It's been about a week since Peter managed to convince the rest of the crew to play along. He's been working diligently on dismantling the cameras and the radio. Using the near photographic schematics he's developed in his mind for both to try and jury-rig some potential tools for the mission.
His spider-sense started going off, rapidly trotting footsteps of trained soldiers running towards him and everyone else. Quickly reassembling the radio back to fully functional condition, along with keeping some spare parts from the cameras that he determined to be useful in the radio as he shoved everything behind his back and down his pants. Jumping onto the wall and crawling up onto the ceiling. The door opens and in burst a small team of armed men, a mix of guards from Belle Reve and some of Waller's own personal guard. They combed the room, as Peter tried to leap down and around the door frame to escape the cell.
"Nice try buddy, you're going to have be better than just bum-rushing me," Peter said with a cocky smirk as he pulled the door closed again. Seeing a small fob like device jammed into a panel adjacent to the door. He grabbed the device and twisted it, hearing the door beep and hiss as locks clicked closed.
"And a security key for me, thank you gents," Peter said as he shoved the key into his pocket. Making a break for it down the hall, as more soldiers rounded the corner. Some were larger than others, as Peter had to try and think ahead and do rapid calculations in his head. By the time Peter's calculations had come to give solutions, he had already been tackled and restrained. He felt the prick of a needle enter his arm, and he suddenly felt lulled to a drug induced sleep.
In his state of drugged slumber, Peter could still feel everything that happened to him and could extrapolate the full context of the actions. He felt his hands and feet get restrained, which means he was set against some sort of transit. He didn't feel his legs straighten and strained, so he could assume he was in a seated position. He could hear punches being thrown, he could assume it was someone else on the preselected team. Not Harley, there wasn't nearly enough manic laughter. Not Croc, there's no growling and screaming. Has to be Floyd then, he's trained enough. Electric buzzes along with monstrous roars, those had to be Waylon. Then he suddenly felt something stab into the back of his neck. A needle, maybe a drug? No, it felt too large and the injection felt less like a liquid and more like an object had been slipped in.
Must be a gps chip. We're going to be tracked then, that's a complication but nothing I can't prepare ahead for. He thought to himself as he suddenly had a wave of warmth wash over him. Must've just gotten outside, he heard noises of everyone else around him. Harley's giggling along with the occasional sadistic joke, Floyd giving someone a piece of his mind and Jones being the feral animal that people think he is.
The sound of tires rolling up, a door opening, scuffling and dirt rustling. Someone was brought in, another member? It presumably has to be the Australian one, since they'd be the only one that would need their own transit vehicle. Peter began stirring awake, the drug being processed out of his system faster due to his metabolism being enhanced. Once he fully woke, he saw the full scope of the situation. Dragged out to the yard, Harley and Floyd both restrained in similar restraint chairs. Waylon being strapped to a giant hand-truck like he was Hannibal Lecter.
In front of Peter was a battalion of soldiers and guards, all aiming their weapons in front of him. One of them stepped up front and center. He had dingy yellow camos, with a darkened green plate carrier. Radios and magazines bring clipped and held in the various pouches and pockets around the man's body. Too armed to be a regular soldier, yet doesn't seem cautious enough to be one of the Belle Reve guards. Must be a military personnel, some sort of commander over this heish team that everyone's been put on.
"Alright, welcome to Taskforce X. I'm Colonel Rick Flag, I'll be your commanding officer when you freaks are out on missions. You listen to everything I say to the letter. You disobey me, you die, you try to escape, you die. You overall irritate me or vex me, guess what'll happen?" Rick introduced.
"We'll die, and you'll always have a way to find us with these gps trackers you injected into us. Right, sir?" Peter said immediately, getting colonel Flag's attention.
"Trackers? Oh you mean our insurance policies. Yeah don't think we're dumb enough to just let you be able to vanish with nothing more than just gps. Those are small explosives, little over the strength of a grenade but a little shy of the size of rice. Right at the base of your skull. With the press of a button, I could take your head off. Did you figure that out, genius?" Flag explained, making them all stop their snark. Even Peter was taken off guard, of everything that could have been possible in this situation Peter was not expecting an explosive in his neck.
"Did that throw you off?" Rick asked snarkily. Peter's eyes were just darting around silently. Him trying to evaluate the different possibilities he could do now.
"For now...don't think you've gotten one over on me. The last guy who thought that got hurt real bad," Peter said, shifting his gaze to meet Rick Flag's.
"Is that a threat?" Rick Flag questioned, something he thought the Spider-Man wouldn't answer if he knew what was good for him.
"Not a threat. Threats imply the possibility of not following through. This....this is truth," Peter slowly said with nothing short of wires and machinery in his tone.
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...
