Rick Flag would begrudgingly admit to having developed a bit of a soft spot for his newly acquired and rather unruly in a violent murderous manner subordinates. Especially now since they were the only members of his team still left, plus Katana and most unlikely, GQ, who they'd found surprisingly alive and truthfully rather obnoxiously chipper buried under a mountain of molten rocks and ash being protected from the scorching elements by a seriously injured but very much alive Diablo. Though Flag couldn't say he's all too surprised, after all you can't kill a demon with fire.

Speaking of demons, Amanda Waller was obviously a demonic entity in a league entirely of her own.

"If they refuse to surrender the package, kill them. If they refuse to cooperate, kill them. If they're thinking of double crossing us, kill them. If a distant cousin of their mothers' so much as coughs suspiciously in the general direction of a US citizen, kill them."

Flag could feel the tub-thumping of an oncoming headache pulsing behind his eyeball as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Aren't we going into allied territory on a peaceful mission to escort the Ugandan Prime Minister's daughter back home?"

Amanda levelled him with a steely gaze and Flag was sure it shaved a good couple years off his life. "Did I stutter, Colonel Flag?"

"No, ma'am. You heard the lady, fellas, time for package extranctin'." Flag's instructions were met by a chorus hoots and hollering's showing the teams genuine excitement to finally be getting back other there on a mission. Flag just wanted to curl back up in bed in a pair of jammies he hasn't voluntarily chosen to wear since he turned four, tear into a large pack of Doritos dip it in some good ol' Rocky Road and just watch some stupid, mindless reality show.

To be fair, none of the guys in front of him besides GQ and Katana were at ground zero during the Enchantress FUBAR and none of the people in front of him just got dumped by the love of their life. Well, dumped wasn't the word June had chosen, as she had explained, she just couldn't stand to be anywhere near the subway station of the city without getting violent flashbacks and nightmares about the incident and truthfully Flag didn't blame her. She couldn't stay and he couldn't leave. So thus was the impasse. Ultimately Flag no longer had anyone to help him keep his bed company and warm at night. Not to say that Flag didn't completely understood June's explanation though, but while he scrolls through the pictures she religiously sends him of her travels to foreign lands, visiting crowded beaches and average shopping malls in South East Asia and avoiding any country with even a whisper of any sort of magical history like…well, the plague, and looking happier and healthier than he'd seen her in ages, Flag thinks that dumped is as good a word as any.

Truthfully he just wanted to get out there and kill some motherfuckers.

Which is why he's absolutely livid when he arrives back at his apartment the next morning, tossing his keys onto the counter top and walking over to the fridge to retrieve some milk. Or a beer. Or some amyl nitrate if it happened to be lying around.

Not one bullet was fired during the whole mission. Not one! Absolutely no fire was exchanged during the entire 7 hour mission, everyone was extremely cooperative, the package did not make a fuss once like teenagers are supposedly wont to do, and at no point did Flag need the urge to kill her. Waller would have been disappointed.

Was this really what he and his team had been reduced to? Babysitting duty?

Plus he didn't get to kill anything, not even a damn mosquito, since the darn insects seemed to completely evaporate whenever they come within the vicinity of Katana's sword.

Before all this shit went down, which surprisingly is only about two and a half months ago, considering that Flag feels like he's aged about ten years since, he would have shot anyone who said that a time would come when he'd be missing the company of a psychotic bunch of murdering thugs. But here he was, standing in the middle of his crappy apartment furnished with only the barest essentials, staring out his window at the gorgeous view of the dark, dank alley below where a half-naked homeless man is currently relieving himself against a rather beautiful piece of graffiti work depicting Darth Vader in a pink tutu and a unicorn horn headband, while drinking his milk which is about four hours away from reallyspoiling, straight out of the carton. It's here that he finally realized, or finally learned to live with the fact that he did miss the company of his psychotic bunch of murdering thugs. They were his psychotic bunch of murdering thugs. Plus they kept things lively and by lively he means nine times out of ten he fantasized about shooting every single one of them in the face, especially Lawton and he was sure the feeling was more than mutual.

So how exactly did he find himself in this position? Enchantress' magic must still be at work, or June's retained some of her skill at mind warping and is secretly hiding behind a pillar fucking with him because obviously he doesn't remember making the request call to Waller. He couldn't have done it voluntarily right?

"Hey, Flag, you jackin' off back there? Shit got suspiciously quiet all of a sudden."

Seriously, why would he?

"Don't you project your perversion onto me, Lawton."

"I just gotta check, man, cause you know jerking off in unhygienic situations is the leading cause of sexually transmitted by floor disease."

Oh yeah, cause he's a sad pathetic human being who has zero life outside his work and zero friends outside his team. And maybe at a stretch, the targets on his missions for about two-point-five seconds before he blows their brains out. June at the very least still considers them friends; she just sent him a package in the mail with turned out to be a box full of unwashed clothes, some undergarments, a few socks and a packet of jelly beans. There was also a small note attached written by June that said 'I really didn't dump you, I know that's what you're thinking. I just need a little bit of time to just find myself again. We're just on a break' –classic signs of a dumping—'I still love you. P.S – I'm not dumping you, stupid.'

All in all it's a pretty pathetic resume.

"Just shut your mouth and eat your slider. You're lucky I didn't bring you back some long horn fried grasshopper."

"Well you know, they say nseneneis actually really good for the libido."

"Jesus Christ, why are you so interested in my libido all of a sudden?"

"Well when you're lookin' at three back-to-back life sentences in solitary confinement, you realize that there isn't that much shit to do with your time. Speaking of time, next time you come bring me some tamarind and an airtight metal container. I'll make you some moonshine that'll really put hair on your chest."

"Right because they'll let me walk right in with something that can be used as a weapon and a grocery bag full of tamarind."

"Well you can shove the tamarind in your pants, no one's gonna know the difference, and they'll come out freshly fermented too."

"Christ, man, I'll get you a porn mag so you can let out all this obviously pent up sexual energy."

The conversation wasn't something you'd usually have over White Castle sliders and soda, but then again the people having it couldn't be considered usual by any definition of the word either. Flag was sitting on his butt, legs stretched out on the cold white corridor floor of Belle Reve Penitentiary's lowest level (people who knew about it used to call it the seventh level of hell), back against the ten inch thick metal door separating him and Lawton. He couldn't see the other man, but he imagined him in a similar position.

"What you can do is bring me an issue of Guns and Ammo. Whichever's fine but try getting May. I saw it when we walked past a newsstand in the city and it was doing a sweet editorial on the Smith and Wessen M&P 10."

"I'm not bringing a gun magazine for you to jerk off to in your cell, man, what's wrong with you people?"

"I don't know why we have to keep having this conversation, Flag. In case you've forgotten, we're the bad guys. And looks who's the one concerned about libidos now huh? Pot and kettle, man. Pot and kettle."

"I'm seriously going to stop comin', man. Enjoy your slider cause it's gonna be your last."

"Why haven't you already?" Lawton asks and Flag stills.

Why hasn't he? It's a good question and truthfully, he doesn't know either.

"I don't know," he answers simply. The air in the place got real uncomfortable and deep, real fast. Flag wasn't really ready to let Lawton or any of them know that his life in the real world would decrease in excitement whenever they weren't around. He didn't want them to see how pathetic he really was since they needed to see him and respect him as a leader. "By the way, I saw Zoe a couple of days ago. She told me to tell you she aced her math exam again but got scolded by her teacher because apparently the angle trajectory of a bullet aimed to kill someone wasn't an acceptable example to provide," he could hear a derisive snort from the other side of the door and a muttered 'what the hell would she know'. "Also she started talking about this boy in school she liked and—"

Whatever Flag hoped to achieve with that last comment he did. Because he heard an ungraceful shuffling of feet, the cracking sound of paper being crumpled and a roar of 'Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!' before Lawton's enraged voice came projecting out of the small opening in the door above his head.

"What the fuck, Flag, are you fucking' with me? Little punk ass trying to take advantage of my daughter. My little girl, not in this life time! She's just a child and if she thinks this is acceptable behaviour, I mean what do we even know about this piece of shit little punk!"

"Geez, relax man," came Flags light-hearted and amused reply as he popped up into Lawton's line of sight, a cheeky grin on his stupid white boy face. "I was just messin' with you. She didn't say anything about a boy, I was just tryin' to piss you off, man."

Lawton was silent for a minute as he attempted to physically rearrange his thoughts. "Just messin—man, don't you ever joke about something like that, it's not funny!" Flag could see him pacing up and down his cell, massaging his knuckles. "My little girls just a child, man, she's just seven years old—"

"Isn't she eleven?"

"She's a child! You know how disgusting and evil boys can be. Don't you ever joke about that. I will claw my way out through this metal door to beat your stupid face in then I'm gonna eat all your fucking sliders."

"I'm sorry, I apologize," but the lopsided grin on his face indicated that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. "I won't joke about that again. But you know, there's this thing that kids do, I don't know if you've ever heard about it before, it's a pretty magical thing that's called growing. up. Eventually Zoe is gonna get all those boys in her yard."

"Man, shut the hell up. Seriously, shut. The. Fuck. Up. If ever there was a time that called for someone to stop talking immediately, it would be right now."

"Alright, I gotta cut and run anyway. Some of us who aren't wanted criminals actually have a life and responsibilities outside these walls." Flag bent down to pick up the empty food wrappers and gather the uneaten sliders, shoved them back in the plastic bag and shoved it through the opening of Lawton's cell. "Here, you can have mine."

"Yeah, you better run. Remember, I owe you an ass kickin'."

"We'll see, Lawton. You know, without your guns, you're just an average guy like us, only slightly more murder-y."

"Hey, Flag."

He stops as he's about to turn to leave, mentally ready for whatever insult or sexual innuendo Lawton's about to let fly.

"My friends call me Floyd," he says instead.

Not gonna lie, Flag's kind of touched, but he's not about to let the situation turn into some touchy-feely chick flick moment.

"My friends call me Colonel Flag," he says.

"I'm sure that's not true," Lawton says with a grin. "The fact that you actually have friends."

Flag can't help it, he laughs. "Exactly. The closest I have to a nick name is Waller calling me a little bitch when there's no one around."

Lawton laughs a genuine laugh and so does Flag.

"That lady is evil with a capital evil, man. And that's sayin' something comin' from us. Seriously tho is Amanda Waller short for Abaddon King of locusts?"

"I didn't know you were religious, Floyd. So does this mean we're friends now? Because I gotta tell you, I'm not keen on sleepovers. Especially considering your…living arrangements."

"Take it as you will, Colonel Flag. I did kill a Hebrew Cohen once for seven grand. That was chump change, but the asshole annoyed the shit out of me I would have done it for fucking free."

Flag wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten to the point in his social life where this conversation really didn't feel all that bizarre or even morally incorrect.

"You really are messed up."

"But seriously not as messed up as the guy who keeps on coming back to this hell hole for more."

"I guess that's true. Oh well, I guess I'll stop comin' then, I have better things to do anyway," he says with a nonchalant wave as he walks off and out of Lawton's line of sight.

"Don't forget the magazine next time, man, remember it's the May issue!"

He hears Lawton's voice calling from down the walkway and he can't help the small grin that breaks out on his face. He really is this pathetic.

Before he leaves he drops by to check on the others to see if they're being treated well. And by well he means that they're not getting the crap beaten out of them unless they truly deserved it. He can't have any member of his squad down just because a couple of trigger happy guards couldn't keep their hands off their batons. Although since their return to Belle Reve as the official saviours of the city, the guards have been a lot less hands on in their treatment. Generally they all go out of their way avoid dealing with the prisoners unless it's mandatory, plus Flag may or may not have insinuated that if even one member his squad is unable to perform their missions in the future because of something that happened at Belle Reve, then they were going to have to deal with him…and Waller. Flag was sure the latter was the name that really sold it.

He drops off a new album for KC by The Re-Stoned aptly titled Reptiles Return and a book for Diablo; How to take the Grrrr out of Anger. It's a children's book but the guy seemed to like it and to be honest, it makes Flag feel kind of glad, if not a little happy deep down. It's a good idea to stay on the good side of the guy who could burn the world to a crisp just by sneezing. It goes without saying that no one considered provoking Diablo ever again.

While Flag was by Diablo's cell—he'd finally allowed them to move him to a regular one since then and not the full metal cubbyhole he'd chosen to inhabit before, he noticed a poster on the wall and a couple of CD's lying around. Diablo noticed his gaze and said that GQ had been by a couple of times with gifts. Flag's immediate first thought was obviously the impenetrable hell hole that was Belle Reve was obviously no longer impenetrable since every Tom, Dick and Harry seems to be traipsing in and out with no problem. But on the other hand, obviously Waller had little problem with it because if there was one person whose authority could override even that of the Belle Reve director regarding visitors, it would be Amanda Waller. Flag was glad she was on their side, or at least, he was glad her own side coincided with theirs most of the time.

On the subject of GQ, obviously the guy was more than a little grateful for being alive and in his book saving someone from certain death obviously meant that they were now BFF's for life. At least that's the way GQ saw it but he's probably even more socially pathetic than Flag was.

While in Uganda, in between finishing the mission and trying not to die from utter boredom, Flag bought Quinn a bag of authentic, organic, hand roasted Ugandan coffee beans, which she accepted gleefully, pulling Flag rather viciously into the metal bars and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"You're welcome."

"I like you, colonel cupcake, you're nice," she purred.

"I'd appreciate if you don't call me that out in public, or ever again."

"Okie-dokie, cupcake," she answered, skipping off to brew her newly acquired coffee beans in the coffee machine he'd delivered on Waller's orders and completely ignoring Flag's presence from then on. Flag took it as a sign to am-scray.

As for Boomerang, one of the clean-up crew at ground zero had confusedly found the fluffy unicorn plushie right in the midst of the battle zone and brought it to his attention while he was there making sure that there was no secondary threats or dangerous residual energy left behind from the battle.

The poor guy had been absolutely, almost hilariously distraught when he lost it. Flag wasn't sure whether his anguish in jail was because he was being incarcerated for three lifetimes or because he lost his doll.

He supposed he was about to find out as he slid open the small opening in the door and threw the doll in.

For a few seconds there was silence, and all of a sudden he heard a deep, shrill, wail being emitted from inside the cell. It didn't sound human, or even animal. It sounded raw and deep and guttural, like it wasn't even a sound coming out of someone's mouth, more like it was leaking out his very soul. Whatever it was, Flag imagined the scene inside was even more sickening and quickly closed the latch and trudged off. When the sound of wet blubbering reached his ears even through the closed door, he was sure the decision to get the fuck out of there as quickly as he could was indeed the right one.

He suddenly noticed a weight in the left breast pocket of his jacket and he remembered the clean-up crew guy had also found a silver cross along with the unicorn doll; a silver cross on a chain he was pretty sure he saw Lawton putting on when he was getting changed. He was going to ask him about it today, but between the sliders and the sex talk, he'd completely forgotten about it. Next time then. Flag didn't really want to think about how much he was looking forward to that next time.

Katana was waiting for him outside when he exited. Her expression was as cold as ice but somehow the aura around her was knowing and all too cheerful and it annoyed the shit out of Flag.

"Shut up," he instructed, even though she hadn't said anything.

She fell into step behind him as they walked out the gates of Belle Reve Penitentiary. For a few moments neither of them said anything and Flag was hoping that maybe she'd actually let this one slide. Instead, she'd just lulled him into a false sense of security.

"Tanoshikatta desu ka?"

"Urusai."

Flag could feel her smirk boring a hole into a back of his skull. He suddenly felt nostalgic for the time when his men, now consisting of only Katana and GQ, still looked at him with fear and respect and didn't give snide comments or smart ass answers. It's one of the downside of hanging with the bad guys, their bad attitude tend to rub off.

"Meirei da, shitagae."

"Sou desu ka?"

Yup, definitely rubbed off.

tbc.

My Japanese speaking skills comes from 10 plus years of watching anime, meaning, I'm not that good, just so you know.

If anyone wants to follow me on tumblr, I'm at reivenesque.