This was an insult. Another insult in a long line of insults.

It was simple reconnaissance. Nothing more. You have to try to mess one of those up. Perhaps she had chosen the right people to mess up.

This was just the latest in a very long line of bad days that Waller was having.

The world always kept turning, and new intel was always incoming. You never knew what tomorrow would hold. Not knowing was not an option, and intelligence was key into keeping this world moving. Former Soviet installations coming back to life and being refurbished? That needed looking into, especially in today's climate.

The risks were high when sending a team in. It could not be afforded to allow any personnel connected to the United States government to be captured. That was a headache that couldn't be allowed. So who did you send in when you needed to get information from a place shrouded in secrecy that was located in a very sensitive location? Who did you send in that could be reliable enough to accomplish what you needed done, yet be expendable enough to be able to let them go?

You send in Task Force X

The hard work of disconnecting them from the United States was already done thanks to their own actions and schemes backfiring against them. The more colorful they were, the more they seemed like free agents, or worse, parties with their own agenda independent of others. A group of them together? Plausible deniability was assured and a reasonable excuse as to why they were there in the first place was established.

But you couldn't trust this lot further than you could throw them. They were loyal only to themselves. The promise of money or freedom would be more than enough to loosen their tongues. She was smart enough to come up with a contingency for that.

No matter where in the world they were, all it would take was a simple push of a button, then the problem was solved. Their eccentric reputations would offer an explanation as to why a head was missing.

Currently, as she set down a phone receiver, she studied the remote that would allow her to bury the team that was now in the middle of the latest mess to reach her. However, in this case, restraint was required as she thought through her options. Activating her contingency, a bomb planted in the heads of each squad member, would ensure that no one got loose lips. However, based on the latest transmission, the plane they had commandeered had crashed somewhere in the Siberian tundra, past the Arctic Circle. If they had all died in the crash, exploded heads would raise too many questions. Broken bodies would be accepted at face value, nothing suspicious there.

It was a more immediate headache compared to the other one.

The other one had been going on for weeks. You could say the root of it started with the revelation of a growing problem not just in this country, but in the rest of the world. She had learned about it all, the Initiative in Jump City, the gang in Star City, and the trafficking network that had been exposed hiding under all of their noses. She was both impressed and resentful of that last one.

Waller was someone that prided herself on knowing things that others didn't. Nothing stayed hidden from her for long. If she so much as caught a whiff of a rumor, she had it investigated thoroughly until something of substance was found, or it could be safely discarded as heresy. In regard to the metahuman trafficking organization, there had been literally nothing to out them until they were exposed. To reiterate, it was impressive; yet, she couldn't stand the fact such a wide-scale operation had gone unnoticed by her.

The ultimate problem left in the wake of the fall of H.I.V.E. was the growing number of young metahumans, and while answers to that problem had been thrown about, she had offered her own solution. There was really only one that made sense, and that was control. Control them, teaching to serve the country, then utilize those abilities for the interest of the country.

Her mistake had been that she had spread herself too thin. It started during the investigation of the defunct H.I.V.E. organization and its dismantling. During that investigation, she had recognized the handiwork of a former squad member and once events began to climax in Jump City, she had recognized an opportunity.

So she put into place her answer to the metahuman question and obtain her rogue escapee and do so at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

Waller had made an underestimation. Not of Slade Wilson, no. No, she had underestimated the potential for property damage that the Teen Titans were capable of. Resistance to her methods, she had expected. Defiance, absolutely; these were teenagers after all. Turning her entire underground facility upside down, she hadn't seen coming.

There was a hole in the ceiling, one that had a quick patch job as of now, but would need a more definite solution. The light show that the deceased Major Force had caused had brought a lot of unwanted attention, both from local authorities and the Justice League. People were asking questions, the kind that should never be answered.

She had been prepared for such exposure a long time ago. She had agents of her own in place, both within government bureaucracy, the Pentagon, and the halls of Congress, all ready to jump in and help cover it all up. Those plans had been designed for your run-of-the-mill whistleblower. All plans fell apart because of some undisciplined teenagers.

At the very least, she had been able to cover up Task Force X. The facility under Belle Reve, not so much. That was the call she had ended just recently, what it had been about, and what she would have to do about it. People wanted answers about why there was an underground facility under one of the toughest prisons in America. The Justice League was also very curious. If she didn't know any better, she'd suspect a certain rich boy in Gotham was fanning the flames.

The warden of this prison would have to give them answers. Fortunately, she was the warden. She'd give any answers she felt were worth giving and withhold everything else. She had better things to do than to justify herself to spineless congressmen who lacked the will to do what was necessary.

But she would bow out of the race for answers. Let other fools deal with the increase in metahumans. Those that made it her way would find themselves being put to better use. No kids, not anymore. This wasn't a damn babysitting service.

Which brought her back to the matter at hand. Waiting was not what Waller did. Getting a visual on the crash site and obtaining confirmation of whether there were any survivors would need to take priority. Making sure they weren't in the middle of a pursuit that might result in capture was the next priority. The contingency would come into play then.

Dead, alive, it didn't matter. All were expendable on Task Force X. Besides, there was always more potential recruits willing to roll the dice and take their chances at a shot for clemency. Yes, it would be a pain to try and replace any since some of the longer-tenured members were involved in that latest blunder of a mission.

That was the point of Task Force X. Every single one of them was expendable, no matter how useful they were.

Some intelligence would be gathered first, then a decision would be made. If there were any survivors, it would be in their best interest to make contact as soon as possible.

It was only their lives on the line after all.

This was the closest thing to Hell on Earth.

The moment they had left the plane, they all must have had second thoughts. The sudden rush of frigid cold air and wind had stopped them in their tracks. Any exposed skin was assaulted by the stinging, biting, freezing wind.

They had naturally huddled around Diablo, who had immediately lit himself up. Unfortunately, the only ones that got a slight benefit were the ones downwind as the heat was pushed in that direction. Retreating into the plane had looked like a completely acceptable answer had it not been for the fact that they wouldn't leave the crashed aircraft if they did. If they went back in, they would convince themselves to stay until help came. The problem was that the nearest assistance were the very people that wanted to either capture them for interrogation, or dead because they had seen too much. So out into the freezing blizzard they reluctantly went.

This was a miserable plan, Deadshot would be the first to admit it.

And they were walking blind through this too. As snow and ice crunched beneath their feet, each step ending up with their foot and leg buried up to their knees, they left a long trench in their wake. Anyone looking for them wouldn't have to work all that hard to locate them.

The others had to have tried voicing their displeasure, but the blizzard drowned them out. Painstaking step after painstaking step they made, traversing this arctic hellscape.

There were times when the wind died down a bit, and the falling snow eased up, but that only lasted a pitiful minute or so before it resumed battering and beating them. Deadshot made a mental note never to do an arctic mission again, even if this one never intended on them heading this way in the first place.

That was assuming they were going to make it out alive. Just a couple minutes into this and the sniper knew that not all of them were going to make it. The smart odds was that all of them were freezing to death, even Diablo. Even with his fire power, you could see the strain on his face as he tried to keep himself hot for the others, literally burning himself to keep everyone warm.

He was a good guy for that. Most of them wouldn't have been willing to sacrifice themselves for anyone. It was why they were bad guys and not heroes.

Heh, now that he thought about it, didn't Superman have some sort of base up here?

Thankfully, Boomerang was at least doing his part, throwing his sonar boomerangs around every so often. They would vanish into the blizzard, lingering out there for what seemed like an eternity, and then return to the Aussie. He'd do this every few minutes, though it felt like he was doing it more and more frequently. Either he was losing track of time, or he was getting desperate to find something. Chances were it was the latter.

There was a soft cry, which caused Deadshot to look behind him. The softness of the cry was more due to the wind drowning it out than it being weakness in the voice. Killer Frost had stumbled, her hand reaching out to grab onto Diablo to help steady herself. She was practically blue in the face, the part that was visible anyways. They were all bundled up in whatever was in the plane, which turned out to be four blankets, a couple of parkas, and well, that was about it. The girls were swallowed up by the parkas, and the men wrapped the blankets around them as best as they could.

They had also fashioned some masks out of Slipknot's clothes. They did shit from the looks of it, but it was at least something. Deadshot was thankful for his mask as it was insinuated. None of them were all that strong with needle and thread, not that they had any. So some of Slipknot's ropes and buckles had been put to use.

Hey, it wasn't like he had any more use for them.

That was when a hand punched the sharpshooter's shoulder. Turning his head, he realized it was Boomerang, and he wasn't hitting him just for the hell of it. No, he was trying to get his attention and it worked.

The man moved his extended arm and pointed in a direction. He tried to say something, but his words were too muffled to be heard. Still, him pointing was all Deadshot needed to know that he might have found something.

Nodding, he changed their course, heading in the direction Boomerang had pointed out. The Aussie kept throwing his sonar boomerang just to make certain they were heading in the right direction, steering them slightly from time to time.

And then they found it. They had to be perhaps a few feet from it, but eventually they found a towering piece of ice. It broke up the pure witness and flatness on what must have been a plateau. Even better, there was an opening.

All of them picked up their pace, stumbling until they entered the cave. All of them collapsed the moment they were inside, their gasped breaths filling the little enclosure.

"That…was brutal," Harkness groaned. "Next time…just…tell Waller…to blow my head off…"

"Same…" Plastique agreed.

While it was still cold, they were at least out of the wind. That was one plus.

"Take five," Deadshot said after several minutes.

"Hours," Killer Frost added, slumping up against the cave wall. "I'm not moving for at least five hours."

Yeah, that sounded good too.

It was some time before they got their asses into gear. Should it have been a surprise that it was Diablo who was the first to move? He didn't go far, just positioned himself in the middle of their tiny cave, and became a literal campfire. No flames or anything, but he radiated so much damn warmth that the snow around him had melted to reveal a stone floor. Admittingly, it had only been frost on the floor, but that had been an inch or two's worth of frost that had built up there over time.

The others had sat their happy asses right next to him, slowly warming up. However, they couldn't just stay that way forever. As much as the cave was providing shelter, they couldn't just stay here.

So, Deadshot got to work after awhile. Positioning himself at the cave's mouth, he set up the communication equipment needed to get in touch with base. Namely, this was to get back in touch with Waller so that she didn't decide to hit the big red button in her office that ended all of their misery.

When they were getting ready to leave the plane, the sniper had decided to take the radio system the aircraft had. One would think the Russians would design their system to handle the harsh cold since that was basically their entire country for, what, three quarters of the year? Probably less, but it wasn't like he had made a habit of working in Russia during the winter months.

Once he had it set up, he turned the old thing on, immediately hearing radio interference. At least he knew it worked and wasn't damaged in the crash. Life's small miracles there. Immediately, he turned the frequency, searching for one he knew the U.S. used, particularly the ones that were designed for secret ops. They were the blackest of the black after all, so they needed a secured line.

"Home, this is Alpha Team, over," he said. Waiting several seconds before repeating himself. He changed to another signal and repeated his hail.

"Let's hope Waller's listening," Harkness grumbled, tightening his blanket around his body.

"It's gonna be hell getting a hold of her," Plastique responded. "That blizzard sure as shit ain't going to help things."

Deadshot spared a glance at the storm just outside the cave's mouth. Yeah, that was definitely something to consider, but they didn't have much of a choice. There was no telling how long this storm would last, and they didn't exactly have the time to wait it out. If they could even just let Waller know their location, that would be enough. At the very least, it'd keep her from hitting the button for the moment.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better," Killer Frost said. "I don't like this place."

"None of us do, lady," Harkness retorted. "I'm freezin' in my knickers here. If we don't get the hell out of here, we're gonna die of hypothermia and frost bite, both of which ain't a pretty way to go."

"You don't get it," the woman grumbled. "There's just something wrong about this place."

That gave Deadshot pause. They had done plenty of missions where someone had said something in the vein, and it turned out to be for a damn good reason. They didn't need to be hiding in some ancient burial ground, or a holy site for some indigenous population. Were there any indigenous people in this area? Knowing their luck, some Viking had managed to explore up here and chose to use this place as their grave.

He did not want to fight a Viking's ghost.

"What's making you feel that way?" he questioned.

"I don't know, just something doesn't feel right. I can't explain it," she responded.

"Find a way to explain it!" Harkness demanded, nearly standing up. He seemed to be having the same thoughts as the sniper, and his instincts were going into overdrive. "This ain't the place to be vague!"

"Get off my back!" Frost did fully stand up, pissed off as usual. To be fair, Boomerang had a way of pissing people off. "I just don't like this place, alright! I hate it here and I want to get as far away from this place as possible!"

"Well, neither of us like it here either, but it sure as hell is better than being out in that nightmare!" Harkness jerked a hand to point to the cave's entrance and the storm beyond it.

"Both of you, shut up!" Deadshot ordered. "Instead of fighting, be useful."

"Oh, and how are we supposed to do that?" the Aussie responded sarcastically, turning back around to glare at the sharpshooter. "Get in touch with Waller? You're already doing that. Diablo is our campfire, unless you want me to figure a way to light myself up. Gotta say, I'll pass because I'll die if I did that."

"At least it'll shut you up." Frost turned and began walking away, heading further into the cave.

"And where do ya think you're going?" Harkness called after her.

"Anywhere you're not!" she shouted back.

God, Boomerang was a jerk!

Killer Frost hated the cold. She absolutely despised it. She should have just asked to be thrown in her cell the moment she first heard of this mission. Go into frozen Russia? Sure, why not? Never mind this hellhole was nothing but snow and ice year-round!

See, the thing about her power was that she required heat for it to work. Sounded counterintuitive, but hear her out. By sucking in heat, she was forcing the temperature around her body to drop to the point ice could form. From there, she could manipulate the ice the way she wanted it. It all had to do with physics.

So when she was in an area where heat was scarce, like say the fucking Arctic, she was virtually powerless. In fact, her act of drawing heat into her body so that she could use her powers actually helped keep her body warm. Without it, she ran low to the point that if she didn't consistently do it, she'd die.

Yeah, that was one thing they didn't teach kids in school about metahuman powers.

There were always drawbacks, just some weren't as obvious as others, or were so miniscule that they hardly mattered. For Frost, winter sucked. There was a reason she preferred to work in warmer areas, at least before she got shanghaied into this goddamn suicide squad. What she wouldn't give to be sitting on a beach in the Yucatan right now.

So yeah, she was betting she was next in line to die. The smart thing would be to glue herself to Diablo since he was putting out all kinds of heat, but that meant staying around that asshole Captain Boomerang. No way would he tear himself away from their human campfire, and right now she had no desire to be anywhere around him. He was annoying on his best day, so he was downright insufferable right now. She couldn't kill him because Waller would have some torture to put her through as punishment, and Boomerang wasn't worth that torment. She just needed a little alone time, cool off, then head back.

Surprisingly, this cave was deeper than she thought. There was a slope that led downward, which meant it went underground. It was dry thankfully, though that had to do more with the cold ensuring that any moisture stayed frozen. She kept walking until she reached the back, which she ended up running right into.

"Ow!" she yelped as her face hit something cold and metal. That had hurt…wait, metal?

Taking a step back, she stared at what she had run into and found herself frozen in place, pun very unintended. She just stared because there was no way on God's green earth she was seeing what she was seeing.

"Guys!" she shouted. "You're gonna want to see this!"

It was several moments before she got a response, which she had taken that time to take a couple steps back, never once tearing her eyes away from the sight. Then, she got paranoid. If this was here, then that meant…

"What is it?" she heard Deadshot ask her as he suddenly reached her. He came to a stop next to her and froze in place much like she had. His attention was right on the back wall.

"Anyone got a light?" Plastique asked as she arrived too, the others as well. In response, Diablo raised his hand up and a flame erupted out of his palm. This gave them plenty of light.

And Frost knew she wasn't just seeing things.

"Bloody hell," Boomerang swore. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Oh yeah," Deadshot confirmed. "I think we just found a consolation prize. Waller is definitely gonna want to hear about this."

Despite the static, Waller was able to make out the human voice on the other end and recognize it. No, there were no feelings of relief or gratitude that she was suddenly saved from restructuring a new squad.

She did, however, voice her impatience. "It's about time. Status report."

The signal was not the strongest, and that was more than likely due to the adverse weather conditions. Nonetheless, she could make out Lawton's voice. "Still breathing and in one piece."

"And if you had waited another minute, it would be with one limb less. I was about to blow all of your heads off. What's your current condition?"

A mutter, that had to have been a mutter, but the line was shaky so making out what was actually said was a challenge in and of itself. The sniper chose instead to be professional when he spoke up.

"Lost the other team. If they survived the base, you'll have to figure out what you want to do with them. As for us, it's white as far as the eye can see. I think we're on the ice cap, if not damn near the North Pole."

Which would explain the static and weak signal. It wasn't just the latitude but the pole. Magnetic interference from the planet itself was playing havoc with communications. There would need to be a live feed on the area to try and get confirmation of the surviving squad's location and if it was possible, extraction.

Then again, it would be much easier just to trigger the bombs and wash her hands of this mess.

"Have you been followed? Are you currently at risk or being tracked down and captured?" Whatever the answer was to these questions, it would determine what she would do next.

"Not yet. The blizzard ought to have convinced them to turn tail. Listen, can you try and get a pickup for us? We found something, something I think you might be interested in."

Waller raised an eyebrow, one that she knew Lawton wouldn't be able to see. What was this? An attempt to try and stall, prevent a hasty judgment that would result in the virgin snow being stained red? She was not one to entertain pleas for mercy or stays of execution. There were more important things to do than to entertain any of that.

Lawton, though, was not one to make wild claims or beg for any kind of mercy. Once the assassin had figured out what his circumstances were, he delved into the work with hardly a complaint. He had—smartly—recognized that any resistance on his part would lead to an early, shallow grave. You could always trust a man who dished out death like it was M&Ms to value his own life to the point that self-preservation was a religion.

That was also the same type of man to keep an eye out on. After Wilson had pulled his Houdini act and not only escaped Belle Reve but Task Force X and her contingency, she had kept a closer eye on those made from the same cloth.

Cowards like Harkness didn't have the imagination and couldn't play the long game to save their life. Metahumans, once they figured out their powers would not get them what they wanted, stalled and did as they were told, unable to comprehend that there were greater powers out there other than their own that held dominance over them. People like Lawton, those were the ones to keep an eye on.

Opportunistic, creative, and patient, that was a combination that would lead to trouble if not right-out disaster if you did not keep a close eye on them.

So what was it that Lawton claimed to have found? Did he think he knew her well enough to guess what might or might not interest her? If this wasn't some ruse, then what could Lawton have found up there in the Arctic?

Her finger was itchy, but curiosity was stronger than the impulse.

"And what might that be?"