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DC: Courting Vipers ch 4

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Chapter 4: Persistent Bad Luck

It did not take a genius to figure out the huge athlete rich guy was angry to find a Metahuman criminal mercenary in a room with his younger sister.  The way Anthony’s nostrils flared as he inhaled and exhaled slowly made him look like a huge, redheaded bull working up the energy to charge at something and gore it with his horns.  Copperhead could only thank his lucky stars the guy wasn’t a human bull, and took a few steps back, eager to keep a healthy amount of distance between them.  Leslie thankfully, seemed to catch on immediately, and stood between him and her brother, trying to keep them arms’ length apart.

“Anthony, Anthony, calm down.” She said quickly, trying to motion for him to relax.  “It’s okay, he’s a friend.”

“That’s assuming a bit, there.” Copperhead remarked, folding his arms.  He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well at all, and started to entertain what would happen if he tossed this guy out the window instead.

“I agree,” Anthony fumed, “What is he doing in here, Leslie?  Doesn’t take a lot to tell he’s trouble.  And tell me the truth.”

“He didn’t think that I was honest with him, so I decided he had to see my piano.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, um…” Copperhead said, hissing slightly as he winced, gesticulating with his hands awkwardly, “We’ve, uh…we’ve met before.  Twice.  Your sister set the Justice League on me.”

“Only once.” She insisted, tossing him a hurt look.  “I keep telling you, the second time was not my fault.  I don’t even know how to get ahold of Batman.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Anthony waved his hands, trying to get both of them to quiet down for a moment.  “Hold on!  Sis, you set the Justice League on this guy?”

“Yes.” Copperhead answered.

“No,” Leslie said at the same time, “I only called the Daily Planet, asked for Lois Lane, and had her get in touch with Superman to help take care of things.  That was all.  And the thing with Batman was not my fault.  He just showed up at Eric Carroway’s party.”

“The Carroways’ party?” Anthony echoed, his eyes going huge, before he turned and glared at the thief.  “How many times have you freaking run into my sister, anyway?”

“If you’re counting tonight, this makes three.”

Anthony turned again, mixed emotions warring in his face as he stared openly at his younger sister.

“And why haven’t you told anyone about this, Les?” He asked.  “You should have said something to someone!  Mom, or Dad, or—“

“Tony, you know that if I said anything to Mom and Dad, they would flip and I’d never be let out of this dingy old house again.”

“You could have at least told me!”

“I tried to earlier, and I told you that I would be able to tell you the full story when I was ready.  Remember that?”

“Yes, but you said—“ he stopped abruptly, looking wildly between his sister and Copperhead, comprehension dawning on his face, and suddenly his expression became serious.  “Oh.  Ohhh…YOU!  You’re the guy.”

Copperhead furrowed his brows, quite lost by that point.  “Uh…” He managed to get out, before Anthony was abruptly waggling an accusing index finger in his face.

“You, it’s you, I’m sure of it!  You’re the guy!”

The snake-suit thief turned to the petite young woman beside him, gesturing kind of helplessly.  “Uh.  Did I miss something here?  Is there something I wasn’t aware of?” He asked.  To his utter surprise, Leslie turned a bright red, and determinedly looked away, refusing to make eye contact with him, folding her arms before her.

“Yes, there was.” She answered.  “Not that it’s anything you need to worry about.”

“I’m starting to think it is.”

“It isn’t,” Anthony jumped in before his younger sister could say anything, brandishing his hockey stick like he was holding a katana, “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.  Right now.”

He scowled back at the redhead, crossing his own arms, and his tail lashed back and forth behind him.  “I don’t think you’re quite aware who you’re threatening, amigo.” He replied.  “Laugh all you want when I’m not around, but don’t take me lightly.  A neck isn’t that hard to snap.”

“Is that a threat?” Anthony growled.

“Would both of you just chill a second?!” Leslie cried, stepping between them both again.  “Stop it, already!  So not cool!  You, don’t threaten my brother, and you Tony, quit messing with my friend!  Can’t you just both let it go, at least for my sake?”

“I told you, calling us friends is assuming a bit much, chica.”

“I agree, Leslie, it’s assuming way too much.  Besides, you think I’m just going to let it go that you have some super-criminal in your room?  And for what, to look at a piano?” Anthony shot back, exasperated.  “He’s dangerous.”

“Glad to hear somebody’s going to acknowledge that.” Copperhead muttered.  “And really, I’m ready to leave at any point in time, you know.”

“You’re not going to rob us.” Anthony said bluntly, clearly unable to believe this.

“Not really; you’re all loco enough I don’t think I wanna bother.”

“So you’re just going to leave?” Leslie asked, spinning around to stare at him, her eyes huge and full of hurt.  He stepped back warily, guilt washing over him.  It was irritating, feeling like he was being guilt-tripped, and he tried to shake it off.

“Yeah,” he answered, “And would you knock it off with the Bambi eyes?  Your brother wants me gone anyway.  Besides, if I hang around too long, the next thing I know, Green Lantern or somebody’s gonna show up and cuff me.”

“For the last time, you big doof, I did not call anyone!” Leslie protested, trotting after him as he made for the window.  He hopped onto the sill and glanced back over his shoulder at her, golden eyes flashing.

“I didn’t say you did…you’re just mala suerte, girl.” He answered coolly.  “Bad luck.”

His tail gave a sharp snap and he leapt from the window, vanishing from sight.  Leslie could only stare, confused and stung by the accusation, wondering if she would see him again.

*****


Ink wasn’t given to stressing about things around Jonathan’s laboratory.  Generally speaking, the Scarecrow kept things in working order, and what he couldn’t always do on his own, he had Twitch around for assistance.  There was very little for Ink to worry about, and at any rate, her focus had be on taking care of herself and her kitten as a priority as well.

At least, that was what she had been told several times when she had tried to insist that she was needed to stay and help.

In her heart, Ink knew it to be true.  She had to take care of herself and Bishop.

She still felt annoyed however, at the notion that she had been indirectly dismissed.

“Well,” she said to herself as she shopped, trying to find some groceries for her apartment, “Jonny will know that I’m needed when he finds out who was keeping his laundry and Twitch’s separate.”

She meandered down an aisle to look at sketchbooks, mostly to window-shop that particular aisle more than anything.  She really wanted a new sketchbook, and there were some pretty nice ones on the shelves, but she had to stick to her budget.  Even with a new job at the Iceberg Lounge as a bouncer, she had to make sure that she planned out her budget and purchases, and that meant she wasn’t able to indulge herself and just impulse-shop as often as she would have liked.

But I don’t need to; she told herself firmly, I can just be happy looking.

She wasn’t there very long when she realized that someone else had stepped into the aisle near her.  Instinctively, she pulled her scarf and hood around her tighter.  She didn’t like the thought that her appearance would scare somebody, and she hoped that the other shopper didn’t look at her too closely.  Still, as human curiosity would have it, Ink turned and looked at the other person, as people are apt to do.

The other shopper was a young woman a handful of years younger than her, with hair that was a bright, white-blonde, big blue eyes, and expensive-looking clothes.  Ink blinked a couple of times, and then went back to looking at the sketchbooks.

“Excuse me.”

She glanced up and saw the younger girl staring at her, holding up two different sets of stationary in either hand.

“Which one do you like better?” She asked.  “The scented carnation pink or the scented lilac purple?”

For a moment Ink was surprised that she was being asked such a question, but then she smiled behind the scarf and shrugged.

“They both sound nice!” She answered happily, and the girl beamed at her.

“Thank you!” She said cheerfully, “Then I’ll buy both!”

“You’re welcome,” Ink replied, and then, if only because she so rarely got an opportunity to talk to other people—strangers, that was—casually in public, she asked, “Whatcha buying ‘em for?”

The girl sidled over closer to her, glancing around as though they might be overheard, and dropped her voice down to a low whisper.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m friends with a super-villain.”

Ink turned and stared at her for a moment.

“I know, I know it sounds crazy,” the girl went on, talking about this like it was hardly crazy at all, or that it wasn’t peculiar to tell something like that to a complete stranger, “Especially ‘cause like, heh, I just met him a couple of weeks ago and everything and he’s a total jerk, but seriously, the poor guy doesn’t have a lot in the way of well, anything really.  A fashion sense among them of course, I mean, he runs around in an orange snake suit.  Can’t really say that that inspires confidence, can you?  Know what I mean?”

She blinked at the girl, rather at a loss for words, but just nodded in consent.  Really, what else could she do or say to that?

“So like, anyway,” the girl went on, tucking the sets of stationary in the crook of one arm while she waved the other one about, her long, super-fancy, fake nails shimmering like a first grader’s glitter-encrusted art project, “He got caught and wound up in prison…again.  And I’m not really sure how to help him or anything, but I thought about it, and like, I’m pretty sure people write to their family or friends when they’re in prison.  Like, they actually write letters.  I thought that was something that people totally forgot to do, you know, because we’ve got e-mail and texting and IM’ing and everything.  It’s like, some dying art form or something, like making stained glass windows, so I thought, heck, I’m going to learn how to do this.  It’s the least I can do for the poor guy.”

“Even if he’s a jerk to you?” Ink asked, genuinely impressed by the younger girl’s idea.

“Oh, of course!” She answered brightly, her eyes shining as she turned and smiled at her, and some of the valley girl impression that Ink had gotten from her voice appeared to vanish altogether.  “Sometimes you just have to keep trying, you know?  I get that Copperhead’s a jerk and he thinks I’m bad luck or something, but he’s not all that bad.  Maybe all he really needs is just somebody to be nice to him.  Besides, it’s just how guys are; they’re not all just going to admit they like having girls around to be sweet on them.”

Ink smiled.  This girl’s positive attitude was uplifting, at the very least, and she relaxed a little.  She had a feeling that perhaps maybe she wouldn’t have to worry much about Jonathan as it was, as well.

Abruptly the girl extended a hand, her smile growing warm.

“My name is Leslie.  Leslie Smith,” she announced, “Nice to meet you!”

*****


Prison.  He should have known the second he got back out there in the open and allowed himself to be seen, he would get caught once more and sent right back.  But of course, he hadn’t thought about that.

He blamed Leslie Smith.  The girl really was bad luck.  Her and her Bambi eyes.

She was the reason he had gotten into this mess…and yet, the thought of her and her big, hurt doe eyes staring at him kept him from hating her for it.  It made no sense, but that was just how it seemed to be.  Really, he knew she hadn’t been responsible for Batman finding him, or getting caught again; he just liked having someone to blame that on other than admitting it was his own fault.  To make matters even more confusing, her questioning his continual return to crime and getting caught all the time had him questioning it.

Why did he keep doing this?  What was the point of it all?  He always ended up with his tail in a cage again, his everything in pain from the beatings he got, and never once was there a decent pay-off.  He always kept telling himself the next time would be different, the next time would be his lucky break, yet it never happened.

“I can hear her voice already,” He muttered to himself, launching into a slightly unflattering imitation of Leslie, “‘Well like, duh, Luiz, like, I could have like, told you that!’”

He wanted to cackle at his mocking, but found he actually somewhat missed Leslie’s ability to talk.  It certainly would have kept him better company in this place.  He had been moved to a different penitentiary in Gotham this time, one that cracked down hard on its inmates, regardless of whether they were human, Metahuman, or otherwise.  Blackgate, it was called, and he figured the name was rather apropos, all things considered.

A dismissal buzzer sounded and the guards patrolled the halls as the cell doors opened.

“Yard time, you deadbeats!” One of less-pleasant guards barked.  “Fall in!”

They did, of course, with a great deal of mutinous mutterings, but Luiz kept silent.  He didn’t feel too keen on antagonizing the guards when he had been separated from his suit and was thus vulnerable.  Still though…the thought of being able to knock them senseless was helping him to keep a positive outlook on the matter, and he was unable to hold back a bit of a smirk as he was led through the halls toward their destination.

“What you smiling about, snake-boy?” Someone spat.  He didn’t bother looking around; at the moment, he hardly cared who had spoken to him.  They would get what was coming to them soon enough, and if he was lucky, he would get to watch and laugh the entire time.

“Oh, nothing.” He answered mildly, affecting cheery indifference.  At least he was going to get a bit of fresh air for a while.

The yard was essentially a huge complex with a thirty-foot stone wall surrounding it, and dozens of armed guards surveying and overseeing the activities of all inmates that were brought out.  They were either set to work with small, menial tasks to keep them calm, or they were allowed to exercise or simply stand around and relax for a few moments.  It was a bit depressing however, to think that this was the closest any of them could come to freedom for a while.

Luiz moved to a spot by the wall and leaned back, crossing his arms and looking away from everyone else in the yard.  He preferred to be left alone, which wasn’t hard to accomplish.  Most of the other inmates and the guards gave him a healthy distance amid mutterings against Metahumans, and more than once he had heard some of them suggest that he ought to be moved to Arkham or transferred to Belle Reve.

Idiots, he thought grumpily, I doubt they’d be this mouthy if I were in my suit.

Immediately, Leslie came to mind again.  Suit or no suit, he doubted he could scare her into shutting up for a second.  Of course, she didn’t seem to have anything against Metahumans, and she was sweet enough to him, so that was another matter altogether.

That thought brought back another twinge of guilt.  He had encountered her three times now, and each time, he had left practically spewing venom at the girl.  How she still didn’t hate him on sight and just continued to be overly-friendly was beyond him.  He wasn’t used to anyone valuing him as a person…and he wasn’t sure what the best way to handle it would be.

If I run into her again when I get out of here…I should apologize to her.

Chances were likely he wouldn’t, but he felt it was only fair that he should attempt to.

“HOI!!” A guard shouted, entering the yard complex through a door, waving something in his hand about in the air.  “WHICH ONE O’ YOU MUGS IS COPPERHEAD?”

He glanced up, immediately alert.  What the heck had he done now?  Slowly, he raised his hand into the air.

“Yeah…?” He called out tentatively.  The guard spotted him, lowered his hand, and made a sharp gesture for him to come closer.  He slowly started over, feeling ready to bolt at the first sign of things getting worse than they already were.  And considering all eyes in the yard were abruptly on him, it was already bad.

“You’ve got mail, scaly,” the guard said loud enough that probably half of everyone present could hear, “Guess somebody out there cares that you’re in here.”

“I have mail?” He echoed, stunned, slowing down.

“Yeah,” the guard said, a smirk just visible below his affected neutral expression, “You’ve got mail alright.  And it’s pink.”

He stopped mid-step, brakes screeching in his mind.  “Pink?” He said, feeling mildly disturbed.  No way.  There was no way…

“Yep,” the guard reaffirmed, not even trying to hide his amused smile now, “And it smells like bubblegum and strawberries.”

Snickers started up around the yard, and heat rushed to his face.

“Hey, who’s it from, snake man?” Someone yelled in a nasty voice, “Your mother?”

“No, man, no!” Another inmate guffawed, doubling over in laughter.  “Bubblegum and strawberry-scented means it’s his sister!”

“Or his boyfriend!” A third chimed in, and that did it.  Practically everyone was falling over laughing.  The muscles in his back tensed in anger as he glanced around, taking note of everyone that had started mocking the situation.  Forcing his expression to remain calm, he glanced back at the guard, working his jaw.

“Who’s it from?” He asked in a carefully-controlled voice.

“Says here it’s from a Leslie Smith.” The guard answered civilly enough as he glanced at the envelope.  Luiz’s tail gave a small lash as he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, would you mind holding onto it for me for a while, ese?” he asked, “I’m about to lose some of my privileges.”

“Wait, you’re what?” The guard asked dumbly.

“Hey, guys!  Fang-face’s boyfriend is named Leslie!” Somebody howled, and they all began to dissolve into laughter again.

Mala suerte.  Yeah, I’m going to be losing those privileges for a while.” Luiz muttered before turning and diving with a snarl at the offending inmates.
:iconreadplz::iconcommentplz::iconreadplz::iconcommentplz::iconreadplz::iconcommentplz::iconreadplz::iconcommentplz::iconreadplz::iconcommentplz::iconreadplz::iconcommentplz::iconreadplz::iconcommentplz:

Well, it's about time I finally got around to finishing this chapter! It's been giving me a bit of a time of it, trying to decide what I wanted to portray and what I didn't.  I feel like this one is a bit short and choppy, but I am satisfied with what I put into it so far, and how those things shall allow me segues into later chapters and plot points. So all in all, I'm content with it.

A special thanks to GrimesGen by the way; it's thanks to her that I could think of a theme for (and consequently, the resulting title of,) this chapter. *sits behind my desk laughing like an idiot*

Sorry about the lack of preview image for this chapter, by the way. ^^; I'll try to get one up when I've got the scanner up and working again.  All in all, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Oh Luiz, you poor silly thing. You never catch a break, do you?

First chapter: fav.me/d6br60f

Previous chapter: fav.me/d6pva61

Next chapter: fav.me/d7ndzb1

Copperhead, Batman: the Animated Series, Justice League, and all related elements and titles are © to DC Comics

Leslie Smith, Anthony Smith, and their family are all © to me

Ink is © to :iconshadobabe:

AMAZING NEW COVER ART BY GARobles

IF YOU STEAL MY WRITING, ART OR CHARACTERS, YOU CAN CONSIDER YOURSELF HUNTED DOWN AND REPORTED.
© 2014 - 2024 Yoru-the-Rogue
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EveApplefield's avatar
Haha; loooove the neding and how sweet she tries to be and how he just says so casually that he's going to lose his privileges ^^