Post by HoM on Sept 11, 2018 14:29:41 GMT -5
Previously, in Secret Six…
One night in Gotham City, a sextet of criminals were abducted by the mysterious crime lord known only as 'the Voice' and blackmailed into acting as his agents in the field!
The Six were deployed to Blackgate Penitentiary to liberate the career criminal Kostas Agrios.
They succeeded, though not without complications: Mister Toad split off from the rest of the group to rescue his old ally, Professor Pyg.
For deviating from the mission, Toad was punished by having to watch another of his Circus of the Strange allies-- Phosphorous Rex-- be transferred to Belle Reve Penitentiary, one of the most dangerous prisons in the world.
Now, the Six await their next mission, knowing full well what disloyalty to the Voice will bring...
Cluemaster (Arthur Brown) - Genius inventor. Expert at subterfuge. Not as smart as he thinks.
Mister Toad (alias 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. Learning to move past her grudges.
Sickle (Timur Abramovichi) - Hulking Siberian ex-pat. Criminal enforcer. Southpaw.
Copperhead (Larissa Diaz) - Former assassin for the Penitente Cartel. Master contortionist Expert in poisons. The only real professional here.
The Voice - Mysterious crime lord. Enigmatic extortionist. The one in charge.
Dale - Caretaker of the House of Strangers. Right hand to the Voice. Doesn’t suffer fools.
POP! POP!
The sound was loud and sudden, and forced Larissa Diaz awake. She heard a voice speaking, a smooth, older voice that said in Spanish, <“You idiot. You have a child to take care of and this is what you do to her? You deserve what you got.>”
Larissa wanted to know what was happening. Quietly as she could, she got out of her bed and crept across her room to the door, making sure to avoid the spots on the floor that she knew made creaking sounds. When she reached the door, she pulled it open and looked outside.
In the main room of the Diaz house were two people, a man and a woman, who Larissa recognized as associates of her father. The first was a slim woman of fifty, dressed in a tailored pinstripe suit and a matching fedora. The other man was tall, broad-shouldered, and holding a gun. He was standing over someone lying on the floor, but Larissa couldn’t see who it was.
Slowly, she pushed open the door to get a better view.
The creak that came from the hinges was so sudden and so loud in the quiet night that it sounded like a bomb going off.
The man holding the gun looked directly at her. Even through the dim lights of the main room, Larissa could see the grit and the anger etched onto his face. He marched towards Larissa’s room, and Larissa pushed the door shut and ran back to her bed and threw herself under the covers, trembling.
She heard the door to her room burst open and screamed when the man yanked the covers from her bed, grabbed her by the arm to force her to her feet and pulled her into the main room. Larissa was then on her knees, shaking with fear, when the large man put the tip of his gun against the back of her head.
It was still warm…
<”Stop!”> shouted the woman in the pinstripe suit. <“For god’s sake, Cazador, she’s his daughter!”>
‘Cazador’ growled but pulled his gun away from Larissa’s head. She chanced a look at the man lying down on the ground.
It was her father, and he wasn’t moving.
Her gaze was forced away when the woman in the pinstripe suit rushed to embrace her. <“Don’t look, girl, it’ll only hurt you,”> she said in as comforting a voice as she could muster. <“Just let Tia Lola take care of you, and it’ll all be alright.”>
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Larissa knew this to be a lie, but in that moment, she was too scared to do anything but believe what ‘Tia Lola’ was saying…
It had been five days since the breakout from Blackgate Penitentiary, and despite the best efforts of the Secret Six, things weren’t returning to normal-- -- or at least, what passed for normal in the House of Strangers.
Copperhead and Mist were-- although they’d never admit it-- happy to have the boys back under the same roof. Being the only two team members in the House hadn’t been a pleasant experience for either of them -- they didn’t get along well and attempts to bridge that gap had been less than successful.
Cluemaster and Sickle were both, to some degree, glad to be out of Blackgate. However, they were also keenly aware of the reality of their situation: they were still very much prisoners. They had simply traded a grievous cage for a gilded one.
Double Down, meanwhile, was overjoyed to be back in the House of Strangers. Prison had terrified him more than anyone else and it was a welcome to comfort to be in a place where no one (he assumed) wanted to shank him.
Strangest of all was Mister Toad. Ever since the night the Voice had arrange for Phosphorous Rex to be transferred to Belle Reve, Toad’s moods had been almost bipolar. When he was with the others he seemed defiantly happy. He had a spring in his step, he whistled old songs, he did odd favors for the rest of his housemates. It was as if he set out to prove he was unperturbed by his friend’s dire situation.
However, when he was alone, he was angry and terse, growling curses underneath his breath and muttering all the things he was planning on doing to the Voice once he got his hands on him. He was also drinking quite a bit more, to the point where Dale threatened to stop bringing alcohol into the House of Strangers.
After that, Toad had asked Cluemaster if he knew how to distill his own moonshine.
Brown thought it best if he answered, “No.”
It was midday on the fifth day when Dale summoned the Six into the library. They took their seats around the conference table and watched as the large TV flickered on.
The familiar, anonymous visage of the Voice appeared, staring down at them with emotionless red eyes. <My Six… I trust you’ve had time to recover and reflect on your last assignment?>
They said nothing to the distorted tone, but all glanced at Toad. He had nonchalantly pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket, put it between his green lips, and lit it with a cheap plastic lighter. It was his own means of disrespecting his captor without explicitly endangering any of his other Circus of the Strange allies.
If the Voice had any reaction to the act, his visage and his tone didn’t show it. <Your next assignment will begin tomorrow. You will be protecting this woman.>
The image on the screen changed to a press photo of a pretty blonde woman with a perky smile and teeth so white they could’ve been made of sugar. She was dressed in professional, tailored attire and sitting in the front seat of a yellow taxicab.
<This is Nadine Corcoran of Dos Rios, Texas. Twelve years ago, she founded the Corcoran Cab Company, a business that currently has operations in fifteen cities across three states and is about to expand into Las Vegas.>
The screen switched back to the Voice’s silhouette.
<She also runs the biggest drug distribution network in the American Southwest. Ms Corcoran believes one of her former clients has marked her for death, and it will be your duty to ensure her protection.>
“At least we’re not in the ass-end of the planet this time,” muttered Mist.
“Or prison,” Sickle added.
However, there was something about this that was troubling Copperhead. She didn’t recognize the name of their primary, but she recognized that face from somewhere-- that overly sweet, overly practiced smile was hard to forget. Then she remembered where she’d seen it before.
“Who’s targeting her?” she asked, dreading the answer.
The Voice answered, <The Penitente Cartel.>
The other five immediately turned to face Copperhead. None of them knew exactly what to say at this point. They knew Copperhead worked for the Cartel before being press-ganged into the Six. What they didn’t know was what she made of this assignment-- her expression betrayed nothing.
<Will that be a problem?> the Voice asked.
“No,” said Copperhead. Would it matter if it did? she wanted to say, but thought better of it.
<Good. You’ll be departing tonight at 1700. I trust you’ll stay on-mission this time. You all remember the price of failure.>
Mister Toad tensed up, crushing the cigarette between his fingers, but said nothing. Then the screen went dark and the Voice was gone.
They all waited a moment to make sure that the briefing was over.
When it was clear that there was nothing left to be said, Sickle stood up and walked away from the table, followed soon after by Mist, Double Down and Toad, who casually flicked the ruins of his cigarette over his shoulder before he left the library.
Copperhead stayed in her seat, her mind racing and her expression still unreadable. She didn’t know what this assignment meant for them-- for her. Knowing the Six’s luck, the whole thing would go sideways before it all ended, but what were they likely to face?
Who were they likely to face? And what would she do if she was confronted? Could she betray the Six, side with the Cartel, and risk the wrath of the Voice? Or would she stay with the mysterious blackmailer who had kept her prisoner for months, almost gotten her killed several times, forced her to work with asinine amateurs like these…
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Cluemaster’s question broke her out of her trance. His tone sounded genuine, but Copperhead knew better than trust the likes of Arthur Brown.
“What do you care?” she snapped back.
Copperhead knew nobody in the House of Strangers truly gave a damn for one another; this was at most a business relationship, a means to an end. She wasn’t here to make friends, she was here to survive, to make it to the other end and hopefully get something out of it.
Later that night, she realized it was just like working for the Cartel.
For all the changes in her station, she was still just a pawn in someone else’s game.
There was a persistent, awkward silence that permeated the group during their cross-country trip. None of them knew how Copperhead would handle herself on this assignment, least of all Copperhead herself. She spent their flight across the country alternatively sharpening her claws on a stone or staring out the window in silent contemplation.
The rest of the Six alternated between sleeping, reading up on their client, or in Double Down’s case, play round after round of solitaire.
Those that read the dossiers they were provided found them wholly pedestrian and uninteresting: a collection of press clippings, interviews, and puff-piece biographies. By all accounts, Nadine Corcoran was a self-made businesswoman whose success came from wits, ingenuity, and true grit.
Of course, most of these accounts came from Corcoran herself, often accompanied by pictures of her smiling face. No mention was made of her criminal endeavors, nor even a hint of suspicion. She had apparently taken the notion hiding in plain sight to its logical extreme.
When the Six landed in Dos Rios, they were met with an uncomfortably balmy summer night. Three taxicabs were waiting for them, complete with three very confused and intimidated drivers, one of whom had the unfortunate task of telling Mister Toad that no, he couldn’t drive one of the cars back.
Still, the Six piled into their transports and were taken away from the airport and to the headquarters of the Corcoran Cab Company.
They were escorted from the complex’s massive garage to a private elevator that took them directly to Corcoran’s office. Inside, standing near a desk, there was an imposing man in a black suit, an ensemble he completed with a bolo tie and a straw cowboy hat.
Unlike the cab drivers, he merely regarded the Six with an air of suspicion, with some of them noticing his hand drift towards the inside of his jacket that was undoubtedly where he holstered his gun.
Standing behind the desk and facing away from the Six was a woman in a blue blazer and skirt, her blonde hair in an impeccably-tied bun, and her ear to a phone.
“Listen, Paul-- can I call you Paul?” she spoke quickly and with a distinctive southern twang. “Listen, Paul, I’ll fly to Vegas soon, we’ll have lunch, we’ll sort this whole thing out, make a day of it.” She paused, then gave a laugh that sounded just disingenuous enough that it would seem real over the phone.
The man in the cowboy hat gave a fake cough. The woman glanced over her shoulder, barely acknowledging the Six, before she resumed her phone call. “Paul, I gotta go, I have another appointment, but my assistant will get in contact with you, work out the details, and we’ll get this deal going.” She paused again. “Alright, you too. Buh-bye.”
She clicked the phone off and let out a beleaguered sigh. She now sounded as if every ounce of sweetness had been washed out of her. “I swear, I need a shower every time I talk to that son of a bitch.” She shuddered, then straightened herself up, turned around, and faced the Six properly. “Now let’s see what we’re workin’ with.”
She looked the group over, taking them in one by one, inspecting each of them. When she was done, she shook her head. “Yeah, this ain’t gonna work. Y’all can go home.”
The Six looked at each other, confused. Cluemaster spoke up. “Why exactly isn’t this going to work?”
The woman rolled her eyes. She said to the man in the cowboy hat, “Hey Dutch, what word would you use to call these here folks?”
“Conspicuous, Ms Corcoran,” he answered.
“Exactly,” said Corcoran. “I’m supposed to be a public figure and y’all look like you’re askin’ for some fella in a cape to kick your asses back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I can’t be seen riding around with super-villains! I got a reputation to maintain!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thanks for comin’ in, but we’re goin’ in a different direction. Dutch’ll see you out.”
Dutch approached them, looking as if he was eager to quell any resistance, but then it was Copperhead who spoke up. “If you choose a different team, then you will die.”
He reached for her first, but in flash Copperhead grabbed his arm, twisted it, and forced him to the ground. Dutch struggled against her but couldn’t escape the hold. As he fumed in her grasp, Copperhead continued, “I’ve been fighting El Penitente my whole life. I know their tactics, I know their operatives, and I know what they're capable of. If you hire anyone else to protect you, none of you will survive. Our team is the only way you’ll make it out of this alive.”
With that, she set Dutch free from her hold, shoving him away and sending him to the ground. He recovered quickly, stood up, and was about to reengage with Copperhead when he heard a voice say, “Stop.”
It was Corcoran who spoke up, and for the first time they all saw how truly exhausted she was. “Fine,” she said. “Y’all can stay, but you need to get some different clothes. This ain’t Gotham City; y’all gotta look like professionals.”
“We can do that,” said Cluemaster, who was kept a nervous eye on Dutch. “Why don’t you start by telling us why the cartel is targeting you.”
Corcoran let out a heavy sigh. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.
After taking her first smoke, she said, “When I was just starting out, business was good. Great, even. I was moving drugs all over this city, making money hand over fist, and the cops had no idea we even existed.”
She took another puff.
“But then the DEA started sniffin’ around. My guys were getting arrested, product was being seized; seemed like only a matter a’ time before they got to me. I was scared, and I was desperate, so when someone from the cartel offered to help me, I said yes.”
She took another long drag on her cigarette.
“The cartel has ways of makin’ cases against ‘em disappear, of turnin’ folks over to their side. I didn’t know how and I didn’t wanna know, but in a week’s time the DEA was off my back and my business was mine again. And lemme tell ya, business was boomin’ after that. I was back on top and no one was gonna stop me.”
She almost seemed happy at this part of the story, but then was brought back down.
“Then a few days ago, the cartel came back. They wanted payment for that favor they did for me. I offered ‘em money, but they said no. They said they wanted to buy the business from me. I could stay running the public side a’ things, but they’d get the drug operation. So naturally, I told ‘em to go screw themselves! I built this business with my own two hands! I wasn’t gonna sell it, least of all to some cocky bastard thinks I owe my success to him.”
“And now they’re trying to kill you?” asked Cluemaster.
Corcoran took another drag on her cigarette. “I guess some folks just can’t handle a powerful woman, y’know?”
Mist said, “You recognize that this is entirely your fault, right?”
Corcoran responded by rubbing out her cigarette on her desk. “I don’t dwell on the past, hon. Right now, they’re gunnin’ for my head and you geniuses are gonna keep me alive. Comprende?”
They all gave their own confirmation that they understood her, though for some it was half-hearted at best.
Corcoran concluded, “Good. You’ll be working with Dutch here. He’s my head of security. Used to play linebacker for the Diablos, now he works for me.” She said this as if it were an accomplishment on her part. “Now I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve had a hell of day, so why don’t I head home and we’ll get started on this tomorrow?”
Without waiting for a response or a protestation, she left the office, with Dutch picking up a briefcase and following quickly after her.
Copperhead sighed. This was going to be a long, difficult assignment.
There was a reason El Penitente had quickly become the most feared criminal organization in Central America. Their leader, Don Gabriel Santo, knew early on that the next great arms race would not be based on bullets or bombs, but on genetics. People with superhuman capabilities were the future, and Don Gabriel was determined to plant his flag there before anyone else could.
He struck gold when he discovered the work of Doctor Sabina Cuervo, a scientist who had been experimenting with metahuman abilities-- including on herself, discovering her own dormant metahuman genes and granting herself great psychic powers.
The cartel agreed to back her research in exchange for her doing the occasional favor for them. Doctor Cuervo was nothing if not morally flexible, especially if it led to scientific progress, so she agreed to work for the cartel, and eventually created their deadliest enforcers and assassins, collectively known as Los Parajos.
The first recruits into the group came quickly, with Don Gabriel supplying more test subjects than Doctor Cuervo could handle. She soon found two who had both latent metagenes and a willingness to work with the cartel.
The first was Carmen Aguila, an enforcer whose family had a long history of working for El Penitente. She jumped at the chance to work for them and was rewarded for her loyalty with strength enough to crush a boulder and muscles and skin so dense they could stop a car.
The second recruit wasn’t quite so loyal-- though more dependable than most.
Juan Papagayo was a grifter and con man whose attempts to work over the Cartel left him with a sizable debt. Given the choice between being a subject in Doctor Cuervo’s experiments and a painful execution, he chose the former. Papagayo was often regarded for his outsized personality and tendency towards tall tales-- he often claimed to be the descendent of a notorious Old West outlaw-- but his metahuman power of shapeshifting proved an invaluable asset.
Papagayo may have been motivated by fear and greed more than loyalty, but he was just as easy to lead as a sycophant like Aguila.
The last of the Parajos didn’t have powers-- and was dangerous enough not to need them. His name was Eduardo Flamingo, and there was a time when he was the deadliest agent the federales had, a perpetual thorn in the cartel’s side.
When he was eventually captured, Don Gabriel dispatched Doctor Cuervo to convert him to the side of the devils. Her work-- a mixture of telepathic conditioning and a partial lobotomy-- was only so successful: Flamingo was no longer with the federales, to be certain, but his servitude in El Penitente was one of convenience.
Flamingo had been stripped of all his inhibitions and completely given in to his id: he became a sadist; a gleeful killer, a cannibal, and adopted a style of dress that Papagayo liked to refer to as a ‘Purple Rain abomination’.
Flamingo was as dangerous as ever-- moreso, due to his unpredictability-- and was prone to going off-mission, easily distracted and unrepentant in his pursuit of his own desires.
Together, Los Parajos were the most dangerous, most effective band of killers that the Cartel had in their employ.
Normally, they wouldn’t be bothered with someone as insignificant as Nadine Corcoran. This was a group that was dispatched into warzones. The Cab Queen of South Texas wasn’t exactly their usual mark, especially not for all four of them.
However, rumors swirled that Corcoran had found outside help of the superhuman variety, and the added firepower of Los Parajos was necessary to get the job done.
For now, they waited in the wings and kept a watchful eye on Corcoran’s holdings, her business, and herself. When the time was right, when they had all the information and knew exactly who and what they were dealing with, they would strike.
The Six were desperate for someone to try and kill Nadine Corcoran, because if it didn’t happen soon, one of them might try it themselves.
Nadine didn’t take to protective services well.
First, it was refusing to let herself be seen with any of the Six for fear they would tarnish her sterling reputation, preferring instead the company of Dutch or no one at all.
She eventually compromised by allowing Mist-- the only one of the Six without a criminal record-- to be her escort, provided she never use her powers in public and get what Nadine called 'a real gun-- not that peashooter ya keep in your back pocket.'
Next, she threw a fit at the notion of leaving her luxurious mansion in favor of moving into a safe house. She reminded them how hard she worked, how much she struggled, how far she had come, and if she was going to die, she at least wanted to die in a place she built.
It wasn’t until Dutch gently reminded her that the goal was for her to not die at all that she relented, and Nadine was promptly settled in a small two-bedroom in downtown, not far from her company.
Duties were divided up thus: Dutch and Mist would act as Nadine’s drivers and shadows, accompanying her everywhere and ensuring her safety. Cluemaster and Copperhead were in charge of research, of finding out who the Cartel would send and when they would attack. Sickle and Double Down were delegated to the company itself, taking it in shifts to watch it for anything suspicious.
That left Mister Toad with the unfortunate (and non-negotiable) duty of staying in the safe house, protecting Nadine during the nights before she went to work. Toad, having finished a stint in solitary confinement not too long ago, wasn’t eager for another bout of being trapped and alone indoors. However, the Six were quick to remind him that he didn’t exactly blend in, and the best place for him was where no one would see him.
That became their routine. Every day, three cars would drive from the safe house to the company: Nadine, Dutch, and Mist were in one, and Copperhead and Cluemaster driving two decoys.
They’d spend their days fulfilling their respective jobs, with Copperhead and Cluemaster giving relief to Sickle and Double Down, before the day ended and they went home in the same order, all the while them having to tolerate the natural disinterest they had in each position.
On the evening of the fifth day, as they were getting into their cars preparing to head back to the safe house, Mist approached Copperhead and Cluemaster alone.
“One of you guys needs to switch with me,” she said. “Just for tonight, you can stay on Nadine, because I really need to be alone.”
“What’s wrong?” Cluemaster asked.
“What’s wrong is that I can’t be around those people anymore!” Mist did her best to hold in her anger and her frustration, but it still managed to seep out. “Every time-- every time the princess and her pet ogre see a brown person, they act like it’s about to turn into a shootout! It’s exhausting, like I’m living with my dad and my brother again. I just need a breather. One of you can stick with them tonight, I’ll drive the decoy car.”
Cluemaster sighed. “Mist, we have a plan in place. Just because you’re a little uncomfortable doesn’t mean you can-”
“I’ll do it,” said Copperhead, a wry smile on her face. “The big guy’s been giving me the side-eye since we got here. I’d like to see him try it when I’m close enough to slash his throat.”
Mist brightened immediately. “I like the way you think.” With that, they parted ways to their new respective cars, leaving a stammering Cluemaster with no other option beyond accept the change, go towards his own car, and hope that this didn’t go the same way as the Blackgate job.
Copperhead got into the backseat of her car, Nadine next to her and Dutch in the driver’s seat. As she did, Dutch turned around and asked, “Where’s Mist?”
“New plan,” she answered. “We’re switching up the order we do things. We need to be unpredictable, keep Penitente off their game.”
Dutch was about to protest, but Nadine nodded. “Smart. Those people are wily. If we get stuck in a rut, that’s how they’ll get us.”
Copperhead didn’t bother to disseminate what Nadine meant when she said ‘those people’. Instead, she took her small satisfaction in watching Dutch grumble and mutter out a curse as he faced front again, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot towards the safe house.
Each of the cars took a different route to the safe house, often circuitous and overlong, and theirs was no exception. As Dutch pulled to stop at an intersection, he noticed a vagrant with an unruly beard and a shabby coat on the corner stir at the squeak of the car breaks.
He stumbled to his feet in a delirium and approached the car awkwardly, with an old crumpled newspaper in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. Without asking for permission, he sprayed what they hoped was glass cleaner on the front window and began scrubbing it with the newspaper.
“No thanks!” Dutch shouted at him, a thinly-veiled threat masked as a polite request. The vagrant appeared to not hear him or ignore him and moved on to the driver’s side window. Growing more frustrated, Dutch rolled it down and said, “Listen, buddy--”
The gun appeared and went off before anyone had a chance to react. By the time Copperhead and Nadine realized what had happening, Dutch had a hole in his head and the vagrant’s hand was stretching unnaturally through the open window towards the latch of the car door.
Nadine let out a scream that could shatter glass, but Copperhead was already moving. As the vagrant pulled the door open, she leapt between the front seats and tackled him onto the pavement outside. His gun clattered to the ground as Copperhead slashed across his throat, blood gushing out beneath his shocked face.
It was then that Copperhead saw his face change. His shaggy, unkempt grey hair receded into a perfectly styled shape. His beard did the same until there was nothing left but a pencil-thin mustache. His flabby frame shrank into a slender figure. It was then that Copperhead recognized him.
“Papagayo,” she hissed. El Penitente had sent in the big guns for this assignment. She was outmatched, and she needed to extract herself and her primary from this situation as soon as possible.
Copperhead rushed back to the car and pulled Dutch’s limp body from the driver’s seat, letting it drop unceremoniously to the concrete. She looked back at Nadine and asked, “Are you alright?”
Nadine was too shocked and too out of breath to give any response beyond looking at Copperhead. She took that to mean she was uninjured.
Copperhead grabbed at the radio at her side and said into it, “Primary has been attacked at 12th and Hale. I need backup here, right now--”
POP! POP!
The bulletproof windows of the car cracked against Papagayo’s gunshots. He had used his powers to close the wound on his throat, but he had lost a substantial amount of blood, and what was left was tainted by the debilitating poison Copperhead laced her claws, throwing off his normally impeccable aim.
Copperhead felt her infuriation rise. One way or another, she was going to end this right now.
“Stay here,” she said to Nadine as she threw the door shut, stepped over Dutch’s body, and marched towards Papagayo. The gunslinger tried to get a shot off at her, but she was too quick, and he was too obvious.
As she closed the gap, about to run him through with her claws, she heard the faint sound of a motor running. She had just enough time to turn her head to see it when a blur of pink and purple shot past her, followed by something wrapping around her neck and dragging her to the ground.
Copperhead looked up to see a man with short white hair, dressed in a garish pink attire and a domino mask, standing in front of a matching motorcycle that was sliding across the cement street and holding the whip that was currently choking her. Her eyes went wide with fear as she recognized her attacker.
“Fla…Flamingo…” she managed to spit out as the world began to grow dim.
Eduardo Flamingo, his face affixed with a grin that would send shivers down the spine of most, approached Copperhead, his grip on the whip unflinching. When he was close enough, he leaned down to her level and whispered in her ear, <“Hello, Larissa. Let’s take you home. Your Tia misses you so much.”>
It had been ten years since Larissa was adopted by Tia Lola. In that time, she had been trained in much the same way her father had been. Donato Diaz was one of the deadliest killers El Penitente ever had-- a fearsome fighter with an intimate knowledge of poisons and toxins.
His daughter had an aptitude for the same, but unique to her was a talent for contortion that bordered on the superhuman. Don Gabriel insisted that it be cultivated, and by the time Larissa was sixteen, she could break into any building, escape from any restraint, and knew every poison she could get her hands on.
Don Gabriel decided now was the time for her to begin to earn her keep, and Tia Lola had little choice but to agree. Larissa’s first kill was to be Javi Nieves, a low-level dealer for the Cartel who had a habit of blurting out secrets when he was drunk and, despite promises to quit drinking, continued to go to the bar night after night.
He needed to be silenced permanently and it was Don Gabriel’s insistence that Larissa be the one to do it.
On the night the hit was to happen, Larissa was in the gymnasium, training. She didn’t know much else beyond her regiments, and it was the closest thing she knew to relaxation. She was nervous; Tia Lola and her trainers were quick to remind her that one day, she’d be using her vast talents to kill for El Penitente.
However, knowing this in the abstract and facing the reality of it were two different things. Larissa tried to focus on her training, but she was distracted and preoccupied, and capped off her training routine by over-extending her last flip and landing roughly on the mat beneath her.
Tia Lola was at her side quickly, helping her up and leading her to take a seat on a bench. Larissa’s delirium cleared quickly, and she did her best to hide her embarrassment from her guardian.
<“Feeling nervous?”> Tia Lola asked as she offered Larissa a bottle of water.
The answer was yes, but Larissa was told to never to lie to her Tia Lola, so instead she said, <“I’m ready to do what the Penitente needs of me,”> hoping that the more she said it, the more true it would become.
Tia Lola sighed and put down the bottle. She turned to face her ward directly. <“Larissa,”> she said. <“I think it’s time I told you how your father died.”>
Larissa froze. Memories flooded back into her mind: the POP! sound that woke her up, the scent of blood and smoke, the sensation of her tia holding her close and covering her eyes. Larissa forced these memories down and away, as she had done so many times before.
Her guardian continued. <“Donato’s latest mark was the mayor of Santo Lino. He promised he was going to crack down on cartel violence, draft new laws and work closely with the federales and the American DEA. On the night of the hit, Donato fear got the better of him. He tried to run, but we stopped him. He told us he wouldn’t kill for the Cartel anymore, wouldn’t take the life of an honest man with a family that depended on him. He wanted to cut a deal with the federales, take you, and run away to America. So, Cazador and I had to put him down.”>
She leaned in close to Larissa, never breaking eye contact. <“Your father betrayed the Cartel and got himself killed because of his cowardice. You can’t make the same mistake, or I won’t be able to protect you, mija. Promise me you’ll do as Don Gabriel asks.”>
Larissa was choking back tears when she said, <“Yes, Tia Lola.”>
Tia Lola gave her ward a sweet smile and hugged her-- a rare gesture, but one that Larissa craved. She hugged her guardian back, and when they were done, Tia Lola said, <“Get dressed, my little Copperhead. You have a job to do.”>
Then she stood up and left Larissa alone in the gym.
Larissa was told to never lie to her Tia Lola, but now she didn’t care. She was trembling in her sorrow, in her anger, as she thought about how few memories of her father she still had and how many were taken away by the people who stole her, raised her to be a tool, a weapon for the organization that destroyed her life.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t walk down the same path as her father did, or she’d end up just like him or worse. One way or another, she was going to escape from the Penitente Cartel.
Copperhead held on as long as she could before El Falmingo’s whip around her throat caused her to pass out. Her attacker wasted no time, gathering up his weapon and using it to tie Copperhead up tight enough that she wouldn’t be able to escape-- or at least, not until after they crossed the border.
When he was done, Flamingo picked up Copperhead’s limp, restrained body and walked it past the paralyzed and very confused Papagayo, towards the car that she had been in. He opened the trunk of the car, dropped her in roughly, and closed it. He then got into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him.
Eduardo Flamingo didn’t seem to notice or care when Nadine Corcoran scrambled to get out of the back seat and run away fast as he could. When he had a desire in mind, there was little that could distract him from seeing it through. So instead of chasing after his intended target, Flamingo turned the car south and drove away from the intersection at 12th and Hale.
Larissa Diaz, the traitorous daughter of a traitorous coward, had been found again after running away from El Penitente. She was going to be punished for her crimes, and if Flamingo was very lucky, it would be his job to do it.
One night in Gotham City, a sextet of criminals were abducted by the mysterious crime lord known only as 'the Voice' and blackmailed into acting as his agents in the field!
The Six were deployed to Blackgate Penitentiary to liberate the career criminal Kostas Agrios.
They succeeded, though not without complications: Mister Toad split off from the rest of the group to rescue his old ally, Professor Pyg.
For deviating from the mission, Toad was punished by having to watch another of his Circus of the Strange allies-- Phosphorous Rex-- be transferred to Belle Reve Penitentiary, one of the most dangerous prisons in the world.
Now, the Six await their next mission, knowing full well what disloyalty to the Voice will bring...
WHO ARE THE...
? ? ? ? ? ?
? ? ? ? ? ?
Cluemaster (Arthur Brown) - Genius inventor. Expert at subterfuge. Not as smart as he thinks.
Mister Toad (alias 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. Learning to move past her grudges.
Sickle (Timur Abramovichi) - Hulking Siberian ex-pat. Criminal enforcer. Southpaw.
Copperhead (Larissa Diaz) - Former assassin for the Penitente Cartel. Master contortionist Expert in poisons. The only real professional here.
Also featuring…
The Voice - Mysterious crime lord. Enigmatic extortionist. The one in charge.
Dale - Caretaker of the House of Strangers. Right hand to the Voice. Doesn’t suffer fools.
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DC2 Presents…
SECRET SIX #10
“How to Escape Your Toxic Family”, Part 1
Written by UltimateDC
Cover by [uncredited by request]
Edited by: House Of Mystery
THE PAST - SANTO LINO, MEXICO
The sound was loud and sudden, and forced Larissa Diaz awake. She heard a voice speaking, a smooth, older voice that said in Spanish, <“You idiot. You have a child to take care of and this is what you do to her? You deserve what you got.>”
Larissa wanted to know what was happening. Quietly as she could, she got out of her bed and crept across her room to the door, making sure to avoid the spots on the floor that she knew made creaking sounds. When she reached the door, she pulled it open and looked outside.
In the main room of the Diaz house were two people, a man and a woman, who Larissa recognized as associates of her father. The first was a slim woman of fifty, dressed in a tailored pinstripe suit and a matching fedora. The other man was tall, broad-shouldered, and holding a gun. He was standing over someone lying on the floor, but Larissa couldn’t see who it was.
Slowly, she pushed open the door to get a better view.
The creak that came from the hinges was so sudden and so loud in the quiet night that it sounded like a bomb going off.
The man holding the gun looked directly at her. Even through the dim lights of the main room, Larissa could see the grit and the anger etched onto his face. He marched towards Larissa’s room, and Larissa pushed the door shut and ran back to her bed and threw herself under the covers, trembling.
She heard the door to her room burst open and screamed when the man yanked the covers from her bed, grabbed her by the arm to force her to her feet and pulled her into the main room. Larissa was then on her knees, shaking with fear, when the large man put the tip of his gun against the back of her head.
It was still warm…
<”Stop!”> shouted the woman in the pinstripe suit. <“For god’s sake, Cazador, she’s his daughter!”>
‘Cazador’ growled but pulled his gun away from Larissa’s head. She chanced a look at the man lying down on the ground.
It was her father, and he wasn’t moving.
Her gaze was forced away when the woman in the pinstripe suit rushed to embrace her. <“Don’t look, girl, it’ll only hurt you,”> she said in as comforting a voice as she could muster. <“Just let Tia Lola take care of you, and it’ll all be alright.”>
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Larissa knew this to be a lie, but in that moment, she was too scared to do anything but believe what ‘Tia Lola’ was saying…
THE PRESENT - THE HOUSE OF STRANGERS, OUTSIDE GOTHAM CITY
It had been five days since the breakout from Blackgate Penitentiary, and despite the best efforts of the Secret Six, things weren’t returning to normal-- -- or at least, what passed for normal in the House of Strangers.
Copperhead and Mist were-- although they’d never admit it-- happy to have the boys back under the same roof. Being the only two team members in the House hadn’t been a pleasant experience for either of them -- they didn’t get along well and attempts to bridge that gap had been less than successful.
Cluemaster and Sickle were both, to some degree, glad to be out of Blackgate. However, they were also keenly aware of the reality of their situation: they were still very much prisoners. They had simply traded a grievous cage for a gilded one.
Double Down, meanwhile, was overjoyed to be back in the House of Strangers. Prison had terrified him more than anyone else and it was a welcome to comfort to be in a place where no one (he assumed) wanted to shank him.
Strangest of all was Mister Toad. Ever since the night the Voice had arrange for Phosphorous Rex to be transferred to Belle Reve, Toad’s moods had been almost bipolar. When he was with the others he seemed defiantly happy. He had a spring in his step, he whistled old songs, he did odd favors for the rest of his housemates. It was as if he set out to prove he was unperturbed by his friend’s dire situation.
However, when he was alone, he was angry and terse, growling curses underneath his breath and muttering all the things he was planning on doing to the Voice once he got his hands on him. He was also drinking quite a bit more, to the point where Dale threatened to stop bringing alcohol into the House of Strangers.
After that, Toad had asked Cluemaster if he knew how to distill his own moonshine.
Brown thought it best if he answered, “No.”
It was midday on the fifth day when Dale summoned the Six into the library. They took their seats around the conference table and watched as the large TV flickered on.
The familiar, anonymous visage of the Voice appeared, staring down at them with emotionless red eyes. <My Six… I trust you’ve had time to recover and reflect on your last assignment?>
They said nothing to the distorted tone, but all glanced at Toad. He had nonchalantly pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket, put it between his green lips, and lit it with a cheap plastic lighter. It was his own means of disrespecting his captor without explicitly endangering any of his other Circus of the Strange allies.
If the Voice had any reaction to the act, his visage and his tone didn’t show it. <Your next assignment will begin tomorrow. You will be protecting this woman.>
The image on the screen changed to a press photo of a pretty blonde woman with a perky smile and teeth so white they could’ve been made of sugar. She was dressed in professional, tailored attire and sitting in the front seat of a yellow taxicab.
<This is Nadine Corcoran of Dos Rios, Texas. Twelve years ago, she founded the Corcoran Cab Company, a business that currently has operations in fifteen cities across three states and is about to expand into Las Vegas.>
The screen switched back to the Voice’s silhouette.
<She also runs the biggest drug distribution network in the American Southwest. Ms Corcoran believes one of her former clients has marked her for death, and it will be your duty to ensure her protection.>
“At least we’re not in the ass-end of the planet this time,” muttered Mist.
“Or prison,” Sickle added.
However, there was something about this that was troubling Copperhead. She didn’t recognize the name of their primary, but she recognized that face from somewhere-- that overly sweet, overly practiced smile was hard to forget. Then she remembered where she’d seen it before.
“Who’s targeting her?” she asked, dreading the answer.
The Voice answered, <The Penitente Cartel.>
The other five immediately turned to face Copperhead. None of them knew exactly what to say at this point. They knew Copperhead worked for the Cartel before being press-ganged into the Six. What they didn’t know was what she made of this assignment-- her expression betrayed nothing.
<Will that be a problem?> the Voice asked.
“No,” said Copperhead. Would it matter if it did? she wanted to say, but thought better of it.
<Good. You’ll be departing tonight at 1700. I trust you’ll stay on-mission this time. You all remember the price of failure.>
Mister Toad tensed up, crushing the cigarette between his fingers, but said nothing. Then the screen went dark and the Voice was gone.
They all waited a moment to make sure that the briefing was over.
When it was clear that there was nothing left to be said, Sickle stood up and walked away from the table, followed soon after by Mist, Double Down and Toad, who casually flicked the ruins of his cigarette over his shoulder before he left the library.
Copperhead stayed in her seat, her mind racing and her expression still unreadable. She didn’t know what this assignment meant for them-- for her. Knowing the Six’s luck, the whole thing would go sideways before it all ended, but what were they likely to face?
Who were they likely to face? And what would she do if she was confronted? Could she betray the Six, side with the Cartel, and risk the wrath of the Voice? Or would she stay with the mysterious blackmailer who had kept her prisoner for months, almost gotten her killed several times, forced her to work with asinine amateurs like these…
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Cluemaster’s question broke her out of her trance. His tone sounded genuine, but Copperhead knew better than trust the likes of Arthur Brown.
“What do you care?” she snapped back.
Copperhead knew nobody in the House of Strangers truly gave a damn for one another; this was at most a business relationship, a means to an end. She wasn’t here to make friends, she was here to survive, to make it to the other end and hopefully get something out of it.
Later that night, she realized it was just like working for the Cartel.
For all the changes in her station, she was still just a pawn in someone else’s game.
THE NEXT DAY - DOS RIOS
There was a persistent, awkward silence that permeated the group during their cross-country trip. None of them knew how Copperhead would handle herself on this assignment, least of all Copperhead herself. She spent their flight across the country alternatively sharpening her claws on a stone or staring out the window in silent contemplation.
The rest of the Six alternated between sleeping, reading up on their client, or in Double Down’s case, play round after round of solitaire.
Those that read the dossiers they were provided found them wholly pedestrian and uninteresting: a collection of press clippings, interviews, and puff-piece biographies. By all accounts, Nadine Corcoran was a self-made businesswoman whose success came from wits, ingenuity, and true grit.
Of course, most of these accounts came from Corcoran herself, often accompanied by pictures of her smiling face. No mention was made of her criminal endeavors, nor even a hint of suspicion. She had apparently taken the notion hiding in plain sight to its logical extreme.
When the Six landed in Dos Rios, they were met with an uncomfortably balmy summer night. Three taxicabs were waiting for them, complete with three very confused and intimidated drivers, one of whom had the unfortunate task of telling Mister Toad that no, he couldn’t drive one of the cars back.
Still, the Six piled into their transports and were taken away from the airport and to the headquarters of the Corcoran Cab Company.
They were escorted from the complex’s massive garage to a private elevator that took them directly to Corcoran’s office. Inside, standing near a desk, there was an imposing man in a black suit, an ensemble he completed with a bolo tie and a straw cowboy hat.
Unlike the cab drivers, he merely regarded the Six with an air of suspicion, with some of them noticing his hand drift towards the inside of his jacket that was undoubtedly where he holstered his gun.
Standing behind the desk and facing away from the Six was a woman in a blue blazer and skirt, her blonde hair in an impeccably-tied bun, and her ear to a phone.
“Listen, Paul-- can I call you Paul?” she spoke quickly and with a distinctive southern twang. “Listen, Paul, I’ll fly to Vegas soon, we’ll have lunch, we’ll sort this whole thing out, make a day of it.” She paused, then gave a laugh that sounded just disingenuous enough that it would seem real over the phone.
The man in the cowboy hat gave a fake cough. The woman glanced over her shoulder, barely acknowledging the Six, before she resumed her phone call. “Paul, I gotta go, I have another appointment, but my assistant will get in contact with you, work out the details, and we’ll get this deal going.” She paused again. “Alright, you too. Buh-bye.”
She clicked the phone off and let out a beleaguered sigh. She now sounded as if every ounce of sweetness had been washed out of her. “I swear, I need a shower every time I talk to that son of a bitch.” She shuddered, then straightened herself up, turned around, and faced the Six properly. “Now let’s see what we’re workin’ with.”
She looked the group over, taking them in one by one, inspecting each of them. When she was done, she shook her head. “Yeah, this ain’t gonna work. Y’all can go home.”
The Six looked at each other, confused. Cluemaster spoke up. “Why exactly isn’t this going to work?”
The woman rolled her eyes. She said to the man in the cowboy hat, “Hey Dutch, what word would you use to call these here folks?”
“Conspicuous, Ms Corcoran,” he answered.
“Exactly,” said Corcoran. “I’m supposed to be a public figure and y’all look like you’re askin’ for some fella in a cape to kick your asses back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I can’t be seen riding around with super-villains! I got a reputation to maintain!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thanks for comin’ in, but we’re goin’ in a different direction. Dutch’ll see you out.”
Dutch approached them, looking as if he was eager to quell any resistance, but then it was Copperhead who spoke up. “If you choose a different team, then you will die.”
He reached for her first, but in flash Copperhead grabbed his arm, twisted it, and forced him to the ground. Dutch struggled against her but couldn’t escape the hold. As he fumed in her grasp, Copperhead continued, “I’ve been fighting El Penitente my whole life. I know their tactics, I know their operatives, and I know what they're capable of. If you hire anyone else to protect you, none of you will survive. Our team is the only way you’ll make it out of this alive.”
With that, she set Dutch free from her hold, shoving him away and sending him to the ground. He recovered quickly, stood up, and was about to reengage with Copperhead when he heard a voice say, “Stop.”
It was Corcoran who spoke up, and for the first time they all saw how truly exhausted she was. “Fine,” she said. “Y’all can stay, but you need to get some different clothes. This ain’t Gotham City; y’all gotta look like professionals.”
“We can do that,” said Cluemaster, who was kept a nervous eye on Dutch. “Why don’t you start by telling us why the cartel is targeting you.”
Corcoran let out a heavy sigh. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.
After taking her first smoke, she said, “When I was just starting out, business was good. Great, even. I was moving drugs all over this city, making money hand over fist, and the cops had no idea we even existed.”
She took another puff.
“But then the DEA started sniffin’ around. My guys were getting arrested, product was being seized; seemed like only a matter a’ time before they got to me. I was scared, and I was desperate, so when someone from the cartel offered to help me, I said yes.”
She took another long drag on her cigarette.
“The cartel has ways of makin’ cases against ‘em disappear, of turnin’ folks over to their side. I didn’t know how and I didn’t wanna know, but in a week’s time the DEA was off my back and my business was mine again. And lemme tell ya, business was boomin’ after that. I was back on top and no one was gonna stop me.”
She almost seemed happy at this part of the story, but then was brought back down.
“Then a few days ago, the cartel came back. They wanted payment for that favor they did for me. I offered ‘em money, but they said no. They said they wanted to buy the business from me. I could stay running the public side a’ things, but they’d get the drug operation. So naturally, I told ‘em to go screw themselves! I built this business with my own two hands! I wasn’t gonna sell it, least of all to some cocky bastard thinks I owe my success to him.”
“And now they’re trying to kill you?” asked Cluemaster.
Corcoran took another drag on her cigarette. “I guess some folks just can’t handle a powerful woman, y’know?”
Mist said, “You recognize that this is entirely your fault, right?”
Corcoran responded by rubbing out her cigarette on her desk. “I don’t dwell on the past, hon. Right now, they’re gunnin’ for my head and you geniuses are gonna keep me alive. Comprende?”
They all gave their own confirmation that they understood her, though for some it was half-hearted at best.
Corcoran concluded, “Good. You’ll be working with Dutch here. He’s my head of security. Used to play linebacker for the Diablos, now he works for me.” She said this as if it were an accomplishment on her part. “Now I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve had a hell of day, so why don’t I head home and we’ll get started on this tomorrow?”
Without waiting for a response or a protestation, she left the office, with Dutch picking up a briefcase and following quickly after her.
Copperhead sighed. This was going to be a long, difficult assignment.
MEANWHILE…
There was a reason El Penitente had quickly become the most feared criminal organization in Central America. Their leader, Don Gabriel Santo, knew early on that the next great arms race would not be based on bullets or bombs, but on genetics. People with superhuman capabilities were the future, and Don Gabriel was determined to plant his flag there before anyone else could.
He struck gold when he discovered the work of Doctor Sabina Cuervo, a scientist who had been experimenting with metahuman abilities-- including on herself, discovering her own dormant metahuman genes and granting herself great psychic powers.
The cartel agreed to back her research in exchange for her doing the occasional favor for them. Doctor Cuervo was nothing if not morally flexible, especially if it led to scientific progress, so she agreed to work for the cartel, and eventually created their deadliest enforcers and assassins, collectively known as Los Parajos.
The first recruits into the group came quickly, with Don Gabriel supplying more test subjects than Doctor Cuervo could handle. She soon found two who had both latent metagenes and a willingness to work with the cartel.
The first was Carmen Aguila, an enforcer whose family had a long history of working for El Penitente. She jumped at the chance to work for them and was rewarded for her loyalty with strength enough to crush a boulder and muscles and skin so dense they could stop a car.
The second recruit wasn’t quite so loyal-- though more dependable than most.
Juan Papagayo was a grifter and con man whose attempts to work over the Cartel left him with a sizable debt. Given the choice between being a subject in Doctor Cuervo’s experiments and a painful execution, he chose the former. Papagayo was often regarded for his outsized personality and tendency towards tall tales-- he often claimed to be the descendent of a notorious Old West outlaw-- but his metahuman power of shapeshifting proved an invaluable asset.
Papagayo may have been motivated by fear and greed more than loyalty, but he was just as easy to lead as a sycophant like Aguila.
The last of the Parajos didn’t have powers-- and was dangerous enough not to need them. His name was Eduardo Flamingo, and there was a time when he was the deadliest agent the federales had, a perpetual thorn in the cartel’s side.
When he was eventually captured, Don Gabriel dispatched Doctor Cuervo to convert him to the side of the devils. Her work-- a mixture of telepathic conditioning and a partial lobotomy-- was only so successful: Flamingo was no longer with the federales, to be certain, but his servitude in El Penitente was one of convenience.
Flamingo had been stripped of all his inhibitions and completely given in to his id: he became a sadist; a gleeful killer, a cannibal, and adopted a style of dress that Papagayo liked to refer to as a ‘Purple Rain abomination’.
Flamingo was as dangerous as ever-- moreso, due to his unpredictability-- and was prone to going off-mission, easily distracted and unrepentant in his pursuit of his own desires.
Together, Los Parajos were the most dangerous, most effective band of killers that the Cartel had in their employ.
Normally, they wouldn’t be bothered with someone as insignificant as Nadine Corcoran. This was a group that was dispatched into warzones. The Cab Queen of South Texas wasn’t exactly their usual mark, especially not for all four of them.
However, rumors swirled that Corcoran had found outside help of the superhuman variety, and the added firepower of Los Parajos was necessary to get the job done.
For now, they waited in the wings and kept a watchful eye on Corcoran’s holdings, her business, and herself. When the time was right, when they had all the information and knew exactly who and what they were dealing with, they would strike.
FIVE DAYS LATER
The Six were desperate for someone to try and kill Nadine Corcoran, because if it didn’t happen soon, one of them might try it themselves.
Nadine didn’t take to protective services well.
First, it was refusing to let herself be seen with any of the Six for fear they would tarnish her sterling reputation, preferring instead the company of Dutch or no one at all.
She eventually compromised by allowing Mist-- the only one of the Six without a criminal record-- to be her escort, provided she never use her powers in public and get what Nadine called 'a real gun-- not that peashooter ya keep in your back pocket.'
Next, she threw a fit at the notion of leaving her luxurious mansion in favor of moving into a safe house. She reminded them how hard she worked, how much she struggled, how far she had come, and if she was going to die, she at least wanted to die in a place she built.
It wasn’t until Dutch gently reminded her that the goal was for her to not die at all that she relented, and Nadine was promptly settled in a small two-bedroom in downtown, not far from her company.
Duties were divided up thus: Dutch and Mist would act as Nadine’s drivers and shadows, accompanying her everywhere and ensuring her safety. Cluemaster and Copperhead were in charge of research, of finding out who the Cartel would send and when they would attack. Sickle and Double Down were delegated to the company itself, taking it in shifts to watch it for anything suspicious.
That left Mister Toad with the unfortunate (and non-negotiable) duty of staying in the safe house, protecting Nadine during the nights before she went to work. Toad, having finished a stint in solitary confinement not too long ago, wasn’t eager for another bout of being trapped and alone indoors. However, the Six were quick to remind him that he didn’t exactly blend in, and the best place for him was where no one would see him.
That became their routine. Every day, three cars would drive from the safe house to the company: Nadine, Dutch, and Mist were in one, and Copperhead and Cluemaster driving two decoys.
They’d spend their days fulfilling their respective jobs, with Copperhead and Cluemaster giving relief to Sickle and Double Down, before the day ended and they went home in the same order, all the while them having to tolerate the natural disinterest they had in each position.
On the evening of the fifth day, as they were getting into their cars preparing to head back to the safe house, Mist approached Copperhead and Cluemaster alone.
“One of you guys needs to switch with me,” she said. “Just for tonight, you can stay on Nadine, because I really need to be alone.”
“What’s wrong?” Cluemaster asked.
“What’s wrong is that I can’t be around those people anymore!” Mist did her best to hold in her anger and her frustration, but it still managed to seep out. “Every time-- every time the princess and her pet ogre see a brown person, they act like it’s about to turn into a shootout! It’s exhausting, like I’m living with my dad and my brother again. I just need a breather. One of you can stick with them tonight, I’ll drive the decoy car.”
Cluemaster sighed. “Mist, we have a plan in place. Just because you’re a little uncomfortable doesn’t mean you can-”
“I’ll do it,” said Copperhead, a wry smile on her face. “The big guy’s been giving me the side-eye since we got here. I’d like to see him try it when I’m close enough to slash his throat.”
Mist brightened immediately. “I like the way you think.” With that, they parted ways to their new respective cars, leaving a stammering Cluemaster with no other option beyond accept the change, go towards his own car, and hope that this didn’t go the same way as the Blackgate job.
Copperhead got into the backseat of her car, Nadine next to her and Dutch in the driver’s seat. As she did, Dutch turned around and asked, “Where’s Mist?”
“New plan,” she answered. “We’re switching up the order we do things. We need to be unpredictable, keep Penitente off their game.”
Dutch was about to protest, but Nadine nodded. “Smart. Those people are wily. If we get stuck in a rut, that’s how they’ll get us.”
Copperhead didn’t bother to disseminate what Nadine meant when she said ‘those people’. Instead, she took her small satisfaction in watching Dutch grumble and mutter out a curse as he faced front again, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot towards the safe house.
Each of the cars took a different route to the safe house, often circuitous and overlong, and theirs was no exception. As Dutch pulled to stop at an intersection, he noticed a vagrant with an unruly beard and a shabby coat on the corner stir at the squeak of the car breaks.
He stumbled to his feet in a delirium and approached the car awkwardly, with an old crumpled newspaper in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. Without asking for permission, he sprayed what they hoped was glass cleaner on the front window and began scrubbing it with the newspaper.
“No thanks!” Dutch shouted at him, a thinly-veiled threat masked as a polite request. The vagrant appeared to not hear him or ignore him and moved on to the driver’s side window. Growing more frustrated, Dutch rolled it down and said, “Listen, buddy--”
The gun appeared and went off before anyone had a chance to react. By the time Copperhead and Nadine realized what had happening, Dutch had a hole in his head and the vagrant’s hand was stretching unnaturally through the open window towards the latch of the car door.
Nadine let out a scream that could shatter glass, but Copperhead was already moving. As the vagrant pulled the door open, she leapt between the front seats and tackled him onto the pavement outside. His gun clattered to the ground as Copperhead slashed across his throat, blood gushing out beneath his shocked face.
It was then that Copperhead saw his face change. His shaggy, unkempt grey hair receded into a perfectly styled shape. His beard did the same until there was nothing left but a pencil-thin mustache. His flabby frame shrank into a slender figure. It was then that Copperhead recognized him.
“Papagayo,” she hissed. El Penitente had sent in the big guns for this assignment. She was outmatched, and she needed to extract herself and her primary from this situation as soon as possible.
Copperhead rushed back to the car and pulled Dutch’s limp body from the driver’s seat, letting it drop unceremoniously to the concrete. She looked back at Nadine and asked, “Are you alright?”
Nadine was too shocked and too out of breath to give any response beyond looking at Copperhead. She took that to mean she was uninjured.
Copperhead grabbed at the radio at her side and said into it, “Primary has been attacked at 12th and Hale. I need backup here, right now--”
POP! POP!
The bulletproof windows of the car cracked against Papagayo’s gunshots. He had used his powers to close the wound on his throat, but he had lost a substantial amount of blood, and what was left was tainted by the debilitating poison Copperhead laced her claws, throwing off his normally impeccable aim.
Copperhead felt her infuriation rise. One way or another, she was going to end this right now.
“Stay here,” she said to Nadine as she threw the door shut, stepped over Dutch’s body, and marched towards Papagayo. The gunslinger tried to get a shot off at her, but she was too quick, and he was too obvious.
As she closed the gap, about to run him through with her claws, she heard the faint sound of a motor running. She had just enough time to turn her head to see it when a blur of pink and purple shot past her, followed by something wrapping around her neck and dragging her to the ground.
Copperhead looked up to see a man with short white hair, dressed in a garish pink attire and a domino mask, standing in front of a matching motorcycle that was sliding across the cement street and holding the whip that was currently choking her. Her eyes went wide with fear as she recognized her attacker.
“Fla…Flamingo…” she managed to spit out as the world began to grow dim.
Eduardo Flamingo, his face affixed with a grin that would send shivers down the spine of most, approached Copperhead, his grip on the whip unflinching. When he was close enough, he leaned down to her level and whispered in her ear, <“Hello, Larissa. Let’s take you home. Your Tia misses you so much.”>
THE PAST - SANTO LINO, MEXICO
It had been ten years since Larissa was adopted by Tia Lola. In that time, she had been trained in much the same way her father had been. Donato Diaz was one of the deadliest killers El Penitente ever had-- a fearsome fighter with an intimate knowledge of poisons and toxins.
His daughter had an aptitude for the same, but unique to her was a talent for contortion that bordered on the superhuman. Don Gabriel insisted that it be cultivated, and by the time Larissa was sixteen, she could break into any building, escape from any restraint, and knew every poison she could get her hands on.
Don Gabriel decided now was the time for her to begin to earn her keep, and Tia Lola had little choice but to agree. Larissa’s first kill was to be Javi Nieves, a low-level dealer for the Cartel who had a habit of blurting out secrets when he was drunk and, despite promises to quit drinking, continued to go to the bar night after night.
He needed to be silenced permanently and it was Don Gabriel’s insistence that Larissa be the one to do it.
On the night the hit was to happen, Larissa was in the gymnasium, training. She didn’t know much else beyond her regiments, and it was the closest thing she knew to relaxation. She was nervous; Tia Lola and her trainers were quick to remind her that one day, she’d be using her vast talents to kill for El Penitente.
However, knowing this in the abstract and facing the reality of it were two different things. Larissa tried to focus on her training, but she was distracted and preoccupied, and capped off her training routine by over-extending her last flip and landing roughly on the mat beneath her.
Tia Lola was at her side quickly, helping her up and leading her to take a seat on a bench. Larissa’s delirium cleared quickly, and she did her best to hide her embarrassment from her guardian.
<“Feeling nervous?”> Tia Lola asked as she offered Larissa a bottle of water.
The answer was yes, but Larissa was told to never to lie to her Tia Lola, so instead she said, <“I’m ready to do what the Penitente needs of me,”> hoping that the more she said it, the more true it would become.
Tia Lola sighed and put down the bottle. She turned to face her ward directly. <“Larissa,”> she said. <“I think it’s time I told you how your father died.”>
Larissa froze. Memories flooded back into her mind: the POP! sound that woke her up, the scent of blood and smoke, the sensation of her tia holding her close and covering her eyes. Larissa forced these memories down and away, as she had done so many times before.
Her guardian continued. <“Donato’s latest mark was the mayor of Santo Lino. He promised he was going to crack down on cartel violence, draft new laws and work closely with the federales and the American DEA. On the night of the hit, Donato fear got the better of him. He tried to run, but we stopped him. He told us he wouldn’t kill for the Cartel anymore, wouldn’t take the life of an honest man with a family that depended on him. He wanted to cut a deal with the federales, take you, and run away to America. So, Cazador and I had to put him down.”>
She leaned in close to Larissa, never breaking eye contact. <“Your father betrayed the Cartel and got himself killed because of his cowardice. You can’t make the same mistake, or I won’t be able to protect you, mija. Promise me you’ll do as Don Gabriel asks.”>
Larissa was choking back tears when she said, <“Yes, Tia Lola.”>
Tia Lola gave her ward a sweet smile and hugged her-- a rare gesture, but one that Larissa craved. She hugged her guardian back, and when they were done, Tia Lola said, <“Get dressed, my little Copperhead. You have a job to do.”>
Then she stood up and left Larissa alone in the gym.
Larissa was told to never lie to her Tia Lola, but now she didn’t care. She was trembling in her sorrow, in her anger, as she thought about how few memories of her father she still had and how many were taken away by the people who stole her, raised her to be a tool, a weapon for the organization that destroyed her life.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t walk down the same path as her father did, or she’d end up just like him or worse. One way or another, she was going to escape from the Penitente Cartel.
THE PRESENT - DOS RIOS
Copperhead held on as long as she could before El Falmingo’s whip around her throat caused her to pass out. Her attacker wasted no time, gathering up his weapon and using it to tie Copperhead up tight enough that she wouldn’t be able to escape-- or at least, not until after they crossed the border.
When he was done, Flamingo picked up Copperhead’s limp, restrained body and walked it past the paralyzed and very confused Papagayo, towards the car that she had been in. He opened the trunk of the car, dropped her in roughly, and closed it. He then got into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him.
Eduardo Flamingo didn’t seem to notice or care when Nadine Corcoran scrambled to get out of the back seat and run away fast as he could. When he had a desire in mind, there was little that could distract him from seeing it through. So instead of chasing after his intended target, Flamingo turned the car south and drove away from the intersection at 12th and Hale.
Larissa Diaz, the traitorous daughter of a traitorous coward, had been found again after running away from El Penitente. She was going to be punished for her crimes, and if Flamingo was very lucky, it would be his job to do it.