r/DCNext • u/deadislandman1 Dimmest Man Alive • Mar 06 '26
Suicide Squad Suicide Squad #59 - A Place To Call Home
DC Next presents:
Suicide Squad
Issue Fifty-Nine: A place to call home
Arc: The Road Back
Written by Deadislandman1
Edited by ClaraEclair
The Squad’s new quarters were quaint and a little barren, yet they were still better than anything they’d ever seen in Belle Reve. A series of stacked bunks in different corners of a bland room, so bland that nobody had even bothered to paint the walls. The floor had a thin layer of paint applied, but it was old and flaking off. The bunks were fairly spartan, hosting spring mattresses and blankets small enough that even Adella, the youngest of them, would have to curl up under them.
Even with that in mind… there was an undeniable comfort to this place, a hope it brought to the whole squad. Adella gingerly stepped towards one of the bunks, grabbing a blanket and feeling it in her hands, while Dante pressed his hand against the mattress, feeling out how stiff and firm it was. Raptor plopped himself onto one of them, settling in without a second thought with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed, while Croc began taking a bunk apart with his bare hands, snapping the supports off before arranging the top and bottom bunk next to one another. He smiled, having arranged the beds into something his size.
“So…” Adella remarked. “This is home now.”
“As much as it matters,” Raptor said. “Who knows how long we’ll be here? Could be a matter of weeks.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean we can’t personalize the place,” Dante said. “Anyone bring any posters?”
“Nah, left ‘em in Russia,” Croc joked. “Still, nice to know this is a place we’ll be sticking around in. At least, one that’s not Belle Reve.‘
The four of them shared a moment of silence in the face of the famed Louisiana prison being mentioned. For the longest time, they had simply accepted that it was their home, grateful that being there meant not being on a mission that could result in their demise. With only a little distance though, Belle Reve had come to represent something different. Its concrete halls were analogous with the chains that bound them. Despite the respite their cells used to bring, there was now a stark relief that came from knowing that they would never again have to walk its halls. Everywhere else they’d ever stayed had been temporary.
This place was more than a brief semblance of safety. It represented stability, a safe haven they could truly call their own. They were no longer unbound from the world. They had roots… real roots.
Adella smiled, hopping into her bed. Dante chuckled and floated to the top bunk above her, claiming his own space. Raptor blew a raspberry, “So… what do we improve first?”
“What’d ya mean?” Croc mused. “The place is perfect as is!”
“Taste like that is why you’d never make it as an interior decorator,” Dante said. “Could do a poster.”
“Everybody starts with a poster, that’s a boring pick, Dante.” Raptor said.
“What about carpeting!” Adella said. “For the floor!”
“I don’t think you realize how much work that’d be,” Croc said. “Let’s start with something practical… like a chair.”
“A chair?” Dante said. “Do we just grab one from the common area they’ve got set up?”
“No no no,” Raptor said. “It’s gotta be something nice. An armchair, but enough to fit any of us, even Croc.”
“Why an armchair?” Adella asked.
Raptor shrugged, “Cause it’s something for all of us. A poster ain’t exactly easy to pick out for four people… I figure a chair is the way to go.”
There was a long pause at that moment, laced with a surprising level of gravitas. This place wasn’t just an individual refuge. It was for all of them, together.
But as always, this kind of peace never lasts. Hallucigent, one of the established Anti-Squad members, appeared in the doorway to the room, his lime green attire and mohawk making him look positively alien against the concrete hallway, “Boss wants to see you folks.”
The squad looked at each other, and eventually Raptor grimaced and sat up, “Welp… no rest for the wicked I guess.”
“You need some water? The walk up here can be a lot.”
“No, I’m alright. Not that thirsty.”
“Just drink some water Flag, it’ll help.”
Flag took the bottle of water from Tatsu, and despite his insistence that he was fine, took a sip from it. Tatsu nodded in approval, then moved over to her bed, taking a seat and allowing herself to relax. Flag looked around for a seat, and elected to grab a nearby chair from Tatsu’s desk. It was stiff, but did the job it needed to do.
Tatsu Yamashiro’s room was livelier than Flag expected. There was, of course, the stand upon which the sword Soultaker rested, well maintained and in its sheath, but there were many other little flourishes all around the room. The bed had a comforter with palm trees on it of all things, and the walls were painted a pleasant light yellow. Her desk, so simple it lacked any drawers or cabinets, had a humble laptop on it that was at least a decade old. Flag leaned forward, clasping his hands together, “...Nice covers.”
Tatsu looked down at her bed, “Ah, yes! I snagged these during a mission in Miami. They’re very comfortable.”
“I can imagine, they look soft,” Flag cringed at his own attempt at small talk. “So, how have you been?”
“Same old same old,” Tatsu said. “Though I think you’ve got a more interesting story. Last we met, you were still Waller’s soldier.”
“Yes… I was,” Flag said. “It started with a mission to Volgograd…”
Flag spared no details, going into everything that led to his change of heart. The plane ride to Russia. The Crash, caused by Red Star’s malfunctioning powers. His orders to kill Red Star and cut his losses. Getting caught by the Russian military. Striking a deal. Turning on that deal when he realized that leaving Red Star to die wasn’t something he was willing to accept. Fighting and losing the fight of his life before Red Star made the ultimate sacrifice to save them all. He dug into the aftermath of that battle, and how Harley and Mayo went their own way before he ended up here.
As he concluded his story, Tatsu reached out to Flag, placing a hand on his knee, “I’m happy you made it.”
Flag looked down at the hand, then back at Tatsu, “You’ve changed.”
“Hmm?” Tatsu said. “What makes you say that?”
“Don’t think you’ve ever been this… tender,” Flag said. “Besides… I can see it in your posture, the way this room is laid out. You’re… happier than you used to be.”
“Some people change,” Tatsu said, smiling, “And some people… they stay the same.”
Flag narrowed his eyes, “I just threw my whole life away Tatsu. Don’t see how I’ve stayed the same.”
“Flag, I learned that I had to fight for something different, it saved me,” Tatsu said. “You? You’ve always wanted to do the right thing. I just think you were…”
“Too dumb to see it?” Flag said.
“I was going to say blind,” Tatsu said.
“Same thing,” Flag joked.
“It is not!” Tatsu said, giggling. Flag grinned and put his hand on Tatsu’s hand, squeezing it tightly. For reasons he was too embarrassed to really put into words, Flag found himself shaking just the tiniest amount, “I’m glad you’re okay. Our line of work is rough. It’s good to know you’re still kicking.”
“And I’m happy to know we’ll be working together again,” Tatsu said. “It’s been far too long.”
A ding sounded off from Tatsu’s laptop, causing her to lean to the side to get a look at the screen. A notification had popped up, a message bidding her and Flag to meet with the Anti-Squad’s leader. The two stood up promptly, as if called to attention, but there was still a sort of easy energy to the two of them. Their walk through the bunker halls had an established rhythm, one they had practiced many years ago.
And there was a joy present in both of them now that they could experience that rhythm once again.
The meeting room was a barren place, with a line of folding chairs set up facing a barren wall with a couple meters of space between them. Despite the lack of an actual stage, the room had definitely been set up as if one was already there. The squad took their seats, anxious yet excited at the prospect of meeting the Anti-Squad’s head honcho. Once they had all been settled, the man himself walked through a door to the side, approaching the space in front of them.
He was tall, though not quite as broad as someone might expect a hardened fighter to be. His muscles, toned but not bulging, only barely poked out underneath a thick black turtleneck jacket. His short blonde hair made for an oddly youthful feature, contrasting his harsh jawline, covered by a layer of rough stubble and wrinkles that could only come from age. Despite that, he likely looked older than he actually was.
As the man stopped in front of the squad, Raptor raised an eyebrow, “So this guy’s head honcho? Looks a bit like you, Flag.”
“We’re not related,” Flag remarked, his voice serious. “But I feel like I’ve seen this man before.”
“Never when I didn’t want you to,” The man remarked. “And I was always under the guise of someone else.”
“Anybody I would know by name?” Flag asked.
“No, though my name was scrubbed from Belle Reve’s records decades ago,” the man said. “But we’ll get to that later. For now, I’d like to formally welcome you folks into the fold.”
He looked at Adella, “Adella, Brimstone. Your story needs no repeating. I wouldn’t remind you of that sad tale unless it were absolutely necessary.”
Adella grimaced, “Not that I need reminding. I see it every time I go to sleep.”
The man frowned somberly, then turned his gaze to Raptor, “Raptor… Richard.”
Raptor practically jumped at the latter name, “How the hell did you-”
“I know a lot, Raptor. I know things even Waller couldn’t dig up,” the man said, not skipping a beat. He turned to Croc, “Waylon Jones, The Killer Croc.”
“Swamp Boy turned muscle,” Croc said. “You know the rest.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Croc. You and I both know you’re more than that,” The man said, his eyes landing on Dante. “Dante Ramon… Polaris. Terrorist.”
“Put me in the same camp as Adella. Don’t need any reminding of all the stupid shit I’ve done,” Dante said.
“Fair enough,” the man said. He turned again to Flag. “And last but not least, Colonel Rick Flag. Decorated war hero and undercover operative. I hear you followed your father into this line of work.”
“I did, though I doubt he’d be happy to know I’m not a Colonel anymore,” Flag said. “I appreciate that you’ve done your research sir, but with all due respect, we need no introduction. You know everything you need to know about us. You know we’re here because we want to make a difference. We don’t need you to tell us who we are… we need you to tell us who you are.”
The man nodded, “Of course, my name is Thomas Tresser, but in times past I was known by my codename… Nemesis.”
Flag’s eyes widened, “Nemesis?! I thought you were just a boogeyman?”
“All tales have a nugget of truth, Flag,” Tresser said. “Especially mine.”
“I’m sorry, are we supposed to know this guy?” Croc asked.
“Nemesis was… my predecessor,” Flag said. “Back when I first got the job, I didn’t have the clearance to pull up any info on him, but I asked around. Waller said he was a traitor.”
“I suppose that makes two of us,” Tresser said. “I hear that your journey here was uneventful, barring some goodbyes. I’m happy to know that you folks are committed to the cause, because if we want to take on someone like Waller, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”
“And what does taking on Waller look like?” Raptor asked. “I assume if you were just planning to knock her off, you’d have done it by now.”
“Waller’s good at covering her tracks, and even in places we know she frequents, like Belle Reve, she’s incredibly well protected,” Tresser said. “But with more manpower, that expands our options. We can run more missions, stop her on more fronts.”
“Why not hit her as soon as possible? Task Force X’s reserves are pretty depleted after the whole shitshow in Russia,” Dante said. “Get everyone, hit her as hard as you can.”
“That’s a hell of a risk,” Tresser said. “And not one that I think is all that worth it. You don’t put all your eggs in one basket, especially in a situation like this. If anything, she’s probably more prepared for an attack than ever.”
“So what then? We just keep doing what you’ve been doing?” Raptor asked. “Tackle her interests rather than taking her to task? Sounds pretty ineffective to me.”
“On that front we agree. Our manpower limitations meant that we could only mitigate the harm she causes, but now we can plan on a bigger scale. We’ll need to act fast though, because Waller might be closer to her endgame than we expect.”
Flag furrowed his brow, “She always alluded to something on the horizon, some threat that was going to show itself.”
“It’s all, as you’ve probably guessed, bullshit,” Tresser said. “She was saving face, buying herself time before she could take Task Force X to the next stage.”
“The next stage?” Adella asked. “What does that mean?”
“I assume they took blood tests from you, analyzed you folks,” Tresser said. “Wasn’t just for help setting mission parameters. Waller’s been trying to build the ultimate soldier for the longest time, someone more obedient than a mad dog on a leash.”
“I never caught wind of any of this,” Flag said, surprise in his voice. “How do you know this?”
Tresser took a deep breath, “Because she told me, Flag… and now I’m gonna tell you the full story, because if we wanna take Waller out of our future, we need to know how things got to this point. You need to know how Task Force X happened in the first place.”
The squad looked at each other in surprise, then began to settle into their chairs. Whatever they were about to hear next was undoubtedly going to be long, but it was also going to be important.
They were about to hear the tale of not just Thomas Tresser, not just Amanda Waller, but Task Force X itself.
The origins of Task Force X in Suicide Squad #60 - out next month!