Hi everyone basically you might be wondering where did i get crazy idea like this. Well it did start out as superman crossovers now its a justice league dark crossover. I foxus more on the characters kike in the game marvels midnight suns where the pacing flows from the character interactions.
Lex Luthor sat in his tower, gazing out at the sprawling hellfire of a city below. His mind churned with schemes to delay and distract the Justice League while he worked on his ultimate plan. He needed chaos—something unpredictable and relentless to throw his enemies off balance. And luckily, he had just the pawns for the job.
A streak of red lightning tore through the room, signaling the arrival of Reverse-Flash. Eobard Thawne smirked, stepping aside to reveal three figures standing behind him: Vox, Valentino, and Velvette—the Vees, notorious agents of discord.
"Found them," Thawne announced smugly, brushing off his suit.
"Excellent," Lex said with a calculated grin. He reached into a secure case and retrieved a vial of glowing green energy—the raw embodiment of Envy's Sin energy. "As promised."
Thawne snatched the vial from Luthor's hand, examining it briefly before vanishing in a blur of lightning, leaving the room eerily quiet save for the three figures now glaring at Lex.
Vox, towering and menacing, stepped forward with a low growl. "What the fuck did you call us for, Luthor? I don't work for free, and I don't take orders from anyone."
Valentino adjusted his tie, his grin sharp and oily. "Yeah, Lexy boy. You better have a damn good reason for dragging us into this little war of yours. My time ain't cheap."
Velvette giggled softly, her eyes gleaming with a chaotic light as she leaned against Valentino. "Oooh, this better be fun. You know how bored I get."
Lex met their glares with an unflinching gaze, his confidence unshaken. "I didn't summon you to waste your time," he said smoothly. "I have a proposition. The Justice League is meddling in matters far beyond their understanding, and I need… specialists like you to keep them occupied. In return, you'll be generously compensated. Power, influence, whatever your hearts desire."
Vox crossed his arms, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. "You better not be jerking us around, Luthor. If this is a waste of time, you'll regret it."
Luthor's smile widened as he leaned forward, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Trust me, gentlemen—and lady—you'll find this job quite… rewarding. Now, tell me, how would you three like a little vacation to Earth?"
The room fell silent for a beat, and then Vox and Val show their devilish grins spreading like wildfire, but Velvette was hesitant as if she knows lex was up to something.
In the House of Mystery, Deadshot was testing out his arsenal at the makeshift firing range. The sharp cracks of gunfire echoed through the dimly lit room as he methodically destroyed the human-shaped targets. Each shot landed perfectly, holes puncturing heads and hearts with clinical precision. To most, his unerring aim was impressive, but for Deadshot, it was more than skill—it was necessity.
"Compensating much?" Carmilla's voice cut through the sound of gunfire. She leaned against the doorway, her eyes scanning the ruined targets.
"Not really," Deadshot replied, barely glancing at her as he reloaded an assault rifle.
"You helped me once," Carmilla said, stepping closer. "You and the League saved my daughter."
Deadshot said nothing, focusing instead on emptying another clip into fresh targets. The silence hung heavy between them until Carmilla reached out and stopped him, her hand on the barrel of the rifle. "Let's play a game," she said, pulling a sleek pistol from her side.
Deadshot arched a brow. "I'm not crazy enough to play Russian roulette."
Carmilla smirked. "Not that kind of game. This one's simple: hit the bullseye, and you get to ask me a question. I hit it, I get to ask you one. Like this."
Without looking, she raised her pistol and fired. The bullet struck dead center, a perfect bullseye. She turned back to him, her smirk widening. "Why did you become an assassin?"
Deadshot whistled, impressed but not rattled. He holstered the rifle and picked up one of his own pistols. "Most of my jobs are to support my daughter," he admitted, his tone even. "I make sure she's safe. Hell, I even forced Amanda Waller to guarantee her education—straight through college."
Carmilla studied him for a moment, her expression softening. She could see the truth in his words, and it resonated. She'd do anything for her daughter too. The silence between them felt less heavy now, a mutual understanding settling in the space.
Deadshot raised his pistol, fired a single round, and struck the bullseye effortlessly. He turned to her, his voice calm but curious. "How'd you die?"
Carmilla's expression darkened, a flicker of pain crossing her face before she spoke. "Police raid," she said, her voice quieter now. "I was involved in gun racketeering. It wasn't a clean life, but everything I did was to protect my daughters." Her gaze dropped for a moment, but then she lifted it, her eyes hardening. "They stormed the place without warning. Guns blazing. We didn't stand a chance."
Deadshot's grip on his weapon tightened, though his face remained unreadable. "Tough way to go," he said after a beat, his tone carrying an unspoken respect.
Carmilla nodded. "Yeah, but I'd do it all again if it meant keeping them safe."
The room fell silent once more, the echoes of gunfire replaced by the unspoken weight of their shared pain. Carmilla raised her pistol, took aim, and fired another bullseye. Her voice was steady but curious. "You drive yourself to never miss. Why?"
Deadshot hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening. "Parents gunned down," he said curtly, his eyes narrowing as he avoided her gaze.
Carmilla tilted her head slightly, her sharp instincts kicking in. "deja de mentir, I know when a man lies," she said softly but firmly, her piercing gaze locking onto him.
Deadshot exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Fine," he muttered. "My dad… he was a drunk, a mean bastard. Beat the hell out of all of us. One day, I decided enough was enough. I grabbed his rifle, thought I'd put an end to it by shooting him between the eyes." He paused, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "And I missed."
Carmilla's eyes softened as she listened, her own painful memories surfacing.
"I didn't just miss," Deadshot continued, his voice cracking. "I hit my brother instead. Killed him." He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "From that day on, I made a promise—to myself, to my brother—that I'd never miss again. I spent years in the Marines, honing my skills, trying to bury the guilt. But it didn't matter."
He glanced at the pistol in his hand, his grip loosening. "When I finally tracked my old man down, he was already dying. Some disease had done the job for me. I wasn't even there to take his final breath."
Deadshot suddenly raised his pistol and fired at a target. The bullet went wide, striking the edge of the range. He lowered the gun, his hands trembling with rage. "I couldn't even get that satisfaction," he muttered, his voice barely audible.
Carmilla stepped closer, her gaze steady and empathetic. "You carry that weight with you," she said gently. "But it doesn't define you. It's what you choose to do with it now that matters."
Deadshot finally looked up, a faint, weary smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "How about dinner? If the world's turning to shit, might as well enjoy the small things while we can," he said, his tone casual but with a glimmer of sincerity beneath it.
Carmilla raised an eyebrow, surprised but amused by the sudden change in tone. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Lawton," she replied with a small smile. "I think that would be nice."
He holstered his pistol, his usual stoic demeanor softening just a bit. "Don't get used to it," he quipped, his smirk growing.
Carmilla chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't dream of it. But… maybe tonight, we forget the targets and the past. Just for a little while."
Deadshot nodded, his smirk fading into a more genuine expression. "Yeah. Just for a little while."
As the two walked out of the firing range together, the weight of their shared pain seemed to lift, if only for a moment, replaced by a quiet understanding and the possibility of finding solace in each other's company.
Deadshot finally looked up, a faint, weary smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "How about dinner? If the world's turning to shit, might as well enjoy the small things while we can," he said, his tone casual but with a glimmer of sincerity beneath it.
Carmilla raised an eyebrow, surprised but amused by the sudden change in tone. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Lawton," she replied with a small smile. "I think that would be nice."
He holstered his pistol, his usual stoic demeanor softening just a bit. "Don't get used to it," he quipped, his smirk growing.
Carmilla chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't dream of it. But… maybe tonight, we forget the targets and the past. Just for a little while."
Deadshot nodded, his smirk fading into a more genuine expression. "Yeah. Just for a little while."
As the two walked out of the firing range together, the weight of their shared pain seemed to lift, if only for a moment, replaced by a quiet understanding and the possibility of finding solace in each other's company.
In Las Vegas, Valentino was living it up, turning the Sphinx Hotel into his own personal den of vice. The sounds of laughter and lewd content filled the air as he filmed his twisted creations, a perverse grin plastered on his face as he reveled in the chaos. His eyes flickered over the camera, delighting in the madness he was creating.
Meanwhile, in Belle Reve Penitentiary, the situation was far from celebratory. The recording of Valentino's exploits played on the screen, showing the true extent of his depravity. Amanda Waller stood at the front of the room, her expression cold and calculating.
"Apparently, this Valentino wants to make Earth his own personal whorehouse," Waller said, her voice dripping with disdain. "And I don't like it."
Rick Flag leaned forward, his brow furrowing as he took in the footage. "And your suggestion, Waller? Task Force X is shut down."
"Not everything," Waller replied, her tone dismissive. "Congress has ruled out human prisoners for operatives, but that doesn't mean we're out of options."
In the House of Mystery, Harley strolled into the living room, carrying a bowl of popcorn. She plopped down on the couch with a grin, ready to enjoy some downtime. Poison Ivy, Blitzo, Moxxie, angel dust, Millie, and Stolas followed suit, settling in for what they all hoped would be a relaxing movie night.
"Alright, what are we watching?" Blitzo asked, leaning back and stretching his arms across the back of the couch.
Harley gave a dramatic, over-the-top wave of her hand. "Classic monster movie night, baby! And no Justice League to boss us around since they're out for the day."
Just as she hit the remote to turn on the TV, the screen flickered, and a news broadcast appeared. The words "Breaking News" flashed across the screen.
"Fuck," Harley muttered, recognizing the incoming trouble.
"BOO!" Ivy's voice came from the back, her disapproval of the interruption evident.
The news anchor's voice cut through the room: "A demon named Valentino has taken over Las Vegas, and it seems a black ops team is approaching the site."
"Dammit, Waller," Deadshot muttered as he entered the room with Carmilla, clearly not pleased with the development.
"They're gonna get themselves killed," Deadshot added, his voice tense as he ran a hand through his hair. He turned to the group, his expression hardening. "Wanna go on a job?"
"Fuck yeah!" Millie cheered, bouncing up from the couch, her excitement palpable.
The group's focus shifted immediately. With Harley leading the charge, it seemed they had a new mission—one that would take them straight into the heart of the chaos in Las Vegas but angel is hesitant.
The group emerged from the House of Mystery, armed with angelic weapons gleaming in the dim light. Harley, Poison Ivy, Deadshot, Angel, Blitzo, Millie, Moxxie, Stolas, and Carmilla stepped forward, ready for the chaos ahead. They glanced up to see a VTOL aircraft plummeting through the sky, trailing smoke. Moments later, the passengers began to jump out, parachuting or flying down to safety.
From the sky descended Task Force M for Monsters—The Bride of Frankenstein, G.I. Robot, King Shark, Dr. Phosphorus, and Nosfurata—all led by Rick Flag. They landed with precision, their formidable presence adding weight to the already tense situation.
Deadshot stepped forward, smirking. "Hey, Flag."
Rick Flag's expression was a mix of relief and suspicion. "Deadshot? What the hell are you doing here?"
"HEYO!" Harley waved enthusiastically, grinning ear to ear.
"Friends!" King Shark bellowed as he lumbered over and engulfed both Deadshot and Harley in a bone-crushing hug.
"Get that dumb idiot away from me!" Moxxie squeaked, backing up behind Millie, who was eyeing King Shark with a mix of curiosity and caution.
"Aww, Nanaue is a cutie!" Harley giggled, patting King Shark's head like he was an oversized puppy.
"With teeth," Ivy quipped, her tone dry but amused.
The Bride of Frankenstein stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. "What the hell is going on here?"
Blitzo took center stage, twirling one of his angelic weapons for flair. "Long story short, lady, Valentino is an overlord of Hell who controls pornography. And trust me, your guns aren't gonna do squat against him."
"Lucky for you," Carmilla interjected, handing out angelic steel weapons to the Commandos, "we came prepared."
Rick Flag took one of the weapons, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Deadshot. "Floyd, what the hell is really happening here?"
Deadshot sighed, pulling out his communicator. "Call the boss," he said.
Flag reluctantly pulled out his device and contacted Amanda Waller. Her voice came through, cold and authoritative. "You've got my attention, Deadshot. What is it?"
Deadshot didn't sugarcoat it. "Apparently, the reason Valentino is on Earth is because Lex Luthor is now the king of Hell."
A heavy silence followed. Waller's usual commanding tone faltered slightly, replaced by a pause that hinted at genuine concern. If there was anyone capable of unnerving Waller, it was Lex Luthor.
"Can you confirm this?" she finally asked.
"The entire Justice League and Justice League Dark can confirm it," Deadshot replied, sending data over to her. "And I'm working with them until this is handled."
Waller's tone sharpened. "Fine. But you better make damn sure you don't screw this up, Floyd. If Luthor's involved, we're all in deep."
The line went dead, leaving the group to exchange uneasy glances.
"The group moved forward under Flag's command, but Angel hung back, his steps hesitant. Harley noticed and fell into step beside him, her sharp eyes picking up on his unease.
"Hey, fluffball, you okay?" Harley asked, her tone softer than usual.
Angel glanced at her, conflicted. "I'm not. Valentino's my boss, you know? I sold my soul to him. The whole reason I do the porn and drugs is… if I break myself enough, I thought maybe he'd lose interest. Thought maybe he'd let me go."
Harley stopped in her tracks, turning to face him fully. Her eyes narrowed, but there was no judgment in them—just understanding. "Escapism, huh? Believe me, I know what falling for the wrong asshole can do to you. I've got the mental and physical scars to prove it." Her voice dipped into something raw for a moment, a hint of the pain she carried from her time with the Joker.
Angel hesitated, his defenses cracking under Harley's sincerity. "It's just… it feels like no matter what I do, I'm always stuck in his web."
Harley placed a hand on his arm and gave him a crooked smile. "How about this—after we're done bashing his slimy head in, we grab some pizza? No booze, no drugs. Just greasy, cheesy goodness. What d'ya say?"
Angel blinked at her, caught off guard. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously. 'Cause after all the sex crap he's been pulling, I think I'm gonna be sick to the bone just from looking at his gross ass setups," Harley quipped, her tone lightening. Then, with a mock grimace, she added, "Seriously, does he have any limits?"
Angel actually chuckled, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips. "No, he doesn't. But… you know what? I kinda like that idea. Pizza sounds good."
Ivy, who had been walking nearby, smiled softly at the exchange. Harley winked at her girlfriend, her grin widening when Ivy mouthed, Good job.
With a bit of weight lifted from his shoulders, Angel squared his stance. "Alright, let's go kick Val's ass."
"Now that's the spirit!" Harley said, punching his arm lightly before skipping ahead, her energy infectious.
Angel followed, his smile lingering as the group pressed forward, ready to face the chaos awaiting them.
As the group moved through the eerily quiet streets, G.I. Robot suddenly turned his mechanical head toward Blitzo. "Are you a Nazi?" he asked bluntly, his voice devoid of emotion but carrying an air of suspicion.
Blitzo nearly tripped over his own hooves. "The fuck kind of question is that?" he exclaimed, his tail flicking with irritation.
The Bride smirked, clearly amused. "G.I. Robot was built during World War II. His primary function is to kill Nazis. It's… kind of his thing."
Blitzo blinked, still processing the randomness of the accusation. "Even neo-Nazis?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh, yeah," The Bride said with a nod. "He killed 23 of them at a rally not too long ago. That's how he ended up here in Task Force M. Turns out people get a little testy about a walking, talking anti-fascist tank running around unsupervised."
Blitzo stared at G.I. Robot for a moment, then gave a sharp salute. "I actually think you did your country a fuckin' favor, tin man."
G.I. Robot gave a slight nod, his voice carrying a faint hint of pride. "Cheers to the tin man."
Blitzo grinned, glancing at the rest of the group. "Okay, I take it back—this guy's officially my favorite. Somebody get him a beer after this!"
"Only if we survive," The Bride said with a chuckle, motioning for them to keep moving.
As the team pressed on, Blitzo leaned closer to Loona. "I swear, if this robot ever decides I look like a Nazi, you're backing me up, right?"
"i think so?" Stolas questions kt
""Good enough," Blitzo muttered, sticking close to the group.
Suddenly, Nanaue's massive hand came down on Stolas head in what he clearly thought was a gentle pat. "Bird!" he said with a toothy grin, his voice booming.
"What is with this shark?" Stolas snapped, pulling away from the rough pat.
King Shark tilted his head, confused. "Big Bird."
Dr. Phosphorus, glowing faintly in the dim light, adjusted his posture as he spoke. "Nanaue is a demigod, said to be the son of the shark god Kamo…ugh…" He trailed off, clearly struggling with the pronunciation.
"Kāmohoaliʻi," Nosfurata said smoothly, her vampiric accent lending a melodic quality to the name.
"Yeah, that guy," Phosphorus said, waving it off.
"All right, Sphinx Hotel," Flag said, pointing toward the looming structure ahead. As they approached, several demons clad in uniforms resembling military garb appeared, clearly working for Valentino open fired on them. The group instinctively took cover.
Blitzo peeked out from behind a barricade and his eyes widened. "Yo, G.I., THESE GUYS ARE FUCKIN' NAZIS!" he shouted.
G.I. Robot's expression, normally neutral, shifted into a terrifyingly gleeful grin. His arms transformed into massive, over-the-top guns bristling with barrels and energy nodes. "Perfect." Without hesitation, he unleashed a storm of bullets, plasma rounds, and explosives in a cacophony of destruction.
"DOWN!" Flag barked, and everyone dove for cover as the area erupted in chaos.
Demons screamed as G.I. Robot's relentless firepower tore through their ranks, leaving behind smoldering craters and shattered debris.
Blitzo peeked out again, a wicked grin on his face. "I think I love this guy."
"I think its like the most beautiful sense of violence i have ever seen." Moxxie said
Millie frabs a tissue and wipes tears
The Bride smirked, casually leaning against a piece of cover. "Told you, he's good at what he does."
Loona, still crouched low, rolled her eyes. "Yeah, great, a walking tank with a vendetta. Totally comforting."
King Shark, watching the carnage, clapped his hands excitedly. "Boom boom!"
Flag sighed, glancing at Deadshot. "This mission is already out of control."
Deadshot smirked. "You expected anything less?"
As the dust settled, G.I. Robot stepped forward, his guns still smoking. "Nazis eliminated. Moving forward."
"Hell yeah, Tin Man!" Blitzo cheered, grinning wildly as he followed behind G.I. Robot, who led the charge with relentless firepower.
"Stay sharp," Rick Flag ordered, motioning for the group to advance cautiously. His eyes scanned the dark, ornate hallways of the Sphinx Hotel. "Valentino's not gonna go down this easy."
The group moved forward, the tension in the air palpable. The once-glitzy interiors of the hotel were now twisted into a demonic playground, with pulsating red lights and grotesque murals decorating the walls.
A new wave of Valentino's demonic lackeys emerged from the shadows, snarling and armed. Ivy reacted instantly, her hands glowing with green energy as vines burst from the ground, snaking toward the demons. The vines coiled tightly around their targets, thorny spikes piercing through their flesh as the demons shrieked in pain.
"Stay down, dirtbags!" Ivy hissed, twisting her hand to tighten the vines.
Angel Dust leaped into action, unloading a barrage of bullets from his twin pistols with remarkable precision. The demons barely had a chance to counter before collapsing into heaps of ash.
"Hell yeah, who's next?" Angel taunted, blowing a puff of smoke from his gun barrel.
After clearing the area, the group pressed on, eventually entering a grand chamber that had been grotesquely transformed into Valentino's throne room. At the far end, Valentino sat smugly on a golden pharaoh's throne, flanked by two scantily clad demons who fawned over him like living decorations. He puffed lazily on his cigarette, the smoke curling around his head like a crown.
As the group entered, Valentino's crimson eyes locked onto them. His lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning forward slightly. "What the fuck are you supposed to be?"
Blitzo, never one to miss a chance for theatrics, stepped forward with exaggerated flair, spreading his arms wide. "Um, oh, THE CREATURE COMMANDOES!"
The Bride raised an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. "We're calling ourselves that now?"
"I like it," G.I. Robot said, his monotone voice carrying a hint of satisfaction.
"Would you rather be called the Suicide Squad?" Deadshot asked dryly, his weapons primed and ready.
The Bride hesitated, then shrugged. "Point taken."
Valentino's gaze shifted, landing on Angel Dust. His smirk grew darker, more predatory. "Angel," he sneered, taking another drag from his cigarette. The smoke twisted unnaturally, forming a glowing chain that shot out and wrapped around Angel's neck in an instant. Valentino yanked the chain, pulling Angel forward with a brutal jerk.
"You're running with these losers now?" Valentino hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing more than a toy! Always have been, always will be."
Angel struggled against the chain, clawing at it as his bravado faltered. Valentino's grip tightened, the chain glowing brighter as it pulsed with his demonic energy.
Suddenly, a deafening crack echoed through the room. A glowing, angelic bullet ripped through Valentino's shoulder, sending him reeling back in his throne. The chain dissolved instantly, and Angel fell to the floor, gasping for air.
All eyes turned to Harley Quinn, who stood with a smoking pistol in hand, her trademark grin plastered across her face. "Oops!" she chirped, spinning the gun with a playful flick of her wrist. "Sorry, I was aiming for your fucking head."
She leaned forward, her grin turning wicked. "But to be fair, you'd probably fuck a woodchipper if it had an ass big enough."
Valentino snarled, clutching his wounded shoulder as his golden chains began to glow ominously, his fury radiating through the room. "You bitch!" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You have no idea who you're messing with!"
"Yeah, yeah, save the monologue," Deadshot interrupted, stepping up with his guns locked on target. His voice was calm, almost bored. "Let's just skip to the part where you go down."
Blitzo cracked his knuckles, his grin widening. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."
Valentino pushed himself off the throne, his aura darkening as the room seemed to tremble under his power. His smirk returned, now filled with malice. "You think you can take me down?" His voice boomed, echoing off the walls. "Fine. Let's see what you've got."
The room erupted into absolute chaos as the group launched their assault on Valentino and his demonic forces. Gunfire echoed through the chamber, sparks and flashes lighting up the dark, twisted throne room.
Deadshot, ever the marksman, moved with precision, firing controlled bursts from his rifle, each shot taking down a demon. Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie worked together in chaotic harmony, their smaller firearms delivering rapid-fire destruction. G.I. Robot stood tall amidst the chaos, his arms transformed into massive cannons, raining heavy firepower across the room. The Bride charged into the fray, her own sidearm roaring as she mowed down enemies.
On the other side of the battlefield, Harley Quinn darted through the melee with her trademark unpredictability, her baseball bat swinging wildly as she smashed demon after demon. Poison Ivy stood firm, her vines tearing through the air, ensnaring and impaling anything that dared approach her. Carmilla fought with elegance, wielding her angelic blade with deadly precision, cutting down foes as though dancing through the chaos.
Stolas hovered above the battlefield, his wings outstretched and his staff glowing with hellish power as he rained down destructive spells. Nosfurata moved with a predatory grace, her fangs bared as she tore into demons with supernatural ferocity. Dr. Phosphorus, his body glowing with radioactive energy, incinerated enemies with blasts of fiery light. Meanwhile, King Shark charged headlong into the fray, his massive jaws snapping and his brute strength crushing demons left and right.
In the midst of the chaos, Harley slid under a group of snarling demons, her bat gripped tightly in her hands. She came up directly in front of Valentino, grinning wickedly as she swung upward with all her strength, landing a devastating blow square between his legs.
"Take that, you sleazy bastard!" she cackled as Valentino let out a strangled cry, doubling over in pain.
Seizing the opportunity, Deadshot raised his rifle, his sights locked on the dazed overlord. With a calm, almost casual air, he pulled the trigger. The shot landed true, striking Valentino in the same unfortunate spot Harley had just targeted.
Valentino stumbled back, his hands clutching his bleeding wound. The ichor oozing from between his legs was a thick, tar-like black. His eyes flared with a mixture of rage and disbelief. "You shot my dick?" he hissed, his voice rising in pitch.
Deadshot smirked, shrugging as he activated his wrist-mounted guns. "Honestly? I saw it in a movie once. Normally, I wouldn't go for it, but with you?" He fired a barrage of rounds, each one slamming into Valentino's chest and shoulders, driving him back toward his throne. "Made an exception."
The rest of the squad didn't waste a second. G.I. Robot's cannons roared, Deadshot's wrist guns spat a hail of bullets, and Angel Dust screamed as he unleashed an unrelenting spray from his Tommy gun. Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie emptied their clips into the demon lord, while Harley, Carmilla, and Ivy fought off any remaining demons that dared approach.
Valentino stumbled, his body riddled with holes, the black ichor pouring from his wounds pooling around him. Angel Dust's screams of rage echoed through the chamber as he fired wildly, tears of anger and liberation streaming down his face.
"You don't own me anymore, you piece of shit!" Angel roared, his voice cracking as he unloaded the last of his ammunition into Valentino's chest.
Finally, as the gunfire subsided and the smoke began to clear, Valentino's battered, bullet-riddled body slumped back onto his throne. The once-smug overlord now sat lifeless, his crimson eyes dim and his golden chains shattered.
As the group began to leave the smoldering battlefield, Angel Dust lingered for a moment, staring at Valentino's lifeless body. The weight of everything—the torment, the manipulation, the years of being treated as a toy—hit him all at once. His shoulders shook, and before he could stop himself, he turned and walked toward Harley and Ivy, his steps unsteady.
Harley, noticing the look on his face, dropped her usual playful demeanor and opened her arms. "C'mere, fluffball," she said softly.
Angel didn't hesitate. He collapsed into her embrace, his long arms wrapping around Harley tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder. He trembled against her, letting out a shuddering breath that he'd been holding in for what felt like years.
"I'm free," Angel whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm actually free…"
Ivy stepped forward, her expression unusually tender as she placed a comforting hand on Angel's back. "You're not just free—you're with us now. You're safe."
Angel looked up at Ivy, his tears staining the fur on his cheeks, and without a word, he reached out and pulled her into the hug as well. The three of them stood there for a moment, surrounded by the chaos they'd just survived, but for Angel, it was the first time in a long time that he felt something close to peace.
"Thanks," Angel finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For everything. I didn't think anyone would care enough to help someone like me."
Harley pulled back slightly, cupping Angel's face in her hands with a mischievous but genuine grin. "Hey, we don't do the 'poor me' thing around here, got it? You're not 'someone like you.' You're just you. And you're a hell of a lot more than that slimeball ever deserved."
Ivy nodded in agreement, her lips curving into a soft smile. "You've got a fresh start now, Angel. And if anyone tries to mess with you again, well…" She flexed her fingers, her vines twitching as if eager for action. "They'll regret it."
Angel let out a small laugh, wiping his eyes. "You two are something else, you know that?"
Harley smirked. "Yeah, we know. Now let's go. That pizza's not gonna eat itself, and I'm starving."
With that, the three of them joined the rest of the group, but not before Angel gave Harley and Ivy one last grateful squeeze. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn't alone—and that was a feeling worth fighting for.
As they walked back to regroup with the others, Angel let out a small chuckle, his usual sass returning bit by bit. "You know Charlie's gonna freak out about this, right? Me teaming up with you guys, wrecking Valentino's empire. She's all about the peace and love thing, and this… well, this ain't exactly her style."
Harley smirked, twirling her bat over her shoulder. "Oh, I'm sure Char-Char can be forgiving, especially when she hears about all the crap that sleazebag put you through. Besides, you didn't do this alone. You had a whole squad of crazy badasses backing you up. She's gotta give us points for teamwork!"
Ivy nodded, her tone calm and reassuring. "Charlie might not like the methods, but I think she'll understand the results. Valentino had it coming, and you've earned the right to move on from him. If Charlie's as kind as you say, she'll see that."
They all amile and head back outside to the nearest pizza shop.