were seemingly everywhere, picking off civilian workers as they tried to help their fellow citizens. Terrorists rampaged across Brooklyn, sparring with desperate mob troopers, who seemed to be the good guys for once as they sought to limit the damage and protect the rescue services rushing about the area. It was a total warzone.
Three of us against god knows how many terrorist and assassin fucks, Phillip allowed a slight grin to come over his mouth as he prepared to advance into Brooklyn. The odds seem just about right for us.
He closed his eyes, centering himself and forcing away the distracting thoughts of Veronica Cale and Wonder Woman in trouble. He could not afford to be at anything less than hundred percent focused.
Moments later, he opened his eyes, and spoke into the microphone at his chin, “Move out.” Anybody looking at him would have been chilled by his cold, emotionless, perhaps even sleepy, eyes.
The eyes of a killer.

Gawain snapped off a shot at an assassin 1500 metes away, the specialized round from the AWP easily tearing off the enemy sniper’s head in a spray of blood and gore.
He quickly crouched down after the shot, as a flurry of rounds flew overhead. There were a goddamned lot of snipers around, and it was a crazy free-for-all with them shooting at each other as well as at the civilians. And at him too.
Gawain scrabbled along the tiled floor of the building’s rooftop as he repositioned himself, getting himself into a relatively safe position for another shot to support Jake and Phillip or Tom or whatever he was calling himself these days.
He peeked up cautiously from his new spot, then moved his rifle into position. He could see a lot of the action from here, and he wasn’t going to shoot unless absolutely necessary.
Jake was somewhere in the buildings about four hundred meters to the northwest, while Phillip was seven hundred meters away to the north. The two men had managed to interrogate several terrorists so far, though none of the terrorists had the relevant information.
It was frustrating.
Other than that, they were wiping out the scumbags terrorizing the city. Gawain scratched a mark on the stock of his AWP every time he got a confirmed kill, and there were now more than twenty marks on the stock after an hour of hard fighting.
Then it all changed. The snipers ganged up.
All of a sudden, Gawain found himself under intense attack. He was forced to pull back a shot as no less than four enemy snipers ranged in on him, their bullets snapping off the ledge of the wall that stayed between his body and their guns.
He crouched in place, waiting for the fire to subside, but if anything, it got worse. After that, things started getting out of hand.
A pencil thin laser beam punched through the wall right next to his nose. Gawain stared at the hole disbelievingly for a moment before he started crawling on his hands and butt backwards, the sniping laser cutting nice, neat, round holes in the wall as it followed his path. Which of these bozos got their hand on B13 tech?
“This is Wild Hunter! I’m in trouble!” He barked into the comms just before a massive explosion erupted in the spot he had been, throwing him backwards even further. Gawain paled. That was a plasma cannon!
“Fuck! I’m outgunned, outnumbered, and outteched! I need some bloody support!” He looked at the angle of the laser beams, and made a quick estimate. Gawain swung his rifle up and over the ledge, zooming in on a moving sniper cradling what seemed to be a high tech weapon, and he squeezed off a shot that missed. The enemy snipers fired back, and Gawain scrambled away down in time to avoid having his head taken off.
Jake answered coolly, “I thought you’ll be used to it by now. When did we ever have favorable odds?” There was the interruption of more gunfire before Jake came back on. “These guys are persistent, and I’m pinned down right now. Too many customers overhead. 91?”
To their relief, Phillip replied, “I’m on it. Sit tight.”

Wonder Woman awoke to find herself chained yet again, this time to a stone table in a dark stone room, her limbs held by chains to each corner of the huge table. “You cannot hold me!” She roared as she strained her arms against the chains, but this time they held fast.
“Wrong.” The huge man who had beaten her leaned over her prone body, his hot, putrid breath washing over her face. Diana gritted her teeth, and pulled at her chains again. They did not give at all. The overtly sexual position of her body sent a tingle of fear through the Princess, leaving her with a sense of impending doom.
She gritted her teeth, and snarled, “By Hera! Whoever you are, you’ll pay for this once I get free! Don’t think you’ll hold me for long, you miserable…”
“SILENCE!” The man followed up with a powerful blow right into her firm stomach, drawing out a gasp of pain from the chained Amazon. He whispered to her, “You will learn obedience, slave.”
“Never,” Wonder Woman spat at him. He wiped off the spittle on his face, and Diana stiffened her warrior’s heart at his expression, which promised incredible pain for her.
“Then you will suffer.” He reached for her costume, and pulled off her golden breastplate, then her red armor suit, exposing her large, perfectly formed breasts. They were large, incredibly sexy, ivory mounds of flesh. “Such delightful treasures your body has,” he grinned maliciously, “With me free to plunder them,” and sent two massive punches into her breasts with incredible force.
Diana shrieked in pain, and then again as he took her nipples, twisting them cruelly. “Come on, Wonder Whore, punish me if you can! Or is it just more hot air from a bitch like you? I can do whatever I want to you right now, and you’re in my power, my little plaything. Accept it or be prepared to face the consequences!”
“Never!” Diana screamed back as he continued to abuse her beautiful chest, fighting back tears at the thought of a villain manipulating her divine, blessed body.
The agony continued for several more minutes, and Diana, as much as she tried to control the body and her pain, found her discipline giving way ever so slowly to the pain. She choked back a shriek of pain as he suddenly switched patterns, stabbing a finger at her crotch, pushing in her blue star spangled pants in between her nether lips. “Did you like that, bitch?”
She stared at him with silent hatred.
He tore away her shorts, leaving her with only her boots, her bracelets, her golden belt, and her tiara, the symbol of her royal post as princess of the Amazons. She felt cold, but she focused on maintaining control over her facial expressions and her body, unwilling to give her captor any sense of satisfaction.
The man took off his own pants, and clambered onto the table, his intentions clear. Wonder Woman broke into another bout of furious struggling, but she just could not break free. She decided to conserve her strength for the real ordeal ahead. Hera, grant me strength.
The man used his fingers to again, this time flicking her clitoris. Diana kept a calm façade, trying to sever the sensation from her mind, knowing that he was watching her intently for any sign of her discomfort.
“You seem very relaxed about this,” the man said, as he tried to elicit some form of reaction from her. “But you know what? I don’t care!”
And with that, he raked his nails down over her clit and over both her thighs, and then slammed one knee with bone crushing strength into her mound. Diana shrieked in pain. She thought she had been prepared, but she was wrong. So wrong. It hurt so much!
“Take this, bitch!” The man exclaimed in victory as he straddled himself over her shaking body, his erect tool drilling inside her with one powerful, cruel thrust, and almost immediately coming up against her intact hymen.
“Bastard! No!” Wonder Woman threw her head from side to side, squeezing her thigh and ass muscles in a desperate attempt to keep him out and preserve her sexual purity. “I will not let you win!”
The man grunted as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, working his way slowly but surely into her, millimeter by millimeter. Diana gritted her teeth, focusing herself to stay tight, closed. She was the champion of all women, the champion of Themyscira, the premier superheroine in the world. She would not lose this battle!
Bit by bit, he advanced, his massive girth rubbing painfully against her dry canal, until he finally touched her hymen. A sneer came over his face. “I’ll win, bitch, and you’re nothing.” Then he surged forward, and Diana remembered with a sinking feeling that he had superstrength, and the realization that he had been holding back on her was a savage twist to her gut. He was just toying with her. She never had a chance.
“Arghhh!” There was a sharp, stabbing pain, and then Wonder Woman realized she had lost. He eyes were rimmed with tears at her degradation, but she swore to herself she would not break, she would not give in. It hurt incredibly, but she walled off the pain, her indomitable willpower loath to concede defeat to scum like him.
The man continued to saw himself in and out of her, bringing himself off even if she wasn’t going to. He punched her several times, and then he would knead her breasts painfully. And sometimes, he would rake his nails over her body, tearing away parts of her silky skin. Blood flowed from her vagina, both from the loss of her virginity and the damage being done to her inner walls.
But Wonder Woman still would not submit. She breathed heavily, her heaving chest and the pain in her eyes the only signs of her severe distress as he ravaged her.

“Stubborn bitch!” Psycho yelled to nobody in particular. He glared at the prostrate form of the Amazon Princess. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it!”
In the crevices of her mind, he had all the time in the world to break her.

Artemis swore as two terrorists shot at her. She was pinned down by their fire, while she was sure another two attackers were approaching from one flank. She was in a tight spot, and she could not see any way out of the fix.
In the ruins of a burning building, she waited nervously for a grenade to come sailing in above her and herald her doom.
Then the gunfire stopped.
Artemis peeked out, to see a huge man standing over the two terrorist who had pinned her down. One was in a chokehold, while the other had his brain matter splattered all over the pavement.
She saw the two flankers moving back, and that the figure could not see them. They were already very near to the man, with only a thin wall separating them. Artemis hurriedly fired off two arrows, both of which hit their targets.
The giant glanced up, startled as her arrows flew almost next to him, then thudding dully against the terrorists. He looked at her, his face hidden by the black mask he wore, and raised his hand in a short salute to her. He held a huge gun in one hand, and seemed like he knew how to use it. Artemis trusted her instincts, which told her he was an ally.
She smiled back at him, and she was preparing to make her away across the street to join him when several snipers on the roof started firing at them. She backflipped into cover, the bullets narrowly missing her by inches.
The two warriors went their separate ways.

Jake just could not wipe the smile off his face after he had seen the female archer. With just that short glimpse, he had recognized in her a kindred spirit, a brave and courageous warrior. It didn’t hurt that she was a gorgeous redhead. It was just too bad they had split up from the sniper fire. He would have loved to learn her name.
He leaned around a corner, his M-60 held at the ready. The last terrorist he had interrogated didn’t know anything much, and he was beginning to suspect that the people Phillip was seeking had been smart enough to avoid any direct trails back to them.
Which made finding them damn near impossible, unless a miracle or some divine intervention happened.

Phillip cursed again, as the terrified terrorist under his knife swore that he didn’t know anything other than the location of his cell and his immediate cell leader’s identity, things which he and Jake had already scoped out.
He cut the man’s throat anyway, and fired two bullets into the corpse’s head as insurance. He walked cautiously out of the building, and then hugged the wall with his MP-5 aimed at the rooftops of the opposite buildings. On his back was the laser rifle which had given Gawain so much trouble. Phillip had used it once or twice since he had acquired the weapon, with very satisfactory results.
The fighting had not subsided, and if anything, was raging even more furiously, with more jihadists coming in from god knows where. And he did not know why, but there was a sense of urgency, compelling him to find Veronica, and soon.
Sometimes, he hated his instincts.
Phillip checked his location. He was in the middle of Queens, where the fighting had spilled over. He did not know why, but his instincts were pulling him north.
Phillip! There was suddenly a voice in his head, and the killer winced slightly at the mental intrusion. This is Morgan Carter! I’m in a chopper about a kilometer south of Brooklyn, and a damn sniper just took out our engine.
Morgan? What the hell are you doing here? Phillip had submitted a short briefing as well as a report of his actions to the small database Ares had set up for his highest ranking minions, but he had not expected the God of War or the others to actually involve themselves. Certainly not Lord Conquest.
Ares sent me. I managed to round up a platoon of Delta Force troopers, but we’re just too far from our objective, so I’m calling you in. Not for the first time, Phillip was grateful for the spell Ares had placed which enabled them to speak to each other telepathically when in close enough proximity. Of all things, it allowed them to talk shop during meetings when Ares was on one of his long how-to-conquer-the-world rants.
Well, I’m a bit busy right now too, Phillip snapped off several shots with the MP-5, dropping a terrorist who was trying to lob grenades into several windows. What’s up?
Our boss wants us to rescue Wonder Girl. She’s in the Bronx, in the hands of some pervert named Doc Psycho. I have some info on this guy, and it’s not pretty. He’s a real SOB, got a grudge against women, and some weird mind tricks. Don’t ask me why, you can ask Ares himself after this mess is over.
The pieces all fell into place at that moment for Phillip. Okay, Morgan. I’ve got friendlies in Brooklyn, and a whole lot of assassins and terrorists for you and your boys to mop up. I’ll give you a frequency and a decoding channel in a while, but gimme the bastard’s address first.
Phillip noted the address given, then gave Morgan the frequency channel for the comms system his small group was using.
He looked around for a bike, and found a serviceable Honda. Some quick rewiring started the motorcycle, and he headed off to the Bronx at top speed. Hold on, girls, hold on.

Morgan Carter, Lord Conquest, was a highly decorated general in the US military. More than that, he had a past many did not know about, and the one reason why Ares had selected him.
He was an activated metahuman, one with enhanced strength, reflexes, and speed. About twenty five years ago, the department of defense had asked for volunteers for an experimental super soldier program, and Morgan, a black recruit, had been the sole survivor amongst several thousands.
If he had been a white man, he would have been Captain America. Instead, the military packed him off quietly to a spec ops unit.
Morgan was not bitter though, and he served his country proudly through a multitude of clandestine and highly difficult covert operation missions in Southeast Asia, Korea, and the Middle East, rising through the ranks not just by relying on his metahuman abilities but also by learning and listening as much as possible, earning the firm respect of his troops and the grudging admiration of his superiors. He had been a ‘mustang’, an NCO who became an officer with hard work and buckets of guts.
When he had finally obtained his generalship, it had been the proudest day in his life. He had earned the position by dint of his intellectual abilities and his ability to organize men for greatest efficiency in combat, not because he was stronger or faster than others, traits useful only at the tactical level, but useless at the operational and strategic levels, where management and planning was paramount.
Several days later, he lost his wife and his youngest daughter when they were in the World Trade Center during 9/11. Ares approached him then, promising him a world of liberty free from terrorism after Morgan assisted him in becoming King of Olympus. As a High God, Ares would have the power to do that.
So Morgan took the oath to serve the God of War, and he had never looked back since. He was still a patriot, still a soldier, still a devoted father to his remaining daughter. But he would never rest easy until the terrorists and the death creed responsible for the death of his wife and daughter were dead and buried.
He fired off a flare into the night sky, while the Delta Force soldiers fanned out around him, their guns at the ready. From Wild Hunter’s succinct report, Morgan knew Brooklyn was infested with jihadists. That was fine by him. He intended to hunt down each and every one of them. Saves us the trouble of rooting them out in Afghanistan and Iraq.
“Move out,” he ordered his men.

Wonder Woman did not know when she had fallen unconscious, but when she awoke, she found herself clad in her costume again, shackled to some strange device. She was upright, but as she tried to move her limbs, she found them immobilized yet again. She tried to fly, but the object she was shackled to was firmly rooted to the ground. Escape was again impossible.
The man appeared before her, and he smiled. “Wakey, wakey, bitch.”
“What do you want this time?” Diana snarled.
“Your submission. One way or the other.” He gestured, and Diana felt the device behind her start to move.
With a sense of shock, she realized it was a stretching rack!
Wonder Woman struggled with every bit of strength she had, but her arms and legs just continuing in opposite directions. Against her own wishes, she began to panic when she realized her best efforts were scarcely slowing the machine. Within moments, she began to feel pain in her joints, and the pain grew quickly. Diana began to feel tears welling up in her steely blue eyes as she realized the helplessness of her position.
As the machine continued to stretch her, the pain became so great that the Amazon, despite her formidable willpower, finally could not hold in the agony anymore. She began to whimper softly, “Hera, please stop! Oh, it hurts so much! No, I can’t take it anymore!”
The man smiled as he stood next to her, “So, little whore, how do you feel now?” He grinned as the rack moved again, stretching her further.
Diana thought that her pain had already reached its limits, but she was wrong. Her whimpers quickly grew in volume as the pain increased, until she was soon shrieking in inarticulate torment.
The Amazon Princess struggled against the deadly rack with every bit of power she could muster, but to no avail. Her mighty muscles flexed, straining to free her, yet as powerful as they were, they were simply not up to the task.
But her torment was just beginning. Diana felt a sensation between her legs, and she managed to glimpse something below her. Something metallic. The man bowed to her theatrically, and a mirror was suddenly produced. Diana stared on in horror as she spied a long metallic spiked dildo between her legs, thrusting up against her womanhood.
It was a cruel, hateful instrument, narrow at the point to fit into her vagina but quickly broadening into a staggering 6 inches in diameter, enough to literally tear her apart. A series of gears powered the mechanical dildo, enabling it to push up into her even as her body was stretched on the rack.
The rack subsided for a while, relaxing just a tiny bit to allow her to reply as the man asked her again, “Do you submit, Amazon whore?”
Diana sobbed, her tears finally falling as she realized that the torment would continue until she gave in. She summoned up the last vestiges of her pride and courage, and she forced herself to look the man squarely in the eyes as she replied past the pain, “No.”
“Oh well, here we go again.” The rack started to stretch her again, and Diana screeched in agony as she felt the dildo start to enter her. Her vagina expanded rapidly as the dildo pushed into her, and Wonder Woman’s screams soon started taking on new urgency as she was being stretched not just on the rack, but internally as well. The dildo stretched her canal to proportions that even women undergoing childbirth would never endure. It pushed itself and deeper into her, all the way into her inner organs, more than 10 inches into her body.
It was pain as Wonder Woman had never felt it before. Throughout her body, on the outside, on the inside, everything about her was pain. Her fading willpower tried to hold onto her pride and heritage, but it was being worn down rapidly by the agony she was undergoing.
As she sobbed and screamed for help, none of which was forthcoming, Wonder Woman knew that she would have no choice but to submit, if not in the next few moments, but eventually.
She had finally been broken.

Doctor Psycho laughed as all four women started screaming in front of him as he played out their worst nightmares. Victory was going to be his!
Then he heard the sound of gunfire from the levels below him.

Phillip did not waste any time, storming the place with his MP-5 blazing. He threw himself past the door, shooting surprised mujahideen as they scrambled for their weapons.
He rampaged through the unprepared men with gun and blade, using a short sword scooped up from a dead terrorist. The mujahideen bent under the ferocity of his attack, then broke as they decided that retreat was a better proposition than facing the masked man who promised death with his eyes.
Phillip charged up the stairs, killing more mujahideen as he did so. One level after the other he climbed, his MP-5 finally running out of ammo. He switched to his trusty Berretta, snapping off shots at the remaining terrorists.
Then he found himself entering a room with the four abducted women on the floor, screaming and writhing desperately, with a wild haired, wild eyed dwarf laughing madly.
Phillip raised his gun to shoot the dwarf, but the man turned to look at him, and suddenly, Phillip had the sensation of his mind coming under assault.
Don’t they ever learn? The killer smiled mirthlessly as he allowed Doctor Psycho full access to his mind. Including all the death, the pain, and the rage. What he had done, what had been done to him, what he had prayed he would not do, but did anyway.
The telepathic villain smiled for just a slightest instant before his expression turned into one of sheer fear and horror. Then he started to twitch, and fell to the floor. Doctor Psycho started shivering, foam coming out of his mouth as he curled himself up into a ball from Phillip‘s memories. Serves you right, motherfucker. My memories are not for the faint of heart. You’re welcome to choke on them.
A gunshot snapped Phillip out of his daze. He ducked in time to avoid being hit. The two mujahideen fired at him, and he flung himself back to avoid their fire. Phillip fired back, getting one of them, but his Beretta’s breech snapped empty. He had to reload before taking the other man, who had disappeared into another room.
He looked at the women, and realized that while their faces were still full of horror, they were no longer screaming. Then he noticed that Veronica Cale was missing. There were only three women present. Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl, and Vanessa Kapatelis.
The mujahideen! He has Veronica! Phillip raced after the man into the next room, only to find it empty. He spied another set of stairs, and he could hear the man walking upwards.
Phillip followed the man to the roof with a growing sense of dread. He left the staircase to see the mujahideen already standing on top of an old and abandoned structure on the roof that once probably held some form of a heating unit.
The man was holding Veronica Cale at an angle, and she was awake, her eyes full of fear. Her feet were on the structure, but the rest of her body was tilted away from the building in empty air, her mouth in the left hand of the mujahideen. If the mujahideen released his grip, she would fall to the ground.
“Let her go!” Phillip yelled as he raised his Berretta at the terrorist.
“It was such a perfect plan,” the man hissed, “How did you know where to find us?”
“Divine intervention!” Phillip answered back. Don’t you dare drop her, you bastard.
“Infidel nonsense!” The man roared. “Fine then! If you will not tell me, at least I will have the pleasure of killing this woman!” He released his grip on Veronica’s mouth.
“Damn you!” Phillip raced forward, his Berretta barking, once, twice, killing the mujahideen.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Veronica’s scream of sheer terror as she started to drop and accelerate to the ground below, his own dull sounding gunshots as he fired at the windows of the old heating room, breaking them and sending pieces of shattered glass to the ground. His feet, pounding painfully into the ground as he pushed himself to his limits.
Then he was in the heating room, with only the shattered windows separating him and the falling woman, who was falling faster and faster. Phillip realized he was yelling as he threw himself out of the window, his hands reaching out for the fainted Veronica, grabbing her around the waist just as he thought he was too late, too slow.
He would have fallen with her, but Phillip managed to snag the window ledge with one foot. Supported by his right foot, the two of them swung down and hit the wall painfully, with Phillip taking the brunt of the impact.
Everything shifted back to normal time at that instant. The first thing he was aware of was the excruciating pain in his right foot, which was being cut to shreds by the remaining shattered glass along the window ledge. He ignored the pain. He had to hold on, or both of them would die.
The second thing was the unconscious woman in his arms. She seemed to regain consciousness for a moment, but she took one look at the street below, and promptly fainted again.
Phillip managed to free one hand, and used the Berretta to shoot open the windows on the next lower level. Thankfully, the windows were big and tall enough that he was able to get Veronica, then himself through.
He was reloading his gun when he heard a growling sound, and the door to the room was suddenly smashed open, revealing a hulking monster of a man.
Phillip raised his Berretta, firing off several shots at the man, but the bullets simply bounced off. A meta. Damn.
He continued firing, aiming for the eyes, the meta raising his hands to shield his eyes from the bullets. Then Phillip ran out of bullets. The meta started walking slowly towards him, and the killer raised his short sword, prepared for a fight to the death.

Diana awoke to the sound of gunfire. She groaned as she pushed herself upright. The nightmare had been so real.
And then she saw Doctor Psycho, foaming at the mouth and a puddle of saliva as he muttered, “No, please, God, no. It hurts, hurts!”
What’s going on? Diana could probably understand what had happened to her after the embassy, the torture in her mind Psycho had put her through, but who or what had done this to Psycho himself, breaking his hold over them?
She was about to stir Cassie and Vanessa when there was a long report of gunfire from above their level. Diana made her choice, and raced up the stairs.
Wonder Woman came across one of the metas who had attacked her advancing on a black masked man with a sword standing protectively over Veronica Cale. She did not even need to make a decision.
One blow sent the meta flying into the sky vertically upwards, and Diana was ready for the meta as he came down again. Diana allowed the pain and humiliation she had suffered at Psycho’s hands to fuel her rage as she hammered the metahuman relentlessly.
After just ten blows, she realized the meta was slowly… dissolving, for lack of a better word. Then another, almost identical meta appeared, and she beat it into the ground as well. It started dissolving soon after.
Clones, the Amazon realized. These were metapowered clones. And overexertion will cause deterioration in their genetic structure.
She turned to look for the masked man, but he was gone, leaving only a groggy Veronica Cale slowly coming to.

Gawain Sharpe winced as Morgan Carter wrapped a roll of bandage around his injured left arm. With the aid of the Delta Force troopers, the battle was finally over. But because their involvement was unauthorized, Morgan and his boys were now hiding out at Jake’s café to bind their wounds before they would try sneaking back to base. Morgan would have to explain the chopper loss on his own.
The general remarked to Gawain, “Pretty good shooting back there, trooper. Which military taught you all that?”
The bounty hunter grinned, “Nowhere you know.”
“Coffee, anybody?” Jake showed up with several jugs of his brew, which the troopers accepted gratefully.
“Well,” Morgan said, “I don’t know how the hell you knew the mysterious and deadly Phillip Delacroix, or how you guys are such good troopers I’m considering drafting you into the spec ops, but for what it’s worth, I’m damn glad you’re on my side.” He raised his coffee cup, “A toast to Gawain Sharpe and Jake Kabrinski!”
A corporal jibed, “With these coffee cups, sir?” He held up his cup, a flowery pottery type which seemed out of place amongst the hard bitten men in the café.
“Hey, who cares?” Jake said as he laughed and raised his own cup, which looked awfully delicate in his huge hands, “To Morgan Carter and Delta Force!”
The soldiers laughed as they toasted and cheered their victory in the café.

Phillip limped slowly into his home, wincing at the wound in his foot. He headed straight for the toilet to relieve himself and to get bandages for the wound.
As he treated himself, he thought, I don’t know why Ares was so insistent that we rescue Wonder Girl, but I’m not going to complain.
So many secrets. So little he knew. Why did Psycho pick out Veronica? What was he after? Who was sponsoring him and those terrorists? Why was Ares involved?
Phillip closed his eyes tiredly. I’d think about all this… tomorrow.
He slumped in his chair into a fitful sleep, full of the nightmares and memories that had incapacitated Doctor Psycho.

“Wonder Woman, thank you for your help.” Veronica Cale said with no small amount of sincerity as they watched Doctor Psycho being carted off on a stretcher. The doctor had lapsed into a coma, but Diana did not feel much sympathy for him. Neither did Cale.
The Amazon looked at her young friends, both pale and brittle from the horrors they had endured. They lowered their eyes, unwilling to meet Diana’s level gaze. She could sense that they felt they had failed her in some way.
“Cassie, Vanessa, you did not fail. He used our worst fears against us, and even I nearly broke.” Diana’s voice caught a bit, and she could see that even Veronica was surprised at her admission of weakness. “But we have persevered, and endured. It’s not in falling that we lose. It’s in not getting up after we fall that we truly accept defeat.”
Cassie and Vanessa looked back up at her words, and Diana enfolded both of them in a hug, as the girls finally started crying in her arms. Sharing their pain would make it easier to bear. Diana looked over the shoulders of her sobbing protégés at Cale, imploring the other woman silently with her eyes. Sister, you are welcome to join us. Please.
Veronica looked at her sadly, and shook her head. Diana could only stare after the businesswoman as Veronica Cale walked away into the night.

And another chapter is churned out. Hah! My word production is up to almost a staggering 4000 words per day!
I’m going back to my ‘other fic’ now, but worry not! The next arc is already planned out! Ad it involves…
*drum roll*
Angle Man!!!
As always, reviews are very much welcome! Please, please, please review!!!
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The Games that Gods Play