Pennsylvania Avenue was one of the most famous streets in the continental United States. It was a simple straightway that led from the Capitol Building, the base of operations for Congress, to the White House, which held the offices of the President and his personal staff. The inside of the Oval Office was spacious and well lit. The President of the United States stood against a windowpane, the curtain pushed back revealing the front lawn of the White House. Hours of work and a shameful amount of money went into keeping the landscaping clean and pristine. Appearance was half the battle when it came to American politics. The President pushed away from the view, ashamed at his role in the democratic process.

The leader of the free world spoke to his guest after a lengthy duration of silence. “When I took office five years ago, I never thought that I would be having this conversation.”

“This is a new world, Mr. President. We have to be cautious.”

“The worldview has altered drastically,” the President admitted, settling himself down behind his desk. “I’m no longer secure in the belief that America is the force that it once was. Foreign unrest has grown exponentially. Hell, even internal unrest has grown to the point where citizens are actively questioning the decisions that are made by my executive office. Something has to change.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” the other person inside the Oval Office interrupted, “this sounds like a political battle. Why do you need me? I’ve never been one to take an active role in policy.”

“Baby steps, my dear. One problem at a time.”

The guest took a sip from her coffee mug. She glanced down at the presidential seal in the carpet. Unlike most, she didn’t feel the slightest bit of intimidation. “And what specific problem are you referring to now, sir?”

“The metas,” the President responded. “I would have figured that obvious due to your position inside my administration. The number of active meta-humans continues to grow everyday. The threats that are posed by these individuals are getting progressively more dangerous. And the forces that we have defending us are not what they once were. Of course, I don’t have to tell you any of this, do I?”

“No, Mr. President,” the guest replied. “I am well aware of the situation with the Justice League. They are fractured and distracted. We can no longer depend on them to protect this world. There are several other meta-groups operating within the states, but none have the resources or impact that the League did.” She studied the President for a moment, seeing an all-knowing smile pass his lips. “I figure, taking all this information into account, that this meeting has been called to discuss a new meta-force being put into place to defend the world-”

“The world?” the President asked, rising to his feet once more. “Oh no, this little venture is going to be more…contained within the homefront. There are plenty of costumes running around. Let the foreign powers worry about themselves. I am only interested in the continued tradition of American excellence.”

“You think a lot of this country, sir.”

“I am the President. It doesn’t do well for a leader to be ashamed of his country now, does it?”

“No, I suppose not.” The guest finished off her coffee before voicing her next words. “This team that you are focused on, do you have any thoughts?”

The President shrugged. “I have a few ideas, but I’m leaving the bulk of the decision making in your hands, Madame Director. Consider this assignment the pinnacle of your responsibilities from this point on. I want to feel protected while I’m sitting in this house and the damn Secret Service just isn’t doing it for me.”

“Mr. President, I-”

“I trust completely in your judgment.”

“Yes, but I-”

“I trust completely in your judgment.”

The Director of Meta-Human Affairs closed her mouth, seeing no point to further questions. The gauntlet had just been laid out before her in a manner that left her very vulnerable to failure. That was not a good feeling. “Am I to assume, sir, that I have the full backing of this administration for any executive decisions that I make in regards to this project?”

“Under one condition.”

“What would that be, Mr. President?”

“For liability reasons, I don’t want any direct connection to exist between your team and the Oval Office,” the President said. “Technically, this meeting never even took place if you catch my drift. Other than that, feel free to grab the ball and run with it. I’m looking forward to seeing your final proposal.” The Commander-in-Chief motioned toward the door. “You are free to leave now, whenever you would like.”

“Yes, sir,” the Director replied. “Thank you, sir.”

The woman turned to leave. She only made it a few steps before the President of the United States interrupted her once again.

“Oh, and Madame Director, do try to have a little fun with this,” he told her.

She smiled brightly, taking the hint. “I serve at the pleasure of the president, sir.”

And with that, Amanda Waller went to work.

	America's Personal Meta-Team... “The Gauntlet of Harsh Tears”
Task force X #1 - August, Year Four	by Matt Hrubey

Six weeks ago...

The blinds were pulled closed, keeping the light out and shutting the darkness in. It was the way he preferred it. His operation was falling apart at the seams and all he wanted to do was sip at his whiskey in peace. He wouldn’t get his wish.

The door at his back opened, the square of light revealing the bottle of Black Velvet on the desk. There was a slight ‘tsk’ as an enormous figure stepped through the doorframe. Her voice was deep and condescending.

“Drinking already?” Amanda Waller asked. “It’s hardly two in the afternoon. But I’m sure you’re just getting an early start on the night. This bottle doesn’t have anything to do with Checkmate running out of funding, does it?”

The only response was a belch.

“It must sting to be seen as incompetent in the eyes of…well, everybody that has ever met you, but I assure you that a solution has just been laid out before you.”

The chair swung around lazily, illuminating a hunched over Sergeant Steel, an empty tumbler in his hand. He dropped it on the desk and looked at Waller, squinting as his pupils dilated against the new light. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m your saving grace, sergeant. You just don’t know it yet.”

“Get to the point, Waller. I have a half a bottle left to finish off and the day’s wasting away.”

“My boss has put me in a charge of quite a task. And I’m drafting you as my second-in-command.”

“You’re crazy, woman.”

“I have an entire federal government backing me up that says I’m not, Sergeant Steel,” Waller responded, taking a seat across the desk. “You’ve been a soldier for some years now. You’ve risen to the post of Checkmate’s Black King and now you have resources at your disposal that are invaluable.”

“Checkmate is nothing without funding.”

“Don’t worry about the funding, sergeant. Let ME worry about that.” Amanda leaned forward across the chest. “All your problems can be gone if you say ‘yes’ to my next question.”

“And what is that?”

“Will you let me create a new meta-team as an official off shoot of Checkmate?”

Steel burst out laughing. He swung his hand out, almost knocking over the bottle of Black Velvet. “Why? Checkmate is a sinking ship. What possible reason could you have that accounts for a desired active status in my organization?”

Amanda shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

“Uh-uh, woman, you aren’t playing that game. If you want to do something…anything that involves Checkmate, then you will tell me everything I need to know. I may be drunk but I’m not stupid. The government put you in charge of this project meaning they probably don’t want a connection to it…meaning I’m not buying your cookies, Girl Scout.”

“Checkmate will be compensated greatly. You will be able to turn this organization into the operation that you’ve always wanted it to be. All you have to do is say ‘yes.’”

Steel’s head lolled to the side as another wave of incoherence washed over him. This time, his wandering hand did knock over the whiskey bottle. Amanda made no move to catch it as the Black Velvet fell off the side of the desk. It crashed; shattering and snapping Steel awake once more.

He shook his head in a haphazard manner. “No way, Waller. You can take your offer and shove it.”

In response, Amanda tapped her chin. “See, I was afraid this might happen. However, I prepared a contingency plan.” She pulled a post-it note out of her pocket and smacked it down on the table, startling Steel. “I have something to show you. So why don’t you sober up, get a shower, and meet me at that location in an hour? I guarantee it will be worth your while.”

“Whatever,” Sergeant Steel responded, his head dropping back down to the table. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of my face.”

Amanda muttered to herself as she made her way out. “I heard that.”

He must have been crazy to go through with this. The taxicab, which smelled eerily of cottage cheese, carried Sergeant Steel from New York City to the countryside. Steel, still suffering the side effects of the early morning drinking, stared out the window, his forehead against the cool glass. He had long ago lost his sense of direction, having no idea where the cab was taking him. Steel had simply given the cabbie the address Waller had handed over and the driver was taking care of the rest.

Steel looked up when the car pulled off the road onto an asphalt runway. The Black King of Checkmate leaned forward in his chair, his eyes peering out through the cab’s windshield. The area was completely vacant except for a solitary airplane that looked about ready to take off. The taxi pulled alongside the plane and a black limousine that had its engines idling. Waller was standing next to the limousine, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her trench coat. Handing over an appropriate bundle of money, Steel got out of the cab and watched as it turned around and streaked away.

“I’m glad to see you found your way here,” Waller said. “The pilot is getting impatient.”

“What’s going on here?” Steel hooked his thumb in the airplane’s direction. “And what the hell is that?”

“It’s called an airplane, sergeant. I hope the massive amounts of alcohol didn’t kill too many brain cells.”

“We’re not starting this all over again,” Steel replied, his tone betraying the feelings of contempt he felt for the Director of Meta-Human Affairs. “I came here as a favor to you, Amanda, though I have no idea why. The least you could do is treat me with a little respect and tell me where the hell we’re going.”

“It’s a little town outside of D.C.,” Waller replied, a smirk on her face. “It’s my bargaining chip.”

“I can’t help but admit that I’m a bit intrigued.”

“Excellent.” Amanda motioned toward the plane. “The sooner we depart, the sooner our futures become a reality. It’s time to take step forward and grab our destinies by the balls.”

“That’s a great image wrapped up in a pathetic cliché.”

Waller chuckled as she boarded the airplane. “I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

The flight had been relatively brief, resulting in yet another obscure landing strip. A limousine was waiting to take Waller and Steel to the location only Waller knew about. The limousine looked strangely familiar. For a moment, Steel had half a notion to believe that the entire trip had been a façade and they hadn’t really gone anywhere. The car ride had been spent in silence, but all the while Waller sported an all-knowing smirk.

“What are you smiling at?” Steel finally asked, the stress vein in his forehead bulging. The question would be posed several times.

“You’ll see,” was all Amanda would say.

The limousine pulled off the road, this time stopping in front of spacious installation that looked out of place against the countryside. Steel looked upon it with wide eyes, this mind running through a short list of explanations for Waller bringing him to this place. The exterior of the installation was stainless steel and bulletproof glass. The compound appeared very modern in structure and landscaping.

“What is this place, Waller?”

“This,” Amanda began while motioning toward the installation, “could be the new headquarters of Checkmate assuming, of course, that you agree to my offer. I call it the Citadel. Let my new team have official status within Checkmate and your organization will be taken care of. This establishment goes down nearly a mile into the ground. You’ll be outfitted with all of the latest technology so that you’re job will be easier. The surrounding area is nearly empty so being discreet won’t be an issue. It’s a win-win situation, sergeant.”

“Let me get this straight,” Steel replied, “you’re offering all of this to me in exchange for a title that will mask the true source of your team’s existence. What is it that you’re planning on doing exactly?”

“Those decisions are not mine to make,” Waller said. “I was personally charged by the President of the United States to make this team a reality. I’m not going to…I can’t…fail. I need your help on this.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re just as desperate as I am. I never asked for any of this.”

Sergeant Steel stared down at the finely groomed grass. He ran a hand through his hair, weighing his options. The resources being offered by Waller would be a great asset to the continued survival of Checkmate, but was that survival worth dealing with the Devil personified? Waller had a reputation and she was representing Capitol Hill, a place of deceit and backstabbing. The problem, however, was that if Steel said ‘no,’ then he had nowhere to go. He had no family. He had no life outside of his work.

“I…agree to your terms, Amanda,” Steel said. A smile broke out on Waller’s face. “Now, do you have a name for this team of yours?”

“Of ours, sergeant,” Waller retorted. “And, yes, I’ve had a couple of ideas. I was thinking a little blast from the past.”

He tipped his head back, the liquor burning as it slid down his throat. He slammed the shot glass down on the bar, lifting his hand to call the bartender over. Another drink was laid down before him and was quickly thrown back. An involuntary shiver overtook his body as the bitter taste pulsed throughout his body.

“Nathaniel Christopher Adam,” a woman at his back said, “or are you going by Cameron Scott now, captain?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes catching Amanda’s visage out of the corner of his eye. Leaning forward, he hunched over the bar and shook his head. “Does it really matter, Waller? No one ever calls me by either of those names anymore.”

“Humor me.”

“Just call me Nate,” the man responded. Nate patted the seat at his side. “You obviously came down here with a purpose, Amanda. Have a seat. Take a load off.”

Amanda eyed the seat with a hint of obvious detest. “I think I’ll stand thank you. Hopefully this won’t take too long.”

Captain Atom shrugged, smiling awkwardly as another drink was put down in front of him. “Suit yourself.”

“You’ve been staying out of the public eye lately,” Waller said. “Are you trying to start a normal life?”

Nate regarded the question with hesitancy. A normal life was something that he had always wished he could possess, but gaining his powers had made that a near impossibility. “No, I just haven’t found anything worth promising myself to.”

“That’s about to change.”

“What are you talking about, Waller?”

“A once in a lifetime opportunity that will set you on easy street.”

Captain Atom dropped a couple of dollar bills onto the bar and rose to his feet. “I have money. That’s not an issue.”

“You don’t have funds like this. It’s a government gig. A six figure salary is one of the primary perks.”

Nate pulled on his jacket and made his way for the exit. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested.”

As the captain cut through the late night crowd, Waller was on his heels. “I’m creating a meta-team at the behest of the top executive official himself. I’ve been in extensive conversation with my second-in-command and we both agree that you are to be the leader of this team.”

Nate stopped in the middle of the street. “Me? Why me?”

“You have past military experience that will be invaluable to the missions that your team will be sent on.”

“And what exactly is this team’s mission parameters?”

“The team will do anything that I tell it to,” Waller responded, “and my orders come directly from the White House. We are at the executive branch’s direct beck and call.”

Nathaniel Adam threw his hands up. “Everything that you’ve told me is fantastic. But answer me one question. Why the hell would I want to be at the summons of a federal government?”

“There’s any number of reasons,” the Director of Meta-Human Affairs replied, “the least of which being the fact that you’re spending your night alone, getting drunk in a bar. This could be your opportunity to commit to something. Don’t overlook this prospect because of the higher-ups or our own past. All you have to do is follow your instructions and you’ll be living on easy street.”

“How can I pass up this chance?”

“To be honest, you can’t.”

There was a silence that pervaded the air. Nate wasn’t sure what to think of this whole situation. The liquor was playing at the edges of his mind, baffling his thoughts. The captain didn’t know whether it was the alcohol talking or the overall feeling of loneliness that he had been sensing for months. He didn’t say a word. Finally, Waller pulled a sealed envelope from his back pocket and handed it over to Nate. She smiled-

“Welcome, Captain Atom,” Amanda Waller said, “to the new Task Force X.”

Next Issue: Moving forward into the future, Task Force X gathers for the first time within the halls of the Citadel. Who made the cut? Why? Amanda Waller and Sergeant Steel have some explaining to do in TASK FORCE X #2-“The Gathering of Immoral Souls!”