The Assassination of Diana Prince

By Alexandra Nigro

3/4

 

 

Eddie Fyers wasn't the least bit surprised to find Dubois sitting on his bunk in the dark when he returned.  "You know," he said dryly, "for a militia, you people aren't big on locks."

 

"We are a religious organization, Mr. Fyers.  We trust each other."

 

"I've lived as long as I have by not trusting anybody.  I haven't seen anything here to make me change my mind.  Why don't we get down to business?"  Eddie sat down on the bunk across from Dubois and yanked on the small reading light perched above him.  "What do you want from me?"

 

Dubois wasn't looking at him.  "You assume I want something?"

 

Eddie laced his fingers and leaned forward.  "People like you always want something from people like me - and it's never a handshake or a conversation.  You think I've lied to you, Mr. Dubois?  Well, you've lied to me.  You gave me some fancy line about spreading your beliefs to people, about showing the world a model of people living without meta-human interference.  Bullshit.  People like Truman don't hang out in communes to soak up the pacifist philosophy.  And Green Arrow is going to be seriously upset to find out you've finally been convinced to spread more bullets than pamphlets."

 

The heavy-set man's head came up sharply.  "Who said anything about violence?"

 

"I'm an old man, Mr. Dubois, and I'm getting older by the second.  It always comes down to guns."

 

"You said you wanted to be a part of what we were fighting for."

 

"Maybe I do.  Do me the courtesy of showing me the whole picture." Eddie wished for Connor's presence.  The kid would benefit highly from this kind of instruction session in human nature.

 

"People aren't listening.  It's not that decent people necessarily love the meta-humans - but the ordinary citizen, how can he help but be afraid?  These 'super-heroes' are seen as gods."

 

"And you intend to demonstrate otherwise.  I hope you understand the consequences of murder."

 

Dubois shook his head violently.  "It's not murder.  She's not human."

 

"She?  Who exactly am I being contracted to kill?"

 

Dubois composed his face.  And told him.

 

Eddie laughed in his face.

 

~oo00oo~

 

Connor returned back late to find Eddie, awake and alone, lying on the bed with his feet propped up against the wall.  "Colonel Baker's daughter is a nice girl.  But she's very confused."

 

"Well, I hope she's worth it."

 

Connor frowned.  "Worth what?"

 

"Killing the Wonder Woman."

 

Connor set his bag down gently.  "I beg your pardon?"

 

Eddie rolled over on his stomach.  "You're about to become more famous than your father, Connor.  You're going to kill the second most powerful person on earth.  Frankly, I'm surprised we're not being sent to kill the Big Guy himself, but hey, death doesn't seem to bother him."

 

"I'm not killing anyone."

 

"Well, according to our gentle hosts - by which I mean Truman primarily - we either take this job or leave in the morning."

 

Connor began unlacing his boots.  "Then we take Elise with us."

 

"Not so easy."  Eddie pursed his lips.  "Truman's on to us, he knows me, he knows Baker, he probably knows his kid, and he probably has our motive here figured out.  He's a sneaky, sociopathic bastard, but no one ever said he was stupid."  He steeple his fingers.  "I say we take the contract.  More opportunities."

 

"I'm going to leave the moral questions aside for a moment, because I'm sure they wouldn't faze you."

 

"Oooh.  That hurts."

 

Connor took a deep breath.  "From what I've heard of the Wonder Woman, she's not easy to kill."

 

"You know?  I once saw her on television throwing a tank at somebody.  Un-be-lieveable.  Anyway, you should hear the plan Dubois threw at me.  If Truman came up with that sucker, he's even more out of touch with reality than I thought."

 

"What does that say about you?  If you're going to do it?"

 

Eddie frowned and sat up.  "Jesus, Connor, haven't you learned anything yet?  We have an impossible set up here, so we change the location and situation to our advantage.  Do you think you can convince Elise to come with us?"

 

"I doubt that would be a problem."

 

"Good.  We nail Truman and Dubois and get Elise the hell out of this monkey house.  Your father used to call that 'setting up his targets in a row'."

 

"How?"

 

"How good a shot are you - really?"

 

Oliver Queen was dead, so Connor could say this honestly.  "The best living."

 

"You better be."  Without waiting for Connor to finish undressing, Eddie switched off the light.

 

~oo00oo~

 

The first weak rays of pre-dawn light had barely cracked over the treetops when the members of the compound finished loading the vans.  Eddie waited for Connor to slide into the seat beside him before gunning the truck's engine.  "Ah.  The protest circuit.  Makes me fondly remember my youth."

 

"Do these people know what Dubois really intends to do in New York City?"

 

"Connor, most of these people couldn't find their ass with both hands and a flashlight.  I never ceased to be amazed by the power of stupid people in large groups."  He flipped on the headlights and pulled the truck into line behind the last van moving out the gate.  "I didn't see Elise."

 

"She's in the lead truck.  With Dubois and Truman."

 

"Goddamn it." Eddie gunned the engine, causing the van in front up him to speed up nervously.  "Do you think she knows anything?"

 

"I hope not.  She didn't seem the type."

 

"People like this have a disturbing tendency to get moulded into 'the type'.  Don't take any chances.  As soon as you hear the first shots fired, grab the girl and get clear."

 

"What about you?"

 

"I'm about to have a hundred and thirty pound Amazon princess bearing down on my sorry ass.  You worry about your end of this production number and let me worry about mine."

 

Connor went silent and Eddie groaned inwardly.  He often forgot that the kid hadn't the time or the life to build up the shell his father had.  Ollie and Connor shared the same talents, but wildly different personalities.  He'd have to remember that.

 

~oo00oo~

 

It was a long trip into the city.  Connor wasn't big on Manhattan.  That much concrete and steel made him feel alien and alone.  Watching the vans pull into an underground garage, Connor tried to catch a glance of Elise.  Nowhere to be found.  People poured from the vans, carrying signs and banners, most smiling and laughing like this was some kind of church picnic.

 

Dubois appeared at the driver's side window.  "You ready?"

 

Eddie reached behind the seat and grabbed his duffel bag.  An assault rifle padded with towels.  Just like the good ol' days.  "No sweat.  Get your bow, Green Arrow."

 

"Green Arrow will not be joining us." 

 

Connor shot him a nervous look.  "I thought I was in."

 

Dubois wouldn't quite meet his eyes.  "We decided to give you a better vantage point for your shot."

 

Eddie's face didn't change, but his stomach did a tight flip.  "Where?"

 

"Across the plaza.  On top of the Yeardly Hotel."

 

Connor exited the truck swiftly, pulling his bag with him.  "Fine. Let's go."

 

Eddie was starting to get angry, always his reaction when plans got out of hand.  "I don't like last minute changes."

 

Connor reached across the seat to lay his hand on Eddie's arm.  "You take care of your end of this production and I'll take care of mine."  His emerald eyes flashed.

 

Christ.  Not so different from Ollie after all.  They parted with a nod.

 

Eddie moved into the crowd of jostling protesters, Dubois following close behind.  "I don't need a babysitter," he growled curtly.

 

"A good leader doesn't let his men go into battle alone."

 

Right.  Eddie dove quickly for the men's room by the garage elevator.

 

"Where are you going Mr. Fyers?" inquired Dubois.

 

Eddie turned sharply.  "If you had actually earned any of those military patches, you'd know that a smart man empties his bladder before going into a fight.  Think I can have a minute of privacy?"

 

That seemed to fluster Dubois and he nodded, slightly red-faced.

 

Eddie waited for the door to slam shut firmly before yanking his cell phone out of the waistband of his jeans.  Calling for help wasn't his style, but there were a lot of things he did nowadays that weren't his style.  Watching his best friend die of his own pig-headedness made a guy re-evaluate his tactics.  Connor had given him a number, nearly a

half a year back.  Only for emergencies.  Damn if this didn't count.  He stabbed the number in and covered his hand over the mouthpiece.

 

"Oracle."

 

It was a woman.  That threw him.  "Who the hell is this?"

 

"Who the hell is THIS?" replied the woman sharply.

 

He didn't have time for an argument.  "Look, I hope this is who I meant to call, cause if you're some MaBell operator, you're in for a earful.  A member of the Justice League is about to be assassinated in the plaza in front of the Museum of Man in New York City.  I suggest you haul some ass."  He switched the phone off viciously.  He swung open the door, startling Dubois.  'Let's go."

 

           

Barbara Gordon sat back heavily in her wheelchair and glanced at the clock.  Diana's speech had started ten minutes ago.  She flipped a switch on her com panel.  "Watchtower, this is Oracle.  Somebody please pick up."

 

 

.......we're almost done.........

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**Alexandra Nigro**