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Post by Romans Empire on Nov 20, 2008 1:32:49 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,800]Squad Roll Call-[/glow]
Amanda Waller: The tough as nails head of the Suicide Squad.
Sarge Steel: The Squad's unofficial go-between with Checkmate.
Manhunter (Mark Shaw): Formerly of the now-defunct Manhunters cult. Enhanced strength, speed, stamina, agility, and limited healing powers. Now the second in command, and leader in the field.
Vixen (Mari Jiwe McCabe): Tatu Totem gives her the ability to mimic the powers of any animal. Lover of Mark Shaw and third in command.
Knockout (Unknown): Former member of the Female Furies of Apokolips. Possesses super strength, regeneration and limited invulnerability.
Killer Frost (Crystal Frost): An ice elementalist, she is a living heat sink, needing warmth to survive, though she is learning to have some control over this, enabling her to survive longer. She can project cold and ice from her body, and can manipulate cold air to allow her to float. But her heart is the coldest thing about her. She has clashed with the hero Firestorm in the past, and may do so again in future.
Enchantress and Erinyes (June Moone): The Enchantress is an actual second personality, an immortal spirit of unknown vintage, surviving within June Moon's psyche. When June says the word "Enchantress," this second personality steps forward and takes control. Enchantress is a witch of unknown power, though it seems to wax and wane depending upon the situation. At all times she is a mistress of magic to be feared. She has given a portion of her power to June, who has become a powerful spellcaster in her own right, secretly calling herself Erinyes. The remaining Squad members do not know this....yet.
Resurrection Man (Mitch Shelly): Is resurrected each time he dies, gaining new powers having to do with the circumstances of his last death. Currently, he has a limited, scaled down version of the powers of Captain Atom; atomic blasts, flight, et cetera. He is currently being mentally influenced by Erinyes.
Electrocutioner (Paul Buchinsky): A murderous vigilante, he uses the electric power circuitry of his suit to fry his enemies. He carries on this legacy from his late brother. He is currently in a relationship with Killer Frost, but both of them know it cannot last forever.
Parademon (Unknown): Born and bred to be a soldier of the Apokolips war machine, he has strength, a limited form of flight due to the wings of his suit, and a battle axe forged from the dark metals of his home-world.
Doctor Samuel Malthus: This mad scientist was a former government researcher who later aligned with the Council. Defeated by the Squad, he was taken prisoner and later offered the standard Squad pardon deal. His specialties are Cybernetics and Robotics, but he is adaptable to other fields given time to research them. At all times he has a small platoon of remote control combat robots to do his bidding. They have razor sharp claws, sport both lasers and electricity blasts, and new features are being constantly upgraded into them by their creator. Malthus also wields a hand held Xenon laser pistol left behind by one of his erstwhile Council partners. That worthy, Aaron Wilkerson, is still at large.
Cavalier (Hudson "Harry" Drake): A gentleman villain of the "old school", Cavalier commits robberies for profit and battles heroes for fun. After an unremarkable childhood in Anchorage, Alaska, he took up a sword, and the appropriate training in fencing and other swordplay disciplines, set out upon his villainous career. Eventually he went to work for the Calculator, and was captured by the Squad. For him, the Squad represents an ideal solution; he can commit his acts of dastardly derring-do without fear of further legal repercussions.
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Post by Romans Empire on Nov 20, 2008 1:35:35 GMT -5
{*Editors Note*: This story occurs sometime after the events of Detective Comics # 37.}--10: Interrogation--“Hello, old friend,” Malthus said simply. Wilkerson was a wreck. His hair was standing on end, his glasses were askew and he didn't even seem to notice. They had found him, alone. They had killed all the infected in the lab, and found him alone in some sort ‘clean’ room or observation chamber. “Malthus, is that you?!?” “Of course it's me. Forgive me if I don't take off the biohazard suit just yet. We need to know everything.” “Yes, of course, I'll tell you, I'll tell you all of it. But you have to stop them! They'll have got to San Diego by now and the infection will spread!” “Stay with him,” Vixen said. “We'll take care of it. Enchantress, we need to get there, now!” “I can only take you one at a time,” the sorceress said, her eyes unfocused, looking at something the rest of them couldn't see. “Yes, that's fine,” Vixen snapped, “But MOVE!” As Enchantress vanished with Killer Frost, Vixen turned and grabbed both of them by the shoulders. “Stay here, both of you. Don't make me hunt for you when we come back. You won't like that.” “No argument,” Malthus said wearily. Wilkerson merely nodded. After they were gone, Wilkerson moved as though to bolt, but Malthus grabbed his shoulder and sat him down, hard. “It's no good. We'll have to do this one by the book. They'll turn you in, and sooner or later the Feds will take us back like the prodigals we are.” Wilkerson stared back. “You've been planning this, haven't you?” Malthus shook his head awkwardly inside his hazmat suit. “Not exactly. Certainly I had no idea you'd turn up again. You should've laid low; we had more than enough safehouses scattered around from our Council and HIVE days for that. Anyway, my ‘plan’ was to serve my time on the Squad and get out. I'd earned my pardon already, of course, but they don't pay anything but room and board. I had to find a time and place—or at least a reason—to bow out. You are that reason, and now is the time. But enough about me. It's time for you to talk, Aaron. Tell me everything about this little zombie virus of yours.” “They're not zombies,” Wilkerson said peevishly. “They're people infected with the desire to spread--” “This is why I prefer machines,” Malthus said wearily. “Can the pedantics, Aaron. We're both scientists here. Just the cold hard facts.” “You always were ice cold,” Wilkerson grunted. “All right. The idea was to control human behavior, and thus the masses, at a much more fundamental level than was possible through traditional conditioning and media. I was all in favor of that. But I knew something was wrong as soon as they chose contagion as a delivery system. Nevertheless, cloning and genetics being my specialty, I persevered....” ***************** --11: Sterilization--The last of the ‘Quarantine’ portion of the Squad materialized on a hill above San Diego as Enchantress brought Vixen in. “Bastard was right,” Vixen spat. “They're already in the city streets infecting others. Enchantress, can you cut them off?” Enchantress didn't waste any time answering, she just chanted and gestured, and a line of yellowish-green energy cut through a portion of the city. Finally, she spoke. “I cut off a greater area than was strictly necessary. I didn't want any of them to get through.” Inside her head, Erinyes said, I'm surprised you care.Enchantress laughed back. Not in the way you mean, my young sister. But you can't very well rule the world if everyone in it is a diseased maniac and then dies, now can you?[/]
True enough, Erinyes had to admit.
None of the others heard any of this psychic exchange, of course. Knockout turned to Vixen. “You realize there's no saving the infected. They have to be killed.”
Frost grinned wide.
“Yes, of course I know that,” sighed Vixen. “We killed enough of them in the base, didn't we? Just make sure you don't kill anyone else.”
Knockout huffed and gestured to the Parademon. He launched himself at the city, and she leapt, hanging on to one boot.
Frost laughed and began to slide down towards the city.
Vixen shook her head. “That girl is a ticking time bomb.”
*****************
--12: Eradication--
The infected cavorted madly and brutally in the city streets, killing here, infecting there. But all of them were well inside the shield.
Parademon and Knockout were wearing hazmat suits like everyone else, but given their alien biochemistry it probably wasn't necessary. Waller had insisted anyway; who knows what horrible mutation of the disease could have occurred in their alien bloodstreams?
In any case, both had taken the same precautions as everyone else, even though Knockout had not deemed it necessary She had agreed because she remembered her own Dark Lord's experiments in diseases. With the partial and problematical exception of the Anti-Life Equation, Darkseid had given up on the notion of viral weapons. Not for any ethical reasons, of course, but rather a logistical one. They were simply too hard to control. (Genetic engineering was entirely another matter; the Parademon's very existence was due to it.)
The Parademon, for his part, had begun to soften somewhat under his Mistresses' command. Even so he just wanted to kill, and didn't give much thought to what he was wearing while he did it. Insofar as he thought about it at all, clothing was to him a functional necessity, nothing more.
All of that having been said, Knockout and the Parademon blurred through Enchantress's defensive screen, as she had planned to let them in to begin with. But once in, none could get out, until they were sure all the infected were dead.
Frost blurred in close behind.
*****************
--13: Revelation--
Mark Shaw and Mitch Shelly moved slowly and gingerly into the office. The Financier was there all right, quite dead.
Behind them the secretary gasped, then cursed, then turned aside and threw up. Neither of them could blame her.
“Did one of the infected get him?” Mitch asked in something like horror.
“Doesn't look like it. They haven't reached here, and if they had half the building would be infested with them by now.” Mark moved closer. “He was torn apart. A very gruesome assassination, learly designed to send a message.”
“Surely not Luthor,” Mitch frowned.
“The man himself? Not likely. Still locked up.”
“We hope,” the secretary murmured, wiping her mouth.
“More likely, other men left over from his tenure, like our friend here. Either they knew his little experiment was tanking or were angry at him for diverting funds for it. But they're gone now. I miss....our associate Mister Blake. He was good at Forensics.”
“Call in the Feds, surely?” The secretary suggested.
“Yes,” Mark agreed, “But the right branch of the Feds. I know which ones; they'll be discreet. Surely the new administration of your company will appreciate that?” Mark was unhappy about putting this in the hands of Checkmate, and dared not mention them by name; but really he saw no other choice. Best he could do would be to ask Waller to keep him informed; which she might do simply because she had no love for their ‘bosses’ either.
“Oh definitely,” she agreed. Behind her, the security she had called were white faced as well as white knuckled.
“This thread can't be left dangling,” Mitch said, frowning.
“It won't be,” Mark assured him. “We just might not be able to finish it ourselves. But we'll try; let's go pick up our....sharp-edged and lightning-witted associates....and see if there's anybody in the general area.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mitch agreed.
*****************
--14: Purge--
Fortunately for all concerned, the virus had not yet mutated into a form that could infect any being other than humans. (As Wilkerson was explaining to Malthus back in the dead base, they had made it species specific as best they could.) Given enough time, it could of course change into to something that could turn rats or mice or dogs.
It had not yet had enough time to do any such thing, and the Squad's job was to make sure that it didn't.
Kill them all.
Frost laughed as she froze the infected, then deliberately smashed them to pieces.
A woman was running from the infected, but was trapped in an alley, infected coming in from both sides. Parademon dropped Knockout into one group, then flew past the terrified woman and slammed into the other. His darkmetal axe was in his hazmat-gloved hand, and he was chopping busily.
Knockout, for her part, smashed brains in, or broke their necks, or their backs. One she simply smashed into the alley wall, another she threw into the sky. Another she hit with an uppercut; his head came off.
There was some gore and splatter, but none touched the horrified woman. Knockout stared at her for a long moment, waiting for some sign of infection; then she nodded in satisfaction and raced off after the Parademon.
The woman slumped down in the alley, crying.
The Parademon was too late to save an old man from the infected horde that closed on him. But at least he did not join their ranks; he was dead by the time Parademon got busy with his axe. Almost as an afterthought, he kicked one of the infected hard, and it went flying through a plate glass window with a loud smash.
*****************
--15: Tracking--
Cavalier was almost overjoyed when Manhunter and Resurrection Man came back, suited up, and gave him something to do.
He had been bored to tears waiting, and Electructioner wasn't exactly good company. He was still sore, both phyiscally and psychologically, from the snafu in Gotham. Now he got a chance to do what he did best; what he lived for.
Granted, none of them were trackers like Catman had been, but they weren't looking for footprints. They were looking for people on the run.
The body in the office had been fresh, they told him; so their quarry was almost certainly still in town.
They might either be rich renegades like their victim had been; or perhaps they were merely paid thugs working for someone else. Who could say?
If they were themselves rich men, they would probably already be gone on a private jet or some such. They would check the airports. But on the chance that they weren't, they would hit the streets. Do it the hard way. Work the scum. Ask questions. Threaten, brutalize.
Cavalier had nothing against street criminals; though he thought himself a ‘gentleman villain’ and therefore above such trash, he also thought them better than any hero of any stripe. At least they had their financial and moral priorities right. He was always in favor of evil at a philosophical level, unless it was the alien sort that sought to enslave humanity, or destroy all life in the universe, or something like that.
Cavalier loved being a villain and taking it to the heroes. That was his one problem with his current set up, too often he was fighting other villains. Which was fun, but not quite so satisfying as fighting heroes. Which was why his failure in Gotham stung him so personally. If he had stayed, and not complained about his injury, he might have been able to take Batman down, instead of that cowl-eared punk making the rest of the Squad look like fools.
But at least this way he got to do his thing without fear of legal repercussion. That, in the end, was why he stayed.
The local street ‘culture’ didn't know if they were heroes or villains, which suited them just fine for intimidation purposes. Even Manhunter was not so snippy as to be bothered by the advantages such a situation presented.
There had been some unusual activity, It turned out. Three rather unsavory characters had been seen leaving the business district in a hurry. And besides their hurry, the other thing that had stood out....was how terrible they smelled.
“They got in through the sewers from below,” Manhunter reasoned. “That's part of why the office smelled so bad, aside from the fact that they tore him apart.”
“Might they have super strength?” Resurrection Man asked as they got in their rented care and drove at speed.
“No, I've seen people killed by brute force rending before.” Manhunter shuddered a little at the memory. “These guys are sadists, to be sure. But purely ordinary ones.” Electrocutioner nodded unhappy agreement with that analysis.
There was silence for a moment, and even Cavalier, steeped in villain culture as much as anyone was, had to pause for a moment to reflect on the fact that any sadist could be considered ordinary. It had....unpleasant implications.
But he shook it off, as the others did. Or at least enough to focus on the task at hand.
At first, they had thought their quarry had taken a car or a truck, bought, stolen, or rented like their own. But then they had realized a more obvious and simple means of transportation, the one favored by serial killers and others who wished to remain anonymous and/or couldn't afford any better....
The nationwide bus system.
That realization alone wouldn't have been enough, of course; those buses went everywhere. But it was not great leap of logic to presume that before they had killed the financier, they had known what he was working on. And by now the outbreak had hit the news. So they would surely be headed away form San Diego, rather than towards it. That cut down on the number of routes they had taken. And since they were hired muscle, rather than brains, Manhunter didn't think that would double back towards the danger. Cavalier agreed. (He didn't much care what Resurrection Man or Electrocutioner thought.)
So they divvied up, with Resurrection Man and Cavalier ditching their costumes again, long enough to rent their own cars and give chase on what Manhunter calculated were the top four most likely routes for the thugs to have taken.
As it happened, Cavalier won that particular lottery.
He couldn't have been more pleased.
His first clue he had struck gold was when the bus, which he had been shadowing, abruptly took off. Then it began to wildly swerve. Almost fishtailing. He kept up with it easily, not caring when the bus began to sideswipe other vehicles, until he almost crashed into one of them.
Then he started to get angry.
*****************
--16: Decision--
“....and then the outbreak erupted,” Wilkerson finished. “You know the rest.” He paused, took a breath, then said, “Are you sure we can't just escape?”
“I could, theoretically. I've served my sentence already. But you they'd just hunt down.” Malthus shook his head. “And I think you can guess what would happen if I tried to help you escape. Anyway, the odds are not in our favor. But that's all right.”
Wilkerson frowned, and for the first time his eyes showed a flash of anger. “What does that mean? How on Earth can it be all right?”
“Don't you mean how in the multiverse?” Malthus smirked, then held up a hand to prevent another outburst. Using ‘people skills’, even with his old friend and ally, was not something he was very good at.. “We tried running away from the system, but we just found rival organizations. So this time we 'play ball' and make the system work for us, until we're ready.”
Wilkerson scowled. “I hate playing by bureaucrat rules.”
Malthus nodded. “So do I. But bureaucrats are plodding, unimaginative....and easily manipulated”
“What are you planning?”
“No new plan, my friend. Just a modified application of the same one we've always had.”
*****************
--17: Sanitization--
A couple of the infected had wandered into the subways, and one even into the sewer system. Not out of any sense of panic or escape from death; they were not that smart. Simple chance.
But Enchantress anticipated this even before Vixen spoke to her about it; her magical field penetrated well down into sublevels not used for years. The infected would not escape her net.
It took no real effort, but it did take concentration. That was one of the things she had taken pains to teach Erinyes; with most simple spells, no real effort of will was required. It was simply concentration. You couldn't casually start thinking about something else, not even for a second.
That was the lesson that was hardest to learn for Eryines. She could do what she needed to do to get what she wanted—an admirable first step, in Enchantress' view. But her long term commitment was....somewhat lacking.
But Enchantress remained focused on task at hand while Killer Frost, Parademon, and Knockout hunted down and killed the infected, one by one.
Their mindless, base instinctual nature did not lead to tactical thinking, nor to hiding. If they were not seen it was only because they were looking for food, in the form of their victims. Enchantress wondered idly what in the name of Neron the gengineers who had created these mutant morons were trying to accomplish. Ultimately, the infected did not, and could not, hide. They always had to go for the meat. So even those few that wandered downwards, sooner or later had to come back up for more victims, bringing an unlucky new infected or two with them.
All of which is to say, that while there was something of a waiting game involved, the outcome was certain. Gradually, the few infected that had gone underground soon came back up and were defeated. Even so, Enchantress kept up the shield for another two solid hours afterwards, and Knockout, Parademon and Frost actually went into the tunnels looking for any stragglers. Finding none, Enchantress let the shield drop and they waited to see if their was a second outbreak.
Enchantress could not sense any infected , but by itself that didn't mean anything. She wasn't that good at sensing individuals unless she knew them personally. And in the mass of humanity that was San Diego, the infected didn't really stand out.
So they waited for a time, but there were no new cases.
“Okay,” Vixen finally said. “Let's go pick up Malthus and his egghead friend, then find out what Manhunter's figured out.”
“What if there's another outbreak?” Enchantress asked.
Vixen smirked. “I've got the news radio in my earpiece. Apparently there's some heroes helping the Navy fight a giant monster in San Francisco bay.* If there's another outbreak, they can clean it up. Besides, I'd rather be gone when they get here, if it's all the same to you.”
Remembering the Squad's former clashes with both the Titans and the Justice League, Enchantress was only too happy to agree.
{*Editors Note*: Teen Titans West #1-2.}
*****************
--18: Battle--
While the bus was bigger and more powerful than Cavalier's pitiful rent-a-car, it was also slower, and the crazy fools behind the wheel weren't exactly compos mentis by this time.
Clearly, the hit had gone bad. How many people on the bus had they killed? During the chase, Cavalier had been able to see them, screaming faces pressed against the windows. He doubted all of them had made it this far alive. Not that Cavalier had any sympathy for the cattle, of course; it was a question of losing your focus, and your polish. There was nothing grand and elegant about killing the 9 to 5 crowd, unless it was part of some brilliant master plan. This, on the other hand was sheer panic and stupidity. Even the ordinary crooks on the street were smarter than this, if lacking in pride or ambition.
No, these were hit men, either mafia or ‘private contractors’, who had exceeded their remit and lost their cool. Perhaps even gone completely insane. Cavalier had known that much before Manhunter had made his ‘deductions’. Given that they had snapped in the way they had, Cavalier suspected them to be mercenaries rather than true organized crime, a thought supported by the nature of their original target. But he would make no assumptions.
And if possible, he would try to take at least one of them alive; Manhunter would certainly want to question them and learn who their paymasters were.
He forced the bus off the highway. Dimly, he heard sirens in the distance. “I've got them,” he snapped into a communicator, “But the pigs are closing. I'm on route 215, not far from where it breaks from route 15. Please hurry, I don't want to get arrested.” He closed the communicator without waiting for a reply.
The bus had almost gone over on it's side, then righted itself. He stabbed his sword through the left front tire, puncturing it and making it that much more difficult to escape.
Shots cracked over his head. He ducked, not really surprised. One of the bullets smashed the passenger side window of his rent-a-car.
They came around the side of the bus. There were three of them, and two still had their weapons out and shooting. The third had no gun; Cavalier assumed him to be the actual ‘ripper’. He had a savage grin and big hands held out, fingers splayed, like a wrestler who took his role too seriously. Clearly this one had been unstable long before todays events.
He ducked and rolled two more shots, then stabbed one of the gunners in the foot. He went down, shouting in pain, and Cavalier kicked his gun away as another bullet zipped past his head.
The man with the big hands and vicious stare came next, getting in the way of the remaining gunner, which pleased Cavalier but did not surprise him. Shooting someone at point blank range was easy; marksmanship was another matter. Of course there were snipers in the business too. But these guys were clearly not.
This one was clearly the most dangerous and the most likely to cause trouble in an interrogation—not to mention the most likely to actually kill him. So Cavalier ran him through, straight through the heart, without a second thought. Cavalier's blade looked like a typical fencing rapier, but was far less likely to flex and had a far sharper point.
The cruel man's grinning expression quickly shifted into one of angry, stupid surprise; even as he went down, he tried to wrap his hands around Cavalier's throat. Cavalier jerked his head back, and the dying fingers tried to push into the flesh of his throat instead. The pain was excruciating, and Cavalier began to panic, before the man's fingers relaxed and he slumped to the ground, dead.
Cavalier went down with him, pretending to be finished also, so that the gunner would close in before shooting. With a grimacing effort, he tried to pull his blade out of the dead man's chest, but it caught on his sternum and wouldn't come free! Fighting back another wave of panic, he lay still until the shooter loomed over him, then he launched himself up from the ground and slammed his head into the shooter's chest.
The gunner sqwaked and went down, but he kept hold of his gun. Cavalier grabbed the gun arm with both hands. The thug punched him with his free hand, but Cavalier paid him no heed; he kept slamming the man's gun against the ground. Twice, it went off, but the stubborn fool refused to let go.
The cops arrived and were shouting for them to stop fighting. Which was lovely, really, but if Cavalier let go the man would shoot him, and that would be that.
So they kept struggling until the cops pulled them apart. Cavalier immediately went limp in their arms, not resisting, and when they told him to get on the ground, he complied. The remaining shooter fought and cursed and struggled. Inwardly, Cavalier was amused; clearly he wasn't very professional. Didn't he know how this game worked?
“Hey freak,” one the cops snapped. “You a hero?”
“I work for the government,” he replied, which was more or less true. “Several of my associates will arrive shortly.”
“Well, just stay put until they do, and can vouch for you. Don't do nothin stupid.”
“Certainly,” he agreed, inwardly seething at the pigs all the while.
*****************
--19: Debriefing--
Malthus was kept behind in the briefing room after the standard mission wrap-up was completed.
"The one guy that Cavalier didn't kill wasn't cooperative," Waller said, "And it took time to get him away from the cops. He won't admit to working for Luthor. But he and his two friends were certainly answering to someone high up in the old administration, if not the man himself."
"I'm sure Checkmate will wring the truth out of him eventually," Malthus said without much enthusiasm.
“They tell me Wilkerson was taken into custody by Checkmate,” Waller said, staring holes in Malthus.
The scientist nodded blearily. “They apparently did not want to give him a Squad pardon deal. Can't say as I'm surprised.”
Waller continued to stare at him. “And....?”
She knew. Of course she did. Malthus wasn't surprised at that either. “The situation being what it is, I think I've earned the right to go, myself.”
“Oh, you 'earned' it a while ago. I just don't trust you.”
“Of course you don't,” he agreed. “I'll be taken back in by the government, and kept under surveillance.”
“Yes, I'm sure they'll welcome you with open arms,” She sneered. “You'll understand, I'm sure, if I wait until the CIA or whomever comes to get you.”
“Probably the Pentagon,” Malthus said. “Once I make the appropriate phone calls.”
“You did well,” she said. “I'll admit that.”
“Thank you.”
*****************
--20: Coda--
What Malthus knew that Waller did not know, was that he and Wilkerson had quietly arranged for a sample of the virus to be taken by Wilkerson as a bargaining chip....and as a hope for eventualities when they could start again.
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