Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 18

Wonder Woman is sitting on the top of the elevator cabin in the dark elevator shaft as the car moves slowly downward. She’d pushed the button for the basement and quickly climbed up through the service door in the cab’s roof, grimacing with the stinging pain from the bullet wound in her side.

This wasn’t much of a ruse, but it was all she could do for now. After a long minute’s descent, the cab comes to a halt and the steel door slides open. The Amazon listens fiercely for any sound of footsteps or ambush. She can hear nothing. Carefully, slowly, she climbs back down into the elevator cab and stops the sliding door just before it closes. It retreats back and Wonder Woman quickly spins out of the elevator to her left, scanning the room for danger. There’s no one around. She appears to be in some kind of storage room. It’s filled with shelves of beakers, oscilloscopes, Bunsen burners, empty petri dishes, centrifuges, bottles of all shapes and sizes and colors and more. On a nearby bottom shelf, she spots two gallon jugs of Elimanol. Circumstantial evidence that would help build a case against him, but the point seemed moot at the moment since Pascal had tried to kill or maim her at least three times since she entered his house.

While walking toward the Elimanol jugs, Wonder Woman scans the room in all directions, in front, behind her, through the steel shelving on both sides of her, constantly looking for an ambush. Where had this guy gone? Then she notices a door with a small inset window off twenty feet to her right. It looks to be a walk-in freezer based on the long, wide handle and the steel hinges.

As she stands in the center of the room considering what danger the freezer represented, the Champion of All Women frowns. Speaking of coldness, she feels a sudden draft between her ass cheeks. The acid has finally worn through the cloth of her briefs leaving a generous gap that reveals her butt hole. And once it continues to eat away at her costume, Wonder Woman’s most intimate parts will be exposed to anyone coming up from her rear. But it’s not her rear at the moment that’s most at risk.

From high overhead, the one place the Amazon hadn’t looked, a weighted nylon net swiftly drops down upon her from the 15-foot high ceiling. It fully encompasses the surprised beauty just as the freezer door is flung open and the French professor bull rushes the captive Amazon.

“You are just too easy, Wonder Woman,” declares a sprinting Pascal from a mere 10 feet away.

“As are you, professor,” replies the famous champion as she tears apart the nylon webbing like some flimsy paper napkin. When the shocked Frenchman stops and fires the tazer at his intended victim, it’s child’s play for her to block the flying pointed leads with her bracelets. They never get near to contacting her body.

“Merde!” Pascal turns and dashes back toward the freezer door in a panic now but Wonder Woman flings the netting away and closes the short distance between them with her god-given speed. She wraps her arms around him and squeezes hard. Pascal screams in pain as she flings him to the left with a snarl. He falls awkwardly to the floor and slides up against a row of steel shelving. He’s barely on his feet again before the enraged Amazon princess stands before him and grabs his left wrist to twist it up and behind his back. Before she can effect that maneuver, however, the Frenchman swings a big brown bottle from behind his back that he’d swiped off the shelf behind him while getting to his feet. Too late Diana sees a large brown shape come out of nowhere. It connects with her forehead and shatters, stunning the raven haired beauty badly.

The gray-bearded Frenchman takes a very adroit step back and then another, watching the Amazon waver in place as her head drips with the contents of the big bottle. Her system is inundated, her costume saturated, her physical acumen eliminated – all by a massive dosing of pungent, sweet-smelling, debilitating chloroform.

“...whhuuuuuhhhh....?....” Diana is bewildered and alarmed at how the tables had been turned against her so suddenly. She had been winning just moments ago. Now she was confused and dizzy. She sees Pascal walk over to some black thing on the floor and bend down and pick it up, then turn back toward her. He’s a mere five feet away from her. He points his arm at her. And she puts up a palm to fend off whatever he’s going to use to attack her. This time though, she’s too dazed to stop the tazer and it hits home in her hip and thigh, sinking into her skin and shorting out her body’s ability to function. She spasms, twists and falls to the cement floor, her body gyrating and bucking in the helpless hold of Pascal’s weapon. She grimaces in a rictus of pain from the prison cell of electrical force that completely negates all her Amazon prowess. Diana jerks and froths and shudders on the floor at Pascal’s feet until the charge is finished and her tits have bounced out again out of her ruined uniform. Her body refuses to obey a single command now as her fingers twitch, her eyes blink and her legs jerk and skitter to some unheard tune on the Devil’s own flute. And her breasts: they jiggle and wiggle and offer bobbing invitations to the smiling Frenchman standing over her that he may caress them and fondle them and oil them up with his own devil’s mixture: his chemical neural inhibitor.

And so he takes up their invitations. Donning a pair of clear rubber gloves from his pants pocket, the beaming Frenchman squats down and pulls a vial of his chemical neural neutralizing agent from a leather holder on his belt. He uncaps the rubber stopper and pours a small puddle of the toxic agent into his palm. And then he lowers that palm and places it on a helpless Wonder Woman’s right breast and smears the thin gel all over and around the large fleshy globe. He coats the tit completely, smoothing the cool liquid in small circles against the pale exposed flesh, rubbing it over the nipple, and sliding it along the bottom of the heavy milk sack until the breast gleams with the devastating concoction in the overhead fluorescent light.

And the mighty Wonder Woman can do nothing to prevent it. She can merely quake and quiver in place, her body betraying her screaming mind as it can only lie in place and be subjected to such mortifying affronts as Pascal takes his liberties with her to his heart’s desire. He then proceeds to empty the rest of the vial into his palm again and coat her left breast with the witches brew he has developed. He is no less thorough with this breast, his hand a wide warming tool that cups, squeezes, rolls and smears away at her fat, weighty orb with total impunity. Wonder Woman’s eyes are glazed with anger, fear and confusion as her breasts are man-handled at will while she can do nothing but twitch.

“You thought you were so powerful, so indestructible, so unbeatable, did you not, Wonder Woman? You super heroines always start out that way. But you all end up like this, bitch. At my mercy, unable to defend yourself. Available for easy sexual domination. But let us be sure everything is done properly and completely, yes?”

Uncapping the rubber stopper from the second vial in his leather belt holder, the smiling Frenchman pours a dollop of this new mixture into his palm and then lowers his hand and cups Wonder Woman’s exposed crotch. Her body jerks in angry reaction but it’s an uncontrollable spasm that is easily countered by Pascal who simply grabs a clump of his captive’s hair and leans over to look directly in the horrified heroine’s eyes as he squeezes her sex, fingers it and rubs his vile solution all over, in and around the whimpering champion’s privates.

Indeed, the acid has worn away the fabric completely and it’s an easy matter for Pascal to firmly caress and stroke and tickle and pat the rubbery nether lips of the Amazon beauty with a generous application of his electrical neural inhibitor. It’s a simple matter to slide his finger into her undefended pussy and circle it slowly in her channel of love. And she can do nothing but lie on the floor in his firm grasp, look into his eyes mere inches away from hers and see the reflection of her defeat.

“I do not know why you play the coquette so, mon cherie,” Pascal taunts, his warm breath caressing her lips like a lovers. “You must know what I have done with the others I will do ten-fold to you. This lovely tunnel of passion here will be entertaining me and my toys for hour upon hour, Wonder Woman.” He squeezes her crotch and gives it a gentle shake and then a long lingering caress. “How could you even think it would be otherwise? To tell you the truth, I thought you might be more of a challenge, but it turns out, you are little better than the others. In fact, when it comes to your fighting acumen, you seem to come in dead last!”

With the spasming heroine’s pussy now well-lubricated by a second application of the electrical inhibitor and her breasts shining in the open air with the chemical version, the mighty Amazon princess of Theymiscira begins to feel the effects of the tazer slowly wearing off. In a few minutes, if Pascal isn’t totally vigilant, Wonder Woman thinks she’ll be able to surprise him, turn the tables on him and...and...and...

And what? Suddenly, she can’t think of what she had been planning just seconds ago. All she can think is that she’s in some kind of big trouble. And this man was the reason. And she didn’t think she’d be able to stop him. Even though she was Wonder Woman. How strange!

Confused, Wonder Woman lies on her right side in a small empty area of Dr. Rene Pascal’s storage room. Her exposed left breast sags into her right which is pressed up against the cold cement floor. She feels funny. Not a good funny. A bad funny. And her naked breasts feel all tingly; not from the cold cement but from something else. They’re all slimy and a bit numb. And she can’t stop herself from jerking and twitching which makes her tits shimmy and jiggle but she can’t help it. And she thinks she bit her tongue. Then she feels a tug as two pointy things are pulled from her body.

What hit me? Tazzle? Tuzor? No...not right. Taser! That’s it.

The Amazon’s thoughts are extremely muddled and her body is still not hers to command. She lies inertly, trying to think of what had been on her mind mere moments before. She can’t fetch it back now.

Befuddled and lethargic, the beautiful Themysciran’s plans for retaliation against her foe have been blown away by the neural inhibitors that have been smeared all over her breasts and fingered into her pussy. Like a vaporous cloud of mist in a stiff wind, her thoughts have been blown completely away.

And then the torpid, defenseless heroine feels Pascal’s hand slide under her left buttock. The smooth surface of the clear rubber glove rubs into her ass crack as he gently lifts up the cheek. Wonder Woman’s eyes widen as a cool rounded device of some kind is pressed against her anus. With a hole in her starred briefs where the acid ate away at them, there’s no shiny blue fabric at her crotch to foil his assault.

“...nuh...nnuuuuhhh...nnnnugghhh...” Diana groans in complaint but to no avail, her muscles are still useless to her. One calf flails to the side, the boot clumping dully against the floor. Her neck angles to the side. She can do nothing as a 5-inch-long waxy tube with rounded ends is slowly, forcibly pushed up into her rectum. It moves deeply through her rear passage, pressed high up into her ass. The pressure is only slightly uncomfortable for a moment as she feel’s Pascal’s gloved finger push it into place. Then she feels the warm digit withdrawing from her tight ass until her rectum expels it with a small involuntary contraction.

No thicker than a crayon, the cool stick is deftly lodged securely within her. His other hand releases her buttock and her cheeks slap together with gentle tremors. The beautiful Amazon’s eyes glare up at the face leaning over her but her body is still completely unresponsive, a limp mass of confusion and anger.

“There. That special enema enfeebling stick should do the trick. My own design, of course. Even your amazing Amazon strength will not be able to cope with my special cocktail of depressants and nerve agents, Wonder Woman.”

“...d...di...dom...d..damn...you...p..p...pasclarl...” Diana is barely able to voice a small, garbled measure of her frustration. Her free arm jerks to the side in helpless spasm, incoherently signaled from Wonder Woman’s shocked system. The fingers of the arm pinned under her right side twitch and tap against the floor. Unrestrained by the damaged bustier pulled down around her ribs, the beauty’s generous breasts jiggle and bounce with her tremors. The nipple of her left breast dances in the open air and the suddenly noticed red nub draws a raised, appreciative eyebrow from Pascal and a quick, circling finger.

“...D...Dond...du dat!”

“Ahh, a modicum of your verbal skill is returning. Not so your gross muscle coordination though. Not just yet. So let me take this opportunity while it lasts.” Pascal spits a bit of saliva on his clear, gloved forefinger, the one that hadn’t just been shoved up the Wonder Woman’s ass. He idly circles the slippery spit over and around the nipple causing it to firm up and extend slightly. Much to his delight.


“But your teat is so responsive. Look!” His finger circles even more and then he brings his thumb together with the forefinger and squeezes the firm nipple within the latex-clad digits. The bud lengthens and firms up even more. Pascal’s fingers pull and stretch out the nipple, and then pulls it slowly outward, unrelentingly stretching the breast, forming a large cone of it before letting it snap back. Then he grabs and pinches the nipple and twists it cruelly. Wonder Woman’s back jerks and she almost succeeds at pulling away from him. The Frenchman’s other hand snatches out and grabs the roll of fabric under his prey’s breasts and holds her body in check.

“Ah, ah, cherie. You are still mine to play with yet.” His hand, protected from his oily neural inhibitors by the clear latex, encircles her tit and mauls it slowly, squeezing it and plying its firm fleshy mass while the other hand keeps her figure held in place.

“...eehhnnhh...nuh..n..n..no....NO..!...” Diana is angry and frustrated and sad that she can’t fight back, that her body isn’t doing what she wants it to. Why not?

“These breasts are such a source of pride for you, Wonder Woman. So large and round. So beautifully shaped. So firm and perfect. And yet here you are, unable to protect them from my intimate caresses, my hard painful squeezing....”

“Aagghh!” Diana’s back arches from his sudden pincer-like grip, her eyes tearing with the sudden sharp torment.

“...and my playful game of peekaboo.” Pascal releases her tit and pulls up the upper edge of her bustier with both hands until the fabric unrolls and covers her breasts midway. His hands then grasp both breasts, his roaming palms fondling them and shaking them and compressing their fullness into misshapen fleshy rolls while the helpless Amazon can only lie there before her kneeling tormentor and do nothing. Finally Pascal pulls down her top again to show off just the top of both areolae. “Peakaboo,” he says in falsetto. And then, at last, he covers them up again, leaving the top there, covering up her nakedness for the moment.

Diana’s blue eyes look at him, angry and hurt and depressed in sequence. Her breasts had been played with like party balloons and she couldn’t stop it. That wasn’t nice. That wasn’t fair.


“You incompetent fat-assed has-been. There, now we have exchanged insults. Feel better? No? Ah well, you are right, this is not the time for such games. I shall conduct more experiments on your sensitivity later. And play more games. You know, it is so very astute of you, my compromised friend, to realize this is not the proper moment for such trifles. Quite astute, in fact, considering that even now the considerable heat of your unique Amazon physiology is working against you. Your anal cavity is already activating the quick-dissolving paraffin compound. It is releasing the stick’s chemicals into your bloodstream as we speak. And as that enema enfeebling stick combines with my neural inhibitors, you will go from Champion of All Women to Champion of All Addle-Brained Wobbly-Kneed Bimbos! It is inevitable, mon cherie.”

“...w...will get...you some...h...how...”

“That is very doubtful, mon amie. Now let us get you to your feet.” He pulls up on Wonder Woman’s arm, lifting the ungainly beauty to her knees where she sways in place one hand holding onto a nearby steel shelf to keep her up. She manages to grasp it with her fingers, their clasp almost clawlike as the nerves slowly relearn the proper electrical circuits from brain to body. Slowly, Wonder Woman pulls herself to a very shaky standing position as Pascal takes a step back. She is holding onto the shelving and swaying back and forth, eyes looking at Pascal but still a bit glazed. The tall bearded Frenchman stands before her in his neat suit pants, matching jacket, a white dress shirt open at the collar and no tie. His hands are held out before him with fingers spread and palms up in a gesture of openness.

“Why not try to show me how the mighty Amazon princess can defend herself against a simple French scientist with no super strength, no amazing fighting skills. Nothing but my limited understanding of boxing, eh?”

“..t..turn you into...hambur...ger...meat...”

“And I would be delighted to see you make this effort, you dumb cow,” Pascal leans into her face with a grin. “To tell you the truth, my penis grows stiff with the thought of you trying.”

Diana swings her free fist upward from her waist, aiming to get in a good surprise punch on her tormentor’s chin as his face looms a mere foot and a half in front of her own with its cold mocking leer. He sees it coming a mile away from her clearly telegraphed expression and jerky upswing. He pulls his head back quickly and Wonder Woman’s fist flies right past his face until her arm is upraised above the man’s head. He instantly pins the raised arm against the vertical support bar of the metal shelf and gut punches the unwary heroine.

“GHUNFFF!” Klank!

Her head bangs against the shelf near her waist as she lurches downward with a harsh explosion of breath. She hadn’t been expecting his punch, his uncanny strength, his lightning reflexes. Or was she the one who was slow and weak and...and...not herself.

The punch had doubled her up but as she quickly gets her breath back, she realizes she still has her belt on and that punch surprised more than hurt. In fact, the belt seems to be transferring an extra surge of power to her, trying to compensate for all the drugs in her system. She feels herself regaining even more control of her muscles. She might be able to give this hooligan more than he bargained for. She lets go of the shelving structure that had been keeping her and straightens up and then backs up a step.

I will have to be fast and smart and sneaky. Should try and plan my punches in some good order so I can... What is that he’s got?

Pascal has reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a shiny brass object.

Brass knuckles? Oh great!

The Frenchman slips them on his right hand, steps back into an open space in the storage room and takes a fighting stance, arms out, fists up, a cold smile on his face. The brass around his knuckles gleam under the pale fluorescent light.

“So now, let me see how you will make me into the hamburger meat, Wonder Woman. I am eager to know your recipe.”

The fax machine at the IADC office beeped once with a long, clear tone indicating a message received. Out slid the paper into the carrier tray. From Interpol’s Brussels office, it noted the four companies that produced the unique chemical capable of affecting the neural pathways, the very one that had been found by Murray Banks and noted in his toxicology report. There was also a short list of thirteen companies around the world that purchased the rare chemical in the past year in any quantity. Pascal Research LLC was the ninth company on the list. Unfortunately, Colonel Trevor was indisposed in the bathroom far down the hall reading his favorite newspaper’s sports section in a stall. He did not hear the fax beep. By the time he discovers the fax’s appearance, it will be far too late to be of any worth to Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, Detective Abato, Detective Glendennan, either of the D.C. Medical Examiners or anybody of any importance whatsoever.

Wonder Woman circles slowly to her left, eyeing her bearded six-foot opponent warily. Though she is instinctively falling back on her Amazon warrior training and using the space to measure her distance and the striking range between her and Pascal, her thoughts are fuzzy and her steps are halting scuffles. She almost trips twice simply moving to the side. The Frenchman sees this and smiles at her missteps.

“Having a bit of trouble, cherie?”

“No. I am not.”

“You seemed to have faltered there.”

“You’re wrong. The floor...it’s...umm....uneven.”

“It is perfectly flat. It’s your nerves and skill that are faulty.”

“No. They’re not. I’m fine. Just fine.” Wonder Woman does a basic head feint and sudden fist jerk to test her foe’s reaction. Pascal badly jerks his head back in recoil and throws his left arm up to protect his face before putting his fists back up and circling. It’s Diana’s turn to smile now.

“You’re not good at this, are you, Doctor Pascal? You flinched badly there.”

“It was a ruse.”

“Didn’t look like it. Looked more like a...like a..panicky thing.”

“I do not fear you in the least, you big-nippled cow. I am just thinking how your teats make such excellent targets. Large, easy-to-hit punching bags.” Wonder Woman glances down at her breasts and sees that her nipples are clearly accentuated there, two prominent points beneath the red fabric of her damaged bustier. She blushes slightly. They have not retracted much from Pascal’s earlier stimulation of them. She tries to put her aroused assets out of her mind and pay attention to her foe.

The two contestants circle each other awkwardly as they move into a wider expanse of open floor in the huge storage area. Pascal is unfamiliar with physical confrontations. Wonder Woman is inundated by the neural inhibitors coating her breasts and the enema enfeebling stick slowly melting in her ass and delivering a toxic numbing stew of debilitating nerve agents and mind-numbing drugs. If not for her power belt, she would be on her hands and knees drooling in helpless confusion and total physical exhaustion. As it is, she can’t concentrate or manage her physical capabilities nearly well enough to be much of a threat. She feels this but tries to put up a brave front to her adversary.

“You’re the one who’s going to be the punching bag, Pascal. You should give up now before you embarrass yourself.”

“I’ll take my chances in a fair fight with the famous Wonder Woman.”

“Fair? You think everything you’ve done to me...my body...to my..my chest...is fair? You’re nothing but a..a..creep, Pascal. That’s what you are and I...I’m going to bring you to...to..um..jail...to take you in and...and show you what justice is....justice...for my friends.”

“That is quite a speech for someone whose mental agility is limited even at the best of times, my dear. You should be very proud that you got it all out as coherently as you did, Wonder Woman. You’re not quite the slow, dim-witted stooge I expected you would be. And, as for your friends, were you referring to those three pitiful brain-dead skanks that I fucked like cheap whores and then killed on a whim? Oh, gosh, were they friends of yours? I did not realize.”

Pascal’s eyes shine with malicious intent. He’s enjoying his taunting of the Amazon immensely. Her face is tense now, rigid with horror and concentration as she stares at him and stops circling for a moment, transfixed in her shock.

“Because, you know, cherie, when I was forcing my cock down their superheroine throats, they failed to mention that. But I should have known it since they were so pitifully inept at fighting. So easy to defeat and humiliate. So simple to fill their mouths, asses and cunts to dripping excess with my cum loads. Did you help train them, Wonder Woman? I would hope not.”

“You...You animal! You filthy....disgusting...perverted...bad...bad....man.....” Wonder Woman’s body is a tense coiled spring, ready to strike out in rage. But she just stands there, quivering with outrage.

“Are you going to throw an actual punch or just continue your childish verbal sparring, you drippy cunt?” Pascal sees Wonder Woman’s eyelids flicker and droop slightly as the steady influx of toxins in her system assaults her senses. He goads her further with a nasty leer. “Come on, you overrated moronic twat, just try to avenge the sweet, lingering ass-plowing I delivered to your three bungling heroine girlfriends! I don’t think you can do it.”

Wonder Woman lunges forward, her dulled mind flooded with rage and hate at the words of this callous monster. She aims to beat him to a pulp. But the French scientist has baited the mentally-impaired Amazon beautifully. As she rushes at him with her fists clenched tightly and arms swinging wildly at his head, her Amazon training all but negated by his drugs and his taunts, he lowers his left shoulder and turns it to her, ducks his head and drives his arm like a karate punch with all his force into her solar plexus just as he’d practiced with Battle Axe for hours. He might not have been able to train out the bad flinching that he suffered but his fist strike had definitely been well-honed.

The hard brass knuckles and ramrod fist slam with incredibly focused force into Wonder Woman’s mid-section with a resounding thump of metal striking vulnerable flesh.

“GHHUUUNNNFFFFF!” Wonder Woman bends in half, falling backward onto her rear end, with her legs flying up and her back flopping back in awkward gasping pain. Even as her feminine treasures blink with a flashing gleam of pink in her ungainly sprawl, her head strikes against the hard concrete floor. All the air has been driven right out of her lungs and she lies in place with her eyes bulging, her arms curled over her belly and a high whistling wheeze filling the air. A normal person would have been completely disabled by such a crushing blow. Dazed by the knock to her head and recovering from the punch, Amazon warrior sucks in air and gathers her minimal wits and raises her head to look at Pascal dancing on his toes back and forth, beaming with delight and eyeing Wonder Woman’s exposed pussy

“Yes, I put you on your back with one punch, bitch. How do you like that, you sanctimonious cow?” Pascal stops his dancing and puts his hands on his hips, imitating her power pose.

“I’m just so pretty!” Pascal tosses out a passable Mohammed Ali impression and stands there glowing with satisfaction.

“...eeeeezz....hoooooooop....eeeeeezz....” After about 20 seconds of wheezing, a debilitated Wonder Woman finally gets her breath back and raspily gives her answer as she sits up. “...l...luck....lucky punch...you...cheater.....”

“Hardly lucky, you fat sow. I have been training for you, Not-So-Wonderful Woman. You can’t touch me, cherie.”

Diana pulls herself to her knees and then to a wobbling uneasy stance before Pascal who’s back to dancing on his toes again, bobbing left to right, showing off. Her left hand massages circles on her stomach before she finally gets into an attack position, presenting the least body target possible, standing with her side to Pascal, arms cocked, fingers pointed forward into hard spades, ready to jab outward. It would be an imposing sight if the Amazon weren’t wavering awkwardly, her eyes dull, her hair in disarray, her nipples once again showing over the sagging fabric of her badly-damaged bustier and her tongue overlapping her lower lip with a dopey expression on her face.

“...ya...won’t...catch me like that...like that.again...F....F..,Frenchy...” she stammers. She feels the draft on her nipples and pulls the fabric up to cover them. Then to counteract that embarrassment, she tries for a daunting effect and jabs her left hand out and withdraws it quickly. In doing so, she ineptly pokes herself in the ribs with her own elbow.

“..ughh...” she grunts and frowns. Pascal puts on a fake pout and steps back.

“I can see that I am going to have to be at my very best to meet such a challenge as yours, my dear. Tres formidable!” He concludes in sarcastic French. “Very well, come teach me my manners.”

“No, I don’t think so, fuzz-face.”

That’s not a good insult at all! I used to be so much better at this. Why can’t I get it together here?

“No, Pascal, you...uh...you come to me...if you dare challenge the....the might... yes, the might...of an Amazon.”

“But that would be madness!” Pascal’s eyes twinkle. “Still, I cannot resist a challenge so boldly stated by one so clearly ravished. No, sorry, so ravishing!” More twinkling mirth in his eyes creates a frown on the befuddled face of the dulled beauty before him. But before she can figure out that she is the butt of his sarcasm and taunts, Pascal speaks again and takes what appears to be a hesitant step forward. “That is all there is to it, then. I shall attempt to breech your defenses and strike you down, harlot.”

Wonder Woman feels her belt sending another small jolt of strength through her. It’s not like her old self at full power but it’s a welcome flush of confidence. She straightens up slightly, wavering less, waiting to repel any attack he may launch, thinking of her options.

Have to hit him back hard. Maybe in his stomach. See how he likes it, the big bully.

Pascal steps forward again and then suddenly spins off to his left and goes for a hard left cross to Wonder Woman’s jaw, his arm lashing out directly at her face. She blocks this with an upraised right arm, her feminum bracelet flashing under the overhead light as his blow is brushed aside, passing behind her head as he lunges awkwardly in his effort to connect. Diana smiles. She’s not so defenseless after all.

The right uppercut that he launches from in close she doesn’t expect, doesn’t see, and is far too late to parry. The left had been a diversion. The crunching right fist, circled in brass, connects with Wonder Woman’s jaw and her head snaps back with the force. Her pupils roll in toward the center of her face before sliding up under her lids a bit even as her body succumbs to gravity. The Amazon princess drops to her knees with her butt resting on her calves. One palm is flat against the cement floor barely holding her up and the other is flexed around her jaw.

“.....ohhhhhhh....Hera.....uuuuuuggghhhhhh....whadda...punch....” Wonder Woman works her jaw back and forth. If not for her belt, it would be shattered and she flat on her back. As it is, she’s too woozy to even get back onto her feet for the moment.

“It appears that the might of the Amazon just might not be all that mighty, eh, cherie?”

“...huh..?...what...?...” Wonder Woman’s heavily-lidded eyes look up at Pascal filled with confusion.

“I am reciting poetry to a baboon. No matter. Back on your feet, Princess. You have to teach me the folly of challenging your astounding warrior prowess, remember?”

Rising again to her feet, Diana swivels her neck, straightens her back and gets back into her fighting stance. “I do remember and so...so shall you, you..uhh..insolent little...pipsqueak.”

Still weak, but better, Di!

Pascal smirks as he puts his fists back up and takes a step forward to jab at Wonder Woman’s head. It falls far short but it wasn’t meant to really connect. He’s just working on distracting and disorienting the addled heroine. Another jab forward makes her step back and she moves to her right. The sparring pair has moved into tighter confines of the basement room. Large, three-foot high blue plastic storage bins line the floor. Five of the six-foot long bins are lined up end-to-end. Wonder Woman backs up against the middle one, the back of her thighs pressing against the cool plastic surface. Surprised, she turns her head slightly to glance down at the object and Pascal sees his chance. The first punch, a driving left jab goes right at her pelvis. With the flash of a bracelet-clad wrist, it is parried to the side by a speedy downward movement. As before the first punch is a diversion for the second, a nasty right cross aimed directly at the inviting target of the Amazon’s left breast. The brass knuckles are aimed directly at her nipple, Pascal’s arm rocketing forward at full power. But the Amazon’s quick reaction time, while not anywhere near bullet-deflecting speed, is still enough to block Pascal’s hurtling fist. Brass meets feminum at full force.

KLAAAAAANNNGGGG! The hellish bell-ish sound reverberates loudly in the room but Wonder Woman is grinning at her small victory here.

“You’re out of your depth, doctor.” She easily blocks his sudden ambushing left uppercut, her eyes boring into his with a gleam of obvious satisfaction as he backs off.

“Am I? We shall see,” he replies coldly. Then, stepping forward again, Pascal launches a formidable attack at her, his jaw set with clear determination. The tall Frenchman throws a steady barrage of combinations at her, a variety of menacing punches with deadly intent. A right jab, a left cross, a right uppercut, a left jab. He is relentless. The punches rain down but each thrusting attempt is swiftly parried. Each one is instantly nullified. Each one is more frantically and wildly launched than the one before. Pascal is wailing away at his raven-haired adversary and he can do no harm. His frustration level is through the roof and he’s panting with the effort. The Champion of All Women is all smiles as her arms move up and down, side to side, blocking all his effort with grace and style. Wonder Woman’s belt has filled her with surging strength. Her instincts are sharp though her mind is still somewhat slowed. When Pascal takes a step back, his face flushed and angry, his chest heaving, Diana senses a shift in the momentum of their struggle. She feels a sense of relief as well having weathered his stormy onslaught. And it’s not just this squall of fists she’s thinking about but everything she’s endured since she climbed through his window. For the first time, she doesn’t feel like she’s on the defensive now. Even though she’s been doing nothing but defending herself for the last minute of his barrage of fist, she feels ready to launch an offensive of her own.

However, Pascal still seems intent on trying to batter through her guard. His breath regained, he swipes his sweaty arm with his forearm. Sweat circles ring his underarms, the dress shirt damp and clingy. His suit jacket and pants are a bit rumpled from all the physical effort, but the professor’s eyes only bespeak a hint of tiredness to Diana. There’s still a fiery hate burning there.

“What have I done to you to make you hate me so?”

“You exist, bitch.”

With that, Pascal charges forward, launching a huge left hook at her face. Her right hand snaps up and catches his fist in her hand with a smacking noise that sounds like someone suddenly breaking a large stick over their knee.

“Aren’t you getting tired of this, Pascal?” The proud blue eyes challenge him boldly as his fist shakes and quivers in her grip. When he attempts a violent right hook at her chest, Wonder Woman intercepts that neatly as well, this time grabbing his wrist and freezing it in place before the brass knuckles get within six inches from her thrusting chest.

The adversaries stand together under the overhead fluorescent lights, locked in combat. Pascal is struggling mightily to break the grip that the powerful Amazon has on both his arms. He can’t do it. He’s thinking it might have been a mistake to take her on in hand-in-to-hand combat: might have been if not for his brilliance at brain science. This woman’s instincts might still be sharp but her mind was still compromised. He uses that against her.

“Looks like a standoff, Princess. Care to make a deal? You let my hands go and I don’t blow a hole in this nation’s capital with my little nuclear dirty bomb in that storage bin just under that shapely ass of yours?” He nods at the bin behind her.

Diana’s victory smile fades to a grim glare at Pascal then brightens back into a smirk.

“Hard to set off a bomb with your hands previously engaged, you foolish man.” She tightens her grip on him to be sure and he grimaces from the added pressure.

“Not with a timer set to go off in under 10 minutes, cherie. Hands free device. It goes boom no matter what. I had it all prepared in case you proved to be harder to handle than I expected. You can check the readout for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

End of Part 18