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[b][color=DC143C][u]Prologue: Suicide Squad[/u][/color]
Unknown Location, Eastern Europe
May 2nd, 2016[/b][/center][hr]
Roy Harper [i]ached[/i]. In all of his scuffles in his travels, this probably was going to take the cake for his most unlucky.

Roy’s brows narrowed as he stared at the landed helicopter; trying to get the idea of who exactly had overwhelmed him and beaten him halfway to Tuesday. He may not have been his friend in New Jersey when it came to investigative bullshit but he wasn’t the absolute worst at noticing small details and making a connection. But there was nothing about the men with guns around him and the helicopter that gave any idea of who he had exactly pissed off—all unmarked, untagged, and plain. No PMC logos, no corporate brands, not even any names on their tags that hung off their necks. It was like they were being discreet for the sake of being discreet which made him all the more uneasy; after all, in his line of work that was [i]never[/i] a good sign.

His eyes moved down towards the ground for a second.

Several rocks, a few broken sticks, a few pieces of scrap metal, and a few coins that fell out of his pocket when solider #1 decided to gut check him. He’d worked well enough with less, but given the half-a-dozen assault rifles and submachine guns that were pointed on him it’d probably end up poorly for him. 

[color=DC143C][i]Damn It. I’d hate for Ollie to bury me like an overgrown slice of swiss cheese.[/i][/color]

The heavy ‘thud’ of the helicopter’s sliding door being opened made his eyes jump back to attention— a man in a coat with long hair had moved out of the helicopter. He knew this was the person he had been annoying for the great part of two months. He wasn’t close to a name for the man but the only thing the red-haired man knew was that he looked like he was out of a cheap Serbian action movie. 

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[b]“Mr. Harper, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” [/b]

[color=DC143C][i]Not only does he look like a cliché, he sounds like one too. Wonderful.[/i][/color]

The whole action movie villain cliché was, in Roy’s mind, rather overdone. He had spent the better part of the last two months routing shoddy mercenaries from hurting people in the greater Serbian region of Europe. He frowned, as he looked over the man more in detail— despite his appearance it appeared he was unarmed, though it didn’t seem like he gave off the appearance of a weak criminal warlord hiding behind his goons by the way he [i]walked[/i]. It was a military step and one that was bred out of confidence as well as strength. But beyond that Roy couldn’t get an idea about him. Perhaps if he had interned with Batman & Robin he would’ve gotten the skillset required to get a clue. 

“The boss asked you a question.” 

A light sigh left Roy’s lips. [i][color=DC143C]Fine.[/color][/i] 

[b][color=DC143C]“Don’t think we have. I think you were way too busy murdering people for quick cash to bother with me.” [/color][/b]

The butt of an assault rifle was slammed into his stomach— like a tiny metallic battering ram. Soldier #1 didn’t like the sentiment Roy uttered. Roy didn’t quite like the assault rifle trying to say hello to his kidneys. A mutual loathing. 

Roy coughed as the man's smile widened.

[b]“Here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to [i]help[/i] me, and I’m going to tell you [i]why[/i].”[/b]

[color=DC143C][i]Lucky me.[/i][/color]