Wonder Woman in Cape Town #4

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.


04 Greeting the Great White Boer

The upturned taxicab was in danger of catching fire at any second. Both rear doors were jammed, but Diana’s nearside window was open. Kneeling on the ceiling, she slid herself, legs first, through the open window.

Standing behind the vehicle in front of an empty green field, Diana wasted no time. She flung her arms around into a spin at gliding speed, triggering a flash of energy, transforming her into Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman clutched the handle of the driver’s door and ripped it off its hinges. Bending over into the cab. she undid Themba’s seatbelt, then hauled him into her arms. Carrying the concussed driver, she ran a safe distance away across the field. Themba was just awakening when his taxicab blew. A black, dirty, smoke plumed into the air from the blazing vehicle.

Themba hardly noticed; the young man looked upon Wonder Woman’s deep, fluorescent, blue eyes in dazed captivation. He had been taken by Diana’s charms, incognito, however, to be saved by Wonder Woman was a truly a divine experience.

Diana happily reassured, “Oh, well, at least you haven’t got far to go to hospital.”

Around the bend of the carriageway, a silver Ford Focus had also pulled up on the hard shoulder, in which Texas Denton stepped out.

For Denton, something never did quite add up about Diana Prince. This time, his curiosity had got the better of him, but he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out exactly what.

Having received the hire car keys and a gun, in the white shoe box, at the hospital, he waited in the Ford for Diana to leave in the cab. Witnessing the crash first hand, Denton parked as soon as he could. Knowing the crash was no accident, he scurried with some caution along the fields to help. As he came close to the upturned vehicle, he saw a figure emerging out of the cab and took refuge behind shrubbery. When Denton identified Diana, he was about to call out to her, but was left dumbfounded by what he witnessed.

“I’ll be damned,” Tex said to himself, “Diana Prince is Wonder Woman – now that makes sense…”


Inside her hotel, Diana relaxed in a seat with a sip of mineral water, when her phone beeped a familiar tune.

“Hi Diana,” Steve Trevor answered, “What’s the weather like in sunny Cape Town?”

“A little hotter than I would like – just now – but bearable, Steve. I expect it’s raining where you are and everybody’s indoors?”

“Spot on,” said Steve, acknowledging the coded conversation, “In fact, I heard an old Japanese boyfriend of Marsha’s is expecting Texas to be as hot as it gets.”

“That’s an intriguing forecast, Steve, and shows just what a small world it can be, sometimes.”

“Well, you’re not wrong, there, Diana.”

Diana clocked Texas Denton entering the foyer.

“Speak to you soon, Steve, Texas isn’t so far away…”

Denton went to the reception desk. Diana had him called over to where she was sitting, and the usher gave her an envelope.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again, quite so soon, Tex.”

“Yeah, well, I hate leaving on bad terms. Besides, I might think you’re a real petty stickler for the law – who duped me into risking my life for nothing – but I’m beginning to realize there’s another side to you, worth me getting to know.”

“You’re all charm, Tex,” Diana distantly replied, opening the envelope.

She read out loud, “Dear Miss Prinsloo, you are invited to a FRSA charity function at FRSA Stables, this evening, at eighteen hundred hours. Hosting will be our leader Marat Osinov. As a dedicated philanthropist of animal welfare, Mr Osinov is keen to learn more of the Wild African Protection Agency. We apologise for the short notice – we have only recently learned of your arrival in town. We very much hope you can make it and look forward to meeting you. You are allowed one plus one at the event.”

Denton grinned, “It’s a set up.”

“I know, but the chance to finally meet the elusive Marat Osinov is too good to decline.”

“Are you serious? You’re going to go to that thing?”

Diana beamed, “We’re going, Tex. You’re my plus one!”


“Are you sure, you can drive with a dislocated arm, Tex?” Asked Diana, as the Ford Focus swung round the high roads of Table Mountain National Park.

“No problem, sister, you ought to see the state I’ve been in landing a plane.”

“Well, you certainly drive like you fly,” Diana returned.

“You should know, sweetheart!”

The FRSA stables formed part of a farm, owned by Marat Osinov, who lived down beneath them in a sloping villa, overlooking the coast.

They left the main drag for an unwelcoming dirt track, leading to a high cast-iron gate, closed to entry. Two FRSA uniformed guardsmen approached the vehicle from a side passage. Diana showed them her fake Wild African Protection Agency ID photocard, and they were allowed into a car park, which lay beneath the stables. The cries of elephants could be heard booming off the cliffs, which visually distressed Diana.

“We don’t have to go in, if you’re still feeling ill,” said Denton.

“That’s not like you, Tex.” She straightened his bow-tie, “Maybe the tuxedo, you wrestled yourself into, has brought out the inner gentleman?”

“No, let’s go,” he bleakly responded.

Decorative blue dress

They stepped out of the car. Diana looked spectacularly regal in her long, navy blue, velvet dress, interweaved with silver paisley patterns on the matching jacket.

The guards accompanied Diana and Tex into the villa’s reception room, where a flabby butler further inspected their credentials.

“Right, follow me,” he said, satisfied that their invitation was in order.

They were led down a spiralling stairwell. The butler pushed open some double doors and waved them into a long bright lounge with several attendants. There was a white grand piano in one corner and three matching sofas on the remaining sides. The open patio doors led out to a large balcony and swimming pool overlooking the sea.

“I suggest we mingle,” said Diana.

Denton had become quite pensive, but suddenly cocked an eager half smile, “For once, I’m in total agreement with you, Prince.”

Diana shook her head, as he made his way over to a couple of blonde beauties in risky dresses. She made her way outside to the balcony, instantly, recognising the back of a bald man.

“That’s an impressive view,” commented Diana.

“I could say the same about you,” said Dood, “Miss?”

“A very flattered Miss Diana Prinsloo of the Wild African Protection Agency.”

Ja, I’ve heard you were attending. I’m Doctor Dood, in charge of the FRSA breeding programme at the Stables – but you can call me Deidrick.”

“Somehow, Doctor Dood suits you better.”

“Either way, I am a man with a natural air of authority,” Dood boasted, “Wouldn’t you say, Magoro?”

The lieutenant-general froze where he stood at the sight of seeing Diana again.

“Hello again, General Magoro, I was only saying to a friend of mine, earlier, how small the world can look when you mix in certain circles,” teased Diana.

“You know one another?” inquired Dood.

“Yes, the good general was helping me with an investigation into a particularly cruel practice of capturing, breeding, and slaughtering elephants for their tusks.”

The corrupt police chief was about to speak when he clocked a stocky man in a safari suit listening in on the conversation, leaning against the patio doors. He stood smiling with his arms folded.

The man came forward, since he knew he had been spotted.

“Sounds like good conservation to me – plus, good business sense,” he gestured rubbing his fingers together.

Dood and Magoro, both unnaturally laughed. From their reactions, Diana knew this was somebody of real authority.

He continued, “You farm cattle for leather in your country. Why not elephants for their tusks?”

“That is different. This group illegally take wild elephants and lock them up in what they call ‘kennels’ for breeding in impoverished conditions and slaughter.”

He chuckled, “Spoken like a true Western conservationist – you must be Diana Prinsloo?”

She nodded and he took her right hand in his.

“Allow me to formally introduce myself, I am Marat Osinov, the head of FRSA. I’m also a conservationist and known to the locals as the great white boer.”

He kissed her hand, “Forgive me for playing devil’s advocate.”

Her eyes glossed over, “Forgive me, Mr Osinov, but it does seem somehow fitting.”

Diana had waited a long time to meet the presumed head of the Fourth Reich. He wasn’t what one might have expected. Wavy brown hair and matching eyes, tanned skin, and a genuinely broad smile with a playful charm. What he lacked in stature, he certainly made up for with his robust presence.

“I suspect I know what you are after. As a dedicated conservationist, I think you’d like nothing more than to see our elephants?”

With a fixed smile, Diana replied, “How right you are, Mr Osinov, but in this dress?”

“Of course, it would be a shame to ruin such a work of art.”

“My dress, Mr Osinov?”

“I meant you – not to worry, I have a viewing gallery – it’s quite comfortable.”

She took his arm. On their way back through the lounge, Diana could see the concern on Texas’ face.

“We’ll take the underpass,” Marat said.

He led Diana through a discrete door. They strolled down a familiar looking metal corridor, reminiscent of the subterranean port. As they drew closer to the elephant kennels, the cries of the elephants became deafening.

“Behind this door,” he said, “I have a big surprise for you.”

Diana looked at Osinov with cautious intrigue.

He swung open the door and sun light flooded into the corridor.

Diana glanced back and saw Osinov was now holding a handgun.

“Go on, then, Miss Diana Prince, don’t be shy!”

The game was up, as she knew it would be. Diana stepped into an outdoor arena, reminiscent of an equestrian arena. The door slammed behind her. There was a twenty-foot-high concrete wall either side. Behind Diana was a viewing gallery, built up off the wall, and in the far end, a large wooden gate.

The gate opened and an enormous grey elephant wandered into the arena.

A loud speaker crackled from a mast, above the viewing gallery. Diana looked up to see Osinov and Dood, Magoro – and even Texas Denton – standing in front of gathering guests.

“This is Grudge. He is the biggest bull we own,” Dood dutifully informed, “He’s a hell of a breeder. We keep him strong and healthy. The downside to this is his temper – he must always get the female!”

“Hahahaa! Don’t let Dood’s humour scare you, Miss Prince” Osinov added, “Grudge is here for demonstrative purposes, only. Please, meet his opponent – and yours – we call her the Lost Siren!

The recognizable red half-masked figure, in white nylon, jumped down off the elephant.

Clutching a whip, Siren began to lash the beast. Grudge never took kindly to this unprovoked assault. He threatened her with forward posturing; stamping sandy dust clouds into the air. Another crack of the whip, incited the animal to charge his abuser, just like an enraged bull in the ring.

The Lost Siren appeared to intentionally hold position until the last fraction of a second. She sidestepped the elephant’s sharp tusks. As the animal ran past, she wrapped her whip around his right hind leg. With an almighty tug, she heaved Grudge over onto his side. Before the elephant was able to get back on his feet, she slid her hands underneath him.

To Diana’s open jawed disbelief, the Lost Siren raised the elephant off the ground with her hands above her head. Serena stood in triumph, as if she were a simple weight lifter, rather than holding up an enormous live elephant, uselessly, thrashing its appendages about.

For poor Diana, an even greater shock was in store. Once again Osinov spoke through the speaker:

“I believe you two ladies have faced one another, previously. However, as you can see the Lost Siren has become considerably more empowered, since your last meeting, Wonder Woman!

For Part 5: click here


8 thoughts on “Wonder Woman in Cape Town #4

  1. First of all: thanks for sharing yor work. Then, first series of comments: very well constructed plot with some characters still with the potential to switch from one side to the other (Denton, I think he can change every two minute according to his convenience, a real mercenary) but now we are there: one to one, Wonder Woman vs The Lost Siren. And it looks like the first psychological point has not been scored by the Amazon …

  2. Brief continuation of the previous post, just to recap Wonder Woman’s situation: 1 she is alone in a nest of hornets 2 she knows that there could be some effects of the chloroform 3 she has discovered that her enemies know her secret identity 4 she has to fight for her life with an archenemy who even before was a serious threat but now looks to be physically stronger than her 5 to add the final insult she has been challenged not by Serena Rocca but by the Lost Siren, as she has to defend her title of world’s number one superheroine. Not exactly the best boost for the upcoming battle …

  3. Now for more extended thoughts. 1 In chapter three Serena was offered the chance to increase her strength in order to beat Wonder Woman. Her initial reaction was unclear (she certainly was non friendly with Dr. Hives) and we know she despises Dood (maybe she despises scientists in general) and his methods. Then out of the blue we discover that she accepted. Personal point of view: much better this surprise than reading the scene where she accepts and goes under the treatment. I like “coup de teatre” 2 Not a surprise that Serena chose to fight Wonder Woman under her Lost Siren identity: we know what she thinks about her status (then it is a psychological blow to Wonder Woman) 3 Location: I was hoping for this kind of confrontation in the Coliseum but it looks that we have arrived into a similar place 4 Osinov: how fast he moves ? He was with Diana then after few seconds he is with the other spectators 🙂 5 Diana: will she try to deny her identity in order to gain some time to think or will she accept immediately the Lost Siren’s challenge ? 6 This is the first time Wonder Woman will fight a super-strong human (not considering totally human the wolfmen in Antarctic). Will she fought no-holds-barred or will she be as usual fair and gallant, trying not to hurt her opponent ? 7 Dood: not the most important question for the moment (even for Diana) but why did he not obeyed to the lasso of truth ? 8 General comment about the story: good as always. My personal ranking (considers plot, wrting style …) 1 Rome 2 Tokyo 3 Antarctica 4 Boston 5 Paris 6 London. This means that Rome apart, there is an upward trend in your works. Cape Town has the potential to rank very high. I didn’t ranked “The return …” beacuse there is no Wonder Woman (in any case a good one, necessary to understand the whole arc). Lastly one hope: can’t wait to see the next chapter but I understand that “Rome was not built in a day” and that all of us have other things to do on a daily basis (now I am experiencing it first hand as I am trying to write something. Speaking of wich: still at plots level, far from having something worth to read …). Wishing to Author only good things !

    • 1. Thanks, I was going for the dramatic effect, as well as realising there’s enough chatter already. 2. Yes, psychologically it feels right for her. There’s also an audience; not everybody knows Serena Rocca and the Lost Siren are the same person. 3. I’ve realised there’s a few similarities between this story and the Rome one, but I didn’t consciously intend there to be. 4. There’s nothing mysterious; he simply locked Diana out and used a separate entry to the viewing gallery – but I never wrote it in the story! 5. This is really problematic for Diana because she has an audience and wouldn’t want to transform in front of them. 6. Yes, also excluding Petra’s zombie in the Boston story. 7. I will address this in the next chapter, but remember the police chief is corrupt. 8. Thank you. I welcome you ranking them, it’s interesting. I was actually going to ask this question after the story – and still will!

      It can be tough writing. I have my bad moments, usually born out of life worries. You will get there, if you have the right time and a story to tell. Thanks for your support and taking the time to make these interesting comments.

  4. Thomas Monaghan

    I’ve been enjoying reading your WW stories. Keep up the good work!!

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