So this has rather been a long time coming. This story-in-progress has been... let's say elsewhere on the internet/em for a while now, and I completely forgot I had a account until stumbling upon an email by complete chance. So here it is, on here. I'll try and remember to update on this website as well as the other, but no promises. I'm forgetful at the best of times.
But I get ahead of myself. As you can likely guess, I was disappointed with how swiftly the characters at the start of this film were merc'd on that beach. This is a fix-it of sorts - there is still death, dear reader - from the perspective of everyone's favourite imbecile, Blackguard. I've been doing some reading up on Blackguard's powers and some of it is stuff I'd never have expected just by going on physical appearance. Much like TDK, I suppose. Sure is a shame we never got to see them.
But now I'm just keeping you here too long. Onto the reading.
"Prospective members of Task Force X need to be in perfect health, Warden" Amanda said bluntly, keeping perfect pace with the man despite him being a foot taller than her. "How did he end up in the medical wing two weeks ago?"
The warden, a heavyset man with gelled hair, swallowed as he guided them towards Hertz's cell. "Uh… he mouthed off to a guard, then slipped and broke his nose."
It was clear that he was rattling off a pre-prepared lie, but she was willing to look past the barely-feasible façade. She wasn't too heartless; many guards at Belle Reve had lost family or friends to the psychopaths and criminals they were paid to watch over. If she could get away with reducing their sentences, they could be allowed to relieve some of their anger every once in a while.
The cell door opened with a buzz as the Warden slipped his card through the scanner, allowing Waller entry first. She stayed by the door. This wasn't a social call.
"Richard Hertz" she said simply, not one to waste time on small talk.
Hertz winced slightly as he pulled his face out of his pillow and his eyes adjusted to the light.
"…yeah?" he said groggily. "It's like, three in the morning."
"It's five o' clock in the afternoon and I want to talk to you about something."
He squinted slightly.
"I know you. You're that woman with the suicide squad, aren't you?"
"The official term is Task Force X" Waller bristled. "A black ops unit made of criminals with little to no hope of release within their life time. I'm sure you know where this conversation is going."
"Yeah, kinda. You want a big-shot like me to help the kiddies out, right?"
"You are no big-shot, Hertz. Barely anyone around here knows you, even in this cell block. Those who do aren't very impressed."
"They should be. I got a whip."
"You've got an attitude."
"I also got a whip."
"Which you cannot carry in prison and is therefore irrelevant. Either way, we're getting side-tracked. This" she said, pulling an image out of the briefcase she'd brought with her and tossing it across the room, "is Corto Maltese. I have a black ops mission that needs to be carried out. In case you didn't know the deal: complete the mission, you get ten years off your sentence. Disobey my orders, get yourself captured, hell, mildly irritate me and I detonate the explosive device you will have implanted in the base of your skull."
"You gonna tell me what this mission actually is?"
"Accept the offer and you will be briefed on it tomorrow. Otherwise, there is no reason for me to tell you anything."
"Goddamn, lady… alright, I'll join."
"Good." Not that she expected any other answer.
Firstly, Hertz was young and friendless, eager to make a name for himself. If he died, it would just be another body on the pile.
And secondly, he was stupid. That made him ideal for the "special job" she needed doing.
"Your warden will come and collect you in the morning. Kindly try to avoid falling onto your nose again before then."
She heard something between a scoff and a grumble as she walked out.
He wasn't as desperate as she knew other candidates would be; most of his fraud and murder charges were covered up by the "1,000" organisation he'd worked for. She allowed herself the wry thought of him telling his new squad mates that he was mostly serving time for several counts of public indecency. Not nearly as impressive in criminal circles.
p :/p
Dick tried not to fidget under his outfit. The meeting room was warm, that was all.
After having a crate full of his stuff shoved at him ("Here you go, Dick-less", one of the guards had sneered at him – yes, he knew just about every penis joke in the book about now) and a rather painful needle shoved into the back of his neck, he'd been frog-marched down to an auditorium where a whole host of weirdos were already waiting.
He'd ended up sitting next to some guy picking at his teeth, who wore a beanie hat and spoke with an Australian accent so ridiculous, Dick could have sworn he was having him on.
"Bloody hell. Hey, Waller, this meeting gonna come to order before we all die of old age, or what?"
"In a moment, Harkness" Waller responded evenly, sorting through a few documents that had been projected onto the screen.
"Hey, buddy." Dick turned to his left to see some guy in the row behind him, face clad in what looked like a blue swim cap with eye holes cut out. "What have you been picked for?"
Dick settled for a shrug, hoping it made him seem humbler. If there was one thing time in prison had taught him, it was that boastfulness never ended well, regardless of whether it was towards fellow inmate or guard.
"Got two guns, an energy whip, a shield… got cool hair, I look good in a swimsuit. You?"
The guy smirked slightly. "Name's TDK."
"…and?"
"And what?"
"What were you picked for?"
"You'll see." And he settled back in his chair, clearly under the impression that he was soon to give Dick a real treat.
TDK. That was an acronym. Or maybe just his initials. Dick had no clue what they stood for, though, he'd never been too good at school. His Mum had always been sure to remind him of that.
The man sitting three seats down from TDK looked rather tense, his eyes darting around the room like he was expecting guards to come smashing through the floorboards and ambush him. Dick may not have been the smartest guy on Earth, but he knew that long, straight hair like that wasn't ideal in a fistfight. The red jacket didn't make him any less of an obvious target, either.
He stole a quick glance to the other side of the room. Maybe the kraut with the yellow spandex and barge pole was there solely to make him look less ridiculous by comparison.
"What are you staring at, blondie?" the guy snapped in a raspy voice, like he'd smoked six packs a day since the age of twelve. Oops. Lost in thought, Dick had clearly been staring directly at him for too long.
"Hi, I'm Blackguard" he said, at a loss for anything else to say. He needed to remember that they were only using their made-up names from here on in. Blackguard was open to less puns and ridicule than Dick Hertz, anyway.
The guy just impassively blew the air out through his nose and looked away. So he was one of those people, huh.
Realising the lights had been dimmed slightly, he turned back to face the board, eyes on an image of a regal-looking family. The rulers of Corto Maltese, apparently. Then Waller seemed to get a kick out of explaining just how violently they were overthrown and executed. Even the kids weren't spared.
On that happy note, the image changed to show a rather sinister-looking tower.
The white-haired dude snorted. "Subtle."
"This is Jotunheim" Waller said in a clipped tone of voice. "An old Nazi research facility guarded 24/7 by the Corto Maltese military. Your goal is to enter and destroy every trace of what is known as "Project Starfish"".
Starfish? Sounded lame. He'd kind of hoped they'd be stealing some cool alien guns or something.
"Ain't that some term for an arsehole?" the Australian sniggered. "Any connection there you wanna tell us about?"
No-one else laughed, though what Dick had initially mistaken for a giant mound of hair in the first row made a slight choking noise.
"…no" Waller cut across the silence, her tone of voice advising against any further attempts at humour. "This project could prove dangerous to the US should the island's new government decide to use it. Whilst the Herrera family were strict rulers, they struck up deals with us for the sake of peace. The likes of President Luna, however, have not."
She flicked to the next slide.
Dick double-checked the image, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He'd seen junkies before, but he'd never heard of someone who injected the stuff directly into their brains. Hardcore.
"This is your way in. Doctor Gaius Greaves, also known as the Thinker, is the scientist in charge of overseeing the Project. On the evenings, he often frequents a gentleman's club called La Gatita Amable and is well-known amongst the… staff there."
"Huh?" Dick said, more as a reflex than anything. Anyone in a five-mile radius could likely smell the distaste in her voice, but he didn't get why.
"Strippers, Hertz."
The Australian guy looked a bit too eager as he sat up a little straighter in his chair.
"None of you get any ideas" she added, as if knowing exactly what was going through the man's mind. "You will be there to retrieve this asset and then you will be gone. I have no need of timewasters. Any questions?"
Silence for a few seconds. Dick opened his mouth.
"Good" she said, either not noticing or just not caring. "Your commanding officer will be Colonel Rick Flag."
A broad-shouldered man stepped from the shadows, dressed in standard-issue military gear, minus a helmet. Dick could relate: sometimes you just didn't want to ruin your hair, even if it did mean risking a bullet.
"Welcome to Task Force X" he said, sounding at least slightly happier to see them. Waller had already left the room without another word, the only sign she was ever there being the swinging door. "In case any of you wondering about callsigns, you'll be using your standard aliases. Let's run you through them."
He pointed at each person in the seats as he rattled off the names. If Dick was to remember anything from today, it had to be this. "Javelin, Captain Boomerang, Mongal, Blackguard, TDK, Savant and Weasel."
The mound of hair coughed again. Dick no longer felt alone in wondering just what it was or which pit of Hell it had crawled out from.
p :/p
Dick was asked to stay behind after the presentation. He stood in the empty auditorium for a few minutes, briefly wondering whether this was one last nightstick-session with the guards after he threw that toilet roll at Officer Griggs' head last week.
Then Waller re-appeared. He hadn't even heard the door open, so she'd probably just walked through the wall like the Devil himself. She was flanked by a fat guy with what Dick could only describe as paedophile glasses and an ugly plaid shirt - he didn't need to get close to know the accompanying BO would likely knock him out.
Dick was in prison and still got a shower at least twice a week. What was this guy's excuse?
"I have a special task for you, Hertz."
The temptation to say good to see you too, Miss Waller was marred only by his desire to not potentially suffer a slow and painful death.
"Yeah?" he simply said instead.
"When you arrive at the drop-off point at Corto Maltese, I need you to cause a distraction. Be loud. Get the military's attention. Pretend you've betrayed your team in a deal with them."
"But I don't want to betray the team. They're pretty nice."
"You've known them for all of twenty-five minutes."
"Well, I mean… I still don't want them to kill me for selling them out."
"If you survive, we can discuss that issue later."
He didn't really like the sound of that.
"Hang on, if I survive…?"
"You will be faking a surrender, Hertz. Given the predilections of the Corto Maltese government, it is likely you will be shot at."
Dick swallowed thickly.
"…I'm not too sure I like this task."
"You're federal property, Hertz. Your opinion doesn't really matter. I felt it only fair that you are at least forewarned of this decision before having to follow it through."
"Gee, thanks."
"Just be ready when you arrive at the beach."
He looked at the fat guy standing to her left, trying to read his face for some kind of help. He didn't get any.
Maybe he should ring his lawyer before he leaves, just to make sure he has a will written up.
And that's chapter one. If you enjoyed, naturally, leave a comment. Understand that this is a habit of mine, comment-soliciting, and so you can expect to see it after every chapter. I crave approval more than my next meal.
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