Because Steve Trevor had stolen Dr. Maru's notebook, and because she did not possess a flawless photographic memory, she had lost the version of the gas formula closest to completion.
At this moment—
Inside her laboratory, Dr. Isabel Maru paced like an ant on a hot pan, desperately trying to reconstruct the formula from memory.
Failure.
Again and again.
Crumpled drafts piled high across the floor.
"Damn that spy!"
Another sheet was crushed and thrown aside in fury.
After personally shooting an officer who dared suggest a ceasefire break for dinner, General Erich Ludendorff pushed open the laboratory door—
Only to be struck squarely by one of Maru's discarded paper balls.
"My apologies, General. I didn't mean—"
Well aware of Ludendorff's brutality, the anger in her eyes cleared instantly. She lowered her head in submission.
"It's fine."
"How goes the progress?"
Ludendorff had always shown patience toward true talent—especially someone he regarded as a "war machine."
He bent down, picked up the paper, and approached her calmly.
"It's not working."
"There's no hope left, General."
"Germany has lost the momentum. Hindenburg's armistice is about to be signed."
Maru's tone carried bleak resignation.
"No!"
"As long as the High Command sees our new weapon, they will never agree to peace!"
Bang!
Ludendorff slammed the table, flattening the crumpled paper into a thin disc.
"But without the notebook… I can't complete it."
"Isabel. Look at me."
He seized her face firmly, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Listen. I will retrieve that notebook."
"And that damned spy."
"And you—"
"I believe in you, Isabel. Not the notebook."
"Now. Rephrase that."
His voice softened.
His fingers traced the unscarred half of her face before lifting her chin possessively.
Since her disfigurement from toxic exposure, she had not felt such physical heat—nor such stirring in her heart.
Her eyes fluttered half-closed, almost instinctively leaning into his calloused palm like a submissive cat.
"Even without the notebook… I can finish the formula."
"It will just take time…"
Her voice turned breathy, tilting her masked face upward in unmistakable suggestion.
"Good."
"I know you can succeed. You will succeed."
"You were born to create the weapon that will rewrite this war."
With that—
He turned her face aside, somewhat roughly.
A flicker of disappointment crossed her eyes—but vanished quickly.
After all, the ecstasy of scientific triumph surpassed any fleeting bodily pleasure.
There was no symphony sweeter than the screams of "lab subjects" dissolving beneath her gas.
Her composure returned.
From her experimental table, she pushed forward a small object she had devised the previous night.
A sealed blue glass inhalant vial.
Smooth. Seamless. With a pre-scored break line at its center.
Thirteen vials rested in a metal tray.
"This is—"
Before Ludendorff could finish—
Crack.
Maru snapped one open directly beneath his nose.
The gas—untested beyond theory—entered his lungs with his next breath.
A small act of retaliation.
If it succeeded, excellent.
If it failed—well, so be it.
But fate favored him.
As the gas coursed through his body, his veins and muscles glowed faintly beneath his skin, as if illuminated from within.
"This gas was designed specifically for you," Maru said.
"It enhances physical performance."
She omitted any mention of its untested nature.
Ludendorff did not respond.
He appeared absorbed—intoxicated—by the surging power.
Unsteady at first, he staggered toward a nearby metal worktable.
Gripping its edge—
He left deep handprints in solid steel.
Disbelief flashed across his face.
He drew the sturdiest pistol at his side—
And crushed it effortlessly.
Power.
It flooded him.
A sensation of boundless potential.
Of invincibility.
Of absolute will.
Nearby—
Maru watched with satisfaction.
Then—
A faint draft stirred the otherwise sealed laboratory.
A discarded draft sheet fluttered into her hands.
She smoothed it instinctively—
And revelation struck.
The missing structure.
The flawed linkage.
Correction.
Refinement.
Amplification.
"That's it!"
"So that's how!"
"I am a genius!"
Maru's eyes gleamed.
Ludendorff, now steadier in his enhanced state, met her gaze with a shared smile.
Their enemies would burn.
The reinforced gas was produced swiftly with available materials.
Standard gas masks corroded in less than 2.5 seconds upon exposure.
Unnoticed in the shadowed corner of the laboratory—
A middle-aged gentleman stood watching.
Top hat.
Linen shirt.
Trim mustache.
The resemblance to a certain "God of War" was uncanny.
Or perhaps—
The so-called God of War resembled him.
A whisper of wind.
And the man vanished as silently as he had come.
…
Elsewhere—
After meeting Leon's group, Etta Candy quickly shifted into professional mode, briefing Steve Trevor on recent developments and coordinating the transfer of Dr. Maru's notebook to the appropriate authorities.
Nearby—
Diana curiously examined the shop's garments.
Leon smiled.
"See anything you'd like to try?"
"No."
She shook her head and tightened the vibranium-woven cloak around her shoulders.
"I like the one you gave me. It's more comfortable than anything the finest Amazon tailor could create."
Indeed—
Beyond aesthetics, its true advantage was combat mobility and concealed weapon storage.
"Fair enough."
"Our Diana looks good in anything."
Leon said proudly.
Her cheeks warmed—but she did not refute him.
Soon—
Trevor reestablished contact with his superior.
"Big brother, should you and my sister-in-law head to the hotel with Etta? Or come with me to the War Cabinet to see the colonel?"
"I won't take long."
He addressed Leon respectfully.
Leon glanced at Diana.
"What do you think?"
"I want to meet humanity's leaders."
Her expression was resolute.
"You heard her."
Leon gestured for Trevor to lead the way.
The three left the clothing store and parted with Etta, who hurried off to secure lodging and contact several of Trevor's trusted associates.
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