AUG 2003 - #10

Suicide Squad: Acts of War part one by Toby Kernan

The President heard a brief knock on one of the secret doors and sighed happily. Finally, he thought, a distraction to give him a break from reading and signing his endless paperwork stream.

"Sir?" asked Trixie Collins poking her head through the door. President Scott smiled, seeing the face of Trixie, one of his most trusted aides within the administration. He had felt himself very lucky when he had been able to pull her away from her CEO job at Goldstar Global Communications, and add her to his team. She was an invaluable asset - intelligent, strong-willed, and very dedicated to bettering the future of this country. Alan had almost taken her as a running mate.

"Is she with you, Trixie?" asked President Scott, curious.

"She is Mr. President," said Trixie, smiling. She knew Alan would prefer to be called by his name, but she couldn't bring herself not to address him in his formal position. He was, after all, arguably, the most powerful man on the entire planet.

"How does she seem?" asked President Scott.

"Like a real nice kid," responded Trixie, "who seems to have the amazing ability to get herself in stuff way over her head. She seems to be just what you were looking for though, and I think she can help you."

Alan Scott nodded, he knew the type, he had seen them all his life. They were the kind that got themselves killed in the 'super business'. Maybe, Alan thought to himself, I can save this one.

"Send her in Trixie . . . "

Alan watched as the young girl walked into the room. Alan looked at her. She couldn't even be twenty years old. Alan could see that look in her, the one of wonder and amazement.

"Well, Ms. Cathy Webster," asked President Scott, "what can you tell me about Suicide Squad . . . "

Thomasina put the key into the lock on her door. It would be nice, she thought, to finally take a trip somewhere without it being related to business. For the past eight years she had been to nearly every major country in the world, as Advisor to Foreign Affairs for President Kelly. None of those had ever been pleasure trips though, and with a world full of turmoil and trouble, she just never had time to take a vacation. There were always revolutions and rebellions and outright wars, not to mention a world filled with super villains and cyber terrorists and monsters of all sorts.

Thomasina had loved her job very much, and would have been happy to continue at her post, but she knew it just wasn't to be. She knew it from the moment Alan Scott had begun to take charge in the polls. He wasn't the kind of man who would continue to run the Administration the way Kelly had. He had too much honesty and integrity. He had based much of his campaign on cleaning up the overspending and corruption of the government, and Thomasina had no compunction that she, with her affiliation with Taskforce M and Suicide Squad, would be one of the first to go.

She walked in her door, threw down her keys, and walked up the stairs towards her bedroom. She had to get everything prepared. She hadn't taken a real vacation in more years than she could remember. Now she was going to take a little of that money she had saved over the years, and splurge on herself, buy some drinks with umbrellas, and have some young dark stud rub her down with coconut oil on the beach.

Thomasina Jefferson threw open the bedroom door and saw him standing there, his costume of red with the yellow target in the center. Then, for a brief second, she heard the muffled shots and smelled the gunpowder.

Thomasina Jefferson fell dead at the feet of Deadshot.

Less than twelve hours later, there was nothing left of her home, or her body, but ashes and smoke.

"There you old dogs are!" announced Hank loudly, slapping one of the men, Nick Rodriquez, a.k.a. Pathfinder, upon the back. The other man sitting, Frank Bohannon, a.k.a. Commando, turned to put his eyes on his old friend.

"So you are really leaving us, Hank?" asked Frank, taking a friendly jab at Hank.

"You better believe it," announced Hank, proudly. "I am tired of hanging around you two ugly mugs, it is keeping the girls away. Not to mention, it will be nice to work with people who aren't thieves and murderers. With the Checkmate Program up and running once again, and on the level, it is the place I want to be. You know, you guys should come with me, I am sure there is a place for you in Checkmate, and from what I hear, Suicide Squad is in serious trouble . . . "

Nick Rodriquez nodded in agreement. "You certainly got that last part right, buddy. From what we are hearing, this new President has got a serious hatred for us. Word is he is going to demolish us come hell or high water."

"So, why don't you guys join me?" asked Hank.

"Well," said Frank, "Nicky here can come with you if he wants, but I think I will stink with this Titanic, even until the end. I have been with this bunch, through a few good times, and mostly bad, since Vietnam. I ain't about the leave now. All I've ever known is this den of thugs and scumbags. Sadly enough, they are family, dysfunctional as they are."

Hank nodded, understanding his friend, then turned to Nick.

Nick nodded as well, "Hey, this old bastard has saved my life more times than I can count. I go where the old Commando goes. After all, who else is going to watch his back in this den of bastards?"

Hank laughed, then shook each man's hand, and made his way to the door. He hoped everything worked out for them, but he had his doubts. Things were going very wrong in Suicide Squad, and it didn't take a genius to realize that Frank's analogy was correct. Suicide Squad was indeed a Titanic, a sinking ship, and it was going down fast.

Nearly seventy years working for the United States Government. Defending the American Dream. Protecting the American Ideals of truth, justice, and the American Way, anyway possible. Alec Swan had done a lot in his seventy years - helped end the reign of Hitler, prevented a nuclear war with Russia, quelled a lethal toxic gas attack from Diabloverde terrorists. Seventy years spent defending this country, anyway possible.

Alec smiled as he touched the remote control button, and Leaving On A Jet Plane by the Mamas and the Papas began to play on the stereo. Alec had always liked that song. He pulled the glass from the desk and took a deep drink of the Cognac. If he was going to die, Alec decided, he might as well go with a fine drink and his favorite music playing.

"You must be the sucka I'm lookin' fo'?" said a voice in the dark of the room.

"Yep," said Alec, swallowing the last of the Cognac from the glass, "that must be me."

Suddenly, two small flames lit in the center of room. Alec noticed how the flames sat, burning, in the center of two dark-skinned hands. The eerie light from the flames lit the appearance of the man. Alec could see that he was tall and black. Alec recognized his assassin. He was a large black man known as Holocaust, a vicious gang leader that is super-strong, near invulnerable, and can control fire. Last he heard, Holocaust was currently part of Suicide Squad.

"Word is, you killed my mama?" said Holocaust, the look of disgust on his face.

"I've killed a lot of people," said Alec Swan, pouring himself another drink. "Who was your mama?"

"Thomasina Jefferson," said Holocaust. "Now understand, me and mama ain't got along for years now, but it is the principle of the whole thing. She was my mama . . . "

Alec laughed. He had heard that Thomasina had been killed. That was a shame, because much like him, she had been a patriot, someone who had done everything for this country. Including a lot of bad things. But, on the bright side, Alec finally understood what was going on. Someone was eliminating those people who knew too much.

"I don't suppose," asked Alec, "it would help if I told you I didn't do it . . . "

Suddenly, Alec noticed the fire was no longer just in the palm of Holocaust's hands. It was on the curtains behind him. It was on the desk. It was everywhere.

"Make your prayers to whatever God you worship, punk," said Holocaust, turning his back and walking to the nearest door.

As the flames began to engulf Alec, he smiled. At least, he thought, his diaries were in safe hands.

Of course it could be much, much worse. Roberto had been one of the first people to do the happy dance when Jonathan Crane, a.k.a. the Scarecrow, had decided he was tired of the place and had escaped. Despite the fact that Roberto still couldn't figure out how Crane had escaped - his room had been locked and there was no sign of any force or damage, he didn't care. Just having Crane gone made the whole place better, and safer. That guy had been the evilest creature Roberto had ever met.

Roberto checked in with the main control room, as he was required to do every fifteen minutes, then peered into the locked room before him. It was empty. Actually, most of the rooms in this wing were empty tonight. Roberto looked at his palm pilot, noting that many of these rooms were in fact, currently occupied. That had to mean that most of them were currently on a mission. Roberto checked, and his assumption was correct. Everybody on this wing, in fact, except the man known as Janus, was currently on missions. Roberto smiled, that was fine with him, it was easier to keep watch on a bunch of empty rooms, than on a bunch of unpredictable thugs.

Roberto walked on, making his way to the viewing window into the door of the next room. As he peered inside, something didn't feel right. Roberto looked down at his palm pilot. This was the room of Killer Wasp, one of the fairly new recruits, and he was out on a mission. Roberto looked into the room, and swore he saw something move inside. He put his ear to the room, and heard a strange buzzing sound.

"Hey Joe," said Roberto, calling over his headset to main control room operator Joe Calhoun, "check the thermals for room 32b, see anybody?"

Joe's voice crackled back over the headset. "Nah, there ain't nobody in there that I can tell. Nobody moving on the cameras either. Problem?"

"Not sure," said Roberto, fumbling through his keys, "but I'm gonna check it out."

"You want me to send Tony and Carson down there before you go in?" asked Joe.

"Nah, probably nuthin," said Roberto. "Hell, since this fella is the Killer Wasp, it probably is just a yellowjacket or something. Haha."

Roberto walked into the room and turned the light on. He saw the flicker of the light in the corner of the room, and then the blinding flash of light, and that was the last thing Roberto Castillas ever saw.

Room 32b exploded in a fiery ball. Soon, many other bombs, in many other rooms followed. It wasn't much later that the place once known as Belle Reve was nothing more than smoke and ashes.

Valerie considered her options. She had tried to reach Henry Pym, but since The Avengers League had separated from the government recently, he had been hard to contact. She had tried to reach Forge, but he was not at his home in Arizona, and all attempts to reach him in Los Angeles had failed. Even her ally Sarge Steel has not been found. Valerie frowned, her worry furrowing her brow. She was running out of options for protection, for safety. She wasn't ready to die, yet. Her job wasn't worth that.

Valerie grabbed everything she had, and made a scramble for her office door. She was getting out, and going now. She decided it was time to go hide out. She had always knew some day like this might come, and she had made some preparations, just in case. She had a cabin in Wyoming, in a place called Bear Creek. Nobody within the system knew it existed. She would go there, hide out, wait until things cool off, then try to get ahold of Forge, or Pym, or Oliver Queen, or someone who could protect her.

Valerie looked into the hallway, checking both directions. Nobody seemed to be around, and so she sprinted down the hall to the elevator. Perspiration starting to cover her body, she quickly jumped inside, and pressed the button which would lead the elevator down to the parking garage.

As Valerie entered the garage, she couldn't help but cringe. She had seen all the scary movies, and now here she was, alone in a dimly lit parking garage, walking by herself, hoping to just make it out alive.

Valerie let out a silent sigh of relief as she reached the door of her care. She was about to push the button upon her keychain door lock, then thought better of it. She considered what was happening to everyone else. A lot of explosions. She had seen too many cars blow up to trust her own, at this volatile time. Instead, she pulled the gun from her purse and decided to walk her way out, and take a bus or taxi to the airport.

Valerie began to make her way up the several flights of stairs to the surface level. With each step, Valerie gained confidence. Soon, she saw with relief, the exit just ten steps above her.

Things happened suddenly. Valerie felt a wave of energy crackle behind. She began to turn, her weapon raised, when hands grabbed her, and pulled her into the energy, swallowing her, leaving the stairwell as if she had never been there at all.