Wonder Woman was created by Dr William Moulton Marston in 1941 and is the © copyright trademark of DC Comics. My Wonder Woman stories are only fan fiction and based, primarily, on the 1970s CBS TV show (albeit, updated to the present time of writing). However, any resources from adaptations and the comics may be utilised. All characters are entirely fictional. With the exception of Diana / Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor, these stories and characters are my own creations, unless otherwise stated. In my stories Wonder Woman is the only known superhero.
02 Total White Out
The alarm rang throughout Palmer Station. Between buildings, personnel informed one another of the need to locate Jo Brown. For his part, the Head of Security grabbed his gun holster belt and attempted to fasten it securely around his stodgy waist.
“I assume you’re armed, Prince?” he said.
“No, I usually have no need to be.”
“WHAT?” he snapped, “GOD, DAMN IT, this is what’s wrong with our security agencies, now days.”
“Okay, stick close to me and you’ll be fine,” but by the time Pattison had finished preparing for the next world war, Agent Prince had slipped away.
A minute later, Diana boarded the Twin Otter and checked the length of the aircraft for Marsha. The wafting of cigarette smoke rising from the cockpit was a sure sign of Denton aboard.
“Where is she?” Diana firmly asked him.
“Lost ye buddy, sweetheart?” said Denton, sitting with crossed legs stretched out over the console.
“Time to drop the act, Tex,” demanded Diana, “I have it on good authority that it was you who flew Jo Brown to Antarctica.”
“So what?” he dryly replied, “Passengers are my bread and butter, honey.”
“She’s a wanted felon,” informed Diana, on her way out.
“HEY, PRINCE, I’LL TELL YOU THIS,” he shouted, “SHE WAS A LOT MORE FUN THAN YOU!”
As soon as Diana was out of sight, Texas undid the mooring lines and closed himself inside. He went to the storage room, at the rear of the plane, and opened a bottom cupboard, stamping his foot on the interior, which sprang an adjacent false wall open.
From the space of a narrow closet, emerged Marsha Cross in a polar white cat suit with a matching pearly bright belt and boots. She claimed the garment’s clingy stretched fibre, wrapped around her curvaceous figure, served as an insulator against the cold, but this couldn’t explain the low slung v-top exposing the rich chocolate skin of her bulging cleavage. For above all else, Marsha knew seducing a man’s natural weakness was her most powerful weapon.
Marsha’s latest testosterone-fuelled dope started the engine of the Twin Otter. The machine’s two noisy winged propellers thunderously spun.
Denton turned the seaplane out towards the bay, “We’re on our way, sweetheart.”
“With Diana Prince around, I won’t be happy until we’re in the sky and out of here,” cautioned Marsha.
“Relax, she hasn’t got wings.”
“That’s what bothers me, man,” admitted Marsha, “Prince trusted you to take her, alone, all the way to Antarctica. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t get her star spangled team-mate, Wonder Woman, to trail you.”
The Twin Otter lapped over the waves, making a run for take off. Gathering speed, the seaplane lifted towards the sky, as Wonder Woman’s luminous golden lasso lopped onto the tail wing. The lasso tugged tight around it. From the shore, Wonder Woman held her lasso firm against the craft’s considerable thrust . The plane stalled, ten feet in the air, and dropped back down into the ocean with an almighty splash.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” cried Denton.
After the seaplane stabilised on the water, Wonder Woman began hauling the Twin Otter back to the dock, as if it were a toy vessel being pulled by string on a lake.
“I KNEW IT!” snapped Marsha, waspishly, “TIS WONDER WOMAN!”
Taking out his revolver from under the pilot’s console, Texas aimed the gun out of the side window.
“Tis no use – don’t you know the bitch is bullet proof?” Marsha informed.
“I’m not aiming for her,” Denton revealed, “I’m aiming at her line.”
He fired a shot at the taut lasso. Although on target, a puff of smoke later, the lasso was unaffected. Surprised, Denton fired again, with matching results, conceding defeat in puzzlement.
Once hauled into the dock, Marsha and Texas decided on the easy option, dropping down the hatch ladders and presenting themselves as captives to Wonder Woman. The gathered Palmer Station personnel were ready and waiting to escort them away.
“If you’re going to get beaten, get beaten in style – that’s real something, honey,” praised Texas.
“Yeah, Impressive,” agreed Marsha in a sarcastic tone.
“Haven’t you heard the latest weather forecast, Marsha?” Wonder Woman said with a wee smile, “It’s going to be stormy.”
Although Wonder Woman wanted to interrogate the detainees, the Head of Security took them into custody. In any case, she needed to revert to Diana Prince as soon as she could.
Darkness fell quickly on the Antarctic Peninsula that evening. Penetrating easterly gusts chilled to the bones and threw snow, crazily, scattering heaps up against anything it couldn’t completely cover. Connecting between the buildings, dim overhead cabled lights fluttered and swayed in the storm. Plywood boards broke free and scrambled across the yard. Metal strips crackled; structures creaked and rumbled to the tune of the winds. Dogs barked; wolves howled.
Pulling up her hood, Agent Prince made her way over to Pattison’s office, from the adjacent dormitory, when a cry of a wolf stopped her in her tracks. Almost blinded by the heavy falling snow, Diana masked her face with her gloved hand, just to be able to see in front of her. She trudged closer to the pitch black kennels where the cries emanated. Behind the fence, she could make out an empty yard in front of the dens.
In the distance, Diana heard voices, in conversation, heading her way. She instinctively opened the yard gate and hid behind the fence stump. She watched two figures in torchlight go past her. They let themselves into the kennels, via a side door, and switched on the lights. The rays beamed out into the yard, between the shadows of iron bars, which secured the animals inside. Diana crouched closer to the dens and peered in. Looking up the entrance, she identified the grey, slight, frame of Gerry Goldman with the female laboratory technician who reported Laing’s death earlier. They were surrounded by huskies. To Diana’s surprise, Goldman spoke with a German accent.
“Sedate all the wolf dogs well – we don’t want to raise any unnecessary suspicions – these are high stakes we’re playing, my dear,” he said.
“Our greatest threat is Wonder Woman,” the lady stated.
“If Wonder Woman presents herself as a problem, we have the means to deal with her,” assured Goldman.
“Good,” she replied, stabbing a long eared husky, “What about Marsha Cross, the IADC agent and her pilot?”
“Ja, I admit, it would have been best if they had left together, this evening,” he answered, “But we can turn their stay to our advantage by implicating Marsha in Doctor Laing’s death. You see for every setback, there is a neat solution.”
“And if Laing wakes up?”
“You see that he doesn’t,” Goldman told her.
Diana’s presence at the den’s entrance began to attract the attention of the dogs. When a few of them put their noses through the bars, Diana knew it was time to leave.
“The dogs are distracted by something,” said the technician. “Is somebody in the yard?”
“Gah, probably rats,” dismissed Goldman.
Outside, they shone the torchlight on the yard.
“You were right, my dear,” said Goldman, “Fresh human footprints in the snow. We shall have to be careful, tonight, ja?”
In the doorway of the main complex, Diana made a call on her cell phone to Washington D.C.
“Diana, I was thinking of you?” said a sleepy Steve Trevor, “Have you located Marsha?”
“Yes, I can confirm Jo Brown is Marsha Cross, but there’s something else…”
Diana saw an approaching torchlight through the swirling snow, “Steve, I haven’t much time, I need all you can get me on Gerry Goldman, the Director of Palmer Station.”
She went through into the corridor that led to Pattison’s office. On the door duty was a hulk of a man known as Tucker. He wore a fitting brutish looking anchor beard and moustache. Ordinarily, Tucker was assigned to general maintenance, but it was easy to see why he doubled in security. Startled by his presence, Diana tapped the snow off her thermals,
She laughed, “I think it’s snowing.”
Tucker’s reaction was impassive.
“Can I go in?” Diana asked.
He tapped on the office window, to get Pattison’s attention, and pointed at Diana with his thumb.
“All right, go in – but know this, lady – you’re a long way from Washington,” he cautioned.
“I think somebody has been away from polite society, a little too long,” Diana riposted, on her way through the door.
In the confined office sat Marsha on Pattison’s seat with her legs crossed. Leon, himself, preferred leaning on the desk, clutching a lamp, running his hands through his receding silver hair. He had been attempting to break Marsha, but the opposite seemed more likely by his stressed, defeated, gaze and perspiration collecting under the armpits of his shirt.
“Gee, Diana, am I glad to see you – for once – this boring numbskull has been shining his lamp in my face for the last hour,” complained Marsha, “He thinks I’ve murdered a scientist called Laing.”
“I’m not beyond taking my belt off to you, lady,” Pattison threatened.
“Yeah, as if,” Marsha sardonically rebuffed, “Face it, man, you’re small time, in or out of your pants!”
Pattison grimaced; about take a swing at his suspect when Diana took him by the arm.
“Ignore her,” she whispered, “Let’s step outside for a second.”
On their way out, Marsha badgered, “I’m out of your league, little man!”
Alone, in the corridor, Diana explained Marsha Cross was now under the custody of the I.A.D.C and that the Dr Laing’s death needed to be established by a coroner.
“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS?” Leon barked, slamming his hand against the wall.
“I suggest we confine Marsha and Texas Denton to their dormitory. They’re stranded here, too.”
“Whatever, Prince – just keep that woman away from me – otherwise there might be another murder.”
A blast shook the building. Everyone rushed out into the blizzard to see bellowing flames on the hillside.
“It’s the Communication Center,” somebody called, “It’s gone up in smoke.”
On the first floor of the dormitory, between a myriad of descending snowflakes and ash, Diana suddenly spotted the pale complexion of the laboratory technician staring down upon her with a sly smirk.
For Part 3: Click Here