Prikovannyy {Suicide Squad}

Participants: Hardware, Harley Quinn, Rainbow Raider, Captain Boomerang
Open/Closed: Closed to the Squad
Location(s): Belle Reve, Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana and [redacted] 
Time of Day: 1900
Weather: Intermittent weather patterns
Summary: Amanda "The Wall" Waller activates her latest incarnation of the Suicide Squad and tasks Hardware with keeping the villains in line as they [....redacted....]. 

Curtis blinked, and blinked again. He knew his eyes were open but the overwhelming darkness of the room would try to convince him otherwise. He also knew he wasn't alone. So far whoever or whatever else was in the room with him was doing nothing to cause him direct harm, so he focused on other things. Namely, the fact that he was without his armor. Curtis couldn't recall if he had taken the Hardware off himself, but it was supposed to be the only option. The failsafes inside of his armored costume would take out anyone trying to force him out of it, it was a tried and true functionality of his suit. So then how was he now seated in some dark room in just his plasticized metal shell? The question left Curtis perplexed but not wholly distracted, there were other variables to take stock of. Like the fact that while he was clearly abducted he was not restrained in the slightest - this gave him pause. If it were SYSTEM behind this and he wasn't yet a corpse at the bottom of some endless pit then they would have most definitely chained him to something.

Just then the room was flooded with light, blinding white light that Curtis fought the instinct to shut his eyes against; they narrowed only slightly. A woman stood in a far off corner to Curtis's left, she was dressed like a government suit. She was a black woman, full figured, and her hair no longer than an inch. Just looking at her Curtis could see by her demeanor that she had been forced into a number of dick measuring contests - and she had won every one. 

He was seated in a metal chair in the center of the room and now with the lights on he could see that there definitely was nothing keeping him from the door ten feet in front of him. Except maybe the woman if she stepped in his way. Curtis didn't move yet, if there were no chains or cuffs then there was probably some other safe guard to keep him docile, probably invisible to the human eye. He took quick note of the room. It reeked of cleaner, but he could make out the scent of blood just beneath that. The walls of the room lacked any sort of defining character, they were simply a boring slate color. The ceiling was heigh, maybe fifteen or twenty feet, and it was littered with cameras and other sensors. He and the woman were the only people in the room, the chair was the only piece of furniture. Curtis took a deep sigh.

"Congrats on breaking that glass ceiling, sista, but you're working for the wrong people." SYSTEM may have been taking a new approach here but Curtis knew bureaucratic puppet masters when he smelled it.

"And who exactly do I work for?" The woman's expression didn't change but there was a smirk hidden in her dark brown eyes. "Better yet, let me tell you who I don't work for. SYSTEM. Yes, the very same global entity that secretly controls our world that you have been after all your career. Now let me tell you who I am. Amanda Waller. Political, espionage, and counter-terrorist expert. Sole appointed lead of a clandestine institution created - and denied - by the US Government."

"Quite the exposition. Where are we?"

"Terrebonne Parish in Louisiana. Quite literally the swamp."

"Aight, I'mma head out." Curtis quipped as he began to lift himself from his seat.

Amanda Waller didn't move from where she stood, with her hands behind her back, but the shift of her head made Curtis pause just long enough for her to speak once more. "SYSTEM has recently come to our attention, apparently you haven't slowed them down in the slightest. And now they're on my radar. You don't know me yet but you will come to know that I won't stand for some cowardly secret cabal of world powers tampering with the world we are trying to make here at Task Force X."

Curtis was no longer sitting but he wasn't leaving either. 

"They've stopped you at every turn and you've only managed to put dents in their armor. Task Force X doesn't make dents, we scorch the entire goddamn Earth."

"If your task force is such hotsh!t how come I never heard of you?"

"Did you miss the word clandestine? Listen, I don't repeat myself often so make sure you hear this: Task Force X is going to wipe SYSTEM off the map, we have a better shot at doing it with you and you have no shot at doing it without us. This meeting has been a courtesy."

"Courtesy?!" Curtis felt like he was losing his mind. This woman - this Amanda Waller - thought she was going to strong-arm him into joining forces?! "I'm no team player but even I know this isn't the way team-ups work."

Waller frowned, the first time her demeanor had outwardly changed, and she stepped forward. "Make absolutely no mistake, this isn't a team-up. This is you working for me. Your experience and expertise in dealing with SYSTEM will be valuable, our assets, reach, and influence will take us far. But, you work for me until I cut you loose." She was stern without yelling or losing her cool, it was clear to Curtis that this woman was clear to getting her way through intimidation and willpower alike. He didn't like it, and he didn't like her.

"And what's stopping me from walking out of this room?"

Amanda shook her head solemnly, almost disappointed that this was taking so long, as if Curtis wasn't actually worth her time. "I knew you were headstrong and arrogant, however, it's downright disheartening to find you are this dumb."

"Dumb? Heh. You clearly don't know who I am. Good day, Ms. Waller." Curtis walked past the woman and approached the door. He was going to get back to Dakota, assume an older model of the Hardware and then tear Terrebonne parish asunder until they returned his stolen suit to him.

"Curtis Frederick Metcalf. Genius-level technologist specializing in metallurgy, computer science, nanotechnology, and plasma weapons. Degrees in bioengineering, chemical engineering, psychics, and mechanical engineering. You were groomed from adolescence by a wannabe Lex Luthor, and you developed a highly advanced suit of armor to become Hardware; Dakota's #3 hero."

Curtis had stopped at the door, his fingers curled loosely around the handle. He looked over his shoulder, more disturbed that this woman he had never met knew so much than impressed. But also, insulted. "Number three?"

"After a teen and an alien. Sadly neither of them have gone up against SYSTEM as regularly as you have, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. Now, as far as what's keeping you from walking out of this room..." Waller trailed off as she looked to one of the cameras on the ceiling. Curtis instinctively followed her gaze. Immediately lightning ran through the entirety of his being, knocking Curtis to his knees where he could do little more than scream in agony.

Waller was at his side in an instant, her eyes cast down at him like he was some pathetic rodent caught in her trap. "We couldn't get past whatever that second skin is to inject your neck bomb, but we have no shortage of ways of achieving compliance. 

"T-th-the Shell....doesn't....c-conduct..." Curtis was stammering, a mix of world shattering confusion and blood boiling pain keeping him from speaking fully.

"Doesn't it?" Waller remarked as the electricity coursing through Curtis's being suddenly subsided. "Now, let reason sink in and follow me." Waller stepped around Hardware and opened the door, letting a rush of cool air hit him in the face. "Check the arrogance at the door, try anything untoward and it happens again - stronger and longer."

Amanda waited holding the door open for Curtis, allowing him the time he needed to collect himself and his thoughts. 

"Now, let's go meet your team."

((Gah! I hope this is a good enough starter you guys, I just wanted to get Hardware's draft into the team out of the way. The rest of you guys can either already be awaiting Waller in another room for the briefing or you can show how Waller wrangled your charries into this situation. Let's have some unruly fun with these a-holes!))

The worst part about prison isn't the loss of your rights or the confinement but the boredom. 

For example, Digger Harkness could tell you with absolute certainty that there were precisely 36 1/4 off white tiles on the roof of his cell (the 1/4 seemed to have been an error by whomever installed the tile not measuring out the space before laying it all out). He could also tell you that there were 9 dead insects trapped behind the cover of the fluorescent lights that beamed down on him. While he hadn't been in confinement long enough to discern just exactly what species the insects were, he had a feeling that five of them were flies, two were wasps, and the other two? Your guess was as good as his but give him another day or so and he'd be able to pinpoint it. It was unfortunate that every time he got picked up off the streets and brought back to Belle Reve they put him in a new cell... or maybe it was fortunate considering he got to play the tile count/dead insect game all over again. 

In every prison across America, there was a stash of boomerangs hidden somewhere inside. In Blackgate he had them stashed behind the back tank of a toilet. In Stryker's Island they were hidden inside the wall of the prison showers behind the plumbing. Belle Reve though? No such luck. No matter where he tried to stash them after missions of Task Force X, Waller would end up finding them. It was partially why they insisted on putting him in a different cell each time he was "collected" for a mission. Digger laid his head back on the uncomfortable cot they had prepared for him and shut his eyes. The very least he could do was sleep before, no doubt, being forced into risking his life for a country he wasn't even a citizen of. "Oi! You let that pitbull in a suit Waller know that Ol' Digger is trying to get some beauty sleep!" 

Digger said that to no one in particular. Armed guards weren't really a thing this far deep into Belle Reve. Enough members of Task Force X were impossibly powerful and ripped through the poor sods like a wet napkin. At this level, there were cameras watching them at all times and the floor could be electrified if people acted out. It was flattering in a weird way. He was around people with impossible powers on a regular basis and he was just some bloke who was good with boomerangs. He'd get a little arrogant about it if it weren't for the imminent death part of the whole Task Force X business.

This time he was at a bar in Central City: Rogue business, mind you. After a couple of tallboys he felt a pretty young thing slip up beside him at the counter and rub her hands all over his chest and thigh. If this were a few years ago he would've been like a kid in a candy shop with that cute sheila. Sadly, being around Belle Reve sucked the fun out of that. He knew it was a trap the second she came onto him. There was the option to run or to fight back, but he knew this story. There were armored trucks and reinforcements and all that unpleasant business outside waiting for him. So he just tossed his money on the bar, held up his hands, and let the woman drag him out the bar. 

Just as he was seconds from falling asleep, he heard a loud door swing open and he cursed loudly. He was seconds from falling asleep too. All of his weapons were confiscated. Thankfully they let him keep the clothes on his back and the boots on his feet. With another loud curse he swung his legs over the side of his bed and walked to the bulletproof, shatterproof, plexi-glass-esque thing that divided him from the outside world. Digger looked down the hall as best as he could from the angle he was in, his scruffy face pressing hard against the dividing wall. Perfect. Waller was coming... and some real ugly bloke. "Waller! You missed me, didn' ya? You heard Captain Boomerang was back from the dead, looking trim and handsome again and you just had to get yourself a piece of that, eh?" He sneered at Waller as she came closer. He hated the woman but he would be hard pressed to think there was anyone who actually liked her. 

Digger did his best to crane his head further to get a look at the other person. He didn't recognize him. He must have been some low level schmuck with one of those super specific abilities they'd only need once before he was fair game to kill. "Christ, Waller. You heard Boomer was sexy now and you had to find yourself a real ugly fella to compensate for it."



(tag anyone)

As Curtis entered the room, he'd see a man in an eyebleeding, rainbow colored suit leaning against the furthest wall back. His hood was pulled down, revealing his curly black hair and scowling face. His gaze was shifted downwards, ignoring the new arrival in favor of a small sketchpad, scribbling away at some unseen doodle before finally looking upwards, a sneer forming on his face as he took in Waller's presence. 

Earlier -

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A groan erupted as Roy fluttered awake...Had his latest drinking binge really been that bad? Hell he honestly couldn't remember. Ever since getting the boot from the rogues, he had been on his way to turning into Digger Harkness, more booze than blood. Shielding his eyes from the sudden light, his attention turned to Waller's hefty footsteps gracefully making their way into the room. 

"Ugh, what do ya want?...Unless your here to give me a chance at kicking Mcculloch's remaining teeth in, I'm not interested." Roy grumbled, looking around at the barren décor surrounding him, and wincing up at the cameras in his hungover state. As he was getting up to his feet, his captor seemed unperturbed. 

"Roy G. Bivolo. The so called Rainbow Raider. Light projections, emotional manipulation, lasers, invisibility. Your skillset would be perfectly suited for espionage, if you hadn't insisted on such extravagant attire. Instead your nothing but a pathetic waste." 

"Great, join the rest of the world in telling me what I already know. Your going to have to do more than insult me lady."

"How about blowing your head clean off your shoulders. Would that suffice?" 

A chill went down Roy's spine at that statement, his fingers mere inches away from the door handle before freezing in mid air. Turning to face Waller properly, he could see the ever so faint traces of a smirk in the corner of her lip. 

"Got your attention now? Good. My name is Amanda Waller, your new overlord for the foreseeable future. A nanite explosive has been inserted into the base of your neck, and I hold the trigger. Disobey my orders, try to run, even tap your foot too loudly an irritate me, and I'll splatter your brains into a Jackson Pollock painting. Do I make myself clear?" 

Needless to say roy was sober now. Almost instinctively he reached for the back of his neck, tenderly rubbing over the freshly sensitive tissue over where the implant had taken place. He looked around once more, checking for any sign of a trigger...all without any luck. Even if he had his goggles on, trying a change of heart on this woman was risky. Who knew what kind of contingencies she had in place, or if she was even the one in charge. 

Trying to hide the trembling in his hands, Roy locked eyes with Waller, a resigned and defeated look upon his face. "Alright you win. Not like I had anywhere else to go." 

------------------------------------------------------------------

Back to present

Of course he wasn't the only rogue here. Out of all of them, Digger was the second worst option. Just below the coked out kaleidoscope. Thankfully the drunkard seemed more interested in a nap opposed to actually paying attention to the assembling crew around him. Roy distracted himself with art as usual, having swiped a notepad and pen from a guard on the escort over from the holding cell. Black ink. Figured. He couldn't do real art here, only his monochromatic imitations. Sketched out on the page was a morbidly detailed portrait of Roy's visage screaming in painful agony, the back of his skull exploding into various bits of bone and brain matter. No doubt a look into his own future. Finally glancing over to the newcomer, a skeptical eyebrow rose up. He knew his Z listers, being as he was often labeled as one, but this was a surprise. 

"Yeesh, I knew you were desperate for taking in a failure like me, but the Manikin? Aren't you really scraping the bottom of the barrel for this mission? With a black paintjob indicating she's gone into an emo phase? We're doomed for sure." 

Curtis Metcalf Digger Harkness Harleen Quinzel

Harley shuffled down the long, gloomy corridor, her over-sized unicorn slippers making scraping, slapping sounds on the concrete flooring underfoot. Dressed in her pyjamas – a Nightwing tank top and pink shorts, dotted with lovehearts – she still bore the look of a woman half asleep. Her eyes were lidded, her posture lax, and she repeatedly stifled yawns with the back of her hand, smacking her lips loudly. Un-removed eye makeup from an evening or three before had been sleep-smudged almost to her cheeks, giving her face an almost panda-like quality. Her hair hung in two messy pigtails, long strands having fallen free, swaying lazily as she was herded toward her destination. At her sides wandered two wardens, clad in riot gear, her own personal escort.

They’d been briefed well enough that they kept their distance, no matter how tired their charge might have seemed.

Harleen had no clue how she’d found herself in Waller’s clutches. The last thing she remembered was taking a break from renovating her new apartment-slash-hideout, hitting Gotham’s bars with friends and what amounted to family. She’d woken up in a cell – which wasn’t unusual when alcohol was involved. That she was wearing her pjs and had a random phone number scrawled on her left thigh? That tracked. The cell’s location though, in South Louisiana? Not so usual. She’d assumed ‘road trip’ until she’d felt a tell-tale lump in the back of her neck: one of the head-exploding devices she’d heard rumours about.

She’d never been a member of the Suicide Squad, but she knew people that had. They’d all had lovely funerals.

Kicking, screaming, shouting, whining and general tantrum noises had followed the realisation. Not that it’d helped. On two separate occasions, she’d fallen asleep mid-fit. But it quickly became clear her resistance was getting her nowhere, and thus she’d given up, choosing instead to bide her time until her captor revealed themselves.

They chose to do so just after she’d crawled into bed for the night.

The trio finally reached the large, metallic, door they were headed toward, and one of the guards stepped forward to open it. ‘In there.’ When Harley didn’t immediately respond to the given order, the one who’d remained at her side placed a hand on the small of her back and shoved her forward sharply, causing her to stumble into the room beyond. She only narrowly avoided falling flat on her face; her ankles bound with thick shackles.
“Hey! Hands off the merchandise Cop. A-Feel!”
The door slammed quickly behind her.

Dotted about the space were a number of individuals Harley didn’t recognise in the slightest: a man in a tight black bodysuit, splashed with rainbow colours; a squat woman in what looked to be business attire and some sort of living, breathing morph suit. Tilting her head, she looked between them, eyes wide. Then, with an innocent grin, she raised her leg as best she could, pointing a finger at the digits scrawled across her thigh. “This ain’t any a yours, is it?” She was fairly confident she had better taste than that, but there was no accounting for drunk!Harley, and the morph suit was kinda cute if she squinted really hard and caught it in the right light.

Curtis Metcalf , Roy G. Bivolo and Digger Harkness

If Waller really thought she had found, or created, herself a new obedient lap dog then she was sadly mistaken. No matter what levels of torture or contingencies she had up her twisted sleeve, Curtis was going to force his way from under the woman's thumb and take her down! He just needed to figure out how and when. This Task Force X business was going to blow up in her face (pun intended), Curtis was going to see to it. However, for the time being he kept himself from getting electrocuted and followed her lead down a long hall, old stone and concrete was all there was for as long as the eyes could see.

"Formerly a state run prison, Belle Reve is now federally bankrolled to play host to the worst of the worst."

Curtis could tell it was a brag, apparently she must have been the one entrusted to run this whole shindig along with her task force. It sounded like crap work to him. Wrangling a bunch of asshats, in the swamp, in an old decrepit prison? Sounded like Amanda Waller had pissed off one too many of the good ol' boys and was stuck with this detail as punishment. Seriously, who would choose this outfit to run?

"Naming a prison after a plantation? How fitting." Curtis said, speaking of the name that Waller's headquarters shared with the plantation from A Streetcar Named Desire. The woman ignored this.

On their walk down the prison's grimy halls Curtis and Waller came upon a cell similar to that which housed Hannibal Lector, famously. Inside was someone far less sophisticated, however. An Aussie who's special talent was seemingly talking endless lines of drivel. Waller had initially passed the cage that held the belligerent aussie, but a few more words from him caused her to stop, utter a command, and then Digger's cage was opened. Waller commanded him to follow, he had just drafted himself into his next mission. Curtis simply eyed the other man, no words wasted on him.

The trio's destination was another room, one that was larger and much more well lit compared to the dim halls they had just traveled through, and there were others there already waiting. Curtis took in the view of the other people in the room. They all looked like chumps. So this was her team that she held in such apparent high regard? The people who scorched the entire Earth? Curtis almost laughed.

So, taking stock, there was a crazed Aussie, some man who had been apprehended at a Pride parade(?), and a woman who Hardware was two thousand percent sure was the chick who used to be on the news right along side the Joker. Now that was wild. Her chipper persona made his skin crawl. 

Amanda's eyes lingered on Harley once she was added into the room. The Clown was a new addition, Waller personally thought she could be of great use. She was like Joker, except much more tamable and capable, and probably wouldn't kill everyone else on the team. Probably.

"What is this Waller? What happened to the worst of the worst? Or was I supposed to take that more literal? This looks like a caravan of losers, not a Task Force of any kind! What are they gonna do, throw paint? Sic a kangaroo on SYSTEM? Tell #@%^&#^ knock knock jokes?" Hardware was hardly a known face and name himself, but he wasn't about to lose his high and mighty attitude that easily.

"Shut up and sit-down."

There were stools and desks in the room like a high school chemistry classroom, but no one was sitting because none of them were f&#%ing teens. However, it was clear Waller wasn't moving forward until they did. Her words weren't just for Curtis, but everyone.

Waller stood before a large white screen that nearly blended in with the white of the walls around them. A video began to play that looked like footage captured from a GoPro, meaning it was shaky as all hell.

"This is half of the Squad, the other half will meet you when you reach the target zone. The four of you will be dropping into Coryana, an island nation heavy in arms deals. In 24 hours they plan to deliver the biggest and largest arms deal to whichever nation pays the most, most of those nations being United States enemies. You will be given the coordinates where to meet with the B Team, who have already located the manufacturing facility where these weapons are, once you've landed. Together you will breach their facility and destroy these weapons of mass destruction before any sells can be finalized."

The screen behind waller showed what was apparently the initial infiltration of the island nation by the so-called B Team. It looked hectic and it looked like opposition was heavy. Whoever this B Team was, they were on camera duking it out with and fleeing from armed guards.

"Lawton is on sabbatical currently, so running point on this mission - and keeping you degenerates in line - will be Hardware," Waller gestured to Curtis and he suddenly felt oddly on the spot, like he was worried the villains would judge him. "He's not a lowlife like the rest of you, but he's as every bit committed to this team." Of course they all knew what that meant.

And now it felt like Curtis had the floor, like a million eyes were on him. But what the hell was he supposed to say to a bunch of people forced to play Waller's war games? He turned to look at the eyes that had fallen on him. They were all expendable in Waller's mind, and none of them even mattered to Curtis himself. He was forced into this ridiculous suicide squad and she was supposedly giving him the reins as leader. Sounded like bulls##t to Curtis. He couldn't and wouldn't wrap his mind around any of it. So he said nothing, and turned his attention back to Waller.

"When do I get my armor back?"

 Digger Harkness  - Roy G. Bivolo - Harleen Quinzel

Boomer had to keep from nodding off during the briefing. He'd seen this picture a thousand times in Task Force X. Go to a place that can get you killed, do a ridiculous thing, come back home and get locked up in your cell. Somehow he was one of the few that could say that he'd watched it so many times. Rinse and repeat. It felt like him and Lawton were the only two lucky/unlucky enough to keep winding back up in Task Force X. Even though he died it wasn't Task Force X related - frankly he wished it had been since that would've made a better story. Not that he wished that anymore. Ol' Captain Boomerang preferred being above ground these days. 

Digger looked around the room at the other squaddies this go around. Working for Waller was an acquired taste and, unfortunately, most people who didn't like the taste didn't live long enough to leave the negative Yelp review. As often as he had been "drafted" onto Task Force X's missions, he had a bit of a knack of seeing who'd stick it out and who would be trouble on a mission. Of course there was a whole B-Team waiting for them no doubt full of even bigger losers than this rainbow fella. One guy always thought they were better than Task Force X and got their head popped by Waller to prove her point - that was clearly going to be the ugly guy. One guy always loses his head and freaks out due to how dangerous the mission turns out to be - that's definitely going to be the fella in the rainbow get-up. So, that just left him and the Joker's old lady left. Digger gave her a bit of a wink before removing his beanie and slicking back his thick red hair (yes, he was going to enjoy every availability to run his fingers through his hair now that he got it back). Joker was apparently one of the sickest that there ever was and any sheila crazy enough to shack up with him was definitely worth a shot. You know what they say about the crazy one? 

Waller's last remarks shook him out of the impure thoughts that were running through his head. Wait... Deadshot didn't get picked up?  Did he piss and moan about having a daughter again or something? Also who is leading the mission? Digger shot up to his feet, kicking back his chair in the process. The chair slide across the floor and landed in front of the room's armed guards. "Wait, you're dreaming, Waller! Lawton gets a vacation and you make this new yobbo field commander? I got seniority!" 

Waller's eyes were cold as she looked him over. His eyes immediately checked her hands for a remote. It was hard to tell where she was hiding the remote that would burst his noggin. Hell, it may not even be in her hands but with some fella watching this all on the security cameras. "You're also a self-preserving coward who'd sell out the rest of the team to save your own neck. One more outburst like that, Harkness, and the next shrimp on the barbie is your's." 

Digger knew when he had pushed his luck - it was partially why he had lived through so many of Task Force X's suicide missions. Some people can bend steel or fly, his power seemed to be staying alive on these sorts of missions. Digger picked up the chair he had kicked over and sat back down on it as he looked over the new guy. He'd never heard of him. Even if he wasn't a "lowlife" a guy with the reputation to run their field mission should at least be a known commodity in his circle of thieves, hitmen, and the like. Must be a nobody if he never took down anyone he had heard of. "Hardware? Great name, fella." 

Was that lady paler than everybody else? Or were his eyes just acting up again? Honestly it was near impossible for the colorblind artist to tell. All he could say for sure was that she didn't seem anymore sane than the rest of the bunch. 

"Can't say it was me. Unless you wanted me to paint you a picture or somethin'." Bivolo stated disinterestedly, far more focused on the looming sense of dread that seemed to be eclipsing the eclectic meeting among strangers. At the strange silhouette's tirade, Bivolo couldn't help but raise an annoyed and skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh shut it. You ain't any more special or renowned than the rest of us.  Is five minutes of peace and quiet before we all meet our bitter end too much to ask?" Grumbled Bivolo as he closed his sketchbook, slowly shuffling himself to the nearest chair, watching with passive disinterest.

Another team eh? Well at least there was backup. Hopefully they'd be a smidge more loyal than his LAST team. Casually glancing a passive glare towards Digger at that moment. Hardware eh? Guess it wasn't the Mannikin afterall. Now he REALLY had no clue who this egotistical loser came from, or what his deal was. 

Listening on to the lecture, he expected it in 3...2....1....Yep. There it was. Digger being a s**tfaced weasel as usual. He had to stifle himself from laughing at the sheer absurdity at the thought of Boomerang being in charge of anything. Let alone people's lives. 

"Oh please Harkness. Back with the rogues we couldn't even trust you to put in our pizza order correctly. Let alone lead us into battle. I may not know who the walking baby's first cosplay is, but I'd trust him a thousand times over before your sorry behind. Speaking of the boys, bet Snart would LOVE to hear all about how you've been part of a government hit squad behind his back. He'd be thrilled. Let me die with my last shreds of dignity in tact after y'all tore it apart piece by piece, and just do what you're told for once without whining."

Curtis Metcalf Harleen Quinzel Digger Harkness