As Parker and Conroy descended to the deeper parts of the facility. Specialist Conroy began taking full note of the person next to him. The information he was given portrayed the Spider-Man as some sort of cold calculation focused heartless machine of a person. However, while he saw where some aspects of the cold calculating persona came from. He himself saw someone gifted with intelligence, but just applying it in a way that none of the brass of the world would deem appropriate. From what he's seen and heard, there is some humanity beneath the wiring that Waller painted this boy behind.
"Alright, we're here. Now, I know I've had this air of confidence around me this whole time...but this is where it might get challenging even for me. So if I hit the manhole cover or get thrown through the floor...do me a favor and just shoot tranquilizers down into it. Is Waylon isn't going to play nice, he won't get to play anything except Dreamland," Peter said as he opened the manhole off it's hinges. He jumped down into the sewer like pipeline-esque cave and felt the splash of the water hit his legs.
"Here goes...hey Jones!" Peter yelled down the cave. As his voice echoed through both ends, he felt a growl mix into the noise. A low growl that rumbled through the cave more than his shout. His spider sense immediately starting pulling his focus behind and beneath him as the water broke to have the towering, lumbering form of Waylon Jones behind him.
"What do you want, buggy boy?" The man named Killer Croc growled, bearing over the lanky Spider-Man. Parker just tried to maintain his composure though, taking a step back.
"A proposition....a deal. We're being given a chance to make something else of ourselves, but it comes at a cost. Our lives or our life sentences, one of them gets cuts short. It's all a matter of how we play by some woman's game. Or...if you follow me, we won't have to play at all," He muttered out. Hoping that the usage of his name initially will get through.
"What could you possibly give that I can want?" Croc asked, lurching over the skinnier and comparatively shorter Peter Parker.
"I could get you back to the Everglades...get you back to wrestling gators. Or maybe we could get you back to Gotham, I know people. I can try and make your metagene modular. I could help you turn this off. You don't have to be Killer Croc...I could make you Waylon Jones again," Peter described. It seems Croc caught what he said about being able to turn the transformation off.
"You can fix this, buggy?" Croc asked.
"First off, spiders are arachnids," Peter corrected, but backtracked once Croc growled.
"I have connections bud, connections that can get you back to normal. You just need to help me with this. Come on Waylon, what do you say?" Peter asked as he held his hand out, expecting Croc to either shake his hand or try to bite it off.
"...You got a deal," Croc said as he grabbed the hand. The absolute monster of a mitt engulfing the puny palm of Peter Parker. The spider man feeling the dry and spiky scaly hide of Waylon Jones scratching and scraping against his own skin. He also felt the healing of his own powers kicking in to fill in any scrapes that Croc did leave. Once his hand was relinquished, Peter jumped onto the ladder leading out of the chamber.
"Pleasure working with you, Waylon," Peter said as he crawled back out of the chamber. Closing it with the manhole cover. Conroy was waiting, with his finger hovering around the trigger guard. Ready to tranquilize Jones should the need have come up.
"Thankfully, Jones is going to play ball with me. So we don't need to put him to sleep," Peter said as he and Conroy walked back through the hallways.
"So what exactly is your plan, to try and get everyone out alive?" Conroy asked.
"Do you have any information about the mission this suicide squad is about to go on?" Peter asked.
"No unfortunately, Waller keeps that under tight wraps. Even from all of us," Conroy denied. He noticed that Peter was looking around, his eyes mostly focused on the ceiling. Following his line of sight, he saw the black 360° security cameras. Small black bulbs acting like extra sets of eyes for the security team of Belle Reve.
"So we're flying blind by the seat of our pants in a situation where our lives are all at stake...I like these odds," Peter said as he hops up onto the wall. Crawling up in a way that gets into the slight blind spots of the cameras. Grabbing onto two of the cameras and yanking them out of the ceiling. Those screens going silent forever in the security room. Shipping back down and stuffing the cameras into his prisoner uniform.
"Getting equipment?" Conroy asked in confusion and concern.
"Gathering scrap to make some cool shit that will hopefully be helpful," Peter corrected. Looking over to Conroy's belt, he noticed a bulky phone like device on his waist.
"SRX 2200 Enhanced Combat Radio, right? With a few encryption chips to focus onto a set of whitelisted frequencies," Peter said, rattling off the specs of the radio.
"Yeah, why?" Conroy questioned.
"Give it to me, that'll be extremely helpful," Peter politely demanded.
"Uh....I mean I could but then there'd be an issue of trying to explain why it's missing," Conroy reluctantly explained.
"You're right....so I'm sorry in advance," Peter said as in one swift motion, he clubbed Specialist Conroy over the head from the back. Immediately knocking him out cold.
"There, now you have an alibi. I plan ahead, Mr. Conroy. You'll thank me later," Peter muttered as he took the radio off of the belt. Sneaking back off to his cell in Belle Reve, with the radio along with the cameras stuffed in his baggy prisoner outfit. He has some work to do, and he has a whole new scrap array to do it with.
YOU ARE READING
The Sensational Suicide Squad
Fanfiction(I won't lie in saying I actually liked the first Suicide Squad movie. I liked the idea of picking people so unpredictable that they could potentially be a safeguard against another Kryptonian threat. However, I did feel like the writing choice to h...
