"You're just another brick and I'm a sledgehammer"
Deadshot
His neck still stings like hell. Being strapped down to a chair from head-to-toe damn sure didn't help ease the pain. Neither did being on an aircraft for God knows how many hours listening to Harley Quinn talking her mouth off. When he was wheeled off the aircraft, he tries his best to study his surroundings. He comes to the conclusion that he was at a base camp of some sort, soldiers running around and what not.
The air was warm and humid, sweat starts to form on his skin and his white t-shirt starts to cling itself onto his back. He tries to shift his body a bit, to get some air circulation, but the restraints made it difficult to move.
"Alpha! Bravo team on me!" someone calls out.
He is surprise to is Col. Rick Flag approaching by. He looks worn and easily agitated. Floyd smirks to himself a bit.
"Unlock 'em," Flag tells his men.
Floyd feels someone behind him as they use keys to unlock the handcuffs, padlocks, and shackles of his chair. They made a satisfying clank as the hit the concrete ground. He slowly gets up from his chair, cracking his neck a bit.
Harley Quinn hums in satisfaction, clearly happy to be out of those restraints, stretches out her arms.
"Hi boys!" She offers a hand to one of the soldiers. "Harley Quinn," She introduces herself, but the soldier was clearly uninterested. "How ya doin?"
Floyd was only focused on Rick Flag. The colonel stares right back at him, his fingers still on the trigger of his AK-27. He never understands while Flag look him like they have personal issues but he is pretty sick and tired of it.
I'll give you a reason to pull that trigger.
The tension in the air was thick, no one said a word to each other. Like they were waiting for a bomb to go off.
"Hm, what was that?" Harley pipes up. "I should kill everyone and escape?"
Dozens of weapons were instantly aimed at her head now. She looks a bit…sheepish. She taps a finger to her temple.
"Sorry," she said sweetly. "The voices." The only stared at her. "Geez, I'm kidding. That's not what they really said." She gives them a devilish grin.
This girl can't be this stupid. Deadshot thinks. She must be pretending.
Floyd turns his head as a Blackhawk chopper was coming in. As it was preparing to land, a U.S. Marshall and a S.W.A.T member leaps off with a large canvas bag. The bag itself squirm as it hit the ground. Something was inside it. The sharpshooters adjusted their guns on sight.
Flag turns away from Floyd and goes over to the moving bag. "Stand down!" He calls out. He pulls out a combat knife from his pocket and proceeds to cut open the canvas bag.
"Been waiting for you, Harkness." He said. He looks over to one of his men. "Meet George 'Digger' Harkness, known throughout Australia as 'Captain Boomerang'. Or Boomer."
Floyd holds back a laugh. Did these motherfuckers have the poor fucker in a duffle bag from Australia to here?
He didn't know which was ludicrous: that he calls himself Capt. Boomerang or he's a criminal that uses fucking boomerangs.
"I gotta say, mate. What is this?" Capt. Boomerang questions. "One minute, I was having a nice dinner with me Nana, and then this red streak hits me outta nowhere."
"Shut up," Flag tells him. "You were caught robbing a diamond exchange."
"I was not!" Capt. Boomerang says defensively. Flag pushes him ahead.
"Just get in line with the others."
A black SVU pulled up. The door opens and a pair of FBI agents, dressed in professional black suits with similar lapel pins, pulls a large man from the back seat.
"Have a good time, scumbag." A female F.B.I. tells sarcastically.
He responses by punching her in the face. She went down like a sack of potatoes and didn't get up. Floyd made a face.
The other two male F.B.I agents held him back as he was struggling a bit. A grin appears on his facial features.
"She had a mouth." He says.
"Here's Slipknot." Flag said. "The man who can climb anything."
Floyd looks at Harley, who was staring at Slipknots boots. "Hey, big guy, your laces is untied."
He looks down, checking, but heard Harley giggling and growls dangerously low.
"In your necks," Flag speaks. "The injections you all got. It's a nanite explosive the size of a rice grain. It's also as powerful as a hand grenade. Disobey me, you die. Try to escape, you die. Annoy or vex me in any way. Guess what? You. Die."
Floyd's hand instinctive went to his neck, slightly rubbing it.
"Sir," Harley says. "I've been known to be quite vexing. Sir, I'm just forewarning you, Sir."
Flag wasn't amused. "Lady shut up!" He goes back to address the entire group. "Here's the deal: You're going somewhere very bad to do something that will get you killed. Until that happens, you're my problem."
Floyd looks back at the others then back to the colonel.
"So what that like a prep talk?" Floyd questions him, scratching his temple.
"Yeah, that was a prep talk," He replies, glaring at him. "There's your shit." He points to the crates where their stuff was located. "Grab what you need for a fight. Wheels go up in 10."
"You might wanna work on your 'team motivation' skills." Floyd suggest. "You ever heard of Phil Jackson?"
"Yeah,"
"He's like the gold standard." Floyd makes a triangle with his fingers to prove his point. "Triangle, bitch. Study."
Floyd surveys the continents in the black plastic container. The first thing his pulls out is his personalized AK-47. He examines it silently. He sits it to the side and pulls out of his wrist guns. He slips it on and test its aim a bit. He hopes it still works when he needs it.
He removes his orange jumpsuit and the dirty wife beater t-shirt, leaving him only in his boxers. He didn't care if people were watching him, he was glad to be rid of any trace of Belle Reve.
Even if it's for a short time.
Floyd slips on an old t-shirt, slightly torn at the collar. He picks up his red killing up and struggles to get it on his body.
"Won't fit anymore?" pipes Harley. He looks over at her. Shee was busy applying a deep shade of lipstick on her lips. "Too much junk in the trunk?"
"Naw." He replies. "Every time I put this suit on…somebody dies."
"And?"
"I like putting it on."
Harley grins at him, pulling out a large wooden mallet from her container. "Good. Cause something tells me a whole bunch of people are about to die."
"Yeah, us." El Diablo says. "We're being lead to our deaths."
"Speak for yourself mate." Capt. Boomerang says, tossing his boomerang up in the air. "What's that crap on your face? Is it wash-off?"
Killer Croc chuckles a bit, although it sounds more like growling.
"Hey if you like a girl, can you light her cigarette with your pinky?" Harley asks innocently. "Because that would be really classy."
Diablo looks them a bit uncomfortable.
"Hey," Deadshot interjects himself into the conversation. "y'all might wanna leave 'ole boy alone. He can torch this whole joint. Ain't that right, ese?"
"You ain't nothing to worry about from me." Diablo assures. "I'm cool homie."
Col. Flag holds up his tablet at the gathered inmates. "Behold. The voice of God." The screen comes to life, revealing the woman Floyd had met back in Belle Reve.
"For those of you who don't official know me, I'm Amanda Waller." She speaks in a professional matter. "There's an active terrorist event in Midway City. I want you to enter the city and rescue HVT-1 and get them to safety."
Deadshot was confused. "I'm sorry but what is 'HVT-1 for those of us who don't speak 'good guy'?"
"The only person that matters in the city. The one person you can't kill." She answers. "Complete the mission you get time off your prison sentence. Fail the mission you die. If any happens to Col. Flag, I'll kill each of every one of you. Remember that I'm watching. I see everything."
The tablet's screen went dead and Flag looks at Deadshot. "There's your prep talk."
"Compared to your shit," He says. "she killed it." He lamped his wrist magnums onto his forearms and turned his arm to gauge the movement. Flag watches him intensely.
"So that's it huh? We some kind of suicide squad?"
"I'll notify your next of kin."