Squad Stories: Seeking Answers 2/2

It had been a long-time coming. Nearly quest-like in its intensity, and three long years in the making. After the incident, and with the help of a few like-minded maniacs, Michael Patten had managed to evade The Question in the New Mexico desert after a breakneck chase that stole an entire year from both their lives.

 

After that, the evasion in Hub City. It had been foolish to hide there, they both knew it. But It was Patten’s hope that the philosophy of “hide in plain sight” would apply, and thus shield him from The Question’s prying eyes. This however, was not the case.

 

And after another year of searching, it seemed the chase was finally over.

 

The Answer sits in his chair, listening to the nearly inaudible footsteps of his nemesis pad up the stairs. Until he gets to the final step. The Answer spins around, and brandishes a revolver in The Question’s direction.

 

Answer: BANG, BITCH!

 

Question: Clearly, the weapon isn’t loaded.

 

Answer: Clearly!

 

He points the gun to his own head and casually pulls the trigger. A shot rings out, but the force of the blast forces the gun back just enough so that the bullet only grazes The Answer’s head. His hair, peeking through the new tear in the mask, sizzles slightly.

 

Answer: Well whaddya know, little baby still had a slug left in her.

 

Question: One in the chamber.

 

Answer: Hold on one bullet-riddled minute, you knew! You just tried to get me to kill myself you faceless freak! Ah well, bygones be bygones. What’s a bullet between old friends.

 

He motions to a small, plastic chair in the corner of the room.

 

Answer: By all means, have a seat. Let us converse eloquently our mutual distaste for each other’s personages and how the hell you finally found me.

 

Question remains standing: I would explain to you my thought process, but who’s to say you’ll grasp it.

 

Answer: Hey you know me, the amputee village idiot. Can’t grasp anything.

 

Question: If you really want to know, it wasn’t even all that difficult. After you fled Hub City. I started searching for your presence online. This seemed like a mistake at first, until Belle Reve went up in a puff of posies. I had tried to hack into the system earlier, in an attempt to learn the truth about Task Force X, and was greeted by an . . . interesting signature in the code.

 

Answer yawns under his mask and slumps down into his chair.

 

Answer: Three years of rivalry, and it all comes down to this; Monologuing. Get to the point, Q-Tip.

 

Question: I was, just now. When Belle Reve went under, I knew from digging in the right places that Amanda Waller had purchased Alcatraz for reasons unknown. I simply tried to hack into Alcatraz’s mainframe, and was greeted by the exact same code signature. Your code signature.

 

Answer mockingly raises his hands in the air: You got me sheriff, looks like it’s the hangin’ tree for me.

 

Question: Heh. You and I both know only The Freemasons hang criminals still.

 

Answer: Well, them and the cabal of Chucky Cheese.

 

Question shudders at the name.

 

Answer lowers his hands: So uh, did you hear the government is being run by reptile-men?

 

Question scoffs: Please, the ‘lizard-men-rule-the world’ cliché is as old as Doctor Fate.

 

Answer: No, no, not the world, just America. And they’re not lizards, they’re snakes.

 

Question thinks for a moment: Ah. Yes. Now I see what you mean. Hurm.

 

Answer: Gives you a lot to think about, doesn’t it?

 

Question: It does, but it’s something that’s going to have to wait. I didn’t come here to chat, Michael, I came to take you in.

 

Answer laughs uproariously: You can’t be serious, Q, I’m a government agent. Not only that, I’m a government agent who doesn’t officially exist. I’m literally a conspiracy now. And you’re just going to pop in here, drag me by my ankles all the way to Gotham City, then whitlseblow this entire, and might I add, official, government operation?

 

Question: You forgot the long list of drug-related felonies, not to mention the event that started this little game of tag.

 

Answer: I forget nothing! Except for the parts the drugs blacked out. Regardless, you’ll have to take it up with the manager, sir, I just work here.

 

He smashes a button on the console. If either if their eyes could be seen, contact would have never been broken.

 

Question: You’re just stalling for time now, Patten. We’ve had a good run, but all things, even the eternal Amazonian flame that’s held in the Statue Of Liberty’s torch, must end.

 

Answer: . . . If it’s eternal, how’s it supposed to end?

 

Question, frustrated: Someone’s just going to have to put it out. Now, are you coming quietly?

 

Answer: No, and neither is she.

 

The broad, imposing shape of Amanda Waller fills the doorway. Her hands are clasped behind her back, and her mouth is clasped in a scowl.

 

Waller: Patten, nobody gave you permission for this playdate. Or is this a relative?

 

Question chuckles: Ah, Mrs. Waller. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.

 

Waller: The Question, I presume. I’m sure the pleasure is all yours.

 

Question: I’m actually quite glad I get to speak to you. I have some inquiries to make about a certain “Suicide Squad.”

 

Waller: Task Force X, as you know, were all killed in a freak accident that also took the lives of many officers and priso-

 

Question: Yes, yes. I’m sure you’re the direct source the reporters and news outlets acquired that little soundbite from, but we both know there’s more to it, don’t we.

 

Waller: Oh do we?

 

Question: We do. We both know that Task Force X was merely a cover for the real “Suicide Squad” which had supposedly gone dark after the Cloudburst Incident. That The Task Force fought fabricated threats while the real Suicide Squad carried out confidential missions. It was they who rescued Jack Ryder in Bialya. Who stopped the Pentagram murders. Digger Harkness was the one to assassinate Thayer Jost, who did indeed die of his wounds, despite what the official reports indicated. All of which, was enacted under your orders. The government’s orders.

 

Waller: Bold of you to assume what I know, without assuming it expands to you as well.

 

Question chuckles: As if you could find anything about me.

 

Waller: I don’t even have to look. I just have to turn to channel four at ten o’clock PM central time and catch an episode of Black and White World to know everything about you.

 

Answer: OOOOOOOO!!

 

Question: Wh-what are you insinuating, Mrs. Waller?

 

Waller: I’m insinuating that even if you could prove these crackpot theories and blew the lid off of these so-called “truths”, I’d have a lid of my own to blow off, and it’s one that would ruin your entire “man of mystery” schtick. So I’d tread carefully if I were you, Mister Sage.

 

At that, Answer gasps dramatically. Question stands still for a minute, stroking his chin, weighing his options.

 

Question: Fine. But should your operations get too egregious, I am ready and willing to sacrifice my identity in the name of the truth.

 

Answer: And that’s what makes you boring, Vicky boy. Now get outta here before I decide to use your hat as a spittoon, or my charming boss locks you in with our less-charming wards.

 

Question and Answer lock theoretical eyes once again, and without another word, the Question stalks back out the way he came.

 

Waller: I assume he’ll find his own way out.

 

Answer: Oh yes, he’s a smart cookie, that one. Whatever the hell that means. Ever wonder what dumbass cookies a “smart cookie” is being compared to?

 

Amanda Waller sighs. She has other things she could be doing.

 

Waller: Not particularly. Your rivalry with our . . . odorous friend has gone back a ways. I figured you’d want this final victorious moment for yourself.

 

Answer: Oh I did, the problem is I had absolutely nothing to leverage over him. I just assumed you did, and boy howdy did you deliver.

 

Waller: You mean all this time you didn’t even know who he was?

 

Answer: Of course not, he’s got no fucken face!

 

Waller: Well now he does, and you can view it every night on television or any time you wish on YouTube. Now if you’ll excuse me—

 

Disgruntled, Amanda Waller exits the room to return to her paperwork.

 

Answer, in turn, returns to his monitors and screens, lifting his mask and cracking open a brand new can of beer.

 

Answer: YouTube. Ha! No wonder the little ginger bastard couldn’t find me. His face is plastered all over the internet, and I haven’t even got a social security number!

 

Cheerfully, Michael Patten returns to the cold white embrace of the internet, seeking questions that have yet to be answered.

 

Done