Steve led them through the dim streets until they stopped outside a crowded tavern. Laughter, shouting, and the smell of strong alcohol spilled out through the open door.
Inside, the place was packed with soldiers, dockworkers, and men trying to forget the war for a few hours.
Steve moved straight toward a table in the corner where two men were already drinking.
One of them stood as soon as he saw Steve.
"Well look who crawled out of the grave," the man said with a grin.
This was Sameer—sharp dressed despite the worn surroundings, a charming smile on his face.
"Sameer," Steve said, shaking his hand. "Good to see you."
Sameer glanced past him and immediately noticed Diana.
"Oh, this is already a much more interesting evening," he said.
Steve ignored the comment and gestured to the other man sitting at the table.
Charlie sat hunched over a glass, his rifle leaning beside his chair.
"Charlie," Steve said, "I need your help."
Charlie didn't look up immediately.
"I don't shoot anymore," he muttered.
"You're the best shot I know."
"That's exactly the problem."
Steve leaned forward. "Ludendorff is developing a new gas weapon. If it's deployed, entire towns could disappear overnight. I'm putting together a team to hit the facility before it's ready."
Charlie slowly lifted his eyes.
"So you want us to walk into the war and steal the devil's own weapon."
"Something like that."
Sameer leaned back in his chair.
"I'm in," he said casually.
Steve raised an eyebrow. "You didn't even hear the full plan."
Sameer shrugged. "My acting career ended when the war started. Turns out London theatres don't cast men with my accent. A little espionage work sounds much more exciting."
Charlie took a long drink before finally speaking.
"If we're doing this," he said quietly, "we'll need money. Weapons. Transport."
Steve exhaled.
"That part… I'm still figuring out."
At that moment the tavern door opened again.
A tall, well-dressed man stepped inside, his presence immediately noticeable among the rough crowd.
Sir Patrick Morgan.
He approached their table calmly.
"Captain Trevor," he said.
Steve stood up, surprised. "Sir Patrick."
Sir Patrick glanced briefly at the others—his eyes resting on Diana and Daniel for a moment longer than necessary.
"I understand the committee rejected your proposal."
"Yes, sir."
Sir Patrick lowered his voice slightly.
"Officially, I must agree with their decision. Politically, the situation is… delicate."
Steve frowned. "Then why are you here?"
Sir Patrick reached into his coat and placed a small envelope on the table. The weight of it was unmistakable.
Money.
"Because sometimes," he said calmly, "the right course of action cannot be taken officially."
Sameer whistled softly.
Charlie leaned forward slightly.
Sir Patrick continued.
"If Ludendorff truly possesses this weapon, someone must stop him before it is unleashed."
Steve nodded slowly.
"We will."
Sir Patrick gave him a brief approving look.
"Good." With that, he turned and left.
Daniel did not try to stop him. He already knew who the man truly was—Ares, the god of war and the hidden hand behind the conflict.
But this was not the moment to interfere. Diana still needed time. She needed to witness humanity in all its contradictions—the cruelty and the kindness alike. Only then would she understand the world she had chosen to protect.
If Daniel intervened now, the course of things might change too much, and she might never become the hero she was destined to be—Wonder Woman.
So he simply watched Ares leave and made no move to follow.
"So who are these people?" Sameer asked, leaning back in his chair while studying Diana and Daniel with open curiosity. "They look like they belong on a stage rather than the place we're going."
Steve cleared his throat.
"Umm… they're the help I found for this mission," he said.
That was the safest explanation he could manage.
There was no way he could tell them that one is the god of death, and the other might very well be something far from human.
Sameer tilted his head slightly.
"Well," he said thoughtfully, "the lady certainly looks like she could command an army."
His eyes moved to Daniel.
"And him… he looks like a man who knows more than he says."
Daniel gave him a casual smile.
"I get that a lot."
Charlie, who had been quietly observing from his seat, finally spoke.
"If they're coming with us," he said slowly, "I hope they know what they're walking into."
Diana met his gaze without hesitation.
"I do."
A rough voice suddenly cut through the noise of the tavern.
"Huh… what's a woman doing here?" a drunken soldier slurred as he staggered closer to their table. "Hey woman, why don't you come with—"
He reached out and placed his hand on Diana's shoulder.
The next moment happened so quickly most people barely saw it.
Diana's hand snapped up, twisting his wrist aside. With a sharp movement she turned his arm, shifted her weight, and threw him across the room.
The man crashed into the wooden wall with a loud bang, sliding down in a stunned heap.
The tavern went silent for a second.
Sameer slowly leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised.
"Wow," he said, impressed. "That lady has more power in that little arm than most men in this place."
Charlie glanced toward the unconscious drunk on the floor, then back at Diana.
"To throw a full-grown man like that…" he muttered. "Even for a soldier that's not easy."
"Well," Daniel said calmly, glancing at the unconscious drunk on the floor, "he tried picking someone far out of his league."
He shook his head slightly.
"Poor bastard. Of all the women in this room… he had to mess with Diana."
*****
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