Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(Belle Reve Penitentiary 12:00)
The blaring, almost deafening, sound of the metalic gates sliding open filled the hallway. Rick Flag -- patriotic soldier, Amanda Waller’s bitch (her words, not his), and former leader of the Suicide Squad -- entered the grim prison that was Belle Reve.
Normally, if a guard or random bystander saw a special forces operative strolling down the corridors of Reve, it would’ve been a sign that another mission was involved. Visitors with high authority often had guard and guard marching behind them, turning the empty corridors a North Korean parade. Weapons would be displayed 24/7, presenting any tempted prisoners that authority wasn't to be challenged unless someone desired a bullet to the head.
All in all, any visitor of Belle Reve would be (followed by) their own army.

Rick didn’t fit that agenda -- at least, not anymore. Instead, he came strolling through the notorious prison with nothing but the clothes on his back, a small Beretta Beretta M9 hanging from the belt of his jeans, and a knapsack looped around his shoulders. Being a special forces operative, certain benefits came with the title. For example, Flag was allowed to bring a knapsack into a highly secured facility without question. Scratch that, he was able to bring a knapsack into a highly secured facility after going through three security checkpoints. Still, in comparison to most visitors, it was still better than nothing.

Rick’s boots reverberated through the hallways, each stomp overshadowing the previous one. Soon enough, the audible noise attracted numerous prisoners towards the entrances of their cells. From the corner of his eyes, Rick was able to scan the faces that revealed themselves from the shadows. He made no effort to engage with the inmates, but rather continued his journey to the deepest cells within the hellhole.

After a few flights of stairs, and a couple of slips, Rick had made it to the first cell. The unmistakable stench of a sewer instantly greeted his nostrils, making him involuntarily gag. The ping of droplets of water landing onto the concrete ground was also becoming an all-too familiar sound. The BET Awards blasting through the narrow corridor? That was new. With a smirk, Rick made his way over to the cell of-
“Hey Tick-Tock!”
Waylon Jones, a.k.a Killer Croc, turned his head from the cabled program to his visitor. He let out a sea-parting snicker before leaping into the sewer water, temporarily disappearing underneath the sea of filth and moss. When he emerged from the water, he basically leapt onto the surface. When Rick momentarily flinched, the inmate snickered.
“Afraid, little man?”
“Hardly.”
“Why are you here again?”
“Already sick of me, eh? Alrighty, I can take the hint.”
As Rick set down his knapsack to retrieve three wrapped items, Croc asked, “How’s the other little man doing?”
“Who? GQ? He’s doing fine. He sends his gratitude, by the way.”
Edwards had every right to be grateful: if Croc hadn’t used his quick reflexes to pull him away, as well as shield him, from the bomb planted underneath Incubus, then he’d be good as dead. Croc had saved his life, yet he’d never gotten the opportunity to thank the mutate in person. So…he asked if Rick could pass on his words. Edwards’ gesture was small, but it still made Croc smirk.
“His scrawny ass wouldn’t last a day here.”
Rick snickered. “Can’t argue with that. Here,” he continued as Croc the wrapped items. “Thought you could use a break from all of this shit Reve calls food.”
He tossed Croc three burgers -- no hippie-dippy veggies or ingredients, just raw meat and cheese. When scale-riddled hands caught the packaged goods, Croc brought them up to his nose and sniffed.
“What, you don’t trust me?” Rick asked, amused by the other’s caution. “If you must know, it’s raw beef with cheese and some fish in there for you.”
Croc ignored the man’s remark and continued to inspect the food, using his enhanced sense to individually identify the different items. When he smiled, it signaled that Rick was correct. He looked back up at his (former) leader and nodded his head.
“Awesome.” When Rick returned the nod, Croc took a massive bite into one of the burgers. “Same time next week?”
“If you want.” The blonde reapplied the knapsack to his back before turning to exit the sewer-like confinement. “See you later, Waylon.”
“Waylon.” Rick stopped to turn to Croc. “Nobody’s called me that in a long time.”
There wasn’t a single trace of anger or rejection from Croc; only reminiscence and, dare Rick say, appreciation. The colonel waved to his former squad member before moving up towards the light, leaving the mutate in a state of nostalgia.

“Amigo!”
El Diablo -- or as Rick now refers to him as “the luckiest son of a bitch” -- extended his hand towards Rick, who immediately took it in order to conduct their “secret” handshake. The gang leader was still recovering from his encounter with Incubus -- apparently nearly being blown up into a million microscopic pieces can take a lot out of a guy. However, his powers allowed him to quickly transform into his full stage before the blast could completely kill him, thus allowing him to adapt to the fire. When medical teams arrived in the city, they had found him comatose and lying at least twenty feet below the earth’s surface. With some advanced medical serums and treatments, El Diablo was on the road to recovery. Rick had visited the boss frequently, asking for updates about his condition. Plus, he also enjoyed the other man’s company -- they exchange some music, business techniques, and simple (non-intrusive) stories. Unlike the other inmates, he and Rick had very little barriers (both moral and physical) between them, making their interactions more laid back.
“How you feeling, man?” Rick asked as he sat on the end of Diablo’s hospital bed.
“Gettin’ better and better.”
“You using your powers again?”
“Not really. Don’t wanna incinerate anyone here.”
Rick stared at his tattooed friend for a while, inspecting the genuine fear etched across his pale (and black) face. A few moments later, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal lighter.
“What’s that?”
“Practice,” Rick replied. “I’m guessing ‘not really’ means ‘not at all.’ Practicing with this lighter can help you regain your strength, and confidence.”
“I ain’t no X-Man, homie!”
“Didn’t you just say that you’re afraid of hurting others?” The drug boss didn’t reply. “Focus on the flame and try to manipulate its form. Soon enough, you’ll be back on your feet. Also, here you go.” He reached into his knapsack and tossed a comic book onto El Diablo’s lap. “Just in case you need some inspiration. I’ll see you later, amigo.”
“Peace, man.”
They conducted their handshake one more time before the blonde exited the prison’s hospital ward. Alone with the light and comic book, the latino reached for the comic. When he opened it, he found himself reading an X-Men story about Pyro, a pyrokinetic mutant.

The shouts filled with offensive rhetoric filled the next corridor Rick visited. Although it’d been nearly seven weeks after the squad had defeated Enchantress, the Australian bank robber had refused to accept that he’d been moved to solitary confinement. Each day, according to reports from fellow officers, George “Digger” Harkness would threaten every single guard who resided beside the steel door, not knowing that his threats were expanding his sentencing. At this point, the ten year relief now had little to no effect on Boomerang. When Rick approached the cell, he couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips when he heard more offensive -- this time, sexist -- rhetoric spewing from the robber’s mouth.
“Listen hear, you fuckwit, you’d better let me outta ‘ere before I rip every bloody soldier into a million peices!!! Do ya ‘ere me, you slagger?! Let me outta ‘ere before I-”
“Chill, Kano.”
The inmate's threatening thone almost immediately died down when Rick’s voice entered the mix. Now, Harkness spoke in a desperate, almost pathetic and pitiful, tone.
“Flag, you gotta let me outta ‘ere!”
The colonel lowered the small eye door so he’d be able to at least see his former squadmate. “Sorry mate, but I don’t have that authority. However, I will offer you some advice: lay off the insults, okay? Those men and women watching you are tallying up every vulgar statement spewing out of your mouth. The more insults you throw, the more time you’re here.”
“Meanin’?”
“Meaning that the ten year lift is practically useless.”
Harkness turned to the corner of his cell, where he could see a security camera perched on the ceiling. He lifted both of his hands and gave any viewer behind the camera the finger.
“There’s another three days,” Rick muttered to himself. “Here, I gotcha something that should keep you company for a while.”
Harkness turned back around only to find a stuffed pink unicorn in his line of vision. It was majestic -- perfect stitching, a beautiful rosy pink, and as big as a baby puppy. It was better than the one he’d received seven weeks ago. He carefully took the toy from Rick’s hand, treating the soft object as if it were china. Realizing that the robber wasn’t going to say anything important, Rick raised the small shaft before walking towards his final destination of the day. He couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face when an unholy, almost girly, scream of joy erupted from Boomerang’s cell.

The final cell Rick approached was one he’d become all-too familiar with, not that he minded. Whenever he reached the door, he could hear the other occupant pause whatever he was doing before striding over to the steel door. Face to face, Rick Flag found himself staring at-
“Hey Captain America.”
“Hey Deadshot.”

Chapter Text

“How are-”
“First things first,” Floyd interrupted as he extended his hand through the small opening within his cell.
Rick reached into the inner pocket in his jacket and pulled out two letters, each one decorated with a unique design created by crayons and colored pencils.

Unlike other prison guards, the colonel handled Floyd’s to-be belongings with extra care, treating them as if they’re his own. The letters were then placed into a hand who handled them as if they were gold, or some rare element that could shatter due to the slightest pressure. Rick’s brown-green eyes watched the hitman retract his hand, and the letters in them, back into the cell. Peeking through the small window, he could see Floyd staring down at the pieces of paper with so much pride and love that it was almost jaw-dropping. Then again, after their first encounter in Belle Reve, Floyd’s demands instantly proved to Rick that the man behind the bodies had a heart. Floyd moved to the edge of his cell and placed the letters underneath his pillow, where more letters from his daughter rested. The hitman straightened his shoulders before striding over to Rick.

“How’s the world out there?”
“Chaotic and bleak.”
“Same ol’ same ol’?”
“Yeah.”
“No crazy men dressed in weird comic-con costumes raisin’ hell on the streets?”
“Police managed to apprehend a man named Roy G. Bivolo. You ain’t gonna believe his supervillain name: Rainbow Raider.”
Floyd burst into laughter, occasionally hitting the steel door in the process. “You’re shittin’ me?” Rick, who was just as amused as Floyd was, shook his head with a smirk. “That My Little Pony-wannabe better have some badass power to compensate for that godawful name.”
“His goggles give him the ability to project solid beams of rainbow-colored light he can use as a slide for travel. He can also summon different colors of light and coat people in them to induce emotions.”
“Really? So, if he threw some red-ass beams into you, you’d turn into the Hulk 2.0?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn. Boomerang would get a kick outta a guy who cries rainbows. I mean, he ain’t shittin’ them out like regular unicorns, but it ain’t so far off.” After a few moments of (somewhat) awkward silence, Floyd addressed a different topic. “How’s Zoe?”
“Fine.”
“Grades slippin’?”
“Nope -- she’s still on the right path.”
“No boys?” Rick didn’t answer, but rather directed his gaze to the filthy floor. “Dude, you better be playin’ with me.”
“She’s growing up, and-”
“And I should just let some little punk take advantage of my daughter?!” Floyd yelled back, his voice reverberating throughout the corridor. “Listen here, Flag, I need you to white-cop this punk-ass!!”
“What the hell are you-”
“Annihilate that scrawny-ass kid! I don’t care if you pull an Auditore or a Pantaleo on his ass; get rid of him!”
“Lawton-”
“It ain’t like you’ll get indicted!”
Rick made a move to argue even further, but he stopped himself.

One distinct trait Floyd carried was an unshakable attitude towards his values. Never does he compromise his integrity or standards to accommodate a certain agenda. He had plenty of moments where he’d been in sticky situations that forced him to choose between his integrity and his freedom. But in the end, he still remained true to his word. Someone could argue for a year, and still end up short. Floyd wasn’t swayed by security or freedom; he stayed true to his moral code, and his only. To Rick, that trait was not only frustrating, but also admirable.

“Alrighty, I’ll make you a deal: I’ll keep an eye on the kid. If he seems like a threat, I’ll intervene.”
“You better, or else I’m going to rain down on you like-”
“The Holy Ghost? I believe you already had the pep talk with Griggs. If the kid’s dangerous, or takes advantage of Zoe in any way, he’s out. However, if he seems like a decent kid, then I’ll let your daughter live her life.”
Floyd looked like he was about to explode. “You ain’t her father, Flag! I am!! You don’t know her the way I do!!”
Rick raised his hands in surrender. “I never said I was her father. What I am suggesting is that she’s eleven, meaning that she’s entitled to make her own decisions. She’s growing up.”
“Shut the hell up, Flag.”
“It’s called puberty, Lawton -- we all go through it.” The hitman didn’t calm down. “Listen, Zoe ain’t stupid. Academics aside, she’s a very intelligent and strong lady. She’s smart enough to see through bullshit and separate right from wrong. I don’t need to do my ‘white people thing’ because she’s already heading for greatness. She got that greatness from somewhere,” Rick continued as he nodded to Floyd, “and now she needs the space to apply it by herself.” Floyd’s eyes softened. “You gotta trust her, man.” Then, as if a switch went off, tension immediately returned to the hitman’s shoulders. “If you’re going to have a temper tantrum, I suggest you take it out on that sandbag in the corner,” Rick offered. “Don’t wanna end up like Harkness.”
“Boomerang?” the hitman asked. “What’s up with him?”
“Nothing really. He’s just been taking his anger out the wrong people.”
Finally, the hitman seemed to calm down a bit, amused by his former teammate’s tantrums. “He raisin’ hell down there?” Rick nodded. “I don’t blame the man. We’re treated like shit down here -- less than shit, actually. We saved the goddamn world, yet we’re thrown back down into this hellhole as if nothing had happened. We’re nothing but disposable pawns.”
Rick patiently took in his former teammate’s words. It was true: they did save the world from certain doom, yet they were still thrown back into Reve. Their special privileges were good, but far from what they truly deserved.
“I’m sorry that-”
“Save it. Nobody has the right to comment on someone’s suffering unless they’ve gone through it themselves.”
“You ain’t a fan of condolences or apologies?”
“They don’t do shit! It ain’t like some pansy-ass apology is going to fix things!!”
Rick raised his hand in surrender. “Alright alright, I see your point. I’m guessing that I won’t be the shoulder to cry on.”
“Far from it, Flag.”
“Well…maybe I can pull a few strings and let Waller give y’all some extra privileges.”
Floyd let out a bark of laughter, much to Rick’s irritation. “You, Mister Steve Rogers 2.0, stand up to the She-Devil? You’re insane.”
“I have connections.”
Floyd looked around his cell as if he were taunting the colonel. “Hey man, there ain’t no one here you need to impress, alright? You don’t need to throw that card around like it’s a lottery ticket. Besides, your connections are part of her own squad. In other words, they’re useless. Nobody, especially her minions disobeys Waller unless they’re askin’ for a smackdown. You saw what she did in the Safe Room; she whacked her employees faster than Darth Vader. What makes a goody-two-shoe like yourself so confident?”
Rick shrugged. “Don’t really have much to lose, is all.” Before Floyd could investigate Rick’s unexpected despondent statement, the colonel got a phone call from- “Speaking of the devil.”
As Rick answered the phone call, Floyd used the opportunity to evaluate the colonel. To summarize Floyd’s current attitude towards Rick, it’d go as followed: Colonel Rick “Captain America Rip Off” Flag was different. Different could be interpreted in many ways, some positive and others negative.

While Floyd pitied the man’s weak backbone and dependency on others, he also respected his kindness and open-heartedness. He never belittled the prisoners -- at least, he never did following their victory seven weeks ago. He also never coddled them -- the conversations they had were sometimes so vulgar that they would’ve made their own grandmother’s turn in their graves. He talked to squad members with a perfect balance of aggression, calmness, and vulnerability. Also, despite the partnership that’d formed during and after their successful mission, Rick never treated one inmate better than the other -- he saw all squad members as equals who each possessed their own unique ability that balanced the group out. Unlike the prison guards who resided beside their cells, Rick treated the inmates like honorable soldiers who had value to this world. When others saw dependable monsters who were raised in the depths of Gotham’s sewers, the colonel saw capable men who deserved just as much respect as the wealthy or powerful. Rick Flag treated the squad like human beings. It may sound cliche or chick-flicky, but it was true… and Floyd secretly respected the man for that reason.

“I gotta split,” Rick said as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. 
“Master’s callin’ for her pet, eh?”
“Afraid so.”
“Kinda suspicious that’d she calls you as we’re talkin’ about her. You think she’s spyin’ on us?” Floyd asked as he pointed to the security camera stationed in a corner of the cell.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Rick responded as he looked at the camera too.
“That’s some 1984 shit.” Floyd turned back to the blonde. “I’ll see you next week, Star-Spangled Banner.”
Woah. The assumption that he’d return to Belle Reve next week indicated that his kind gesture had soon turned into an expectation, a tradition of some kind. However, unlike past visits, this was the first one where members of the squad wanted him to return. Although Rick would never admit it aloud, he was actually excited to return to Belle Reve. He nodded before turning to exit the facility. However, before he could fully disappear, Floyd’s voice called back to him.
“Hey Flag, you hear from Harley?”
Rick paused and turned back to address the man behind the steel barrier. “No. I’ll let you know of any updates.”
“You better. And bring some beer next time you’re here!!”
Rick rolled his eyes before striding back to the entrance, or exit, of the prison.

The colonel was stationed at the entrance, filling out mandatory paperwork that would permit him to leave. Just as he was about to sign his name, the sound of scuffling grabbed his attention. To his right, he could see three guards wrestling with a woman with pasty skin, pink and blue hair, and a heavy New York accent. 
“Oh shit,” Rick muttered to himself.
From afar, he watched Harley take down the three guards with shocking ease. She rarely stumbled, leaping onto opponents like they were a bull ride.
“WEEE,” she exclaimed as she mounted the shoulders of another guard.
Despite her crazy, borderline unhinged, personality, Rick was allured by her fighting style. There was an art in the way Harley fought. She was resourceful, majestic, and extremely aggressive whenever she battled a foe. Her witty-humor, followed by merciless slaughter, was repulsive yet captivating.

He made a move to assist her, but the weight of his cell phone, a reminder of the call he’d received, convinced him to retreat. Besides, he knew Harley was more than capable of taking care of herself. In order to prove his point, a sickening crunch, followed by a pain-filled moan, could be heard from a mile away.
“We need more backup!!” someone called over Harley’s squeals of maniacal laughter.

Yeah… she’ll be okay.

Chapter Text

(Task Force X Headquaters 14:00)
There was still thirty feet between himself and the door that led to Amanda Waller’s office, and yet Rick still felt shivers tickle his spine. It was actually quite funny and pitiful: Rick Flag, a soldier who’d seen the casualties of war on a daily basis, was afraid of a simple government official. However, once someone encountered The Wall, they would soon sympathize with Flag’s fears.

It was her unwavering composure that truly unsettled Flag. Despite her smaller frame, her voice alone had the power to make anyone fold into themselves, like a turtle hiding in its shell. No matter the situation, her voice was always balanced. She could concoct some horrific, almost Jigsaw Killer, death for her enemies and present it as if it were nothing unique. Within her balanced tone laid authority, entitlement, and confidence. She never stuttered, she never held back, and she never expressed remorse.

Her unsympathetic nature also frightened Rick. The colonel, as well as Floyd, watched Waller assassinate colleagues of hers as if they were flies. She exploited squad member’s histories and loved ones, using their vulnerability as leverage. She’d purposefully withheld Zoe’s letters to Floyd and even threatened June Moore’s life multiple times, knowing very well that Flag was enchanted (no pun necessarily intended) by her. She didn’t view colleagues as human beings who deserved sympathy and compassion. No; she saw everyone as disposable pawns that would be used to her advantage. Her ambition detached her from kindness and tranquility, resulting in her unyielding, cold-hearted nature.

Rick didn’t automatically enter Waller’s office. Instead, he stood right in front of the door and loudly inhaled in order to conjure up what remaining dignity and authority Waller hadn’t already demolished. Finally exhaling, he opened the door and-
“You’re late.”
“I had-”
“Did I ask for an explanation?”
Rick didn’t reply, instead moving to shut the door behind him. At this point in their partnership, Rick had given up on any attempts to converse with her, knowing very well that she viewed light talk as pitiful and wasteful. She was a lady who got straight down to business.
“There have been numerous sightings of a terrorist group roaming around the streets of Gotham. At first, I assumed that they were nothing but turban-wearing radicals displeased with American culture. However, as intelligence has gathered, this group is far from normal.”
She basically tossed a file directly at Rick, giving the colonel limited time to catch it. When the documents landed in his hands, he opened them and was greeted with numerous files on individuals with quite unique names: Chimera, Djinn, Jaculi, Manticore, Ravan, Agni, and Babd. As Rick continued to examine each file, he also began to pick up some of the group members’…interesting abilities. Darkness manipulation, superspeed and explosive javalines, cyborg, pyrokinetic who could conjure up fireballs; these individuals were superhuman.
“We’re dealing with X-Men ripoffs?”
“Exactly. They possess powers that could wipe out half of Gotham City in one night.”
“These guys have a name?”
“Onslaught.”
“Why doesn’t Batman take care of them?”
“I’m not letting some freak in a costume diminish Task Force X. Besides, this is personal. This group is state sponsored and are intentionally targeting us.”
Rick looked genuinely surprised. “They’re targeting Task Force X? I thought the project was secret.”
“Apparently someone blew the whistle. Either way, my project is now in jeopardy. The last squadron I was in communication with claimed to have found their headquarters located in the heart of the city.”
“Where are they now?”
“Six feet under.”
“So, what do you want me to do?” Rick already knew the answer, but he just wanted to hear it for himself.
“Gather the squad and exterminate those terrorists.”

The colonel placed the files back onto Waller’s desk and folded his arms, attempting to hide the frustration and doubt that lingered in his mind. There were two things at stake: Gotham City and the Suicide Squad. At first glance, the choice would seemingly be obvious; after all, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. However, Rick could feel his attitude towards the Suicide Squad change. Originally, if he hadn’t recruited them when he had, the colonel would’ve been more than happy to sacrifice his own life, as well as the lives of “scumbags”, if it meant securing the safety of the country. But now, after he and the squad had defeated Enchantress, Rick could detect a small (and slightly concerning) bond forming between himself and the others. Yes, each one of them carried traits that occasionally made them intolerable -- Rick had lost count of the many times he’d considered pulling a “white cop” on them. However, their annoying and frustrating traits is what made them so…interesting.

Throughout his time in the military, Rick had encountered numerous men who simply took orders without hesitation or (outward) reluctance. He himself was like that; a machine whose purpose was to simply obey. Before meeting Waller and the squad, he never expressed doubt or hesitancy whenever he was assigned a mission. He took orders like the good boy scout he was trained to be. But once he met a group of rebellious and borderline psychotic criminals, as well as a cold-hearted government official who manipulated and executed her followers as if they were unworthy pieces of filth, he found himself growing more curious and rebellious. He discovered a voice that he’d, until the Enchantress incident, had no idea existed. He found empowerment, authority, and even sympathy after leading a group of seemingly undisciplined and unremarkable criminals. Because of the Suicide Squad, Rick found his identity.

Suddenly, as if she had sensed his hesitancy, Waller brought up another point. “Perhaps this piece of history will motivate you. Did you know that your father had an encounter with them?”
“Wh-What?”
“During World War II, Rick Flag Sr. had attacked the Jihad’s stronghold named Jotunheim.”
“Why?”
“He needed to neutralize a Nazi prototype nuclear weapon.”
Rick felt like slapping himself in the face; how the hell did he not know any of this?! “Was he successful?”
“No. The group managed to evacuate their location, along with their bomb. Rumor has it that the bomb is planted in Gotham-”
“Where their headquarters are located,” Rick finished.
“Exactly. Complete this mission and not only will you protect Task Force X and the world, but you’ll complete your father’s mission.” Rick still didn’t look completely convinced, mostly because he was still trying to process the revelation. “Flag, I know that you’ll jump at any opportunity to antagonize my pride and determination, but at least now you know the full weight of this mission. It goes beyond Task Force X.”
After a few moments of careful consideration, the colonel nodded his head. “Alright,” he began, “I’ll gather them up and we’ll take off ASAP.”
“Good. Remember, if you fail-”
“They rot in Belle Reve? That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”  Taking a (silent) deep breath, Rick began his offer. “The squad, as low as they can be, deserve some more special privileges. Let’s not forget that they saved you from-”
“Are you questioning my program?”
“I’m questioning the treatment my squad-”
“Your squad?”
“Yes, my squad!” Despite her stone-faced appearance, Rick could detect a hint of surprise in his boss’ eyes. “If I’m sending them down there against the Inhumans, then I want them to receive some extra privileges of their choosing.”
“Do you realize who you’re talking to, Flag?” Waller reached into a desk drawer to reveal the pad that triggered the nano bombs implanted in the squad’s necks. “Last time I checked, I am the one who is in control. Besides, I could relieve you of your duty and hire someone who will be more compliant with my demands.”
“Do you really think the squad will bend over at a stranger’s command? We nearly blew each other's’ heads off before we found some kind of common ground. If it took that much time for them to simply obey me, imagine how long it’ll take for them to obey some complete stranger? You don’t really have that time to spare, do you?”

Deafening silence hung in the air, allowing previously insignificant sounds to become far more prominent. Despite the bravado he wore, Rick’s heart was pounding against his chest like a Native American Shaman Drum. While the back of his mind quickly conjured up numerous statements and comebacks that would be used to justify his seemingly “odd” behavior, he mostly remained prideful and headstrong. He didn’t regret raising his voice and standing up for the squad. He was making his overdue mark on Task Force X by standing up against the very founder of the project.
If Amanda Waller killed him on the spot, at least he’d go out knowing that he stood his ground and rebelled against The Wall.

Then, in a rare moment in history, Waller smiled. “Perhaps you do have a pair after all.” Rick felt his chest boil in anger, but he decided to remain silent. “I’ll be willing to negotiate some extra special privileges-”
“Alrighty-”
“-if they complete the mission.”
Rick wanted to advocate more, but his gut persuaded him to remain silent. He’d already stirred the pot enough; if he pushed any further, he was sure that Waller would easily slaughter him and make it look like an accident.
“Fair enough.”
“I want your squad on the streets of Gotham as soon as possible. Exterminate Onslaught and report back to me. Stop them before they wipe out Gotham and expose our project to the public eye.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes -- now go. I don’t want to see you in my office until the mission is complete. Is that clear?”
“Yes Ma’am.”

“GQ, this is Flag.”
“Hey Colonel!”
Rick, amused by his fellow soldier’s energy, snickered. “How you holding up?”
“Still pissing sewer water. Yourself?”
“Waller assigned Task Force X on a mission in Gotham.”
For a few moments, there was silence on the receiver. “I thought Enchantress was finished.”
“We’re dealing with a new terrorist group.”
“Group?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn.” A long pause. “I’m going to assume that you need my men for the job?”
“Correct. Once your men are ready, meet at Robbinsville in 1800 hours.”
“That’s in four hours…”
“You wanna complain, go take it up with Waller. But I’ll warn you in advance that she’s extra determined to finish this job.”
“Why?”
“...Business reasons.”
GQ sighed on the other end. “Alright, I’ll contact my men. We’ll meet you at ground zero.”
“Thanks, Edwards.”
“Hey Flag, has intelligence identified the group?”
“They’re called Onslaught, and they’re a group of metahumans.”
“W-Wait…did you say metahumans?!”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“COLONEL, WHAT DID YOU-”

Rick ended the call, effectively cutting off Edward’s concerns. He didn’t want to hear any questions or concerns relating to the mission because they weakened his own confidence in the mission and himself.

Chapter Text

(Belle Reve Penitentiary 14:58)
“PULL ‘EM OUT!!”
Floyd, who had just finished another sparring session with his sandbag, snapped his head to the steel door. Behind the barrier, a stampede of guards rushing towards his cell could be heard. The hitman instinctively turned his body to face the door and moved into a combative stance. As the thunderous stomps grew closer and closer, Floyd’s shoulders began to tense.
“Bring it on,” he muttered to himself.
Finally, the door was thrown open and four guards came barging into the small space towards Floyd. It was dejavu.

(Midway City Airport 15:30)
“Sonuvabitch.”
Rick and his men, who were armed and stationed inside a loaded cargo plane, watched the prison guards roughly escort the inmates towards the center of the field where their gear and weapons rested. Even from a far distance, the colonel could already tell that the transition from prison to Gotham wasn’t going smoothly.

The aussie had freed himself from three guards’ holds and, once again, began to viciously attack those who dared confront him. There was almost half a mile between Rick and the others, yet he could still hear the cracks and whumps from Harkness’ fists connecting with flesh and bone.
“There’s another five years.”
However, as Rick watched the scene unfold, he noticed something different from the first time he’d encountered the squad as a whole. Beforehand, whenever one of the inmates had an outburst, the others would simply look on, respond with some snarky wisecrack, or ignore the disruptor all together. They were in their own worlds, consumed by their own questions and greed. Now, as Harkness was being roughly pinned onto the ground, other squad members -- Floyd, Waylon, and Chato -- instantly moved to assist the robber. While they didn’t necessarily confront the guards, they still made attempts to push or pull them away from Boomerang. Rick felt the corner of his lip tug upwards as he witnessed his squadmates selflessly defend each other -- and to think that  it only took a possessed evil witch hellbent on destroying the world to unite them. Now, it was his turn to defend them.
“Stay here,” he ordered as he exited the cargo.

El Diablo, who had moved to pull Harkness from the ground, felt an unexpected pair of hands viciously shove him onto the ground. The gang leader, who considered himself a peaceful man, suddenly felt an old and dangerous feeling build inside him: anger. Even after he and his friends had saved the world, and even when it nearly costed them everything, they were still treated less than dirt. It just wasn’t right.
“GET BACK!” a faceless voice exclaimed.
“HE’S GONNA BLOW!!” another said.
It wasn’t the exclamations that forcibly brought Chato back to reality, but rather the concerned looks his fellow inmates were sending him. Floyd, Waylon, and George had begun to slowly back -- or in Harkness’ case, crawl -- away from the pyrokinetic. It was only then when Chato’s brain finally registered the growing heat beneath his palms. Looking down, his heart skipped a beat when he saw flames gathering from his palms, threatening to launch themselves at anyone who dared approach him.
“Chato, it’s okay!!”
The pyrokinetic saw Rick, the man he’d (almost) consider a brother, running towards him. The man wasn’t pointing his weapon at him like he was some rogue animal, but rather extending his hands towards the mutate. Despite the initial relief, Chato still moved away from the approaching man.
“Get away from me, Flag!! I don’t want to hurt you!!”
“You’re not going to hurt anyone, okay?”
“STAY BACK!!”
Rick had become so invested in reaching his squadmate that he hadn’t noticed how much distance he had covered: he was now dangerously close to the endless stream of flames. His newly trimmed hair felt like it was being singed. The colonel’s eyes traveled from the distressed pyrokinetic to the guards surrounding the duo. It was then when his brain finally registered the numerous guns being pointed directly at the inmate. Rick put two-and-two together.
“Everyone, lower your weapons!”
“Wh-What?” one guard stammered. “He could go rogue, and-”
“Pointing your guns at him like he’s a rabid animal isn’t helping the situation,” Rick interrupted. “Lower your weapons now!” Nobody moved an inch, and the colonel felt his patience run thin. “I’m not asking y’all again! STAND DOWN! THAT’S AN ORDER!!!”

Everyone, even the inmates, found themselves flabbergasted by the colonel’s newfound voice. The squad, notably Floyd, hadn’t expected a seemingly dependent and cool-headed man like Rick to explode like that. Even when they were getting shot at, the colonel always managed to remain calm and collected. Now, when El Diablo’s sanity was on the line, Rick took the initiative to take control of the situation. Neither his eyes nor his posture left room for arguments -- they were going to obey his orders unless they wanted thirty bullets loaded into them.
Surprisingly enough, Chato was moved by his friend’s outburst. Scratch that, he was moved the moment Rick abandoned his station in order to defuse the situation. Despite being a walking furnace, Rick never pointed his gun at the pyrokinetic. Not once did he raise his machine gun, not once did he raise his voice (until just now), and not once did he blame the mutate for his inability to control his powers.
“Everything’s alright, compadre,” Rick continued to the gang leader. “Just take a few deep breaths. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
Even as Rick guided him to a place of serenity, he didn’t do it in a demeaning or humiliating way. There was authority beneath the gentle voice that unintentionally proved to all of the trigger-happy men that a balance between peace and order was optional and the most effective. Rick didn’t treat El Diablo like a child or some rabid animal that needed to be out down on sight: he treated him like a human being who, in the heat of the moment, was lost. Slowly, the flames began to recede back into Chato’s palms, dancing around his hands until there nothing left but a mere spark. Everyone, including Rick, let out a breath they had no idea they were holding.
“You okay, Chato?” the colonel asked as he patted the other’s back.
“Thank you…”
For a moment, Rick looked surprised at the words of gratitude. He was extremely tempted to pull Chato aside and help him control his abilities, therefore giving them an excuse to just hang out and chill together. But, they had a mission to complete…and time was scarce.
“Here,” he began as he reached into his pocket, “practice a little bit more.”
He handed Chato another lighter with a smirk, missing the look of gratitude from the pyrokinetic, before turning to address the guards. “Now, if sanity has been restored, I’ll take charge of these men. The rest of you can go on about your day, alright?” While some guards nodded, others still remained in a state of shock from recent events. “Dismissed!!”
Then, as if a button had been pressed, the guards walked away from the field as if nothing had happened. Finally, Rick and his squad were alone.

Finally, after a few moments of peaceful silence, Floyd was the one to break it. “So Captain America, what’s the deal? Why are were here?”
“I’m sorry, did you want me to throw your ass back in Belle Reve?”
“You threatenin’ me, Huckleberry Finn?”
There was zero heat or seriousness in their words: everyone knew that they were bantering. Rick smirked before returning back to business.
“Waller assigned us to exterminate a group of metahuman terrorists-”
“Hell no,” Waylon growled.
“Is that sword-wielding doll gonna help us?” Everyone looked at Harkness, who merely shrugged his shoulders. “What? A man needs motivation, is all.”
“That pink unicorn and a six pack wasn’t enough to satisfy you, huh?” Floyd asked as he nodded to the open black crate below Boomerang’s feet.
“Is she gonna be there, Flag?”
“...Maybe.”
Captain Boomerang released an enormous smile that unintentionally revealed his silver and cavity-riddled teeth. The man let out a squeal of some sorts, prompting Rick to roll his eyes.
“Hey Flag,” Floyd interrupted, “the She-Devil knows we’re not superhumans, right? We nearly got our assess handed to us after battlin’ a possessed witch, so how the hell are we gonna defeat a group of these psychos?”
“Waller and I made a deal: if you complete the mission, you get extra privileges.” All men instantly perked up. “They all have to be reasonable, but they’re not necessarily limited as much as the first round.”
“How’d Waller agree to this?”
“I persuaded her and-”
“Get the fuck outta here.”
Rick reached into his pocket and showed the hitman an iPhone that could link them to Amanda herself. “If you wanna give her a call, then be my guest. Otherwise, I’d like to get this show on the road as soon as possible.”
Floyd stared at the blank phone before moving his gaze back to Flag. “You seriously got Waller to give us more shit?” The colonel nodded as he put the phone back into his pocket. “Why?”
Rick shrugged his shoulders. “Considering that the stakes are a little bit higher, and considering that we’re battling against X-Men offspring who possibly destroy us without lifting a finger, I’d say that y’all deserved a little more than what was originally offered.”
Floyd looked impressed: not only did Rick stand up to Waller, but he actually won the battle. The colonel fought for the squad…
“Alrighty, everyone suit up,” Rick ordered as he pointed to the numerous chests resting on the ground. “I want y’all on that cargo plane in twenty minutes or less -- okay?”
“Aye Aye, Captain,” Boomerang announced as he saluted the colonel.
As the men prepared for battle, Rick took the opportunity to scan the group. Someone was missing… someone important. Then, it hit him.
“I gotta find someone. If any of y’all try anything stupid-” Rick trailed off, instead replacing the remaining threat with pointing at the armed military men in the cargo plane, who were also watching the inmates with caution and assertiveness. “-they’ll drop y’all like flies, and I don’t wanna be responsible for cleaning up an inevitable mess. I’ll be back shortly.”
As Rick walked away from the squad, they all looked back at military men, who merely waved their hands at the inmates. Their response was middle fingers flipping them off in return.

(Belle Reve Penitentiary 16:10)
The colonel quickly guiding himself through maze, that was Belle Reve, in order to find one of the last remaining squad members. After a few minutes, he found himself on top of the deck that was directly above the cell of-
“Listen here, buster, I ain’t anyone's but Mister J’s.” Rick stopped mid stride and instead knelt down on the platform, hoping that the inmate below him wouldn’t notice him. “Once he finds me, you all are screwed.”
“That’s cute, sweetheart, but everyone here made sure that nobody’s gonna free you again.”
Rick could hear a monstrous snarl coming from the cage, but made no move to intervene. Instead, he stayed low and listened, silently promising himself that he’d intervene if things got violent.
“Do you really think the man who pushed you from a two-story balcony and left you in an alley dumpster is gonna find you? He doesn’t love you, Quinn, and he sure as hell ain’t coming to rescue you.”
Boot steps leaving the cell were instantly replaced with screams and threats. “Mister J. is going to find me, and when he does, I’ll be sure that he rips you limb from limb!! I’ll make sure you suffer the same fate Robin did!!! Do you hear me?!?!”
Rick could hear the footsteps approaching him, prompting him to stealthily move back towards the closed door before standing back up as if nothing had happened.

Taking a deep breath, the colonel opened the door and began to walk towards the approaching guards.
“What can I help you-”
“Harley Quinn has been assigned a mission on behalf of the United States government. I was asked to retrieve her and prepare her for the task at hand.”
“Trust me, you don’t want her on your team,” one guard said. “She’ll turn on you faster than the Joker did on her. She’s not worth your time-”
“And yet she helped save Midtown City a few weeks back. She may be mercurial, but she’s done more to protect this world in a single night then y’all have done in your entire lives, combined.”
The colonel could see anger boiling within their eyes, but his own stern and confident gaze silently dared them to try something. After a few tense moments, Rick extended his hand and patiently waited for one of the guards to plop their cell keys into his outstretched palm. As soon as the metal object landed in its rightful location, Rick moved right past them -- refusing to spare a single glance -- towards the cell resting in the center of the room. The inmate trapped in the cell, however, didn’t seem to hear his appearance. Instead, and much to Flag’s confusion and concern, she began to cry. It wasn’t dramatic, gross-sobbing cries, but rather soft (and wet) sniffs. The colonel paused midway down the flight of stairs and examined the scene below him.

Everyone had someone or something that made them…vulnerable: Rick’s weakness was his love for June Moore; Floyd’s was Zoe; El Diablo’s was his own destructive powers; Katana’s was her husband’s soul locked away in her sword forever; and Boomerang’s was…a pink stuffed unicorn. As Waller had told him, “Everyone has a weakness, and that weakness can be leveraged.” Rick didn’t like taking advantage of the vulnerable or the lost; it was completely immoral. Then again, since when did Waller have morals? She did whatever it took to get people on her side and comply with her demands. Rick was determined, but not insane. During his time in war, he saw just how fragile people really were, and how the “macho, tough-guy or girl” act was merely a facade. And then, as if to prove his point-

“Well well well, I never thought I’d see you again.”
Rick snapped himself from his musing and focused on Harley Quinn, who appeared almost as if nothing had happened, as if the earlier confrontation was a mere dream. The colonel straightened himself before making his way down to her cell, where Harley was leaning against the steel bars in a seductive manner.
“I missed you, soldier boy,” she purred.
“I, uhhh… yeah.” Rick wasn’t attracted to her, but he could still feel heat growing on his cheeks. “So…what’s a pretty boy like yourself doing in a place like this?”
“I actually came here to recruit you for a mission.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. You’ll be reunited with Floyd, Waylon, Chato, and all of those crazy characters.”
“Family reunion!! We’ll be one big, freaky family together. Sorry, but I gotta pass on this one, honey.”
Rick acted like he was surprised, yet he already knew the reason for her hesitancy. “Really?”
“Really. But hey, send me a postcard!”
The colonel stared at the women behind bars, carefully evaluating her face in order to confirm his theory as to why Harley was acting so…different. “What’s going on? There’s gotta be some reason Harley Quinn would turn down the opportunity to kill people. So, what is it?”
Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I’m bored of killing people.”
“I highly doubt that…”
Rick trailed off and looked down at Harley’s exposed stomach. There were two scars -- one near her left hip and the other vertical one next to her belly button -- resting on her skin. They weren’t there before and, according to Rick, they were made a few weeks back, during her absence from Belle Reve.
“You like what you see?” Harley asked, leaning closer towards the colonel as the bars would allow.
“Where’d you get those?” Rick asked as he pointed to the scars.
Harley followed the colonel’s finger and stared at the markings for a few moments. It was then where Rick finally saw the pain, betrayal, and vulnerability that she’d worked so hard to hide. The colonel wanted to gently coax Harley into revealing the source of her markings without getting on her bad side. She was already a stubborn
“How’d you get those?”
“That’s none of your business, is it?”
“Well, it kind of is. You see, I can’t have any soldier go into battle with some kind of emotional baggage. My men and women need to be one-hundred percent on the field.” Harley was shooting Rick with an unreadable expression, meaning that he was getting closer. “Did you know June broke up with me?”
“The witch broke up with you? Awww, my poor baby.”
“It hurt like hell -- I fought for her, I bled for her, and I nearly died for her. I would’ve done anything to make her happy …yet she leaves me, almost as if everything I’d done for her had no impact whatsoever on her life.” Harley stared intently at Rick. “It hurts knowing that someone you love with all of your heart can still abandon or turn on you in less than a second. It’s almost as if what you had meant nothing to them…”

He wasn’t lying. One week after the Enchantress incident, June had decided to leave Rick. While the colonel completely understood why -- being possessed by an ancient spirit hell bent on destroying the world could lead to existential crises -- that still didn’t numb the pain. The moment June broke up with him, Rick felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart, leaving an unbearable ache inside him. He loved her with all of his being, and even offered moral support during her conflicted moments, but yet that wasn’t enough. He could’ve given her the entire world… and yet it still wouldn’t have made her completely happy. Rick would admit that he was slightly mad at June for the unexpected breakup, but, deep down inside, he knew that anger was temporary…just like his sadness.

Rick could see Harley processing the confession. He knew that they shared similar experiences -- they both felt betrayed, angry, and, most importantly, hurt. Their significant other kept them grounded while encouraging them to go beyond their comfort zones. The Joker and June saw past Rick and Harley’s flaws and insecurities, boosting their confidence. Rick and Harley did everything in their power to make their partner’s happy: they fought, they bled, they stole, and even killed. Yet, despite their sacrifices and breach of morals, their partners didn’t necessarily acknowledge them. In the end, when they cut off ties, it felt like it was all for nothing…and that, once again, they were alone.

“Whatcha you do after she left?” Harley asked, genuine curiosity hidden in her voice.
“Well, I did the only thing I could: I moved on.”
“Why would you forgive someone who hurt you like that?”
“Hold up now, I didn’t say I forgave. There’s a difference between moving on and forgiving.” Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, what good am I to anyone if I just sit on my ass and cry about something out of my power? The best thing for me, and for everyone else, is to just hold my head up high and move on.”
Harley didn’t look completely convinced. “How can you move on from someone who’s been a part of your life for so long?”
“I convince myself that I don’t necessarily need someone to validate my loyalty and self-worth. I’d like to consider myself a capable man-”
“That’s cute, hun.”
Rick rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t need to prove anything to anyone unless I want to, and you should feel that way too.” A long pause. “I also surround myself with people who don’t critique my self-worth or personality: they accept it without any judgement or concern. Those are the people I care about…” Harley’s personality brightened. “You know, the Suicide Squad wants you with them. They care about you and won’t ever leave you hanging…”
“Will you?”
For a moment, Rick was blindsided by the question. “Never,” he replied honestly.
“Even after I killed a whole bunch of people?”
“Hey, I’m ain't so clean either. Besides, how can I abandon the girl who saved my ass more times than I can count?” Harley giggled. “We need you, Harley.”
The inmate could see Rick struggling with the last part of the statement. She knew it wasn’t because he was being a hypocrite or a liar, but merely because of masculine pride.
“Come on,” she purred. “Say it.”
“I…need you too.”
When Harley squealed, Rick nearly jumped out of his shoes. The sound reverberated throughout the large room, echoing down the hallways.
“So,” Rick began as he moved the cell keys towards the lock, “are you in?”
Harley smiled. “Let’s go kill some bad guys!!”

(Midway City Airport 16:55)
“Hello boys!!! Did you miss me?”
In the traditional Harley Quinn style, the female inmate leaped from the helicopter and waved towards the male inmates in the cargo plane. When everyone turned their head to the source of the announcement, they all did a double take.

The playful, Spirit Halloween outfit she’d worn in the previous fight had been ditched. Now, she wore a more gothic, Hot Topic outfit.
This time around, she wore thicker leggings that gave her much more protection and flexibility. The sleeve of her left leg was black, while the right sported a crimson red color. The top of her leggings had patches of black and crimson red spades resting where her thighs were -- the spades were located on the opposite leg, contrasting against their respective environment. She wore long and laced black combat boots that went up to her knees, effectively giving her more stability and power with every step she took. Hey, they were better than the heels! Covering (most of her) upper half was a crimson red corset with a small black patch located where her right breast was. The tip of her pigtails were now dark red and black, heavily contrasting her usually pasty hair. On her forearms were red and black sleeves that were also secret knife holders. Her hands were covered by leather red and black fingerless gloves that went up to her wrist, just meeting the forearm sleeves.
In short: she looked more than ready to kick some ass.

“Damn!” Chato said. “You lookin’ fine.”
Waylon let out a purr that ended up sounding like a snarl, while Harkness felt his baby-maker harden a bit. Even the military men found themselves speechless, deciding to awkwardly look around the cargo plane in order to avoid awkwardness or arousal. Rick, who had been forced to watch Harley change in the helicopter, emerged from the aircraft with red cheeks, wide eyes, and a look of absolute discombobulation. When his eyes found Floyd’s, he wasn’t surprised when the hitman gave him a thumbs up. Agitated even more, Rick shook the shock out of his mind and strode to the cargo plane with a little more composure.
“It’s nice to see you again, dollface,” Floyd said as Harley moved to sit beside her friend.
“Aww,” she replied as she wrapped her arms around the hitman’s shoulders to pull him into a hug, “you're welcome.”
To the best of his ability, Floyd returned the hug and smiled when his friend finally sat down beside him. She leaned down in her seat and opened a small black crate. Inside were two Smith & Wesson .500 and a metal baseball bat with the same engravings GOOD NIGHT painted on the surface.
“For me? Aww, you shouldn’t have.”

Once she sat down, weapons locked and loaded, Rick stepped onto the cargo plane just as the engines roared to life.
“Alright,” he announced over the noise, “are we all ready?!”
While the military men replied with a stern, “SIR, YES SIR!”, the squad opted to cheer and wave their weapons around like a bunch of five year olds. Boomerang even went so far as to crack open a beer from the six pack he’d received and holding it up in the air. At that moment, Rick felt his heart leap with joy. That missing void that’s been sitting in his soul since June left him had finally been filled. In some ways, he felt like he was standing in front of his family… his psychotic, unstable family.
Rick smiled. “Let’s roll out!!”

Chapter Text

(Gotham City: Robbinsville 17:58)
The cargo plane hadn’t even touched the ground yet, but Rick could feel that something was off. Nothing on a catastrophic level -- not even on a worrisome level -- but still, none the less, odd. He looked outside through the small window and saw nothing -- no chaos, no landmarks set ablaze, no mobs, and no enemies awaiting their arrival.

“GQ,” he began through his earpiece, “are y’all at ground zero?”
A few moments of static was followed by, “Yes sir.”
“Are there enemies in sight?”
“No sir. Why?”
“No reason. I’ll see you in two.”
“Copy that.”
Rick leaned back against his seat and glanced around at his squad, who were going about their casual conversations. Everything seemed to be in order, so why-
“Colonel!”
Rick winced at the unexpected voice in his earpiece. “What is it?”
“Approaching aircraft in sight, South of our location.”
The cargo plane the squad was in was heading towards ground zero from the West. “Model?”
“Boeing-Sikorsky RAH-66 Comanche.”
Damn. “Hold your fire, but stay alert. If they engage, find cover and stay put until we all are on the ground to give you support.”
“Boss,” GQ now shouted over a loud noise from the receiving end, “the aircraft touched down and-” A long pause. “The man exiting the aircraft is saying that he’s with Waller.”
That was very odd. Last time Rick checked, this operation was top secret, seeing how the fate of Task Force X was at stake. Before he could respond, the cargo plane had landed safely at their destination, prompting some of the inmates to groan in disappointment.
“That wasn’t as fun as the first time,” Harley whined.
The colonel stood up and motioned his men to follow him out. However, when the Suicide Squad began to unbuckle their seats, Rick stopped them all.
“Y’all stay here. My men and I may be dealing with someone-”
“Evil?” Floyd responded. “Ain’t that the reason we’re here?”
“No. This person is a representative of Waller. Seeing how I’m not exactly on her good side right now, it’s best to just stay put.” Rick nodded to his men. “Move out.”

When the loading dock door finally opened, Rick and his military men walked out onto the street. Almost immediately, GQ comes walking towards his leader. Edwards’ however, briefly stopped in his tracks when his eyes found Killer Croc, who smirked back at the SEAL.
“Hello, little man,” Waylon greeted from his seat. “Long time, no see.”
GQ rather awkwardly nodded his head before turning back to his commander. “Glad you made it, Boss.”
“Same goes for you and the SEALS,” Rick replied as he nodded to the stationed men behind GQ. “So, who is this mysterious stranger.”
“His name is-”
“Colonel Mushtaq.”
GQ and Rick turned to the new voice and saw the stranger approaching the duo.

The first thought that came across Rick’s mind was that the man looked like a blonde-version of that Ken doll from Toy Story 4. He had fluffy blonde hair that out-shined Rapunzel’s locks, blue eyes that matched the ocean, and a jaw of steel. He wore a black body suit -- with a red patch of the justice scale over his left breast -- that highlighted his abs. In short, he looked like a less attractive, more douchier Steve Rogers.

“Colonel Rick, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the blonde introduced as he extended his hand.
When the other leader took the man’s hand, he thought all of his fingers would break due to Mushtaq’s Superman-like grip. When he shook Rick’s hand, his muscles flexed, causing GQ and Rick to glance at each other nervously.

“So Colonel Mushtaq, what brings you here?”
“That’s confidential information. All you need to know is that Amanda Waller assigned me to lead this mission.”
Everyone around the trio snapped their heads towards them, expressions of confusion and surprise written on their faces. Even Rick and GQ looked surprised at the announcement.
“Waller and I had a debriefing,” Rick began, “and she appointmented me to lead this squad.”
“Well, perhaps you and I can co-lead, and-”
“That won’t be necessary; I already assigned my right-hand man. Two of them, in fact.”
While Rick patted GQ’s shoulder, he turned to the open cargo plane. “Hey Deadshot, can you come here for a bit?”
The hitman looked at his squadmates before unbuckling himself and moving towards the trio. Soon enough, the rest of the Suicide Squad followed his lead. Once Floyd arrived, Rick placed a firm hand onto the hitman’s shoulder, earning him a raised eyebrow from Floyd.
“This here is Floyd Lawton, also known as Deadshot. He’s one of the best shooters in the world-”
“The best,” Floyd corrected with broken coughs.
“-and I trust him. He and GQ are my right-hand men during this operation.”
“You’re appointing a murderer who left more people dead than the Iraq War for a covert mission?”
“He successfully led the Suicide Squad in the Midtown City operation.”
“Would you trust him with your life?”
Floyd turned to Rick, waiting for what would no-doubt be a disappointing and insulting answer. “Yes,” Rick replied. “During our mission, he saved my ass more times than I could count. He risked his life for me and the squad, and I know he’d do it again.”

The hitman stared at Rick in shock. The colonel had just appointed him as right-hand man -- GQ, while loyal and courageous, didn’t have anything on him when compared to the hitman and therefore wasn’t considered a right-hand man…at least in Deadshot’s book. The fact that Rick trusted him enough to not only to lead a vital mission, but also with everyone’s life against metahumans, was like a badge of honor. Floyd wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug Rick, or punch him in the face for making him want to hug someone.

For a few moments, everyone went dead silent. Rick wasn’t backing down for a moment -- this was a battle he refused to surrender to. Colonel Mushtaq already appeared to be an arrogant soldier who believed that he was entitled to all of the power and control. Rick refused to hand over his squad to a man who saw them as incapable murderers and could instantly turn his back on them. His friends’ lives were at stake…and he wasn’t going to compromise them for a single second.

Meanwhile, all of the onlookers looked back and forth between the colonels as if they were watching a tennis match. There was a silent battle for power between Rick and Mushtaq, and it was one nobody wanted to get involved in. However, despite Waller’s request for another leader, everyone fighting had already made up their minds: they wanted Rick to be their leader. While the military men trusted Rick’s experience and expertise, the Suicide Squad honored Rick’s integrity and kindness. They appreciated following a man who treated them with equal respect, dignity, and compassion.

Eventually, Mushtaq cleared his throat and looked at Deadshot, who eyed the man suspiciously. “So, uhhh-”
“Deadshot,” Floyd filled in. “You call me Deadshot or The Greatest Sniper on Earth -- either one will do just fine.”
“Is that self-proclaimed?” Rick asked with slight amusement. “Or did your grandmother give you that title?”
“You have my file, don’t you?” Knowing the response -- the body count spoke for itself -- , the colonel looked down at his feet. “Yeah,” Deadshot continued, “read it and weep, bitch.”
“Well Deadshot,” Colonel Mushtaq interrupted, “while I do respect Rick’s request, I must protest. You are not qualified to lead this squad.”
“We don’t like you,” Harley, who was carelessly spinning her bat around in the background. “We want Rick and Floyd!!” GQ awkwardly cleared his throat. “Oh yeah, and him too.”
Mushtaq could feel anger boiling inside him. “Lady, you’re not in control here. In fact, the only person who is in command here is me.”
“We could overthrow your ass,” Harkness suggested from afar.
“If everyone doesn’t shut up, I’m going to make sure that Waller-”
“Are you threatenin’ our team?” Floyd suddenly growled as his finger unconsciously moved to rest on top of the trigger of one of his rifles.
“There is no ‘our’ in this equation, Floyd.”
“Only my friends call me Floyd,” the hitman shot back. “Listen here, Rick and I-” Once again, GQ had to awkwardly remind the team of his presence by slowly raising his hand. “-and GQ are in charge.” Floyd was now dangerously close to the new colonel. “We’re runnin’ this joint, and one of the first things you should know is that if you threaten any of our squadmates, we’re gonna dance.”  
“I’m not letting a criminal lead a group of honorable men and women!”
“Ey, Flag led us, and we saved the damn world!” El Diablo, who was now feeling his anger rise a bit, stated. “Not bad for a couple of lowlifes, wouldn’t you say?”
Colonel Mushtaq had lost his patience. “AMANDA WALLER PUT ME IN CHARGE!!!! IF YOU ALL HAVE A PROBLEM, GO TAKE IT UP WITH HER!!”
With a shrug, Harley skipped over to Rick, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his cellphone. However, before she could press a button, Mushtaq slapped the device from her hand, causing it to crack onto the ground. Meanwhile, the Suicide Squad instantly raised their weapons -- or in El Diablo and Waylon’s cases, fists -- towards the attacker. This prompted all of the military men to raise their guns and aim them at the inmates.
“Looks like we got ourselves a Mexican standoff,” Harkness said with a smirk.

Unable to tolerate anymore embarrassment, Mushtaq moved to strike the aussie. However, only after two strides, a sword spurting green skulls, that resembled ghosts and souls, was pressed tightly against his throat. From the corner of his eye, he could see a Japanese female wearing a white mask glaring right at him. What should’ve been an intense moment was ruined by-
“Katniss!!” The sword-wielding assassin rolled her eyes as Captain Boomerang excitedly waved at her like a schoolgirl. “Remember me?!”
<“Why is he here?”> she asked Rick in Japanese.
<“We need his help.”> A pause. <“Feel free to subdue him at any point, cowgirl.”>
Katana smirked before turning her attention back to Mushtaq, her next potential victim. <“Who is he?”>
<“Some jackass Waller sent down.”>
<“Should I kill him?”> Rick raised his eyebrows in surprise. <“She won’t notice he’s gone.”>
<“A tempting offer, but probably not a wise one, seeing how I’m already on her ‘shit list.’ Stand down, Katana, and welcome back to the squad.”>
Slowly, the assassin lowered her sword before sheathing it back into its holder. She then backed away from the man until she was standing beside the mountainous Killer Croc, who purred at her arrival.
“Welcome back, shorty.”

Realizing that tensions were still high, Mushtaq made an attempt to bring order back to the operation.  “Everyone, calm down!!” he ordered.
When nobody made any moves, Rick sighed. “Gentlemen, lower your weapons!”
This time, everyone did as the colonel demanded without hesitation. Mushtaq let out a snarl before striding towards Rick until they were practically chest-to-chest. Floyd, who was standing beside Rick, had his finger on the trigger, ready to fire in case that asshole did anything stupid…like hurt Rick.
“Waller said you already caused her enough trouble by advocating for freaks and criminals.” He could hear the squad’s noises and mumbles of disapproval and anger, but he ignored them and continued to discipline Rick.“I’m sure disobeying her orders now will cost you more than your title.” Rick glared at the other man. “I’m in charge here…”

Rick stepped back from the colonel and glanced around at his squad-mates. Despite his determination, he knew he was fighting for a lost cause. He absolutely hated the idea of handing over the lives of his men and friends over to some arrogant, entitled asshole. However, seeing the circumstances, it looked like there was no other option. The possibility of Waller stripping him of his position and handing it over to a more obedient leader, who wouldn’t question her immoral ethics or practices, wasn’t far fetched at all. After all, considering the hassle he’d caused her, Rick could easily see Waller throwing him aside like a disposable tissue. Also, time was running short -- wasting time arguing wasn’t going to save the world.

With a heavy sigh, Rick nodded his head. “Alright sir, what’s your plan?”
“What?” El Diablo asked. “You’re just gonna give up like that?”
“We don’t have time to argue any further.” Everyone in the Suicide Squad could see the failure and disappointment in Rick’s eyes, unexpectedly twisting their own hearts a bit. “Let’s get this mission over with.”
Colonel Mushtaq smiled before addressing everyone on the field. “We’re going to cross Sparang Bridge, move South to cross through South Complex and Robinson Park, and head towards City Hall. Intelligence reports that Onslaughts headquarters are located there. Everyone copy?” While Rick and GQ’s men mumbled a half-assed, “Yes sir,” the Suicide Squad remained silent, instead choosing to glare at their new leader. “Alright! Move out!!!”
Slowly, everyone began to trudge past Mushtaq and towards their destination. While the inmates passed their new leader, they left some ambiguous remarks. Deadshot pointed at Mushtaq, Waylon released a sea-parting snarl, Harley stuck out her tongue, Katana merely glared at the colonel, Chato cracked his knuckles, and Harkness tisked the poor bastard. Rick, who had watched the parting gifts from afar, knew that it wasn’t a good sign… at least, for Mushtaq.

“Hey Star-Spangled Banner.”
Floyd, who had caught up to Rick, handed the colonel the cracked phone. With a nod of gratitude, the (former) leader shoved it back into his pocket before striding alongside the inmate. During the first ten seconds of their walk, the two remained silent. But then-
“Thanks…”
Rick was genuinely surprised by Floyd’s gratitude. He wanted to push further and figure out what the hitman was so grateful for, but instead decided to respond in his traditional way.
“I’m sorry, did Deadshot just say, ‘Thank you?’”
“Don’t make me shoot your ass.” Floyd glanced at Rick and smirked, knowing very well that the colonel was just messing around with him. “So listen, you want me to drop that Steve Rogers wannabe?”
“I thought I was Captain America.”
“There’s a difference between bein’ the real deal and a wannabe.” Rick couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or not. “My offer’s still on the table -- you want me to drop his ass?”
“...Maybe in an hour.”

Chapter Text

(South Complex 20:17)
The entire journey across the Sparang Bridge to South Complex was completely…underwhelming. Seven weeks ago, the Suicide Squad walked through endless trails of rubble, broken glass, shifty black ooze, and upturned cars. When they were in Midtown City, there wasn’t a single corner that hadn’t escaped Enchantress’ wrath. Now, as armed men and women walked cautiously throughout Gotham City, the excitement from the past was yet to be seen. Sure, it was a relief not to have mindless zombies attacking their rears every ten minutes, yet there was something unfulling about just walking through a city that is supposedly being terrorized by superhumans.

“I’m bored,” Harley quietly pouted while carelessly swinging her bat around her shoulders.
“Would you rather have metahumans fryin’ our asses?” Floyd, who was walking beside her, asked.
“If it meant gettin’ some action, then yeah.”
“Cheer up, doll. Consider this an easy way towards privileges -- we don’t have to do shit, and we’ll still get the prizes.”
“What are you going to ask the big man for?”
The hitman went silent as he carefully processed his most fulfilling and relevant wishes for when they complete the mission. In the end, he came up short.
“I ain’t so sure what I want. What about you?”
“I want my own hammock so I can sleep near the sky.”
“Damn, that was actually beauti-”
“Also, so I can use it to hang those stupid guards by their thick necks.”
“There it is…” Floyd paused for a moment. “So…how’d you get caught?”
Harley stopped in her tracks as she reminisced about her painful end of freedom. She did consider telling Floyd about the incident with The Joker, but that would only lead to questions and coddling: the two things she hated…right after Batman.
“That ain’t any of your business, honey.”
Floyd moved to stand directly in front of Harley. “Actually it is,” he gently stated. “You see, if anyone out there hurt  you, then it’ll be my mission to kill ‘em on sight.”
The female inmate snorted. “You sound just like Soldier Boy.”
“Who the hell is-”
“Flag.” The hitman looked surprised at the confession. “He and I had the same ole’ talk, and I’m not gonna repeat myself. You want answers, talk to him.”
Before Floyd could respond, Harley stormed off, her boots leaving a thunderous stomp with each step.

For a few seconds, the hitman’s eyes traveled from Quinn to Rick, who was striding behind Mushtaq like the good soldier he was. Seven weeks ago, the colonel hadn’t taken a liking to Harley at all, mostly because she constantly challenged his authority and played by her own rules. Now, they had somehow formed a connection that, while not necessarily deep and meaningful, united the squad even further. Floyd was impressed with Rick; he had somehow managed to get Harley to reveal a personal, more vulnerable side of herself that nobody else had ever seen. Floyd definitely wasn’t jealous, but he did stand by what he promised: anyone who hurt his squad would pay. Right now, he needed to talk with Rick.

Rick Flag turned his back to see Captain Boomerang flirting with Katana, who looked like she was about to slice the Aussie in half. The colonel couldn’t help but smirk when he saw the assassin reject Harkness in her typical fashion: simply walking past him with an eye roll. Before he could fall back to comfort the seemingly heartbroken robber, he was caught off guard by a hand resting on his shoulder. Instinctively, he pointed his weapon at the accomplice.
“Easy, man!”
Floyd. “God damnit! Give a man some kind of warning!”
The hitman smirked before falling in line with the colonel. “Didn’t realize Red, White, and Blue was so wired. I’ll be sure to notify my people.” A couple of beats. “Heard you talked to Harley earlier.”
“I did.”
“What about?”
“That’s her story to tell, not mine.”
“She’s a part of our squad-”
“It ain’t my squad anymore… it’s Mushtaq’s.”
“Bullshit.” Rick turned to look at Floyd, who wore a determined expression on his face. “That wannabe can lead those other machines. But you and I are leadin’ the gang of misfits.” When Rick moved to protest, the hitman cut him off. “We didn’t come this far as a team only to lose it all to some pansy-ass.”
“Thought that was my title.”
“You’re missin’ the point, Flag. I ain’t losin' my team to Waller and her puppet, and neither should you.”
“If I disobey Waller, then everything I fought was for nothing. Those special privileges will be gone, mission completed or not, if I turn my back on Waller’s demands. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…”
Floyd was speechless -- Rick was willing to sacrifice his authority, and potentially job, if it meant seeing the Suicide Squad get their fair share. This was Rick’s way of still being a part of the team. Floyd wasn’t sure if he should hug the poor bastard or shoot him right in the face for being so…him. So instead, rather than replying with some statement of gratitude or disgust, he simply shook his head.
“Was that a Star Trek reference? If it was, I’m gonna kick you in the ass.”
Rick smirked. “Hey, Zoe got me into the show and-”
“Zoe?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Flag?”
“Her place is a few blocks from where I’m stationed at. While I’m walking home from work, I’d occasionally see her and escort her back to her place. Sometimes, she’d invite me in and-”
“And what?”
Rick didn’t flinch at Floyd’s darkening tone -- it was a father’s instinct to protect their offspring. “-and I’d sometimes help her with her homework, although she’s already smart as hell. If anything, I’m just there for support. I’d help her with her academics, with cleaning up the place, and even just to give her some company.” Floyd had an unreadable expression on his face. “Hey, would you rather have Darnell watching her?”
“Hell no!”
“Good. Originally, I just escorted her back to her place. But soon enough, we ended up just keeping each other company. Besides, considering that I’m a legal adult supervising Zoe, Darnell was no longer a part of the equation. At least, not in Zoe’s.”
“What do you two talk about?”
“Everything an eleven year old is interested in: homework, boys, tv shows, and you.”
“Me?”
“You’re her father, right? How can she not talk about you?”
“Well…what does she say about me?”
“Figured she wrote her feelings in the cards she sends you.” Rick turned to look at Floyd. “Listen, I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. It’s just…Zoe’s a very bright kid, and I don’t want to see someone like her getting hurt of thrown down the wrong path with influences like Darnell. I figured I might as well make sure that she stays the course when you’re not visiting.” A pause. “After this mission, I’ll stop checking in on her.”

Floyd was pissed…but not for the reason any of you may be thinking of. Following the Enchantress operation, Rick’s job was to simply escort Floyd from Belle Reve to the apartment and back. That was it. Instead, the man decided to accompany Zoe on walks, provide her with some companionship, and even remove Darnell from the picture. Rick did all of that, even when he didn’t have to. The colonel went above and beyond the call of duty, and it nearly moved Floyd to tears…and for that, it pissed him off. Underneath his chest armor was a new letter from Zoe that had been written on the day of their departure. It had been neatly placed, undoubtedly by Flag, into the black chest where his gear and weapons were. Floyd had yet to read the letter, but now, after hearing the impact Rick had on Zoe’s daily life, the hitman was more than eager to read the letter.

Floyd needed to move onto a different topic before he became too emotional. “Harley told me to talk to you about her return to Belle Reve. So, fess up.”
Rick, who wasn’t a fan of the quick change in topic, simply sighed in disappointment, but fulfilled Deadshot’s request. “I overheard a couple of guards saying that The Joker pushed her from two stories.” He looked over and saw darkness overcoming Floyd’s usually calm eyes. “He left her in an alleyway and…here she is, now.”
Rick rarely saw Floyd seething. Sure, there have been numerous times when the hitman expressed anger or disapproval, but it was usually in a calm and balanced manner that perfectly masked the rage he truly felt. But this was different…Rick had never seen Floyd outwardly project so much rage. It was actually scary.
“He did what?” The colonel only shook his head, sharing the same amount of disgust and fury. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Well, you’d better hurry before Batman beats you to it.”

“Halt!”
Everyone was forcibly pulled from their thoughts at Colonel Mushtaq’s command. The blonde soldier continued to move forwards while the rest of the unit remained posted where they stood. Rick and GQ glanced at each other before meeting up halfway so they were standing right beside one another.
“What the hell is he doing?” GQ whispered.
“You think I know? Waller withheld information about Mushtaq’s arrival, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s acting on her secret agenda.”
The two soldiers continued to suspiciously eye the colonel, who was glancing around the empty street as if it were some kind of scenic view. Because his back was facing the unit, nobody saw the smirk morphing onto his lips.
“Alright men, move out.”
With slight reluctance, everyone pushed forward down the street. For a few moments, everything was silent -- except the stomping boots hitting the concrete below them. But then-

An explosion from behind the unit erupted the city. Everyone immediately turned and aimed their weapons at the source. However, before they could open fire, another explosive was set off, this time taking out one of the SEALS.
“Everyone find cover!” Rick ordered.
“ENGAGE!!” Mushtaq said.
Everyone who wasn’t Rick or Mushtaq looked at the two colonels, who were both glaring at each other. Eventually, the newcomer spoke up.
“Colonel Flag is no longer in charge of this unit! I am leading this group, and I say open fire!!!”
“We ‘ave no idea what to bloody shoot!!” Captain Boomerang shouted.
“Woah…”
Rick and Floyd turned to Harley, who was staring at the fallen soldier. The faceless man was pinned against a brick wall with a javel sticking from his chest. The javelin was set ablaze, while the main tip, from what Rick could see, had been blown off.
“They’re explosives,” he stated gravely.
As if to prove his theory correct, everyone looked up at the sky to see a javelin airborne. As soon as it connected with a  tower window, it exploded on impact, sending glass and fire erupting from the now ruined window. Killer Croc closed his eyes and sniffed out every single person on sight, trying to identify any different or new smell. Then, right as he was cracking the code, he could hear something… a zipping sound.

Suddenly, one soldier was sent airborne into a car. When everyone turned to the man, they were surprised by another sight.
Standing above the soldier was a shirtless man with long, raven hair. He wore grey sweatpants, a black headband, and black fingerless gloves. In both of his hands was a javelin. Killer Croc used his enhanced sight and, from afar, saw that the tip of the weapon was beeping.
“Engage!” Rick commanded.
In the blink of an eye, the stranger had vanished, but unfortunately the spear had been embedded into the soldier’s skull. After a few beeps, the soldier’s corpse exploded into nothing but flesh, organs, and blood. Harley and Captain Boomerang nearly gagged at the scene.
“There he is!!!” someone shouted.
Everyone turned their heads up to find the target easily scaling an apartment building with his superspeed. “What is this Quicksilver shit?!”  Captain Boomerang shouted.
Everyone opened fire and, obviously, missed. As the stranger catapulted himself from the apartment wall to a car, he threw five other explosive javelins.
“Everyone take cover!!!” Rick ordered.
While Captain Boomerang, Harley, and El Diablo ran towards an alleyway, Katana and Killer Croc sprinted towards a car that had already been set ablaze. Meanwhile, both Rick and GQ’s teams had split up and took positioned behind walls and cars, making sure that they were close enough to hit their target. Floyd, Rick, and GQ opted to hiding behind a car ride in the center of the road. When one spear was heading straight towards Harley and Croc, Captain Boomerang quickly took out his own explosive weapon and threw it at the incoming object, intercepting its main target. When the boomerang and javelin connected in mid air, they both exploded into dust. The three leaders -- Rick, Floyd, and GQ -- all nodded to each other before moving from their cover and firing at the remaining incoming spears, each one of them taking out the deadly weapon before they harmed any of their unit members. 
“Look out!!!”
GQ looked to his side and saw a sharp spear heading straight in his direction. Then, much to everyone’s surprise, he gracefully pushed Rick and Floyd down before somersaulting over the incoming spear. While the weapon ended up hitting an empty store, everyone turned to the SEAL in shock.
“What?” the soldier asked nonchalantly.
“Since when were you an acrobat?” Rick asked. “Or did you just pull that outta your ass?”
GQ simply shrugged his shoulders. “Been an acrobat for a while. Didn’t really think it’d be useful until now.”
“Damn boy,” Floyd chimed in, “you’ve been holdin’ out on us. Any other secret skills you’d like to share with the class?”
The three men looked back at the scene and saw the stranger tossing seven more javelins at breakneck speed. When one spear was heading straight for the SEALS, Katana turned to Killer Croc.
<“Throw me!”> The cannibal merely blinked at the foreign command. “THROW ME!” she demanded in English.
By the time Croc nodded, Katana had already run back a few feet before sprinting towards the beast. Then, when she was close enough, Croc lowered his arms so Katana had a platform to take off from. Once her boots connected with the scaly surface, Croc thrust his arms upwards and watched Katana flip into the air. Then, as if it were nothing, the assassin caught the spear, mid flight, and threw it back at the stranger. As she landed gracefully beside Captain Boomerang, the javelin exploded right beside their attacker, catching him off guard.
“Noice,” Harkness exclaimed, holding his palm up for a high five.
At first, the assassin stared at the Aussie as if he were insane. But then, ever so slowly, she connected her hand with Harkness’. The high five was weak and awkward, but it was something! The Australian bit down a squeal of excitement.
Deadshot stood up onto the car he was using as cover and began to shoot down each spear one by one. Soon enough, all of the armed men and women gained the courage to join the hitman, each one of them taking out spear after spear.
“The hell?” Deadshot began. “Does this guy ever run outta spears?”
Harley took a deep breath and removed herself from her hideout, taking out her massive handgun from its holder. Soon enough, she was also joining the soldiers in taking out the incoming explosives.

When Rick ran out of bullets, he ducked behind the car and moved to reload. However, as he removed the magazine from his pocket, he froze at the sight. Everyone had become so invested in taking out the stranger that they hadn’t noticed a Boeing AH-64 Apache approaching them from behind. While the operator’s face couldn’t be seen, the guns pointing directly at the firing unit were crystal clear. His eyes darted from the helicopter to Floyd, who was in the line of fire.
“EVERYONE GET DOWN!!!”
The entire unit was hit by an hailstorm of bullets, some of them instantly killing military men. Captain Boomerang quickly grabbed Katana pulled her the rest of the way into the alley. Members who hid behind cars abandoned their post and instead sprinted towards the next empty alleyway. Meanwhile, Rick snatched Floyd from on top of the car and threw him onto the pavement. The duo quickly crawled towards the other side of the vehicle they were behind.
“Now would be a good time to spring up that shield of yours, Cap!” Floyd shouted over the monsoon of bullets.
To the hitman’s surprise, Rick didn’t respond with some snarky or harsh remark. Hell, he didn’t even bark any orders as to what the next step should be. Instead, he sat against the car, directing his gaze towards the wet pavement below them. He remained almost oblivious to the bullets ricocheting around them. Before Floyd could investigate Rick’s behavior-
“Oi, Pink Eye!!!”
Deadshot turned to Boomerang, who waved another explosive boomerang in the air. Immediately putting two-and-two together, the hitman turned to address the remaining unit members.
“Give me coverin' fire!!”

Everyone except for Rick, who remained on the floor, provided the hitman with some distraction. The pyrokinetic conjured up flames and shot them into the air, right in the pilot’s line of view. As soon as the helicopter stopped firing down, Captain Boomerang set off his weapon and tossed it, with all of his force, at the pilot’s seat. Once it was close enough, Deadshot perfectly shot ten bullets at the charged weapon. Once his bullets connected with the boomerang, they both exploded directly in front of the helicopter. Deadshot could see that their plan had been successful, for the aircraft began to lose control and head down towards the street. The helicopter crashed onto the pavement and did a couple of barrel rolls towards the unit. Then, like a cartoon show, it came to a stop just inches away from where Deadshot and Rick were located in the center of the road. For a few seconds, everyone remained silent and opted to stare at the ruined helicopter. Then, after shaking off the initial shock, Deadshot and the SEALS raised their weapons and walked over towards the pilot’s seat. Behind the broken and burnt glass was a man whose face had been blown off by the explosive.
“Yikes,” Harley said as she moved towards the wreckage, “talk about a facelift…”
Colonel Mushtaq was, at first, completely silent. He wore an unreadable expression that neither showed happiness nor pity at the deceased man. In fact, the only emotion that could’ve been detected was anger…
“Good job, men. Now, we move out! We’re halfway to City Hall.”
“What about the acrobatic javelin thrower?” El Diablo asked.
“He must’ve vanished during the ambush. Just keep your guards on. Move out!”
Everyone nodded their heads before advancing towards their destination. This time, however, their senses were on alert.

Floyd, who was the last one in line, stopped when he saw Rick still sitting against the car.
“Hey there,” he began as he knelt down in front of the colonel, “Earth to Captain America.”
“Wh-What?”
Floyd snapped his fingers directly in front of Rick’s face. “Nap time’s over. We gotta move out.”
“Okay.”
Despite turning around, from the corner of his eyes, Floyd could see the colonel struggling with standing up. Rick heavily leaned against the upturned vehicle and even hissed.
“You okay?”
Rick snapped his gaze to Floyd . “Yeah, but I dropped Waller’s phone. I’ll find it and meet up with y’all in a second.”
The hitman’s eyes narrowed. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Go before Mushtaq gets his ass in a bunch again.”
For a few moments, Floyd just stood in front of Rick, not fully believing the colonel’s statement. However, knowing very well that Rick’s pride would prevent him from revealing any possible issues, he merely patted Rick’s shoulder before moving to catch up with the squad.

Alone at last, Rick allowed himself to tend to the burning pain in his right abdomen. He slid his right hand underneath his bulletproof vest and placed it over the source of pain. However, he immediately retracted it when he felt something wet, warm, and sticky cover his entire palm. Examining his hand, he discovered that it was completely coated in blood…his blood.

Chapter Text

(Robinson Park 21:58)
Following the ambush, nobody complained about boredom or a lack of excitement. Everyone, even members of the Suicide Squad, were on edge -- a single sound prompted half of the unit to automatically train their guns at the source, only to deflate when they realized it was just a piece of paper blowing in the wind. Their first encounter with a metahuman -- who, although not Superman himself, still possess speed and agility far more advanced than anything they’d ever seen -- made them paranoid and more sharp. Rick, however, was the exception.

During previous operations, Rick’s external senses would perform at its best, detecting sights and sounds others would miss. His eyes would never rest in a single location for long, but rather dart from one location to the next as the picked up the slightest movement. He’d have the hearing of a moth -- every crunch, drip, inhale, or breeze was amplified in his mind. When Rick was at the top of his game, he was almost superhuman. Now, after the ambush, things were much different.

After getting shot, the colonel’s mind was completely invested in keeping himself upright and conscious. However, as a result, his external senses dimmed exponentially. Outside sounds became silenced by his own ragged breaths and thunderous heartbeats, which were now moving at an uneven tempo. The pain from the wound, as well as the bullet or shrapnel shifting around in his body, distracted Rick from the battlefield around him. Even the blood loss, which was already beginning to take its toll, badly affected his ability to concentrate. Unlike the usual Rick Flag, this one was removed from the operation and instead locked inside his own pain.

Rick was so focused on moving that he hadn’t noticed an upturned car placed directly in front of his path. Before he could walk straight into the vehicle, a scaley hand firmly smacked itself against the colonel’s chest, effectively stopping the human dead in his tracks. The action removed Rick from his stupor, allowing to finally acknowledge Waylon’s presence. As the cannibal removed his hand from the colonel’s chest, his captivating eyes scanned the human suspiciously.  
“Blood,” Waylon stated.
“Wh-What are you talking about?”
The beast ignored Rick’s question and proceeded to bend down towards his hip, where crimson red began to seep through a tiny portion of his shirt. When Waylon began to sniff at the blood, Rick inched away from him.
“Stop that!”
“You’re bleeding,” Waylon growled as he stood back to his normal height.
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, I see.” The cannibal didn’t look amused. “It’s nothing,” Rick stated more seriously. “Just a scratch.”
“Scratches don’t bleed that much -- trust me on that.”
From the corner of his eyes, Rick could see Killer Croc staring down at his feet. The colonel followed his teammate’s gaze and discovered that he had been limping the entire walk. It was a very noticeable limp that, surprisingly, only Waylon caught. Refusing to draw more unwanted attention to himself, Rick forced himself to straighten his posture and even out his movements. While externally he looked more like his normal self, his insides were screaming in agony. The pain in his hip amplified, now increasing to an almost burning sensation. His heartbeats became more erratic while his breaths were more strained. Still, despite the pain, he continued to appear perfectly normal. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that Waylon’s senses were abnormal, meaning that he could hear and smell the struggle his body was enduring.
“You’re a very fragile man. All humans are fragile.”
“You’re human too.”
“I was. Now, I’m a beast.” Killer Croc eyed Rick, who forced himself to look back at the endless road. “I could carry you, little man.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a liar, and I don’t like liars.”

For some odd reason, Rick felt a tinge of guilt hit him. He honestly felt bad for lying to someone who was only concerned about him. Ever since June broke up with him, he didn’t really have anyone who cared about his existence, let alone well-being. He should be seizing the day -- or night -- and allow his squadmates the assist him. However, as his heart grew fonder of the idea, Waller and Mushtaq’s presence began to weigh down even harder on his shoulders. He couldn’t afford to let his injury slow down the operation. There was just too much at stake -- his career and reputation, the Suicide Squad’s privileges, and most importantly, the lives of the entire unit.

“Trust me, I’ve received worse wounds in the hands of worser people. I’m fine.”
Killer Croc did not look convinced, not in the slightest bit. But, as he’s witnessed numerous times, man’s pride always outweighs his intelligence. He knew very well that Rick would never allow someone to help him, and all because of his masculine pride.
“Fine,” he growled. “Just don’t go fainting on us. I ain’t carrying you then.”
Rick shrugged his shoulders as he moved past the cannibal, away from the questions and fears.

GQ and Floyd were walking alongside each other in silence. Despite their seemingly different personalities, both of their minds were focused on the same topic: Colonel Mushtaq.
“Hey, you got a minute? Floyd quietly asked as the group continued to push forward. “It’s about Mushtaq: I don’t like that guy.”
“Get in line,” GQ mumbled back, trying to remain as discreet as possible.
“He’s up to somethin’, and we gotta figure out what it is before it’s too late.”
For a few moments, Edwards and Lawton fell silent and began to conjure up numerous ideas that would overthrow Mushtaq’s authority and bring Rick back into power. Finally, GQ spoke up.
“Alright, I have an idea, but it’s only going to work if everyone’s on board. We need the Suicide Squad on our side if we’re going to overthrow this guy. While I gather intel on Mushtaq, you need to convince the squad and Rick to retaliate against the colonel when the time is right. Once he loses his entire unit, he’ll be forced to step down and let Rick back into power. A man is powerless without his resources, which include followers.”
“How the hell are you gonna find dirt on this guy?”
“I have a few powerful friends who can extract all of his dirty secrets in less than ten minutes.”
“And what about your men? No offense, but they don’t seem like the rebellious type. They’re more ass-kissers.”
“Give me a few minutes, and you’ll have my men ready to follow Rick in a heartbeat.” Floyd didn’t looked convinced. “They’re still able to think freely, Lawton. My men know right from wrong, and will be more than happy to disobey someone who forces them to compromise their values. Besides,” GQ added, “they’re already playing favorites. Rick’s in the lead and, with a little push from yours truly, he’ll be back in command.”
Floyd was genuinely surprised by GQ’s plan, intelligence, and confidence. “How does an awkward, weak-ass soldier suddenly become some cocky detective with shady allies and acrobatic skills?” Edwards shrugged his shoulders with a proud smirk written on his face. “Damn; next thing I know, you’re gonna be some kind of martial arts expert.” When GQ smiled, Floyd’s eyes widened while his jaw almost hit the floor. “You’re shittin’ me, right? Twinkle toes is a ninja too?”
“I’ve mastered brazilian jiu-jitsu, sambo, karate, muay thai, judo, wing chun, jeet kune do, shaolin kung-fu, ninjitsu, and capoeira. However, I excel at aikido.”
The hitman merely blinked.“Remind me to never piss you off. You’ve been holdin’ out on us, huh?”
“If I told you every secret, then it’d kinda ruin this bad-boy reputation you’ve got going for me, which I’m actually kinda liking.”
“Seriously though, what’s your secret? Got some genie underneath that cap? Did you sell your soul to the devil? How are you doin’ all of this?”
GQ smiled to himself. “I just had a good a teacher. Well, except for the interpersonal skills and the ability to work with others. That’s all me.”
Floyd wanted to respond to GQ’s remark, but instead moved onto a different topic that’d been occupying his mind since he saw GQ’s acrobatic stunt during the ambush. “I still can’t believe a pansy-ass like yourself flipped over a spear like it was the Olympics. Zoe would’ve gotten a kick outta that.”
“Why’s that?”
“When she was a little baby, I’d take her to Haly’s Circus to watch the performances.” For a brief moment, GQ’s heart skipped a beat. “She wasn’t interested in those freaky-ass clowns or borin’ jugglers. Naw, she was all about The Flying Graysons. Whenever they were in the ring, she’d always squeal and reach her chubby hands towards them, hopin’ that they’d lift her up to the stars.” Floyd was so invested in his memoirs that he missed GQ’s own look of nostalgia and sadness. “Even as she got older, she always loved the Graysons. It’s a shame about what happened to that kid’s parents. Can’t imagine what it’d feel like to watch your own parents die right in front of you.” The SEAL pulled his gaze to the black road beneath his feet, blinking back a tear that teetered on his right eye. “Sorry if I’m gettin’ all sappy on you, man. It’s just…seein’ you perform that stunt reminded me of my time with Zoe at Haly’s, back when the world made a little more sense.”
“Let’s be honest,” GQ began while composing himself, “the world never really made any sense.”
“I guess you're right. Alright, let’s do this.”
Floyd began to pick up the pace, moving past the SEAL and heading towards Captain Boomerang, Katana, and El Diablo. However, before he actually engaged with the other inmates, he turned back to GQ.
“You should perform at Haly’s,” he stated. “The place could use a throw back.”
GQ felt another smile growing. “Yeah…maybe I will.”   

El Diablo watched Katana shut down Captain Boomerang’s offer at attending a “barbie” together. As the assassin stormed off towards Floyd, who was motioning her to him with his eyes, the Latino patted the discouraged Aussie on the back.
“You doing it wrong, homie. You gotta treat her with respect.”
“Damn that politically correct bullshit.”
“Listen, women ain’t submissive dumbasses used for sexual objectification -- least not anymore. Stop treatin’ ‘em like they are, and maybe then you’ll get some.”
“I know…” Boomerang shook his head. “It’s just… I ‘aven’t been this in love since I first saw Pinky.”
El Diablo cringed at the thought of a full-grown man getting it on with a stuffed unicorn. “I hate to break this to you, homie, but Katana ain’t a stuffed unicorn.”
“She won’t even let me talk to ‘er.”
“She’s not much of a talker to begin with.” The former gang leader shrugged his shoulders. “Look, just get to know her a bit -- start with the basic shit like favorite books, movies, colors, or whatever -- before movin’ towards the deep shit.” Then, as if on cue, Katana began to walk towards the duo. “She’s comin’, man. Keep in mind what I told you, and she’ll be yours, homie.”
When the assassin arrived beside El Diablo and Captain Boomerang, she could instantly tell that the Aussie had some remark on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be released. “Hello dollface,” Harkness began, much to El Diablo’s annoyance. “Listen ‘ere, I’m sorry if we got on the wrong foot. Let’s start over: my name is George 'Digger' Harkness, but you can call me Captain Boomerang.”
Katana merely blinked at his unexpected change in attitude. However, she didn’t necessarily outright reject him -- she neither walked away nor unsheathed her sword. It was a win in Harkness’ book.
“I need to talk to you,” she stated seriously.
“Maybe we should do this in pri-”
“Both of you,” she clarified, nodding her head towards El Diablo.
“Oh,” the Aussie said in disappointment.
Katana took note on the drastic drop in optimism and joy in Boomerang’s tone. As she inspected the Australian’s face closely, she could see genuine sadness and disappointment in his eyes. Then, for some bizarre reason, the assassin felt pity and guilt nudge at her. She didn’t understand why she was suddenly feeling sympathy for the robber, but she did…and it caused her to do something she’s rarely done with the Suicide Squad: open up.
“My real name is Tatsu Yamashiro.”
The two men snapped their heads to the assassin, who ducked her own down to stare at the ground. El Diablo nugged Boomerang, who was still astonished by Katana’s unexpected act. Inspired, the Aussie smirked, once again revealing a silver tooth.
“Well, that’s somethin’,” he stated. “It’s a pleasure to meet ya, Tatsu.”
Then, for the very first time, Katana smiled. It wasn’t anything grand or remarkable, but to Boomerang, it was more beautiful than Pinky herself. He was so blindsided by Katana’s remark, as well as smile, that the first thing that came out was-
“HAHA!! I knew you had a soul!”
Katana and El Diablo merely stared at each other, both slightly disappointed that the potentially beautiful moment was spoiled. Wanting to spare Captain Boomerang from a sword to the throat, El Diablo moved onto a different topic.
“What was it you wanted to talk about?”
In the blink of an eye, Katana morphed back into the serious assassin she was. “Floyd and GQ have a plan.”
“What about?” Harkness asked.
“Mushtaq and Rick.”
Glancing around to make sure no outsider was nearby, Katana filled in the two men on the plan to start a rebellion.

Rick’s vision began to swim. Details of the ruined streets of Gotham began to unfocus, morphing into unidentifiable blurs of colors and fuzzy shapes. He could feel his right side growing numb, except the bullet wound that continued to stand as a constant reminder of his idiocracy. He just needed to close his eyes. Just for one-
“Here you go, hun.”
The colonel’s external senses immediately sharpened when he felt a soft package being pushed against his chest. Rick turned to the source of the gift, which happened to be Harley, before looking back down at the object. When he identified what the items were, he felt himself turn red with embarrassment.
“Tampons?”
“I’m sorry, would you prefer pads?” Harley asked as she revealed another set of packaged products.
“Where the hell did you get these?”
“Over there.”
Rick looked around Harley’s shoulder to find that a pharmacy’s windows had been completely smashed. The ruined facility contrasted the overall clean street, meaning that the break-in was fairly recent. Rick looked at Harley, who was spinning her bat around playfully.
“Harley-”
“What was I supposed to do? Knock and be polite?”
“Why’d you give me these?”
“Honey, you’re bleedin’ out like a slaughtered pig.”
Rick allowed himself to look down at his hip, only to find that more blood had been soaked through his shirt. While it wasn’t enough to get people’s attention, it was still more noticeable than before. Suddenly, his vision began to darkened again while his entire body began to feel more lighter than usual. Before he could stumble backwards, he felt a sharp pain appear on his right cheek.
“OW!” he exclaimed as he brought his hand to cover the red handprint forming on his face. “The hell was that for?!”
“You were lookin' a bit sleepy. I'm pretty sure big boy over there," Harley answered as she pointed at Mushtaq, "wouldn't like that."
“You didn’t have to hit me!”
“You’re right… I should’ve kicked you.”
Rick rolled his eyes before addressing the main thing occupying his mind. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he began as he pointed to the wound. “If word gets out, then I’ll be discharged-”
“So?”
“-and y’all will lose all of those extra special privileges.”
Harley was astonished by Rick’s selflessness and kindness, but she wasn’t necessarily convinced that it was completely genuine. “Why are you bein’ so nice to us?”
“Haven’t I always?”
“No.”
“People change, can’t they?”
“That’s the problem: people can change, even when others don’t want ‘em to. Who’s to say that you won’t suddenly turn your back on all of us once the job gets done?” Harley asked as she spun her bat around in her palm. “You’d be surprised to see just how quickly someone can stab you in the back.”

Rick was about to reply with another snarky remark, but then his brain clicked. Harley’s inability to accept Rick’s loyalty was built by her own experiences with The Joker. For who knows how long, she had been following (and loving) a man who continually manipulated and hurt her in order to get what he wanted until he saw no more use of her. He tricked her with promises of love and loyalty, and instead provided her with abuse and abandonment. Those situations were scarring and permanent. Nobody fully recovers from something like that, not even Harley Quinn. With a sigh, Rick repositioned himself so that he was standing directly across Harley. He stared deeply into her eyes with the hopes that his upcoming message would be loud and clear.

“I ain’t Waller or The Joker.” Harley’s eyes momentarily hardened at the sound of her puddin’s name. “I don’t abandon those who pledge their loyalty and dedication to me. I don’t take anyone or anything for granted unless they do something completely unprincipled or immoral. I’m loyal to those who are loyal to me, plain and simple.” He could see that he was reaching Harley, so he pushed forward. “Like I said earlier, I won’t leave any of you hanging.”
“Pinky promise?” Harley asked as she extended her limb towards Rick’s face.
The colonel nodded before intertwining his own pinky with hers. “Pinky promise.”

When their limbs detached from one another, the duo nodded before making their way towards the group, who had gained some ground during their conversation. Harley would never admit this out loud, but she was absolutely comforted by the conversation, for it stood as a reminder that she may not be completely alone after all. Realizing that she was getting emotional, she decided to mask her true emotions with-
“Aw, you care about us! That’s so cute!!”
From the corner of her eyes, she could see Rick struggling with keeping his composure. He was getting paler, while beads of sweat began to appear on his brow. Realizing that the wound was affecting Rick, Harley ran back to the pharmacy and leaped through the broken window like an acrobat. After a few scuffles and crashes, the inmate emerged from the store with another gift. She ran back to Rick and presses the item against his chest. At first, the colonel was surprised by the action, causing him to jolt back into full awareness. Once he examined the gift he’d been given, he couldn’t help but smirk.
“Thanks Harley.”
“Wouldn’t wanna lose my favorite Soldier Boy. I’ll distract the guards while you do your thing.”
“Wait, how and I going to do that without gaining attention? I’ll need-”
Rick’s sentence was cut off by a slim finger pressing itself against his lips. Harley winked at the colonel before skipping off towards another building much farther away from Rick. With a graceful twirl, she raised the metal bat into the air before slamming the tip against the window of an empty liquor store.

While everyone else immediately trained their eyes and weapons at Harley, Rick used the opportunity to hastily tend to his wound, to the best of his ability, with the first aid kit that was given to him. He focused on just patching the wound -- forget cleaning it, he just needed to stop losing so much blood. As he was quickly (and rather sloppily) closed the wound with shaky hands and blurry vision, he could hear arguments growing between the Suicide Squad and Mushtaq. He allowed himself to look towards the scene and noted that his own men, as well as GQ’s, opted to remain silent, neither defending nor criticizing the squad’s small uprising. Rick smiled to himself: Mushtaq had lost control over his unit. Knowing very well that Deadshot and GQ could handle the situation, the colonel directed his attention back to his wound.

Unfortunately, he was so invested in trying to patch himself up that he didn’t notice Deadshot watching him from afar.

Chapter Text

Hey everyone!!

I wanted to give you all a quick explanation as to why I haven't updated this story since September.

I recently moved to New York City in order to conduct an independent project that will transition to my senior thesis next year. The process of moving, as well as organizing my financial and academic schedules, has taken up a lot of time :/ While I wanted to update this story during the transitional period, I decided against it because when I write, I want ALL of my attention on the story. I do not want to rush the story or write something sloppy: I'm beyond grateful to have supporters like yourselves, and you all deserve to receive updates that have as much love as you all have given me :0)

I am also writing an X-Men story entitled "The Same Eyes in Different People." It's a story that I am working extremely hard on, so I have been devoting time towards updating that story to those who follow it.

This all said, I'm finally getting into the swing of things and plan on updating this story as soon as possible :) I already have EVERYTHING laid out, now all I have to do is actually write the dialogues. I'm beyond excited to continue this story, and I hope that you all can forgive me for my tardiness and absence.

Take Care and Party Hard,

RogersBz14 :0)