by Marv Wolfman
Deadshot glared at the colonel. “This whole mission just sucks. I’d be better off back in Belle Reve, serving twenty. Least they’d tell me what I was supposed to do.”
“That can be arranged,” Flag replied. “And by the way, who says we’d let you go back? Detonator, remember?”
“Bite me,” Deadshot said. “This guy better cure cancer after all this.” Flag gave him a twisted smile then headed through the vault door.
FORTY-EIGHT
The room was filled with computers and monitors. A block-by-block satellite view of downtown Midway was displayed across a dozen screens. One showed GQ’s SEALs scurrying across the roof.
Big Brother was watching, and for once Flag was glad of it.
Amanda Waller was sitting at the comm, impatient as always, staring at him. He could tell she was going to complain. She always did, but he’d learned years ago to tune out most of what she babbled.
“About time, Flag,” she said. “I’ve been monitoring your progress. There were at least a dozen ways you could have gotten to me faster.”
“Yeah, feel free to write me up after I get you back home, maybe even in one piece. You ready?”
“I’ve been ready ever since this began.”
“So why are we waiting?”
She stood up and took a last look at the room into which she had sealed herself to protect her from the inhuman hordes. A.R.G.U.S. techs still manned the computers, keeping track of EA interference. Flag saw his Suicide Squad on one of the larger screens, waiting at the vault as instructed. Maybe they were capable of following some orders after all. Especially those that instructed them to do nothing.
“You wouldn’t have made it without them,” Waller said. She nodded toward the screen. Flag gave her a Yeah, so what? look.
“We got lucky,” he responded, “and I don’t do luck. I do planning and precision.”
She scooped up important papers and stuffed them in her shoulder bag. “Admit it, Rick. I was right.”
“We can agree to disagree on that. I told you to get on the damn truck with me, but you said no. Then, with the infestation, you got yourself trapped here, and we had to squander a whole slew of precious lives to save you. From yourself. Why’d you stay, Amanda?”
Waller stared at the monitors, watching the different elements move across the screens.
“You know I’ve been studying your girlfriend.”
Flag didn’t want to talk about June. His personal life had nothing to do with Task Force X. He stared at one of the monitors—this one displaying a high-angle shot of the rail station. It was ringed by a palisade of stacked cars.
“What the hell did that?” he asked. “And why? There’s gotta be easier ways to construct a fence.”
Waller pushed the monitor so it faced away. “I’m talking now,” she said. “You listen. So, your girlfriend, she takes an average person—a yoga mom, an elderly retiree—and she turns them into soldiers who can take a headshot and still fight. Better, they don’t argue with their superiors. Sounds like heaven.”
Flag was listening. He wanted to hear where she was going.
“You know, it takes the military years to stamp out someone like you, Flag. She does it in a minute. Poof. An instant army.” She turned to one of the techs and barked an order. “Clip four hundred and seven.” He quickly typed in the info and the monitor displayed an exterior view of the station. A platoon of EAs exited the front doors and marched in perfect lockstep.
“Great,” Flag said. “They’re the damned Rockettes. So what’s the plan to stop her?”
To his surprise, Waller actually looked defeated. Flag had never quite seen her that way.
“There is no plan,” she said. “The suggestion box is wide open.”
He thought for a second. “They’re hard as hell to kill. I don’t think the government has enough bullets to put them all down, not if she can keep growing more. We have to nuke the place.”
Waller pointed to a different monitor, which showed a large ring of debris somehow floating above the station. “We thought of that, and acted,” she said flatly. “There’s a dozen W88 warheads trapped in that ring up there.”
Caught off guard, Flag stared at the ring and tried to make sense of it.
“How the hell is that floating? Are there wires hidden someplace I’m not seeing?” Waller enjoyed watching his confusion. As they watched, the ring began to pulse with a dark, strobing light. Somehow it felt evil to him. “What’s it doing now?”
Waller didn’t answer. She resumed stuffing papers into her bag.
“Waller,” he said again, a little louder, but she went to her desk and removed the case that contained Enchantress’s heart. She opened it to make sure the object was still inside. Flag noted it looked like a pincushion with who knew how many needles stuck in it.
“That’s the heart, isn’t it?” he said. “Her heart?”
* * *
Waller finally turned to him; her face betrayed both fear and anger.
“How’d she do it, Flag? How’d she game the system? With you watching her every move?”
Flag clenched his jaw. He looked at her and shook his head.
“I’ll accept the consequences.” But Waller was not going to let him off the hook.
“I’m your damned consequences, Rick.” Waller shoved the heart back in its case, shut the lid, then put the case into her bag. She looked up, and involuntarily let out a gasp. Deadshot was standing in the doorway. With his mask on, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. How much did he overhear?
He walked over to Flag, then nodded toward Waller.
“I’d be careful out there,” he said calmly. “Everyone thinks we’re rescuing Nelson Mandela or something. Certainly not you.”
Waller didn’t care what he thought. “I can take care of myself.” She turned to the techs. “Shut it down. Wipe the drives.”
The techs rushed into action. They pushed buttons. Screens went blank, replaced by the programming code for self-deletion. Within seconds all information linked to the EAs and Task Force X was gone. As far as the databases were concerned, none of them ever existed.
He watched as monitor after monitor turned itself off. He turned to Flag, repulsed yet still in awe.
“You won’t believe me, because you’re locked in your temple of soldierly self-righteousness.” His jaw tightened. “A dude as two-faced as you wouldn’t last but a minute in the streets.”
“Says the guy who shoots people for money.” Flag laughed.
“Yeah, but you’ve seen all my cards.” Deadshot shrugged. “I don’t hide what I am.”
Flag turned away. “You really pride yourself on being bad. Don’t. That’s starting off on the wrong foot. My way got it done, and that’s good enough for me. End of argument.”
“Yeah, well. We’re both pretty much the same—but you know, when it comes down to people lying face down in the streets, our little differences don’t make a helluva difference.”
Gunshots suddenly exploded behind Deadshot and Flag. Waller was emptying her Glock into the technicians. Three bullets. Three headshots.
“What the hell?” Deadshot exclaimed. The fourth tech had time to react. Cowering, he tried to hide, but Waller coldly finished him off. Deadshot softly applauded.
“Lady, that was gangster. You get the golf clap for that.”
Flag just stared at her, surprised and confused.
“Why? They’re your people?”
“They’re not cleared for any of this.” She put away her gun then turned to him. “Any of it. You can live with it?”
Flag shrugged. “I’ve buried a lot of mistakes, too.”
Waller almost smiled at him. “We’re bonded by this. Never forget it.” Then they headed for the exit.
Waller might have been smiling at him—in her own weird way—but Flag knew she’d put that gun to his head and kill him in half a heartbeat, if she needed to. For now she still needed him.
When she no longer did, he’d make sure he was m
ore than prepared to take her out first.
FORTY-NINE
The Squad saw Deadshot heading back toward them. Flag followed. Then Amanda Waller appeared behind them.
“No. Way,” Harley said, and she stared. She had to be hallucinating. Waller walked past her and the others, not even acknowledging their presence.
“What the hell’s going on, Flag?” Boomer asked.
Flag pushed in until they were nose to nose.
“Need to know, Harkness,” he growled, and he didn’t look happy. “Count your blessings rescuing her was this simple. Travel should be waiting for us on the roof. Follow me.”
“Getting here was simple?” Boomer echoed. “What parallel universe spawned you, Flag?” They headed for the stairs to the roof. Harley shook her head back and forth, refusing to believe this.
“We’re done,” Flag bellowed. “Everyone shut up and let’s go home.”
“Yeah, right,” Boomer said. “Mission accomplished. What could go wrong now?” He turned to Harley—she was walking beside him. “There’s gonna be a nine-point-seven any minute now,” he whispered.
Harley agreed. The part of her that had been Dr. Harleen Quinzel knew exactly what Boomerang was thinking, even while couching his words.
“I bet you walk under ladders and chase black cats, too,” she said, giggling. He grinned back at her.
“I make my own luck, darling,” he said. “I say we kill both of ’em. Right now. Before they kill us.”
She was about to respond when Katana, silent as always, came up behind them.
“Later,” Harley whispered. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” She looked at Croc and Boomer. They were in. Diablo was hit and miss, and she wasn’t sure she could trust Lawton any longer. Still, they’d make do with what they had.
Katana moved in closer to Waller, but the woman held up her detonator. She didn’t need protecting.
“Y’all made it this far,” she said, grim as ever. “Don’t get high spirited on me now, and ruin a good thing.”
Croc watched as she pushed open the door and walked onto the roof.
“She’s a rock. Nasty, too. I like her.”
Boomer shook his head. “Whatta bunch a’ wankers. You guys got no self-respect.”
Harley laughed. “A village in Australia is missing its idiot. You should call home.”
“That I will, sweet thing,” he said “And tell ’em exactly where they can find you.”
The SEALs were waiting on the roof. They watched the Chinook as it circled over them, then arced down to come in for a landing.
“Ride’s here,” GQ called.
Moving to the edge, the Squad stared down from the roof at the remains of what had been a thriving city. So many buildings were lying in rubble now. Others burned out of control. Everywhere they looked they saw terrible devastation. They doubted there had been time to save anything. Good for looting, they all thought, but given a choice, all of them knew they would rather get the hell out of there.
Deadshot saw Flag staring at him. He knew they were both thinking the same thing.
It’s over and we didn’t kill each other.
* * *
Flag looked up and watched the Chinook hover just above them. Something was wrong but he was unable to put a finger on it.
He traded looks with Waller.
She had the same hunch.
* * *
The floor of the chopper was littered with the bodies of Special Forces soldiers. Each had had his or her throat slit, and was lying in their own blood. The Joker found it all so funny, but he didn’t have time for the already dead when there were so many others still breathing.
The pilots knew about the Joker. They knew he could kill them both while the chopper was still flying, and risk crashing to Earth, too. Or he might suddenly decide to let them go free, and give them a million dollars each for their inconvenience. They had no clue how he would react, or what they might do that could set him off. So they both tried to stay professional, do what was ordered and not talk back.
Joker glanced into the cockpit and saw his Panda Man standing behind the pilot and co-pilot, holding his gun close.
“Nice job, boys,” Panda Man said. “Keep it up and I won’t turn your heads into Swiss cheese.” Joker laughed. Somehow the words “Swiss cheese” always got to him. Like “spaghetti” and “weapons of mass destruction.”
Frost sat behind, watching the nanite expert, Dr. Van Criss, use a spectrum analyzer to find the signal of the bomb Waller’s people had implanted in Harley’s neck.
The Joker was impatient. He tapped his glowing purple shoes against the chopper’s metal floor, then began to pace back and forth.
“We’re waiting, Doctor.”
Van Criss’s heart almost jumped out of his skin. He was in a helicopter with a madman. No. The madman. Every second the doctor still lived was a second that brought him closer to death. He knew that to extend those seconds as long as he could he had to do everything the Joker demanded, then somehow indicate he had further value down the road. If the Joker thought he might need him, perhaps he would let him live.
“Everything’s working, sir, just as I said it would,” he insisted. “But I need to be closer to isolate her specific signal. Can you get the pilots to do that, sir?”
The Joker leaned close to the pilot and gave him his broadest smile.
“Closer,” he said. Both pilots nodded. Absolutely. Whatever you want. Anything you say.
“So,” the Joker started, “you were saying, Doctor, that it’s all working? You’re not lying to me, are you?”
His heart beating like a trip-hammer, Van Criss looked up.
“No. No. I’d never do that, sir. It works. It really does. Just as you wanted.”
The madman leaned into him and gave him a big, toothy smile. “You definitely are my new best friend.”
Van Criss grinned. Happy. But then, he didn’t know what the Joker had done to his previous best friends.
FIFTY
Flag and Waller stared at the Chinook hovering directly over the Federal building, but not descending to its landing dock. Why wasn’t it landing? Something was wrong.
GQ shouted into his comm. “Savior One Zero. Why are you holding? Savior One Zero, respond, please. What the hell is going on up there, Savior One Zero?”
There was no answer. GQ traded looks with Flag.
“They’re not talking to me.”
Flag turned to the Squad. These were exactly the kind of scum who would throw a curveball like this. He turned back to GQ.
“Our bird’s been hijacked,” he said with certainty. “Light it up.” He thought it could be interesting to see how his killers reacted.
GQ and the SEALs opened fire on the Chinook. It suddenly slipped sideways, circling to reveal the tail ramp. Flag could see a big man inside it, spinning a six-barrelled chain gun. It pumped lead like water in a fire hose.
Flag shouted at his Squad. “Get down. Now.”
They scattered in different directions.
One of the SEALs let out a gasp then fell to the ground. A bullet tunneled through his forehead and exploded out the back. The other SEALs hit the deck, taking cover behind the roof’s parapet.
* * *
Harley hunkered down just a few yards from Deadshot. She saw him staring weirdly at her neck.
“What? I got a hickey or something?”
He looked at the indicator light just under her skin. It was blinking green.
“Your nanite’s disarmed.”
She felt her palm buzz. She unclenched her fingers and looked at the tiny cell phone the Joker had given her. She’d gotten a text.
Now. It’s time.
Finally she saw the Joker step out onto the Chinook’s tail ramp. Her eyes widened with joy and her heart almost burst from her chest.
This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for anyone else in the whole history of the world, she thought with fierce love. That’s why he’s my one and
only Puddin’.
Frost hosed down the roof with his chain gun, scattering SEALs and the Squad team. Next to him the Joker tossed out a rope. It unrolled down to the roof, then dragged toward the edge.
“Harley, it’s up to you now,” he said over the sound of the rotors.
Without hesitation, she ran for the edge of the roof and leapt to catch the rope. As she held on, the chopper nosed down and veered away. Frost kept firing at the rooftop to keep Flag and company pinned down. He only stopped shooting after they cleared the immediate area.
* * *
Deadshot stared at Harley climbing the rope to the copter. Joker impatiently waited for her inside.
“C’mon, babe,” the maniac shouted. “Quit taking your time. We got killing to do.”
“Mr. Lawton,” Waller said. “You kill that woman. Right now.”
Deadshot glared at her. “What’s she done to me?”
“You’re a hitman, right? I got a contract. Kill Harley Quinn. For your freedom and your kid.”
Deadshot nodded. He lifted his carbine and aimed it at Harley, her copter rapidly receding into the distance. He stared at her; she was square in his crosshairs. What Boomer had said. Easy peasy.
“This won’t be easy, lady,” he said to Waller. “They’re already so damn far. And I don’t have time to calibrate wind velocity. Good as I am, I make no promises.”
“I’ll hold you to one anyway. Kill her.”
He didn’t know what to do, and that bothered him. Was he growing a damned conscience? After all this time? He was pretty sure that would be a “no.” He would never allow that to happen. That would be the death of Deadshot.
He tightened his finger on the trigger.
“Now, Lawton. For your daughter.”
He squeezed it.
* * *
Harley had nearly reached the open tail ramp. Her Puddin’ was waiting there for her. He’d risked everything to save her, and she was definitely going to show him how grateful she was.
She heard the bullet explode from Deadshot’s M4A1. A second later it impacted, less than an inch from Harley’s ear. She glanced back at the Federal Building. Deadshot was standing in front of Waller. She was dressing him down.
