ˢⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵃᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ

໒꒰ྀི'🐍‧｡⋆

[ an introduction ]

𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧.

Her plan was always shrugged aside, put under the rug. It was insane. Allowing villains to run about under the name of the United States of America Government? She had some nerve.

Waller stepped out of the large black SUV, barely glancing at the men around the car and the restaurant who holstered sleek guns. 

The world changed when Superman flew across the sky. And then it changed again when he didn't.

Walking forward, she nodded in acknowledgement with a smile when a vendor lifted up a black shirt with Superman's S logo, before turning it and reading the single word.

"Remember."

And that is why I'm here.

The two guards opened the door for her, and she entered the restaurant, finding two men waiting in the room. There were a dozen tables, all neatly arranged for any visitors, however only one was occupied. 

Dexter Tolliver and Peter Olsen greeted the woman with nods and pulled out her chair, their meals immediately being brought to them in preparation. 

"We lose a national hero, but you sit there looking like the cat that the canary," Olsen said.

"I've eaten a lot of canaries," she smirked. "It's taken some work. But I finally have them. The worst of the worst."

She reached down into her black leather bag, painted fingers clasping around the familiar red and white binder. Placing it down on the table, Olsen nodded at it in recognition. 

"There's rumors, Amanda, that, uh, that some of them have abilities."

"Well, the rumors are right," she confirmed. "You know what the problem with a metahuman is? The human part. We got lucky with Superman. He shared our values. The next Superman might not."

"You're playing with fire, Amanda."

"I'm fighting fire with fire," she rebuked, taking a sip of the red wine in her glass.

"You're not going to pitch us that Task Force X project of yours again, are you?" Olsen questioned with a sigh.

"Yes. But this time, you're gonna listen." Reaching forward, she flipped the first page of the binder, revealing a first of many biographies the binder held. "Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot. He's the most wanted hitman in the world. Let's say he has an elite clientele."

"What?"

"Hey, Angelo," Floyd spoke into the phone from his spot on the roof building. "This is the exterminator you called for your rat problem. My account's looking a little thin."

"No one gets paid until what needs to get done gets done."

"Nope. That's not the rules. No money, no honey," Deadshot shrugged, adjusting his seating slightly. At the sound of police alerts, he placed his spectacle target over his eye. "Woah. Here's your boy right now. With about twenty of his new best friends. I'm still seeing zeroes over here, Angie."

"Listen, stop being cute and do your job!"

"Oh, they're taking him outta the car now. In about thirty seconds, your window is gonna close forever."

"Okay, okay, okay. Relax. There was an accounting error." Floyd watched as $1,000,000 appeared in his account summary as Angelo continued, "We sent it."

"Now double it for being a dickhead. You got ten seconds."

"We're not the kind of people you play with."

"Did you just... Did you just threaten me?" Floyd questioned.  "This dude's gonna get a sore throat from all the singing he's about to do."

"You son of a bitch."

His phone beeped, and Floyd smirked at the sight of an extra million dollars surging into his bank account. "Pleasure doing business with you, Angie," he smiled.

Ending the call, he cocked his arm rifle and shot. The bullet ricocheted off one of the metal pipes, landing directly on the back of the target's head. 

Sirens sounded and the police became hectic whilst Deadshot disappeared down the side of the building as he scaled it. 

"But everyone has a weakness. And a weakness can be leveraged. His is an eleven-year-old honor student in Gotham City. His daughter," Waller revealed. "So, we watched her and waited."

"You should talk to mama more," Zoe tried, glancing up at her father as they walked the streets.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he nodded.

"Mama stays in bed a lot," she revealed.

"Yeah. She's still going out at night?"

"Dad, it's okay. I can take care of her. I know how to make pancakes now."

"Hey, babe, that's beautiful." Floyd stopped at the side of the path, bending his head to look at Zoe. "Um, she's supposed to be taking care of you. You know, that's how that's supposed to work." Zoe nodded softly, and Floyd smiled. "I want you to come live with me. Alright? I came into some resources, i'mma get us a spot. It's gonna be nice, alright?"

"Mama says I can't live with you because you kill people."

"That's not true. That's a lie. She's lying to you," he defended with a furrow of his brows.

"Daddy... I know you do bad things. But don't worry, I still love you."

Floyd looked away, biting at his lip as he processed her words. Sighing, he gently grabbed her arm. "Come on, let's go baby."

"And you caught him?" Tolliver asked.

"Not me," Amanda shook her head. "I just gave an anonymous tip to the right guy in Gotham City."

"I'mma figure this out," he promised, glancing down at Zoe. "Alright?"

Suddenly, there was a fluttering of movement and fabric, and a hand latched itself onto Floyd's shoulder, the man turning around with a grunt and immediately moving into a stance as he came face to face with Batman.

"It's over, Deadshot. I don't want to do this in front of your daughter."

However, Floyd still whipped out a pistol, aiming it directly at Batman's face, though the superhero quickly countered it, dodging a bullet and breaking Deadshot's knee to subside him. 

As Batman shoved him forward, Floyd rolled backwards and his hands found his trusty gun, eyes piercing as they landed on-

"Daddy, please."

"Zoe, move!" Floyd shouted at his daughter, the girl standing directly in front of Batman.

"Please, daddy. Don't do it," she sobbed, tears glistening her dark cheeks. "Please. Don't do it."

Floyd watched her, and with a clench of his jaw, he lowered his hand, flicking the gun to the side as he breathed out. "Alright," he whispered, beckoning her to move as Batman stepped forward, revealing a pair of handcuffs.

As the police arrived, they aimed their guns but lowered them slightly upon the sight of Deadshot slumped against the building with handcuffs whilst his daughter embraced him in tears.

"I love you, daddy."

"So, now we have the man who never misses," Waller smirked.

"Where'd you put him?" Olsen wondered. 

"Let's just say I put him in a hole and threw away the hole." With a smile, she turned the page, and the congressmen leaned forward with perplexed gazes trained on the photo. "Y/N Lockwoods. Otherwise known as the Viper. Murdered her father at eighteen, and went on to kill her younger sister, Evie Lockwoods a year later."

The congressmen glanced at one another as they analyzed the picture of a seemingly normal woman. E/C eyes that gleamed even in the dark photo, and H/C that framed a beautiful face. Waller chuckled upon their expressions.

"Don't let her pretty face fool you. She's one of the finest hitmen to walk this earth, bordering along psychotic with her methods of torture. A meta-human, her DNA slipping into that of a snake. Her teeth, which she sharpened, produce the venom of a Black Mamba."

Your eyes glinted in the dim lights of the club, and a moment later you stepped out, your arrival causing heads to turn. 

You adorned a dark red dress, the slit running along your thigh as you made your way through the room, brushing alongside swaying, sweaty bodies.

Your gaze latched onto the man in question. He matched the description and photo your client sent to you; strong jawline, brown eyes and curly black hair. 

Easy target, you had thought to yourself upon finding the way he watched your every movement with unmistakable intrigue and lust clouding his eyes.

Sitting down at one of the gambling tables, you nodded when the dealer delt out your cards and chips. Leaning forward, you docked some of your chips, collecting a pair of cards. Glancing over your shoulder, your smile was cat-like as the man, George Bentonia dipped his head in greeting, ignoring the pair of women latched to his sides. Returning it, you resumed the game and waited idly. 

"Hello, gorgeous."

His voice greeted you, raspy and strained from the endless cigarettes and drinks. You said nothing response, continuing to keep your stare on the cards before you. 

Your breath hitched slightly, only noticeable to you as his arms snaked around your waist. George's chin dipped to settle against your shoulder, his lips brushing against the curve leading to your neck. 

"Very bold of you," you whispered in response to his abrupt and incredibly unwelcome gesture.

"How else could I get your attention?"

"Buy me a drink and bring me to your spot," you offered with a tilt of your head. 

"All you had to was ask," he grinned. 

Finally, you turned around in your seat to face him. Your target towered over you, and his eyes dipped to trace each curve or slither of skin you were displaying. Taking your hand, he led you over to his private booth. It was surrounded by sheer curtains and a bright chandelier hung in the center, shining a soft light over the glass table in the middle.

"So, tell me about yourself," you mused as you sidled up to his side. George smirked at the contact, puffing his chest as one of his arms wrapped itself around your frame.

"Well, if I told you..." He leaned forward, his breath fanning over your lips and you inwardly groaned at the putrid stench of stale whiskey. "I'd have to kill you."

Smiling so obscenely sultry, you leaned forward, capturing his mouth in a quick kiss, leaning back and swiping a finger down his lips which were still puckered, eyes hazy with lust as he watched your movements. "That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

"Such a shame," he murmured in agreement, practically melting like putty in your hands.

You grinned to yourself in victory, before vaulting forward. Your legs fell on each side of his thighs, and his eyes were as wide as saucers as his gaze raked over your form. Jesus, you were so tantalizing. George knew for a fact he was in love. You were not. 

"So handsome," you cooed, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, smiling at the sound of his satisfied groan. "Pity you were so vulgar."

"Wha- AGH!"

Your teeth sunk deep into the juncture points, his words and breaths strangled as the venom spilled into his veins. Keeping him steady, you kept his hands on the sofa, remaining in your straddling position.

His groans were broken and pained as his eyes widened at the feeling of the poisonous liquid seeping into his body, all the while you, the gorgeous girl of his dreams, pinned him in a death grip.

You removed yourself from the dying man, wiping a hand over your mouth. The venom fell onto your skin, but you were immune, even if it managed to get into your system somehow. What kind of a villain would you be if you weren't unsusceptible to your own primal power?

You smiled softly at George as the light of life faded from his once salacious eyes, now simmering with pure anger and slight terror as you became the last thing he ever saw. 

Tolliver cleared his throat, nodding slightly. "How'd you get her?"

"She was hunted down by Superman for a couple of months until he finally caught her." Waller chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Not even he was immune to her charms."

You breathed in softly, flexing your fingers against the concrete beneath you. The city of Gotham was beautiful from up here. Where nothing could touch you. 

At the sound of a fluttering cloth, you sighed, continuing to pinch your eyes shut. "You found me."

"That I did."

His voice. God, his voice was intoxicating. You should really be shunning yourself for being attracted to THE Superman. But how could you not? He was large and muscular, and such a goodie two-shoes. A vast difference of taste in the men that always threw themselves at you. 

"You gonna handcuff me, big guy?" you questioned, eyeing him from over your shoulder. 

"Only if necessary."

"You mean, only if I manage to kick your ass." His smile was short and spurred something in your stomach, and you let out a tiny laugh. Standing up, you placed your hands on your hips as you watched him. "You always let me win, you know? Imagine what people would think when they see that you're going soft on the Viper?"

"Let them think what they want," he shrugged a shoulder. "The only thing that matters is that I put you away. You've killed allot of people, Y/N."

"And you've let me get away with it, Clark."

His eyes widened for only a fraction before a sigh left his full lips. "Smart woman."

"Arrogant man."

You felt giddy when his grin widened as he looked at you. Truly looked at you. You were becoming cocky with your thoughts. Perhaps, he wanted something too.

"All these times you say I've allowed you to escape... It's over now. Y/N, you are under arrest. Please don't make this any more difficult than it has to be."

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you began precariously walking across the thin line-edge of the imposingly tall tower. "You used to be so fun, Superman. We'd have ourselves a little game of cat and mouse. Why would you change? I miss the old you."

His jaw clenched as he stared at your pouting lips. How could he stay away? Not when you looked at him like that every time. 

"Viper, please, give me your hands."

"So forward," you smirked, before leaning forward and crossing your wrists over one another. "Cuff me, handsome." He stepped forward, and a chuckle escaped your lips, making him pause with a confused squint of his eyes. "You didn't... You didn't think I'd actually let you get me this time? Oh, how foolish."

Stepping backwards, your heels dipped, alerting your attention. The wind was harsh at your back, and if it wasn't for your suit, you would've shivered. 

"Viper-."

"Toodles."

And you were gone. The air left your chest as you fell, your hair whipping around your face as you lost feeling in your legs. Your fingers flexed, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes as you fell to your death at the sight of his blue and red clad figure aiming towards you as he tried to reach you. 

You gasped at the feeling of his hands resting over your neck and back, and within a second, you were floating softly in the air as he came to a stop. You had fallen halfway down the building, and he looked up (in all his seriousness) as if he thought someone would catch such a 'heroic' action. 

Sighing, you moved in his grasp, allowing your legs to fall from his hold and sway beside his own, hands gripping his shoulders whilst his rested at your hips. The familiar tower roof came into view, and it was silent between you both. 

Looking up, you whispered, "You were meant to let me fall."

Superman searched your face, and you moved closer in his arms, your nerves still rocketing as you refused to look below you at the sight of Gotham from such a height. 

Slowly, he flew backwards, keeping his strong arms wrapped around your waist before lowering to the floor. You thought he would let you go, but he maintained his hold on you. 

Tracing his features with your eyes, you tilted your head, waiting for his reply. 

"You know I couldn't have done that."

"Superman is a man, much like you," she stated, pointing her fork at Tolliver and Olsen. "But he wouldn't go over the edge and into darkness for a woman. No matter her sway." Waller pierced the piece of stake, chewing on the juicy meat before speaking, "He snubbed her and handed her over to me. She's sitting idly like a duck along with Deadshot and our next lewd specimen. Harley Quinn."

Her manic giggle still overpowered the pounding music as she performed a cartwheel, spinning around, her dyed curls framing her stunning face. 

She was a Total Wildcard.

"Before she ran off and joined the circus, she was known as Dr. Harleen Quinzel. A psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. She was assigned to The Clown himself."

"Dr. Quinzel," the Joker sung, enunciating each vowel. "You know, I live for these moments with you." She chuckled softly, before reaching into her coat, causing the man's grin to widen. "What do you got?"

"I got you a kitty," she revealed, holding the cat toy up to his eyesight and moving the fluffy paws with a big smile.

"So thoughtful."

"She thought she was curing him, but she was falling in love."

"There is something you could do for me," he revealed, bright eyes glinting in the dim light. 

"Anything- I mean, yeah," Harleen quickly fixed with a nod.

"I need a machine gun."

Her gaze widened a fraction as she repeated his words, "A machine gun?"

"Talk about a workplace romance gone wrong," Waller smirked.

Officers shouted as they were shot to their deaths, half a dozen men storming the asylum dressed in dark bodysuits, adorning a random mask ranging from a goat's head and a panda suit to two men covered in a white and black slender men helmets.

"Get off me!" Harleen grunted out as a pair of attackers held her down on one of the operating beds. 

"What do we have here?" the Joker smiled as he entered the room, pale, tattooed arms raised in wonder. 

He moved the steel light to shine down on her face as she spoke, "I did everything you said. I helped you."

"Ah," he breathed out, revealing his silver teeth. "You helped me by erasing my mind, worked through the faded memories I had!" With each word, he slammed his fists into the leather mattress, Harleen squinting in fear. "No... You left me in a black hole of rage and confusion. Is that the medicine you practice, Dr. Quinzel?"

"What are you gonna do? You gonna kill me, Mr. J?" she questioned.

"What?" His voice was warped, and he suddenly appeared in front of her, fingers digging into his temples before retrieving a pair of shock visors. "Oh, I'm not gonna kill ya. I'm just gonna hurt ya really, really bad."

"You think so? Well, I can take it," Harleen mumbled. 

Snapping a leather belt, the Joker placed it between her lips, causing her to gnaw down on it in fear. "I wouldn't want you to break those perfect porcelain-capped teeth when the juice hits your brain."

"They became the King and Queen of Gotham City. And God help anyone who disrespected the Queen."

"We finally meet," Monster T greeted, holding his ring-clad finger out towards the Joker.

"Nah, he don't shake hands," Jonny Frost, the Joker's right-hand man informed. "But sit down and have a drink."

Sitting down after retracting, T continued, "Hey, J. On behalf of everybody, welcome back. I wanted to come by and personally say thank you. You making me good money. I'm making you good money."

"Are you sweet talking me?" the Joker suddenly questioned, finally casting his gaze away from Harley as she danced in the center of the strip club, laughing slowly behind his hand which displayed a tattoo of a large grinning mouth. "I love this guy. He's so intense!"

Looking away, Monster T's eyes found that of Harley Quinn. Her moves were harsh and dominating as she gazed at him from over pale shoulder. 

"Mmm. You're a lucky man," he complimented. "You got a bad bitch."

Joker stared at the man before gesturing his arm over to the woman. "Oh, that she is." T looked over, watching as he stood up, limbs shaking. "The fire in my loins. The itch in my crotch. The one, the only, the infamous Harley Quinn!"

As the beat of the song propelled three times, Harley pretended to shoot the dangling chain before running her hands down her face. 

The Clown whistled in beckoning, and as T glanced away, feeling unease creep into his perverted body, Harley appeared with a gushing grin. 

"Oh, come to daddy."

"Puddin'!" she greeted with a laugh.

"Oh, yes. Listen, you are my gift to this handsome hunka hunka!" he exclaimed, gesturing to Monster T with a flourish. "You belong to him now."

"Well," she grinned, grunting out a lustful bark as she draped herself across his legs, the pair chuckling. "You're cute. You want me?" Her question fell against his lips as her hand came up to his cheek. "I'm all yours."

T almost gave into her, but from the heavy breathing emitting from the Joker, paired with his deathly glare, he spoke, "I don't want no beef."

"You don't want no beef? You don't want no beef?" the Clown mocked with a pout. 

"Why, what's wrong? You don't like me? Fine. Don't waste my time then."

Huffing, she stood up, taking a seat as her fingers fiddled with her pink and blue ends. 

"This is your lady," the criminal tried.

"Look, are you enjoying yourself?"

"No," T answered truthfully, leaning back when the Joker came even closer.

"No," he repeated.

"That's your lady, Joker."

"That's right."

"Yo, J-."

BANG!

"And that was just the beginning."

Harley and the Joker cackled maniacally as they sped through the streets of Gotham, ignoring the numerous accidents they caused. 

"Come on, Puddin'. Do it!" she urged upon the sound of deep grumbling from a distant car. 

He listened to her request, increasing the speed as his eyes latched onto the matte black car coming up behind them. "Oh. We have got company."

"Batsy, Batsy, Batsy," she grinned.

"She's crazier than him. And more fearless."

They grunted as Batman landed on the hood of the car, indicating his arrival.

Harley growled, reaching over and taking the gun from the Joker's jacket as she yelled, "Stupid Bat, you're ruining date night!"

"Atta girl!" the Clown laughed, swerving around a corner as Batman evaded the bullets Harley had sent through the roof.

"Puddin'." Her face dropped at the sight of the incoming river. Batman launched into the sky after shooting his grappling hook, and as the car veered off the road and into the water, Harley screamed, "Puddin', I can't swim!"

The vehicle crashed into the water, and due to her not being seat-belted to the seat, she smashed headfirst through the glass.

The car landed at the bottom of the river just as Batman dove into the water. He swam deeper, eyeing the driver's seat door, which was wide open, revealing the Joker's absence. 

He had abandoned Harley. 

Swimming forward, he lifted her head from the hood of the car, revealing her pale face before her eyes suddenly snapped open. Shouting underwater, she swiped her hand which carried a sharp knife in a futile attempt to attack the Batman. 

Not a moment later, she was knocked unconscious and pulled into his arms as he carried her out of the river and towards the BatMobile. 

"But the Bat got her. She's in the same hole as Deadshot and Viper."

Pressing his fingers to her neck, the Batman cursed under his breath upon feeling nothing. Sighing shortly, he pressed his lips to Harley's, transferring air as he performed CPR.

He felt a cold hand slide up his cheek and the pull of her lips as she regained consciousness. Ripping himself away from her and closing a cautionary hand around her throat, she merely giggled.

"And then there's the Aussie," Waller said, flipping the page. "Digger Harkness. Or as the tabloids call him, Captain Boomerang."

Rock music filled the jewelry vault as Harkness and another man used handheld vacuums to take the thousands of diamonds in the trays. 

"We're gonna be rich!" the man laughed, holding a few pieces of gold as he carelessly dropped them. 

"Yeah, you and me, mate," Harkness agreed with a slight smirk, though unnoticeable underneath the scruff of facial hair. "Go and get the car."

He robbed every bank in Australia at least once. Then he came to America for a fresh target set."

As the other man went to leave to retrieve the car, he received a sharpened boomerang to the neck, instantly dropping dead as Harkness ran over, grabbing the bag of diamonds and running the blade alongside his coat to wipe off the blood.

"Doesn't work well with others."

Boomerang laughed and took a single step when the abrupt sound of vaulting electricity filled the hallway. With a perplexed frown, he turned around, eyes widening at the sight of Flash. 

"No honor among thieves, eh?" the superhero questioned.

"But he tangled with a metahuman and lived to tell about it. And have you heard of the pyrokinetic homeboy?"

Tolliver and Olsen looked at the photo of the man, dark tattoos of indented bones and outlines representing the structure they were inked on. 

"How'd you catch him?" Olsen asked.

"We didn't. He surrendered," she revealed. "Chanto Santana. On the streets they call him El Diablo. This LA gangbanger thought he was the King of the world... until he lost his Queen." Olsen leaned back as Waller continued, "Gets jumped in a prison riot and incinerates half the yard. The security video is incredible."

Turning the page, Olsen flinched and muttered, "Oh, Jesus. The hell is that?"

"His name is Waylon Jones. Evolution took a step backwards with this one."

Griggs and a handful of guards walked through the lower levels of Belle Reve, two men holding a large container. 

"Yo, K.C., it's supper," Griggs called. "Go ahead, open that up, B." The man in question leaned down, unlatching the sewer lid. "Got something real nice for you today, boy."

"Hey, boss, it true he chewed a dude's hand off?"

Griggs sighed, and a guard beside him lifted his arm, revealing a fake hand as Griggs tapped it, "Look at that, right there. Vulcanized rubber." The sewer lid scraped against the ground as it was pulled to the side and he took ahold of the gun after demanding it, "Give me that, Smitty. Where you at? Don't make me get you."

"They call him Killer Croc."

"There you are. You hungry?" Griggs questioned when the crocodile man came into view. "You want some food? Go ahead, feed the man. What are you in the mood for tonight? I got a double cheeseburger, onion rings, a little coleslaw... or a giant skinless goat."

The latter meal was dropped through the hole, landing in the murky water of Croc's prison cell, and he ripped the goat from the water and held it up in slight approval.

"He looked like a monster. So, they treated him like a monster. Then he became a monster." She eyed Tolliver as she scraped the steak off of her fork and he uneasily sipped his whiskey. "He was chased out of Gotham by the Bat. Went searching for sanctuary elsewhere. He never found it."

In his cell, he was attacked by the soldiers due to incorporation with his meal. Killer Croc defended himself, biting into any open points in their uniforms before he was tasered. 

"I saved the best for last... The Witch," Waller announced.

"A witch?" Olsen repeated with a disbelieving smile. 

"I'm talking a flying, spellcasting, making-shit-disappear witch," she confirmed. "A sorceress from another dimension. Another world. Archeologist Dr. June Moon wandered into the wrong cave."

June gasped as she tumbled down the cave, her gear suddenly snapping and causing her to fall. She quickly stood, reaching for both the flashlight on her head and her phone. 

As she switched the light on, she glanced down at her mobile, rolling her eyes. 

6 missed calls from 'annoying brother :)'

Her attention drew away from the device upon the unmistakable, ancient musing of her name. Tilting her head, June's gaze zeroed in on what looked to be a treasured pedestal, displaying two figurines standing next to an old depiction of the Devil.

"She opened something she shouldn't have..."

June lifted the female totem, and something compelled to snap the head off. The moment she did, a stream of steam escaped the opening, a maniacal laughter surrounding her.

She followed the smoke with her eyes before they widened at the sight of a figure. A woman in the shadows. 

"... Releasing a metahuman more powerful than any we've encountered. The Enchantress. She inhabits Dr. Moon's body now."

"W-Where is this witch?" Olsen questioned.

"In my pocket," Waller smirked.

"Now tell him why she won't turn you into a frog," Tolliver requested, linking his fingers together.

"Some say the witch has a secret buried heart, and whoever finds it can control the witch. So, we searched the cave where she turned up and we found her heart."

Leaning down, Waller opened her sealed briefcase, pressing her thumb to the keypad in recognition. Olsen stared at the object encased; an oddly shaped concoction of dried leaves, thin branches and cloves, all burning green as something glowed inside. 

"That thing's her heart?"

"Hmm," the woman confirmed. "She's vulnerable without it."

"You want to put our national security in the hands of witches, gangbangers and crocodiles?"

"Don't forget about the snake girl," Tolliver added. "Oh, and the Joker's girlfriend."

"These are villains, Amanda," Olsen sighed. "What makes you think you can control them?"

"Because getting people to act against their own self-interest for the national security of the United States is what I do for a living," Waller merely answered. "You take the finest special forces officer this nation has ever produced, Colonel Rick Flag."

Rick Flag entered the apartment, gun drawn as two other men followed in behind him. They expected to have to defend themselves but the further they made it up the stairs, the more men they found dead on the floor.

Upside down stars of black paint were slapped across their foreheads, and as Rick forced his way into the bathroom, the sight before him left his heart hammering. 

A woman neck deep in black water, with an array of thin branched leaves sitting in the bathtub, the same star painted over the wall. 

And not just any woman. 

His sister.

"Juney...?" he whispered. 

"... Help... me," she begged in a whisper.

"Dr. June Moon was originally June Flag before she changed her last name and disappeared from her home just a year after her brother left for the army," Waller stated. "I assigned him to watch over her. I have the witch's heart. And Flag will do anything to protect the only family he has left. Now he'll follow my orders as Holy Writ."

"Jesus..." Olsen mumbled, glancing at Tolliver who leaned back in his seat, continuing to nurse his glass of whiskey.

"In a world of flying men and monsters, this is the only way to protect our community."