Mortality

z e r o

"I want to assemble a task force of the most dangerous people on the planet, who I think can do some good. The worst of the worst."

The binder slid over to the two men in front of the woman. Admiral Olsen and Dexter Tolliver stared at her and the binder, shock in their eyes. They believed the woman to be mad. Olsen looked at the binder that was shifted closer to his before he finally said, "They're... bad guys." He spoke as though she didn't understand, as though it was common knowledge that she hadn't picked up on. Amanda Waller was quick to answer.

"Exactly. And if anything goes wrong, we blame them. We have built in deniability." She answered easily, as though that was well known. Olsen cocked an eyebrow, glancing between her and the binder. Dexter Tolliver slowly cut into his steak, savoring the taste.

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

"Well the rumors are right. You know what the problem with the metahuman is - the human part. We got lucky Superman shared our values. The next Superman might not." She swirled the red wine in her glass before sipping from it. The wine coated her lips before she swallowed it, almost nonchalant.

"You're playing with fire." Tolliver shook his head.

"Fighting fire with fire," she adjusted. She opened the first page of the binder and revealed a profile and a picture. An assassin covered the paper, his white mask standing out with the red eye. The background information was legible, perfectly written to showcase his every aspect. "Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot. He's the most wanted hitman in the world. But everyone has a weakness, and a weakness can be leveraged. His is an eleven year old honor student in Gotham City. His daughter. So we watched her and waited."

"You caught him?" Olsen asked, amazed.

"Not me. I just gave an anonymous tip to the right guy in Gotham City. So now we have the man who never misses." Amanda smirked to herself, tracing her finger on the rim of her wine glass.

"Where'd you put him?"

"Let's just say we put him in a hole and threw away the hole." She stated easily, clasping her hands together and resting her elbows on the table. She turned the page of the binder to reveal the next person.

A woman with white hair and bright blue eyes. A wide smile stretched across her lips, tattoos lacing her skin. A small heart was on her cheekbone. The tips of her hair were blue and pink, a color on each side of her head.

"Harley Quinn. Before she ran off and joined the circus, she was known as Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. She was assigned to the Clown himself. She thought she was curing him, but she was falling in love. Talk about a workplace romance gone wrong. They became the king and queen of Gotham City. And God help anyone who disrespected the queen. She's crazier than him. And more fearless. But the Bat got her too. She's in the same hole as Deadshot." Amanda said lowly. She flipped the page.

"Then there's the Aussie. Digger Harkness. Or as the tabloids call him, Captain Boomerang. He robbed every bank in Australia at least once. Then came to America for a fresh target set. He doesn't work well with others. But he tangled with a metahuman and lived to tell about it. And have you heard of the pyrokinetic homeboy?"

"How'd you catch him?" Olsen asked as she flipped the page to reveal the heavily tattooed face.

"We didn't. He surrendered. Chato Santana. On the streets they call him El Diablo. This LA gang banger thought he was the king of the world, until he lost his queen. Gets jumped in a prison riot and incinerates half the yard. The security video is incredible." She breathed. She turned the page to reveal a scaly face, causing the Admiral to jump out of his seat.

"Oh, Jesus. The hell is that?"

"His name is Waylon Jones. Evolution took a step backwards with this one. They call him Killer Croc. He looked like a monster. So they treated him like a monster. And he became a monster. He was chased out of Gotham by the Bat, went searching for sanctuary elsewhere. He never found it." Amanda turned the page, a sly smile on her lips as she lingered on the paper. "I saved the best for last. The witch." She revealed the picture.

"Witch?" Olsen echoed.

"I'm talking a flying, spell-casting, making-shit-disappear, witch." She explained, serious. "A sorceress from another dimension. Another world. Archaeologist Doctor June Moone wandered into the wrong cave. She opened something she shouldn't have. Releasing a metahuman more powerful than any we've ever encountered. The Enchantress. She inhabits June's body now."

"Where is this witch?" Olsen asked.

"In my pocket."

"Now tell him why she won't threaten to turn you into a frog." Dexter sighed.

"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 found her heart." A metal case lay on the table, her thumb pressed against a scanner. It blinked green and disarmed, revealing an explosive and an old heart. It pulsed with a green energy, the outside brown and stone from age. Olsen stared at it in disgust.

"That thing's her heart?"

"She's vulnerable without it." The case snapped shut.

"You want to put our national security in the hands of witches, gang bangers, and crocodiles?" Olsen asked incredulously, his arms crossed.

"Don't forget about Joker's girlfriend," Tolliver piped up.

"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. You take the finest special forces officer this nation has ever produced. Colonel Rick Flag. I assigned him to watch Doctor Moone, and just as I hoped, it got personal. I've got the witch's heart and Doctor Moone has his. Now he'll follow my orders as Holy Writ. In a world of flying men and monsters - this is the only way you protect our country." Tolliver and Olsen shared a look. Amanda moved to close the binder when Olsen held out a hand.

"The last page, Waller. You missed a candidate." A flash of worry crossed her eyes, but it faded the moment it appeared. In the light of the restaurant, the two men missed it. She placed the binder back on the table and opened it to the last page. A young girl's face was plastered on the paper, her eyes staring straight up at them. There was something about her that sent chills down their backs.

"Sela Hart." Amanda announced. "Our national mystery. She checked herself into Belle Reve, no questions and no answers. She's been there for two years now, secluded in a cell and quiet. There are pictures traveling around, pictures of her. All of which she denies. She can't be over thirty, but she says nothing."

"Finally find yourself a challenge, Waller?" Olsen asked.

"For now."