This is just a short of a dream I had the other night. Don't intend to expand upon it; just figured it'd fit here.
Also, should go without saying, but I don't own Suicide Squad.
The rooms are dark and the walls are cold. I'm shoved into a tiny little room with a bench, a light and no windows. The door slams behind me and locks.
"When you're done changing, bang three times on the door, then turn and face the wall with your hands behind your back!" the guard outside orders.
I nod quietly. He means I have to change into prison robes. I've told them several times that they won't last long, but apparently guards are too stupid to listen to me. I do as I'm told:
I slip off my jumpsuit and pull on the white tank top and shorts. Then I pick up the garish, bright orange prison jumpsuit and slip that over my skinny frame. I look at my hands and consider... do I wear my gloves or do they want my hands bare? Will they let me keep on the mask I'm wearing still?
I figure it's a risk worth taking and, soon as I zip up the prison suit, bang thrice on the door, turn and face the wall with my hands behind my back. The light flickers a few times, almost plunging me into blackness.
The door opens and then slams shut again. "Mask off and gloves off!" the guard orders.
I just turn and look at the door and then turn back to the wall. They'll just have to take me the way I am if they don't want me to lose control again. And I have lost control several times today because of things they've done towards me.
I brace myself as a baton smashes into my back, then my thigh, then my head. My head and body stings with the blows. Something electric plunges into my throat, nearly causing me to pass out. But I still keep quiet. They're not making me talk. Then, as the baton comes towards my face again, I feel the handcuffs break behind me. And I lose control.
I grab the baton and bash his knees. He falls to the ground. I bash his hands away from his face. Then I bash his face into a bloody pulp. The other guards quickly back away, blood splatter on their clothes and on mine.
I've got control over them now.
Reluctantly (and probably with their better judgment) the guards come back in and cuff me. They've realized by now how dangerous I can be, so they might as well attempt to keep me happy.
We exit the room and start walking down a long corridor. I know exactly where we're going: the cells. They're all close together save for those of the metahumans, those dangerous beings that have power unlike anybody else I've ever met. I know their names.
Joker, the Clown Prince of Crime. Harley Quinn, his beloved queen. Deadshot, with an aim that nobody can beat or top, much as they want to try. Icicle, who can turn whatever he wants into ice. Lex Luthor, with a brain practically the size of Einstein. These are who I know myself. Their names are everywhere around my city.
As we round the corner the lights flicker again. I see cells on either side of me, and as we walk down through the hallway, the inmates in those cells look up and see me walking by with guards.
"Who's the newbie?" one of them shouts, curious.
"Not sure," the guard replies. "Hasn't even told us his name."
He's got a point there. I haven't spoken a word since my arrest. It's my right to remain silent, and I intend to use it.
We march down the hall a little further, and then we stop in front of an empty cell. I notice a heavily locked manhole next to it.
Sweet. I'm right next to Waylon Jones.
"You see that right there?" the guard points with his gun towards the manhole. When he sees me nod slowly, he goes on, "That's Croc's cell. Killer Croc, as everybody knows him. Goes right into an old sewer. You open that to try to escape, and he'll eat you."
As if I was going to try to escape through the sewer.
The guards shove me into my cell and slam the door shut. "Now you stay there, and you don't cause any trouble," the bigger guard warns me. "You do something stupid, and you're Croc's next meal."
A low, terrible growl escapes from my throat. I'd kill Waylon Jones first, you punks.
The guards back off, nervous at that.
I sit there on the bed and reflect on how I got here.
I'd been walking down a street late at night, thinking about life, thinking about how else to hide the monster that I was, when I was hit from behind. I fell to the ground and glanced back to see someone who looked just like me coming directly towards me, a whole bunch of gear on his waist, and some sort of bizarre-looking boomerang in his hand. I get to my feet, only to get slugged directly in the jaw.
"About time I found you," the costumed person grunted. I could see his face clearly now, see the outlines of bats all over him. I figured as much. I figured as much that it'd be him who came after me.
"So where's the money from the robbery, clone?"
He got the wrong person. I was literally just walking down a street. I'd never committed robbery.
"Don't be silent, for pete's sake, talk!"
He went to grab my jaw, and this time I lost all control. I started wailing on him, punching him, kicking him. My mask slid back from around my jaw and I started biting him as well.
Then I felt something electric jam into my torso and I hit the ground hard, but I didn't react otherwise.
Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by policemen with heavy powered rifles, being ordered to put my hands up. I overheard them talking about where I was going for injuring "the Bat". Belle Reve.
A maximum security prison. For defending myself.
Shove the f**k off.
I don't say anything. I hear the inmates trying to get my attention, but I'm not listening to them. I'm in my own little world, conversing with the beast I'm hiding. Yeah, no, I'm not losing control now. Not unless they make me.
Then, unexpectedly, a door clangs open. I hear lots of inmates mutter "Oh no" and "Uh oh" and look up to see them slowly backing up towards the wall. One of them looks at me and says, "You might want to hide, homie. These guys aren't friendly."
I wonder who "these guys" are.
I find out seconds later.
A couple of nasty-looking guards come walking down the hall. They stop in front of my cell and decide to unlock the door. As I hear the cell door clink back, I notice they are all holding batons and not rifles, not electric guns or whatever they're called. Batons.
"So this is our new guy, is it?" one of the guards says.
"Yeah," another says. "Bloke hasn't even told us his name."
"Let's see if we can beat it out of him."
Firstly, I'm a her, not a he. I don't even know why you're all thinking I'm a he. Shove off.
As they walk into the cell and close the door behind them, I slowly stand up.
"Okay, newbie, here's the deal," the same guard says. "You got two choices. You can tell us your name, or we can beat it out of you. Which one's it gonna be?"
I don't answer. Already I can feel the beast within me rising. He's angry as angry can get, and he's ready for a fight.
I think I'll let him out.
"Okay, newbie. Looks like we're gonna have to beat your name out of you." The guards all raise their batons and advance.
My mask slips back to unveil my mouth, barred with dangerously sharp teeth. And I lose control.
The cell's covered in blood by the time I'm done