章 8: The Queen.
"While Themyscira is usually stubborn to death, they have been conquered once, by Hercules, I believe, he tricked the young Hippolyta and caused her racism against dudes." -Arsene
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As time passed in the dimly lit dungeon, Bruce rose silently from his seat, extending his hand toward Jorno. The boy, clearly reluctant to part with the gauntlet, handed it back.
"So... we leave now?" Jorno asked, his voice carrying a note of impatience. The dungeon's cold, musty air had grown tiresome, and the stone walls were suffocating.
"Not exactly," Bruce replied, adjusting the gauntlet. "First, we need to stage a little drama." There was a calculated coolness to his tone, the wheels in his mind already turning as he thought through the next steps.
As they stepped out of the cell, the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. Occasionally, an Amazon warrior would round the corner, eyes blazing with righteous fury as they charged toward them. But Jorno had a solution for that.
"Punch," he muttered as another Amazon sprinted at them with astonishing speed, her movements fluid and precise, worthy of the legends surrounding her people. But no matter how fast they were, they still couldn't see the invisible force that protected Jorno. The crystal figure, the "King of the Clouds," materialized in a flash, its fist connecting with the Amazon's torso, sending her sprawling to the ground—knocked out cold.
Bruce barely glanced at the commotion, his attention focused elsewhere. He observed the dungeon with quiet interest. Though well-built, it was clear the space hadn't been used for much in years—perhaps centuries. The Amazons had little use for prisoners.
"So... did you name it?" Bruce asked casually, nodding toward the crystal entity as they walked.
Jorno immediately straightened his posture, a hint of pride sneaking into his voice. "No, sir. King already has a name."
Bruce raised an eyebrow at the response. King. The fact that Jorno referred to it with such respect suggested the entity was more than just a tool or a manifestation of his power. It had a personality, perhaps even a will of its own.
"Oh?" Bruce's curiosity was piqued. "Mind telling me what it is?"
Jorno hesitated for a moment, then responded. "It's rather long. He's called King of the Clouds." His voice softened as he continued. "He's not the most talkative, but he's a great friend."
Bruce made a mental note of the way Jorno spoke about the entity—friend—there was a bond there, deeper than he had expected. But before he could ask more, his attention was pulled by the sound of heated voices up ahead. As they neared the dungeon's exit, Bruce saw what he had been waiting for.
There, in the center of a small gathering, stood Diana Prince, clad in gleaming gold armor, a stark contrast to the modern clothes she usually wore. She was in the midst of a tense argument with her mother, Queen Hippolyta, whose stern features reflected both her authority and frustration.
"I thought we were clear on men, Diana," Hippolyta said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "You cannot just bring them here and jail them."
Diana stood her ground, her tone resolute. "I invited them, Mother. You can't imprison them just because they're men!"
"They arrived armed, Diana," Hippolyta replied, shaking her head. "And besides, I'm not allowing another man to remain on our island. Last time was mercy enough."
Hippolyta's words carried an unmistakable reference to Steve Trevor, the man who had entered their world decades ago and sparked the events that had led Diana to leave the island. The memory clearly lingered, unforgotten.
"But this is different!" Diana insisted, her frustration growing. "Not all men are evil, we've seen that. We have to consider the bigger picture."
Hippolyta was unmoved. "That's enough, Diana," she said, her voice hardening. "They will be released at first light and thrown out tomorrow. You may speak with them if you wish, but they will not stay."
As the Queen turned, her eyes landed on Bruce and Jorno standing at the edge of the gathering, watching in silence. Bruce, clad in his dark, armored suit, with the bat symbol emblazoned on his chest, stepped forward with his usual calm.
"I thank you for your… hospitality, Queen Hippolyta," Bruce said, his voice as steady as ever. "But I request a trial—the winner earns the right to stay. The loser is banished."
A ripple of shock passed through the gathered Amazons. Their faces twisted with anger and disbelief, murmurs rising like a wave.
"WHAT?!"
"How dare he?! A mere man?"
"Presumptuous."
"The madness of men truly knows no bounds."
The Amazons' reactions were fierce, their voices filled with contempt and disbelief. Bruce expected this. He had calculated that an Amazonian society, built on strength and honor, would never turn down a challenge, no matter the source.
Queen Hippolyta's expression remained neutral, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. She considered his words carefully before speaking. "I admit," she said slowly, "we Amazons do adhere to trial by combat. But as a show of mercy, I will not fight you myself."
She paused, letting the weight of her decision hang in the air before continuing. "Instead, I will place our offspring against yours."
Bruce's stoic expression faltered for the briefest moment. His mind raced, realizing what she was proposing. His eyes shifted toward Jorno, and after a beat of hesitation, he nodded reluctantly.
"...We agree," he said.
Diana, standing nearby, felt her heart sink. She could see the path this was leading to, and it worried her. Her best friend, Donna Troy, was already stepping forward, confidence radiating from her. While Donna would never fight to kill, Diana knew the outcome was already certain. How could Bruce and Jorno hope to stand against an Amazon in single combat?
Donna, hands on her hips, gave a cocky smirk as she pointed at Bruce and Jorno. "Be grateful, men. I'll show mercy."
Jorno, though outwardly calm, felt a flicker of irritation bubble up inside him. The way Donna stood, so sure of herself, so smug—he wouldn't forget that. When the time came, he wouldn't hold back.
"Thank you, Donna," Hippolyta said, raising a hand to silence her. "But as a further act of generosity, I will grant you half a fortnight to prepare."
The guards then escorted Bruce and Jorno to their quarters. It was clear to both of them that this was no ordinary guest accommodation—the small, sparse room was more a holding area than a place of rest.
Jorno frowned as he glanced around, noticing the two simple beds and the distinct lack of any luxury. "Huh... well, I'm tired, and their hospitality isn't exactly… hospitable," he muttered, flopping down on one of the beds. Within minutes, his quiet snores filled the room.
Bruce, however, had other plans. Ever the strategist, he quickly scanned the room, noting the pile of weapons stacked in the corner. Without hesitation, he constructed a bed dummy, arranging the blankets and pillows to give the illusion of a sleeping figure. Then, in a practiced movement, he hooked himself to the ceiling, hanging upside down like a bat.
Vigilance, after all, was always necessary—no matter the time or place.
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[Auther: Yo! This story is also easier than my others since the chapters are shorter, ah the joy of posting daily again...]
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