DC: Courting Vipers ch 1

Chapter 1: Talk To Me, Boy

There was a line someone once said about the best-laid plans of something-or-other.  What exactly the point of the saying was, he didn't really know.  But trying to remember it gave him a boost of confidence.  After all, most supervillains only ever thought big.  Big plans, big crime, it was all supposed to mean a big pay-off.  But the thing was that those plans were usually foiled by the Justice League right away.  After all, if you were going to attack city hall or something with a couple of giant robots and a mega-laser or whatever, the annoying band of tights-wearing jerkwads were going to know and get there right away.  And they were considerably more annoying to deal with than cops.

More supervillains needed to start investing in smaller plans too.  They could work out in the end, provided you were smart about what you were doing.  That was why, when a few of the others he normally ran with announced they were going to pull a heist, he declined their offer to come along and set off on his own.  If Cheetah, The Shade, and the others were going to steal something valuable and well-guarded, that meant the Justice-junkies and most of the cops were going to be busy stopping them...leaving him free to wreak a little havoc wherever he wanted.

"And when I ace this thing," Copperhead said in a low voice to himself, hiding behind a circular pillar in the Gotham City Mall, a wide grin spreading over his face, "They're not gonna be calling me a stupid klutz anymore."  Oh, he could just see the expressions on their faces already!  His tail gave a rapid thrash of delight as he scanned the stores present, preparing to pick his target.  His gaze fell upon a nearby jewelry vendor, and he grinned, baring his fangs as he slowly began to slip away from the pillar, unseen.

Or...so he thought.

A high-pitched squeal from behind him nearly shattered his eardrums, his back immediately going rigid as something yanked sharply on his tail.  Even through the prehensile suit, that hurt!  He spun around, shocked to see a young woman pulling on the very end of his tail, holding it close to her face for inspection, her blue eyes huge.

"Oh.  My.  God!  Is this real snakeskin?" She gasped, looking him in the eyes.  He could only blink, stunned, and she leaned in close to his tail again, eyes going wider.  A sharp prickle of annoyance shot through Copperhead as he attempted to yank his tail back.

"Let go," He grumbled, "That's gotta be sexual harassment in some country—"

She let out another gasp as his tail slid from her grip, practically beaming.

"It is real, isn't it?" Her voice had nearly reached a shrieking pitch as she leaned in closer to him, a greedy glint in those blue eyes.  "Either that, or it's one really expensive, convincing faux-substitute."

He frowned at her, finally taking in more of her appearance.  Her hair was platinum blonde with multiple clashing streaks of color running through it, and her make-up looked like it had been applied by somebody who worked for actors on movie sets.  Her clothes and accessories though, despite being one of the most bizarre assortments of random laundry wars, had an incredibly pricey look to them.  Certainly those boots were customs, and her jewelry...it hardly looked fake.

"I am not sure why that matters...?" He said slowly, voice dripping with mildly disturbed apprehension.  "Look, missy, if you know what's good for you, you'll leave me—"

"Oh!" She exclaimed suddenly, blinking in surprise, as though she were finally seeing him and not his snake suit.  "OH!  I'm terribly sorry, sir!  Where are my manners?"

And without so much as a second thought, she seized his right hand and pumped his arm vigorously in a firm business handshake that didn't suit her tiny form at all.

"I'm Leslie!" She said brightly.  "Leslie Colleen Smith!  But you can call me Les."

"L-listen, Miss Smith!" He snapped, pulling his hand free, "I'm gonna give you one chance to back off, now, or else."

"Or else what?" She asked innocently, not budging like he'd hoped.  He paused, more than a little bewildered and annoyed.  Was this chick for real?  He worked his jaw a moment, frowning, then leaned closer to her and let out a low hiss, exposing his forked tongue.

"I don't know, chica...how about you use your imagination?" He replied.

Leslie Smith raised her eyebrows sharply—Copperhead had a pretty solid guess she'd never been threatened before—but a second later her face fell and her lower lip stuck out in a sulky sort of way.

"Oh, I see," she muttered, "You don't want to get the chance to help me out?"

"What?" He said, getting more irritated by the second.  Who did this woman think she was, anyway?  Did she have absolutely no idea she was talking to one of the most dangerous supervillains in the world?  What the heck made her think he would want to help her?

"It's just—you see..." she began as she lowered her head and chewed at her lower lip, clasping her hands before her, "I could really use some help from such a big, strong guy like you.  After all, I'm here all by myself..."

He hesitated just a second too long, and she looked up at him from under her lashes, batting her eyes slowly.

"You wouldn't mind helping poor little ol' Les, wouldja doll-face?" She crooned.  "Just for a little, teeny tiny short lil' shopping trip?  Surely that's not too much for such a tall, handsome, strapping guy like you?"

He blinked and shook his head, trying to recall for a second what his name was.  Apparently she took the motion as consent, for she seized his arm and started to drag him along, looking decidedly more cheerful.

"AWESOME!  You're fantastic, honey!"  She trilled, tossing him a positively wicked smile.  "How much weight can that tail of yours support, hmm?"

"Wait, what?!"



He never thought being dragged from store to store in a mall by a woman would be quite so horrid.  It was the most bizarre whirlwind of activity; she would move at breakneck speed between stores, as though worried her next destination would vanish if she didn't plow through people to get there first, but once in a store, Leslie Smith certainly seemed to take her time with things.  And worse still, she wouldn't give him a second to rest.

"What do you think, the beige or the gray?" She asked, hefting two hangers bearing the same shirt in different colors, giving them a little rattling shake.  He swallowed his desire to scream and counted to ten in his head, trying to focus on breathing in and out.

"Haven't you bought enough shirts already?" He responded, flexing his arm that was already laden with three other heavy shopping bags for emphasis.  He had already tried for the past hour to talk her out of the idea in any way he could.  Threats, bribes, threatening bribes, pointless "blackmail," anything.  And she refused to acknowledge that he was attempting to do so.  She just smiled each time and laughed, shaking her head and insisting he wouldn't do that.  He had tried a last-ditch effort to scare her, telling her he had once almost killed Batman...which she turned around and used to add to her insistence that made him all the more suitable to spending the day helping her out.  Finally, he gave in, feeling rather defeated and too weary to try to get out of it.

Still, her little shopping spree was getting absolutely ridiculous.  Why in the world did she need to spend so much money on clothes?  Where was she even getting all that money from, anyway?  And why didn't she have a boyfriend or someone helping her out?

"Please, doll-face." She said, rolling her eyes.  "A girl should never have to limit her options for outfit combinations if she's going to dress to impress."

He cast a look at the bags weighing on his arm and made a noise somewhere between a sigh, a groan, and a high-pitched, dog-like whine.

"But you've only picked out tops so far!"

She blinked, surprised, and suddenly grinned at him.

"You're right, doll-face!" She exclaimed.  "I need to head to a few more stores and pick out some cute skirts and pants!  Oooh, and some shorts too, but nothing with satin, remember that.  NO satin."

Copperhead slapped a hand to his face, cursing himself inwardly for even giving her the idea.  He inhaled deeply, counted to ten in his head again, and massaged his temple, taking care to angle his hand so he avoided the poisoned fangs of his headpiece.  Of course, Leslie seemed oblivious as she kept looking between the gray and beige shirts.

"Don't you, I don't know, have a boyfriend or something that can help you with this?" He demanded, gritting his teeth.  "What are you even paying with for all of this crap?"

"One, no I don't.  I'm really picky about guys, so trying to get anywhere close to my criteria for my type of guy is an impressive accomplishment." Leslie chirped, an easy smile on her face as she placed the beige shirt back on the clothing rack.  She remained quiet for a long time, and it needled at him, until he couldn't stand her silence any more and had to speak up.

"And?  What's two?"

At that, she giggled and tossed him a mischievous sneer.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"If you were trying to be cute or flirty or whatever just now, you failed." He snorted.  "Come on, just answer the question."

"I'm always cute, honey." She said, smiling in a sweet yet self-assured manner.  "I don't know about that flirting bit, but if flattering yourself helps you sleep at night..."

"FLA­—!  Oh, you little..."

She barely noticed the unfinished threat as her eyes locked on something beyond him, going wider and wider, and her expression turned almost predatory.  She seized the front of his snake suit, and exhaled a sentence in a snarling breath.

"DITKO'S VINTAGE CLOTHING IS HAVING A BLOW-OUT SALE ON SHOES."

A chill ran down his spine and in that second, Copperhead had the dread feeling he knew exactly what was about to happen.  Without warning Leslie seized the unpurchased garments and flung them at an attendant, who had the misfortune of passing by at that moment and catching them with his face.

"PUT THOSE IN LAYAWAY!" She roared.  "I'LL BE BACK!"

Copperhead barely had time to turn himself around before she took off like a rocket, charging from the store at top speed, still hauling him by the fistful of his suit.  He stumbled quite a bit and had to trot to keep up, his tail smacking into several unseen objects as he passed them by, and he let out a small yelp as she dragged him through the crowd and  toward Ditko's.

"Ay!  Chica, tu es loco!  Slow down!!" He shrieked, trying to pry her hands off.

"What, are you kidding me?!" She shrieked right back at him, spinning around to look him in the face, standing on the soles of her feet as she nearly shoved her nose against his.  Heat flooded his face and his back went rigid as he blinked, leaning back.  "When there are dozens of lonely pairs of shoes just waiting to be adopted and taken to their new home?"

"They're just shoes!" He protested, trying again to tug her hand off him.  "They're not puppies!  Let go of me!"

Her expression grew chilly, her left eye began to twitch, and without another word, she renewed her grip on his suit and continued to drag him to the store.  He silently prayed he wouldn't wind up dead for the remark about the shoes.

But time passed rather quickly in the store, and before long, he found himself sitting in a chair at a table in the food court.  He was still rather laden with shopping bags, but as he was unsure what else he could do, he waited for Leslie to trot back over with the food she had been getting, as she had promised him a snack for his help.  He tried to take the opportunity to think up a way for revenge, to finally scare her off and get around to plundering the place like he'd wanted.  He was starting to wonder if there were any possible locations out of sight of security cameras where he could threaten her, when something was slammed down on the table in front of his face.

"What the—"

"Frappuccino, doll-face." Leslie said with a brilliant smile as she fell into the chair across from him.  "For all your help today."

He stared at the tall drink for a moment, scowling slightly, before tentatively taking a sip.  Caramel macchiato with a hint of mocha.  Okay, so she was absolutely exasperating, but she at least could order a pretty good frapp.

"Yeah, whatever." He muttered, drumming his fingers on the table.

"You're welcome!" She said brightly, stirring her own frappuccino with her straw.  "Say, tall, orange and handsome...you never told me your name."

He glared at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Oh I already know what you're called," she went on, waving a hand dismissively, and he straightened a little with pride when she added, "You're Copperhead."

"So you do know I'm dangerous."  He said in a light tone, leaning forward.  She merely shrugged, rolling her shoulders and taking a sip of her coffee.

"Is that what you call it?" She said sweetly.  "Eh. I've seen you on several news reports covering things the Justice League does.  You kind of get your butt handed to you a lot, don'tcha doll-face?"

The muscle in his jaw started twitching faster as he worked to contain his anger.

"Yeah?" He snarled, slamming his hands down on the table and rising sharply out of his seat.  He had the feeling if people weren't staring enough already, they definitely were now, and for a moment, he didn't care if it led to a pair of handcuffs getting slapped on him and being dragged out to a police van.  He wanted this dumb blonde to get a handle on just who she was dealing with.  "Do you know what I could do to you?  Snakes constrict their prey, sweetie.  And I've got a lot of tail to work with here."

She blinked those wide, innocent blue eyes at him again and he lost some bluster.

"Stop that." He snapped.

"But doll-face, if you want to kill me, couldn't you have done it several times by now?"  She asked, innocent and confused.  He paused, thrown for a loop.

"Well...I don't really want to kill you—"

"But aren't you also an assassin?"

"That's different!  Contractual killing isn't the same thing, and it's not like I get too many jobs like—AGH!  Stop it!" He groaned, pulling off his headpiece and throwing it to the floor to massage his temples.  "You're giving me headaches with this!"

"What's with the Dracula haircut?" She asked immediately, "No offense, hon, but it does make you look kind of...well, old."

His head snapped up and he gave her a skeptical look.  "How old do you think I am?"

"Well, I was going to guess you're in your twenties, few years older than me, but that awful hairstyle makes you look like you're in your forties."

"Really?  It makes me look that old?"  He shook his head a second later, then gave her another skeptical look.  "Wait a minute...how old are you?"

She beamed, her face lighting up.  "I'll be eighteen in two weeks!  This shopping trip is my birthday present to me."

"Oh.  AH!  You're not even legal."  He groaned, smacking his head against the table.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing.  Just you know...I can't really ask you," he said, glancing up and giving the pink streak in her platinum blonde hair a pointed look, "If the carpet matches the drapes or anything, not without getting my backside thrown in the pen again."

"Carpet?  Drapes?" She echoed, blinking.  "No, not really.  See, Mom had to pick out EVERY set of curtains and stuff for the manor when we first moved in, but the carpet's all over the place, thanks to Daddy's contractors not doing their job right.  They lost out on a seriously nice paycheck for that, but Daddy made up for it when he bought a TON of really nice Persian rugs for the better rooms, you know?"

He groaned and smacked his head against the table again.  Sweet mother of baby Jesus, this girl was dense!  Not just dense, but naïve.  Not to mention, jailbait until further notice.  Then, a second later, something in what she'd said clicked in his head finally and he shot up from the table again, eyes going wide.

"Wait a minute!  Did you say 'manor?'" He demanded.  She nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow at him as though he had taken a long time to catch on.  "You're rich?"

"I'm not rich," she answered immediately, "Just my family.  Grandpa Elario started his own business when he was young and still living in Florence.  Italian wines and all that.  He married my grandmother because of some legal something-or-other or whatever, and she came from old money already.  And then when Daddy grew up and inherited from them, they coaxed him into marrying Mom, and she's from newer money."

"Th-that's not the point!  You're rich!"

"So?" She shot back.  "You still haven't told me your name."

"And with any luck, you won't have to hear that, Miss Smith." A new voice interjected as a powerful hand came down on Copperhead's shoulder and gripped it hard enough it might break.  He froze, swallowing over a knot in his throat, and slowly looked about to find an all-too familiar face looking at him.   Superman gave him a flat stare, and he attempted a weak chuckle in response.

"H-hey there, big guy.  D-didn't think Gotham City was your scene..."

"It isn't." Superman answered.  "You're lucky I got here before Batman responded to Miss Smith's call."

His eyes went huge and he looked back at Leslie, who was now sipping her frappuccino innocently while inspecting her polished nails.

"Miss Smith's call?" He echoed.

"Yes," Superman confirmed, "Though I do wonder how you knew Lois Lane would be able to get ahold of me, let alone how you got ahold of Lois in the first place, young lady."

She whipped a cell phone out of her shorts pocket, waving it for them to see.

"I just four-one-oned for the Daily Planet and asked for Lois.  Duh."

Copperhead's jaw dropped, and he stammered wordlessly.

"And you're telling me you managed to keep him—" Superman gave his shoulder a rough, unceremonious shake, "—preoccupied and out of trouble this whole time while you waited for someone to respond to your call?"

"Just lucky, I guess." Leslie said sweetly, and perhaps a little too innocently.

"You sold me out to Superman!" Copperhead finally found his voice, stunned and steadily getting angry.  "You, you, you...you!! AGH!"

She spread her hands, pulling a face.  "What was I supposed to do, just let you trash the place?  This is the mall, doll-face.  The point of coming here is to shop.  At the very least, I knew I could try to get you to carry my bags around and stay out of trouble."

"While your actions were brave and commendable," Superman piped up, sounding disapproving, "You probably should have called the police to begin with."

"Didn't think they'd be able to handle a supervillain as well as you," Leslie muttered, ducking her head and flushing pink, finally sounding utterly sincere, "Especially not him.  He could have killed any of them.  I've um...I've watched a lot of news coverage, actually."

Copperhead itched to make strangling gestures at her.  Now she was paying him an indirect compliment, after constantly insulting him and screwing with him this whole time?

"I hate you." He growled, glaring at her as Superman gave him an insistent tug that he knew better than to resist.  She simply offered him an awkward smile.

"Sorry." She said with a shrug.

"Come on, Copperhead." Superman said firmly, spinning him about by the shoulder and forcing him to walk away.

"Aww, be gentle with him, Supes!" Leslie called after him.  "After all, he kept out of trouble and helped me with my shopping!"

"And I'd sooner shoot myself than go through this again." Copperhead muttered.

"Now don't say that," Superman responded, the smirk all-too evident in his voice, "You might give off the impression you didn't like spending the day at a mall with a cute girl."

"That girl," he exhaled sharply, "Is not cute.  She's an evil mastermind.  And if I ever see her again, it'll be too soon."