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"You're sure about this? Understood. Thanks you for your continued work. We'll speak later."

Down went the phone receiver and up stood Amanda Waller. Without even an instance's hesitation, she was leaving her office, stalking her way to Director Bordeaux. Over the past several hours, so much intel was coming in, both through official, unofficial, and top-secret channels. She herself was overwhelmed with it all, but she would not show a single ounce of weakness.

She had a job to do, plain and simple. The latest piece of intel was too important to sit on. It needed immediate action, if not decisions. This was a major game changer and A.R.G.U.S. needed to be ready for the fallout.

The Wall found the Director in her office, finishing up with the latest updates from Trevor. Waller barely gave her counterpart in the agency a glance, her eyes only for Bordeaux as well as her words. "There's been a new development."

"Everything's a new development right now," Bordeaux quipped back, not even glancing at her phone stand. Various green and red lights flashed from the small console, so many people wanting to speak with the Director.

"Then maybe this may change your mind. Superman has just declared war on Batman."

Now there were two pairs of eyes on her, staring. Shock, disbelief, surprise, it was written all over their faces, but now was not the time for it.

To her credit, Bordeaux was quick to recover. "Trevor: the door."

Snapped out of his stupor, Trevor responded, also to his credit, and now it was the three of them cut off from the world. That also included the phone on Bordeaux's desk.

"Details," Bordeaux ordered, leaning forward in her seat and boring her dark eyes into Waller.

"Exactly that. Superman has quite literally declared war on a vigilante from Gotham. The Justice League has begun to fall into civil war with itself. There are various members who were missing during the declaration, but knowing how Batman operates, it can be safe to assume that he's been doing some recruiting of his own. As of now, the prominent members Flash and Wonder Woman are currently missing."

"Wonder Woman's missing?" Trevor repeated. His concern was as obvious as the sun at midday.

"Missing as in she has not been seen since that broadcast earlier, the one that we are still dealing with," the dark-skinned operative deadpanned. "She, however, is not the only one. Flash has been missing for much longer following the alleged incident at Gotham State."

"Without so much as a sighting either. He's either better at hiding than we thought, or he's been running at supersonic speeds this entire time," Bordeaux concluded.

"Not since Desmond, Swift, and Faust were apprehended. Green Lantern's attempt to murder Swift has made it difficult to trace him," Waller confirmed.

"So anywhere, if only for a second," Bordeaux sighed. Then in a more frustrated tone of voice, "What the hell is going on here? First, we have Desmond, Swift, and Faust released from prison to wreak havoc; this Legion of Doom shows up out of nowhere; the Justice League is thinking about becoming judge, jury, and executioner; and now we have Superman declaring war on a person. What are we missing?"

Which was a perfectly valid question. Waller was not stupid; she had figured out long ago that none of this was coincidence. All of it was connected because you could not remove one without somehow changing the others. Without those would-be godhood seekers, it was unlikely the Legion would have presented itself. Without the Legion, there would be no fractures within the League.

With this level of coincidence, someone out there had to be pulling the strings, and if nothing else, that little broadcast cinched it. It had served to further strain the League without fully breaking it. Something had happened, recently, because now why was Superman declaring war?

Waller had her doubts about the alien being the victim of a would-be assassination. His abilities only made him immune to all assassination attempts outside of the most ludicrous of plans. To even mark him, you needed at the minimum some green-glowing kryptonite, and that was difficult to find even in the best of circumstances.

It was also common knowledge that the Batman did not go out of his way to kill others. Maim, injure, and scare shitless, yes. Not kill. Never kill. Even when the kill would have been justified, no.

Why would Batman choose out of nowhere to try and kill Superman? How did he benefit from doing so? Sorry, armchair detectives, but she was far from buying a love triangle as a motivation.

"So right now, we have to count on this mess getting bigger and messier," Bordeaux said, looking to her and then to Trevor. "We need to have our crews ready for clean up. I'll authorize for overtime because we're going to need it. In the meantime, I need you two, as well as the rest of the agency, to figure out what the hell is going on because this can't keep going on."

In this, they were in agreement. "Task Force X may be able to do more if I can loosen their leash some more," Waller suggested.

"Do we really need to?" Trevor cut in.

"Yes," she stated without giving anything else. Let it not be said that the best way to track down a super-criminal was to sic another super-criminal on their tail. Task Force X had been able to track the wannabe gods to that museum and had laid in hiding while everything went down undetected. Whether it was testament to their skills, or the League was already off its game, who's to say?

Thanks to her task force, much of their current up-to-date intel was just that.

"I want to say you're joking since this is about leashes," Bordeaux commented, "but you know how to work these people, and so far they haven't disappointed. Whatever the game is, we need to either start knocking out pieces, or turning them." There was a pause. "Very well," the Director finally relented. "Since the situation with the League is becoming volatile, and I don't want to play our full hand to them, we'll focus on the other. Have the task force apply pressure to the Legion. Grab whoever you have to, turn who you need to, but we need to sink them. If nothing else, it will give everyone one less thing to worry about."

Waller felt herself standing taller. "Understood. I will issue the new orders."

Say what you wanted about Bordeaux, but the Director knew when to get things done when the pressure was up. Trevor could be allowed to be pining over the missing Amazon, but as long as he stayed out of her way, he could continue to do so.

"Trevor, see if you can't track down Wonder Woman. Maybe she might be able to cast some new light on the situation," Bordeaux continued. "Work like your lives depend on it, people. If civil war in the League is what we're dealing with, it may very well be the case."

Nicely put.

Turning on her heel, Waller marched her way out. She had a team to brief.


It had been some time since any kind of instruction had come down the pipeline, Ultra Humanite noted.

They were down three members and soon after that their efforts had stalled. That was not a welcome turn of events, especially with a number of individuals here who by nature were impulsive.

"Yo, Gorilla man. We need to talk."

And homicidal as well.

It was Killer Frost who had called out to him and she had quite a few of the Legion members with her. Humanite remained calmed and kept her hands behind his back. No sense in giving away any anxiety he may have.

The hallway, though long, was curved, and so it took a little time before the gathered members reached him. He could pick out Volcana, Silver Banshee, Metallo, and King Shark, a squad of five whom had eyes only for him. With his arms behind his back, the former-human-turned-mutated-gorilla waited for the assembly to walk—well, more like march—its way to him.

"Of what service may I be able to help with?" Humanite asked calmly.

"Things have gotten boring around here," Volcana drawled as she crossed her arms. "What's the next plan? When are we going to have some action?"

"I do believe you mentioned a prison break. However, ever since those other three left, there's been nothing. Don't tell me you've gotten spooked," Metallo picked up, his faux human eye narrowed at him.

How to go about this? He knew that the members of this Legion were getting restless. From being able to run circles about the League, leaving them helpless, to doing absolutely nothing had to be grating for them. That they were demanding words now and not going for his head meant there was room for negotiation.

"There is a difference between being spooked and being cautious," Humanite answered the challenge. "There have been quite a few developments with the League, and ones that I am very interested in. It seems that our efforts have been baring fruit much sooner than anticipated; the League has already begun to fracture."

"And should that not be the time to strike?" Metallo argued, his voice slightly rising.

Humanite allowed a smile to show first before answering. "I like the initiative, striking while the iron is still hot, but this is more an art than a science. The League may be fracturing now, this is true; however, we ourselves are recently split as well, so recent that we may undo our efforts by providing a common enemy that unites the League again."

Metallo was staring him down, but out of all of them he was the one most willing to listen to reason. One right explanation and the killing machine would back down.

"So what? The League's off limits now?" Volcana demanded, her red hair wisping much like a flame.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said about the rest.

"I'm not here to sit on my ass!" King Shark declared. "You promised money! I'm not seeing it."

Some could appreciate the grander scheme, but there were always those that could never see beyond their own nose. When recruiting from a pool of super-criminals, you were bound to find someone that, while having some power, had an ambition fit for a pond and not an ocean.

"And it's boring sitting around here with nothing to do," Killer Frost added. Her cold eyes were looking him up and down now. "Though, I can think of a few things to lighten things up."

"Your impatience is understandable, especially since we've been winning. However, I do understand the need to act. Rushing in, though, will cause more problems in the long run—"

"So why not something small that can give a little exercise?" Volcana interrupted. "I'm here for action, nothing else. If you're not going to give me any, then I'll go find some."

Humanite wanted to shut his eyes and sigh, but that was not a sign of weakness he wanted to show. They would pick up on it and, much like King Shark, go into a frenzy over it. So how to do this? How to throw them the proverbial bone and still have some authority without risking the integrity of the plan?

Some things were just too obvious. In fact, King Shark had unknowingly given some inspiration.

"Perhaps a heist is in order," he mused out loud, acting thoughtful. "An infusion of capital to help make the time pass. I do believe we can figure out something in short order."

"We gettin' our hands on some cash, hmm?" King Shark's mouth was split open, showing off a gleaming row of sharp teeth.

"That and taunting the League while we're at it," Humantie added. "A little something to undermine their confidence and allow a little time for some exercise. Give me one hour and I'll find you a nice little prize."

There were quite a few smiles, though Silver Banshee remained silent and impassive. She must be just bored and willing to let the others speak for her.

"Count me out," Metallo said, already turning on his heels and walking away.

"Oh, and miss all the fun?" Volcana cooed.

"I have better things to do than a robbery. It's all yours," the robot quipped back before the sight of him slipped away around the curve of the hallway.

"Your loss," Killer Frost chuckled.

"Well, if you need another head, feel free to find anyone willing to help," Humanite offered. "But let's keep it small, shall we? As a challenge."

"Drop the fancy talk, just point me where I need to go," Killer Shark cut in.

Sigh. Sometimes it did feel like he was surrounded by those who did not appreciate the art.


There were many surprises that lay in wait in the Tower of Fate. Considering it was a place outside of space and time, one would think even the laws of physics were subject to change.

So it was something as mundane as wireless service that ended up being the most surprising.

Zatanna jolted where she stood the moment her ringtone went off, her eyes wide before blinking in bewilderment. Cautiously, she reached into a pocket and pulled out her cell phone. The pocket itself was small, almost impractical due to fashion industry standards, but magic went a long way into enchanting it with a literal pocket dimension so she could hold anything and everything she wanted—a girl's literal dream.

Just to be clear though, the fact she was getting phone service outside of space and time was the strange part here, not the incredible pocket dimension.

The caller I.D was blank, so she had no idea who was calling her. Part of her wondered if this was a marketer trying to see if she liked her long-distance provider—a big fat yes considering the situation—or maybe it was the "I.R.S." trying to bully her into paying unpaid taxes again unless she gave all of her bank account information. Yeah, she had dealt with the I.R.S before and they hadn't caught up to the modern day advances of email, or even the telephone yet. She was pretty certain they were still using the Pony Express if their letters were anything to go by.

Answering the phone, she wearily said, "Hello?"

"Zana, it's me."

Well, perhaps this shouldn't have been as surprising as she had been making it out to be. Trust Bruce to find a way to bend the realities of inter-dimensional physics to his whim. "Bruce," she warmly returned the greeting. "Do you know you have the incredible knack of answering questions I didn't even knew I had?"

"Not the time, Zana," Bruce replied grumpily. Now, Bruce was normally a grumpy guts in his own right, but he sounded grumpier than usual. That was her first clue that something was up. "I need you to transport me and Cassandra to you."

"A one-way ticket to the Tower of Fate coming right up!" Zatanna quipped before turning off her phone. Shoving the phone back into her awesome pocket, she made a show of pulling down the cuffs of her sleeves, a gesture that went unnoticed since she was all by her lonesome. Taking in and then releasing a calming breath, she summoned her magical energies before chanting, "Namtab dna Lrigtab ot eht Rowot fo Etaf."

A portal of white light immediately opened in front of her, bathing her in its glow. A moment later and Batman and Batgirl passed through, their appearance immediately captured the dark-haired woman's attention.

Both of them were dirty and grimy, Bruce more so than his daughter. Cass had perhaps a light dusting of dirt on her costume while Bruce looked as if he had splashed through a mud pit. He was also more tired-looking, which was not a good sign. "What happened to you?" she questioned as her portal shrank in on itself before vanishing from sight.

"The Justice League happened," Batman answered her as he took a seat on a nearby griffin statue. The statue was of Egyptian origins, so it had a long back that made for a makeshift bench.

Immediately, Zatanna was at his side, pressing her hands on him as she went in search of any injuries. Even Bruce had to grunt from sore spots if she pressed hard enough. A small part of her marveled at her response, a habit she had developed back when she had reunited with the dark-haired man after years of radio silence and teen angst. He was the only man she did this for, though; yet, she couldn't help herself.

"I'm not hurt," Bruce told her, eyeing her from the corner of his eye.

"You look as if you've been tossed around, most likely from whomever the League sent after you, and you don't have so much as a throbbing pinky toe?" Zatanna retorted as she continued her inspection. "Excuse me if I don't believe you."

"I took the 5-U-93-R, so I'm fine."

That...must have meant something, but Zatanna, for the life of her, couldn't figure out why. She figured that meant she didn't have to do her full body search, which was rather disappointing, but c'est la vie. "You gonna tell me what happened then?"

Bruce grunted, his version of a sigh, she supposed. "I was in the Cave when Superman, Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl paid me a visit. They were trying to take me out of the game, but this one here—" at this he shot a look at Cassandra, who didn't look the least bit put out by being called out, "—decided instead of following my instructions, she would get into a mech suit and fight them."

"I'd do it again," Cassandra retorted.

The look Bruce gave the girl with withering. If there had been any plants, they would have died from such a look.

The teenage girl wasn't fazed in the least.

"So you two fought three of the Founders, including Superman," Zatanna prodded, trying to get the rest of the story. "How did that go, assuming your costumes aren't evidence of what happened?"

"I had to blow up the Cave for the two of us to get out of there."

Zatanna blinked her eyes. "Blow up? As in you destroyed it?"

"And probably my house with it," Bruce added regretfully. "The two of us got trapped in one of the lower caverns, which is why I called you."

The dark-haired woman took in a deep breath. Why was it whenever Bruce called out for help, it was usually because he was so in over his head that you'd have to crawl through a mile of shit just to see daylight? "At least you two are alright," she ended up settling on. It was over, so there was little use in getting frustrated, even if she wanted to shout at the man for not calling for backup as soon as he freaking could!

"For now. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to do half of what I wanted to do in the Cave. I got in touch with Red Robin and so far he's doing his best to keep the Titans out of this. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to make any progress on the broadcast."

"Then I've got news for you," Zatanna interjected, a grin on her face. "While you were out brawling, the rest of us have been hard at work. We found the source of the broadcast transmission."

Bruce stood up from his stony seat, his full attention on her. "Who?"

Part of the magician wanted to draw out the suspense. It was the showwoman in her, but that same showwoman also knew there was a time and place and this wasn't it. So she answered in the simplest way she could. "Luthor."

Bruce's eyes narrowed, his jaw slowly clenching tightly. The gears in his head were turning. "He must have gotten his hands on the footage on Brainiac's ship when we were on it."

And that was a step too far for her. "What does Brainiac have to do with this?"

"When Brainiac invaded, he managed to hack the Cave's computer and made a digital copy of everything on it. That included the file with the future footage."

Ah, so that made sense. And Luthor got his grubby hands on it, waited for the right moment to hurt the League with it, and broadcasted a mashup of the most controversial scenes. "So what's the plan?" she couldn't help but ask.

"We need to pay Luthor a visit," Bruce said as he began to move between and then past the two women. "Sooner rather than later."


Ultra Humanite was coming through. They had a job and there was a lot of money involved. Also, there was the chance to...have a little fun.

It was a casino, one all the way in Atlantic City. Such places were loaded, people freely throwing all their cash into it, all for the thrill, all for the chance of hitting it big, getting the rush that came with willing a bet, or gamble, or whatever.

Just like Volcana, Frost was more interested in action. Yes, the money was good, and tended to distract from more pleasurable things, like heat. But when you couldn't get your fix, money was as good a replacement as anything.

Now this was to be a heist, so being flashy was out of the question unless they had no choice. Sure, that put Volcana in a mood, but Silver Banshee and King Shark understood. She wasn't so sure about that zombie man, Solomon Grundy. They had felt they needed a little extra muscle, which pissed Shark off, but who cared?

Casino security was made for the nobodies, the little people who were like ants and just as annoying. None of it was ready for a group like them. Freezing a side of the building and letting Grundy break his way through was how they entered. Cutting off the power was next so that no alerts were coming in, though extra effort was needed to take out the backup generators.

Volcana and King Shark got to shine with security, which didn't last long. That left Frost and Banshee to cover their rears while they headed for the counting room. Sure, there was always the vault and everything, but really, with the amount of cash that flowed through one of these places, the vault was only where the real important stuff was kept. Plus, with everything going digital, keeping huge stacks of cash there was going the way of the dinosaurs.

But that didn't stop people from bringing cash and that was where the counting room came in. All the money needed to be counted up and it was a steady cash flow that lasted all night. This was the best time to intercept some dollar bills and a lot of them. Also, it was less secured than a vault.

The counting room was full because it was night and people loved to gamble at night. Counting machines were at work without stopping, needing only humans to slip stacks of them out so that the counting could continue. Thousands were coming through a minute, millions over the course of a night. They piled onto counters and carts, sitting there all sweet and ready to be taken.

It may not be heat, but Frost felt that this much cash would be keeping her warm tonight.

"That's a lot," King Shark committed, little eyes blinking as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

"I wonder why no one's come to this part of the casino before," Volcana mused.

"Their loss, our gain," Frost stated, smirking.

Before she could say anything else, Grundy trudged past her and filled his massive hands with thousands of bills. "Grundy's money," the zombie man grunted.

He might be a dead man, but that didn't mean he had bad ideas. "He's on the right track. Let's make this quick and get out," the icy killer ordered.

They didn't have enough duffel bags for this, but then again they weren't here for all of it. It just needed to be enough to get the League tipping on their tippy toes and no more. Nothing to flare up some tempers like a boogeyman that was still showing you up. Again, she added to herself.

It was so easy carrying in the empty bags. They just folded in on themselves, no problem, and you could carry a bunch like that. But now they were going to fill them up, which meant someone was going to have to carry them. Looking to King Shark and Grundy, she smirked to herself as she already figured out that solution. Alright, time for some pay dirt.

"Load up everybody! Grab as much as you can!" Volcana crowed as she matched actions to words, grabbing any and all stacks of cash she could. The sounds of stacks of bills being picked up, slapped against one another, and crammed passed zippers were the only sounds then, unless you counted Grundy's breathing. Zombie man was filling his pockets and not the bags, figures.

They were about halfway through filling the bags when things began to take an odd turn. It wasn't noticeable at first, at least not for Frost. She had been in the middle of snatching up another empty duffel, the bag already unzipped to save time, and was reaching out to grab more dollar stacks when instead of grabbing them, she knocked some to the floor.

Huh, she thought she had been reaching higher. Leaning down, she tried to snatch up one of the fallen stacks when she wobbled and her hand missed. Feeling a little frustrated, she tried to snatch it except the floor was...something.

It was suppose to be solid, flat. Not...why was it moving? Wobbling? And the stacks of bills were moving the top of the stack to the left and the bottom to the right, and yet staying still at the same time. It was giving her quite the headache.

Putting a hand to her head, Frost stood up and nearly lost her center of balance as she leaned too far back. Her feet stumbled and she caught herself against a money-filled cart, accidentally pushing it and losing her balance as a result. That just made things so much worse, and in the corner of her eyes, she noted the others seemed to be having trouble standing too.

"Money troubles? I thought the Legion of Doom was doing better."

It was a male voice and it wasn't Grundy, or King Shark. Frost tried whipping her head about—a huge mistake—and it took much too long to find they had company. Standing in front of the door to the counting room was a man in gray and red, an arm held up where some kind of gun barrel extended from the wrist. Also of note was a large red lens over one of his eyes.

The gunshot that followed put her on high alert even with the disorientation. Grundy's head jerked back, though no blood splattered. Everyone jumped for cover and failed, running into money stacks and carts and all sorts of things they were all too good to run into. What was happening? What was that bastard doing to them?

"It seems metahumans are not immune either. Vith enough exposure, they too succumb. Perhaps this Legion is overrated."

A new voice, accented, sounded German. And there the new bastard was, in gray with a cape and an eyepiece with a green lens. Just looking at it made everything so much worse and Frost found herself leaning forward, bracing her arms on the floor as she vomited.

"Just keep it on them, Vertigo. We'll handle the rest," the first party pooper ordered as he took several more shots at Grundy. The zombie man's body jerked, but he did not fall. There was a growl and then the massive body of flesh began charging, though it was right tilted and moving away from the two crashers.

Speaking of crashers, a third one literally did that through a wall. This one had a red upper body and yellow lower, and he was letting out a battle cry that was not helping with the headache. He rammed into Grundy and carried the zombie off his feet, zooming overhead to the other side of the wall.

Last, but not least, several spinning things flew through the air and one struck her on her forehead. Frost gave a cry as she fell back, gripping her head. Forcing an eye opened, she searched for what hit her and found lying on the floor next to her was a boomerang.

"Got that Sheila dead ta rights! Who can I get next?"

What was up with all the damn accents?!

Flinging up an arm, Frost froze the air in front of her, creating a wall of ice to shield her while she got her bearings. Okay, okay, that was so much better. Whatever that Vertigo asshole was doing, it was weaker now.

The third guy in red and yellow was throwing punch after punch into Grundy, not letting up once. Grundy was halfway through the wall by now, not recovering yet—wait, spoke too soon. A massive hand caught a yellow-colored fist, the zombie growling at an unimpressed red face.

Banshee interrupted then, her scream slamming into the soon to be red and yellow corpse. Off he went, slamming into a wall himself, but not breaking through yet. The scream ended only for Volcana to coat the guy in a blaze of fire.

"Oh yeah. Burn, baby, burn!" the pyromaniac sneered, not letting up on her flame.

Much to Frost's surprise, the red and yellow bastard tore out of the flames and through the steady stream of fire that Volcana had yet to end. It took one hit and Volcana was sent flying backwards across the room. Then without missing a bit, the man's yellow-colored waist turned and a balled up fist swung to collide with King Shark's jaw. Shark had been running at the two-colored man and the force of his charge combined with the opposing force of the fist had the large fish man tumbling over himself while still moving forward. Legs were ahead of the torso, the head was bouncing about, and then the body ran into the ice wall.

It happened so fast, but two of them were down. Who were these people?

A detonation rocked the ice wall, chucks of ice falling all around Frost. The disorientation returned, just as bad as before.

"You better not have killed him, Force. We need them to talk."

"We only need one to talk," Force, the guy who was red and yellow, retorted. "The others made their choices. Bad ones. They're not worth the effort."

Now that was prickling her pride. Glaring in spite of the disorientation, Frost swung out an arm and a spike of ice slammed into Force. He gave out a cry, the first one he ever gave, but he was quick to recover. He flipped his body over itself and once upright glared at her. Banshee came to the rescue once more, her shriek knocking Force off his feet once more.

A gunshot had Banshee shutting up if only because the bullet grazed her throat, her eyes wide. Frost threw a flurry of icicles at the two men behind her and went into a run, heading for Banshee. There wasn't even a swear, or curse spoken by either of them, which peeved the icy killer off.

Abruptly, she ducked her head under a boomerang, and gave a swear herself. There was a fourth one, she had almost forgotten and—

One of her arms clad itself in ice and she jerked it up to her side to stop the returning boomerang before it hit her. That had been something else she had forgotten. Damn it!

There came several more, and while it was great hassle dodging them all, Frost was able to reach Banshee and snap at her, "We gotta ditch. Get out of here!"

Banshee gave a nod and whipped her head about, unleashing another scream which caved in a wall and gave them a brand new exit to use. Fast thinking, that. Noticing how close Volcana was to the new hole, Frost detoured slightly while ducking under several more boomerangs, freezing them before they circled back, and snagged the pyromaniac's wrist to drag her behind her.

"Grundy, get the hell out of here!" she yelled to the zombie man who by now had managed to tear himself out of the wall he had been punched into. Whether he understood or not, Grundy mindlessly turned back the crater his body had once been pounded into and began to punch his way deeper into it. Debris from the ceiling began to fall, blocking the zombie man from sight, so Frost decided to take a page out of that book for herself.

With Banshee running past her, and Volcana still being dragged behind her, Frost iced up the hole made for their escape, hoping it would buy them enough time to escape.

Later it would be the time to figure out what had just happened, but not now. Later.


"They got away!" Major Force yelled, returning from where he had smashed through the icy blockade. He did not sound happy, not that anyone else here cared.

"Pity," Vertigo sniffed. "They may have a talent for vithdrawal that ve vere not prepared for."

"Eh, let them go." A man in a blue coat with a long white scarf and a blue hat shrugged. "What's it matter they got away? Good on them."

"Watch yourself, Boomerang," Force snarled as he stomped his way to the Central City Rogue. "Don't forget who you work for now."

Boomerang tilted his head back slightly, looking down his nose at the larger man. "I haven't. And who are ya kiddin', work for? I don't work for, I'm drafted. Big difference."

"Both of you shut up."

The command came from the man in gray and red, the sharpshooter Deadshot himself. He was nearly on the floor close to where Killer Frost's ice wall had blocked him and Vertigo off.

"What did you say?" Major Force demanded, his anger directed at a new target. His arms were bent at his sides, muscle bulging at the tension within them.

The mask assassin looked over his shoulder at the Major. "Mission's over. They may have got away, but not all of them did." Lowering his head back, the assassin gazed down at the prone, but not dead body of King Shark. "You might have broken his jaw back there, Force, but I'm willing to bet that Waller will be able to get him to talk anyway."

Vertigo was giving a calm nod, not about to argue. Boomerang looked disinterested, not wanting to be here, but then most of them didn't want to be either. That left Force the only one to try and argue.

"Are you serious? That's what you want to bring back?" A yellow-colored hand gestured to King Shark as if to emphasis the incredulity.

"Well, you said it best yourself," Deadshot remarked as he stood up. "We only need one to talk. No one ever said they had to be in pristine condition. Let's pick him up and get out of here before the law shows up and makes this a bigger mess. We're not supposed to be here, remember?"

Strolling towards the exit, the actual exit to this room, and moving around what was left of the slowly warming ice wall, he added one more comment.

"And I don't feel like losing my head today. Pick up the trash before you lose yours."