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The Secret Six
Book One
Prologue
Barbara Gordon took a sip from the cup of café mocha she held in her hand. She often liked to have something to sip while she did her thinking. And this one was a doozy.
It had already been a few months since Kara died, but it still pained Babs to think of it. She had been one of her dearest friends. Perhaps her closest.
And she was a hero. A true hero. Her idealism and steadfastness as Supergirl had inspired Barbara even before she began her own career as the second Batgirl. And they had become close friends over the years. But Barbara could never think of herself in the same league as Kara.
And now this. A chance to be a hero again. Perhaps retiring Batgirl for good was the wrong idea.
Or was it?
Barbara Gordon picked up the phone, dialed a number, and said, "All right, I'm in. But not as Batgirl. From now on, you can call me Batwoman."
Part 1
Batwoman watched from the monitors in the other room as the others gathered in the makeshift headquarters in the supposedly abandoned warehouse. Sure, it was cliched place for criminals who had much to hide to gather, but it provided just as much cover for heroes with a clandestine mission.
The mysterious heroine known as the Black Orchid was the first to arrive, closely followed by Rory Regan, also known as the Ragman. While they began to talk, Onyx, a mysterious martial arts expert recommended by Green Arrow arrived, and finally Kirk Langstrom, who had the power to change into the Man-Bat, came into the room.
She listened for a while to the conversations breaking out between them all (although they were more or less aware of each other's reputations, none of them had met or worked with any other, save for Ragman and Man-Bat, both Gotham natives), and waited until the right time to make an entrance.
"I wonder what the hold-up is?" Onyx said to no one in particular. "When Green Arrow told me about this 'important mission', I was pretty hesitant at first, but it seemed like a good way to honor the memory of my Master, who trained me back at the Sanctuary in Star City."
"I was asked by the Batman himself to come," Langstrom said. "My 'unique abilities' may prove useful."
"Personally, I'm more concerned about Gotham right now," said the Ragman. "If I can make a difference for my city in this group, I'm glad to be a part of it. But what is there to wait for?"
"How about you, miss?" said Onyx to the Black Orchid, who had remained silent. "You haven't said much of anything since we arrived."
The Black Orchid only smiled enigmatically, and leaned back in her chair.
Then the new Batwoman entered the room. "Welcome to you all; I'm glad each of you could make it. These are dire times for Gotham City, and your abilities and areas of expertise will definitely be of use."
"One question," Langstrom said. "Where's the Batman?"
"We'll be getting to him in just a moment. For now, I'd like each of you to have a look at these files I've got for you." She handed each of them a couple of files, containing photos and documents. "The photos you see within are of our targets. Each one of them is a so-called 'super-villain', and many of them indeed have super-powers, and are to be considered very dangerous. We'll be going over them each in a moment. For now, watch the monitor screen before you."
Onyx turned to Black Orchid and said, "All business, isn't she?"
A dark figure slowly began to take shape on the monitor screen. It was the head of a man, wearing a cowl with pointed "ears" at both sides of the head. The eyes were white and squinted, and devoid of any noticeable pupils. The nose was covered, and drew to a point. It was only the mouth and lower part of the face which was uncovered. And this was in shadows, lighted on either side of the head, and to the back.
It was the Batman.
The cowled face of the Batman spoke on the monitor screen. "You may be wondering why I brought you all here."
Kirk Langstrom spoke up, "I'll say."
"As you know, Gotham City has seen its share of grim times lately. First, the Crisis on Infinite Earths, which wreaked havoc all over the world. We had only a couple of months to recover from that when, more recently, the entire inmate populations of both Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane and Gotham Penitentiary were set free by my old foe, Ra's al Ghul. Many of the worst were captured, but most are still free, out there to wreak havoc once again. Ra's al Ghul himself is believed to have died in an explosion, but he has been known to have 'died' in the past and come back despite everything. Shortly after this, the creature known as the Swamp Thing brought chaos to Gotham City after his lover was arrested and brought to trial, when he turned the entire city into a greenhouse out of control. Although the Swamp Thing was seemingly destroyed by some kind of 'ray-gun', the aftermath of this incident still affects Gotham."
"Can't be all that bad," the Black Orchid said to herself, smiling.
"My first and foremost purpose is first the apprehension of the criminals still on the loose, and then, should you be needed once again, those the law can't touch by conventional means -- criminals you will defeat by holding them up to public ridicule and mockery, hence my forebear's name, Mockingbird..."
Mocking-who? Onyx wondered silently.
"This is to be your first mission: The criminals shown in the dossiers given you are still on the loose. You will hunt them down and recapture them. Your leader is Batwoman. You are the Secret Six."
" 'Secret Six'?" Ragman remarked, looking around. "There's only five of us here... that is, unless you're considering yourself to be the sixth member?"
The screen faded to black.
"No, Ragman," Batwoman responded. "Our sixth member is already on his mission. We will be rendezvousing with him at a later time."
Part 2
"There you go, just a little further... yes!"
Batwoman quickly put her collapsible binoculars into her utility belt and leapt off the roof she was on into the alleyway below. Somersaulting off the walls of the narrow alley, she landed smoothly on a pile of flattened cardboard boxes, and hit the ground with a sprint.
Each of the members of the newly-formed Secret Six had gone off on their various assignments, given with respect to their skills and abilities, and Batwoman had drawn one of Batman's lesser criminals, the Signalman.
The Signalman's real name was Phil Cobb, and he had been a small-time crook who aspired to the big-time, and decided to build up a reputation with super-villain-like gimmicks. Thus, he became the Signalman, and used signals to give Batman clues to his crimes. Not all that smart, but hey, all the super-villains were doing it then... He ended up getting a reputation, all right. Except it wasn't one he wanted to have: "The guy Batman put in jail." He went for a short stint as the Blue Bowman, now with gimmicked-arrows based on those of Green Arrow's, but this short career fell flat as well. He soon returned to being the Signalman, and he was one of the many villains who were broken out of prison through the schemes of Ra's al Ghul.
It hadn't taken much more than a glance through the phone book and a few telephone calls for Barbara Gordon to discover that certain unusual equipment was recently being purchased, from a private source using cash only, from some Gotham electrical-supply companies with goods damaged in the recent Swamp Thing debacle, the likes of which only marijuana-growers... or super-villains with a signal or light gimmick would need. After a couple of days of staking out and keeping an eye on some electronic stores which sold items of the harder-to-get kind, she had soon found her man.
She'd allowed Phil Cobb to walk to his current place of residence, then waited for him to don his colorful costume as the Signalman before making her move. These things were done a certain way, you understand...
Batwoman ran silently towards the Signalman, but accidentally kicked a Coca-Cola can sitting on the street. The noise alerted Cobb, who presently began to run like hell toward the warehouse district.
Surprisingly enough, the Signalman gave Batwoman a good chase, keeping a lead on her just long enough to slip into one of the many abandoned warehouses in this area. Batwoman followed cautiously.
Stepping into the darkened warehouse, she called out, "Cobb! I know you're in here! Give yourself up!"
She quickly stepped sideways and crouched behind some empty shelving as she reached into her utility belt and pulled out some infrared goggles. She put them on as she rose again, and saw the Signalman dashing away on the other side of the large room. She pursued him again. Her vision was blocked, however, by several shelves, some of which were full of empty boxes.
Batwoman moved slowly now, and kept her eyes wide open for any movement in the narrow red field of vision her goggles allowed her. She heard a noise and suddenly turned her head to the left, seeing something move just out of sight as she looked that way.
She leapt from her spot and raced after the figure, but as she turned around the corner to continue her pursuit, the Signalman merely stood there and turned on a blinding white light in her eyes, causing her to lose all vision immediately.
Instead of crying out, she continued her pursuit blindly, but the Signalman had already vanished by the time she got there. Her goggles were useless now, and would be for the next couple of minutes until the spots before her eyes went away.
"Ah-ah-ha," someone said from behind her as two strong arms grabbed her.
Just as suddenly, she grabbed those arms and threw the man over her, knocking him to the floor. He groaned, but just as she began to come down on him to knock him unconscious -- the only option she had left -- she was struck on the back of the head by a blunt object.
Batwoman began to pass into unconsciousness just as she heard another voice say, "Well, you almost screwed that one up, Cobb." Babs recognized the voice as that of Crazy Quilt. She should've realized the Signalman might have an accomplice.
Then she passed out...
She woke up about twenty minutes later with a sore head and a bruised ego. She'd have to tell Ragman now that she not only lost her current target, but one of his as well. Oh well, at least those two bozos hadn't tried anything funny while she was out. Thank heaven for small favors.
Her return to crimefighting was definitely not going the way she'd hoped...
Part 3
Kite Man led Man-Bat on a merry chase through the dark gothic skyscrapers in Gotham City, many of which were still being cleared of vine-growths, and some of which having suffered damage from the saplings that were turned into old-growth trees by the Swamp Thing in his recent rampage. Every monster had to have a rampage once in a while. Even Kirk Langstrom had had his rampages as the inhuman werewolf-like Man-Bat in the past, and it was possible that he could have them again in the future. For now, though, his transformations were under control, and he was putting them to good use.
Although at this moment, he wished Kite Man would just give himself up; this chase seemed to have been going on forever.
"Catch me if you can!" Kite Man shouted backwards. He was obviously enjoying this. Man-Bat had to laugh. Why couldn't all super-villains be like this guy?
Kite Man began to sing loudly as he swooped and swerved away from Man-Bat:
"Fe-fe-fi-fi-fo-fo-fum,He laughed to himself for a moment more, then continued singing in a taunting way:
I smell smoke in the auditorium.
Charlie Brown, Charlie Brown,
He's a clown, that Charlie Brown,
He's gonna get caught, just you wait and see;
Why is everybody always pickin' on me?""That's him on his knees, I know that's him.The big joke, that Kite Man was virtually cracking himself up over, was that his real name was Charles Brown, called Chuck by his friends, and occasionally Charlie.
From seven come eleven down in the boys' gym.
Charlie Brown, Charlie Brown,
He's a clown, that Charlie Brown,
He's gonna get caught, just you wait and see;
Why is everybody always pickin' on me?"Who's always writing on the wall?
Who's always goofin' in the hall?
Who's always throwin' spit balls?
Guess who! Who, me? Yeah, you!""Who walks in the classroom cool and slow?"Why is everybody always pickin' on me?" Kite Man drawled one final time as Man-Bat grabbed ahold of his legs and forced him down towards the ground.
Who calls the English teacher Daddy-O?
Charlie Brown, Charlie Brown,
He's a clown, that Charlie Brown,
He's gonna get caught, just you wait and see;
Why is everybody always pickin' on me?And although he was attempting to do several things at once -- such as subdue his opponent, position him for as soft a landing as possible, and keep an eye out for any tricks -- he couldn't help but notice a crowd of people gathered around a downtown department store, including a mob of policemen, and what looked to be an almost-empty guard's uniform with red sludge dripping out of it?!?
"OOF!" Man-Bat hit the side of a large, gnarled oak tree and lost his grip on Kite-Man, who soared away, laughing like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.
Kirk Langstrom let him go. This seemed like more serious business than a overgrown kid with a kite-gimmick. It looked like he'd found Clayface...
"Commissioner Gordon," Man-Bat said, hanging from the Rosendale's department store ceiling above the older man.
"Gah!" Gordon yelped, startled. "Don't do that to me, Batman... wait a minute, Man-Bat, isn't it?"
"Can't you tell the difference?"
"You're not one to work with the police much, so why are you here?" Gordon questioned him as he lit his pipe and shook the lit match out.
"Same reason you're here, Commissioner," said Man-Bat in his best Batman-esque voice, "to stop Clayface from killing again."
"Well, you're right about one thing: this is definitely the work of Clayface. God, I knew something like this would happen soon, after he was broken out of prison with all the other psycho monsters." He stopped and looked up at Man-Bat, visibly gulping. "Er, no offense."
"None taken," Man-Bat said, an imperceptible smile on his face.
"Anyways, it doesn't appear that he had any motives for killing the security guard; nothing was found to be missing, except for the storefront mannequin. As near as we can figure it, he must've felt threatened. Maybe the guard saw him."
"Not likely, Commissioner," said Man-Bat, having seen the evidence firsthand. "At least, if he did see Clayface, it wasn't until he was just about to be killed."
"Then he has no motive at all! He just killed for the hell of it!" growled Gordon.
"Motives vary from man to man, even if that man is a monster," said Man-Bat.
"I suppose you're right," said Gordon, but looked up to see that his guest was already gone. "Don't tell me I'm gonna have to put up with that from him, too!" he mumbled to himself.
Part 4
It had taken a tiring seven-hour flight from Gotham City to Copenhagen, and then another hour or so from Copenhagen to Stockholm. And after that, a long bus-ride into Sweden's northern provinces. It seemed to her a wild goose chase, but according to the mysterious Black Orchid's varied sources, the man she was looking for was living in the mountainous regions of Härjedalen in Sweden, among a migratory tribe of Lapplanders, as they were called by others.
The Lapplanders called themselves by a different name, however: The Sami people. They were and are a fairly widespread people over northern Scandinavia, with several different tribes. They are hunters and gatherers, and are still the recognized "owners" of the reindeers, which they have herded for centuries on end. The Sami people have many characteristics in common with the Inuit, or Eskimo, people of northern Canada and Alaska, as well as the northern people in the northermost part of Russia; indeed, the Sami people and the Inuit people are related, if very distantly, coming from an originally Asian origin. After centuries of mixing, though, the Sami people began to look very much like they do today, and are physically similar to the Swedish and Norwegian people, complete with fair-colored skin and hair.
The Black Orchid had heard a rumor of a man who was living among the Sami people in the northern Swedish province of Härjedalen, a man who went half-naked in the snowy mountainous regions, and neither froze nor even felt cold. He had made friends and even staunch allies in one particular group of Sami people, and assisted them in their reindeer tracking and herding, sporadically over the years, but would be gone from their midst for long stretches of months and even years since he'd first come into their midst.
His existence was a closely guarded secret among them. Black Orchid would not have even heard about this man, had it not been for a few sightings by Swedes while hiking. A few of them had taken pictures, and somehow those pictures had filtered down to one of her many contacts, all across the world. When she let it be known that she was interested in information on such a man, no matter how far-fetched it may seem, the information was already there to be found.
She traveled the rest of the way herself, after leaving a bus at a local ski mountain, flying low over the tree-covered foothills and low mountains. The icy chill in the air was not pleasant for her. She would have far preferred a warm, humid climate to be in, rather than this cold, dry air that seemed to slowly suck all the moisture out of her.
It wasn't long before she approached the area where her sources told her she could find the tribe of Sami people which her quarry would have been staying with. She descended and landed in a wooded, snow-covered area not far away.
Part 5
"...And it looks like Crazy Quilt was also there. I'm sorry to say that I think both he and Signalman have gone back in hiding. Looks like the confrontation between the Man of Rags and the Villain of Quilts will have to be put off until another time..."
Rory Regan laughed into his telephone receiver as he kept one eye open for customers wandering around in his store. "Rags 'n' Tatters" was a family-owned affair founded by his late father, and while it had begun modestly as a place to sell goodies found discarded in junkyards, it had grown into a combination antique store, pawnshop, and thrift store, although Rory was still known, on occasion, to frequent junkyards far and wide for those forgotten treasures others had so callously discarded.
"Looks like," he said to Batwoman as he saw one of his regular customers, a young, raven-haired, half-native, half-Caucasian woman with pale skin who was known to occasionally prostitute herself out of desperation, walked up to the front counter with an old post used for cats to sharpen their claws with. "Listen, I've just got a customer here, I'll have to talk with you later."
"Sure thing, Rory," replied Batwoman on the other end.
"'Bye," he said, leaving his modest office desk in the back and walking up to the counter. "How you doing, Rebecca?" he asked the young woman with a smile. "Keeping out of trouble?"
"Well, you know," she replied, a sad smile on her face, "things haven't been going too good with me lately. The dress factory went out of business, what with all the structural damage lately and what-not, y'know? It's like, hard to find a job out there right now, y'know?"
"I know," Rory replied sadly, then looked at the cat-scratch post she put on the counter. "Another present for Mr. Muffins?"
Rebecca giggled for a moment as she remembered something. "Yeah, he totally ripped up Kevin's curtains. He was, like, so mad, that Mr. Muffins kept out of sight for a whole week, y'know? Kevin said to me, he said, 'You get that cat a scratch post, or I'm gonna send him out on his ass, and you with him!' or something like that, y'know? But I couldn't, like, afford the ones down at the Wal-Mart, y'know? Thought I'd find one here, though, and I was right!"
Rory continued to smile and listen as the young woman talked to him. With the life that many of these kids were forced to live in here in the slums, he always found it important to be a friend to them in any way he could; someone they could trust and someone around whom they could let their guard down, even if just a little bit.
As Rebecca smiled and walked away with her bag, he said, "Make sure to say 'hi' to Mr. Muffins for me, okay?"
"'Kay," she smiled, and walked back out onto the street.
The radio, which was always tuned to the local AM talk station, began the five o'clock news as Rory began the process of closing his shop and quietly waiting for the stragglers to leave. His ears perked up as one of the items of news was casually mentioned among those the reporters deemed to be more "important":
"...The body of a young woman was found in Park Row today, the area of Gotham City commonly known as 'Crime Alley'. The woman's body appeared to have been mutilated by a knife, and the police have confirmed that she was a known prostitute, the latest in a series of apparently unrelated murders of prostitutes in the east side..."
Rory Regan clenched his fist and took mental notes, as well as trying his best to keep from falling into the apathy that seemed to have a chokehold on the citizens of Gotham City. He was the Ragman, the protector of the slums, and if he didn't care and do something about it, nobody else would...
Part 6
"There go the last of the shoppers," said Commissioner Gordon to the figure hidden in a dark corner of the roof of the department store. He looked down as his men made sure nobody tried to go back in. "Give it a minute or two, and then you can move. Are you sure it's him?"
"Clayface? Oh yes," said Man-Bat. "He has a distinctive effect upon human tissue. Once seen, you don't forget it easily. Since the guard he killed was from Rosendale's, my bet is he's holed up in there somewhere." Preston Payne, the third Clayface, was easily the craziest and the most dangerous. He belonged in Arkham Asylum. "We ready, Commissioner?"
"When you are," Gordon replied. "Say, where has the Batman been lately?"
"I really don't know," replied Man-Bat, who quickly disappeared into the store via a rooftop entrance.
The grotesque, winged were-bat named Kirk Langstrom flew cautiously through the airy, open department store, keeping his keen bat-ears perked up for sounds of any kind. As the Man-Bat, he could never see as well as he could when he was in human form, but his heightened sense of hearing and the high-pitched sound waves he emitted which echoed back to him allowed him to 'see' better than he ever could with his unreliable human eyes.
He swooped back and forth, down several levels, until he was at the bottom. A distinct whirring sound came to him, although he could not at first figure out where it was coming from. He knew it was getting closer, though. He descended and furled his leathery wings, walking carefully through the darkened mall, coming closer and closer to the whirring sound.
Another sound, an electronic "DING!" was heard a split-second before the elevator door just behind him ripped open as if made of tin-foil.
The two monsters now faced each other.
"Payne?" said Langstrom. "Preston Payne?" He'd studied his files on the third Clayface to the point of exhaustion.
Man-Bat could hear the heavy breathing sound behind the clear bubble-like mask of the scientifically-advanced exo-skeleton suit Clayface wore to keep his destructive touch from destroying everything he came into contact with. The grotesque creature before him stared in astonishment, as if expecting someone else.
"I want you to listen to me... my name is Man-Bat. Everything's going to be alright."
Clayface's red eyes began to glower in red hatred, and he spoke, in a slow, carefully-enunciated, but startling normal voice: "Is that... what you said... to her?"
Langstrom stepped a pace back, confused. "Huh? I'm sorry...?"
Quicker than he could detect with his sonar senses, Clayface's gloved hand was around Man-Bat's hairy throat, choking him.
"You... haven't... begun... to be sorry!" He tossed the were-bat against a wall and watched him fall down to the ground.
"Did you laugh at me, you and her? Laugh behind my back? Hmmm? Is that what you did? Laughed??" Clayface began removing the protective glove from his left hand. "I must have been... a great source... of amusement to you... 'Look at Preston! Look at the cuckold! Isn't he funny?' Well, the fun's over now--"
As Man-Bat began rising and crouching in preparation, Clayface came at him with his ungloved hand and grabbed him by the shoulder.
"--and nobody's laughing anymore!"
The burn from Clayface's destructive touch seared through Man-Bat's hair-covered flesh as if a hot iron was pressed against it. He brought up his other arm and quickly slammed a strong fist into the creature's covered face, quickly escaping into the elevator shaft.
"The elevator?" said Payne, rising from the ground. "What's the point of trying to hide from me in... the elevator..." He took a look at the dark, empty shaft, and could see no one. "Aah. I see."
The creature called Clayface stalked over to the balcony and began climbing up a pillar, all the way from the first floor to the twelfth, his exo-skeleton providing him with extraordinary and unabated strength. This store was his home. He knew every department, every staircase, every restroom. On the twelfth floor, he saw that the elevator doors stood open. He laughed inwardly, thinking how carelessly he'd revealed his position. To think that she'd betrayed me with such a fool...
"I know you're in here!" he shouted as he entered the shipping department on that floor. "Why don't you come out and get it over with?"
He walked slowly through the open warehouse area, amidst large, unpacked children's toys which gave the large, darkened room a surreal quality. "Are you afraid to face me? You found stabbing me in the back easy enough! Do you know what I don't understand? I don't understand how she could ever have..." He tripped over a carefully-placed rope. "...fallen..."
The Man-Bat swooped down, slamming Clayface's head to the floor with his clawed feet. He followed up by bringing the dazed lunatic's head back up and then again back down, in an attempt to knock him out.
"Whew," Langstrom said, reaching into his pants' pocket for a borrowed pair of hand-cuffs. "Okay, fella... it's all over..."
Payne's eyes opened. In a split second he was up again and slammed him, almost impossibly, out of the room, into the audio-video section. Despite trying to control the path of his flight with his wings, Man-Bat slammed backwards into some glass-covered shelving, sliding down dazed and bloody.
Clayface slowly stalked towards him, resembling nothing less than Frankenstein's monster from the old Universal Studios films.
"You're right; it's all over," he said sadly. He lifted up the dazed Langstrom by the jaw with his right gloved hand. "The cheating is over! The laughing is over! Your whole worthless, marriage-wrecking life is over!!" He slammed his gloved fist down across Man-Bat's face. "It's all..."
Payne stopped as he looked up and saw his love.
"Helena? Y-you're smiling?" he said, shocked beyond belief. "Damn you, Helena... y-you're actually enjoying this, aren't you? You're enjoying the sight of two men fighting over your affections! W-well, you know what, Helena? You're not worth it. H-Helena... you were nuh-never worth it..."
Man-Bat tried his best to shake off his daze and brought his head up to see Payne weeping at the foot of a mannequin.
"A-huh... a-huhhuhhuh... Helena... oh Helena, it's all gone wrong..." he sobbed.
"Preston..." Man-Bat said gently, his hand resting on the monster's shoulder. "Let me help."
Several hours later, Commissioner Gordon watched a security camera screen at the holding facility in use while Arkham was being rebuilt.
Clayface sat in a La-Z-Boy, watching an episode of All in the Family and nursing a beer, seemingly contended. Next to him in a chair was placed the mannequin Payne called "Helena" and to whom he invested so much of his emotions.
Gordon shook his head. Somehow, Man-Bat had been able to understand the lunacy of this criminal, and knew just what would placate him. One monster could understand another monster, he supposed.
As Clayface reached for a bowl of potato chips and gazed over at his "wife", Gordon lit up his pipe and went back to Police Headquarters. One of the escapees had been recaptured. But there were still several still out there. Their work was not over.
Part 7
"You ready t'go?"
"You bet."
The second thug had been waiting for the other man for almost an hour in the Belly of the Whale, a dank, smoky two-bit bar on the waterfront, which was commonly used by petty criminals to find work. The owner and proprietor of the bar was an obese, toad-like man named Stick Chuvalo, who also sold dope on the side.
Chuvalo had rented his bar for the use of a gang of criminals from Batman's rogues gallery shortly after Ra's al Ghul broke them out of prison, and after Batman fought them to a draw, he forced Chuvalo to close down his bar for good. The costumed criminals working for Ra's al Ghul were soon captured, but the stress of that case and the ensuing Swamp Thing mess shortly afterwards had made it impossible for the Darknight Detective to make sure Chuvalo stayed closed. The business he soon found himself drawing in, though, as one of the few criminal-frequenting establishments that weren't damaged by the all-encroaching vegetation, was too much for Chuvalo to say no to. He opened up shop again, and drew more of a take as a broker than he'd ever made selling dope.
The second thug, a tall, bent-nosed and swarthy-eyed fellow wearing a classic (if a little threadbare) pin-stripe suit, looked like a criminal from out of a 1930s or '40s Warner Bros movie. He took one final drag off of his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. The first crook wasn't impressed by this show of arrogance, making him wait for a few moments.
The two men walked out of the bar and got into a car parked nearby, where a third man in the drivers' seat was waiting for them. This man was terribly obese, to the point where it took him a while just to get in and out of the car. He had a reputation as a great 'get-away' driver, though, and always seemed to find employment.
The three men rode in the car for quite a while, with hardly a word spoken between them. From the cold, humid waterfront area, along which they drove at first, they soon moved into the suburbs, avoiding the roads and streets which were still broken and being repaired from the vegetation damage. Downtown was still a mess, and they avoided that altogether. They soon drove through the suburbs and finally arrived at the most upscale part of town.
Their next stop was a graveyard, which, although it appeared to be completely abandoned, was actually holding a fair number of armed men hidden from view and watching for strangers.
The car stopped at the entrance to the graveyard. The fat driver rolled down his window and said, "Janus." At that, two masked men appeared, almost from out of nowhere, and opened the graveyard gates. They drove in and parked the car.
The three men soon entered a large, secluded family crypt, which had the name "Sionis" engraved upon it. Instead of the well of blackness one would usually see upon entering a crypt at the stroke of midnight, the three men saw a number of torches lighting it from within, and a large group of other men, wearing masks of all kinds.
No two men wore the same mask. As the pin-stripe-suited thug looked around, he saw one man in a Nixon mask, another in a Tor mask, and still another in a Mickey Mouse mask. He snickered inwardly, but his face was as cool and tough-looking as ever.
One slim man, dressed in black tights and wearing an old-style smiling players' mask, often seen in advertisements and insignias in the world of the stage, walked him and the other two to one of the walls, where a selection of masks were hung, and he gestured him to choose his mask.
The pin-striped thug looked around for a few moments, and finally picked one: a caricatured Bob Hope mask. He placed it on his face, under his wide-brimmed hat.
"The masks we choose often have a way of revealing our true natures," said the man in the smiling mask. "As the boss says, 'The mask destroys one identity while creating another. The mask recreates the wearer.'."
The man next to him, a big, dark-skinned man in an African tribal mask, said, "The boss also says, 'Know that through the sublimination of personality, inhibitions die -- and deeper drives, more primitive instincts, are brought to the surface.' "
As the pin-striped thug and the other two men joined the others, the room fell to a quiet hush as they all waited in anticipation.
Finally, the man they had all been waiting for stepped out of the darkness and onto a stone casket, addressing them all:
"Welcome, initiates, to join the swelling ranks of the faceless, and become soldiers in the army of the Black Mask. Welcome to the False Face Society of Gotham!"
The first thug, now wearing a Frankenstein mask, came up to the pin-striped thug and whispered to him, "See what I mean, O'Brian? We could make it to th' big time with dis guy."
"Please," said the pin-striped thug in the Bob Hope mask, "call me 'Th' Eel'."
Part 8
A dark-haired, lithe Sami girl walked out of the forest and into the snowy valley where this particular tribe had made camp.
A young man on a snowmobile rode up and stopped beside her, waving to her and smiling. "Hello!" he said in the Sami language.
"Hello," the girl replied in the same language.
"I am Johannes Svonni. Who are you?"
"My name is Annika Mikaelsson," she said, curtseying politely. "I have come for to see whether the tales of the man who lives comfortably in freezing weather with no furs is true or not."
Johannes studied the girl for a while, and then replied, "Aye, it's true, all right. But it's not supposed to be known to outsiders."
"I am not an outsider," Annika smiled.
"Mmm. I suppose not," said Johannes, noting her beauty. "Tell you what -- I can bring you to see him personallly, although if he doesn't want to see you, I can't do much about it." He motioned for her to sit behind him.
Annika hopped onto the snowmobile and held onto him.
"Are you married?" Johannes shouted over the din of the speedy snowmobile after a couple of minutes.
"No."
"Neither am I," he replied, and said nothing else until they reached their destination: a lonely log cabin built on a steppe.
Johannes jumped off of his snowmobile and walked up to the cabin, motioning for her to stay there. A few minutes later, he came back and called her over.
"He'll see you," he said to her, smiling.
She walked up to the cabin, and as she noticed Johannes following her there, she said, "Do... you mind if I see him for myself, alone?"
Johannes looked hurt. It was obvious to her that he was barely out of his teens. He nodded silently.
"We can talk more later," Annika said. Johannes smiled back at her and went back to his snowmobile.
Annika opened the cabin door and stepped inside. The interior somehow looked larger than she'd guessed from the outside.
There were tables full of chemical beakers, shelves filled with many books, and medical equipment lay around everywhere. There were a few electric and electronic devices she recognized, as well as a few she'd never seen before, and could only guess at their purpose. She realized that there was probably a generator somewhere behind the cabin.
The first thing she noticed was that the temperature inside the cabin was actually colder than outside. Annika kept her traditional Sami fur coat on, and walked around the spacious cabin, looking at half-finished experiments and several books opened to certain passages.
The back door opened, and Annika turned to see a somewhat-muscular man with pale, almost blue Caucasian skin, who was completely naked, except for a thin pair of shorts. He also wore dark goggles, to protect him from becoming snow-blind, and appeared to be sweating, despite the low temperature both outside and inside.
"Mr. Freeze, I presume?" Annika said in perfect American English.
The man stopped in the open doorway and sighed heavily.
Part 9
Mr. Freeze walked over to a closet and grabbed a blue cloak, putting it on.
"You've caught me at a disadvantage, miss," he said. "You appear to know my nom-de-crime, and I do not know who you really are. You're obviously not really a Sami girl, are you?"
Annika Mikaelsson removed her wig and her outer clothing, and rubbed the makeup off of her face. "I am called the Black Orchid, Mr. Freeze, and I've come here to bring you back to prison."
Mr. Freeze sighed again and sat down on a wooden chair.
"You people never stop hounding me, do you?" he said.
"That's ironic," said Black Orchid, smirking, "considering that the last two times you broke out of jail you attempted to freeze Gotham City with a giant ice-cannon and loot it in the process."
"I had my reasons at the time," he said, laughing. "I wanted to make Gotham City my personal kingdom. After all, it was while I was in Gotham City that I had the accident that changed my cellular structure, dooming me to endure the rest of my life in cold. I thought it ironic if I could make that city, the city of the Batman, into my own personal city state."
"You're completely mad."
"On the contrary," Freeze replied, pointing his finger up to make his point. "I merely had some... issues to work out. But I'm feeling much better now." He grinned wickedly.
"Why are you here?" Black Orchid asked him. "Why surround yourself with the Sami?"
"Kindred spirits, I suppose," Mr. Freeze said. "Although it's not the Sami themselves who I feel most at home with, although they are a good source of company -- a man could go mad from the loneliness otherwise -- no, it is the reindeer which is most akin to me."
Black Orchid laughed. "You're not telling me that you're an animal lover now, are you, Freeze?"
" 'Animal lover'?" he scoffed. "Far from it. As a scientist -- amateur scientist, of course -- I merely find their physiognomy fascinating. Many years ago, I believed that their ability to not only withstand extremely cold temperatures, but to thrive in them, could be the key for me to discover the secret of my own physiognomy. I dismissed that theory long ago, but they still provide a source of comfort for me. The Sami gave me one for local travel purposes; he's out back. I call him Blitzen. I'd originally planned on calling him Rudolf, but that would've been so passe, don't you think?"
"There are Reindeer in northern Canada as well, Freeze, and it would've been closer for you..."
"Yes, there are, but my grandmother on my mother's side happens to be from this part of Sweden. And Canada is too close to America and Gotham City for my purposes. Can't have ol' Bats decide to make a quick, easy trip up north on the basis of a rumor. If he was going to chase me down, I'd make it a bit harder for him."
"I think it's time to take you back to America, Freeze."
"Please don't," he replied, and actually sounded earnest in his plea.
Black Orchid studied his face skeptically.
"I have no plans to continue on in a criminal life any longer, Miss Orchid. I know that in a typical scenario, you and I are supposed to be battling each other as a super-hero and a super-villain ought to do, but must we follow that tiresome cliche? My only goal, now, is to reverse the accident that changed me into what you see before you. I merely wish to become a normal man again."
"Oh please. You were a criminal long before you became Mr. Freeze."
"True enough, I was. But can a man not see the folly of his ways, a little ways down the road? 'All men are liable to error; and most men are, in many points, by passion or interest, under temptation to it.' "
"John Locke?"
"You know your quotes," smiled Mr. Freeze. "All I ask is that I be given another chance. To start over, with a new life. All this equipment you see before you is part of that. I know I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, and if you take me away to see 'justice', it may be many years again before I'll ever be this close again."
"You've been changed back to normal before," said Orchid.
"Yes, and after that happened I abandoned my criminal career!" Freeze exclaimed.
"But you went back to crime."
"Only after my body reverted back to the way I am now. And the 'steam-bath' process won't work a second time. It would only kill me. Have you any idea how hard it is to live on the fringes of society? Unable to live a normal life? Do you really want me to remain this way?"
"This may be hard for you to believe, Freeze, but I do understand what it's like to live on the fringes of society. And... I am going to give you a second chance. Even though this is really more like a third or fourth chance."
Mr. Freeze smiled and rose from his chair. "You have my undying gratitude, Miss Orchid," he said sincerely.
"Don't con me, Freeze," said Black Orchid, pointing in his face. "I'll know when you step out of line. And you will, too, because I'll be right there."
"You have my word," he replied.
The Black Orchid turned around and walked out of the cabin through the back door, wondering how much the word of a career criminal like Mr. Freeze really meant.
She looked down sadly as she flew away in the high wind and saw Johannes Svonni grooming Blitzen, unaware that his fair Sami girl was gone forever...
Part 10
Five girls now. Five girls from the Gotham City slums had been murdered, and nobody was doing a damned thing about it.
In a city that had in recent months seen the red skies of the Crisis on Infinite Earths, the release of all of Batman's Rogues Gallery, as well as much of the criminal population, and finally the rampage of the wood elemental known as the Swamp Thing, who overran it with encroaching vegation, a few girls who were known to be prostitutes getting murdered wasn't much of a big deal.
That's how complacent this city had become, Ragman realized grimly, that they could barely send out a police car to investigate the brutal slaying of the killer's latest victim. By the time the boys in blue had finally arrived, Ragman had already talked to the somewhat spooked witnesses and left. He knew now that his prey was at hand.
Ragman leaped from one rooftop to the other. When not wearing the rags that made up his costume, he could never accomplish such a feat of athleticism. However, he found that while wearing the costume, he somehow also gained the athletic abilities of his father's three friends, who had died with him. Rory had been the only survivor of the group of five, and he took his responsibility to his community very seriously. There were bad men in the world. Bad men who preyed upon those not strong enough to fight back. It was his job to protect them. That's how simple it was to Rory Regan.
He saw these murdered girls no differently than if they had been old ladies or children. They were innocent victims, and did not deserve to be killed. Nobody deserved that. Least of all the poorest of the poor, who lived in his slum neighborhood.
On the advice of his girlfriend, newswoman Betty Berg, Rory followed one particular lead -- left by an anonymous caller -- which seemed more promising than the others.
He staked out one particular street, watching the shadows carefully, while also keeping himself out of view of the streetlights. He would need to be able to see another figure like himself -- one who could blend into the darkness -- and yet not be seen by that other figure.
It took two days and several hours (as well as several would-be muggers) before he finally saw something that perked up his attention.
It was Rebecca, the young, half-native, half-Caucasian girl, with pale white skin and dark raven hair, who lived in his neighborhood and often frequented Rags 'n' Tatters. Ragman sighed as he realized that she was forced once more to work the streets. And it was far more dangerous now than it had ever been.
The sight of Rebecca wasn't what had perked up his attention, however. It was the sight of a man, dressed completely in black, creeping through the adjacent alleyway. Rory was surprised that he had even caught a glimpse of him; he barely noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye as he was watching Rebecca. He'd turned and looked into the alleyway where he'd seen the movement, and had seen nothing. However, as he continued to peer into the utter darkness, he saw some movement again, and finally saw the figure again.
Rebecca became spooked. Whether it was the slight sound of the man in the alley, or a sixth sense, she suddenly feared for her life and began walking home very quickly.
Rory lost the sight of the man in the shadows, and he realized that he couldn't keep an eye on that alley as well as watch Rebecca. He cursed, and chose to follow the girl for her own safety, still keeping out of sight. Luckily for him, the would-be-moonlit sky was overcast with clouds, and fairly dark.
At Rebecca's apartment, Ragman watched as the girl fumbled for the keys to her ramshackle apartment. Her boyfriend was obviously not home. Her cat, Mr. Muffins, greeted her at the door by rubbing her leg.
She hurriedly picked up the cat and shut her door, bolting it immediately. A light briefly flickered on, but went off after a split-second.
Ragman heard a bone-chilling scream a few seconds later...
Part 11
It took a matter of only a few seconds for Ragman to cross the distance between his perch and the girl's apartment, but time was already critical.
Ragman burst into Rebecca's darkened apartment and tried to see as best he could. A shadow moving in the corner of his eye was a split-second's warning for him, and he dodged as a knife came down, its owner intent on killing. A sharp pain in his side told Rory that he'd been cut.
His foe had been conditioned to see in the dark, and thus had an immediate advantage over Ragman. He knew he had to tip the scales as quickly as possible, or this could very well be the end.
The rags that made up his costume had a somewhat mystical allure to them. Rory had never been able to quite figure it out, but somehow, when he wore them, his deceased father and three friends seemed to come alive in him once more. They weren't about to let Rory join them in Abraham's bosom just yet.
Ragman closed his eyes, and let himself go. And as he did, his instincts guided him in the dark. He leapt up, both hands on opposite counters, and landed a hard kick into the jaw of his enemy.
He followed up with a roundhouse kick at his opponent's hand, disarming him of the knife he carried. However, his enemy recoiled and drove himself hard into Rory's stomach, grabbing him and knocking him down.
Ragman once again let himself go, and found the strength to flip his legs up off the ground, flinging his opponent over him and into the refrigerator door.
Before his enemy could get up and turn around, Ragman had him in a choke-hold.
He flicked on the lights.
His first concern was Rebecca, and he dragged his enemy in black around the apartment, looking for her. "Where is she?" he demanded, tightening his hold.
"Toooooo laaaaaaate," the Night-Slayer croaked. "Nocturna's deeeead. I finally killed that bitch. Killed her again and again and again and again and again and again--"
Ragman choked Night-Slayer more tightly until he completely passed out. There was no time to lose.
He ran through the apartment, and finally broke open the bathroom door. The door was blocked by something heavy on the floor, and as he flicked on the light, he saw a flash of red sprayed against the wall.
"No... please, Lord, no..."
Ragman forced the door open, and knelt down beside Rebecca's body. Blood was bursting from her throat.
"No, no, no, noooo..." Rory sobbed.
Rebecca's eyes opened, and she coughed as she tried to speak. She was still alive!
"Just hold on, Rebecca, hold on," Rory said as he quickly removed his gloves and placed his fingers on the severed carotid artery in her neck, taking a second to activate a belt communicator he wore.
"Batwoman here."
"Call an ambulance!" Ragman shouted, giving her the address of Rebecca's apartment. "This girl needs a doctor fast!"
Forty-five minutes later, Rory washed the dry blood off of his hands and checked his own wound.
"I think you'll live," said the elderly Leslie Thompkins as she entered the room.
"How's Rebecca?" Rory asked her.
"It's much too early to say, but I think she's going to be all right. You gave her a chance to live."
"Thank-you, Dr. Thompkins," said Rory.
Leslie Thompkins looked at Rory and said, "I've never understood the need for you costumed types to do what it is that you do... but today, I guess, I'm glad that you were there for that young girl."
"Like you, Dr. Thompkins, I care about the people of the slums."
"Please. Call me Leslie."
"Only if you'll call me Rory."
Leslie Thompkins smiled and nodded as she began to leave the room once more to check on Rebecca's progress. She suddenly stopped and grinned as a thought came to her. "Rory, I do believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Part 12
Onyx completed three hours of meditations and opened her eyes.
She found herself still in the same place she had been in when she'd begun: on board the S.S. Nautilus, in the cabin that Captain Mark Compass had provided for her.
The middle-aged Captain Compass had been, in years past, a troubleshooter and investigator for the Penny Steamship Line, of which the S.S. Nautilus was part, and although he was now living in semi-retirement on this particular boat, he was still called upon by his former employers from time to time for his skills as a consultant on certain discretionary matters.
A knock at the door startled Onyx out of her reverie.
"Miss Onyx?"
The mysterious martial arts expert looked up as the kindly face of Svea Marie Compass looked down at her from the half-open doorway. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No, not at all," Onyx smiled.
"Mark and I would like you to join us for dinner in the Captain's Mess. Our cook made a vegetarian meal just for you."
"Thank you very much," replied the young woman. "I will be there shortly."
Later, as the group finished their dinners, several shouts could be heard, only a few moments before an explosion rocked the side of the ship!
"Blast!" shouted Captain Compass. "I was hoping we'd be prepared for something like this, but they've struck again without any warning whatsoever!"
"What is your decision, Captain?" Onyx said quickly.
Captain Mark Compass stood there and scratched his greying temples, while frowning and looking at the young woman up and down. "I don't like the idea, not one bit. But I think you may be right about it."
Onyx smiled and slipped out of the room like a ghost.
"Do you really think she'll be all right, Mark?" Svea asked her husband, holding him close as the resounding noise of cannon-fire and cries struck through the ship.
"I don't know, Svea. To look at her, you'd think she was just a girl. But Batman has assured me of her skill. I -- I just don't know. All we can do now is pray for the best."
"Avast, ye swabs!" a startling figure shouted as he swung onto the deck of the S.S. Nautilus with twenty strong men alongside him. "Ye're done fer now!"
The leader of this band of modern-day pirates was definitely dressed the part. He wore swashbuckler's shoes and garb, had a black goatee, and a black eye-patch over one eye. He was the former restauranteur and present foe of the Batman who called himself Captain Stingaree, and he was having the time of his life.
The crew of the Nautilus was quickly subdued within several minutes, and due to the quick actions of Captain Compass, none had died, and few sustained any serious injuries.
"Ye be a smart one, Compass!" laughed Stingaree as he leaped off the now-useless husk of the Nautilus back onto his own corsair. His men had looted the boat of all its precious cargo, and had destroyed the engine entirely. Captain Stingaree wasn't afraid of killing his foes if necessary, but he was as good as his word when he told them that nobody need die if they did not resist.
With a final laugh at the smoking ruin of a ship, which could now only float, Captain Stingaree sped his corsair at an impossible speed away, before seeming to disappear entirely in the dim twilight.
"How did he do it?" Compass muttered to himself as he watched the boat disappear from view, and silently said a prayer for his young friend.
A few hours later in the darkened cabin of Stingaree's ship, Karl Courtney paced the floor several times before making his decision. He'd his men search the ship three times now, and they had found nothing. Yet his "pirate sense" told him that something was wrong. This last job had just been too easy somehow. So much for getting away from the problems of Gotham for awhile, he thought grimly. He'd heard of his fellow escapees being tracked down one by one back home, and was feeling edgy.
Stingaree stopped pacing and walked over to an antique cabinet. Opening it, he pulled out the microphone for the two-way radio inside, and turned it to a specific frequency.
"Troy Tempest to Chilly Willy. Over... Troy Tempest to Chilly Willy. Over."
After several moments, a voice answered over the crackling radio: "Chilly Willy here."
"I'm calling your debt, Chilly Willy. Over."
"I didn't get that, Troy Tempest. Please repeat."
"I need your help, you old bozo! Over."
"Look, this really isn't the best time... I'm very busy with my work! Over."
"Listen, you owe me, you old bloodsucker! You know where to find me. Troy Tempest out!"
Captain Stingaree flipped the radio switch to the "off" position and slammed the microphone down.
Many, many miles away on land, an enraged figure began smashing everything in sight: Test tubes, beakers, computer equipment, books, and all.
"Dammit!" screamed Mr. Freeze in an uncharacteristic display of fiery anger. "I was so close! So... close..."
The pale skinned figure fell down on his knees, finally, amidst the shattered glass and smoking ruins of his equipment, and began to weep. But as he put his hands to his face, he knew that he would never shed a tear ever again, and stood back up again, grim and resolute as ever.
Mr. Freeze calmly walked towards his doorway and opened it up, casually picking up a box of matches from the shelf. Lighting it, he threw it inside the log cabin and watched as the flammable chemicals spilled all over the carpeted floor ignited the entire cabin. He watched impassionately as his every dream went up in flames. All because he had made a pact he could not break.
The villain walked away from the burning cabin and down the mountain, never once looking back...
Interlude 1
Batwoman looked over the notes she had made from her teammates individual cases over a cup of mocha: It was a poor track record at best.
She had unwittingly let Signalman escape after she had tracked him down, and in the process scared him and his accomplice Crazy Quilt away from any chance of easily finding them again. They'd been spooked.
Man-Bat had tracked Kiteman down as well, but had abandoned his pursuit in search of a far more dangerous foe: Clayface. The third man to bear this name was by far the most dangerous, and luckily for Gotham City, Man-Bat had managed to put him safely back into custody once more. She was thankful for that much.
Little else had gone right, however. True, Ragman had been successful in capturing the Night-Slayer, but not until after he had killed several women in an insane search for Nocturna, who he had vowed to slay. This was, at best, a bittersweet victory.
The Black Orchid had never reported back after going in pursuit of Mr. Freeze. This was her way, though, so Barbara was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Onyx was still on her mission tracking down Captain Stingaree, and she worried for her safety. She'd heard nothing from her for several days now. And the Secret Six's mole was currently in place, exactly where he should have been.
Still, only two out of the eighteen dangerous "super-criminals" who remained free since Ra's al Ghul blew up the walls of Arkham Asylum and the State Penitentiary and released the majority of the criminal population of Gotham City had been recaptured. The rest were still out there.
And now this: A phone call from her father had informed her that the most dangerous of them all had escaped custody once again, despite being captured by the Batman and his allies along with the others who had chosen to work with Ra's al Ghul.
The Batman had been scarcely seen in Gotham City for a few weeks now, and had only been spotted while working (albeit infrequently) either with the Outsiders or the Justice League of America. For some strange reason, it seemed that he had left the fate of Gotham City up to the Secret Six alone. She hoped that she would not have to send her team up against this latest escapee, however. Although she'd faced him before, she feared what he was capable of. He was unpredictable, according to his name, and human life seemed to matter nothing to him next to a well-crafted joke.
Batwoman finished her mocha and crossed her fingers. Kara, if only you were here to help me now...
Interlude 2
The ringing of the telephone startled Barbara Gordon out of her reverie. She answered it cautiously.
"Hello? Oh, hello, Daddy! What? No... really? That's too funny. Thanks for letting me know. 'Bye."
Barbara hung up the phone and chuckled. Her father, Commissioner James W. Gordon, had called her just now to tell her that the Signalman had been recaptured. Apparently, he had been caught by an off-duty police officer who recognized him as he sat eating a Whopper at a local Burger King. No sign of his partner Crazy Quilt could be found, however. Word was he was being immediately shipped off to Belle Reve this time. She hoped that she wouldn't have to deal with the little stinker ever again...
To Be Continued in The Secret Six: Book Two