The streets of D.C. buzzed with their usual rhythm until an armored truck came roaring through the avenue, weaving wildly between cars. Inside, mercenaries shouted orders, clutching a terrified Capitol staffer as their hostage.
The truck suddenly screeched to a halt. Standing calmly in its path was Diana of Themyscira, one hand on her hip, head tilted in quiet amusement. “You’ve had a very busy morning,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Let’s end it here.”
The driver slammed the accelerator, but the truck lurched to a stop as Diana’s palm met the hood, metal bending under her touch. “That wasn’t very polite,” she murmured, smiling faintly. A mercenary leaned out with a gun, but every bullet was deflected in perfect rhythm, sparks flashing from her bracelets. Then her golden lasso shot forward, wrapping neatly around the gunman and yanking him out like a misbehaving child.
Diana opened the door, guiding the hostage free. “You’re safe now,” she said gently, giving a small, reassuring wink. “They’re far more bark than bite.”
