Alberto Valdez woke up this evening in a bed full of women and a horrible hangover thinking he was going to get up out of bed and head down to the bar, have a couple Coronas, find a couple broads to bring home and do it all over again. But he sat up out of bed and found a shadowy figure pointing a pistol directly at his forehead that clicked as the hammer was cocked back. He damn near crapped himself, his eyes wide, he didn't dare stir and wake the women that laid around him and startle the man stalking over his bed.
"Nice place you have here, Al." The Clue said, his lips curling into a smirk. "Still up to the old antics, I see."
"Who...who are you? What do you want?!" Alberto asked in a hushed but panicked tone.
"I'm but an old acquaintance." He tilted his head, waving his gun in small circles, then took a bow. Alberto found the man's mannerisms disturbing, just the way he moved and skulked over him was scary. He breathed through his teeth, making a dreadful hissing noise. "As for what I want to know..."
"There's--money, as much as you want--es en el--"
"I don't want money, bleedin' idiot. I want to know who you're working for these days and where exactly I can find them. Also, I would like to know where I can locate a good taco that won't make me regret it when I'm on the loo." Clue growled, Alberto's eyebrow arched. This wasn't an American and he'd only heard English like this once in his life, back when he was but a lad running coke for Tito Jimenez. He remembered way back when, there was a man who wanted him to show him around town, gave him a pretty penny to do so. He couldn't really place his name...
"You Carlos! You that weird guy--you tol' me to call you Carlos!"
"Not anymore I'm not. Now tell me who you're working for."
The Clue had the name he came for, and with it he jumped out the window. He was certain that Alberto would tip off his boss after he was gone. At least he was hoping for it. It was only minutes before he was at an old hole in a wall they called a bar down on the corner, out front there were two men with handguns, scanning the street for anyone matching his description approaching. He stepped from the shadows and made his way across the street in plain sight, he was hoping these guys weren't the type to shoot first and ask questions later type of guys, but they were, so they readied their guns and pulled back on their triggers letting off a volley of bullets.
How he made it across the street was a mystery, but only moments after the gunfire rung out the two men were sent flying through the door of the seedy establishment. Clue stepped in behind them, tucking the confiscated guns he'd taken from their now broken hands away on the back of his hip. His loafers clicked on the concrete floor, his eyes darting back and forth at the many men in domino masks and sombreros that were pointing an array of weapons at him.
"Now lets all be rational about this, gents. Yes, I did break these arses hands accidentally on purpose. But, in my defense...they shot at me and I did them the bleedin' favor of not putting two bullets in their foreheads, right?" He scanned the crowd, no one knew what he was talking about. These masked men didn't speak a lick of English. Then they started speaking among themselves while keeping their assault rifles trained on him, that told him that at least one among their numbers understood him. Clearing his throat, he arched his brows. "I'm looking for Emanuel Rosas."
One of the men stepped forward.
"An' what'chu' wan' wit' Rosas, vato?"
"I'm here to talk about business." Clue smirked a smirk that was visible even beneath his wrappings. "More accurately, I want to talk about getting his business back on track and taking care of those damned ninja running around your killing all your government contacts and whatnot. So how about a nice little sit-down over a spot of tea, yeah?" Then the chattering began again, one asked the other what he was saying, the other transliterated what he was told. Clue watched them closely, his eyes darting back and forth between the men dressed like Zorro ripoffs. One nodded to the other, and soon enough they all lowered their guns.
"All right." Clue stepped over the two thugs who were still sprawled out across the floor. A cell phone was ringing, one of the men flipped it open as the others led him toward the back room. He was led up a long hallway to a door in the back, a secret knock, a password and within was a man in a white business suit and a luchador mask with a red rose embroidered into the forehead. Atop of the desk he was sitting before was a white cowboy hat that matched his suit. And just like that the Clue was face to face with the man considered to be the most dangerous man in Mexico. A man who successfully ran Juarez for over ten years and former luchador, El Rosa.
"I hear you can help me with my problem." The ox of a man said, motioning him to sit. Unluckily the man who'd answered his phone before was answering a call that was going out to a number of ex officers who were ousted from the force for being dirty who was working undercover at the time in El Rosa's gang. It was a call to shoot all mystery men on sight.
The gun clicked and the Clue went to turn--
The shot rang out--
The bullet tore through the Clue's back--
"Bugger--!"
A pistol whip put the Clue down, the other men wrestled the gun from his grip before he could put one clean between his bandaged eyes. He could picked up stray words and sentences as his consciousness teetered back and forth. Something about a basement, him being with a bunch of American superheroes. Nothing really made sense, nothing he heard could be pieced together. He watched feet shuffle back and forth. That's what he got for being a blooming cowboy and going off on his own, he thought. Always the lone wolf, always testing authority. He could feel two hands hook underneath his arms and lift him just as he blacked out.
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