AUGUST
"We just saved the world! A 'thank you' would be nice!"
Harley was right, after all. Coming out of this long night alive was something to be proud of. Waller being alive, everything being for nothing but a return to prison was definitely spoiling the fun now.
"Thank you." Waller said matter-of-factly, still holding the phone in her hand. With one press, she would arm the nanites left in the room. Slipknot's had done it's duty. There was nothing left of Diablo at all.
"You're welcome!" Harley beamed like everything was genuine again.
Boomerang was skulking in the background. Rick Flag was trying to look away from June. He didn't have a gun. If any of them decided that now was the time to make a move at Waller, he couldn't stop them. But really, why would he?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered a deal with Deadshot that he still wanted to honor, but Waller wasn't going to make that easy. He already knew what lay ahead in the next couple of days. A debriefing, hopefully after a hot shower.
Waller would only want him to keep his mouth shut. That would be his bargaining chip here, he supposed. Silence for freedom, June's freedom to go back home and try to put her mind back together. He could get out from under her thumb too, but even that was going to be stretching things to the limit.
"So we did all of this and we don't get shit?" Lawton was incredulous.
"Ten years off your prison sentences." Waller announced to the collective disappointment of the room. June looked at him and gently shook her head. He couldn't speak up now.
I am your consequence.
And even though Waller had kept the witch in the cage and held June's life over his head to keep him doing her dirty work for months now, she wouldn't forget that he had let The Enchantress outplay her. Maybe bringing back most of the crop was going to have to be enough to get both of his wishes granted. But what did that mean for Lawton and the rest?
They were the bad guys, but they had stood with him to stop the witch and save June. He had as good of a memory as Waller, with something resembling a conscience still lurking under the boots of a soldier. It was a debt he would have to repay in his own way.
"No, that's not enough." Deadshot shook his head, "I'm seeing my daughter."
Waller glanced at the floor. Maybe some strings could be pulled to reward the hitman. "That can be arranged... any other requests?"
Harley took a second and a half, sticking her finger up and nearly dropping her bat in the process. "Ooh! An espresso machine!"
Croc turned his neck and looked directly at Waller for the first time since his departure to the sewer had been cut short. "BET." He growled.
Waller didn't know if he meant access to television or the entire music network, but details could be hashed out later.
Boomerang was laughing now, and Flag dared to take a step back out of reflex when he strode away from him and approached Waller. "Ten years off a triple life sentence? Darlin', I'm walking out of 'ere a free man or we're gonna start having some real fun!"
He dared to stop three steps away from Waller. She cut the difference to two.
"Why don't we have some fun?" Without even looking at the phone in her hand, her thumb armed the three nanites remaining on the screen.
Harley would have noticed her picture faded away with Diablo's and Slipknot's if she had been paying attention. She had actually dropped her bat now, pointing her finger at something past the mountain of rubble that had once been the west wall of the train station.
Waller was too busy relishing Boomerang's immediate crumble of bravado to notice. Flag put a hand on Dr. Moone's shoulder and instinctively walked in front of her. Boomerang finally looked up from the floor as a bloody glove pressed a silver forty-five caliber to Waller's neck.
"You ruined my suit." The Joker growled. Flag's hand drifted to an empty holster on his thigh. Inwardly, he swore. Waller's bottom lip curled under her teeth. She slowly turned around, staring down the bore of the gun.
"Puddin'!" Harley threw her arms forward and ran. Deadshot caught her by the waist and held her back. Waller stole a glance at him and nodded.
"You want your girlfriend." Waller said slowly. The Joker waved the pistol in front of her face. Boomerang was slowly backing away until he ran into Katana, who nudged him out of her way and stood behind Waller. Her sword handle clicked as she drew the first centimeter of steel from the sheath.
"No-no-no-no." The Joker waved his hand. The side of his face was a pastiche of faded white makeup, green hair so carefully combed hours ago now a mess, and blood that ran black under the few lights in the station that hadn't gone out. He pulled back the hammer. Katana froze. "Harley. Give her to me." He waved his hand again, this time at Harley. She put both arms against Deadshot's arm and shoved downward.
"I can go! I can go! The bomb's dead!" She pulled away from him finally. "We did our job, Deadshot. Mister J is going to blow her head off!" She raised a hand to her lips and giggled. "Then you can all get out of here too!"
Katana turned around. The sword moved another inch. Harley laughed. "Get out of my way, Ninja!" She moved to the left, Katana moved with her. She sidestepped to the right and almost slid in her boots across the wet floor, catching herself on Waller's shoulder. She laughed, patting her shoulder like a kid saying goodbye.
Waller shook her head as The Joker threw an arm around Harley's shoulders and pulled her close. She reached up to squeeze the flower still pinned to his ruined suit jacket. It fell apart between her fingers and slipped to the floor. "You're going to have to stay, Ms. Quinn. Your boyfriend here, I think he should perhaps consider his options. He went to a lot of trouble for you. It would be very unromantic to make you mad now."
Harley pulled her leg up and slapped her knee with her free hand, the other one squeezing her Puddin' hard enough to make him groan and nudge her hand away from a particularly bloody spot on his white collared shirt underneath the tuxedo top. "Puddin', I'm really tired of her face. We can make something new out of it, can't we?"
The corner of Waller's mouth lifted into a smile. "Flag's out of ammunition. So are the others. You'll never have a better chance, clown."
It was The Joker's turn to laugh. A loud cackle that started from the back of his throat, and giving a full view of all his metal caps to Waller's eyes. "I like her, Harley! I really do!" He kissed his lady's cheek. She turned red under her own ruined face. She was halfway into a pout when he lowered the gun to his side. "I think you need to say goodbye to your friends. We can go home now."
Deadshot was watching this whole scene play out, just cursing at the Universe for refusing to let the longest night of his life end in some measure of peace. Maybe he could see Zoe again after all... if Waller kept her word. Diablo was right. Flag had what he needed now. The carrot wasn't leaving the stick. The deal wasn't going to happen. For the first time, The Joker looked at him. Harley pointed to him and whispered something in the clown's ear that he couldn't make out. He nodded and flashed another metallic grin.
"I'll miss you guys!" Harley threw another wave into the air. "Maybe we can work out something with visitation-"
The phone beeped again. Out of reflex, Harley froze. Waller had two fingers on the screen now, one on the arm key.
"You can leave, Ms. Quinn... but the other three will stay here. For a very long time, minus their heads. So maybe you should reconsider." The Joker himself, and she felt no fear. Nothing she couldn't control. High-resolution photos from security cameras and the hours of videos and dossiers hadn't rattled her, and the real man was always no match for the legend in her mind. Except maybe The Bat. "Joker, Harley's friends are the price of exit. You should ask her if she really wants that."
Boomerang had slid off his feet and dropped onto a pillar knocked sideways, putting his head in his hands. This wasn't fair, any of it. He was tired of running around, tired especially of being threatened with having his noggin blown off. He'd come back. He'd been good for once. Didn't he deserve more than going back to that Hell they called home for him? How could anyone want that compared to real freedom?
She had shown him something. Something he really wanted. Something he could have, forever.
Why do you serve those who cage you? I am your ally... and I know what you want. Exactly what you want.
The Joker looked at Harley, waving his gun from her to himself.
"Harley, come on. Come on-comeon-comeon." He growled out, not taking his eyes off Waller, as if mystified by her more than she was by him.
"Puddin', I can't." Harley huffed, looking at him. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you lots. They're my friends."
The Joker looked at his lover, then rolled his eyes. His throat released another growl of discontent, his head rolling back on his neck as he decided what to do in an instant.
He laughed again, this time louder and harder than he could remember in a long time. A hand went to the back of his pants. Taking several large steps back, he bit into the ring of a smoke grenade and rolled it across the floor. In less than a second, thick white smoke filled the destroyed station. The last anyone saw that night of him was the gun in his hand waving them all goodbye, his form vanishing into the smoke. "Bye bye!"
Flag took June in one hand and Deadshot's shoulder in the other, leading everyone out into the street.
Katana pulled at Waller, who stared after The Joker with the same little content smile on her face. She turned and walked herself, slowly out the door.
Harley stood there, gazing into the clouds of smoke and feeling ready to cry for the second time that night. It was the ninja of all people who finally shook her out of it and led her outside.
Waller took a deep breath of fresh air, turned around and looked at everyone once more. The cleanup crew was arriving. Six helicopters were already approaching the city, under orders to do so as soon as the beam went down. They were recon. They'd pick up any high-value survivors and report back the green light for the real cleanup to start.
"Let's go home." The Wall said, finally releasing the nanite's arming catch on her phone.
DECEMBER
"I gotta go." He said, looking back from Zoe to the door.
His first visitation, with no promise of a second one signed or dated just yet, was over after four hours. He'd been counting down every minute. Flag had drank two cups of coffee and stood in the doorway the rest of the time, barely saying a word.
"Are you coming back?" She asked.
"Yeah, yeah... I'm working it out. Working it out, y'know? But I promised my friends that I would just... you know, go, without... without killing them all. Bring it in." He drew Zoe into a hug. She squeezed him hard, her head resting on his shoulder.
Five feet away, the cuffs jingled in someone's hand.
"I love you, Daddy." Zoe said to him.
"I love you." He whispered back.
Back in the cuffs, wrists and ankles tethered to a belt locked around his gut. Flag put a coat over his shoulders. Two of the men lifted the bar from the door. He looked back at Zoe.
"I'm coming back." Floyd said. The smile she gave him made it suddenly okay to go back to prison again.
The walk back to the car would have been easier if he could spread his legs more than three feet at a time. Flag had a hand on his shoulder. The summer was over now. Gotham was getting colder already.
"Watch your head." Flag said, opening the back door for Floyd. He ducked down and climbed inside. Flag put an arm out for the one looking to climb in with them.
"You follow. I'll watch him." He waved them on. They went to the other car across the street and slowly backed out.
The driver shrugged and turned the key, turning down the radio when it began to blare some sort of country tune.
"The next visit." Deadshot said to Flag. It wasn't a question. He had already waited far too long for the first one. Four more months of Belle Reve with a little mail allowance wasn't enough for all he'd done.
"A month from today, give or take a day depending on the mother's schedule. She's a security risk, so she can't be present. Four hours once a month. Her mother's getting two-k in child support per month. Your mail keeps coming in every two days. Belle Reve doesn't do correspondence without a phony address to bounce off." Riding along for a private little visitation party had perks. He hit the minibar.
"Waller might get mad if you drink all her booze." Deadshot said to him. "Once a month, four hours. That's not very good, Flag. I like the mail. You know what her Mom is going to do with two grand a month, whether it comes from ARGUS or the Salvation Army. You want to feed her habits, that's fine. But I want someone keeping an eye on Zoe." Flag started to wave him off. "And a teleph-"
Flag's hand cut through the air, down like throwing Deadshot's demands on the floor. A glass in one hand, an empty little vodka bottle in the other. "Yeah, I have to stop you there. I asked Waller for the full perk package. She said no phone, one visit a month. Mail back and forth. Handwritten, no computers. No emails. I didn't ask about someone to play babysitter, and I won't be around to do it. So if you can convince her, good luck."
Deadshot scoffed at him, but his look softened. Flag remembered in Midway City, being pretty eager to blow the hitman's head off unless the mission got accomplished. Nothing had gone easy for anyone, but the whole group of freaks and killers had come through for something. June was home. Waller was letting him go back to riding a tank if he felt like it.
I am your consequence.
"No more babysitting for you." Deadshot said. "Toss me something brown." He held out a hand two and a half feet away from his waist. There wasn't going to be anything but coca-cola on the little plane back to Belle Reve, so why not get drunk before the ride if he could? "No more Waller, no more big missions. There's no war happening now."
Flag tossed him a little Kentucky. He slid off the cap and drank it in two slow sips, tossing it back. Flag caught it with the side of his hand and smiled, tossing him another.
"How's June?" Deadshot looked at him a little different. The whiskey wasn't kicking in yet, but the announcement that he wasn't going to be signing off for anything under ARGUS was unexpected. Now he thought he knew why Flag had come on a four-hour plane ride to drink coffee and stand in the door.
"She's good." Flag stared into his untouched glass, then stopped nursing and got to work on it. "She um... she has nightmares."
Deadshot drank the second Kentucky and put it on the seat next to him. The other car was riding their ass, and it was making quite a sight to see two fancy black cars riding down this neighborhood. The closest thing to compare was the fresh coat of paint on the check cashing place.
"That's not unexpected. I've had a few myself. She got in my head, same as you. But at least I don't have to go to bed with her tonight."
"Tomorrow. Flight to D.C. ain't until tomorrow." Flag replied.
"Well there we go then. Croc's got a TV. We could order in some food, watch the game." He cracked a smile at the soldier. "Or I could just get a TV myself to go with the mail."
Flag went digging back in the minibar again. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Deadshot. Waller gave word to Reve to have your demands filled. Within reason. Your dinner should be improved. Maybe you can punch something besides your mattress."
"Oh, I hit the wall too. It doesn't bounce back. I kind of like it." He regarded the back of his hands. They felt more comfortable in his gloves, with four pounds of ballistic weaponry bolted to the back, calibrated for a quick shot with nothing but a tilt of his wrist. His knuckles *were* pretty swollen altogether.
Flag looked at him, the last Kentucky out of the minibar in his hand, just out of Floyd's reach. He didn't go for it.
"When you go with Waller, you're going to be under her thumb. Now, someone's got to be there. But I had my reasons for wanting out besides June. With the witch gone, she doesn't have leverage over me. But she has leverage over you while you're in that cell. Just a friendly warning, Deadshot." Flag handed it to him.
"I guess we can say friends now." Floyd uncapped it, raising it in a mock toast of plastic and liquor to his handler, in the back of a fancy black car going down a winter road. "I know where I'm at. If she comes to pay a visit, we'll have things to talk about. I don't work for free. Neither will Harkness or Harley, but I don't know what they like besides money and clowns." Or unicorns, he thought at the same time a flush from the whiskey came up his face, and he nearly snorted. He shook his head at Flag.
"What's on your mind now?" Rick was incredulous, to say the least.
"You're not a chicken, Flag. I'll give you that. You went through all of that with us. Every inch of it. That's respect." He dropped the whiskey and leaned forward. The driver glanced up in the rearview mirror. Flag didn't flinch. "...but I'd advise you to avoid getting between me and your boss. If you're out, you're out. I run my own deal."
"Oh, you can run your own deal." Flag nodded, setting his glass back in the bar. He dug around for a snack to take his mind off drinking. It was going to be easy to kill the whole stash if he wanted. He was having nightmares too, but those had come before June and would say for a long time. "Just take this advice - from a friend - she's not a good boss."
Deadshot shook off the liquor and straightened up in his seat.
"I've been locked away for a year, Flag. I like to work."
Getting back 'home' that afternoon wasn't so bad. Griggs wasn't around. There was a brand new punching bag hanging in his cell, a new pair of boxing gloves sitting on his bed next to a cardboard box. It appeared that Waller was going to keep the carrot on the stick for Flag after all.
It was still hot and humid in Louisiana, even as Floyd knew that Zoe was likely putting on two pairs of socks with her snow boots right now up in Gotham.
He looked back at the door and noted that someone had riveted a little handle on the inside, giving him control over the two slots in the door, for eyeline and feeding. He opened the one at eye level and called out, "Hey!"
Someone down at the end of the hall seemed to jump at something to do all day, and came walking quickly.
"Floyd." It wasn't Griggs, as much as he hoped it would be. He could probably sweat that pig bastard now, having a few perks in his cell and a few more at his beck and call. Ah well, all in good time. He didn't even mind being called Floyd.
"I missed dinner." He said, and not even hungry. Zoe had wanted to show off her latest masterpiece - pasta. Specifically, spaghetti and ground beef. Hardly something to go with a pot of coffee, but he'd enjoyed every bite.
"You're on the meal ticket now. We already fed the crazy girl. Tell me what you want." This must have been a strange day for a guard who was used to throwing nutraloaf bars through the slot and beating him down when he invited them in.
"I'll have a burger. Actually, two burgers. Send them to the Croc. He might get a kick out of something cooked for once. Cheese and all that stuff. Just give me gatorade, powerade, whatever. What's in that box?" He cocked a thumb over his shoulder.
"All the old correspondance we could dig up. Most of it went in the trash. Don't take it personal. I'm supposed to treat you fair. Can't promise how Griggs will take the new rules around here."
Deadshot knew why the guard was playing nice - it was his chance with the pigass Warden MOA from work, and it lessened his chances of getting on the wrong side of either Deadshot or his handlers in the future, although he wasn't going to forget nine months worth of bullshit any time soon.
Maybe before it was all over, he would ask for Belle Reve to get a little restaffing, and to be the firing squad that cancelled a few contracts around here.
He opened the box and thumbed through several of the letters. Out of the nine months he'd missed the mail, there was maybe two of them here. He decided that he would sort it all out later and find something better than a cardboard box. He slid the letters back into the box and picked up the gloves. Before he put the right glove on, his fingers reached down to touch the little pile of letters he still hadn't cleaned up.
A lot of nights, he read them over again, and over, and sometimes he even wept.
The gloves didn't fit. Well, damn. The slot opened and a squeeze bottle of orange drink came through. Whether it was gatorade or powerade, he couldn't tell. They'd ripped the label off. He took a long sip and contemplated his bare hands.
One more day without gloves wouldn't kill him. He started to hit the bag, working up a good sweat. He decided to finish a set of hooks and jabs to the 'body' before taking off his jailwear, then sighed. The letters were still on his mind. Zoe's cooking and her homework and hug were fresh in the foreground. He hugged the heavy bag, looking down at the letters.
He had one sleeve off before the big boom.
Harley's espresso machine coughed and steamed as it poured a fresh cup. She climbed off her bunk and held the cup under the spout carefully, looking next to the machine and thinking I just need donuts now. Or maybe those little pastry cakes with the cream cheese.
She perched back on her bed and opened her book back to her place, sipping the sweet caffeine. Her second of the day already, and caffeine didn't like her meds, but she didn't like her meds either.
Fifteen minutes of her book later, she was contemplating another espresso. Why not? She could always wave at the camera later and ask for something stronger than toothpaste from a cardboard tube...
The steam was bubbling out again for a third cup and she reached up to tug the handle.
The wall outside of her cage exploded.
Killer Croc climbed halfway up the ladder when the hatch was opened, freezing as he saw two tranquilizer rifles rocked and ready up above him.
"Deadshot likes you." The guard said, bending down and offering two cheeseburgers wrapped in wax paper at arm's length. Croc growled and gave a facsimile of a smile before lunging up to grab them. The guard fell back on his rear and dragged himself to the wall. The two with the rifles tightened their grip.
"Thanksh." came the voice already skittering back down the ladder. When the hatch was shut, he reached up past the bottles on his little rock shelf and grabbed the remote, turning the volume back up. He unwrapped the first burger and bit in.
Boomerang paced back and forth in his cell. Every now and then he would start screaming, or crying, and they would shut the door completely and ignore him until he tried to set fire to the mattress again, when they would just come in and gas him, knock him around a bit and replace it, if he managed to actually carve enough flint from the wall to spark anything.
Every night since coming back from Midway City, the man came around and asked him if he was ready to give Waller a call and go back to work. But the hell with that she-devil and her schemes. And especially the hell with being locked away like this. This wasn't living. How could anyone appreciate this over the open fields?
She had shown him something. The witch had shown him something and he couldn't forget it. He wanted and needed it more than anything now, but he couldn't get it here.
"LET ME OUT OF HERE! HEY! CAN YOU FEEL THAT?! AAAHHH!" The guard outside was reaching up for the handle on the window in the door.
"Let me out of here, darlin', please? Listen! Listen to me - have you got a car? I'm an excellent dr-" She slowly pushed it up. The bitch.
"LET ME OUT OF HERE GODDAMNIT!" He screamed to no one in particular, his voice bouncing back hard enough in the little confined room that he didn't hear the blast right away. When the last soundwave hit the solitary block, he finally stopped screaming, and ran to the door, trying to listen through three inches of steel.
"Let's go home." He whispered, and twirled her under his arm. With the clown gang upstairs firing away at any guard they could find still breathing, they ignored all of the chaos around them for a moment and danced in the cell. He picked her up off her feet and kissed her. She broke away, smiling.
"My friends! Puddin, please..." He waved a hand in front of her face, putting a gloved finger to her lips as he flipped off the helmet. It was then that she noticed he'd taken the time to have a patch of his liking made for the chestplate and arm: JKR.
"Oh, don't worry, Harley. It's being taken care of right..." He raked back his sleeve, revealing an arm covered in four different watches. He twisted his hand around to line them all up, and looked between them. "Now."
One hundred and four miles away, an ARGUS antenna array exploded. Screens in every installation in the Southeast USA lit up as well, showing five immediate wipes - All three in Louisiana, both in Texas. Seconds later, there were a few more warning klaxons as an array in Mississippi disappeared as well. The blips crawled around the screen. Whether they had all been blown up or just thrown offline by the loss of shared network was unknown.
Amanda Waller was contemplating her upcoming tribunal, her testimony, and hopefully one last long day before putting Midway City to rest. Wayne had come through. She would be safe. Giving away her last three (and best) leads had been a costly decision, but it was going to pay off.
Her phone rang.
Killer Croc's television had gone out. He finished the first burger and tore the wax paper to shreds with his teeth, swearing as he reached for a bottle. The hatch above him was thrown open again.
"KC! Climb out!" It was Shorty again. The best voice he'd heard all day.
Griggs, that bastard. Of all the days to not show up, the subordinate Warden Pace thought as he watched the mayhem on the few remaining monitors that hadn't been knocked off or caught by a stray bullet.
He had rang the call for backup from the outside, but he wasn't sure if the signal had gone through. ARGUS had provided most of their gear, and it appeared that ARGUS was having some network difficulties.
He was going in the safe when something happened to the hinges on the armored door. They melted under the strain of some kind of heavy diamond-bit saw. He glanced back and saw a hellish clown face grinning at him, still dressed up like one of his own men.
With the network down, his orders were to immediately pop off the nanites, to prevent the worst villains from escaping. It was the only device close enough to get the job done, but he never made it. He had his hand on the tablet when two hands grabbed his boots.
"Uh-uh-uh-uh!" The Joker pulled him across the floor and spun him around, throwing a boot against his chest. Two more clown gang members in stolen uniforms rushed in, pulling him up and throwing him over the desk, pinning him down.
The Joker laid the tablet on the Warden's desk and made a little dance out of strutting back to the hallway, kicking the diamond bit saw away. He returned with a solid steel sledgehammer, spraypainted in red and green.
"Hold still! I don't have a license!" The Joker crooned as the two others pinned the tablet down on his chest and stuck a few pieces of duct tape around the edges to stick it to his shirt. Pace wanted to scream, but nobody would hear anyway.
The Joker started to laugh, first a little titter that built into a rolling cackle as he slammed the hammer down over and over, smashing the tablet as well as Pace's pelvis and most of his ribs. They left him on the floor, The Joker's laughter echoing all the way down the hall.
Floyd Lawton had his back to the wall of his cell, both hands tightened into fists. All of Zoe's letters were in the cardboard box and safely tucked away in the corner behind him.
Someone rapped on the door, and called out over gunfire far off in the distance.
"Deadshot! I gotta hit the door, you might wanna move, sweetie!"
It was Harley.
He nodded, as if she could see him. "Go for it, dollface."
A heavy battering ram hit the door half-assed, then there was a loud thud on the other side.
"Oof. Not built for my size... hey, I want to play with that!" A power saw was revving up.
The latch fell apart. The door swung open. He tucked the box under his arm tight, looking at The Joker, Killer Croc and Harley all standing there. This was surreal, a hell of a way to end the best day he'd had in a year.
"Your bomb's off!" Harley leapt into the cell and threw her arms around him. He tried to hug her and hold onto the box at the same time. The Joker scowled. Deadshot met his eyes and gently pushed her away.
"How long?" He looked at the clown now.
"The city back there, that was a little different." The Joker spun a finger in the air. "Lots of uplinks, lots of public networks to bounce around... lots of cameras. Lots of ways to get a little signal. But out here, in the swamp... we've got a few hours to get a few hundred miles away. I'm going to drive very fast."
Killer Croc growled, The Joker looked at him.
Harley laughed, squeezing The Joker's padded neck through his guard uniform. "We'll have to give him a ride, puddin'. And Mick Dundee and Deadshot too. So their heads don't go pop. Let's get going. We can drop them off somewhere nice. Maybe crash a hotel party..." She started to chatter ideas to herself, all of them more unlikely than the next.
Floyd went for the door. Harley and Croc were picking up guns next to dead bodies on the floor. Croc tried to hold the semi-auto carbine in his large hands, squeezed too hard and broke the trigger guard. He growled again.
The Joker, of all people today, blocked his way out of the cell, putting an arm on his shoulder. The glove off, Deadshot had a very efficient view of his rings and the laughing grin on the back of his hand.
"Harley told me... that your boss wanted her dead. And you didn't do it."
Floyd nodded. "We fought together. I don't kill women or children anyway."
The Joker laughed. "Oh, I like to avoid that myself. So here's the deal." He raised a finger in Deadshot's face. "I think I might have a job for you. Or two, or a thousand. Harley wants me to give you a W-2 form when we get back to Gotham." He leered his silver grin again. "And we're going to pick up your daughter."
Deadshot was all smiles now, and this was turning into the best day of his life. To hell with the year.
"All this for me? For her?" He was incredulous. The Joker turned and took him out the door. He reached out for the carbine that Croc couldn't handle. Croc shook his head.
"Well, today is a special day." The clown said. Harley stopped her prance halfway down the hallway.
"That's right!" She was all cheer again. "It's my birthday! December 14! Same as Patty Duke and Nostradamus!"
Her assassin friend waved his hand.
"Happy Birthday, craziness. Now let's go get Mick Dundee." He looked back at Croc. "I could use a gun."
Croc thrust the carbine at him finally. He weighed it in his hands, checked the clip and waved Harley out of the way. "I'll lead. A lot of these fellows and I didn't get along. I really wish Griggs had come to work today."
The Joker laughed again, and Deadshot didn't know why.
The door opened. Digger Harkness ran two fingers through his beard, felt his heart pounding in his chest, and leapt out, fist ready.
Deadshot caught his fist and put him against the door. "Easy there, Boomerang. We're getting out of here. We've got a few hours to get out of ARGUS territory."
Boomerang nodded frantically, and ran for the door. A green hand caught him this time, thick and reptilian.
"We got a ride, brah." Croc hissed. Boomerang nodded. He turned and saw Harley, and The Joker. He nodded frantically again.
"Oh, thank you..." He whispered, leaning his head back on the wall for a moment, even offering the ceiling a gaze.. "Thank you, thank you..." He looked at Harley, then The Joker. She pointed to her puddin', as if offering him credit for everything.
Boomerang jumped over to hug him, stopped and stepped back, his face sinking in fear. He remembered how The Joker didn't like Waller ruining his suit. Bumbling, he reached up and straightened the shoulder pads.
"Sorry, mate... listen, thank you. A million times. You too, sheila..." He gazed at Harley. "I can make it real now. What she showed me... I knew I could do it if I could just get-"
The last stand of the guards was commencing. They came around the corner of the solitary block. Deadshot slammed the rifle up to his shoulder and bent his left knee slightly, accomodating for the lack of wind in the corridor. Four shots, four helmets exploded. He dropped the rifle to his side and smiled.
"Tell us your dream journal later. Let's move."
Waller finally had something of the network back up on her end. The full network was going to take a while to reboot and even longer to reach optimum signal with five of six arrays in the southwest down, but she had camera and audio feeds from Belle Reve, whatever hadn't been cut off or smashed or shot.
There were her four toys, led by the Joker himself, strutting out of Belle Reve. She almost smiled when she saw Harley struggling to lift a battering ram at the Property Room. Croc picked it up for her, pushed her out of the way and went to hell on the steel latches until they gave. The four rushed inside. Three minutes later, they emerged carrying as much of their personal effects as they could carry. Harley was trying to drag a red trunk out the door and failed to get it out frontways or sideways, so she just unzipped it and grabbed a big handful of clothes and what appeared to be her favorite baseball bat.
Boomerang was frantically shoving every single boomerang he could find in the boxes into the pockets of a long coat, draping it over himself. Croc was just glancing around aimlessly. Lawton was unzipping what looked like a shoulder case for a guitar and dumping guns in there.
Waller picked up her phone again.
"I want audio link to Belle Reve." She paused, listening to the futility on the other end. "Then patch it through the system on the emergency channel. I have something to say."
The big door was up ahead. It appeared everyone who could interfere was already gone, bodies strewn everywhere. The Joker had gotten on his stolen radio and ordered his men to get two of the black SUVs outside wired and ready to go. Deadshot had ditched the half broken carbine for one of his preferred rifles, twisting threads on the compensator and lifting an eye to the scope for calibration, even as he didn't slow his stride.
Freedom, and Zoe.
The speakers above them whined with feedback. A ringing noise bore through the whole dead jail. They stopped by instinct.
"It's Waller." A familiar voice of hatred and doom in their lives came through the feed. "I am watching you. You have done enough damage today. Return to your cells, I guarantee your lives. Leave, I will kill you."
Harley raised a hand to her ear, looking up at the speaker and addressing it directly. "I can't hear you, lady! Sorry, I think you went through a tunnel!"
Deadshot tried to smile, but this was not good... they were at least a few hours away from Gotham... and Zoe.
"You did a fine job with the network, and I don't suppose that the Warden will be putting in my failsafe any time soon. So... you've got one over on me, haven't you?" It was asked like a question, but did not feel like one.
Amanda Waller had one card left, and she was ready to play it.
"Lawton. Deadshot." She spoke to him directly now, and he stayed where he stood... the others were going for the door. "They'll get away. I don't expect you to stop them. You already proved that to me once. But I can promise you something... I will get to her before you do. All I do is raise my hand. Mark my words."
Everyone froze. Floyd's heart sank. Today had been going so well.
"Return to your cell. Wait for backup to arrive, then quietly surrender yourself for questioning. Say nothing. I will be there in three hours." Waller sighed. "The rest of you... I implore you to think twice here. There is nowhere you can go that I won't eventually find you... nowhere you can hide, nowhere you can run. All you have now... is a head start."The speaker cut out finally.
Harley looked at Deadshot. She frowned.
"Mr. J has people in Gotham he can call!" She looked at Joker. He tried to smile and nod, but he could only scowl. This had already become way too complicated for the tastes of him and his plan.
"Can't risk it." Floyd sighed and bent down, opening the bag and putting the rifle in it. He offered it out to Harley. "Hold onto these for me. I'll come get them soon... you all better get going..." Before he could finish, Croc and Harkness were out the door. The Joker looked back at them once, then followed himself.
Harley took the bag of guns, tucked her bat under that arm and put the other one around his shoulder, kissing his cheek.
"You're my friend." She said softly.
"You're mine too. I'll be back." Deadshot said. "Count on it."
Croc and Boomerang rode with two of the clown gang in the first vehicle. Their orders were to bring them back to Joker's way stop. Between here and Gotham, he had a little place ready, with someone who could help him dig out the nanites in everyone's necks. Then they could go on their merry way, and he and Harley would go to Gotham.
The Joker smiled as Harley slid into the car next to him. He tapped the seat in front of him with a familiar cane he'd left on the floor, and the car moved forward.
"I'm sorry about your pal." The Joker offered as sincere as he could. "But I got one more birthday present for my favorite girl." He reached over the seat and patted something wriggling under a tarp.
Harley lit up again and pulled the tarp back. There was Former Warden Griggs, bound and gagged, staring up at her in horror.
"I always wanted a jail warden on my wall!" Harley threw herself around her Puddin' again.
This was the best birthday ever.
I feel the anger again. The rage... the helplessness. It hurts. God, it hurts.
Every time I feel hope, it goes away just as fast... and every time I try to get one over on them, they win.
I'm halfway back into the cell when I stop. This is my last chance, and I can't take it.
I love you, Daddy...
"Lawton." The bitch's voice comes over the speakers again. "Do as you're told. We have a lot of work to do."
I drop Zoe's letters and punch the wall outside the cell. Over and over and over again. Plaster and concrete under shitty paint crumble and break under my knuckles. Pain shoots through my arms, but I can only punch more... harder and faster. Somewhere inside myself, a fire that's burned for a whole year grows out of control.
Finally, one of my knuckles either cracks or dislocates. My whole hand flashes with sick pain and goes numb. I look down at both, blood and concrete dust covering them.
"We'll play." I whisper as loud as I can, looking up at the camera on the wall. "You win this round, Waller."
I step into the cell. No point in closing the door, the lock's gone.
When my hands are both numb, I make sure all my fingers and knuckles are still in place. I can't break my hands too bad, I'm going to need them.
The box of letters is still on the floor outside. I get up quickly and go to pick it up. Nothing too bad, just a few dog ears on the envelopes.
"I love you..." I whisper into the box before I open it.
When they come to find The Joker's mess and everyone gone, I'm just sitting on my mattress, reading Zoe's love once more.
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast; it is not proud."
- CORINTHIANS 13:4