Mythical Monster

December 26, 2018:

Wonder Woman faces off with a winged beast from ancient greece while Deathstroke seems to be the reason its even here!


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Winter in New York is rarely a good time for outdoor events, the wind, the snow, the salt spray from the covered roads and accompanying plow trucks, layers of black ice and thick brown slush… but where there's a will, a large number of financial donors, and an excuse to wear a tux, then there's a way to see it so in the Big Apple. In this case that 'way' has been made possible by a MASSIVE tent like structure, large standing space heating posts, lavish temorary wood and carpeted flooring, and perhaps most importantly a mobile bar of polished walnut that in no way /looks/ mobile.

The International Commision For The Advancement Of Ancient Art and Antiquities, a name both so long and redundant that you just know it has to be some billionaire's tax dodge made manifest, has put on display a large collection of Mediterranean metalurgy inside the tent. Greecian style column pedistals abound, each supporting a stand on which an example of the theme rests. Blades and bracers stand next to coins and buckles, each in the forest of columns is accompanied with a small plaque offering up dates of creation, discovery, and factoids linked in some way to each peice. Honestly, the collection is more impressive for it's size then for it's importance. Very little in the room is unique or mind blowing, though they are rare if only because of their age. This entire fund raiser however, is meant as a precursor to the larger sculpture display the Commision is planning to host in the spring, a taste to lure in the sheep of the upper east side so that they can be sheared.

Diana, of course, was given an invitation. While there is little here to draw her attention in the manner a true artifact of note might, the shear volume of items is impressive, and who knows whay may lurk amid the debris of sandle buckles and sheild clasps? If nothing else, the caterer is top notch and the food is exceptionally well made, region specific, and accompanied by very taseful Italian and Greek wines. As far as evenings out go, there are worse ones to have.

An event of this style and design is one that fits Diana Prince like a well beloved glove. As such the Princess of Themyscira is in attendance here tonight, she'd arrived just a short while ago and had made her way inside after a valet had checked her vehicle for her. Wearing a black jacket over a deep crimson dress, Diana's hair is tied up into a lovely style atop the crown of her head, she looks as anyone would expect her to… tall and graceful, standing out amongst the crowd with ease.

But there's never been an ounce of arrogance or overly wealthy snobbery in the way Diana carries herself, including tonight. She makes her way through the attendees clustered about and she greets the faces she knows with a smile, the ones she doesn't with a nod and a smile as well. Her eyes do drift over the pieces on display, she's certainly intrigued by all of them as her love for historical artifacts is one of her personal passions and its where she centered her work for a large majority of her time after leaving Themyscira, she felt the best way to grow accustomed to 'man's world' was to immerse herself in its history, and she did that for… a hundred years?

Now though, she's a known public figurehead for peace, love and justice in the world. She's a representative of her isolated homeland as well, trying to slowly mix her people's culture into the rest of the world through many different efforts such as the Themysciran Arts Center on the upper east side of Manhattan.

Now though? Diana is mingling and casually milling about the flow of the crowd.

"Diana!" calls a high pitched and vaugely nasal voice, "Oh my! I honest never thought I'd catch you at such a low key showing as this!" the word 'this' is accompanied by something of a high pitched squeel of delight as a rotund woman of middeling years in a tasteful burgandy dress glides her way across the floor in Diana's direction. Rich, handsome in a fashion made possible more by medicine then natural genetics, and famous for being equal parts generous and spiteful depending on her mood, Helen Glade is the heiress to a sizeable railway fortune and a snob of the highest calibre. Her constant attempts to corner Diana at an event such as this have been anything but subtle to start with, and now she's clearly thrown all subtelty to the wind as she's barreling Di's direction at an ill advised speed in three inch pumps amid a forest of columned displays. Trailing behind her is a shorter balding white haired man, looking for all the world like the human equivilent of a small poofy white furred purse dog, huffing and puffing whilst trying to keep up with his wife. Garret Glade is nothing like his wife, he is, actually, almost like nothing at all. Down right laconic and socially invisible, the only mentions ever made of him are in direct relation to his always seeming to follow his wife about on an invisible leash.

Diana has known all types of people since joining the mainstream societies of the Earth, all kinds. The Glades were like many others she'd known in this span of time and even with the woman rushing toward her and exclaiming her words as such, Diana turns to look to her and affords her a warm smile of dark crimson lips. "Helen." Diana says to her and moves to offer her a quick and light embrace. "It is very nice to see you and I like what I see here tonight." She of course is referring to the art and historical recoveries on display here-in.

She looks to Helen's husband and she offers him a soft and curt nod, but a smile also. "How are your feet holding up, Garret?" She asks him coyly, assuming that he's uncomfortably surviving the night as best as he can, trailing after his wife she knows would much prefer to be seated somewhere.

Diana looks back to Helen however and lowers her pointed chin to look at the woman's face, her dark eyebrows raising. "All is well, I hope?" She asks, her Greek accented English thick as ever upon her smokey toned voice.

Helen squees a second time as she collects her Diana Hug(tm), wriggling a little at the joy it brings her. Perhaps the husband isn't the puppy of the pair after all. "Bah! This collection is beneath your notice. Shoe buckles! They put out shoe /buckles/, my dear, it's not even the whole shoe!" she titters slightly, "How am I supposed to look at a buckle alone and judge whether or not I shall have to purchase a similar fashion for the spring sculpture collection? I cannot judge the cuteness of a shoe upon it's buckle /alone/. I mean, I'm /good/ but I'm not /that/ good."

Garret, pink faced and trying not to breath to heavily, merely offers Diana a silent look she's well aquainted with, a plea for help, while he swipes a glass of champagne from a passing tray and presses it to his lips in despiration.

"Oh his feet are /fine/!" his wife answers for him, even as her husband throws out his silent desperate cry for saving, "Man of his age, a little light jogging is /just/ the thing to keep him fit as a fiddle." she glances back at her husband, frowns, "Well." she offers, "Maybe a cello." then titters again.

Mid titter, the display next to Diana simply explodes. There's no warning, no heads up, just impact as something large and extremely heavy hits the display are a shocking speed. Glass shatters in to shrapnel, the braclet collection the display held scatters in glints of bronze, the plaster moulded column turns to powder on impact and throws a fine mist of particles into the air like a fog. The object doesn't merely land, it careens in a straight line, crashing through a half dozen more displays, spewing glass and art and plaster dust as it goes, light glinting from it's surface.

If the impact was not distraction enough, a fraction of a second later comes a raptor scream like that of an eagle or a hawk, ampliphied by a geometric progression, the sound causeing the skin to crawl, and hairs to stand on end. It's not a sound of this millenia, it's a sound from millenia past, a sound that makes the lizard portion of the human mind gibber and quail. It's the sound of a thing that does not acknowledge humanities place atop the food chain.

Diana is amused by Helen's blatant disregard for the items on display, even if it is more than a little ignorant it is a personality quirk that is mostly harmless and in that vein it can be entertaining in moderate doses here and there at galas such as this.

"Now now, Helen… a shoe buckle can be far more interesting depending on who's shoe it may have belonged to…" She's still grinning about the idea when she looks to Garret to see his displeased expression to his wife's suggestion that he needs exercise… a notion that Diana doesn't wholely disagree with either, but she still holds sympathy for the aging man's discomfort.

"In fact, if we look at this display here—" Diana was pointing Helen and Garret in the opposite direction of the display that is suddenly smashed into debris and particulates, but when the explosive action happens Diana's quick reflexes have her stepping over to let the destroyed displays ruins hit her and her black jacket covered body rather than either of the Glades!

She then turns to look in the direction of the mess, while her hands go up behind the small of her back and into her jacket, only to re-emerge with her Bracers of Submission sliding down onto her wrists and then onto her forearms. Diana's eyes are narrowed now and she's looking for the source of that creature's calling cries!

"Fucking." says a metalic echoing voice from the tail end of the destructions path, "Magic." followed by a soft hissing grunt of pain. A post heater is pushed aside and reveals the ninja like form of Deathstroke, his high tech layered suit has clearly seen better days. Bits of it's black armor layer are peeled back in places, showing tufts of the white impact padding that lays beneath. There are rips and tears here and there, and no small amount of blood smeared across the left hand side of the suit, something that would be almost impossible to see if the armor weren't peeled back and showing the white layer stained pink beneath it. Part of the metal helm has been torn away, the black metal ripped and shredded away as if by a giant can opener, showing the opper lip of his eye patch and a tuft of white hair stained to a pink of it's own as if in solidarity with the armor. He rolls over onto his knees and pulls his power lance from the rubble, it's ends still glowing with white hot sizzling energy.

He begins to use the staff to pull himself to his feet when a second cry rips through the air, and the people who were frozen in terror, now scream as one and begin fleeing in every direction at once, uncertain as to where to go. "Yeah yeah," Deathstroke mutters, "don't get your panties in a wad. You'll get yours."

As if in answer to the statement, the giant tent structure shudders and shakes as a shadow passes over the large rip in the tent's roof that Deathstroke's hurteling body made only a moment prior. There is the wuffing sound of beating wings, and the tent shudders again before massive talons pierce the canvas like tissue paper, their six foot curves glinting in the now flickering lights as if they were made of steel.

Occasionally Diana gets to go out on the town and enjoy her nightlife stylings of choice, without chaos and combat breaking out… occasionally. It would appear tonight wasn't one of those nights though and with a look back to the Glades she sees that they are scurrying toward one of the exits, as are many others… everyone in attendance really. Diana sees a pair of people topple over in the chaos and she rushes toward them, reaching them in seconds she lifts them both back up to their feet and helps guide them toward some event security personnel.

Then, she turns and lets her eyes scan over the carnage and up to the voice she'd heard with her advanced hearing… she looks to where Slade is and with a powerful jump she leaps toward him!

Though she doesn't leap at him with the intent to engage in combat with him, no she leaps with the intent of landing near to where he is, and when she does land, she slowly raises up and give him a very serious glare. "What." She starts. "Is going on?" She seems very unsure of this very shady looking individual. But her eyes are drawn up to the sound of the wings in the air. It sounds like a dragon, a dragon? No, that would be impossible.

Deathstroke manages to get to his feet as the talons tear into the ceiling again, the glinting scthyes making short work of the cloth before they find one of the main support posts and simply grip it and with a deafening WHOMP of a flap, hurl it away into the night as if it were a twig in the way. In the distance there's the sound of screeching brakes and a crash of steel on steel, presumably as the post lands. "Oh great. It's you." Deathstroke says in a voice so dry it could act as it's own dehumidifying agent.

His one eyed mask turns up to the night sky and for the first time Diana gets a look at what awaits them, "Oh great." he says, and this time there's a more pondering tone to his voice, "It's /you/." The lights of the city, the bright moon overhead, all of it helps Diana to see what has begun laying waste to the tent. It's… a bird. A giant. Massive. Creepy. Bird.

With talons like great swords, a wingspan nearly thirty feet across, and a hooked beak attached to a long graceful neck, the entire thing is almost to ludicrous to acknowledge as real. The glint of it's claws and it's… plumage? Is almost kalidoscopic and hypnotic as the lights that the city casts are reflected back, in a rippling moving mosaic of rolling organic shifts. "Diana, Princess of Themyscira, I give you one of the Stymphalian birds. I called it Pecky. Because-" As if hearing it's name enraged the creature, it's head snaps down at the pair of them, it's glinting beak barely a blur of motion. Not only is the creature massive, but it's /FAST/.

At first the Princess' eyes are on Slade and his strange attire, but there's little she can do to keep her interest on HIM since the presence of this rather rare sight is so violently making itself known! Diana's dark eyebrows furrow as she stares at the beast, she can hear the destruction it is bringing down upon the city beyond the tattered tent and she gives a glance to Slade once more as he starts to introduce it to her to inform her of what it is… she'd heard of things like it before, a Gryphon for instance, but she'd never seen one of these in person… her mother had read her a story once about these types of creatures, many many years ago.

"Why is it here?" Diana says back to him and his strangely calm ways regarding this creature.

But within a second she sees its descent and its impending attack! This causes Wonder Woman to leap to the side out of its way and though she'd brought her bracers with her inside of her jacket, she didn't have her armor or sword so she was at a bit of a disadvantage in her ability to respond-in-kind with the creature.

What she does have, however is the Lasso of Truth. It emerges from her right sleeve and she begins to rapidly unfurl it as it snaps to life and begins to glow quite brightly. "Either way…" Diana says darkly. "It must be stopped." And her lasso is lashed outward toward the avian's neck!

The creature's head retracts as fast as it struck out, the impact it made with the earth carved a furrow two feet deep and four feet long in that fraction of a second. "I wouldn't do that." Slade says as he rolls his shoulder and his staff swings in a tight arc, moving into a fighting stance as if he were regaining his wind after his spectacular landing. "Actually." he says, eyeing her for a moment, "Do that. Can you make that thing brighter? Get it's attention?" one can almost swear he's smiling somewhere beneath the mask, "I have an idea." and the glowing ends of his staff hiss for a moment before they snuff out, their power cut by a flick of Deathstroke's thumb.

The lasso by its very nature is quite bright, but it can be made to burn brighter indeed. So as he first warns her against her actions of trying to ensnare the creature only to then encourage her she looks over to him for but a moment before she jumps to a more advantageous position, steadies her feet where she stands (heeled shoes were not the plan for this sort of activity tonight) and she wraps the lasso's end around her hand and begins to mutter something beneath her breath…

As she mutters however, the lasso DOES glow brighter! It could light up the whole area around the tent if there weren't already a wealth of light already present from the gala event of the evening that has now been summarily ruined!

"Whatever it is that you have in mind, I suggest you make haste with it!" Diana shouts back to Deathstroke then as she continues to taunt at the beast to make it focus on her, she not really worried about dodging it… its fast, but she's rather fast herself!

Unluckily for Diana, it doesn't have to bother with speed all the time. A fact made evident as it tracks her leap with a quirking of it's head before issueing another scream of challenge into the night, it's wings flaring up as in a pair of beats, it's once more launched itself just beyond the tent's roof. Diana's shout is met with silence, and a glance informs her that Deathstroke has simply vanished into thin air, the large bleeding man eraseing himself from exsistence. Perhaps if she'd not spent time working with Batman that would have be unsetteling.

What is decidedly unsetteling however is that the third beat of it's massive wings doesn't seem aimed at getting the creature any more height, and instead, it fills the air with a rain of reflective projectiles, razored feathers the size of broadswords hurtle down from above. Unlike it's previous strike which was fast, this one is merely quick, and what it lacks in speed it more then makes up for in area of damage. Steel post heaters cut cleanly in half, pedistals of plaster and wood shatter like dinner plates, that mobile bar of walnut explodes into splinters under the thunderous force of the spear like down.

When the barrage of falling knives swords and dangerous projectiles begins to hail down the area, Diana takes a step back and then raises her protective bracers up to deflect any that come close enough to her body to threaten her well being, and those that are otherwise unable to be immediately blocked she moves to dance through and around them, using her immense reflexes she slips through them WHILE deflecting them, sending bright showers of sparks out around her as she goes!

With a twirl of her body her jacket is tossed off and she lands with a heavy exhale. The mythical creature of Ares will suddenly get a taste of its own medicine now, however, as members of Diana's warrior people have arrived, two of them in fact, one of them wielding a golden bow… this Amazonian warrior is firing arrows at the bird while another shouts out. "Diana!" And tosses the Princess her sword!

In just the red dress now, Diana leaps into the air to catch her sword by its handle, lasso in her left hand and sword in her right she flies at the beast attempts to swipe at its avian face!

The Symphalian bird ignores the Amazonian arrows as they land and immediatly ricochet off into the night, kicking off a few lazy sparks of their own. Warriors of Themyscira or no, they seem beneath the creatures notice and for their efforts are granted little more then a wing flip, sending dozens of spear like feathers hurteling their way.

Diana's sword makes contact and the bird's face snaps slightly to one side, the creature reeling in the air slightly under the force of the blow… but the sword's keen edge didn't so much as scratch it's plumage, the impressive firework like explosion of sparks lighting up the night.

Deathstroke, for his part, watches from the shadows, his eye narrowing in contemplation. The new arrivals are given as much thought as the bird gave them, hardly worth his … huh. He turns to glance at them again, his eye narrowing as one of the pair is spun in place, her shield clearly useless as two of the feathers slice through it as if it were tissue paper before passing through her torso. The Amazon falls only partially, her body propped up in the air by the very feathers that killed her, vacant eyes stareing at the earth unseeing. <Going off line.> Slade subvocals into his mic, triggering the coms device with his HUD, then adds, <Peabody. Code Mars.> there's a long pause before the responce comes, a worried tinge to it's tone, «Acknowledged. Good luck.» and then the coms go dead. Slade is moving in the shadows as only one of his ilk can, a liquid flow of grace and stealth as he slithers through the feather strewn battlefield beneath the two giants duking it out above him. Plans change, and this one is argueably better.

Sadly the Amazons and Diana didn't have any Hydra blood or the Rattle of Hephaestus to battle off this mythical bird. The Amazons on the ground make for cover after their attacks accomplished nothing, and Diana? Her sword strike sent the bird's head off to the side but she otherwise flies backwards and assaults the mighty avian by now slamming her bracers together to send a kinetic energy wave spread outward toward it to rattle it in a whole different way, using every trick in her Divinely Gifted Arsenal to attempt to bring the beast down before any further damage could be wrought upon this night!

Diana would then fly upward and try to get around behind the creature, hoping to have dazed it with her kinetic blast long enough to get the lasso arpound it and land upon its back now! A sort've Greek Mythological Rodeo!

Deathstroke can see it all playing out in slow motion. Literally. His mind racing ahead of the things actually happening and seeing what comes next. He can see Diana's attack before it happens, understands her tactic even as she begins to implement it. He reads her motions as they begin to unspool, and he uses them to his advantage. Time is limited.

The wave of power sends the great beast into a twisting spin in the air, it's wings spreading wide to help stabalize it's suddenly rocked weight. The spin causes it to send out hundreds more of it's feathers, spewing them randomly in every direction, the sound of shattering glass, crumbling masonry, torn asphault, and screams of terror filling the night. The flash of light and wave of power fills the sky and draws the attention of an Amazon. It's why she never sees him coming. Armored fingertips strike out in flickering motions, the now collapsed staff striking faster then the head of a snake, both making a stacatto drum sound as they roll over the Amazon's body. Thigh, hip, elbow, should, side of the head just behind the ear. The blows rain in a fraction of a second, sending the warriors nervous system into complete collapse and causing her eyes to roll back in her head, her body going limp. Slade catches her without letting her make a sound, her sisters never heard the impacts over the sound of Diana's bracers. He's vanished once more into the darkness before the others turn their eyes from the sky to see their slumbering unarmed sister laid beneath what remains of a table.

He knows he's running out of time. He's fast. Faster then only a handful of people alive, but it's still unfolding faster then he can get into possition! He crosses the empty space of the tent at full tilt, barreling towards the canvas wall with lethal intent. He plucks up a feather from the ground as he goes and twists his body, slicing it through the air and cutting the tent's wall cleanly just in time to whip through it in a dive.

Time slows further.

This is what it's like in his head, when he's forced to fully focus on a problem. Everything. Slows. Dooooown. Everything but his thoughts.

Diana is moving quicker then most do when he sees the world this way, zipping up and over the creature's shoulder. He twists in mid air, his body reacting soooo sloooowly in comparison to his mind. He feels the feather in his hand, sliding between his fingers. He watches as the glowing line of the lasso whips arouns the birds neck sending golden glowing waves of light rippling over it's skin. His eye narrows to a slit, helping hone his vision even further, telescoping in almost like a rifle scope and bringing the creature into focus. Almost there. His twisting body brings his shoulder into line, his hand raises, his fingers feel the bite of the string, his back muscles tighten and cause the tear in his side to scream in pain. He shuts that portion of his mind down, ignores the pain, focuses on the moment. He grits his teeth against the power needed to fully draw an Amazonian bow, and Diana yanks back on her newly made leash, pulling the bird's neck back, it's wings wide, forcing it to arch it's spine and thrust out it's chest. The world comes into crystal clear forcus for just that single instant, the one perfect moment, everything stops… and he releases the string.

The world comes crashing back in on him as he lands, his shoulder hitting the ground outside of the tent, his roll taking him haphazardly into a tree hard enough to cause the trunk to crack with the impact. His body bending at an unnatural angle around it's girth with a soft cracking pop. The feather, stolen from the hundreds littering the ground, slices through the air silently, ripping through the night, until it slams into the beasts exposed chest, right beneath one wide spread wing, and bites deeply through the feathers, sinking nearly all of it's four feet into the animal's hide.

Diana, for her part, is standing on the creatures back now with her lasso around its neck and she's moving to swirl more of the length of rope around the shoulders of the beast so that she may take control of its flight pattern as well!

With the attack from the ground successfully sliding one of the feathers back into its hosts own body, she can better gain control of it in the tied-up fashion she has it in now and Diana is forcefully angling the giant predator of myth back down toward the ground with the full-on intention of forcing it to fly right into the earth itself, she doesn't know if its damaged enough to keep it from landing or if it'll just collide head first into the dirt and pavement below, but she's pulling hard on the indestructible lasso's bond with her mighty strength to force control upon the animal and make it down itself!

Down below the Amazons are pulling their members back to where they'd come to get away from the carnage and by now its quite evident that local law enforcement and emergency response units are arriving, its become an all-too common place event for such reactions and the local authorities are becoming way better equipped to fight bigger and worse threats, but this, is likely on another level.

The Stymphalian bird has, in it's long long life, never felt pain before. It has known fear, once or twice, but never pain. Nothing has been able to hurt it, not really. Pain is completely new territory. So is blood filling it's lung. Both of these new sensations cause the creature to panic. It thrashes in the night sky, bucking and twisting even as Diana wrests her lasso's loop tighter. The bird's thrashings send feathers hurteling into the earth in a storm of spears, slamming through trees, cars, luckily the galla was held in the park here and so most of the property damage is limtied to the tent structure itself, the surrounding foliage, and a few cars parked at the edge of the grassline. Small favors.

The bird hits the earth with an force that causes the gruond to shake, and a fountain unlucky enough to be caught beneath it to be turned to gravel. It's shudders and jerks grow increasingly weaker, it's head flops down to the ground, then rises again, it's dangerous beak snapping back and forth before flopping to the earth once more, small twitches and jerks spasming through it's massive body before, eventually, slowly, it goes limp and seems settle almost gently down onto the ground.

Diana doesn't hesitate to dismount the bird once it slams into the ground, but she doesn't do it to abandon the creature, far from it. Instead she's using her lasso to further ensnare it and 'hog tie it' so to speak. Her goal is to make sure that the beast is simply unable to move again a way that would allow it to get back into the sky, to continue the chaos or to flee even, she wants this beast to meet its end or be taken to a place where it cannot get free to do this sort of attack again… wherever it came from.

Eiehter way, once she's accomplished her task of using the golden rope to bond the beast up in a way she believes will hinder it unable to move enough to get away again she then turns and runs back toward her people, but she stops when she spots Deathstroke, and now he finds her talking toward HIM with her sword out to her side. "What was this creature doing here?" She says to him in a demanding sort of way. "Where did it come from." She's 'almost' shouting at him.

Deathstroke isn't easy to spot honestly, the bastard has that way of melting into the shadows that she's seen is common in her Gotham related allies. But it's hard to make a six foot tall golden long bow poof. He's propped up against the shattered trunk of a tree, his impact against it was clearly immense, it's bowed out at a slight angle, wooden splinters jutting out at odd angles. He's half slumped over, one of his legs bent at an unnatural angle, his arms limp at his sides.

It takes him a long moment to respond when she asks her question and to do so he reaches up to grip his half deathshead mask and tap it's hidden release, causing it to fall away from his face with a metal clink sound, wobbling down into his lap. He looks up, and then she can see the feather jutting from his guts, pinning him against the tree neatly like a butterfly in a display case. "Sent… sent after… me." he answers, blood dribbling between his lips and down his chin, staining his white goatee. His head slumps back against the trunk so he can look up at her, his breathing hard and short as he answers her second question, "Ares." then slowly, oh so slowly, he grins, his lips pulling away from red smeared teeth, "Hell… hell of a shot though… right?" before his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps forward over the javelin like feather and goes still.

Diana comes to a halt a few steps in front of where he's pinned and she starts to scan him over visually as he removes his mask and begins to respond to her. She takes note of where he's injured and she examines it for a moment, until he speaks of Ares and then her eyes shoot back up to his. "Ares sent this after you?" She asks him, a confused expression falls across her face then, she's mad… very mad, but she's keeping that contained and now she's focused on figuring out. "Why?" She asks him next.

Not far away are the emergency services and Diana reaches up to signal some of them, police and EMTs. "You need medical attention." She tells him. "Many do here now, because of this heinous attack." She draws in a breath and takes a slightly more relaxed posture with her sword going down tip-toward-ground and her other hand reaching out to take hold of that golden bow he'd left behind, belonging to her people, her Sister.

Diana steps forward then and she shifts both of the bow and sword into her left hand while her right reaches for the man's buzzing cell phone. She draws it out of its storage and she flips it over in her hand to read the display screen on the device.

It's unfamiliar design and lack of company logo anywhere on it is a little weird, but then again, the assassin clearly isn't normal. The display flashes once as she turns it over, and on it's screen in green text it reads <Identity Confirmed.> then the words vanished replaced with new ones, these in orange. <you can't leave him. ares is looking for him. protect him somewhere safe. we should meet.> there's a pause, then, <tomorrow. metropolis's hq for its branch of drs without borders. 3pm.>

Diana's eyes remain on the phone's display while she reads the text scrawling on it and then she looks up and gives a glance around in the general directions in front of her. None of her advanced senses can pick up any oddities in the crowd, someone was likely watching this—that much was obvious. But either way, when the EMTs arrive, Diana takes a step back. "I will accompany him to the hospital." She tells them. "He needs to be placed under police guard as well." She tells the NYPD officers who've come over to aide them.

She gives another look to Deathstroke before she exhales and starts to walk toward her people to check on them as well, they're not far by any means, just a small walk away.

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