Wonder Woman in London #1


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, the story and characters are my own creation, unless otherwise stated. In my stories there are no other superheroes in the world, except for Wonder Woman.      


1. Meet Steve Trevor

The second decade of the twenty-first century is no less riddled with human destruction than the first. If people aren’t killing each other in the name of war, or terror, the criminal underworld plagues societies like a deadly disease. No wonder some folk risk destroying themselves in return for drug induced highs.    

“This stuff is beginning to look like an epidemic,” Steve Trevor declared.

He looked over to his African-American assistant, Marsha Cross, laying down the coffee tray. She wore a particularly tight purple skirt with a matching jacket; however, it was the knee high black boots with lacy dark tights that really complemented her posture. Any red blooded male couldn’t help notice such a large protruding posterior – and Steve Trevor was no exception – her generously proportioned assets always served as a welcome distraction to the grave situations they face. 
 
The stern arrival of General Powstar and Agent Prince soon brought him back into focus. Diana wore a charcoal grey trouser suit of a slightly androgynous nature. She courteously smiled to Miss Cross, as she left the room, but Trevor noted neither woman truly liked one another.

“It’s worse than we thought, Steve,” said Diana, after the customary greetings, “The lab shows the heroin, in each case, has been mixed with a high concentration of strychnine­­­-“

“Strychnine, normally used as a pesticide,” Steve proudly interjected.

“Strychnine, which when ingested causes muscular convulsions and death by asphyxia,” Diana added.

“So Doc Gregson was right all along?”

“Well, let’s just say, I now owe the good doctor a dinner date,” said Diana, connecting her laptop to Steve’s office projector.

“Diana has been liaising with the British,” Powstar flatly informed.

The projector’s beam lit four faces on a screen. Diana leaned back with her right hand on her hip, clutching a pointer with her other, about to make a presentation.

“Three months ago a heroin compound with, approximately, the same amount of strychnine was found in the deceased, in London, England. At the last check, it had claimed sixty-one victims, some of whom were first time heroin users. Curiously, there hasn’t been a case reported for nearly a month. With now twelve confirmed cases on the East Coast, in the last week, I think it’s safe to assume the stuff has been shipped to the US.” 

Diana directed the pointer at the photograph, “Scotland Yard suspect a dealer in London. He’s a local African-British man, called Ochieng James, but his customers know him as ‘Pincho’.“

“Pincho’s primary contact is his one-time girlfriend, Fadhila Zuma. She is of mixed ethnicity, and known to have contacts in Europe and South Africa.” 

“Pretty girl,” Trevor said, a little too cheerily. “How do they get mixed up in these things?” he added for effect.

Adjusting her glasses as if in reaction, Diana continued, “Well, this ‘pretty girl’ appears to be the one with the big connection. She is a known associate of Radomir Semanic, a Slovakian criminal thought to be hiding in London. Semanic is a certified psychopath. Though only thirty-three, he has a record to rival Al Capone. After a troubled youth, conscription into the Slovakian Army appeared to do him good, as he was quickly promoted to the fifth Special Forces Regiment.”

“I knew the damn commies would be involved somewhere,” General Powstar commented.

“Actually, General, Slovakia is a democracy and NATO partner serving in Afghanistan,” Diana, calmly corrected.

Powstar twiddled his pen before stating, “When you get to my age you’ll realise these crummy little Eastern European countries are all the same.”

“You’d be surprised what I know for my age, General” she responded, coyly.

Aware of the mounting tension with her superior, Diana took a moment to take-off her jacket and lop it on the nearest chair. 

“Semanic’s army career was cut short when he maimed a superior officer with his favourite weapon, an AK-47 flick knife. He served three years inside. Unfortunately, while in prison, it’s thought he first made contact with Slovakian drug traffickers. Since his release, he’s been busy, wanted in connection for a series of armed robberies across the continent. Trafficking and supplying drugs from Asia to Europe, as well as two reported sexual assaults. In short, Radonir Semanic is a very dangerous man who needs to be stopped.”

“So why do they think he’s in London?” asked Steve, looking concerned.

“Ah, yes, that brings me on to the final suspect, Harry Charmers,” said Diana, “Harry is an old school London gangster, who owns a nightclub, where Fadhila Zuma works as a hostess. Charmers is thought to be the UK distributor of the heroin, in question, but when the police raided his nightclub they found no narcotics. However, on his office computer they did find a who’s who list of the biggest drug barons in Europe - including one Radonir Semanic. Charmers claimed they were simply business contacts from drinks suppliers. Only, last week a local business man was stabbed to death at Charmer’s club. Witnesses reported the killer to be from Eastern Europe and fitted Semanic’s description. Further, the forensic examination of the victim’s wounds was considered professionally cut, likely with an AK-47.” 

As Steve watched Diana kill the beam on the projector, he knew she was waiting for further instructions. 

With some reluctance he said, “Diana, I want you to fly to London to liaise with Scotland Yard, and track down these suspects as quickly as possible. At the moment young Americans are dying because of this stuff, we have no idea who the distributor is and how they’re shipping it here. These London suspects are the best leads we’ve got to go on. And Diana, take care.”

“Will do, Steve,” slinging her purse and jacket around her shoulder before exiting.

“Is that all right with you, Sir?” asked Trevor.

“Sounds like a plan to me, Steve,” Powstar incorrectly put, but proudly saluting the decision, all the same.


5 comments:

  1. Appreciate the comment, Tom

    ReplyDelete
  2. I agree steve's toughts were slowing the pace of the text. Much more in line with the show now.

    ReplyDelete