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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:17:53 GMT -5
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:18:54 GMT -5
The Suicide Squad
Issue 14: "New Blood" Part One
Written by Jay McIntyre
Cover by Roy Flinchum
Edited by John & Sandra Elbe |
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:19:31 GMT -5
"Fanaticism in pursuit of knowledge...was still fanaticism." --The End of the Matter, by Alan Dean Foster
What we call 'Progress' is the exchange of one nuisance for another nuisance.
--Havelock Ellis (1859 - 1939)
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:20:31 GMT -5
Sarge Steel was not having a good day.
He was walking towards Belle Reve Prison in a miserable drizzle that was threatening to turn into something more serious. With him were two people. The first was a tall, blonde, broad shouldered man in a brown and tan costume. The man was shouting at him, excessively. The fact that he was no blaring fool, and instead an eloquent, educated man, made it all the worse.
The second person was a young petite girl in a truly hideous brown costume. That it was the costume of a villain was certain, but it almost as though the girl was deliberately trying to make herself look bad. She was the object of the shouting.
"I did not bring her here so that you could throw her in with a bunch of villains!" The man shouted. He was Geo-Force, Prince of Markovia, and a national hero of that small country.
"Since that's the sort of company she's been keeping, she should feel right at home," Steel responded. "Be grateful she's being given a chance at all."
"Don't talk about me as though I'm not here," she said. She was Terra. Half-sister to Geo-Force, but much less noble. The black sheep of the family; a bastard in the literal, old-fashioned sense of the word.
"Fine," Steel said, whirling to face her. "I'll say it to your face. I don't think you deserve this. I think you should be locked up like any other thug. Unfortunately, we can use you. Do what we tell you and you'll be granted the pardon neither the US Government nor Interpol thinks you deserve. Give me one reason why I should trust you?"
"Oooh, scary," she rolled her eyes. "The fact that I haven't crushed you in a fist of rock for pissing me off shoulda been your first clue, buzzcut-for-brains."
"Don't threaten me." He almost reached for his sidearm.
"I didn't threaten you, you jerk! I pointed out the facts!" She was angry, yes. Steel could tell that. But she was also under control. On some level, he judged, she genuinely did want out of the criminal life. Probably for all the wrong reasons. But he'd take the right thing done for the wrong reasons over the wrong thing done for the right ones.
Question was, were they doing the right thing in giving her this chance? Steel mentally shrugged. He'd taken worse risks in his career. They all had.
He turned away without another word, letting her win the argument, and let them on to Belle Reve.
'There is no other way?" Geo-Force asked in a more reasonable tone.
"No quicker way. All other options would involve prison time and community service; could have been years. This way, she does one mission for the Squad, and earns her pardon. After that she's free to go."
"I would hope to have her join a true hero group to watch over her," Geo-Force said. Terra made an audibly disgusted noise behind them, which they both ignored.
"That will be your concern, after she gets her pardon. Until then, she's ours."
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:21:34 GMT -5
Elsewhere…
Wilkerson and Malthus. "Mad" scientists of the first order. Formerly of the Council, and the HIVE before that.
Wilkerson, blonde and balding, paced nervously in their new underground lab. He took off his steel-rimmed glasses and wiped sweat from his face. For the moment he had left his latest genetics experiments behind. Besides, they would be of no use on their current project. Rather, it was his behaviorist skills that were required.
Malthus sat with his back turned to his partner, bent over the remote controls of his cybernetic creations. Bringing their prize home.
Malthus had been a government employee; specifically tied to the Pentagon and their development of robotic tanks and drones for the battlefield. He shared his last name with a famous economist of history; as he grew tired of explaining, there was no relation. Wilkerson had held various jobs in the private sector; animal experimentation labs, pharmaceutical companies, and so forth.
They were very different personalities; Wilkerson was nervous bordering on the manic, and Malthus was laid-back and bitterly sarcastic. But what they shared, what drew them together, was their scientific fanaticism.
Both of them were ardent technocrats, believing in science as the be-all and end-all. They were as devoted to science as some extremists are to their given religion; and they were hardly the only ones. Each had found dissatisfaction in their jobs; Wilkerson found his cohorts in the private sector were only interested in making money; and Malthus found the military wanted the power his robotic weapons could provide only as a means of control and battlefield superiority. Each of them wanted more than their respective fields could provide; while neither wanted to rule the world, both wanted to change it with technology, to usher in their twisted views of a golden age of humanity.
Such beliefs had led them to the organization known as the HIVE; and each had spent some time there. But while that organization did believe in a technocratic future, each of them found the organization too mired in petty squabbles with governments and metahumans. Technological superiority was their long-term goal, yes. Trouble was, long term might take another century and a half; and that was always assuming one of their enemies didn't shut the organization down entirely, or at least cripple it.
While wearing the HIVE hoods they had whispered these sentiments to one another, and quietly defected to the Council, with it's bold plans and cloning procedures that Wilkerson had been happy to be part of. But the Council had been shut down, by the Suicide Squad. Rather explosively.
So they had gone freelance. They weren't interested in world domination, but they were interested in changing the world. And they believed that, through such actions as they were now planning, they could, at least encourage the first world countries to more fully embrace technocracy as a way of life. Now they were using some of Malthus' old Pentagon contacts to achieve that end.
It was not enough, to their minds, to have people on cell phones and the internet; these were passing gestures, measures of convenience. They wanted people to embrace science in all ways on all fronts; cybernetic implants for every illness, genetic manipulation of children before birth; weeding out of the unfit by those same means, conquest of space and so forth.
"Are you almost finished?" Wilkerson asked agitatedly.
"Patience, be calm," Malthus replied without looking around. "This is a delicate operation. My Pentagon contacts did their part; now my drones are bringing the subject in its cage. I have to monitor them; we don't want them to drop it or allow an early release."
"Yes, control of conditions must be absolute," Wilkerson agreed.
"Then stop distracting me."
Wilkerson fell silent and resumed pacing the main laboratory floor. Securing a new base had been easy enough; there were plenty of options to choose from. Getting one that was not only secure, but also hard to detect and that had all the necessary facilities for their work was more difficult. Particularly given the test subject they had chosen.
But it was a well chosen place. Both of them preferred underground facilities when possible, and this place was indeed a bunker deep beneath the surface. Hard to access, harder still if you didn't know where the entrances were. Safe from spy satellites, notably. Defense through fortification was expensive and attracted attention. Defense through secrecy was much more effective.
"How much longer," Wilkerson asked, agitated.
"Perhaps forty minutes. If that is, you stop distracting me," Malthus snapped. "If not, my drones may drop the containment unit. Then things could become very interesting indeed."
"All right, all right, I'm sorry." Wilkerson turned away.
"Your turn will come soon enough," Malthus went on, his tone returning to its normal bland neutrality. "Once the subject is here we will need all of your injections and behavioral tricks, in order control the subject.
"Not just control it," Wilkerson replied. "Make it obedient to our every command."
"Yes," Malthus agreed.
After that, Wilkerson was finally able to hold his tongue.
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:27:44 GMT -5
Amanda Waller was back in command of the Suicide Squad.
But all was not well.
The roster was in shambles. Val Vostok was now her boss, as part of that damnable Checkmate organization. And Bronze Tiger was working for Vostok, even though he had betrayed them both! She knew what Checkmate was planning for him. She also knew it was bound to bite them on the ass before it was over. But for now all she could do was sit back and wait for the ‘new and improved’ Checkmate to gather enough rope to hang themselves. After a brief time away she didn’t have the strength or power to do much else. Maybe they had all forgotten that she could play their games better then any of them. She just needed time before making her move.
Another fact that Amanda Waller knew all to well was that politics made for strange bedfellows. But things were getting worse and worse all the time.
Apparently Sarge Steel was bringing her a new recruit today. A special case, or so she had been told. Not enough information. That had always been the problem before, and it had not changed since she came back.
Sometimes it was enough to drive her up the wall.
Then Steel arrived in her office, trailing two people in costume. One of which she sort of knew.
"Somehow, I don't think the Global Guardians are loaning us members," she said dryly.
"No indeed," Geo-Force agreed though it was hard to hide the fact that he was shocked that Waller knew of his involvement with the Global Guardians since that information was classified. If he knew her better he would be less surprised. "This is my sister, Terra."
"Half-sister," Sarge Steel interjected.
"Yeah, don't I know it," Terra sneered.
Waller stood slowly. "Steel, have you lost your mind? The Squad charter doesn't cover minors! She's just a kid!"
"It covers whatever we want it to cover; you should be used to that by now," Steel countered. "But for the record, I'm not happy with this either."
"Nor I," Geo-Force agreed. "All other options are worse, apparently."
Waller stared. "How am I supposed to use her, anyway? Support, will have to be. No other way."
"Maybe you should read this first," Steel said, handing over a manila envelope thick with papers.
"What's this?" Waller asked, accepting it.
"Her Interpol file."
Waller raised a brow, sat down and began to read. About halfway down the first page, her second eyebrow joined the first.
She looked up, and the look she gave Terra was much different; it was the sort she would give to any Squad operative. "You've been very busy, given you're so young."
"Yeah," Terra said matter-of-factly. Her look was challenging, defiant, and unrepentant. Waller would have to be wary of this one; she could destroy the entire prison far more effectively than Calculator had, and with far less effort.
"I think....I think you'll fit in just fine. Sarge, will you see to it? I want to talk to her brother for a moment."
Steel nodded. He led Terra away.
"You sure she's your sister?" Waller asked incredulously.
"Half-sister."
"Yes yes, I heard. But she must be a bad seed."
Geo-Force stiffened. "I have better hopes for her than that."
"Uh-huh. I've seen worse, and granted she's not killed anyone yet, but that one poor sap will spend the rest of his life sucking food through a straw, and--"
"I'm aware of the difficulties," Geo-Force interrupted, but the fire had gone out of him. He seemed tired. "All I ask is that she be given a chance. Be assured I would move her to an actual superhero organization if I could. No offense."
"None taken," Waller nodded. "And it might be safer for everyone if some heroes were containing her. But for the moment, she's stuck with us. My hands are tied."
"I know, mine are as well." Geo-Force turned to leave. "Take care of her," he said.
"That's up to her," Waller said simply.
Geo-Force sighed and left the office.
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:31:16 GMT -5
June Moone wandered the 'civilian' hallways of Belle Reve like a lost spirit.
Which wasn't that far from the truth; after all she had a lost spirit inside of her.
You wanted to know why I am helping you so readily? Enchantress asked inside her head.
We came to an understanding and allied against your old master, June thought back.
Well yes, but in so doing you showed me something.
What? June asked.
That you were worthy.
Worthy? June asked blankly.
Of being more than a host or pawn. Or my consideration and respect. I think you have a future ahead of you, June. A meaningful, powerful future.
I don't understand, June thought. Then she gasped and shuddered as a wave of power passed through her. She fell to her knees.
"What have you done to me?!?" she asked aloud.
I've done nothing to you, sweet June. I've done something for you. I've given you a boon.
"What boon?" June asked, getting back up, trembling.
A small portion of my power. Just enough for one spell, to do with as you please.
"What do you mean, as I please?"
To be used for whatever purpose you wish.
June finally managed to resume speaking only in thoughts to the witch inside her. I don't want to use your power for anything!
No? Enchantress gave the impression of a shrug. If you don't use it within a month, the power shall fade from you and return to me. But if you find a purpose you deem worthy for my magic...feel free. A roguish chuckle entered the Enchantress' mental voice. I am quite sure you will find one.
June ran in search of Resurrection Man as the Enchantress laughed softly in her mind.
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:31:39 GMT -5
Knockout was a warrior from Apocalypse, born and bred, with no way home.
Which in many ways was fine with her; she had no desire to return to that nightmare.
But by the same token Earth was not home to her either. No matter what she did or where she went, she would always walk on the twilight edge of whatever world or society she was present for. Forever an exile. Forever alone. One of those who existed on the shadowy fringes of life, as a harbinger of death.
She was not weepy or introspective by nature. She did not feel sadness exactly, nor remorse. But she did feel, in a deep dark place inside her she would never admit to any other, alone.
Terribly alone.
What made it worse was that she knew that while she might be done with Apocalypse, most assuredly Apocalypse was not done with her.
She knew that at least one operative had been left behind from the invasion. He had escaped Alcatraz recently.
And where there was one, she knew there would be more.
She would fight. She was bred for war.
It was what she knew.
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:32:08 GMT -5
Killer Frost stalked through the hallways, a smug smile on her face.
It had been quiet for a few days, and it was making her edgy. But word traveled fast in Belle Reve, both amongst prisoners and "guests" like herself. She had heard about the new meat—a feisty little girl. Could it be who she had heard of before?
She entered the briefing room, and sure enough, it was her. Saying goodbye to some boring boy scout super or other, who turned and walked away.
"So it's true," Frost. "It is you."
"Uh?" Terra turned to face her, ridiculous (and probably fake) ponytail flying.
"Heya, kid. I'm Killer Frost. I heard of you, and maybe you heard of me."
"Um...yeah, I have," Terra said uncertainly.
"Your work impresses me kiddo. Especially in Belarus. Good stuff. Very much a girl after my own heart."
Terra wrinkled her nose. "You sure you have a heart, Frosty?"
Frost laughed. "To be perfectly honest, no, I'm not sure. Like the song says, what's love got to do with it?"
Terra laughed a little, though the noise was jittery and nervous. "So whadda you want from me, anyhow?"
"Let's talk..."
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:32:50 GMT -5
Vixen and Manhunter sat together in his room. Her head on his shoulder.
Their relationship had continued, despite all odds, flying in the face of logic. He wasn't the sort of person she had thought she would see herself with. Even with all they had been through together, their relationship was "bad"; it was "wrong" for them both.
If she had stayed with Bronze Tiger, would he not have betrayed the team? Who knew? She didn't really regret it much.
She had always done what she wanted, not what others had expected of her. That was part of the reason their relationship had continued. But the other part of it was...she knew they were wrong for each other. So did he. That was why it continued. Because it was breaking the rules. Because they both got a thrill out of it.
Because it was fun.
She hadn't stopped to think about it until now. Realizing that didn't change her perspective any on the relationship, but it did make her think about herself. How she had changed.
"Have you had any contact with Paul?" She asked Mark, to change the track of her thoughts more than anything else. His bond with the other surviving Manhunter was strange and complicated.
"He said he would call me if he needed me, and that I should call him if the reverse was true," Mark said. "I'm hoping I don't have to call him, and I don't want him to call me."
"Why not?"
"Because that would mean one or both of us was up to our necks in it," he said morosely.
"Par for the course," she pointed out.
He grunted.
They were interrupted by Waller's voice coming over the intercom. "All Squad operatives to the briefing room. Now."
"Isn't it just a pleasure to have her back," Mark sighed.
"Vostok was no better," Vixen pointed out.
"Oh I don't know, I never worked with her personally but she seemed a bit more personable."
"Perhaps," she allowed. "Waller sounds grumpier than usual today. Wonder what's up."
"Probably something serious. I mean, more serious than usual," Manhunter said as he slipped into his costume.
"Oh, I just can't wait to find out what that might be," Vixen said.
They shared a bitter laugh as they left the room.
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:33:50 GMT -5
Elsewhere…
"They have brought the specimen," Malthus announced.
Wilkerson looked expectantly down the long corridor.
The four combat drones came clanking down the hallway. Little taller than human height, they were not particularly massive, but they were masterworks of metal and gears. Their laser sights were focused. Their destructive power was obvious.
And for all that, they were nothing compared to the burden they carried.
Neither scientist could see what was in the gunmetal gray rectangular prison tank, but both knew what it contained. A living breathing weapon that would destroy anything in its path.
And now it was theirs.
"When can you begin?" Malthus asked.
"Now," Wilkerson said, and drew a crystal on a chain from his pocket.
"Hypnosis?" Malthus snorted. "We're not charlatans or New-Age fools."
"No indeed," Wilkerson agreed, giving his counterpart an unpleasant smile. "We are much, much more. And this is no parlor trick or simple psychological tool. I would not dare attempt to use such on our test subject. It is much more powerful and irresistible, even for one of it's kind." His jitters stared to fade as he approached the viewing slot.
"Put it down," Malthus commanded his drones. Then he sat back, watching his partner. For all his nervous tics and impatience, Wilkerson was good at what he did. Malthus leaned back, studying his ally at work. Perhaps he should take notes.
"You mind if I have one of the drones record this?" he asked.
"Eh? No no by all means." Wilkerson said, and then turned to the little prison. He opened the viewing port.
Instantly, there was a rattling and a thrashing inside as the thing within tried it's best to break free and kill him. Wilkerson's earlier jitters were gone; he just blinked in mild surprise, and then lifted up the crystal on its chain and began to swing it back and forth. "Hush now, my friend. No need for all that racket. You will obey us. You...will....obey...us."
Gradually the noise in the cage subsided, and a pair of round, red eyes could be seen.
"Good. Excellent," Wilkerson intoned, in a voice about as flat and emotionless as Malthus' normally was, but much more persuasive. Even Malthus himself, sitting back out of range, felt a slight flicker of unease.
"You will help us change the world, my friend," Wilkerson said to the thing inside the cage. "But before you can, we will have to run you through several....experiments."
The smile on Wilkerson's face was terrible to behold.
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Post by Romans Empire on Aug 14, 2007 23:34:12 GMT -5
TO BE CONTINUED…
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Post by mockingbird on Aug 8, 2011 13:45:45 GMT -5
To let us know what you think of this issue, please visit the letters page here!
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