five ────────────── cheers to that!

 For a long time, Elina had trouble navigating her own feelings. Maybe that happened to a lot of isolated criminals, or maybe someone with a trauma plagued past, or maybe it was just her—or at least it felt like it was. It'd been at its worst in Gotham—when Elina was solely bent on ruining the lives of the city's cockroaches. She'd had a few friends along the way—like Harley, and for a short time, she'd even considered the Red Hood a friend. Her friends were on the same route as her: causing chaos in the form of violence. Then, when Elina landed in Belle Reve, there was nothing to really distract her from what she'd really felt. There was always something to do before she was confined in concrete walls—feeling bad about yourself? Remember that old offender across the street? Take it out on him. They'd offered her a few coping mechanism at Belle Reve, but none of them really gave the satisfaction of seeing Gotham's scum bleed. Over the years of her incarceration, Elina had started to...grasp her own feelings. She knew when she was happy, when she wasn't, when it was okay to feel something and when it wasn't. And occasionally, she liked to talk about whag exactly was going on in that head of hers.

As Elina sat in the back of the dimly lit shaking bus, she'd come to the conclusion that her house of cards was tumbling once again—she realized this as she stared at Rick Flag for a prolonged amount of time, wondering what exactly she felt for that man. She would chalk it up to being Cleo's words sticking to her mind—basically implanting an idea in her head that stuck worse than the plague Sebastian's ancestors had carried in Europe of 1346. Well, not that bad. But, she couldn't easily rid the thought from her head at the moment. Elina's back was to the window, with her body facing towards Rick, who was directly across from her. Rick offered a warm smile, which brought her back to reality.

In a swift movement, Rick pushes himself off his seat and slides to her own with a quirked brow beneath his cowboy hat. "You look worried?" He asks, unsurely. Elina shurgs. "Just thinking." She says simply. Rick chuckles softly, nudging his elbow to her side. "What about? No clouded mind for this mission, you know the rules." Rick informed, playfully.

You. You are currently the withstanding issue. But, she keeps those words to herself. For a moment, she contemplates telling him. Throwing caution to the wind, she does. "Just a little unsure of how to feel. In Belle Reve I got everything kind of in order and then I was thrown back into all this—just a little confused is all." Elina admits, putting on a smile.

Rick exhales briefly before placing a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. You were a certain way for a while and now all that's crashing down, right?" Elina confirms with a nod. "You don't have to work through this alone—which is why we're here. Why I'm here." Rick says in a reassuring tone. Elina blinks and nods. There's a feeling erupting in her heart and she can't help but feel her ears heat up at it. "Yeah. That's what teammates do." She says.

"Yeah. Teammates."

Elina hates to admit that staring into Rick Flag's eyes ignites something in her—something she'd been looking for, something that brings the card house down tumbling. Elina stared at the man that she'd known for far too short to really admit that she loved him—but, there was something so utterly intoxicating about him. Elina became aware to his heavy hand on her shoulder—it was warm and solid, comforting even. Elina doesn't fight as Rick pulls her forward, hand sliding to her face. He held it gently as they connect—a big shock to her, but not uninvited. Elina feels a little stupid for losing herself to the first man that showed her attention out of her incarceration—this feels too easy, she thinks. But, the feel of Rick Flag's lips against hers are another reassurance: he feels the same.

Elina pulls away, swallowing hard. They're just inches apart, and Elina blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Was that an accident?" She asks, a little breathlessly.

"I—what? No." Rick says.

"Okay. Just...wondering." Elina says, pulling him back slowly. The two of them keep it short, unfortunately, regarding the fact that the rest of the team is just in the seats in front of them. As the bus slowly rolls to a stop, Elina feels her face bloom into a warm blush. She opts to keep her head down as Milton tells them that they've arrived at the club. The squad stood and filed out of the bus, walking towards the entrance of the club. The bouncer allowed them, eyeing their weird outfits—to be fair, they did look weird. Dubois was dressed pretty formally, Christopher was wearing a too-tight polo that rode up if he moved too much, Abner looked like he just strolled out of Saturday Night Fever, Cleo looked oddly childlike, and Rick looked like he'd be spending the night riding a mechanical bull.

The music thumped as they entered the club, getting eyed up by all the dancers as if they were the prey and the dancers were hungry dogs. They found themselves a table and took seats, and Elina sighed heavily before looking around the busy club. "So, when's this Thinker guy supposed to be here?" Christopher asks, falling into his own chair. Elina sits beside Cleo and Rick—and Cleo smirks at her, elbowing her in the ribs. Elina smacks her hand away.

"Supposed to be in the next few hours."

"Looks like we gotta find something to do to pass the time. Uh, miss? How about some, uh... what do you guys drink around here, Fernet? How about a round of Fernets for the table. Comprende?" He asks to the waitress.

"Si." She says, walking off to retrieve their drinks. Elina knew after her many years of not drinking, she was bound to be a lightweight tonight. She was never good at taking in alcohol, it was never something she enjoyed.

"Hey, Pissmaker, we're on a mission." Dubois says, glaring at the man beside him.

"Easy, Inspector Gadget. A little drink never hurt nobody." Christopher says in response.

"Except for the thousands of people killed in drunk driving accidents a year." Says Abner.

Elina looks to him blankly, a little stunned. "Good thing none of us are driving tonight."

Once all their drinks are set in front of them (even Sebastian), Rick raises his glass. "Here's to being alive in three hours." He cheers. The rest of them raise their glasses, clinking them all together. "Cheers to that." Elina says, taking a sip from her drink. Her face screws up in disgust and she immediately sets it down, much to Rick's amusement. He laughs, a large smile on his face. "What? You don't like it?" He asks, cheeks holding the warm hue of the bar. Elina shakes her head, passing him the glass.

"That's fucking disgusting." She admits. "I'm gonna go get an actually good drink. So, I'll be up there." Elina says with a laugh, standing up from her seat and striding towards the bar. She's embarrassed—needing a quick excuse to escape. Not that she regretted the little thing on the bus with Rick, but in fear of him only doing it as a pity kiss. After finding a ripped stool to sit on, Elina leans forward and finds the small little drink menu. She glazes over it and finds something she thinks sounds good before ordering it. Her chin falls to her palm, mindlessly kicking her legs as she waits. "You're not the party type?" A voice says as they sit beside her, only to reveal the person she had ran away from—Rick. Elina shakes her head. "Of course not. I was never invited to any in high school, either."

Her words earn a light laugh out of him. She watches as he orders a beer for himself—and their drinks arrive at the same time. In their own somewhat awkward silence surrounded by the thrashing club music, they sit together, unsure of what to talk about. It seems like hours pass, but, from the watch on Rick's wrist, it's only been a few minutes since he's sat down. Elina feels extremely out of place here—and it's obvious considering the fact even he had noticed. The only time she frequented bars was back in Gotham when she sat at the counters only to listen in on whatever her latest scumbag suspect was up to those days. "Are we gonna talk about that or...?" She asks.

Elina doesn't look at him, toying with the small cheap tiny umbrella in her drink. "What? The kiss? I don't regret it." Rick admits, sucking in a breath. "Do you?" Rick adds, taking a swig from his bottle. Elina thinks for a moment. She shakes her head. She doesn't. Rick smiles widely—pushing himself off the stool. In an instant, there's a surge of disappointment through her body. She had considered the fact he'd changed his mind—that he did regret it.

Then, he nods for her to follow.

Elina gives him a curious glance. "Come on." He demands playfully, latching onto her shoulder and guiding her towards the dance floor. In the middle of the floor is Abner, who's dancing in a crowd of people. Elina grins brightly. Cleo is at her side in an instant, pulling her into the sea of sweaty bodies. Elina allows it to happen—disregarding the way the backs of other people slam into her own. No one has a care in the world around her. Cleo fished Elina from her own worries and Elina let her—losing herself in the music for a moment. The two dance together, soon joined by Abner. Elina looks to him, eyes wide and bright. He's doing some disco move—with his finger to his opposite hip and to the sky. Elina and Cleo exchange a look before copying him, laughing loudly.

Elina looks back to Cleo and grins, pointing to Sebastian. "Can he dance?" Elina asks, swaying to the music. Cleo nods, gesturing for Sebastian to do something. Sebastian stands on his hind legs awkwardly and waves. The two girls burst into laughter. "I saw it happen." Cleo says, jumping around. Elina freezes. "I hate to say...I told you so." Cleo adds. Elina scoffs—playfully smacking her. Cleo forces Elina to dance some more and she alternates between facing Abner and Cleo before removing herself from the floor altogether. With a huff, she leans against the wall beside Peacemaker. "You can't dance for shit, Alman." He quips, crossing his arms.

Elina scoffs. "Shut up. You were literally doing the fucking robot, grandpa."

"You don't like the robot? What about the grocery shopper? Or the sprinkler?" Smith asks, pushing off the wall and turning to her. "No! That's totally a chaperone parent move. It's borderline retirement home material." Elina exclaims, causing Christopher to look offended. "That was so rude. So, so rude."

Elina laughs, shaking her head as she takes a drink from a passing waitress. A little ways away, she can see Rick talking to Dubois, the two laughing. Despite her previous worries, Elina's having a good time. Elina could only assume this was the only fun time she'd have at a place like this—so, she was appreciating it while she had it. Looking back to Rick, she sees him cross the club towards her with a smile. A loud yell erupts through the air, causing both of them to look to a group of soldiers entering the club. They're yelling in Spanish and taking papers from people's hands, and she can only guess it's their ID's. Rick pushes towards her, a hand gripping her arm. "We've been found. Dubois got Thinker—handin' 'em off to Cleo and Abner. We have to make a distraction." Rick says, pulling her towards Dubois and Christopher. In an instant, Dubois is raising his arms above his heads, much to Elina's horror.

"There's no need to disturb everyone's night. I'm right here. I'm the one you're looking for."

Rick does the same, hands raised. "Yep. Us, too. We're his American companions."

Christopher and Elina glare at Rick. "What?"

Rick smacks Christopher. "Ow!" He scoffs, raising his arms. Elina follows suite, watching as the soldiers march towards her. They all get pushed to the floor, a man's knee in her back. Handcuffs are placed on her wrists, funnily enough. Elina looks to Rick as they're pushed out of the club, but he shakes his head. She nods, understanding that they need to keep it low for a moment. Pushed into a truck between Dubois and Chris, they start off towards...well, who the hell knows.

"I'm sorry for you. But soon you will all be joining your deranged compatriot, Harley Quinn." The man says.

"Harley's alive?" Elina asks.

"Not for long. Mayor General Suarez can be rather harsh when extracting information."

Elina scoffs. "Fuck your mayor, dude."

The man nods to one of his soldiers who slams his foot down into Elina's toes. Elina laughs. "Steel toe boots, I'm not fucking dim."

"Dim mak." Dubois says.

"What?" The man asks.

"That's the Cantonese term for it. In Japan, it's kyoshu jitsu. In English, it's simply the Death Touch, how to kill a man with a single blow." Dubois explains, having taking a cigarette offered to him by the man. Elina and the others catch on, looking to the soldiers.

One of them nod. "Of course it's possible to kill a man with a single blow. But it's a matter of chance, and cannot be wielded with certainty."

"That's what they say."

"Who?"

"Amateurs." Dubois states.

"On one?" Christopher asks.

Elina nods.

"One." Rick yells.

Elina knees the soldier in front of her in the neck—hard. His head lolls to the side and she's sure he's killed him. Christopher is behind her unlocking her handcuffs and grabbing the soldier's gun, aiming at the front of the small holding cell they're in. He blasts a hole in it, killing the driver. The truck swerves harshly, causing them to all slam into the walls. Despite the uncontrolled truck, Chris reaches his hand through and shoots the other soldier up front. Now, they're completely fucked. The truck rams into a couple things they can't even see, spinning multiple times. There's multiple explosions, probably others cars. Chris is now slamming the soldier up front into the wall before he seemingly drops dead completely.

Chris looks through the hole and yells. "Shit!"
He yells, trying to reach for the wheel. It doesn't work—they slam into another truck it's goes deafingly quiet before the truck plows off the road, crashing and rolling. The four of them fall into one another, screaming as they bang their heads and limbs into the walls. The truck gives one final roll before stopping all at once, the back filling up with smoke.

Elina groans and looks up at the red lit room, trying to sit up. There's a body atop of her, and she shoves it off to see it's Chris. With a huff she falls back, swallowing hard on the pain. "This thing's gonna fuckin' explode." Rick groans, pushing himself up, unbalanced. He grabs a gun and follows and Dubois pushes the doors open. Wobbly, they all file out of the truck, a little dazed and confused. Elina breathes in the smell of gas and smoke as her unfocused eyes land on Cleo, who's standing with the bus. Dubois coughs. "Alright. Let's go to Jotunheim." He says.

"Nope." Rick says.

Elina looks to him, breathing heavily still.

"There's somethin' we gotta take care of first." He says. Harley, Elina thinks. "Gotta find Harley." Elina says shortly, slowly walking to the bus. She stretches her taut and pained muscles, patting Cleo on the back as she passes. Stepping onto the bus, she sees the Thinker. Her brows furrow in disgust. "God, you're ugly. Who the fuck are you? Pinhead?" Elina asks hoarsley, falling into her earlier seat, this time looking to Nanaue and Abner.

"Nanaue. It's good to see you."

"Friend."

"Yeah! Friend." She confirms.

ty to bloodspqrt for helping me with this chapter a bit! I couldn't do it without them and he's been my main supporter since the beginning of this fic! you should all go follow them and read their suicide squad fic bc it's gonna be the best