Deadman is a sly corpse!

The two consolette limousines closed their doors and immediately left the entrance to the Halls of Justice, the reporters surrounding the vehicles were mostly left ignored save to avoid hitting the cameramen moving aside to let them pass and head out into the traffic filled roads. Making their way back to the ship at Washington harbour, both vehicles made little attention amongst the throng of cars taking up the lanes of asphalt. Looking out the tinted windows of the limo to the outside streets, Queen Hippolyta could see groups of people walking to and from shops and stores and restaurants, some hand in hand. Furrowing her brow, it confused her why they acted this way, the men of this land. Dragging these poor women with them by the hand, forcing them to smile and laugh as they went to such gaudy looking markets. Not one of them wore vestments worthy of being warriors, none of them. Opting to wear garish looking clothing that demanded the eye’s attention and nothing else. All of them appeared so… Weakened, broken, defeated. Could they even lift a blade let alone wield it?

She shook her head at the matter before her attention fell to her two advisors sitting opposite from her in the horseless carriage they had been provided by her daughter. At least four of her praetorian guards sat with their shields and spears in their laps in the comfortable interior seating, each with various looks of disgust at what had happened in the Hall. It wasn’t surprising that sooner or later her advisors would finally speak up on the matter.

“Why are we leaving? WHY are we simply letting them LIVE after what that… That… FILTH did?”

“I agree your highness, this was an err on your daughter’s better judgement, peace with these animals is impossible! They should be dealt with before they cause ANY more harm to womenkind.”

“You embarrass me Ocypete.” The Queen stated simply, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as her eyes continue to view outside the glass pang of the window and the city streets outside. “Diana has done nothing but tell me feats both humble and inspiring of this… ‘Justice League’, especially of the Superman who greeted us to their Halls. And you struck one of them.”

Trading looks, the two amazon generals leaned back in their cushioned seating, still bristling from the events minutes earlier. “SUPER man… Bah. His name implies he’s the greatest of them all, yet one look into his eyes told me he was a peasant in king’s clothing.”

“He would be better off on a farm milking cattle than posing as that afront to Zeus.”

“Wheat…”

Turning their attention to one of their guards listening intently, the lone Amazonian guard was the only one there that did not seem upset or angered. Instead, she sat there, twiddling her thumbs together as her eyes shifted between the Queen and her two generals sitting at opposite ends of the limousine, nervously as she found she was the center of attention. Not seeing them turn away, the dark-haired woman stroked at her braided ponytail draped over her shoulder and made a face of worry.

“He’s from Kansas, he’s got a wheat farm out there. If the guy’s been doin anything when he’s not flyin around, its makin bran muffins.”

“Seripha, what in Hera’s name are you talking about?!”

“Yes… And did you bite your tongue? You sound strange.”

Shrugging her shoulders and looking out the window, the guard slowly turned her attention out the window. “Uhm… Nothing?”

Confused with the woman’s odd behaviour, Aello decided to ignore her actions and continued where Ocypete left off. “None of this would be necessary had it not been for that unfaithful day that pig washed up on our shores years ago.”

“Indeed… Had your daughter not intervene in the prosecution of that man, that… Steve Trevor. We would not be humouring breaking bread and sipping wine with these insufferable animals.”

“This is the world we live in now sisters.” Stated the Queen, just as the limo stopped at a red light, giving her a view of the pedestrians crossing the street. “Our isolation from Man’s World could not hold up forever. Their curiosity, their desire to conquer has finally led them to us... Even Mount Olympus was once scaled, my sisters.”

“And THEY were punished with eternal imprisonment in Hades!” Hisses Aello. “I swear in the name of Artemis, had WE gotten to that man before your daughter, he would have known the consequences of violating Amazonian law!”

Up ahead, the two limousines made their way to the dockyard where their ship sat in dock. Ancient in design, and likely centuries old. The wooden vessel was guarded by the rest of Hippolyta’s guards who kept an unwavering eye on the rest of the port where other vessels came and went that dwarfed their vessel in both size, design, and majesty. And yet the warship was a sight to behold none the less. A kind not seen in pristine condition since the day it was constructed by the shipwrights of ancient Greece.

Stepping out of the vehicle, the Queen and her entourage made their way out and stood to attention, eyeing the drivers who bowed nervously as they too stepped out of their vehicles to wish their clients a farewell, and from the eye contact they gave, silently regretted even getting out of their vehicles. Breathing in the smells of the shore and making a face of disgust, the Queen made a simple gesture with her hand and her guards marched forward down the port back to their vessel.

“Our time here has been overextended; I wish to return to the paradise of our native shores instead of this filthy beachhead. Amazons! March!”

Everyone there tried to look away or quickly get out of the procession of armed and armored women who made their way down the dock path to their ship. Eager not to get their attention, despite how beautiful their appearances were. Days earlier a dock worker catcalled one of them on his break and hadn’t awoken in the hospital yet. Making it clear to the port staff to avoid them and don’t get in the way.

Just as the last of the amazons stepped onto the deck of their ship, one of the guards shivered and stopped in her tracks, looking around confused as if she didn’t know where she was.

“Seripha.” Called out one of the crew of the vessel, eyeing the royal guard with curiosity as she bundled rope in her arm, ready to push off from the dock. “Did we forget something on the shores of Man’s world?”

“I… Nevermind…”

Unseen by either woman as they prepared to leave, an invisible man floated above their heads, scratching his chin, deep in thought after what he heard in the car. He wore all red, as bright as rich blood and yet his skin was as pale and dry as chalk, his eyes colourless, devoid of the spark of life behind them. But deep in thought none the less. Boston Brand the Deadman had left Bruce’s body after the fiasco at the Halls of Justice and possessed one of the guards to keep an eye on them. What he got in the car was more than enough for him to hatch a plan. It was risky, it was dangerous, but it just might work.

With a smirk, the ghost flew off.

*

Four blocks away from the city harbour, the local mortician yawned into his gloved hand as he looked up at the clock overhead.

The latest to lay on the steel cold table was a homeless man found DOA after being picked up in the alleys. A John Doe, he had no identifiable papers on his person save a few dollars and lint in his pockets, along with an empty bottle of thunderbird. Freshly dead, the homeless man’s skin was pale and sickly. A dishevelled beard and haggard mop of hair showed how poorly the state he was in before his passing. It took the mortician at least an hour or more to clean the body off and another hour to open him up and check how he had died. Heart attack, he later determined.

“Damn what a slow day, sorry fella, looks like you are our only occupant for tonight. Though some would see that as a silver lining.”

Placing his folded belongings on a nearby tray and sowing his chest back up after the autopsy had been completed and filed, the man stepped out of the sterile cold room to go to the next and sit for a drink.

“Do the day shift they said, take a load off from nights they said. Though they never told me how BORING it is. Damn I need a drink.”

Turning on the television to watch the last bits of the baseball game going on and pouring himself a glass of bourbon, he never saw the body behind him through the thick, grated window suddenly sit up and check himself over. Findings clothes in a basket nearby, the corpse got himself dressed and plucked the toe-tag off his foot before slipping on shoes. Checking his reflection in a small mirror next to a collection of bloody scalpels used to cut him open earlier, the body found a shaver and cleaned his appearance up. With the shave done, he smirked and nodded just as he went through the door and stepped out into the hallway. Heading down the hall, he and the mortician caught sight of each other from the break room’s open door. The John Doe, now dressed and clean shaven standing frozen looking back at the mortician who still had the glass of bourbon at his lips staring back at him in shock.

“Oooh, mind if I get a swig of that?”

Stepping inside and snatching the glass from the mortician’s hand, Boston drank it down in one gulp and exhaled.

“DAMN! That’s the GOOD stuff that burns down so good! Thanks pal, I owe ya.”

Setting the glass down, the corpse left the break room and exited the building. Leaving the mortician to look at the hallway door, the empty glass, and the remaining bourbon still on the table. Without saying a word, he picked it up and emptied it in the sink.

*

Making his way back to the dockyards on foot, Deadman grinned as he found the ancient wooden vessel had yet to leave port. Though no longer anchored and tied down, it slowly drifted away from the platform where oars could be seen slowly being extended for them to row out into open waters and back to their island of Themyscira. Not one of them noticed a raggedy looking man jump into the water and swim his way towards the ship. Grabbing hold of one of the yard lines, Boston pulled himself out from the water and made sure to keep out of sight as he perched himself just under the port of the ship between the rudder and captain quarters of Queen Hippolyta’s personal flag ship.

“Okay… First step of my brilliant plan, don’t get caught.” Looking down at the waters just a foot away from his shoes as he hung on for dear life on the rope he had wrapped around his arms, Boston winced. “Step two? Don’t take on water BEFORE I make it to dry land.