Floyd Lawton had heard men scream before. It was a sound that rarely bothered him, and one he often relished. This time, however, it was different. Deadshot pressed himself flat to the wall and moved quietly. Slowly. No sense hurrying towards trouble.

“Lawton-” something whispered in his ear.

“Quiet. Probably going to need you in a minute, but no sense showing the card before we have to,” Deadshot said. The voice fell silent. So too did the screams. Deadshot tensed.

Laughter. Loud. Manic. Like that of a lunatic child.

“Unconscious? Already? That’s not according to the script, Snart!”

Deadshot swung around the corner, arms extended. Behind his mask, his eyes narrowed. “Kadabra,” he said, flatly, to the thin man standing over the limp form of Captain Cold.

Dressed in a suit with tails, with a black vest and black gloves, the man known as Abra-Kadabra looked up, eyes widening. “Lawton? How did you-” Deadshot opened fire before he could finish his sentence. Kadabra flew backwards, a crackling field springing to life in front of him, absorbing the bullets as they impacted.

“Lawton! Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“Wouldn’t know, don’t have any,” Deadshot said, still shooting. Kadabra laughed.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re not going to get the chance to make any either.” He gestured sharply and the floor beneath Deadshot’s feet heaved, sending him sprawling. The tiles and the pipe work beneath twisted and coiled into a vaguely humanoid shape. Kadabra giggled as a fist made of copper pipes thudded down onto the spot where Deadshot had been only seconds before.

Lawton scrambled to his feet, firing at the creature. “What are you doing here, Kadabra?” he said, trying to buy time. “Who are you working for?”

“Working for? Working for? What a ridiculous suggestion, Lawton. I’m not working for anyone,” Kadabra said. He sat on the stairs, one foot on Cold’s chest. “I’m just here to pay back old debts. Why are you here?”

“Professional reasons,” Deadshot grunted, leaping out of the way as another blow caved in a wall.

“He came to kill me!” General Immortus shrieked, standing at the top of the stairs, waving his sword cane, still wet with Mirror-Master’s blood. “Kill him Kadabra! Kill them both!”

Kadabra laughed. “You heard the man, Lawton. And you know me, I can’t resist playing to the crowd!” He stood and threw out his hands. Crackling streams of energy surged from his palms, straight towards Deadshot!

Issue # 20

'COLD SERVICE' (Young As You Feel, Pt. 4)

Outside Immortus’ Monaco estate, super-villains brawled in the streets. The authorities had thrown up a cordon around the area, but Monaco had little in the way of metahuman response available. No native heroes of note, no international heroes who could be reached quickly.

A screaming boomerang cut through the air, splitting a wall of water in two. The water reformed, a woman’s face bleeding out of it, her expression one of wicked glee. “Is that it? Is that all you got, little man?” New Wave said, sweeping towards Captain Boomerang.

“Shite. Shiteshitshite,” Boomerang replied, scrambling over the hood of a car as tendrils of water looped towards him. “Somebody give me a hand here!”

“We’re busy, Digger!” Heatwave snarled, sweeping his gun back and forth, putting a wall of flame between himself and the Duke of Oil.

“Not burning so well now, am I?” the Duke crowed, his glistening steel flesh piercing the flames as he lunged for the Rogue. Stripped of flesh and clothing, the Duke still wore his ten gallon hat, but only just. “Got nothing left to burn thanks ta you, ya brand-happy lunatic!”

Shakedown and Heatstroke played tag with the Weather Wizard not far away. The Rogue was holding his own, but only just. The Masters of Disaster had been a team from the get-go, but the Rogues could-without Cold’s influence-be described as only loosely comprehending the concept of cooperation.

Still, among the Rogues, Mardon was perhaps the most powerful. And he was used to fighting a man who moved at the speed of light, which the Masters were anything but. “Are you really that eager for lightning to strike twice, kid?” he said, brandishing his wand at Heatstroke. Wordlessly, she dove at him, arrowing upwards like a minnow. Lightning crackled around her and she fluttered backwards. Mardon allowed himself a small congratulatory smile, but it was erased a moment later as Shakedown’s vibrational frequencies struck him like a series of sledgehammers.

He crashed to the street, dazed. Water curled around him, and only a spray of fire rescued him from an imminent drowning. “On your feet!” Heatwave barked. The Duke rose up behind the white-suited Rogue, fists raised. Before he could bring them down however, an electrically charged boomerang caught him in the back, sending him jerking and writhing to the ground.

Captain Boomerang helped Weather Wizard to his feet and the three Rogues stood back to back. “Must have gone wrong in there,” Harkness grunted. “Only reason we ain’t clobbered these idiots yet.”

“When does it ever go right?” Heatwave said. “Fall back. Get to Cold and the others, go from there-”

The explosion caught them all by surprise. The street heaved and the roof of Immortus’ home crumbled inward. All seven villains were caught flat-footed and could only stare in shock at the lightshow that followed. Colors usually invisible to the human eye slammed against each other in the sky over Monaco, crashing together in a silent, riotous cacophony.

Deadshot appeared in the street, dragging the inert body of Cold. The Rogues made to move towards him, but the Masters interposed themselves. Deadshot dropped Cold and collapsed on the sidewalk, pulling off his mask and lighting a cigarette.

“Fight’s over. We got worse problems than each other, kids,” he said.

Abra-Kadabra had been born in the 64th Century. Even then, he had stood out. A showman in a world where fiction and reality were intertwined to such a degree as to become inseparable. Magic and science were one in the same to Kadabra, and he could take apart one with the other as easily as a child might take apart a toy car.

Thus, when Amazo’s form expanded to take the brunt of the blast meant for Cold, Kadabra had been surprised, but not frightened. The android had been hiding in microspace, thanks to his duplication of the Atom’s abilities. Unlike others of his ilk, Kadabra was not terribly frightened of the machine-to him, it was, while awe-inspiring in the same that ancient engines were to modern technocrats, still a relatively simple device.

Granted, he had never been on the receiving end of Amazo’s power duplication abilities before. When his own extranormal energies were reflected back at him, Kadabra reacted with momentary panic. Thus, the explosion.

Now, he and Amazo dueled in the air above Monaco, trading spells. “I may have to re-think my position on this century’s technology,” he said. Amazo didn’t reply. His eyes glowed red and twin beams of pure heat lanced forward.

Kadabra gestured, gritting his teeth. “Then, maybe not. How many different abilities do you possess, I wonder? Batman’s deductive reasoning in there anywhere?”

Amazo hurtled forward, slamming fists into Kadabra’s TK shield. His limbs elongated, fingers twisting to hurl spells from multiple directions. Kadabra grunted as one got through, scoring a red line across his arm.

“Obviously. By my century, you’re obsolete, you know. They use your kind to work in the imaginarium mines,” he said. Green fists battered at him at super-speed. Kadabra reeled, falling back, tumbling through the air. Amazo closed in, reaching for his prey.

Kadabra’s eyes flashed. Amazo halted, shuddering. “Obsolete. I go an Amazo for X-HanuKwanz-Mas when I was three. It had all the powers of the Justice League during their Detroit tenure. Horrible thing. Insisted on calling me ‘esse’. Very annoying. Needless to say-” He gestured. “I took it apart as soon as my parents had their backs turned.”

Amazo shuddered again, then gave a horrendous squawk as its skin split and it flew apart at the joints. The pieces hung suspended, before disassembling even further. Kadabra rubbed his chin. “You can only adapt what you see. While my abilities are quite a bit more than they appear. Obsolete, again.”

The red lights in Amazo’s eyes flickered and died. Kadabra smiled. “Still, no reason I can’t put you to use the same way I did my old toy. As I recall, I repaired him and set him against the neighbor children. How I hated them.”

Amazo’s eyes blinked back to life as Kadabra gestured. “Cold always reminded me of the biggest bully out of the bunch. Always barking orders and saying you can do this and that but not that one.” Kadabra’s eyes flared. “I hate him. I hate him, but not enough to bother killing him myself. You do it. I have other business.” Kadabra spread his arms as Amazo was reconstituted, his face looking eerily similar to Kadabra’s own. “Bring down the house, my dear Alakamazo!”

General Immortus clawed at the light as his fortress burned around him. Beneath him, Mirror Master groaned. Immortus ignored him and heaved a chunk of roof away, his withered limbs moving with amazing strength.

It came with a price, of course. It always did. He could feel the years piling up, the hoarded reserves of vitality fading. His heart clenched, spasming in pain. Immortus sank to his knees.

“So close. So close.”

“But no cigar, eh?”

Immortus looked up. Kadabra sat on a piece of the ruined step above him. He waved his hand and the Purple Ray that the Rogues had stolen floated towards him. “You want this, I assume?”

“K-Kadabra,” Immortus said. “Give it to me!”

“Why? It’s not like you know how to use it, you primeval fool.” Kadabra leaned over, smirking. “In my time, you’re a footnote. Does that make you angry?”

Immortus lunged for the Purple Ray. Kadabra gestured and coiling bands of hard light surrounded the General, holding him in place. “Magic and science, my friend, are so close as to be indistinguishable. Especially a toy like this. It’s basically hardcore antiseptic spray. It won’t do what you want it to do.”

“It will, if I can study it-” Immortus hissed through gritted teeth. “I can alter it. Improve it. Our deal-”

“Is null. Never trust a magician, Immortus. You should know that from experience.” Kadabra looked at the Purple Ray. “Still, I might play with this afterward. See if it can open up new vistas of entertainment.”

“A-always were s-short-sighted,” Mirror Master said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. His midsection was stained red beneath his arm. Kadabra glanced at him.

“Oh. Hello. You’re the second one aren’t you? McCulloch?”

“You know who I am, Kadabra,” Mirror Master said. “Why are you doing this? Pretending to be that kid-Trickster, why-”

“Why have I done anything? Entertainment, McCulloch. I’m bored with being a Rogue. I want to be something else. So, two birds with one stone, as it were. I visibly sever my ties with your organization, and make a statement as to my new proclivities,” Kadabra said, running his fingers through his pointy goatee. “Granted, this is a bit melodramatic and overly complex, but then, what good show isn’t?”

“You-” Mirror Master began. Kadabra wriggled his fingers and McCulloch flopped backwards, unconscious.

“Ha! Yes. Me.” He looked at Immortus. “I want to be famous, you know. But I’ll need capital. You have a lot of money I hear. Give it to me and I’ll let you live another few centuries.”

Outside.

Alakamazo crashed to the ground and giggled. Deadshot pulled his mask back on and looked at the others. “See? What’d I tell you?”

“If you knew he’d bleedin’ take that toy apart, then why’d you send it after him?” Captain Boomerang said. Deadshot shrugged.

“Wasn’t my idea. But I know what Kadabra can do. If we all hit it-”

“It’ll c-copy our p-powers,” Shakedown said.

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s reached its limit. The thing can only copy so many abilities,” Deadshot said. He hesitated. “Or so I was told.”

“Great,” Weather Wizard said, helping Captain Cold to his feet. “Perfect. Where’s Mirror Master. I want out of here.”

“Dead. Maybe,” Cold said harshly. “Just like us if we don’t take that thing out.”

Alakamazo started forward slowly. His face had become narrow, foxy, with satanic brows and a pointed curl of a goatee. Green energy bled off of him in waves. He laughed again. His arms split, cracking open to reveal the techno-organic musculature beneath. Weapons never before seen on earth sprang to life, rising from within. More arms, these composed of green energy stretched forward, clutching lasso and wand and mirror-pistol.

“Alakazam,” he said. “Alakazam.”

“I hate magic,” New Wave said, surging forward like a human riptide. Water swept over Alakamazo, knocking him from his feet. Heatstroke followed her leader, causing the water around Amazo to boil, as Shakedown buffeted him with miniature sea-quakes.

The android struggled against the blows. All of his weapons fired simultaneously, blowing New Wave’s liquid form apart. The lasso snapped out, snagging Heatstroke’s leg. A razor-rang severed the rope as the Rogues moved to join the fray. Cold and Deadshot circled the android, their weapons firing.

The Duke of Oil crashed into Alakamazo, encircling the android with his extending limbs. Alakamazo shook him off with a shrug of his shoulders, shattering the other android’s limbs. The Duke crashed backwards, cursing as his systems initiated self-repairs.

Alakamazo spun, green hands springing out and grabbing for Shakedown. He yelped and fell back, trying to protect himself. Lightning hammered down, turning the street to slag. Sparkling fire swept upwards, driving both Weather Wizard and Heatstroke back. The machine’s eyes blazed as Kryptonian heat-vision burnt through cars and walls, tracking the running form of Heatwave. A new face formed out of the back of Alakamazo’s skull, and a stream of gibberish syllables dripped from its lips. The air congealed and humanoid shapes lunged for Cold and Deadshot.

“What the hell-” Deadshot said as something he could only barely see knocked him from his feet. Cold avoided a blow, grimacing in pain as he did so.

“Air elementals. That’s what Kadabra calls them, at least. They don’t last long.”

“Long enough,” Deadshot said, jumping aside as a breezy blow took out a lamppost. “We need to end this. Now.”

“I’m open to ideas, Lawton.”

“Shut down switch.” Deadshot tapped the side of his head. “Installed for just this sort of occasion. Problem is, I can’t get to it.”

“Thought you could make any shot,” Cold said.

“I can. But the target has to be there. And has to not be able to knock my bullet outta the air.”

Cold frowned. “Easy enough.” He looked up and gestured to Weather Wizard, and shouted, “Tarpit!” Weather Wizard gave a bark of laughter and swooped towards Heatstroke.

“Bossman has an idea, red. You feel like playing nice?”

“Gets this over with, I’m in it to win it.” Heatstroke avoided a stream of arrows that erupted from Alakamazo’s flesh. “What do we do?”

“Hit the street. Slag it, bind him in place. I’ll fry his circuits with a concentrated bolt.”

“That’ll stop him?”

“For about a minute. Give the brainiacs enough time to do their thing.” Weather Wizard spun his wand.

Heatstroke dive-bombed the street, flames spitting from her fingers to cover the street. Heatwave, crouching behind the tangled wreck of a car saw what she was up to and looked up. Weather Wizard gestured.

“Ha,” Heatwave said. He nudged Boomerang, who was crouched nearby. “Got any of those thermal ‘rangs?”

“One or two, why?” Boomerang said, looking over the improvised barricade. “Oh. Tarpit.”

“Tarpit,” Heatwave said. He rose to his feet, his heatgun firing. Boomerang followed suit, slinging two of the remaining few boomerangs off of his bandolier.

Along with Heatstroke’s burst, the further explosions turned the street into a gooey mess as the intense heat broke down the molecular bonds. Alakamazo looked down, perplexed as it sank up to its shins in the tar and slag. Weather Wizard aimed a concentrated burst of lightning at the side of the machine’s skull. The EMP caused the android to stiffen abruptly. Its eyes blazed and dimmed as its system automatically rebooted.

Cold reacted swiftly, despite the pain of his wounds. He fired his gun, creating a thin, hard tunnel of ice directly to a part of the android’s head, simultaneously marking the path and freezing Alakamazo’s head in place. Deadshot flicked the control mechanism of his gauntlets over one, setting it to fire explosive rounds. Then, as Cold stepped aside, he fired down the gullet of the ice tube.

Alakamazo’s head exploded, the round penetrating its hardened skull-case and frying all of its synaptic functions in one fell swoop. The body twitched, writhed and toppled sideways, limp.

“Now for Kadabra,” Cold said.

“Money? All of this for money?” Immortus said. “What a ridiculous creature you are!”

Kadabra frowned. “No. No, no, NO! Didn’t you hear me? This isn’t about money at all! Now where’s yours?” He clenched his hand into a fist and the bonds holding Immortus tightened. “I just need a bit. A grub stake, if you will, before I begin my grand tour-”

Immortus began to laugh. Softly at first, then much, much louder. Kadabra blinked. Immortus wheezed. “You talk to me about boredom, little wizard? Me? An immortal? I AM boredom! Why do you think I wage war?”

“I assumed you possessed the same sort of nihilistic death-wish masquerading as megalomania that Vandal Savage has,” Kadabra said, affronted. “You want what you can’t have-”

“I could have had the world a hundred times over!” Immortus shrieked, eyes blazing. Kadabra flinched, forgetting for a moment that he held the upper hand. “I was Alexander the Great, you puling whelp! I was a great Khan! A Celestial Emperor! A King of Persia and a Consul of Rome! I held the world in my palm so many times that I’ve lost count!”

“Then why-”

“The game is the only important thing, you imbecile. The achieving of victory is worth more than the victory itself!” Immortus coughed. “I live to play the game. Your Cold understands that. He understands that how you play is more important than whether you win.”

“Don’t talk to me about him!” Kadabra snapped, hurling Immortus aside. “Cold is a fool! All of the Rogues are fools! It’s about the show, the stage, the applause! That’s what makes it worth it! They have to know what I’ve done! Me! Me! ME!”

“You always were a selfish creature, Abrakadabra,” a sizzling electronic voice said. Kadabra whirled, cloak flaring out.

Deadshot and the other villains stood below him, arranged in a rough semi-circle, weapons aimed. Deadshot held up a glowing sphere. Above the sphere, a holographic projection of a humanoid form was projected. Its face was a shifting legion of expressions-young, old, men, women, children, all races and nationalities. Kadabra’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, what’s this new toy?” he said.

“No toy, Kadabra. We are Mockingbird. And you are no longer necessary.”

“I-” Kadabra hesitated. “Wait. Wait, I know who you are. I can see you behind that shifting mask, you great-” He gestured, and the image gave a squeal of interference. Another shape began to take form as the mask was stripped away, byte by byte.

Purple light enveloped Kadabra. He screamed and tumbled from the air, hitting the wrecked steps and falling down them until he landed in a heap at the bottom, right at Deadshot’s feet.

Deadshot nudged him, rolling him over. Kadabra stared up at him, eyes empty, a trickle of drool running from between his slack lips. “Hunh. That’s a new one.”

“I told him I could fix it,” Immortus said, pulling himself to his feet, holding the Purple Ray. “A precision beam, directly into his cerebral cortex. It healed him of his insanity. Of course, from the look of him, insanity was all he had holding him together.” The old man aimed the Ray at the assembled villains. “Well?”

“I have an offer for you,” Mockingbird said, its image stabilized. “If you’re willing to hear it.” The image turned, looking at Cold. “For both of you.”

“Me?” Cold said.

Deadshot chuckled. “Yep. Great the way things work out, ain’t it? I wasn’t looking forward to going to Keystone. Place has crap hotdogs.”

“Would this be the same offer the Black Manta got?” Immortus said. “Or the Brain?”

“Your intelligence network is impressive, General,” Mockingbird said. “But yes. Yes it would be. We can be of great help to each other. All of us.”

“I have no problem with hearing you out,” Immortus grunted. He looked at Cold, who shrugged.

“Yeah. Fine. Why not?”

Deadshot laughed again. “That’s six.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Next issue: That’s six. Six villains-Kobra, Black Manta, the Scavenger, the Brain, General Immortus and Captain Cold. But why have they been gathered together? And who’s behind the gathering? Who is Mockingbird? And what is their ultimate purpose? Be here in thirty for the answers in SECRET SIX ANNUAL ’10-‘SEVEN SINNERS OF VENGEANCE’!