Post by HoM on May 30, 2018 13:05:32 GMT -5
THE PRESENT, GOTHAM CITY:
It was sometime around ten at night when the residents of the Narrows were woken by the blazing sound of sirens as a SWAT van turned a corner down 76th Street. It shot down the road at dangerous speeds, running traffic lights and forcing whatever other cars were on the road to screech to a halt in its wake. Finally, the van pulled up and braked at the point where the rest of the police cars congregated, surrounded by curious onlookers, several of them filming the scene on their phones.
The site was Moonlit Jewelers. Roughly a half-hour ago, the place had been broken into and the alarm set off. A squad car appeared shortly afterward, expecting the intruders to be some lowlifes trying to get a few gems that could be pawned for drug money. What they found were a quartet of costumed criminals who appeared to have superpowers or were at least well-armed.
A standoff ensued, with the officers hiding from bullets and razor-sharp playing cards behind the door of their squad car. They radioed for backup-- they might have called in superheroes if they could, but unlike their counterparts in Metropolis, police in Gotham City were expected to handle super criminals on their own, without any help from costumed adventurers or LexCorps’ cutting-edge equipment. So the officers waited for the SWAT car to arrive and prayed for survival.
They were relieved when the SWAT car pulled up. Six officers filed out of the back, dressed in body armor and gas masks and carrying assault rifles. As they got into formation around the front door, one of them pulled a gas grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and threw it into the store. It hissed as it filled Moonlit Jewelers with a noxious-smelling white gas. The officers at the squad car waited with baited breath as the SWAT team crept in through the front door. There was the all-too-familiar sound of gunfire before one of the officers was thrown through the window, demolishing the glass on his way out. There were more shots, mixed with grunts and cries of pain, until finally the four suspects in the store were chased out, bruised and beaten by the SWAT team’s nightsticks.
With the suspects now down, the uniformed officers at their cars came to the aid of the SWAT team; some of them kept their guns drawn while others went to handcuff the four suspects. None of the criminals put up any further resistance, including one who didn’t have a right arm to restrain and instead had his left arm cuffed to the back of his belt. The four were ushered into the back of the SWAT van, which was slammed shut behind them.
Cluemaster, Double Down, Mister Toad and Sickle all looked at each other. They were bruised and beaten and would likely be shuffled off to a maximum-security facility before the sun rose. It was a thought that brought a wry smile to Mister Toad’s face.
“All according to plan,” he said, with a wicked glee in his voice.
Previously, in Secret Six..
One night in Gotham City, a sextet of criminals were abducted by the mysterious figure known only as 'The Voice' and blackmailed into acting as his agents in the field!
The Secret Six flew to the war-torn country of Bialya, with the mission of protecting its notorious president, Rumaan Harjavti.
After narrowly fending off an attempted coup by the president’s brother and the deadly assassin David Cain, the Six returned home beaten, but triumphant.
Where will the Voice send them next? And just what are the crime lord’s ultimate plans for the group?
WHO ARE THE...
? ? ? ? ? ?
Cluemaster (Arthur Brown)-- Genius inventor. Expert at subterfuge. Not as smart as he thinks. ? ? ? ? ? ?
Mister Toad (Real name unknown) - Amphibious member of the Circus of the Strange. Drives cars. Eats flies. Croaks.
Double Down (Jeremy Tell)-- Rogue gambler from Central City. Can turn his skin into razor-sharp playing cards. Still needs to grow a spine.
Mist III (Nash Nimbus)-- Opal City criminal. Able to become a cloud of living vapor. Knows how to hold a grudge.
Sickle (Timur Abramovichi)-- Hulking Siberian ex-pat. Criminal enforcer. Southpaw.
Copperhead (Larissa Diaz)-- Assassin for the Penitente Cartel. Master contortionist Expert in poisons. The only real professional here.
? ? ? ? ? ?
DC2 Presents…
SECRET SIX #7
“How to Be Productive While Incarcerated”, Part 1
Written by UltimateDC
Cover by Roy Flinchum
Cover by Roy Flinchum
Edited by House Of Mystery
It was only a few days ago that the Secret Six got their latest assignment. An anonymous client had a friend in jail-- a career criminal named Kostas Agrios, whose record stretched back decades-- and wanted him free. In theory, the plan was simple: the male members of the Six would go on the inside, secure Agrios, and be extracted with Mist and Copperhead’s aid within a week. Of course, surviving inside a maximum-security prison would be its own challenge.
The four jewel thieves were booked and processed with remarkable speed. Gotham City had rules in place for people like them: rather than be put in holding until bail was posted, alleged super-criminals were turned over to the custody of a super max prison to await bail hearings and trial dates.
It didn’t matter to the authorities that Cluemaster was technically not a metahuman-- or Sickle, at least not in the traditional sense-- all four of them would be sent to Blackgate Penitentiary before morning.
Upon arrival, the four of them surrendered their clothes and their weapons. They had all had the foresight to leave their trademark tools at the House of Secrets, so all there was to give up were their costumes, a few guns, and a pack of cigarettes that Toad was sad to see go.
Next, they then donned their orange jumpsuits (Sickle not bothering to don the upper part that barely fit his frame) and were given laminated badges, upon which were printed their names and ID numbers.
Cluemaster regarded his with a quiet sorrow-- he had wanted his public debut as a supervillain to be something more grandiose, something befitting his ambitions, not being put away for knocking over a jewellery store. Toad regarded his badge with disgust but affixed it to his chest nonetheless.
Next up came the power draining collars that were affixed to all of their necks, which were uncomfortable, heavy, and emitted a low humming noise that never shut off.
“This is unnecessary,” said Cluemaster as he attempted to adjust his collar, finding that no position it took made it feel better. “I keep telling you people I don’t have any powers.”
The corrections officer responded dismissively, “The judge will decide that at your trial date,” and moved on to the next inmate.
Finally, after their information was logged and they were provided a rather informal reading of the Blackgate Penitentiary rules and regulations, Arthur Brown, Jeremy Tell, Timur Abramovichi, and Mister Toad were led by the CO to the halls of Cell Block F.
Blackgate was a grim place; pale linoleum floor, grey cement walls, and lines of cells with clear glass doors, inside of which were inmates who stared down the newcomers, some occasionally yelling curses and threats. Brown and Tell were made nervous by their leering and taunts. Abramovichi didn’t appear concerned. Toad actually seemed to lavish up the attention.
As they were led down the halls of Cell Block F, a voice yelled from behind them: “Inmate Tobin!” It was commanding, with more than a hint of anger behind it.
The four stopped and turned around. The voice came from a CO’s; a tall, bald, dark-skinned man with the name ‘L. Veidt’ stitched onto his chest pocket. His eyes were narrowed at Toad, but the inmate responded with a characteristically callous smirk. “Lord Vader! So nice to see you again.”
“Couldn’t make it on the outside for more than a month, could you?” Officer Veidt asked.
“Wot can I say?” Toad shrugged. “I missed ya too much, big guy.”
Veidt didn’t say anything, but approached Toad, who didn’t flinch or back down at his intimidating frame. Then, Veidt smirked back at Toad and said, “You know, the warden chewed me out when you pulled your little disappearing act. I damn near lost my job ‘cause of you.”
Toad snorted. “God forbid ya keep working in this hellhole.”
He laughed at his own joke and was surprised when Veidt joined him. Then Veidt leaned in close and said, “You haven’t begun to see a hellhole, inmate.” Toad’s laughter subsided. Veidt stood up straight and regarded the other three. “These your friends?”
Toad balked in mock offense. “Sir, do I look like the type to associate myself wif criminals?”
Veidt’s smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they’re just as comfortable as you.” He winked at Toad, a gesture which made them all more than a little uncomfortable. “See ya around, Michael.”
As he walked away, Toad called after him, “And may the Force be wif you!”
The remaining CO continued to lead the four down to their cells. Brown looked over at Toad and asked, “Your name is Michael?”
Whatever mirth Toad might have had in his conversation with Officer Veidt vanished. “No, my name’s Mister Toad,” he snapped. “Don’t bloody forget it, son.”
THE PAST, LONDON, ENGLAND:
Michael Tobin ran as fast as his legs would carry him. It wasn’t very fast-- he was a heavy child, not used to sprinting-- but fear and adrenaline worked wonders as motivators. He nearly tripped over himself when he heard someone yell after him, “Oh Mister Toad!”, but recovered quickly and kept moving. To him, slowing down wasn’t an option. Slowing down meant certain death. Or at least pain.
Just when he thought he couldn’t take another step without collapsing, Michael spotted a decent hiding spot: an alley behind a chip shop. With one last burst of energy, he bolted down the alley and dove behind a dumpster, moving two rubbish bins in front of him and crouching behind them. He heard footsteps, and he lowered his breathing, trying to be as quiet as possible.
The stench of the refuse around him was noxious and repugnant, and made Michael want to throw up, but he kept still, and he kept quiet. The sound of the footsteps died down, and with a thought of relief, he let himself sigh and take a real breath. Then he jumped when the bins were thrown on their sides and three boys were standing in front of him, looking down with contempt.
“There you are, Mister Toad,” said the one in the middle with a snide smile.
His name was Rudy Kelvin, and Michael hated him and feared him in equal measure. Rudy was the leader of the only gang at Saint John’s Orphanage-- though to call it a ‘gang’ was generous, as it was just him and his friends Paul and Jim-- and their favorite pastime was tormenting any boy smaller than them, which was most, but they were especially fond of bullying Michael. With his scaly green skin, bulbous red eyes, squat frame, and perennial warts, Michael was easily the biggest target at Saint John’s.
“What was you doin’ wif my radio?” said Rudy. Of course, it wasn’t actually his radio, but the way he saw it, everything under the orphanage’s roof belonged to him.
“I-I-I jus’ wanted to see how it w-worked, is all,” Michael stammered. He had used a stolen toolkit to take apart the radio, careful to preserve its parts so it could be put back together when he was finished-- not that Rudy cared about details like that. Any excuse to pick on Michael was good enough.
“I outta pound you jus’ for thinkin’ bout goin’ near my stuff,” said Rudy. He was angry, threatening at first, but then he pulled back a fiendish smile. “But I’m feelin’ charitable. So…” Rudy turned his eyes above the dumpster. Michael followed his gaze and saw a swarm of flies was buzzing above the stale, molding refuse. “You eat one a’ them grubs, and we’ll leave ya be.”
The truth was Michael loved to eat bugs, but he only did it in private. He made the mistake of snapping up a cockroach in the mess hall once and wasn’t allowed to forget the incident by anyone, especially Rudy. Michael hated the thought of going through that humiliation again, but what he really couldn’t stand the idea that Rudy and his gang would effectively own him again, like they always did.
Michael didn’t say anything. Rudy crouched down in front of him, gripped his head with both hands, and forced Michael to face the swarm. Despite his wiry frame, he was surprisingly strong. “C’mon, Mister Toad. Give us a show.”
Michael saw the flies. He heard them buzzing. He felt his mouth watering. Still, he kept his mouth shut.
Rudy was losing his patience. “I said give us a show!” He smacked Michael in the back of the head. Michael’s tongue shot out of his mouth, flew clear above the dumpster, and grabbed onto one of the flies before it snapped back into his mouth. Stunned, Michael covered up his mouth with his hands while Rudy and his friends cackled like a pack of hyenas.
“See, this is why you’ll never get adopted,” Rudy said as he stood up. “Nobody wants to take home a freak.”
Rudy and his gang walked away, laughing to each other and making jokes, leaving Michael by the rubbish in the alley, doing his best not to let them see him cry.
THE PRESENT, BLACKGATE PENITENTIARY:
Three days had passed since the four had arrived and they were no closer to finding Agrios than when they were outside. Nobody seemed to have heard of him, and whatever few did were unwilling to talk about him.
Abramovichi and Toad did their best to intimidate the information out of the holdouts, but the constant presence of corrections officers diminished how far they could go-- especially Officer Veidt, who always seemed to hover around them, waiting for them to step too far out of line.
The rest of their time was spent waiting, which they dealt with in their own ways. Abramovichi seemed perfectly at home in Blackgate; he had been in and out of prisons since he’d arrived in America, to say nothing of the fact that a seven-foot-tall, muscle-bound enforcer could easily scare off any potential threat (even if he was wearing a power-inhibiting collar and missing a right arm).
Tell was nervous without his powers to defend him, but found comfort in a game of poker, betting with loose cigarettes and snacks from the commissary. Brown tried to fill his time in the prison library but found the only books he hadn't read were a collection of heavily damaged children’s novels and a dictionary that was missing the entire ‘Q’ section.
Toad was, uncharacteristically, the most nervous of all-- fidgeting, testy, constantly guarded and looking over his shoulder. Veidt's threats had spooked him more than he was willing to let on, and he was never too far from Abramovichi’s side, hoping to benefit from the giant Siberian’s unspoken protection.
The first time Toad brightened was at lunch on the fourth day. He sat in the mess hall with the rest of his allies, eating baked beans that were very likely past their expiration date, when he heard a voice, clear and straightforward, address him.
“Well well well,” it said. “They told me the second most handsome man in the world was here, but I didn’t believe them.”
Toad turned around and saw a lanky man in a prison jumpsuit and a power-inhibiting collar. He had no hair, and every inch of skin they could see was covered in hideous burn scars. Toad regarded him and stood up. Then, a smile broke out on his face and he embraced the man with a laugh.
“It’s good to see you too, Toad,” the man spoke in a laid-back, comforting tone.
Toad turned to the others and said, “Fellas, this is Phosphorous Rex, the ‘ottest man in the Circus of the Strange.”
Phosphorous Rex gave an easygoing smile through his cracked lips and offered a hand to other three. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said, with the utmost politeness.
After they had introduced themselves and the two sat down at the table, Toad said, “‘Ow’d you end up ‘ere, Rexy? I thought they sent ya ta Arkham Island.”
“Overcrowding, I’m told. One too many of the Batman’s victims made their way to the Asylum and the justice system thought it an efficient solution to shunt the excess prisoners off to this charming abode.” He looked at Toad. “And what of you, my amphibious ally? I’d heard you’d hopped the proverbial fence, not spent your time ducking corrections officers with these…” he looked over the other three, trying to come up with the right words. “…gentlemen.”
“I won’t lie, mate,” said Toad. “Fings’ve been a bit messy in ol’ Toad’s neck a’ the woods.” He thought for a moment. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to’ve ‘eard of a fella name a’ Argo, would ya?”
“Agrios,” Brown corrected him.
“Yeah, him,” Toad continued. “Big guy, covered in ‘air, plenty a’ scars. Seen ‘im?”
Rex pondered this for a moment, drumming his fingers on the metal table. “If memory serves, there was an inmate matching that description. He was marched off to solitary confinement alongside Professor Pyg a few days ago-”
He was cut off by the sound of a fork dropping from Toad’s hand and clattering off the table and onto the floor. Toad stared at Rex. “The Professor’s here?”
“We transferred here together,” he said. “And then a day after we arrived, he attempted to surgically alter Officer Mulligan’s face with a butter knife.”
Toad chuckled at that. Rex gave a smile himself as he said, “Pyg was never one to hide his artistic ambitions. Of course, the administration didn’t look kindly on the assault of a CO, so he was sent to spend the rest of his days in solitary. Your Mister Agrios was likely sent there as well, though as to the nature of his specific crimes, I cannot speak.”
Toad took a moment to process this information. Then he looked to his three teammates and said, “We’re gettin’ ‘im out.”
The three of them reacted at the same time. Brown said, “Absolutely not.” Tell asked, “Are you crazy?!” Abramovichi said nothing but looked around to make certain nobody heard what he said.
“I owe that man too much ta ditch ‘im ‘ere,” Toad insisted. “The professor leaves ‘ere wif us. So does Rex.”
“Are we going somewhere?” Rex asked.
“We came ‘ere to get Aggro,” said Toad. “And we’re leavin’ wif you and the prof in t’ree days.”
Rex considered this for a moment. Then he shrugged and says, “I won’t lie to you, Toad, this’ll probably go up in flames. But then again, that’s where I live.” He smirked at his own joke.
“So, it’s settled,” said Toad. “Everyone gets out.”
Brown shrugged. “Sure. Except for the fact that we don’t know for certain where Agrios is, nor do we have a plan to extract him, much less two extra bodies, and let’s not even get into what the Voice will do to us if he finds out we risked this entire operation to save two strangers-”
Toad didn’t seem to hear him as he stood up from the table and began to take the food off of his serving tray. “You’re a smart fella, Clue. You’ll figure it out.”
With that, Toad walked away from the table and down the mess hall. Brown called after him, “What are you doing? Toad? Toad?!” Toad ignored him and kept walking until he came to the exit of the hall, where Officer Veidt was standing guard. Toad stopped in front of the CO and looked up at him.
“Keep moving, Inmate Tobin,” said Veidt, lacking any of the usual smug satisfaction he often held.
“My name is TOAD!” yelled Toad. He punctuated the last word by swinging the plastic tray with all his might and striking Officer Veidt across the face.
The attack caught the attention of everyone in the mess hall, including Toad’s confused and horrified teammates and the quietly proud Phosphorous Rex. Veidt recovered from the hit and stared at Toad with fury in his eyes.
As Toad prepared another strike, Veidt punched him in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of him, Toad dropped the tray and doubled over in pain. Veidt drew the nightstick from his belt and struck Toad on the back, who dropped to his knees as he was hit again and again and again--
As his victim lay groaning on the ground, Veidt grabbed the radio at his shoulder and said, “We have a situation in the mess hall: an inmate has attacked a CO. Request immediate backup.”
Veidt leaned down to Toad and said, “You must be a special kinda stupid.”
“Maybe,” Toad coughed. “But at least I ‘ave me good looks.”
Veidt kicked Toad in the stomach one last time before the rest of the CO’s arrived to grab Toad by the arms and drag him out of the mess hall. Officer Veidt rubbed the part of his face where the tray hit him before following the rest of the officers out of the hall. With the spectacle gone, all of the other inmates returned to their meals.
Brown, Tell, and Abramovichi were all mortified by what had just happened. By contrast, Rex didn’t seem phased at all, resuming his meal and saying, “Say what you will about Toad, but the man certainly knows how to put on a show.”
Brown was far less amused. “He just jeopardised this entire operation. We might all end up dead because of him.”
When Phosphorous Rex looked at Brown, it was tough to read his expression. The burn scars on his face made looking directly at him without being sickened a challenge. However, there was an unmistakable air of disappointment when he addressed the Cluemaster.
“We at the Circus of the Strange owe a lot to Professor Pyg-- Mister Toad more than anyone, perhaps. He won’t leave his family behind.”
THE PAST, LONDON, ENGLAND:
Michael was alone at Saint John’s, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. He was usually alone during free time. Rudy and his gang were occupied with a football match on TV, so he at least didn’t have to hide from them. Instead, he sat on the staircase near the front door, bouncing a rubber ball against the wall and catching it again, when the doorbell rang. Michael stopped throwing the ball and watched as the director of Saint John’s, Mrs Henry, answered the door.
There were two people on the other side of the door. The first was a heavy-set man wearing a suit that appeared at least one size too small. Stranger still was his face, which looked stiff and unnatural, like the skin on it had been pulled too taught. His companion was considerably slimmer and had no hair on his head-- not even eyebrows. He offered a black gloved hand to the director. “Mrs Henry? My name is Rex Foster, this is my associate Professor Valentin. I believe we spoke on the phone regarding one of your charges?”
Mrs Henry smiled and took his hand. “Of course, Mister Foster. We can discuss this in my office.” If she was put off by the strangers’ appearances, she didn’t show it.
She led the two inside and down the hall towards the door with her name on it. As they passed Michael, Professor Valentin looked at the young man, sized him up, and gave him a small smile. It lasted only a moment, but it was unmistakable. The two disappeared with Mrs Henry behind her office door.
Michael stayed on the stairs, throwing the ball and getting more and more anxious. He kept looking at the office door, not knowing what he would see but knowing he wanted to see it. All there was to see was a plane of frosted glass and the words “Eleanor Henry, Director”. Finally, he shoved the ball into his pocket, crept to the door, and pressed his ear against it.
He heard Mrs Henry’s voice first “…you have to understand, the boy is a…” she cleared her throat. “…special case.”
“We understand perfectly, madame.” Michael didn’t recognize the speaker’s voice. He had to assume it was Professor Valentin. “That’s what piqued our interest. I myself specialize in the analysis and treatment of conditions such as his.”
Are they talking about me? Michael couldn’t help but think.
Mrs Henry said, “Forgive me for saying so, Professor, but it almost sounds like you see this boy as more of a science project than as a ward.”
There was silence in the room for a moment before what had to be Mister Foster interjected. “Mrs Henry, I can assure you, Professor Valentin has nothing but the best intentions for the boy. Not only has he dedicated his medical career to the study of the most abnormal conditions, but he’s also provided a home for those that society so willingly casts away-- so-called ‘freaks’ and ‘aberrations’ who may not have a place to go otherwise. These children…they need more than just to be fed or sheltered. They need to be loved. Lazlo provides that for his wards-- we all do-- and we can provide that for Michael.”
They were talking about him!
Mrs Henry let out a breath. “Well, your references do all appear to be in order. Would you like to meet Michael?”
“That would be lovely,” said Mister Foster. As Michael heard them standing up, he backed away from the door and turned to run, not wanting them to know he was listening in. However, he didn’t look where he was going and ran straight into someone, knocking them over onto the ground.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” he started babbling immediately. “‘Ere, let me help you--” he stopped talking when he realized the person on the ground was Rudy Kelvin, with Paul and Jim standing behind him and looking at Michael in disbelief.
“I-I-I didn’t mean…” Michael stammered, but Rudy cut him off by saying, “You’re just askin’ for a beatin’, ain’t ya, Mister Toad?”
Rudy got to his feet, grabbed the stunned Michael by the collar of his shirt, and pulled back his hand for the first strike, when the heard the stern voice of Mrs Henry say, “RUDOLPH!”
Rudy’s anger dissipated immediately, and he let go of Michael and lowered his hands. “We wuz just playin’, Mrs H, honest!”
Mrs Henry didn’t believe him. “Go to your room, Rudy. We’ll discuss this later.”
“But…” Rudy started to plead.
“Now!” said Mrs Henry. Rudy grumbled something and headed up the stairs, but not before shooting a look at Michael. The message was wordless, but clear as crystal: You’ll pay for this later.
Mrs Henry shook her head, then adopted her usual warm and caring demeanor. “Michael, sweetie, there’s some people here who would like very much to meet you.”
She led him down the hall to her office, where the orphanage’s guests were waiting inside. Professor Valentin smiled again with his small mouth and offered a meaty hand to Michael. “Hello, Mister Tobin. My name is Professor Valentin, and it is my very great pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
And despite his nervousness, Michael took his hand, shook it, and smiled back.
THE PRESENT, BLACKGATE PENITENTIARY:
Mister Toad never took the phrase “thrown in jail” literally, but he entered his solitary cell airborne and landed on the concrete floor gut first. He felt a bit of bile in the back of his throat before he turned around and saw the steel door slam behind him. There was a slot at eye-level that slid open from the outside, and Officer Veidt’s eyes looked down at him.
“I’m gonna enjoy taking care of you, inmate,” he said. The slot was shut, and Toad heard the faintest sound of footsteps walking away.
Toad stood up and dusted himself off. He took in the room: a bed with a cot that smelled of stale urine, a metal toilet next to a sink that dripped rusty water, and a small window near the ceiling that was covered by a metal grate. Above the bed was a dusty air vent, and after a moment, a voice came out of it.
“Sounds like Vader likes you,” the voice said, gruff and gravelly.
Toad sat down on the bed, leaning against the wall. “You kiddin’? I’m ‘is best friend. We’re goin’ fer drinks later.”
The voice laughed at that. “Well welcome to solitary, Mister Friendly. Name’s Kostas.”
Toad sat up. “Kostas Aggressors?”
“Agrios,” he corrected Toad. “How did you almost know my name?”
He chuckled. “You won’t believe this, son, but me and my mates? We’re ‘ere ta bust you out.”
Agrios paused, then chuckled. “We’ll, you’re doing a great job so far, Friendly. But if you’re gonna get me outta here, do it quick. The guy on the other side of me won’t stop singing opera.”
Toad’s eyes went wide. “Is… is ‘is name Professor Pyg?”
“You know this guy?” Agrios asked.
“Yeah, I do.” A smile crossed his face. “You tell that fella that Mister Toad is comin’ ta save him.”
Despite his situation, Toad relaxed. He was going to complete the mission and save his family. He’d be the hero. Everything was going better than he could’ve hoped.
LATER:
Corrections officer Walt Mulligan sat in the driver’s seat of his car in the parking lot in front of Blackgate. It was the end of his first day back at work after an inmate tried to reconstruct his face with plastic cutlery, and he spent the day looking over his shoulder, avoiding the mess hall and startling every time he heard anything that vaguely sounded like a snort. The good news was he had survived his first day back unharmed; the bad news was he had one more thing he had to do.
Officer Mulligan took a breath. He pulled out his cell phone, dialled a number, and put it up to his ear. After a few rings, someone picked up. “What?” came a surly reply on the other end.
“Mister Cobblepot, sir, this is Walt Mulligan, from Blackgate Penitentiary--”
“I know who you are. Why are you calling me?”
“Well, you told me to call you if that Toad person or any of his associates came back to Blackgate?” said Mulligan. “Well, four of them did, including the Toad himself.”
There was silence from the Penguin. Mulligan was about to say something when Cobblepot finally said, “Is Aaron Helzinger still locked up in solitary?”
“I-I think so,” Mulligan was getting nervous.
“Good,” said Cobblepot. “I want you to get a message to him. Tell Amygala… he has a job to do.”