Chapter Text
In her nearly two and a half thousand year life, Diana had witnessed many mortal heroes and warriors (as well as some that were not so mortal) master the art of combat. On Themyscira her sisters dedicated their lives to mastering a particular weapon or form of combat. When they fought together it was dance, it was an elaborate and deadly choreography that brought a swift end to their foes.
Men fought differently, Diana thought to herself, in mans world it was often who had the biggest stick not he who had mastered it that prevailed. Combat in mans world was an ugly bloody thing. It could go on for days, thousands of souls lost for mere inches of ground. Since the Amazons had retreated from the world, the days of bronze blades and shields had given way weapons that could kill hundreds in a minute and could be wielded with almost no training. There was something about watching him fight that reminded her of both worlds.
The sickening sound of an arm being broken and its accompanying scream brought her back to the present. She watched as Batman moved with an almost meta-human speed and brutality between the group of thugs that had been terrorising passengers at Gotham's Grand Avenue station. She was sure he knew she was here although she hadn't seen him look up to her perch on top of the monorail track overlooking the station. She almost called out when a gang member picked himself up off the floor from behind Batman and drew a knife the length of her forearm. There was no need - an explosive half-spin half-kick from the Batman sent the thug three feet into the air. To the untrained eye the Batman looked like he fought emotionally, like he held nothing but hatred for every man that dared get in his way. But she knew him better than that, she noticed how calculated every strike was, always just enough damage to incapacitate and never more. He was holding back. A mortal man fighting unarmed against 20 others had to hold himself back. It was quite impressive really.
She often wondered who the Batman was under his mask. She knew Kal knew although whenever she pressed the issue she was met with a smirk and 'He'll tell you when he's ready'. She still couldn't believe the hypocrisy - everyone knew he used his X-Ray vision to learn the justice leagues secret identities.
The very concept of a secret identity was lost on her. Diana thought maintaining a such an identity sounded exhausting, she had always just been Diana in her head - Wonder Woman was a name given to her by the people of earth, not one she had adopted.
The dull whine of motor alerted her to the fact the confrontation had concluded. Before she could even turn to see where Batman had gone, the dull thud of boots and deep voice could be heard behind her.
"Diana"
"Batman" she replied carefully.
"What are you doing here" Batman growled as he fixed his grapnel gun back to its proper place in a small leather holster attached to his thigh.
So much for the formalities she thought.
"I need your help, well we need your help" Diana stated.
"We?" He replied seemingly more interested now.
"Yes." she said firmly "Cla-"
An intense look from Batman reminded her not to use Superman's real name.
"Superman and I have reached a what-do-you-call-it on a case" she announced, correcting her mistake.
"An impasse?" he tried.
"No that's not it" she said "Its more modern, like something The Flash would say"
"In general Princess, I make an effort to speak as little like The Flash as possible"
"Yes well I am still learning the ways of mans world" she said ever so slightly embarrassed.
Batman seemed to sense her more defensive speech and spoke more softly this time
"A dead end?"
"Yes! That is it. Superman and I have reached a dead end on our case" she stated triumphantly, proud of her adoption of the idiom.
"Ok - you can bring me up to speed after the league meeting tomorrow but no promises I have enough on my plate as it is"
"Thank you Batman we know you are--"
A faint crackle of a radio interrupted her speech. Batman glanced at her suspiciously, she realised mortals probably couldn't hear the radio inside Batman's cowl. A polite English voice started over the radio:
"Sir, Commissioner Gordon and his men are executing several warrants on the Maroni gang over at Dixon Dock West on Bleak Island, there are unconfirmed reports of shots fired and a small explosion"
Batman turned to meet her eye once more.
"I've got to run Princess. I'll see you tomorrow"
She barely had time to utter "Goodbye then" before he had thrown himself off the rail and into a glide. She watched him until he disappeared round the corner of Grand Avenue Square.
The flight back to Metropolis gave her just enough time to kick herself about her encounter with the Batman. Maybe it was his keen mind that made her unusually sensitive to feeling out of touch with all of the speech and technology of mans world. Deciding that continuing to think about why the Batman made her feel the way he did was a thread that did not need to be pulled she instead focused on her flight home.
The choppy gray water of Gotham Sound raced past below her. From here Gotham was a dark mass rising from the ocean. It more resembled a European cathedral crossed with a factory then a 21st century city. It's gloomy spires were perpetually covered in a thick layer of smog almost as if it was hiding itself from outside eyes. Maybe if 'pets take after their owners' like Hal claimed then heroes took after their city? It would certainly make sense with the Batman. She turned her attention to Metropolis ahead of her and she remarked how different the sister cities looked from here. Despite only being separated by seven miles of water they looked like they came from different planets. Metropolis was a forest of gleaming glass and progress, it looked optimistic and bright. Her eyes scanned the skyline seeing the familiar golden crest of the Daily Planet and the garish LexCorp tower piercing the very heavens. What is it with these billionaire industrialists and putting their name as high as possible into the sky? She had to admit the spire-like and gargoyle clad Wayne Tower was much more to her liking, she much preferred classical architectural forms to these modern needles man had taken to constructing.
Realising she was now most the way back to Hall of Justice she sped up, swooping through its open glass doors and on to the teleporter. An instant later and she was walking the hallways of the Watchtower, back to her quarters. A night well spent she decided.