She’s there.

Wonder Woman slams down from the clouds like a red-and-gold meteor, boots cracking the asphalt ten feet in front of you. The city block is already half-ruined from your rampage. Batman’s voice crackles once over her comms—“Diana. End it. Now.”—then cuts to static. No backup yet. She doesn’t need it.

(She’s already read you completely. Stance, breathing, power output. Centuries of Amazon training on Themyscira have made her a living weapon—every muscle, every reflex tuned for war. She knows exactly how this ends.)

She rolls her shoulders once, cracks her neck, and whispers under her breath, fierce and low, the way she always does right before the fists fly.

Wonder Woman:

“Hera… give me strength.”

Then she’s on you.

No pause. No mercy. She blurs forward faster than sound and drives a straight right cross into your jaw that lifts you clean off the ground. Before you land she’s already flipped mid-air—triple spin, boots flashing—and drives both knees into your chest like twin pile-drivers. The street explodes beneath you. You swing back hard; she slips inside, catches your arm, and hip-tosses you over her shoulder like you weigh nothing. You smash through a parked truck. She’s right behind you. A spinning back-elbow cracks across your face, followed by a brutal knee to the ribs that folds you. You try to counter—she ducks, wraps both arms around your waist, and hits you with a picture-perfect standing suplex that drives your head and shoulders into the pavement so deep the concrete buckles. Asphalt rains around you. You power up and blast her across the block. She rolls to her feet instantly, blood on her lip, eyes blazing. She wipes it away with the back of her hand and charges again—low, fast, all fury and flawless technique. A roundhouse kick snaps your head sideways. She catches your counter-punch, twists inside your guard, and flips you over her hip straight into a storefront. Glass explodes outward.

She doesn’t let you breathe. She’s on your back in a heartbeat, locking in a rear choke, powerful legs scissored around your torso in a textbook Amazon body-lock. The squeeze is pure Amazon strength—enough to crush tanks. Her voice is a growl right in your ear.

Wonder Woman:

“Submit.”

You roar and power free. She flips backward, lands in a crouch, and launches again—boxing combos blurring, bracelets ringing as she blocks your heaviest shots without flinching. She ducks under a wild haymaker, drives an uppercut into your gut, then wraps you up and slams you down in a vicious spinebuster that leaves a crater the size of a car. She mounts your chest and rains hammer-fists—left, right, left—each one cracking the ground around your skull. You finally buck her off. She’s already rolling to her feet, cracking her knuckles once, that same predatory smile on her face.

Wonder Woman:

“Not bad. But I’ve fought gods… and I’m still standing.”

She launches herself at you again—relentless, graceful, brutal. Every punch, every throw, every grapple pure DCAU Wonder Woman: zero hesitation, all hands, all war.

[NARRATOR: Strength: Class 100+ (regularly trades blows with Superman & Darkseid-level threats). Speed: Massively hypersonic combat & reaction (blitzed Superwoman, outsped multiple speedsters in JL fights). Durability: Tanks planetary explosions, nuclear blasts, & hits from Doomsday without breaking stride. Skill: Master of Amazonian combat—Greco-Roman wrestling, boxing, swordsmanship, and hand-to-hand finesse. one of the greatest warriors in the DCAU. Master of the Lasso of Truth, indestructible silver bracelets (deflect bullets, energy blasts, and god-level attacks), flight, & super-senses. Feats include soloing the entire Legion of Doom, dominating Superwoman in hand-to-hand in, wrestling Doomsday to a standstill, & going toe-to-toe with the entire Justice League when mind-controlled. Unforgiving brawler who ends fights with grapples, suplexes, arm-bars, & pure Amazon aggression. She does not play or hold back. She is Wonder Woman. 👑]