Squad Stories The Return 2/3

Belle Reve penitentiary, a beautiful dream in-name only: Not the only prison for metahuman criminals, but certainly the one with the most powerful prisoners. The white collars go to Stryker’s Island, the blue collars to Blackgate, the crazies to Arkham, and the super-powered to Belle-Reve.

 

A helicopter lands. Director Amanda Waller exits with George ‘Digger’ Harkness in tow. They head towards the main entrance door and make their way inside.

 

It’s raining.

 

Digger: So, Waller, me ole Sheila, of all the stick-throwin, bank-robbin’ Layabouts out there in the world, why’d ye come crawlin’ back to me, eh? Finally realize I’m the best there is at what I do?

 

Waller: What you do, Harkness, is exactly that. You throw sticks. Somehow though those sticks keep you alive. Either that or plain stupid luck.

 

Digger: Little of this, little of that.

 

Waller: But no. I came back to you because, and savor this moment, Boomerbutt, because I’ll never say this again, time and time again you’ve come through. Despite the fact you throw sticks at a man who runs faster than the speed of sound, you’ve proven yourself to be a reliable asset, and that’s what I need. Reliable.

 

Digger: Aw, ‘Manda. Y’makin’ me blush.

 

Waller: Don’t feel too proud, you’re not the only operative who’s getting star-billing. I’m putting my trust in them, and I’m putting my trust in you, Digger. That’s a rare occurrence. Do not let me down.

 

Digger, lighting up a cigarette: And what if I do eh?

 

Waller, taking it from him and putting it out: I’ll shoot you myself. Also there’s no smoking in this facility.

 

Digger: Very well. So who else is getting’ star treatment?

 

Waller escorts Digger through nearby door marked, appropriately, DIRECTOR WALLER. Inside is King Faraday and Floyd Lawton, discussing the mechanics of Faraday’s standard-issue sidearm that he’s had custom-plated with gold crowns. They’re both smoking.

 

Floyd: Hm. Hello, Digger.

 

Digger: Now ‘old on! How come they get to smoke?

 

Waller, offhandedly: They’ve earned the privilege.

 

Digger: And why haven’t I?

 

Floyd: Because you’re obnoxious about it.

 

Floyd stands up, and Digger approaches him.

 

Digger: Now Floyd ole boy, I may’ve been hit in the bean durin’ that whole Society barney, but I still remember we developed a bit o’ bad blood ‘tween us. That still the case?

 

Floyd: I can keep it civil if you can. This is business, so was that. Business where I got to shoot Merlyn four times. It’s behind us. I think we can agree on that.

 

Digger: Aye mate, that we can.

 

They shake hands.

 

Waller, kind of snidely: Good, now that you’re friends, let me lay out the law here. You two, along with a select few others, are, god help me, going to lead this new Squad. I’ve chosen you two because, in Floyd’s case, he has an excellent track record, and has proven capable in the field time and time again. I’ve chosen you, Digger, because I’m out of options. I need operatives I can trust. Katana’s defected, and gone to run with some new team Batman’s stitched together. Flag is otherwise occupied, Croc was never in the running, and Enchantress is right where I’m leaving her.

 

Digger: I thought Enchantress was sucked into some sorta hell dimension and died.

 

Waller: You’re half right, but also half not. She’s not our concern right now.

 

Floyd: I almost hate to ask this, but what about Quinn.

 

Waller: I’ll admit, her I considered, but she’s proven hard to track down. Now, what I need this Squad to rely on, is secrecy. More so than ever, we are off the books. In fact, most of the upper-branches of our own government don’t know we’re operational. Our entire existence is on a need-to-know basis, and that’s how it’s going to stay.

 

*she picks up a remote, hits a button, and the nearby wall slides up to reveal a window overlooking a wide hangar. A seemingly-unconscious T. Rex lays strapped to a giant gurney. Four figures walk away from the Rex and towards a stairwell leading up to the control room Waller and co. are in*

 

Waller: As far as the world is concerned, those four people coming up the stairs to meet us, for all intents and purposes ARE the Suicide Squad.

 

The four enter. It is of course, Colonel Rick Flag, followed by Doctors Karin Grace, Jess Bright and Hugh Evans. There is polite acknowledgement all around. Flag shakes Faraday’s hand, and nods to Floyd. He doesn’t look at Digger. Digger whistles softly in Karin’s direction.

 

Digger: Hel-lo, Doc.

 

Karin shoots him a dirty look.

 

Flag: Aman- ahem. Director Waller. When you have the time, I want to have a word with you about the way this operation is being planned and run. It seems to me like there’s a lot of dead weight, and most of what my team and I do are unnecessa-

 

Waller: Flag, not now. You know your duty, you know your assignments, and you know how I operate. This isn’t up for debate. *She turns to Digger and Floyd* Flag and company here are, essentially, a diversion. A tactic to throw attention off of your operations. Task Force X here, handles what the government deems ‘extranormal threats’ when there’s no heroes around to take care of it themselves. They’ll go around, guns-a-blazing and slaying monsters, soaking up the press attention. To the outside world they are The Suicide Squad, and you don’t exist. Every mission you undertake, they’ll be there to put on a show above you.

 

Digger: So they’re the fireworks at a picnic and we’re –

 

Floyd, extinguishing his fourteenth smoke of the day: Ants making away with crumbs.

 

Waller: If that’s how you want to look at it, yes. Colonel, you and your team are dismissed.

 

Flag salutes, and leads Task Force X out of the room and down the stairs.

 

Digger: Balls o’ brass, that one.

 

Floyd: He’s cheerful these days, ain’t he.

 

Waller: I think he’s slowly starting to realize his entire career has been one long stage production. Now you two, there’s empty bunks in the guards’ quarters. Murph downstairs will be happy to show you the way. If you’ll excuse me, I have another operative to check up on.

 

Done