Frost had delivered a request from Fries. It had come quite unexpectedly. It was also mundane.

Call it paranoia. Call it a finely honed sixth sense when it came to bullshit. Call it distrust of a criminal, whatever you want. Waller smelled bullshit when she saw it, and this was one such occurrence.

Naturally, she had to see to this request personally.

Wearing the parka once more, she was hit with frigid air the moment the cell door opened. Striding in, she saw Frost huddled on the bed, a miserable look on her face. In fact, she was openly scowling at her. She didn't say anything, not that she needed to. It was clear the inmate wasn't enjoying her assignment.

Not that Waller cared either.

Fries was in front of the computer station, much to her delight. That had cost a pretty penny, and it would be a shame if it went to waste. The frigid man only glanced at her for a moment before returning his attention to what was on-screen. With the door closing behind her, she walked over to him, the dark-skinned woman making certain to look at what he was interested in, seeing the schematics on his Freeze Bomb.

"Your people are very thorough," the man said, not once looking at her.

"That's what I pay them for," Waller responded.

"Some pay," Frost muttered in her little corner.

She ignored the commentary. "I understand you have a request."

"Yes." Fries finally turned to fully face her. "I wish for paper and pen, pencil if that is acceptable."

"Mind telling me why you want this instead of using the computer? I'm certain the documentation program is serviceable."

"Serviceable, but delayed."

Waller raised an eyebrow at this. "Delayed," she repeated.

"I prefer writing when I am thinking," Fries explained. "It allows me to place my thoughts onto a visual media."

"A computer can do the same," she pointed out.

"Not when it comes to mathematics." Fries looked away. "I do not care to search the database for the correct symbols. There are times where my thoughts flow continuously that any sort of interruption is irritating. With pen and paper, I do not have to slow down. I can simply let my thoughts out."

Which was why she preferred the computer. Just because they had given him the system didn't mean she wasn't keeping tabs on what he was doing. She had a backdoor in place that let her view everything that he viewed, every program and file he entered, be it a search or a goddamn diary. She had seen him going through the various files, and she knew how long he had been in each one.

The pen and paper method would remove that access. Waller did not want to lose that access. "You have everything you need. I suggest you use them."

Fries did not get angry from this response. Instead, "Why do you have the schematics on the bomb I created? What purpose does it serve you?"

"I thought you might like a walk down memory lane," she replied. "After all, I was generous enough to give you the intel on them."

"I am quite aware of what went into the construction of the bomb. It worries me that there are others that wish to know more about it."

"Oh? Guilty conscience?"

"Consider it concern for the well-being of others. A bomb is designed to take life and mine is no different. The only reason for someone to go to the effort of studying it is to build more of them." He returned his attention to her. "Why do you want me to build a bomb for you?"

"Did I say I wanted you to build me a bomb?"

"You didn't have to."

Heh, if Fries thought she wanted him to rebuild some of his greatest hits, then he was sorely mistaken. Let him think his incorrect theories, it would only keep him distracted and off-kilter. If he was going to build her anything, it would be new and improved, nothing less.

However, she was beginning to see the fruits of her labor. Unlike the other members of Task Force X, the main reason she wanted Victor Fries under her thumb was for his mind rather than his physical contributions. Without his Freeze Suit, he was a liability, and she would never give him access to the one weapon that made him a city-wide threat. She was not that stupid.

By exposing him to the limited research materials, she was stimulating that brilliant mind of his. A scientist did not just look at research material and not want to improve upon it. They always drove for advancement and improvement. She just only needed to spark it.

It would seem she had done just that.

"I still fail to see why you want writing materials," she said after a few moments. Fries' last words showed that he knew she was up to something, but he did not know what exactly, He was fishing for information to confirm his thoughts.

Fries was initially silent. Then, "When I built my suit and weapons, this bomb, I did it all on paper first. It was how I learned during my education and it is a habit that formed during my early years researching under my mentors. You've seen my latest suit; all of the original notes and computations were written."

Waller stared at him. He may very well be right about that. An investigation had been performed at the hidden bunker he had under Wayne Enterprises, where he had stashed a surprise Freeze Suit. The only computer system present were ones that ensured the suit could be operational and kept it sealed away from the world. There was no research equipment. If he had wanted to use the computer system in there, there wouldn't have been much he could do.

Pondering this for a moment, Waller then drew out a handful of folded papers from a pocket in her parka. They were folded so that she could fit them in there. Why she brought them, well, she wanted to see if Fries could convince her to give them to him. She set the folded sheets on the computer terminal where he could see them.

"The hell?" Frost swore as she watched this.

"A pen?" Fries inquired, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"All inmates cannot have access to possible weapons, which includes pens and pencils." Waller looked up at him. "You are a very dangerous man, Victor, and you could use any sort of writing instrument to harm me and your fellow inmates."

"Sequestered in this cell, I fail to see how I could be a danger to others," he pointed out.

"What about Frost? You could harm her, could you not? Of course, she would defend herself and I wouldn't fault her for doing so."

"You say that now," the icy woman muttered under her breath.

"There must be another solution," Fries pressed.

"I did think long and hard, since you are a valued guest here. I think you will approve of my accommodation."

From the other pocket in her parka, Waller pulled out a small box of Crayola crayons. She set them on top of the papers. She couldn't help the smirk that formed on her face at the thought of a highly respected scientist like Fries writing notes in crayon.

Fries just stared at them before glancing back at her. He didn't say anything, just gave her an impassive look.

"Look on the brightside, should you get bored with your writings, you can always draw a pretty picture. I'll even post it on the breakroom's refrigerator," Waller added nonchalantly.

"That's messed up," Frost said, her distaste evident.

"You two kids behave yourselves," Waller then said before she turned and began to leave the cell. "Don't cause me any trouble with this. And Frost, if you are somehow killed by a crayon, I will be highly disappointed in you."

Frost didn't respond to that, just glowered where she sat. Waller knocked on the cell door when she reached it, hearing the gears shifting before it opened. She spared one last look at Fries, who was actually pulling a crayon out of the box.

Now there was an amusing thought. The Iceman drawing a picture. Though she meant it as a joke, if he really did make one, she was really considering putting it on a refrigerator here. All she had to do was find some magnets.


It was deja vu all over again. They were back in Russia, an abandoned Soviet facility was back online, and they were there to shut it down.

Now as long as someone didn't accidentally raise an alarm and activate all of the potentially deadly assassins-in-training, then they'd be breaking a very bad cycle.

Deadshot stared at the facility, using the scope in his helmet. He was attempting to locate sentries so that they could either avoid or dispose of them while they tried to get inside. It would be a whole lot easier to sneak in and get what they needed in intel before blowing the place sky high.

Naturally, the Russians wanted to make certain that no one knew this place was up and operational, so the patrolling guards were pretty well hidden. So far, he had only detected two of them, but there had to be more. They were just better hidden was all.

They were going in blind—again. That was the problem with abandoned facilities, getting intel on the physical layout would be done the old-fashion way, meaning they'd be stumbling around until someone inevitably screwed up. All of them were professionals to a degree, but there was a difference between a professional assassin and a professional criminal.

He spotted a third patrol. Like the previous two, it was just a man with an AK-47. He slowly trudged through the snow and cold. Deadshot immediately searched for any identifying markers, just like he had done with the other two. That way when they came around again, he'd know for certain just how many patrols were out here.

Of course, that just meant they'd be stuck out in the cold themselves. Fortunately, Diablo was heating up the spot where he stood, the others huddling around him for the warmth. That kept the complaining down somewhat.

Keyword: somewhat.

"I wish this bloke would give us the damn signal to go," Harkness grumbled, rubbing his arms with his hands.

"Will you shut up?" Electrocutioner groaned. "All you do is complain."

"What, you like standing out here freezin' your balls off?"

"I like silence better than your annoying voice."

"Agreed," Black Spider chimed in.

"Oy, you stay out of this, Spider!" Harkness demanded.

"You know, if you get us caught before we even get inside, I'm telling Waller," Plastique threatened. She kept her hand on a strap around her shoulder, a duffle bag dangling from it at her side. No doubt those were her toys. "That way she blows your damn head off and we can do this all over again without your bitching."

Well said. Even though there was some distance between him and the others, Deadshot could hear the conversation. You would think that after all of the missions he had been on, Harkness would have run out of things to complain about, but you'd be wrong. That was one difference between professional assassins and professional criminals. Sad part was, Harkness was more spy now than he was a criminal, yet he still acted like he did on Day 1.

It was several more minutes before another patrol came into sight, and Deadshot identified them as the first guard he had seen. Seriously, three roaming patrols? That didn't seem right. There had to be guys hidden out here, somewhere. Switching over to thermal vision, his sight became dark and purple. The walking guard became a mix of orange, red, and yellow, the familiar signs of heat. He saw the same colors at various parts of the facility, a spot of it where the third guard currently was. Sweeping his head from side to side, he saw…no other signs of heat.

Okay, maybe there really were only these three guards out here. Well, getting in was going to be easier than he thought.

Shutting off the thermal vision, Deadshot made his way back to the team. "I've got three roaming guards, no other signs of hidden ones. There's an entry point dead ahead. Once the next guard passes, we'll head for the entry point. Spider, I trust you can destroy whatever tracks we leave when we move in?"

"Consider it done," the assassin confirmed.

"Good; once we're inside, we'll split into two teams. Boomerang, Diablo, and I will be searching wherever they keep intel they have on this program of theirs. Plastique, Electrocutioner, and Black Spider will be prepping the place for demolition. We'll rely on Plastique's expertise on where to set the charges for maximum damage."

"What about guards inside of the facility?" Electrocutioner asked.

"Evade or do something about them. Just whatever you do, don't get caught," the sharpshooter told him. "I don't want a repeat of the last base. I'm not seeing a runway here, so I doubt we can just jump into another Soviet bomber and fly out again."

"And the signal?" Black Spider inquired.

"Keep radio silent until both teams have completed their objectives. I will relay when we have the intel; Plastique, you relay when all of the bombs are in place. The main objective is blowing this place up. If we want a ride home from Waller, she needs to see a giant cloud of smoke rising into the air. The pick-up site is a couple miles east of here, so if anyone gets separated, head there. If you have a tail, shake them off or deal with them. I don't know about any of you, but I'm sick of these cold weather missions. Let's do this one right this time."

"Since when do we ever do a mission right?" Harkness muttered under his breath.

Well, wasn't he being a Negative Nancy. Maybe after this mission, Deadshot would put in a request with Waller to not be on a team with Harkness anymore. He had a way of grating on his nerves lately.

"If the peanut gallery is done, let's get this over with." The sniper turned and walked back to his vantage point. The others followed after him, Black Spider taking up the rear as he was going to make certain they didn't leave a trace of their movements behind. Now they just had to wait for the next roaming guard.


As soon as they had entered, they had split up. With Electrocutioner, Plastique, and Black Spider going off to get a big boom ready, that left him, Deadshot, and Diablo to their little task.

Not so little, but this was something Boomerang was more familiar with. It was a classic breaking and entering, only with a lot more armed guards and higher bar for failure. Failure this time undoubtedly meant losing his head too, and he quite liked his head in one piece.

Now this place, this place was definitely Soviet. Or Communist. Weren't they the same thing? Didn't matter, really. Their choice in making such places sucked. There was nothing modern about this place, and he grimaced at the wide hallway they were in. If anyone caught them here, it would almost be the same thing as being out in the open.

The walls were a little rough, what with being concrete and all. Very plain, very gray, and no personal touches whatsoever. That was just great, it meant there would be no landmark or touchstone to help with navigating it. With everything looking the same, it was going to make it hard to know where they were.

As much as he wanted the bitch about it, the Australian knew that it wasn't going to change anything, so might as well try to get it over with. Deadshot was at least taking the lead while he and Diablo held back. Let the sniper peek around the corners and make sure it was safe before gesturing for them to follow. Naturally, he went second, moving quickly and stealth like despite his boots and the coat he wore. He had learned a long time ago how to move in them quietly.

You never knew when stealth would help with speedsters.

That left Diablo to follow. Quiet as a mouse, that one. That pyro who was nowhere near as pyromanic as ol' Heatwave was going to be bringing up the rear. Boomerang figured that if anyone would be doing that, it might as well be their local pacifist who refused to light things up. That way he could be their own little alarm and buy them a few seconds to either handle the threat or run for their lives.

Holding a boomerang in each hand, the not-quite-a-Captain waited for Deadshot to check and scout ahead. All the while, he kept checking around for anyone who might be patrolling these halls—wait, he could hear footsteps. It sounded like they were back the way they came, meaning someone was heading their way.

There was no real place to hide around here, not in this hallway. So wide and empty, they were basically hiding in intersecting hallways, but that was only going to work for so long. He didn't want to risk hissing, but it seemed that Deadshot had also heard their approaching company. The sniper was too far ahead, so it was him and Diablo for a moment.

Looking around quickly, Boomerang spotted a closed, metal door. No way to know what was on the other side, but there weren't a lot of choices here. Moving to it, one of his gloved hands began searching for anything that would open the door in the area you would expect a doorknob to be. He found a handle that inlaid into the metal, and a pull had the door sliding to the left. Risking it, Boomerang slipped in first and found a half-full supply closet. Of all the dumb luck.

Behind him, Diablo slipped in and Boomerang slid the door as close to closed as he could. He didn't want to go all the way, needing to hear and see the advancing patrol. In several seconds, he spotted uniformed men passing by, two of them talking with one another in Russian. He peered through the thin crack he kept between the door and its jamb, listening as the talking voices gradually became quieter and quieter. That was a sign of them getting further away…but there was more.

Another patrol passed by, this one crossing the intersection that was nearby. Their path brought them right past the cracked opened door, causing Boomerang to hold his breath. Boot feet clomped against the concrete floor, heavy and thudding as if none of these blokes had considered they might want to sneak up on someone.

Boomerang waited, listening carefully for any sign that somebody was returning. Carefully, he opened the thin crack, light brightening and lighting up the supply closet all the more. Peering out, he looked up and down the hallway, carefully getting confirmation that they weren't about to be spotted.

Remaining cautious, the Australian slipped out, looking up and down the hallway while heading back in the direction he had last seen Deadshot. The sniper was nowhere to be found. Perfect. It was just him.

His eyes snapped to aside, soon followed by the rest of his head as he sensed someone behind him—right, Diablo. It was just him and Diablo. At least there was a meat shield if he needed…

Wait. Using the corner of the intersecting hallway to better keep out of sight, Boomerang looked around and saw slipping out of another room was their erstwhile team leader. There the bastard was.

A look was sent their way, and a hand gesture urged some urgency. Right, they needed to keep sneaking around.

How hard was it to find a computer in this place? Hacking was going to be needed so they could get their hands on that juicy intel that Waller wanted. The sooner they found one, the sooner they could get their part of the job done, and then it was home sweet home.

Yeah…home sweet…no. No, just back to base and another mission. Like always. Hopefully it would be some place warmer next time.

Not waiting, Boomerang followed after Deadshot with Diablo on his heels.


It wasn't Canidite, but it would do its job.

Plastique shoved the thin detonator pin into the C4 clay. It was a familiar action, though honestly she preferred her home-made batch. It had a lot more oomph to it. There was also the matter of her own explosive power, but since she wanted a coordinated detonation, she needed to use the old standbys. Don't get her wrong, C4 would get the job done, but she had to be quite strategic with where she put them.

For instance, she wanted load-bearing walls and pillars. You knock those out, and they would cause an entire building to drop. Since this was a military base at some point—since every place the Soviets built had to have a military presence—that meant the building was reinforced to weather explosions and bombings. Of course, most of those designs expected the explosion to happen outside of the building rather than inside.

There was also the fact that she had to hide her little bomb packages so that way they weren't discovered before they went boom. Typically, high corners were a safe bet since most people didn't pay attention to those areas. She shoved the little explosive right into one such corner, turning on the detonator once finished.

She had used a shelf to get high enough for this corner, and she used it to climb back down to the floor. She snatched up a duffle bag that had more C4 and detonators and got moving. She saw that big guy, Electrocutioner, waiting for her. He spotted her the moment she was visible and immediately fell in line.

That just left their not-so itsy, bitsy spider.

"Where's the other guy?" she questioned, keeping her voice low.

"He heard something, footsteps he said," Electrocutioner told her. "He went to check."

"Just as long as he cleans up after himself," she muttered. The place they were in was a long hallway, but it seemed some very old, very rusted metal shelves had been put here. Chances were they were moved here to get them out of the way, which was alright for her. That meant this place wasn't regularly checked.

The two went further down the hallway, eventually coming up to a few doors. Checking them, most were empty, save for a few forgotten Soviet mementoes. One room had a ripped Soviet flag that had clearly seen better days in 1989. Another had little aged leaflets, propaganda pamphlets decrying the evils of America and the righteousness of Communism.

Plastique wasn't all that big on politics, but she was definitely a big Capitalist. Capitalists paid better.

Ignoring these forgotten rooms, the demolition expert kept up the search until she found a door that led to a much larger room. This one was stuffed full of shelves with books. Doing some mental math in her head, one of the walls in here was part of the same load-bearing wall she had been placing explosives. She could probably get a couple more planted here.

The wall she wanted was to her right, which just so happened to have the same rusty bookshelves, though these were perpendicular to the wall rather than parallel. Going between two of them she went to wall and dropped to a knee, digging into her duffle bag to get the explosives and detonator.

"Someone's coming," she suddenly heard Electrocutioner say.

Immediately, Plastique stopped her work. She pulled out a handgun and crept to the end of the shelves she was between, peering out around one to look at the door. Electrocutioner was out of sight somewhere, though no doubt he was ready to blast away with that electric gauntlet of his.

That's when she heard it. There was the steady beat of footsteps, each step louder than the last. They stopped momentarily at the door, only for the door to open a second later.

For a moment, Plastique saw a guy sharply dressed in a uniform, a hat on his head, AK-47 in hand. Then he promptly fell forward, landing on his face on the floor.

Behind him was Black Spider, holding a knife with blood dripping from the blade.

Plastique relaxed, holstering her gun. "We were wondering where you were," she said as she emerged from her cover.

"Need help cleaning that up?" Electrocutioner grunted as he too appeared.

"I've got this," the assassin responded, kneeling down to clean his knife off with the guard's clothes. Once he was satisfied, he sheathed the knife and began dragging the body away from the door, the door swinging shut a moment later. He dragged the body to a corner of the room, laid it on its side, and maneuvered arms and legs to where it looked like it was in the fetal position. There was a long forgotten footlocker nearby, and he dragged it over to place it between the body and the door.

Of course, all of that left a nice trail of blood on the floor from where the body had been dragged..

"Don't forget to clean that up," she said before she returned to her duffle bag, preparing another explosive.

"This isn't my first time hiding a body," Black Spider retorted. She clearly touched a nerve there.

"It better not be the first time you cleaned up blood either," she shot back. "The last thing we need is some random guard to check this place for the first time in years, and find a blood trail right there."

"Pretty sure Black Spider killed the random guard in that case," Electrocutioner replied, amusement in his tone. He clearly wasn't helping the situation.

"You can help him clean then, since you're wanting to be useful," Platique flippantly told him. She shoved a detonator into the C4 she was holding, then placed it on the floor, right where the shelf was up against the wall, forming a corner. Making sure the detonator was on, she then stood up and went to another part of the wall, setting up another explosive, this one going onto a shelf. She had to move a couple books so that way there was room. Absently, she looked at the cover of one of the books, and yep, it was in Russian. Couldn't read it if she tried.

She'd get one more bomb planted here, and then they'd be off. There were other places in this building they needed to get bombs placed. If it all worked out, they'd have this place wired and ready to go up in smoke when Deadshot's team was done with their objective.

"Run into other guards?" she overheard Electrocutioner ask.

"Two," Black Spider confirmed. "They've been disposed of."

"You weren't kidding when you said this wasn't your first time hiding a body," the Man of Death joked.

"Neither cleaning up the blood," the other guy replied.

Plastique rolled her eyes. Boys were still boys, even when they were men.