Suicide Squad (24 page)

“Yeah, hell no. You’re not turning into a loser on my watch.” Deadshot stared at him then turned to Flag. “Hey. Yo! Use your remote thingie. Blow this cat’s head right the hell off. Do him the favor, huh?”

“I’m kinda busy here, Lawton, in case you couldn’t tell.” Flag was firing at the creatures closest to him. It took at least two full mags to bring them to their knees, and another to put them out of their misery.

Deadshot turned again to Diablo.

“You’re a punk,” he shouted, lashing out. “You know that? We’re all getting smoked and you wanna go out like a bitch?” Diablo tried to ignore him, but his face went flushed. He mumbled something he used to keep himself calm, but Deadshot kept yelling at him. Kept hitting him.

Lawton saw Diablo’s hands redden and knew he was finally getting to him. He had to be careful now. Very careful.

He slammed his fist into Diablo’s face.

“C’mon, baby. Do something,” he shouted. The big man’s skin turned a deep red, and began steaming. “You can do it, little girl. You can fight back. You can be a man.”

“Do something,” he screamed. “
Do something.
”

A SEAL crouched nearby, firing at a creature that calmly made its way toward him. The EA aimed his rifle and fired. The SEAL stared plaintively at Diablo, and died.

“What are you waiting for, you baby?” Deadshot kept hitting the big man, trying to get him to react. Trying to wake him from his stupor and help save them, because no one else could. “You know if you helped, these soldiers wouldn’t have to die. Why won’t you help them? Why won’t you do something?
Anything
?”

* * *

Diablo looked at the dead SEAL. Then, suddenly, he felt a sting in his arm. He stared, and saw that the creature who killed the SEAL had fired again—this time at him. He looked back at the dead SEAL, then at the EA.

He screamed with rage and frustration.

Deadshot started to say something, but Diablo shoved him aside. He raised his hands and flames appeared.

He screamed again and launched a column of fire at the creature. It burst into flame and writhed in pain as the fires burned through it, melting it, incinerating it.

“Hey, c’mon, man,” Deadshot said, and there was panic in his voice. “Be cool. You don’t wanna roast me. I was just trying to get you there. We need you, man—to save the whole of Planet Earth, and look. You showed them you’re a hero. You know what that means. You’re the big time, man. The Fire Man. Hero of the people, and all you gotta do is focus.”

Diablo peered venomously at Deadshot. He reached out to grab him, and his hands were still on fire, hungry to burn.

Harley pushed past Deadshot and gazed intensely at Diablo.

“It’s true, you know,” she shouted, “what he said. You were wonderful, D. You saved us, and even better, my big, fiery hero, you saved me.” She was standing on her toes, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Oooh, D, you make me so hot ’n’ bothered. Touching you is like canoodling a furnace. Maybe a little hotter, but I think I like it.”

He stared at her, knew she was trying to control him, but it had been so long since anyone had touched him like that. He lowered his internal heat, and returned to normal.

“I am sorry if I frightened you, Harley,” he said. “I would never have hurt you.”

“Hey, D. I know that,” she responded. “I mean, you and me. Would we make a real hot couple or what?”

“Good job, Diablo,” Flag said. “Thanks for finally joining the rest of us.”

Deadshot leaned in. “Ignore him, but you did good. Real good.”

* * *

Flag rested against the balcony wall. The Squad was coming together, but still they were just a handful of nutjobs and psychopaths, acting like heroes. They were about to go into a battle against a pair of big bads who could create as many deadly creatures as they needed.

They were overwhelmed and underprepared. Despite this victory, it wouldn’t be long before they fell before the greater power.

Deadshot joined Flag and stared out across the balcony. A few EAs appeared here and there, but GQ and his SEALs dealt with them as quickly as they could. They watched another SEAL die, but not before taking down five bad guys. They didn’t need to calculate numbers to know that they would run out of fighters long before the spuds did.

“You know, in the beginning, it was impossible to stop them,” Deadshot commented. “Less impossible now. Maybe they’re cranking out these things too fast. Not giving their babies time to grow up.”

Flag thought about it. “Could be,” he replied. “Doesn’t matter, though. Easy or hard, they still gotta die, and we gotta be the ones to make sure they do.”

“So, Flag,” Deadshot said, “why are they after you like that? I mean, it’s obvious you are the man they’re after, and since it sure ain’t your swap meet cologne, what’s your secret?”

“I have no idea,” Flag lied.

* * *

The EA shook himself awake. Everyone thought he was dead.

Everyone was wrong.

He rose to his feet, pulled himself together and staggered away.

The SEALs and the Squad proceeded up the stairs. Harley kept climbing even as she took a deep breath.

“I am definitely out of shape,” she said as soldiers rushed past her as if she were standing still. “God, do I need to work on my cardio.”

Moments later she was alone on the stairs, the others already two landings higher. She looked down the center column and saw the stairs winding toward the basement, disappearing from view.

Memories, dark and joyful, flooded through her.

* * *

It had been raining for more than a week. He was dragging her up a menacing-looking steel stairwell. She giggled as she looked around, getting the lay of the land.

They were inside a large, sprawling factory, at least the size of a football field. Harleen stared at the massive network of tubes and pipes anchored just below its ceiling, all with bottom vents that emptied some glowing liquid into immense room-sized vats.

A hammered steel sign was welded into the side of the vat.

ACE CHEMICALS
FOUNDED 1921

“There,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, but she didn’t care. He was talking to her. “I was born down there.”

In the vats.

She stared into one, mesmerized by the swirling chemical bath below. His birthplace. His mother. Harleen desperately wanted the same.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared into her soul with his madly hypnotic eyes, the same color as his chemical birthplace. “Would you die for me?” he asked.

Quinzel nodded with certainty.

“Yes.”

“No. That’s too easy.” He leaned in closer, his eyes drawing her in. “Would you live for me?” He then smiled The Smile, and it scared the hell out of her.

Quinzel trembled. There was a power about him she could not deny, and she wanted that power to ravage her. He was a lion about to swallow a mouse, and she could hardly wait another instant to be devoured.

But he wouldn’t let her go. Not now. Not yet.

“Will you embrace me and only me?” he demanded. She nodded vigorously.

Of course. There’ll never be anyone else.

“Will you bind your spirit to mine, in hate?”

If not you, who else? Bind me. Bind me any way you want.

“Do you consign your soul to me?”

Duh. What do you think I’ve been trying to do? C’mon. Let’s do this already.

“Do you laugh at the world in disgust?”

Always have. Always will. ’Specially if we can laugh at it together.

All she said to him was, “Yes.”

Joker backed away. He stared at her, studied her. He was the doctor now, and she the patient, but he still needed to make sure.

“Do not say this oath thoughtlessly,” he said, his expression serious. “Desire becomes surrender. Surrender becomes power. Do you want it? Do you really want it?”

She looked at him with undying love in her eyes.

“I do,” she joyously said. “I do.”

“Then goodbye, Dr. Quinzel.” He took a step back and gestured toward the edge of the vat. Without hesitating, she stepped off the platform and plunged into the churning liquid below.

* * *

Impressed, he watched her disappear into the hellish brew. She was gone.

Forever
, he thought.
Problem solved.
He turned from the edge of the platform and dusted off his hands, but then he paused and touched his heart.

“What is this? I feel something. Pain? Maybe. Food poisoning? That’s a possibility. Love? Impossible. No way. Could never happen.”

The pain was in his heart, and it wasn’t going away. “Nonono… This can’t be. I do not fall in love. Certainly not with a crackpot. I don’t need someone to complete me. I’m loony enough for two families.”

He turned back and stared into the vat, but still wasn’t seeing her bobbing to the surface, choking on the chemicals, then floating face down in the gunk and dying. Which was the plan he’d had for her.

Without another thought, he jumped off the edge of the platform and dove into the churning mass below.

He disappeared into the vat. Time ticked by.

Tick…

Tick…

Tick.

Suddenly, he broke the surface. The girl was limp in his arms. As they floated, he looked at her and began giggling. Her flesh had been bleached white, just like his. Only she was a babe, and her skin had an alluring alabaster glow to it.

He stared at her for many more ticks before he realized she wasn’t moving. Or breathing. Was she already dead?

“Nononono,” he said. “I’m not done with you. I’ve got many years of humiliation I want to heap upon you, Doctor.” He put his lips over hers and breathed life back into her tiny, little, sexy, sexy body.

Finally, her eyes opened.

“Wait, wait,” he said. “You’re not Dr. Quinzel.” He didn’t know if he should be overjoyed that she was still alive, or angry that she was no longer the woman who wanted to die for his sins. “Your eyes. Your skin. Your hair. It’s all different. If you’re not Dr. Harleen Quinzel, eminent psychiatrist to the outrageous and crazy, then who are you?”

She looked up at the Joker and grinned.

“I’m Harley Quinn,” she said. “You’re my Puddin’.”

Joker moved in and kissed her hard on the lips while she began gnawing on his.

When they came up for air, she added, “You’re my Mister J.”

* * *

Good times.
Harley sat on the stairs, eyes closed, a distant smile on her face, tears streaming down.

She wanted to be with him now, and wished Mister J would put on his armor and ride in on his big white horse and stomp all these crazy men into so much street pizza. Then the two of them would ride off together and show the world how to really have fun.

There was a muffled sound behind her.

Her eyes snapped open suddenly. Someone was there.

“Mister J!” she exclaimed, hoping against hope. Nevertheless, she pulled out her handgun, and was ready to kill.

“You,” she said, disappointed, staring at Deadshot.

“Yo. Hey, it’s me.”

“Yeah. I know. What do you want?”

Deadshot pointed to her gun. “For starters, you can holster that bad boy. I’m on your side.”

“That would make one, but okay. I won’t blast a hole the size of Wyoming into you. Least not this time.”

“Just making sure you’re all right,” he said. “You fell behind. I didn’t see you.”

Harley fluttered her eyes at him. “You like me. You really like me,” she said, laughing. “Who cares why you’re here. I got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“You might wanna rephrase that. I mean, knowing me.”

Deadshot laughed. “I got to say, Quinn, I used to think you were just insane, but you actually got a sense of humor. Will wonders never cease. Okay, ask away.”

Harley thought about what she wanted, but couldn’t find a subtle way to start the conversation.

“So. You ever been in love?”

“No.” Deadshot shook his head. “Never.”

This time she laughed at him. “Bullshit.”

He walked to the edge of the landing and looked down, away from her.

“You don’t kill as many people as I do and sleep like a kitten at night if you feel love or empathy.”

Harley stared at him. “Figures. Another textbook sociopath—and that’s my certified professional opinion. Or maybe it’s ‘certifiable.’ Anyway, what do you call this?” she said, touching her heart.

Deadshot thought about it for a second before responding.

“Need,” he said. “Nothing more.”

“Sure,” she said after a moment. “Why not?”

* * *

They heard explosions in the distance. Something had triggered one of the claymore mines.

“EA,” he said, professional again. “On the stairs above us.”

“Eewww,” she said back. They had their weapons back in hand even before they separated. “I hear somethin’ up there. You ready?” she asked.

“You really think I’m into delayed gratification?”

She glanced at him and grinned like a tigress before dinner. “Consider yourself lucky. I was about to destroy you.”

Deadshot shot her a dirty look. “I’m the assassin.”

Harley chuckled. “Nah. You’re just the first syllable, and I’m the last. Ass meet sin.”

He stepped back. “Can’t wait to go running back to him, huh? When’s the last time someone was nice to you?”

Harley stared at him, unable to respond as he hit the first landing and headed up the next flight.

“My boyfriend’s going to kill you,” she shouted.

Deadshot laughed and continued on.

They made their way to the top floor, then stopped in front of the huge steel vault door marked E
MERGENCY
O
PERATIONS
. It blocked them from continuing on. Croc tried to push it open but it stood firm.

“Came all this way and now we can’t get inside,” he growled. “Flag, this your idea of a joke?”

“Want me to blow up that baby?” Boomer said, holding a boomerang embedded with C-4. “I got just the right ’rang.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Flag retorted. “This entire floor is mined. One wrong move and that’s all she wrote.”