Rosa (Completed)

Preview of Coming After You: First chapter of Sequel (edited)

New Author's note: Sequel is called "Coming After You".

Author's note: Let the fun begin!

Bruce Wayne is a f****** rip-off.

One of the most-beloved American superhero characters, Batman, is according to the words of his own creator, Bob Kane, at least partially inspired by Zorro.

The resemblance was easy to spot-a suave, wealthy vigilante living in an era full of corruption and crime initially seeking vengeance, but ultimately learning justice was the answer all along.

Now, Zorro, known as a Spanish California hero, isn't even actually Spanish. He was created by an American, probably basing it off tales of the Old Wild West.

However, most people assume that Batman is wholly original, and that Zorro is a Spanish creation when in fact, he isn't.

Little known facts like these came to his mind when Agent Flores was put in a situation where others started making assumptions that aren't true.

Take this fellow in front of him for example.

"Are you sure you ain't at least one-part Mexican?", a tall freckled Southerner hollered, drawling his Southern accent for emphasis.

Agent Flores sighed. "I'm not Mexican," he answered for the umpteenth time.

The prolific DEA agent had originally come to this hole-in-the-wall bar next to a local pizza shop in an out-of-the-way strip mall because a tip from an ongoing case had led him there.

Peering inside, he had been greeted by bright neon lighting, dark wooden panels and a dirty atmosphere that caused him to hack for quite a bit. Just being in here was upsetting his former childhood dust allergy that he had thought conquered long ago.

Stepping through the entrance, a bell had rung causing a bartender with a sweaty scarlet bandanna to look up at him, point at an empty booth and go back to wiping an empty glass all in the span of a few seconds.

Sitting down at a booth by himself, he had observed the environment and noticed that the type of people that infested these waters seemed to be none other than 2nd-amendment toting rednecks which usually meant trouble for him.

Sometimes it pays not to be Hispanic, he thought.

Add that to the fact that he had spent an hour sipping water out of a straw waiting for his informant made this federal agent's day go from bad to worse.

Well, if the guy hadn't come by now, that probably meant his informant was a no-show.

So much time wasted, and on his day off no less.

"Well, you're speaking Mexican, so you have to be Mexican then," the guy deadpanned related to him.

Oh, this guy was being serious.

"Sir, the language I was just speaking previously in is Spanish, not Mexican," he explained, rubbing exasperatedly through his chestnut locks.

Having snapped back to the present harsh reality, he was reminded of why he didn't associate with drunks.

During the time he had adequately wasted in this joint, he got himself into this mess after a rude, belligerent customer had almost hit the poor kid mopping up the tables.

"LET ME DRINK! You spics' don't know when a man ain't done yet!", the savage giant roared.

Naturally, he intervened, calmed the would-be Tarzan and shooed the kid away in his native tongue.