Suicide Squad (28 page)

GQ leaned in and whispered to Flag so the others wouldn’t hear him.

“He’s right. It’s the least we owe them.”

Flag didn’t like giving in to lowlifes. They didn’t deserve consideration, but the mission was too important to risk defections now.

“Okay, it won’t make one helluva difference far as you’re concerned, but you want the dirt? Fine.” He flipped through Waller’s binder and took out several photos of a ten-foot-tall man, walking the streets of Midway City, laying waste to hundreds of soldiers. He put out dozens of photos, each one horrifying.

“Three days ago a non-human entity appeared in a subway station. It called itself Incubus. First the city government sent cops to check it out. It killed them without raising a sweat. Then the military sent in the Army. Despite being outfitted with every state-of-the-art weapon, the thing, Incubus, took them out, too. In less than thirty seconds. So now they’ve sent me.”

Flag rifled through the photographs. “If you were wondering, these are drone shots. When they tried to send in photographers, the thing killed them, too.”

Boomer turned to Deadshot and gave a laugh. “All those killings yet Flag’s still breathing. Why do only the good die young?”

Deadshot shot him a “shut up” look. He’d seen the photos, and understood that this was far more serious than anyone expected—Flag included.

“You have to understand the extent of Incubus’s power.” Flag tossed several other drone photos for them to look at. “Army Rangers were sent to confront the creature. They shot at it, but the science team said our bullets impacted against its glowing armor, flared brightly for a second or two, then dissolved.

“They tried to engage with it physically,” he continued, “but he used his powers, or whatever you want to call them, and he reduced the Rangers to crystalline blotches. Nobody could get near it. And that’s what we’re up against.”

“So they thought they’d send us to die, too?” Croc said. “Were you using the alien as a convenient alternative to lethal injection?”

Flag was about to give a snarky response, but considered how he might have interpreted what he’d told them.

“No, not at all, Croc,” he said, almost apologetically. “None of us could get near it. You couldn’t either—but she could,” he said, picking up a picture of June. “The witch could.”

“So why are we here? It doesn’t sound like you need us,” Diablo asked.

“Waller’s plan—and I championed it—was to hand June a nanite demolition charge. She was supposed to drop it at the thing’s feet, use her witch powers to warp her way out of there, then we fly economy back to DC.”

“You still haven’t said why we’re here.”

“You asked for the truth,” he growled. “Shut up and I’ll get to it.” Flag picked out several more photos and lay them down for the Squad to see. They showed Flag with four Delta Operatives, moving through the subway tunnel. Flag was wearing a heavy backpack. June Moone was walking beside him.

Harley stared at the pictures of the two of them, studying their body language. She turned to the colonel and gave him a broad smile.

“Look at you two, you rascal, you!” she squealed gleefully. “You guys totally did it, didn’t you? Right in the middle of World War Three Thousand. You rock, Flag.”

He wasn’t listening to her. He was staring at the picture of June.

“Anyway, they sent in me, and a woman with incredible abilities.” He paused, and added, “She’s a witch.”

Harley snorted a laugh. “She twitch her nose, too?”

Flag glared at her. “This isn’t a joke, Quinn. This is real. She’s a witch, as in brooms and black cats. She could turn you into a frog without even thinking. I may even suggest that to her.”

Harley thought about it, and nodded excitedly. “That would be so cool. Ribbit ribbit. When can she start?”

Exasperated, Flag shook his head. “Someone put a gag on her, or I swear I’ll personally cut out her tongue.” Deadshot gave her a look and she suddenly clamped her hands over her mouth, then motioned to zipper it shut.

“Done,” Lawton said. “Right?” He looked at Harley. She bobbed her head up and down in silent agreement.

“I had the nanite charge in my backpack. I took it out and set the timer for two seconds. June was watching.” Flag picked up the photo of him, June, and the Delta operatives. That was where everything had changed.

* * *

“Are you sure?” Flag had asked her.

June looked frightened, but she nodded yes. “I have to. I’m the only one who can.”

He held onto her and kissed her. “Okay,” he said. “You’re on.”

She held Flag and whispered the one word.

“Enchantress.”

In an instant June was gone, only to be replaced by the witch. Flag hesitated a moment to remind himself that this person—the thing he was holding—was not the woman he loved. That only through a bizarre twist of fate or magic or something inexplicable, they were sharing the same space and time.

He showed her the bomb and pointed to a button on the detonator.

“Once you put it in place, just push this button and drop it. It’s set to explode in two seconds. That should give you time enough to poof your way out of there.”

Enchantress smiled at Flag, not wanting to let him go.

“Darling,” she said, “I’d like to show you the world.”

“Seen it. Not impressed,” he said, calibrating the bomb’s timing mechanism. “Okay. It’s ready. You can take it.”

Enchantress only laughed. She leaned in, gave him a kiss, pressed the button then disappeared in an instant…

…leaving Flag holding the armed bomb.

Two seconds.

That was all he needed.

The top button armed the bomb, but it was designed with an emergency override, for ordinary soldiers who couldn’t just drop it and disappear. He turned the bomb over and found the small, unmarked pressure plate. He tapped it and the timer disengaged.

* * *

Alone in a room just off the ops center, Amanda Waller was holding Enchantress’s heart in her hand when Flag called to tell her the witch had disappeared.

She hung up, then angrily and repeatedly stabbed the heart with her pen.

* * *

Although her heart was no longer inside her, Enchantress felt excruciating pain radiating outward from her chest. With it she felt Waller’s rage and hatred, growing stronger with each furious strike.

Waller was trying to kill her before she could reclaim the power to resist.

Enchantress reached out through the agony to find Incubus, and located him in a subway tunnel. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Finally, she disappeared.

When she opened her eyes again she was lying on a subway platform, not far behind her brother, who was standing at the edge of the platform, staring into the tunnel. She recognized the signs of the battle that had been waged all around him. Then more pain ripped through her and she moaned, breaking Incubus’s concentration.

“Sister, what is it?” he said, horrified to see Enchantress crying out in agony.

“Quickly. Help me, brother. The woman, Waller, she is trying to destroy my heart. I need your power. I need your strength.”

He leaned next to his sister and took her hands in his, funneling his energy into her.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Do not worry, brother. I will get it back. Until then you’ll sustain me.”

“But I do worry, sister. I fear we are not ready.”

“We will be. You can trust me. We will be.” Enchantress jerked as another spasm rippled through her. She trembled from the pain, from having her heart stabbed again and again, but with Incubus giving her his power, she began to feel stronger. “Brother, I will need you to help me build the machine. It is our time.”

“You’ll use the machine to destroy their world?” he said.

“No, brother, but we will grind it into our dreams. Trust me. You know this is what must be done.” She looked into his eyes and knew he would cooperate. He believed in her completely. She kissed him and placed his hand over her missing heart.

Incubus concentrated, focusing even more energy into her. She glowed and her flesh turned translucent. As her withered body grew, she spread her arms wide, taking in all of the energies Incubus gave her.

“You agree with me, do you not, brother?” she asked, holding him so he could not back away. However, he had no intention of leaving his sister’s grasp.

“Yes, this is what must be done,” he repeated. “To become the gods we were born to be.”

When she was ready, Enchantress gently peeled away from him. She saw a wounded Delta operative lying on the ground, writhing yet staring at her, transfixed. She leaned closer, smiled, held his face close to hers then gently kissed him.

Easy prey
, she thought.
They are all easy prey.

* * *

“Did we blow up and die?” Harley asked. “You can tell me. Am I seeing dead people?”

Deadshot shot her another look. “I know you’re intelligent. Why do you act like an idiot?” he asked.

Harley laughed. “Break the tension? It’s fun? I really am an idiot?” She grinned at him innocently. “Multiple choice, choose one or choose ’em all.”

Harley stared at Flag, about to say something she knew was definitely hilarious, but she decided instead to say nothing.

Deadshot gave her a quick smile.

“Better.”

The batteries in the crashed Blackhawk were still functional, so GQ used them to light the area. As they prepared for the conflict ahead, Flag paused and addressed the entire Squad.

“We okay?” he said. Two words, but they carried a tremendous weight. He had to know he could count on them.

Harley squeaked. “Can I talk now?”

Flag rolled his eyes. She’d never stopped talking, but he nodded yes. Quinn took a deep breath, as if about to launch into another long, pointless diatribe.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Boomer turned to the others. “Really?” he said. “Seriously? We’ve been fighting thousand-eyed monsters who suck up three mags before they croak, and you’re all good with this?”

“He spoke the truth,” Diablo said. “That is all I wanted to hear.”

Croc agreed. “Maybe he lied to us before, or withheld truths, but these monsters deserve to be destroyed. If they destroy mankind, they will certainly destroy us, too.”

Exasperated, Boomer paced and shook his arms wildly.

“So, let me get this straight. Nobody here is the slightest bit crackers that we’re going to war against magical monsters and a crazy witch, who by the way may even be crazier than fruit loops here,” he said, glancing at Harley. “No offense.”

She shrugged.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Deadshot responded.

“Yes. That is acceptable,” Diablo echoed.

Croc just nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Hey, I don’t agree,” Harley said, looking around the group. “You are wrong.”

Boomer pointed to her, smiling. “At last. Someone with some sense.”

“Yeah, and I totally disagree with what Stickman said. Witch Nutso’s crazier than me? I beg to differ. Nobody’s crazier than me. Mister J told me so himself.”

Deadshot shot Boomer a smile. “She’s got you there. Stickman.”

“Can’t argue with the lady,” Flag added.

“Certifiable.” Harley crossed her arms over her chest and slammed her foot down. “Toldja.”

Deadshot glanced at the others then looked up to a floating ring of debris, still another block away. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” He headed across the street to The Golden Tree, a bar that probably was shuttered when the war began. He turned to Flag and waved.

“Go ahead and kill me, or trust that I’ll be back when I’m good and sloshed. Your decision. I already made mine.”

Flag ran after him. “Gonna kill me?” Lawton asked. “If so, can you do me a big favor and wait until after my first drink? I think I earned that much.”

“Deadshot, I need your help.”

Lawton paused. “No. You need a miracle.” He broke the lock, headed into the bar, and checked out the bottles behind the counter. “Not bad,” he said as Boomer followed him inside. “I expected all this would have been stolen or destroyed, depending on who got here first.”

Diablo and Croc entered behind them and sat down at the bar. A moment later Harley entered. She paused at the door, sashayed back and forth, turned and saw Flag still outside. She flipped him off, gave a curtsy then headed in to join Deadshot behind the bar.

“Sit down, big guy,” she said, reaching for a bottle of bourbon. “Used to tend bar during grad school.” She poured him the drink and eased it over to him.

“Keep a tab going,” he said. “I’m going to need more than one.”

“You got it, pal. So let’s see if I can figure out everyone’s drink o’ choice.” She sidled up to Boomer and fluttered her eyes at him.

“You know what I like, sugar.”

“That you don’t get, mate. I belong to my Puddin’ and nobody else,” Harley laughed. “So let’s see. You’re an Aussie. Well, I don’t see a Darwin Stubby or a VB anywhere on these shelves, but you probably like a good Black and Tan. Am I close?”

“Not even, sweet cheeks. I’m a Gurgle’s Ale mate. So, were you any good pouring drinks?”

“Never had to take out a student loan.”

Next Harley walked over to Croc and studied him. “You’re a hard one to read, KC.” She sniffed him and made a face. “Hard to tell your beverage of choice when all I smell is five-day-old sewer.”

Deadshot took a sip and joined the fun.

“I’m betting he’s a Bloody Mary man. Emphasis on the blood, and a whole side of Mary.”

Croc shook his head. “Nothing for me. Drink dulls the mind.”

“Precisely, my giant alligator pal,” Deadshot said, gesturing for Harley to fill his glass up again. “You really want a sharp mind going after those things we saw? The duller the better for me.”

Croc stared at him, then shrugged. “Okay. Beer.”

Boomer clapped his hands and gave a whoop. “There he is. A man after my own heart. Don’t take that literally. Sweet-lips, pour the big guy a Gurgle’s. No. Make that five.”

Harley turned to Diablo. He interrupted her before she got a chance to guess.

“Water.”

“Says the man who can set the world on fire. Good idea, honey.”