Pray the Deal is not Altered Further
There was a streak of poeticism that Red Robin felt he was experiencing lately. Take this for example: the elevator ride.
Waller had led them to one, and there hadn't been enough space to fit everyone. They would have to go in two groups. He himself was in the first group, Kid Flash's gurney taking up a lot of room. Waller was with him, a few guards, but at least Wonder Girl was able to get in with him. Here is where that poeticism came in.
The descent felt like they were heading for the Gates of Hell. Don't ask him why he felt such a way. Being in close quarters with Waller, standing inches away from her, he just picked up on this feeling that there was something…not quite right. She was human obviously, no signs of being a metahuman, but her very presence was suffocating.
And who would have thought? The Gates of Hell looked like elevator doors. As the sensation of being lowered down in a steel box waned, those doors opened to reveal a small yet barren room. It was well lit with bright fluorescent light, and his boots clacked against the floor. Waller, though, came to a stop in front of a set of double doors. She didn't even look back or say anything. It was just expected that you understood what she wanted.
She was waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. Walking through a prison to get to this point was…an experience. Let's leave it at that. No need to bring up how they were guided through a cell block or three, all those faces watching them, a few catcalls that ended abruptly when one of the guards would peel off from the group to make sure the place returned to silence…
Waiting wasn't Kid Flash's strong suit, and even with the leg he was fidgeting on that gurney, the moveable bed and support creaking from all his movement. Red Robin found himself standing close to the gurney, keeping himself between the speedster and warden like a protective shield. Call that another gut feeling there.
Still, the teen vigilante understood what the speedster must feel on a regular basis because waiting for the others to arrive was agonizing. Seconds ticked by, he shifted the weight of his body from one leg to another, and no one spoke up. Nothing. Not even something to distract for a second. Eventually, those doors opened again, and the rest of the team with security entourage arrived, almost filling up the rest of this small waiting room.
"Everything behind this point is one of the most secured locations on the planet," Waller announced, her voice not booming yet diverting all attention to her. "Do not touch anything or speak to anyone. That last one is at your risk."
When Waller moved, you either followed or were left behind. There was no hand holding here. The doors opened with the warden in the lead, the guards ringing around them but for some reason remaining where they stood. That was…curious, but with the exception of those who were wheeling Kid Flash in, the only other adults here weren't moving a muscle.
The answer to that, however, was just on the other side of the doors. No sooner had he stepped through that Red Robin found himself bringing himself up short.
From a small, little room to a massive one, yet the expanse around him was not what drew his attention. Far from it. On the other side of those doors, the same ones that Waller had just walked through, standing there in all their glory were five unique looking people. Costumed, all of them, none of them looking particularly impressed or interested in the sight of the Titans.
Starting from the far left, there stood a man in red and silver, an eyepiece over his right eye, and arms crossed. A device wrapped around one wrist like a bracelet, a gunbarrel extending from it. No further details needed to be given because Red Robin found that he recognized this person, this assassin. What had been the name again? He had been one of the killers brought into Gotham when Bane had laid claim to it. Started with a D…Death…Dead…Dark…no, not Dark, Dead…Dead…shoot? Deadshot? Okay, that last one seemed about right. Deadshot, had a struggle with him and the guy had given him the slip. How'd he end up here?
Next, and moving to the right, was a blond-haired man in gray with a black cape. Like Deadshot, he too had an eyepiece though it was over the left eye, and had a green-colored lens on it. The masked teen had no idea who this guy was, but he seemed a little amused to see them, standing at attention with straight posture and all.
After him, there stood a frosty woman. The skin was way too pale, almost blue like she had been out in a blizzard for too long. Like Deadshot, her arms were crossed too, and she did not hold back any boredom or contempt she may be filling. Unlike the last man, Red Robin did recall some pictures of her from the news. If he recalled correctly, that had been around the time Blackfire had pulled her terraforming stunt. Her name…it was…something ice or cold related? Something Frost. Killer Frost? That felt about right too.
Moving on, there was another man, this one in a long, blue-colored coat, a distinctive white scarf, and what looked like boomerangs attracted to his belt. Red hair stretched down from under an airman's hat, was styled into muttonchops, and like the possible Killer Frost before him, he too looked like he would rather be anywhere than here. Not quite sure what his name was-
"Hey! Captain Boomerang! I haven't seen you in, like, forever! I was wondering where you was!" Kid Flash exclaimed, the speedster's voice echoing throughout this massive room. It certainly broke up the silence they were experiencing.
This Captain Boomerang glanced to Kid Flash, then grimaced. "Oh great. Another fast one. Like I'd need ta see 'nother of those bastards."
Australian accent. The voice itself, it…was familiar to the masked teen. He didn't want to draw conclusions here, but this wasn't the first time in his life where an Australian accent was relevant. Could it be…what were the odds? Probably low. As he had told Wonder Girl a while back, one of the crooks that had broken into his home back in Gotham had an Australian accent. This couldn't be the same guy, could it?
Shaking his head, Red Robin looked to the last of the five. This one was the biggest one so far. He looked like a man, also looked like he could bench press a train, and was colored in red and yellow. Arms crossed and allowed massive biceps to bulge. His costume covered the entirety of his body, so it was hard to give any more details about him. The scowl was a clear sign he too would rather be doing something else.
"Keep your opinions to yourself, Harkness," Waller reprimanded. "They're wards here for the time being. If you have time to talk, then you have time to be doing your job."
Boomerang didn't respond, but Red Robin had the feeling he was holding back a response. Killer Frost moved out of Waller's way as the heavyset woman continued to trek forward. Red Robin straightened his shoulders and proceeded after her, not giving these…people any mind. Taking a closer look at their new surroundings, he found that this massive room was at least five stories tall, and lining both sides of it were individual cells. Most had people in them, some of whom were watching while others paid no mind.
This place was like a cell block, wasn't it? Walkways and catwalks lined the walls and reached over to connect to the other side. Yeah, yeah, this felt like a prison that was under another prison that was located in the swamps of Louisiana. What more was there here?
Behind him, Cyborg whispered to Kid Flash, "You recognize that one? What about the others?"
For once, Kid Flash answered in as quiet a tone of voice, "Beats me. Captain Boomerang felt the mode back in Central City if you get my meaning. Felt when he should have crashed, but hey, that's what happens when you take on the Flash."
Kid Flash's knowledge about the Flash was unrivaled; a shame that couldn't be extended to others.
But no more time for thoughts. Waller was once again leading the way, but so were her costumed band of killers. Presumably they were killers. Three out of five were already identified as bad guys. What were the odds the other two were as well? Damn, what had he gotten them all…into…?
It was a genuine cellblock. He could see into the individual cells, so many occupied. Some of their occupants looked up at them then looked away, disinterested. Others didn't bother. All were in the prison garbs, the five that were flanking Waller seemingly the only ones allowed their own outfits. Armed too, telling by the looks of Deadshot there.
This was starting to feel like a worse and worse idea by the second.
As they passed one cell, he could have sworn he heard a snort. Confirmation came when a voice boomed, "You're turning to robots now? Give me five minutes and I'll dismantle that son of a bitch."
Cyborg slowed to a stop, his head turning to that one particular cell. Red Robin slowed himself, watching his teammate worriedly. Now was not a time to pick a fight.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Metal Man. The robot apocalypse is not happening on my watch!"
Perhaps the best sign that this might not go south was that a titanium hand did not ball up into a fist. The cybernetic Titan shook his head, and retorted, "I'm not the one in a cage, man."
"Hey! At least I'm willing to do something, you pussy. There's not a man, woman, or child I wouldn't kill for peace."
Something about that didn't sound right.
Wonder Girl swooped in, putting herself between Cyborg and that one particular cell. "Back off, John Cena lookalike. No one wants the Kool-Aid."
Without even looking back, Waller snapped, "Can it, Smith."
There was no further response, and when Cyborg began moving with Wonder Girl still positioning herself between him and this Smith, Red Robin resumed following as well. It seemed like this would be the worst of it, for now at least.
And then a voice bellowed behind them.
"Who the hell is John Cena and why does he look like me?"
Waller was a woman of patience with the sole exception of tolerating failure. Failure got people killed, but if you were smart enough, then it was the right people being killed. She had little tolerance for anything that wasn't to the point or professional.
These Teen Titans were going to need a crash course in meeting her expectations, as was to be expected. It may not seem like it, but this was not her first time handling children. Hers just didn't talk to her much outside of holidays.
These children, however, were getting a good look at her pride and joy, Task Force X. Her collection of the worst of the worst, all tamed at her hand, and with plenty of cells awaiting new recruits at all times, was a means of getting these superpowered teenagers under thumb as well as weeding out those who might present problems.
So far, any and all disruptions were tolerable, surprisingly. The injured speedster needed some work, and so far he was keeping in character. Oddly, the green one was very quiet and his file gave the impression of a chatterbox. Further observation would be needed. Everyone else, though, were well within their expected parameters.
A conference room, one for briefings was where she chose to dump these children for the time being. Instructions were given to Task Force X's Alpha squad to keep an eye on them. Lastly, she pulled aside the Teen Titan designated Red Robin with the request for a personal briefing. With as few words as possible, she conveyed that she wanted to be as up to date on the current situation.
The Titans' leader was, in truth, the one who was going to be brought up to date. She knew more than she had let on, which was standard operating procedure here.
She led the Titan's leader to another room, this one was much more high tech than that conference room the other Titans had been dumped. This was more of an official briefing room. If she really wanted to get into detail with any of her Task Force X teams, then here was where she did it.
The door was closed being the teenager, Waller making sure it was shut. The boy was quick to put some distance between himself and her, not that she cared. He did face her, keeping his eyes on a potential threat, and that was the only compliment she would give him.
"So what do you want?" the boy in the Halloween costume asked as Waller moved towards one of the far walls. She retrieved a remote control, a thumb pressing down on a button. Along the wall opposite the door, a thin membrane that was a screen lit up and presented the little presentation she had made in anticipation of the Teen Titans' arrival.
"You're the leader of this ragtag team, are you not?" Waller answered with a question. Without waiting for an answer, "They all follow your lead. That's responsibility, which means you can't afford to blunder in the dark as you have. As the leader, you need as much information as possible to make informed decisions."
"And you're going to just give me information, is that it?" the boy finished.
If he thought she was impressed, she wasn't.
"Everything comes with a price," was what Waller ended up answering, directing her gaze to the lit up screen while non-verbally telling her captive audience what to do. Without any choice or knowing anything else, the boy followed her gaze.
On the screen was an image, one of the few confirmed sightings of a certain hired gun. Bulky but lithe, powerful yet nimble, armed to the teeth for both long and short range, death in custom-made armor and with a dual-colored mask, it was the subject of their little briefing here. The Titan was silent, waiting for her to make the point.
"If you're as resourceful as I hope you are, then you know who this is," Waller stated.
"Deathstroke. The Terminator," the boy answered, and the pause between the names gave away that he was tacking on the last part.
"Real name: Slade Wilson. Former occupation: Lieutenant colonel in the United States Army, Special Forces, and honorably discharged. Currently, a hired gun and one of the deadliest assassins on the planet. Trained in hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, demolition, espionage, and mastery with several kinds of weapons with a preference for the sword. The majority of the covert ops he has been on come dipped in ink to save time. Of all the people in the world to pick a fight with, you have to pick one of the deadliest."
Youthful belligerence fired back, "We didn't pick a fight with him! He just showed up and tried to kill us!"
"A man like this doesn't just show up and kill people for the fun of it," Waller retorted back. Another press of the button and the visage of Wilson disappeared only to be replaced with multiple images of the man's handiwork. Multiple bodies, all with different kinds of injuries, and all done efficiently to the point that there was minimal blood for most of them. The boy's jaw was dropping down, and Waller felt that he needed to really grasp what he was seeing. "Many of these kills aren't on his official list of confirmed kills."
"How do you know that?" the boy asked. You could hear the offense in his voice.
"Mr. Wilson has a long list of customers, people who will pay through the nose for his particular services. Just because he was honorably discharged did not mean that the United States didn't have need for him. The man was loyal to a fault, his country came first. Then he had to pull a stunt, and the brass had to keep it down lest they give themselves a black eye. The discharge was for everyone's benefit."
If Wilson were to do some freelance work, provided it did not interfere with the interests of the United States, the more eyes could turn blind. It didn't need to be said that assassins also had an affinity for getting into places that were politically inconvenient. They could take the blame that the country didn't need, and meaningless speculation would bury the truth.
"Though, impressive as his resume is, he wouldn't be able to accomplish half the feats he has without a little help." This briefing was far from over. "Wilson was always one to try anything, anything that would give him an edge. A new fighting technique, a new style, a new weapon, he would say yes to. Take the sword he uses. It's no ordinary sword, no trace of steel can even be found. It's made of a rare metal, one that's been named Promethium, and it's tough. Extremely tough. Where he found it, I don't know, but what matters is that it allows him to take on other tough metals, titanium alloy for example, and slice right through it. But that's not all that makes him dangerous.
"Perhaps you've heard this story before, an armed force is interested in creating the ultimate soldier and turns to chemistry to achieve it. Wilson willingly volunteered for such an approach. Codenamed ACTH, Slade Wilson was treated with an experimental supersoldier serum. There were great hopes for the project. If anyone could get the most benefit from it, it would be one of the best ever trained in the armed forces."
"Is that why he's so strong? He's another attempt to make a supersoldier?" the boy asked.
"You have no idea how on the mark you are." She didn't have much confidence in his intelligence, but even a broken clock could be right twice in a day. "The serum enhanced his strength, his reflexes, even his intelligence. Everything multiplied. Even now no one knows the full extent of his abilities, and I doubt Wilson himself does."
"It was a success," the boy growled under his breath but she heard him all the same.
"He was a failure," she corrected, and she didn't respond to how fast the adolescent whipped his head about to look at her. "The compound was a failure. Everyone who took it with one exception died. Only one survivor, and he had to be placed in a medically induced coma so that his body could burn it out of him. Even the military has its moments when it realizes that it needs to stop throwing money at a bad idea. The ACTH program was scrapped and we moved on to another that was showing more promising results."
No need to go any further into Project Gilgamesh. It wasn't relevant.
"Highly trained, took a failed supersoldier serum, kills everyone he goes after, none of this tells me why he's after the Titans," the boy stated, finally getting to the point. Pausing, the boy then said, "You know who hired him, don't you?"
Not a bad question. Such shrewdness did earn some honesty. "No. We keep an eye on the deadliest men and women in the world. We find out who likes to pay for their dirty work to be done by another. We know who Slade Wilson prefers to be patronized to. This time, there's no money trail, no obvious suspect. For all intents and purposes, the Terminator is acting on his own and not on anyone else's behalf."
"But why?" the Titan's leader demanded, his voice rising. His arms were starting to tremble from the tension building in them. "If he's not being paid and he's doing this on his own, then why, damn it!"
A crack in the professionalism, to be expected from a youth. Instead of giving an answer, Waller pressed another button on the remote and changed the image on the screen to a video. There had been an anti-Teen Titan rally nearly a year ago and it had been attacked. From this video, it was easy to see the Teen Titans coming to the rescue of those condemning them. You could also see the image of the one responsible for the attack and the Titans engaging him in a fight.
She allowed the video to play, allowed the frustration building in the boy to grow. Finally, "What does Ravager have to do with any of this?" he demanded.
Another click of a button. This time, it was replaced with security feed. A fight between "Ravager" and the Teen Titans' Wonder Girl and Terra played this time, the fight going on until "Ravager" collapsed onto the ground. Wonder Girl attempted CPR, but it was all for nothing. Another press of a button sped up the footage, the two Teen Titans leaving until…
The footage was on play again, and this time someone else entered the feed. Walking up to the corpse of "Ravager" was none other than Wilson himself. The man knelt down and cradled the corpse, and Waller allowed the imagery to sink in.
"We recovered this from H.I.V.E.," she remarked. "I doubt the League even knows it exists."
You could tell the gears were turning in the boy's head. Pieces of information he had not been privy to were now being placed with what he did. Nevertheless, he was still missing some.
"You knew him as Ravager. I know him as Grant Wilson. Slade Wilson's son."
Another look from the boy, Waller let the shock wash all over him.
"H.I.V.E. was determined to have its own pet Deathstroke. When Slade Wilson turned them down too many times, they tried their luck with the son. Grant was nothing like his father. The furthest thing, actually. Pathetic, even. H.I.V.E. was not about to admit defeat, and to their credit, they not only recreated the ACTH formula, they improved it. But, it didn't matter who they injected it into, the side effect of death would always be the end result. The second Grant was injected with it, he had sealed his fate. H.I.V.E. believed they had created a tainted batch, not knowing the truth. It's a minor miracle that Grant lived as long as he did."
Looking away from the screen, Waller locked eyes with the boy in her midst.
"This isn't business, Red Robin. This is personal. You're not dealing with the world's deadliest killer, you're dealing with a grieving father who will stop at nothing to avenge his son."
This was becoming a habit, wasn't it? Raven knew about prisons and knew enough to stay away from them, yet somehow she kept finding her way into them.
Her reasons for staying away from them were different from everyone else's. As an empath, she could feel the emotions of others as if they were her own. It took a lot of training to be able to ignore it. It took even more training to be able to keep herself safe from random spikes of emotions that posed the threat of overwhelming her. It didn't matter if the emotion was positive or negative.
Prisons were oozing with negative emotions, so much so that they could leave a residue behind that could remain for decades. Belle Reve was no exception, and being in its lion's den was even worse. The feelings of murderers, rapists, thieves, and supercriminals were threatening to overwhelm her. Training from the monks of Azarath helped with her mental defenses, but it would not be a long term fix.
Maybe a few days, she calculated. She would be able to last a few days within the confines of this place, but if it went on too long…it was best not to think about what that would entail.
Red Robin had been taken aside by the person in charge, this Amanda Waller. In an ocean of homicidal ideations, violent fantasies, and boredom, she was the one piece of cold, calm, and calculative within it. There was something about her, something that Raven instinctively did not like, but she could not identify just what it was.
Patience and waiting then. Whatever Waller wanted to speak with Red Robin about would be conveyed to them later. She could put her energies to better use keeping an eye on the remainder of the team and making sure they didn't cause any problems.
Currently, she had taken a seat in one of the many chairs that lined the long conference table. She had a feeling it wasn't used much; it was as if it was here for a particular kind of guest that did not make the rounds to this location on a regular basis. There were less emotions tied to it, you see.
Cyborg, Starfire, and Wonder Girl were still standing, positioned close to the entrance to the conference room. They were like a buffer between herself and everything outside. They were also radiating concern.
Kid Flash had been taken from here. Security personnel had been adamant about getting the speedster to the medical wing of this underground prison with the intention of examining the damaged knee. There was talk of making sure it healed correctly, but there was intent to make sure that Kid Flash would be separated from them.
Cyborg had been the most vocal about it, and he had found himself being backed up both by Wonder Girl and Beast Boy, the green shapeshifter finally finding a different target for his own emotional turmoil. However, the other "guards," the supercriminals that Waller had left behind to keep watch over them had words of their own.
Those words, if you could call them that, were recommendations to sit tight and let the medical staff handle it from here. The large man in yellow and red tried to use his size for intimidation, but against teens and young adults who faced incredible odds on a regular basis, such intimidation was a waste of time. The man in gray with an accent—German or Austrian, it was difficult to make a correct identification—took the lead in simmering tempers. More logic with that one and a hell of a silver tongue.
With utmost reluctance, the people here were allowed to abscond with Kid Flash. The yellow and red man chose to wait outside, refusing to "babysit some punks," and was followed out by the icy woman. The man that their speedster called Captain Boomerang remained with them along with the man in gray and the other man in red and silver. Three guards in here, two without.
Without something to keep them united in rebellion, the rest of the Titans were restless. Their babysitters were not in a talkative mood either. Raven allowed herself to slump back into her seat and take the time to keep herself centered. If it could buy a few more minutes, then she would do what she could.
Beside her, a chair was pulled out and someone settled in it. Raven knew this because she could hear the scraping of the chair legs against the floor, the squeak of the chair cushion as a heavy weight settled on it, and lastly the hand that carefully placed itself on her shoulder.
Opening one of her eyes that she had closed, she noted, much to her surprise, that the team shapeshifter was the one to sit next to her. Funny, she had thought that he wasn't her biggest fan right now.
Green eyes spotted her singular dark one, and tense posture slumped. "You're okay, right?" Beast Boy asked gruffly.
Closing the eye, the empath continued with her meditations. "Physically, I am. A change of heart?"
Let's get this animosity addressed. The time for beating around the bush was long since past.
"I remember that you don't like places like this. You're…feeling them all, aren't you?"
Okay, will surprises never cease? Also, she recognized a deflection when she heard it, but she figured she could turn it back around. "You would be correct. I could do with a little less hostility if you get my meaning."
The green chatterbox was quiet for a moment. Very uncharacteristic. "I'm still not happy. But I also know that you don't need that right now." The hand on her shoulder squeezed. For a second, it felt comforting and reminded her of the last time she had experienced such a gesture from the shapeshifter.
The feeling of helplessness and despair. His body pressed against her smaller one, trying to protect her from…her other selves as it had turned out. He had been much more approachable then.
"You're right, I don't," she agreed. "I also don't want you throwing your life away. Like I said, I would rather have you alive and hating me than dead and happy with me. You can't avenge Terra if you're too lost in your rage."
Feeling the spike of emotion from Beast Boy, Raven felt that perhaps she went a bit too far. The hand on her shoulder slipped off, and it felt all the more colder for it.
"Maybe you have a point. I still don't like it when you force yourself on me."
That wording could use some work. Nevertheless, she understood the meaning. There were times when her powers affected others by accident or if they got in the crossfire. Friendly fire, if you will, but she had been deliberate when rendering the shapeshifter unconscious.
It would be so easy to turn around, put the blame on him, but Raven could sense such an approach would not be tolerated. In truth, she was indeed responsible for putting him to sleep against his will; the blame could go to no one else. So how to word this? How to say it in a way that would be accepted if only for a little while?
"I do not like having to do it myself," she said slowly, each word feeling as if they were being pulled out of her. "I do not like having the knowledge that if I had not, there we would be losing another to this madman. I had a choice to make, one I know you do not like that I made, and as I told you before, I would make the same choice again even if it means you hate me for the rest of my life."
There was no immediate answer, and so the empath waited. There was a sigh, and then came the answer, "I…I don't hate you, but I'm not happy with you either."
At least you were alive to be unhappy. This went unspoken. It didn't feel like the right time to say it either.
"So which list should I add you to?" Raven remarked dryly. "The ones who hate me or the ones you are unhappy with me? Both are extensive."
There was a bit of a snort. "Did you just tell a joke?"
"My attempts will always be better than your actual jokes," she quipped.
A shifting in the seat, movement, and then a voice that was almost husky retorted in a low voice, "I can be downright hilarious when I want to."
Why did that send a shiver up her spine? The hot air that bathed her ear had blood rushing into her cheeks. Hold it together and keep your emotions under control and don't let Passion influence you, damn it.
Nevertheless, the last word would always be hers, "I'll believe it when I see it."
This had been a lot to take in. Deathstroke, he had known, was tough, but this? This was a whole other level. How the hell had they managed to survive this long? Some of the best training around, surviving a lethal supersoldier serum, who knows how many years killing people, and you put that all together to make a monster.
A monster that blamed them for the death of his son. An avenging father going after the people he thought was at fault, never mind that those very people tried to save his son's life. Ravager might have been trying to kill them, but they weren't trying to kill him either. It was grossly unfair that this was saddled in their lap.
But this wasn't over, far from it. Red Robin knew that there was more that Waller wasn't telling. He had only just met this woman, but every alarm bell was going off in her presence. Experience told him that there was more going on, more than what was being told.
It would be a gamble, but he had to try and see if he could get anything else out of Waller. "Do you think this place can keep us safe?"
The curve of her lips was not reassuring. It was as if she saw him as the child a lot of the world saw him as. "Belle Reve is one of the most secure prisons in the world. That is, it's secure to those inside of it, keeping them in. Now, someone trying to break in, this is where it's going to be interesting."
Red Robin frowned. The implication of that… "You think he's going to…?"
A snort. "A.R.G.U.S. can take every precaution it can, but I prefer to err on the side of things going to hell. Wilson did not get to where he is today by being incompetent. He has the skills, the will, and the drive. In fact, I am counting on it."
"But you're suppose to be keeping us safe," he argued.
"That is incidental. You will be safe, but if you think that there won't be a price, think again. The government expects compensation for its services." He was just a few inches taller than her, but Waller's presence more than made up for her lack of stature. Knowing eyes pierced into him, and the masked teen knew that the most dangerous person in this prison weren't any of the inmates, but the woman who was holding them here.
Taking another gamble, "What is it you want?"
That gaze was cutting into him. The longer it was focused on him, the more it felt like he was losing pound after pound of flesh, all to pay this woman who claimed there was a price for her help. Abruptly, she turned away from him and gazed upon the screen where her little show had played.
Her arms slipped behind her back, hands clasping together as her shoulders straightened. It was as if he was just a captive audience now and not someone on her level, not that he was in the first place.
"Did you know that we were able to recover a number of the men that Bane brought with him into Gotham? In particular, the ones he brought in after the city was sealed off and the bridges destroyed? Certainly you recall that event. You were there. These individuals are some of the deadliest in the world; you saw one of them when you arrived. The world's deadliest sniper, alias Deadshot. The most lethal archer, Merlyn. And of course, the hound that has been dogging you through your precious Jump City, and has killed a number of your T.I.T.A.N. Initiative."
This…he hadn't heard about. The last he could recall about Deadshot, after some effort, as that the assassin had managed to get away. According to Waller, he hadn't, and that was one mystery he didn't know had been lurking around. Merlyn was a name that was also faded as he hadn't encountered that one.
Dusty cobwebs in his mind and they were holding him back. Why did he feel like he was drowning in an ocean, surrounded by predators every which way, and without anything to keep him afloat? A nice little metaphor, but it described everything perfectly.
"Each and every one of them was inducted into Task Force X," Waller continued, ignoring the conflict within the teen vigilante. "I put them to work, using their skills for the benefit of the United States and its causes. He was the best task force member I've ever had. He followed orders, did as told, and came back. A model prisoner, if I don't say so myself.
"Except one day he left and never came back."
The sudden hardness in her voice peaked Red Robin's interest. Someone sounded bitter.
"No one leaves Task Force X without my say so. I have a contingency for everyone who tries. Somehow, someway, Wilson found a way around my contingency. He became the first and only person to escape me. I sent three teams to retrieve him and all ended up dead. I got the message, but do not think for a second I considered giving up. Sometimes you have to bide your time until an opportunity presents itself."
Waller turned back to look at him, a grim smile on her face that certainly was not friendly. "You and your lot are the opportunity I have been waiting for. Live bait to use so that I correct a mistake that never should have happened. That is how you will pay for your room and board. Wilson will come back here and he will finish his time on Task Force X one way or another."
This really had been too good to be true. You couldn't trust any adult, could you? His hands balled into fists and he struggled not to lash out. Through his anger, he knew acting on it would only make things worse.
Unfortunately, Waller could and did read him like a book. She knew what he was feeling without him having to say a word or do anything.
"We're not the worms on your hook. We came to you for help!" the Titans' leader snarled. Screw holding back the anger, the lives of his friends and teammates were at stake!
"And help you will receive so long as you pay us back," Waller quipped back. "Remember, you turned yourselves over in our custody. You agreed to our conditions, whatever they may be, so long as you received protection. Regardless of what happens, A.R.G.U.S. will uphold its end of the bargain. However, like I told you, everything comes with a price. When your mess with Wilson ends, we're going to have a long talk about your future with us."
Future? Not likely. Not after this. "I think we're having that talk right now," he growled.
"You thought wrong. This is just the start, Red Robin. I'm looking forward to a long partnership, or should I say internship." The tone of Waller's voice had become more casual, but all that did was cause the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. "I am always looking for new members to join Task Force X. The Teen Titans ought to make decent recruits."
Pieces, all he had were pieces, but the picture they made about this enigmatic Task Force X did not look pretty. If anything, he wanted nothing to do with it. Those last words indicated that Waller had a difference of opinion.
Holding up a hand, palm held outward, "We're not here to join anything. We came for help."
"And in return for your help, I want your services," Waller retorted. "It's clear to anyone that the T.I.T.A.N. Initiative is failing. It did, however, have a point, and that is answering the question of young metahumans both in the present and the future. They need to be controlled else we'll have a growing problem on our hands. It's embarrassing enough that H.I.V.E. was able to exist under our noses. Task Force X is the better alternative to your Initiative."
Again too many pieces were missing, but his mind went straight to something she had said earlier. A contingency. Just what was it? Whatever it was, it kept so many dangerous people here, it had to do something…something on the darker side of things. Something that might get an outrage from certain sectors of the population.
His guard was coming up, and one of his feet slid back a bit as if to try and put more distance between himself and Waller. "What's the contingency?"
That smile of hers widened and sharpened. "You'll be finding out soon enough, you and your Titan friends. Welcome to Task Force X, no one leaves it alive."
Author's Note: I hope people have been brushing up on War of the Seven Clans on my coauthor, ShadowMajin's account. I don't think anybody was expecting a follow up to that in this story. Now, this is a short storyline back in the New 52 where Waller did make an attempt to forcibly recruit the Teen Titans into Task Force X. The Titans had a difference in opinion about it.