The Citadel
The White Queen’s Office

There were times when Amanda Waller hated her job.  It wasn’t the responsibilities that being both the White Queen of Checkmate and the U.S. Director of Meta-Human Affairs required of her.  Amanda was good at her job.  Great at her job, in fact.

No, it was the people she associated with that drove her crazy.  The people with their superpowers, their superiority complexes, their delusions of grandeur, and their general stupidity.  The worst were the super-villains; the scum of the universe.  At one point, Waller had valued them as cannon fodder.  Because they would run off half-cocked on suicide missions, she begrudgingly dealt with their bullshit.  Now, however, they were becoming more trouble than they were worth.

Case in point: Doctor Polaris.

Amanda had used her political power and influence to get Emerson out of prison, a fact which, thanks to the nimrods of the Strong Arm of Humanity, was threatening to become public knowledge.  Emerson was powerful, but he was also certifiably crazy and far too needy.  Amanda had grown tired of babysitting him long ago.  Waller had given Emerson his freedom, financial stability, and a place to live, and the son of a bitch repaid her by going AWOL.

Waller stared at the small metallic device on her desk and frowned.  It was the incendiary device that had been placed in Emerson’s head as an insurance policy should he ever lose control.  Waller had retrieved the device from Deadshot upon the Suicide Squad’s return from Qatar.  Deadshot had informed Waller of Emerson’s unauthorized departure and then promptly extricated himself from Waller’s war path.

Waller’s office had been on the receiving end of her anger and frustration, evidenced by the shards of glass and other debris littering the floor.  The tantrum helped clear her mind and Waller was now in troubleshooting mode.  Emerson was not the only problem she faced, but was rather another loose end on the pile that needed to be tied up.

And by God she was going to solve these problems.  Being an efficient woman blessed with the skill of multitasking, Waller had already set multiple plans in motion.  Before she could act, however, there were still a few more chess pieces to move around the board.

A knock at the door of her office brought a smile to Amanda’s face.  “Come in,” she ordered.

A nervous face belonging to one of the worthless Pawns Steel insisted on employing peeked in from the hallway.  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, White Queen.”

Waller rolled her eyes.  “Less apologizing and more telling me that you’ve done what I asked.”

The Pawn timidly walked into the room and handed over a folded piece of paper.  “I found the addresses you were looking for.  I also spoke with the Brig and the prisoner has been moved to a more…private venue.”

“Did anybody ask questions?”

“I told them I was acting on your orders, ma’am,” the Pawn responded, his eyes to the ground.  “That kept the questioning down to the basics.”

Waller smiled.  “Excellent,” she said.  “Now get the hell out of my office.  I have work to do.”

The Pawn obeyed, scurrying away quickly like a rat.  The office door clicked closed in his wake.

Alone once more, Waller reached for her cell phone and dialed a number from memory.  When the Director of the Strong Arm of Humanity answered the call, Waller spoke quickly.  “Everything is almost in place.  Make sure your men are ready to act once contact is made and whatever you do, do not screw this up.  Remember, if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”


XXX

Black Canary America's Personal Meta-Team...


:Division of Checkmate

“Backlash”
Task Force X #17 - April, Year Six by Matt Hrubey


XXX

Somewhere over the Rocky Mountains
Checkmate Transport Pegasus

“Do we even know where we’re going?” Beatriz Da Costa, Fire, asked.  “I’m kind of confused as to why we’re running off to the other side of the country without a clue as to why.”

“Bea, I’m sure whatever mission we’re being sent on will be explained to us,” Dinah Lance, the Black Canary, responded.  She turned in her chair to face the emerald-haired beauty.  “What I’m concerned about is our lack of firepower.  Cheshire is gone and Doctor Polaris could be anywhere.  For all I know, we’re heading into a warzone.  If that’s the case, we may be seriously outgunned.”

An older man sitting beside the two women cleared his throat.  “That’s why I’m here, Dinah,” Pat Dugan said.  “I may not be on the active roster anymore, but maybe S.T.R.I.P.E. can shift the balance of power back in the team’s direction.  And Bea, to answer your question, Steel is planning on briefing us in route.  We’re racing against the clock, and there was no time for a formal briefing at the Citadel.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot’s voice interrupted from the cockpit, “we have an incoming transmission from Washington.  It’s the Black King.”

The remaining member of the Task Force X quartet, Captain Atom, rose from his chair and stood straight, his arms down at his side.  The action demonstrated his past as a military man, and showed the respect he held for the Black King of Checkmate.  “Patch the transmission through on the holo-screen, pilot,” Atom ordered.

A 3D image of Sergeant Steel appeared amidst the Task Force X members.  His arms were folded across his chest.  “Okay, everybody, listen up and listen good.  I only have enough time to say this once because you’re almost at your destination.  As most of you, at least those of you present at the time will recall, on a previous mission Cheshire managed to obtain information from the Strong Arm of Humanity’s Chicago regional headquarters.  After working with an independent contractor, the information was decrypted and we were provided with a list of meta-human targets.  Essentially, the Strong Arm’s hit list.”

There were nods around the passenger cabin of the transport.

“What you are all not aware of is that I have had each and every person on that hit list under constant Checkmate supervision since their names were brought to my attention,” Steel continued.  “Whenever these people were at home, or at work, or at the grocery store, they were being trailed by a Pawn.  I have been waiting patiently for the Strong Arm of Humanity to make its move.  It seems that has finally happened.  Several Pawns have reported their targets coming under fire, but when pressed for further information, the Pawns…disappeared.”

“Disappeared, sir?” Captain Atom asked.  “Do you mean…?”

“Dead, Nate,” Steel answered.  “Each Pawn is outfitted with a GPS tracking device prior to being sent out in the field.  In each case when we lost contact with a Pawn, we followed their GPS signal to their location.  Every time, we found them dead.  The popular theory is that they tried to take on the Strong Arm of Humanity by themselves and paid the ultimate price for their bravery.”

“And we know for sure it’s the Strong Arm of Humanity?” the Black Canary asked.

“Technically, no,” Steel responded, “but it’s the most logical conclusion.  We have lost half a dozen Pawns in the last month, each following an individual on the Strong Arm’s hit list.  It’s too coincidental for it to be someone other than the Strong Arm of Humanity.”

“Why are we just now dealing with this situation?” the Black Canary asked.  “If six Checkmate agents have already died, this shouldn’t be the first we’re hearing about it.  What makes now different from a week ago?”

“A week ago, Lance, we didn’t have an active agent following the Strong Arm members back to their headquarters,” Steel replied, the eyes of each Task Force X member widening in response to Steel’s statement.  “We received an urgent message from Pawn 113 in Las Vegas that he and his target had been attacked.  We lost contact with Pawn 113, but Pawn 54 was also operating in Las Vegas at the time.  Pawn 54 managed to pick up the trail of the Strong Arm of Humanity as they headed out of the city.  About ten minutes ago, Pawn 54’s GPS signal stopped out in the desert.  Satellite imaging shows a facility a few hundred yards from Pawn 54’s present location.  That’s your target.”

“Mission parameters?” the Black Canary, the team’s field leader, asked.

“Break in and take them out,” Steel answered.  “The Strong Arm of Humanity has been a pain in my ass for far too long.  We have plenty of questions and no answers.  That changes tonight.  This is war, ladies and gentlemen.  The Strong Arm of Humanity is a terrorist organization hell bent on killing each and every meta-human they find.  Act swiftly and with extreme force.  Good luck.  Steel out.”

The Citadel
The Brig

Adjacent to the cells of the Brig stand several closet sized rooms, which Checkmate had adopted as interrogation rooms.  The rooms were basic with white tiled floors and white painted walls.  Each room was completed by a simple steel desk, two uncomfortable steel chairs, and an overhanging lamp that lit up every corner of the room.

At this time of the day, only one of the interrogation rooms was occupied.  Seated, and handcuffed to her chair, was Frances Kane, the Flash’s Rogue called Magenta.  She had unwittingly occupied a cell in the Citadel since her capture several months prior in Russia.  During the course of her stay, however, she had developed a fondness for Doctor Polaris, whose similar powers made them a perfect match in her head.

While she daydreamed about her knight in shining armor, the door to the room opened and Amanda Waller entered.  She closed the door in her wake to ensure the pair’s privacy, and then turned back to Magenta.  “I’m going to cut right to the chase, Ms. Kane,” Waller began.  “There are several power dampeners within this room so your powers won’t work.  And even if your powers did work, I had you doped up enough that you would find it impossible to concentrate to even activate them.”

Magenta’s head rolled to the side, lazily.  “What do you want from me?”

“I’m here to make you a proposition.”

“Sorry, lady,” Magenta replied with a smile and an annoyingly high-pitched chuckle.  “I don’t swing that way.”

Waller rolled her eyes.  “As I was saying,” she continued, choosing to ignore Magenta’s comment.  “I have a deal for you.”

Magenta said nothing.  Waller figured the woman had become intrigued so she continued.

“I need you to find someone for me,” Waller explained.  Magenta looked into her eyes, her eyebrows slightly raised.  Yes, she was definitely intrigued.  Answering the unspoken question, Waller revealed the identity of the person she needed help finding.  “Neal Emerson.”

Magenta’s face suddenly took on a very concerned expression.  She leaned forward in her chair and Waller could have sworn she saw Magenta’s eyes begin to tear up.  “Doctor Polaris?  What’s wrong with him?  Is he okay?”

A raised hand silenced Magenta.  Waller thought for a moment and a smirk crossed her features.  “What are you talking about?” Waller asked; a single eyebrow rose.  “He didn’t tell you he was leaving?”

“Leaving?  Where did he go?”

Waller shrugged.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “The good doctor did a small favor for me and then he inexplicably ran away.  Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?  I thought the two of you were becoming close.  He had originally asked for your release as a condition for the favor he did me.  I don’t know why he wouldn’t return to make sure I held true to my word.”

A shit-eating grin appeared on Magenta’s face.  “I knew it!  I knew he loved me!”

Waller scratched her chin.  “But then why would he leave you imprisoned?  Maybe he’s having second thoughts about you?”

Magenta suddenly thrashed in her chair like a madwoman.  “Never!  He loves me!”

“Then there’s really only one thing left to do, Ms. Kane.”

Magenta stared at Waller, the desire for Amanda to elaborate palpable on her face.  “What is it?”

“You have to find him, not for me, but for yourself,” Waller explained.  “Find him and find out the truth.  Did he really love you?  Or was he leading you on?  Is he afraid of your love?  Is he afraid to love you back?  If you want to know why he left, you have to ask him yourself…in person.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Magenta asked. 

Waller frowned.  “Isn’t there a way that you could use your mutual abilities to find him?”

Magenta waved off Waller’s comment.  “Oh, I can find him.  Rather easy probably.  That’s not the problem though.”

“And what pray tell is the problem, Ms. Kane?” Waller asked.

“I’m a prisoner.  Your prisoner, in fact.”

Waller winked.  “You leave that to me.”

Strong Arm of Humanity Regional Outpost
The Mojave Desert
Outside Las Vegas, Nevada

All hell broke loose in the blink of an eye.  Inside the Strong Arm facility, it was business as usual.  Plans of genocide were being made, and steps were being taken toward their implementation.  When one of the facility’s exterior walls crumbled in a fantastic display of fire and debris, however, operations halted and the screaming began.  Being that most Strong Arm members had no formal self-defense training to speak of, the natural response was to run away and hide.  Those that remained calm under pressure, however, grabbed whatever weapons they could find and moved toward the source of the intrusion.

They wouldn’t last long.

Three streams of energy—emerald flames, plasma bursts, and repulsor rays—worked together as if of one mind.  They cut through the ranks of Strong Arm members who failed to take proper cover behind the fallen debris littering the spacious loading dock.  The attack was strong enough to incapacitate, but not obliterate.  Bones audibly broke, but no lives were taken.  The onslaught continued for several minutes, but when it stopped, the loading dock became eerily silent.

Heads poked up from behind slabs of concrete and metal.  Eyes scanned the area; searching through dust clouds for those that had chosen to attack in the middle of the night.  There were no further attacks, which prompted Strong Arm members to rise to their feet and move cautiously toward the hole in the wall.

“Weapons loaded!” someone in the crowd yelled.  It was an unnecessary gesture.  Each and every weapon in the loading dock was already cocked, locked, and ready to unload fatal fury.

Just as fast as the initial attack occurred, the secondary attack began.  The Strong Arm members were continuing to push forward when they were overcome by the harshest sound they had ever heard.  The sound, a feminine scream, caused the would-be terrorists to fall to their knees, blood pouring from noses and ears.  Several began to scream themselves, but the sounds of their voices had no hope of being heard.

It was then that the attackers appeared.  First through the hole and the dust cloud was a beautiful, blonde woman.  It was clear that she was responsible for the screaming attack.  One kneeling man, his right hand pressed against his ear and his left hand on his gun, raised the weapon.  He swayed as he tried to line up the shot.  Just before he could shoot, however, the repulsor rays returned and slammed into his chest.  When the man regained conscious an hour later, he would find several of his ribs broken.

The owner of the repulsor ray technology, a man in a suit of armor, appeared next.  The armor possessed a red, white, and blue theme, but then considering the man’s history of crime fighting it wasn’t surprising.  Behind him entered a man whose skin was silver from head to toe and a woman that was on fire.  The fire burned a beautiful shade of green.

When the screaming mercilessly stopped, the quartet surged forward as one.

“Nice one, Dinah,” Fire said as she flew over the head of the Black Canary.

“Alright, team, we’re going to divide and conquer,” the Canary responded as she leapt over the fallen body of a Strong Arm member.  She motioned behind her toward S.T.R.I.P.E., who was shooting off containers of tear gas at the Strong Arm members trying to escape the loading dock.  “Pat is with me.  We’re going after the facility’s control room.  Sarge would be pissed if I didn’t bring him back a present.  Bea, Nate, you’re the cleanup crew.”

Fire and Captain Atom each nodded respectively and flew off.  The Black Canary took off into a sprint, clotheslining a butch woman who hadn’t seen her coming.  Dinah didn’t stop to make sure the woman would stay down.  Instead she ran off once more toward what she suspected was the center of the building.  At this point she was running on pure instinct and no actual directions.  Fortunately her instincts had done her right in the past.

As the Black Canary ran further into the building, Dugan at her rear, she noticed that less and less people were moving through the corridors.  “Where is everyone?  This is almost too easy,” she said.

{{Keep in mind most Strong Arm members are bitter people with a vendetta against meta-humans.  They have no more combat experience than the Average Joe.  They’re smart enough to realize that if they get in our faces, we’ll put them down.}}

Dinah shook her head as she turned a corner.  “If they were smart, Pat, they wouldn’t have joined the Strong Arm of Humanity in the first place.  They let their anger and hatred drive them to murder.”

They continued through the building silently until S.T.R.I.P.E. shouted, {{Stop!}}

The Black Canary slid to a stop.  “What?”

{{I’ve been scanning the area for Wi-Fi and radio waves to track back to their source.  The waves are everywhere in this complex and the central hub of the waves is on the other side of this door,}} Dugan said, pointing an armored finger at a door to his right.

The Black Canary smirked.  “It’s about time.”  She walked up to the door and, without missing a beat, kicked the door so hard it shattered and broke from its hinges.  The door remains hit the floor and the sound reverberated through the hallway.  S.T.R.I.P.E., much less susceptible to harm from a sneak attack, stepped through the doorway first.

Gauntlet out and ready to fire at a moment’s notice, S.T.R.I.P.E. swept the room.  The lone occupant of the room, a slim woman with graying hair, was trying futilely to hide behind her desk.  The Black Canary stepped out from behind Dugan and made a beeline for the Strong Arm member.  The woman’s body visibly shook as Dinah reached her crouched position and hoisted her up by her hair.

The woman screamed loudly, which prompted Dinah to slap her across the face.  The woman’s screaming stopped and she stared straight at Dinah, tears in her eyes.  “Please don’t hurt me,” the woman said weakly.

“What is your name?” the Black Canary asked.

“N-Nora.”

“What is your official position title?”

Nora hesitated.  She appeared ready to speak, but kept her mouth shut.  Dinah, her hand still weaved through Nora’s hair, yanked hard.  Nora winced, but then said, “D-Deputy West Coast Director.”

Glancing for a moment at Dugan, Dinah stared then at Nora.  “So you’re pretty high up on the food chain.”  It was a statement, not a question, yet Nora answered with a nod.

The Black Canary turned once more to Dugan.  “Pat, wipe her computer clean.  They didn’t know we were coming so you shouldn’t run into much resistance.  I’m going to take Nora here back to the Blackhawk.”  She looked at Nora.  “Have you ever been to Washington, D.C., Nora?”

The woman’s eyes grew even larger, betraying the numbing fear she felt.  Dinah let go of her hair, grabbing her arm instead.  Dinah pulled the woman through the broken doorway.

“For your sake,” the Black Canary said, dragging Nora along each step, “you should have run away with the rest of your people.”

New York City,
New York

Lian Harper hated when her daddy wasn’t home to tuck her in at night.  She couldn’t really be mad at him though.  He was saving people.  He was a hero!  Just like Uncle Dick and Uncle Ollie.  He was the best daddy ever.  She just wished he was around more.

The babysitter, Carlie, leaned over Lian and smoothed down the edges of the down comforter.  She placed Lian’s teddy bear next to her; nuzzling the bear’s head against Lian’s chin.  “Goodnight, Lian,” Carlie said before flipping out the light and closing the door.

Lian exhaled a deep breath and felt her body become heavy.  A tune was playing in her head, lulling her to sleep, when she heard a loud crash from the living room.  Lian sat up, her eyebrows raised.  “Carlie?”

When the sound of a female scream ripped through the apartment, Lian jumped from her bed to the floor.  Her daddy had told her to hide if something like this happened.  Lian looked back and forth for the right place to hide.  Before she could decide where was best to hide, however, Lian’s door broke open.

The next thing Lian saw was the light beam of a flashlight.  It enveloped her; blinding her eyes.

That was the last thing Lian Harper saw before the black cloth bag was forced down over her head.  She felt arms grab her around the waist and lift her from her feet.  She tried to struggle, but the strength holding her was crushing.  All Lian could do was scream.

“Daddy!”

Two Hours Later

When Roy Harper returned home from his patrol, he expected to find Carlie the babysitter on his couch, watching television quietly as usual.  Instead, when he entered his apartment and found Carlie dead, dried blood caked around a gunshot wound to her forehead, he went into action.

“Lian!” he shouted, extracting his bow from the harness on his back.  He notched an arrow and entered Lian’s bedroom.  Roy’s heart raced as he scanned the interior of the room.  He knew immediately she wouldn’t be here, but Roy shouted her name once more anyway.  “Lian!”

That’s when he spotted it.  It was a handwritten note, written on a small white card the size of a business card.  It read:
Cheshire-

For what you’ve done

Roy had no idea what the note referred to, but he now knew two things.  First, Lian was gone; kidnapped by unknown assailants.  Second, somehow and someway Jade was involved.

Arsenal screamed until his voice went hoarse.

XXX


NEXT ISSUE:  Lian has been kidnapped and the search is on to get her back!  Who did it?  Why?  Plus, Magenta begins her search for Doctor Polaris and Task Force X finally gets some of its answers!

Story © 2010 Matt Hrubey and may not be reproduced without permission.