DC Reboot Pitches: Justice League vs. the Suicide Squad

The Deal: this is the ninth in a series of pitches for the rebooted DC Movies, and the end of Phase One. I’m leaning on AI art to mock-up these pitches, because it adds a layer of humor and weirdness.

The Pitch

Our story begins en media res. The screen is black, and we hear, heavy, human breathing, the sounds of someone running in the rain, and narration, as black boots go crashing through puddles before cutting back to black. “People believe I’m arrogant. That I believe I belong standing shoulder to shoulder with Gods.” It’s Batman speaking, which becomes clear when we see Metallo, just his metal skeleton, the glowing kryptonite powering it exposed, strolling out of the burning wreckage of the Batmobile.

“His car is gone,” Metallo says.

Black Manta floats out of the water. “His sub is gone.” A burning boat floats on the top of the water behind him.

“And I killed his drone,” Cheetah says, watching through a scope as a bat-shaped drone falls from the sky. Her rifle is actually a long-distance taser, single-use, because Flag doesn’t trust her with a firearm.

Batman is running, turns and throws three batarangs, each colliding with one of Boomerang’s boomerangs before continuing to run. “He’s still on the move,” Boomerang says.

“It isn’t about where I belong, it’s that someone has to stand up.” Batman stops, and allows Joker to strafe his cape with a tommy gun to protect a ‘child’ in the middle of the alley. “And in Gotham, not many do.” Batman rises to his full height. The ‘child,’ it turns out, is just a doll stuffed with C4, and Batman has to resume running, rather than confront Joker, as it explodes behind him.

“I told you Amanda,” Joker taunts over their radios in a sing-song.

“You keep these comms clear, or I’ll blow that bomb in your neck just to get your voice out of my head,” Waller barks.

“She’s going to be disappointed when she finds out it’ll take more than that,” Harley says. “Like electroshock. But I wouldn’t rule out a lobotomy.”

“Quinn,” Flag says, and she drops into a side street, keeping Batman going down the alley. But he slices left, and hops a fence on the opposite side of the alley, just over the boards and under a sheet of industrial metal siding. “Damnit,” Flag says, catching up with Quinn. “Are we funneling him, or is he funneling us?” She leaps through the same hole.

“Just keep to the plan, Flag,” Waller says, watching events from a monitoring room through a series of drones and satellites.

Batman gets into the open, and fires his grapnel to the top of an apartment building. Harley and Flag are just behind him, climbing up a fire escape.

“No way,” Harley says, stopping just outside a rooftop door. “I seen Mr. J make this mistake too many times. Never follow the bat into a cave.”

“It’s an apartment building,” Flag says.

“And it was a metaphor. There’s no place he’s more dangerous than when you think he’s trapped.”

“Quinn, there’s two buses out of here, and one goes to the cemetery.”

“Ooh, field trip!” she squeals happily. “I love the cemetery.”

“Just get in there,” Flag shoves Harley through the open door, into darkness.

“Aw, nuts,” she says from inside, before being kicked back out, over the edge of the building. In the same moment, a batarang, carrying a wire, loops around her feet, so she doesn’t go far, and swings down and hits her head against the side of the building. “I feel like I should remember whether you can get a double-concussion,” Quinn says, before passing out.

“I’m going to need backup,” Flag says into his comms.

“This suit was designed for deep sea submersion; it doesn’t fly,” Manta tells him from the street.

“And Luthor didn’t give me rocket boots,” Metallo snipes, running up beside Manta.

“Fine,” Flag says, “Team Full of Density and Excuses, start on the bottom floor. We’ll sweep from the top. You flush him, holler.”

“I’m with you,” Cheetah says, landing in a catlike sprawl after climbing the exterior of the building. “Though I still say I’d be more effective if you let me have a sidearm.”

“He eats mercs for breakfast.”

“I’m here as well,” says the White Martian, “and he doesn’t have to be a telepath to know you’d use the gun on him at the first opportunity.”

Cheetah sticks her tongue out at the Martian. Flag leads the way inside the building. “It’s quiet,” Flag says.

“Too quiet?” Cheetah asks with an edge to it.

“He’s correct,” the Martian says. “The building is empty. In fact, I don’t even see-” liquid dribbles from the ceiling, onto the Martian, and an instant later the liquid ignites as Batman drops down on him, kicking him out of the door and back onto the roof.

Batman takes on Flag and Cheetah hand to hand; they’re both military-trained, so their styles mesh well, for a moment, until Batman compensates. He knocks the wind out of Cheetah, then smashes Flag face-first into a door-jam; Flag does manage to get a shot off, and it pancakes against the back of Batman’s cowl.

Cheetah gets up, slowly, having taken a knife Flag dropped in the fight. Instead, Batman hands her his cape, and points outside, at the screaming Martian. “He’s coated in a napalm derivative; smother the fire, deprive it of oxygen for a few minutes, and it will go out.”

She pauses, and calls in to Waller. “Orders?”

“Damnit,” Waller mutters. “Stand down. Aid the Martian asset.”

She drops the knife, and takes the cape.

Batman only gets a few steps in before Black Manta collapses a wall on his left while Metallo collapses a walls on his right. One goes high, the other low, and Batman is able to leap down the middle, and they clang together, loudly. “Ah,” Manta says. “Clearly I need better sound-dampening.”

“Or a smaller head,” Metallo says. Both give chase. At the end of the hallway, Boomerang turns out of a door. He flings four boomerangs; Batman does, too. Three of the batarangs knock the boomerangs out of the air; the fourth smacks Boomerang in the head, so that he’s falling as Batman runs past. Boomerang’s last projectile detonates as it flies past Metallo and Black Manta, knocking them into Boomerang. As he rounds the end of the hall and into a stairwell Batman slaps an oval slab of plastique with a bat-symbol detonator in the center onto the wall. It detonates as he leaps down the stairwell, catching Boomerang, Manta and Metallo in a pressure wave and sending them flying in the opposite direction from the initial explosion.

The stairwell collapses behind Batman. “I really did tell her,” an eerie voice echoes, through the stairwell, “but no one listens to the jester.” Joker leaps from the shadows and slashes Batman with a knife, managing to cut him, though superficially- mostly because Batman slipped out of his cowl, leaving Joker holding it as he notices a rope hanging over the edge of the stairs. He cuts it, and cranes his neck, holding his hand to his ear, hoping for a thud, but instead hears a door open, and shut. Joker crosses his arms and harumphs, then starts to put the cowl on himself, though we cut away before it’s clear what’s happening.

We see Batman from behind, without his cowl or cape, through a rifle scope. “I’ve got your target in my sights. Advise.”

“I want him identifiable. We have to be able to put a face to this. Give me a realistic assessment of whether you can give me that.”

Batman leaps over and onto a motorcycle, and very swiftly speeds away. At this distance, with Batman moving quickly, armored save for his head, it would be a shot in the dark, at best. “No shot,” the sniper says, and lowers the rifle. Those who saw Cyborg will recognize the voice as belonging to Deathstroke, but shh…

Flag comes to to someone in a Batman cowl slapping him across the face, then in his best Bale Batman voice howling, “Who do you work for?” Flag yelps, and draws, trying to fire an empty gun into the Joker’s chin as he scrabbles to get out from under him.

“See?” Harley says, handing Flag back his magazine and bullet, “funnier with an empty gun.”

“It’s barely a joke if no one lands in the hospital,” Joker pouts from under the cowl.

“I’ve got a broken rib, if that tickles your funny bone,” Cheetah says.

“Me-ow,” Joker says.

“Can the Martian pick him back up?” Waller asks over comms.

“The Martian’s currently extra-crispy,” Cheetah says. He’s mostly off-screen, but we can see a charred limb raised out of Batman’s cape, and hear him moaning.

“Fall back,” Waller says. “We’ll regroup.” She throws her headset across the room.

We cut to black, and show white text: One hour earlier.

Joker is wrapped in a cape from a Phantom of the Opera Halloween costume and leaps over the end of a table, singing “Kill the bat!”, ending what was clearly an energetic song and dance number, most likely to the tune of “Kill the Beast” from Beauty and the Beast. “Come on,” Joker says, “it’s worth whatever we have to pay Disney.” Harley leans into him and whispers in his ear. “They wanted that much? And they call me a villain?” He cackles uproariously, before adding. “I’m joking– we’re both monsters.”

Flag drags Joker off the table by the cape. “Let me just say, this team was designed in the hopes of overwhelming a demonstrably superior force with intel from previous encounters. But you two are the only pair with largely duplicative knowledge.”

“Then why are we both here?” Harley asks.

“Both your psych profiles indicate an unwillingness to play well with others. And since we happened to sweep you both up on the same night, Waller let me have a spare, in case one of you goes boom.” He pantomimes the bomb at the base of their skull exploding.

“Not it,” Harley says, putting a finger to her nose.

Waller clears her throat. “Captain,” she says, before leading Flag away. “Any luck with the alien, Flag?”

“This time it only took 10,000 volts to get him to stop trying to eat my men’s hearts… but I don’t think he’s giving up the goods.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to get buy-in. We just have to get him in the room with the right one of these do-gooders, and his anger will take care of the rest.”

“What about the Bat?”

“If we need the big guns to take down an industrialist with too much man-pain, you need to find another line of work.”

Batman is driving his, at this point still functional, Batmobile through Gotham. The interior lights turn red, right before Alfred calls over the radio. “Sir, sensors show you’re being shadowed by multiple aerial drones, as well as an armored personnel carrier.”

“Insignia?” Batman asks, taking a turn sharply.

“No known government markings, sir.”

“I’m diverting to site 21.”

“Would you like assistance?”

“At this stage, I’m not willing to risk anyone else.”

“Very good, sir. Happy hunting.”

Lights go from a low red to bright red, with alarms blaring loudly as Metallo leaps from a building down towards the car. In slow motion, we see Batman’s ejector seat send him hurtling just out of the reach of Metallo’s clawed fingers as his feet crumple the Batmobile’s cockpit. The ejector seat fires a small rocket burst before loosing a parachute. Almost immediately, the parachute’s wires are cut by several boomerangs, and Batman bounds off of a nearby wall, kicking free as the chair explodes. He’s able to use the cape to slow his descent enough for him to land, albeit roughly, in a roll. Batman touches his belt to cue his comms. “It was an ambush. Send a drone and the submersible to my location.”

“The bike?”

“Set it to circle the site. I might need a quick egress.”

And we’re now caught up to the beginning, matching one of the shots of his boots running, then, where that shot cuts to black, we stay at black, and put up white text: Now.

We go back to the Task Force X HQ. Waller, trying to save face, pivots, saying Batman is maybe the most dangerous of them, that he’s managed to survive on grit and wit, that they need to take out his potential allies to keep him exposed and vulnerable. Joker actually confronts Waller- accusing her of letting Batman go in the hopes of drawing in all these other players, and their weaponizable tech- Martian, Kryptonian, Amazonian, Atlantean, etc.. Waller won’t confirm or deny, but it’s clear there’s some truth to it- that him figuring that out almost gives her a grudging respect for him. He storms off, seemingly in a reasonably normal huff, stating he agreed to kill the Bat, not this suicide mission. Flag tells two of his operatives to follow Joker. He loses contact with them thirty seconds later. Waller triggers Joker’s bomb, and the guard nearest Waller’s head explodes. “Shirt,” she demands of Flag, and he strips it off. She uses it to wipe her guard’s blood off her face. “I told you the clown was too dangerous.”

“And I told you your security was sloppy,” Flag says, sliding the shirt back on. They each think Flag continuing to wear the shirt is a middle finger to the other, proof of the other’s screw-up.

“Uh,” Harley points out the cowl Joker left behind is playing a message on repeat- the same message he’s sent to the rest of the Justice League.

The message continues, as we show a montage, proving that Batman has secreted beacons in each of the League member’s homes, that activate, first showing a holographic bat signal, then playing his message. “These aren’t the circumstances I was hoping to contact you in. In fact, I was hoping I’d never need to. I was content to confine my activities to Gotham, and leave you to your own. That option’s off the table. A rogue government operative has assembled a team of our foes. Tonight they’re hunting me, and I have no doubt, they’ll hunt all of you, next. Divided, we’re easy prey. Together… we might stand a chance. I’ve cleared out the old Gotham Penitentiary. I was going to use it as a training facility, but I also realized a time might come when I needed a hardened site for an assault, isolated enough to prevent civilian casualties. Meet me there. And be careful. Waller has resources and cunning.”

We’re back with Waller and Flag at her HQ. He asks to see her without the guards. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Amanda. If you really wanted a military team, you’d have gone with the team I suggested. Or at least let me put these clowns through boot. This is barely a step up from that Central City amateur hour.”

“If there’s anything you need to know, I’ll let you know it.”

“You don’t get to pull that chain of command crap with me. I don’t work for you- that’s our deal.”

She smiles. “I know. But you’re fun when you’re angry.” She pours herself a drink, and doesn’t offer him one. “I did ask. The answer was ‘no’ on both fronts. Eiling. Never said a word to me, but he’s the only one in a position to make a case against us. Fear was we’d be creating better, more disciplined criminals; best-case scenario, we’d be replacing slap-dash heroes with trained ones- who would be that much harder to depose if they ever went rogue, and already have a history of doing just that.”

“And that’s why you let us screw up with the Bat.”

“Oh, he’s good. And I did not put my thumb on the scale. But I also didn’t go all in on that mission, either.”

“Because if we can’t take this ‘Justice League’ without training our operators, maybe they’ll let us do that.”

“Or even give us clearance to start recruiting ex-military, like Deathstroke and Deadshot.”

“Didn’t know Deadshot-”

“Yeah, he was one of ours. Second-most decorated sniper in history. Until we found out he was taking private contracts on the side- and wasn’t picky about whose side they were on. We wiped his identity, and there’s been a Presidential kill order for him ever since. I imagine he’d be willing to do some work for us, to have that rescinded.”

“Deathstroke, though… he doesn’t come cheap.”

“I didn’t say anything about hiring him.”

“I don’t think he’s broken any laws.”

“Mercs always break laws. And even if he was so clean he squeaked, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“This is why I don’t work for you.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll find a way to make you.”

He ignores the threat. “So either we win, you get your proof of concept and your green light, or we lose, and you get proof you need more funding and access to better trained operators. I hope I never have cause to be on your bad side.”

“Good luck, Captain,” she says, and raises the glass she never once drank from.

Batman arrives at the prison on his cycle wearing a new cape and cowl. He interacts with a screen in his gauntlet, checking that his security measures are working. “There’s still time to call in the family,” Alfred says over his radio. “Batgirl and Nightwing are less than three miles out.”

“No. These people are too dangerous, even if I had time to prep them.”

“And if your reinforcements don’t show? Master Bruce… you barely escaped your last encounter intact.”

“I’ve got a radar ping, Alfred. Keep the kids away from here. Keep them safe.”

“As you wish, sir. Godspeed.”

The wind blows past him, and then an invisible jet lands. Wonder Woman leaps out of the cockpit, and shakes Batman’s hand.

“I thought about inviting you to a charity fundraiser,” he tells her.

“I bet they’d pay millions just to see the two of us dance.”

“I meant out of costume.”

“I bet they’d pay double for that,” she says with a glint in her eye.

“She’s funny,” Flash is there an instant later. “I knew she’d be intimidating. But funny? I bet you had the Batman blushing.” Flash runs up to Bruce, only to realize he’s towering over him, and comedically lurching back. “Though I could be mistaken.”

“I’m glad you came,” Batman says before turning around.

“I had to,” we hear him before we see him, Superman flying majestically into their midst. “My mom would kill me if I refused a polite invitation from Batman. Unless I sent one of those little cards, but I can never remember the right etiquette for those. Easier just to show.”

Could she kill you?” Batman asks. “Does she have access to the right minerals?”

“Huh,” Superman says. “I can’t tell if you’re joking. I usually can. Microexpressions, heart-rate fluctuations, even tell-tale changes in cerebral blood-flow or neuronal activity.”

“He isn’t joking,” Martian Manhunter says. “He rarely does. Though he does remember how.”

“Stay out of my head,” Batman growls.

“You probably shouldn’t be ornery with the Martian,” Hal Jordan says, landing next to John. “He was the one who convinced me to trust you.”

“Oh yeah,” Flash says, as if the thought is only dawning on him now. “This could have been a trap.”

“No,” Aquaman says, rising out of the reservoir beneath the prison. “I don’t believe anyone else could have found us all.”

“I’m not so sure,” Batman says. “Victor, you might as well come out.”

For a moment we join Cyborg in the shadows. “You can totally do this. You’re a fricking Cyborg.” He walks out of the shadows.

“I was hoping he was with you,” Superman says with a smile. “I… heard the pep-talk you were giving yourself. I’m sure you’ll do fine, son.”

“Don’t say ‘son,’” he replies, largely doing a bit.

“Oh, sorry,” Superman says, genuinely taken aback. “I didn’t mean to imply a patriarchal imbalance; I know you’re younger because I can see your telomeres, but-”

“I just thought we were doing a bit- wait, you can see my telomeres?” Cyborg looks down at his arm, and his cybernetic eye scans it. “Weird. So can I. Why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Presumably because you already know how old you are,” Flash says, suddenly standing in front of Cyborg, “I’m Flash, by the way.” He puts out his hand at superspeed.

“I think introductions can wait,” Wonder Woman says. “You were about to describe the threat.”

Batman drops a metal ball on the ground which projects an image of Amanda Waller. “She’s basically me, if I worked for the government, was a complete sociopath and had been recruiting the most dangerous criminals we’d ever fought to weaponize against us.”

“If she’s basically you the suit quite effectively shapes your thunder,” Flash says.

“And it kind of washes you out,” Cyborg adds.

“Quiet, children, the adults are speaking,” Arthur says.

“Dude, you’re like thirty, not Arthurian.”

Arthur’s confused. “My name is actually Arthur.”

“That’s no excuse for talking like a Shakespearean character.”

“Touche.”

“Clever,” Flash rolls his eyes, “because Le Morte d’Arthur was written in ye olde English.”

Batman gets an alarm on his gauntlet. “We don’t have time for any of this,” Batman interrupts, “or any time for me to prep you. They’re on their way.”

“You’re leading them here,” Superman says, turning towards Batman, suddenly short.

“Like I said, we fight them here, they can’t hurt civilians- or use the fact we’ll protect innocent people against us. I asked all of you here for two reasons- one, there’s someone coming here each of you has fought before. Two, I think we share the same goal- saving innocent lives. You want to hate me after, you want to kick the hell out of me after, you can.”

“Something tells me he gives a similar speech on dates,” Flash says to Cyborg.

“Man, I’m just happy to be included,” Cyborg replies. “I’ve fought precisely one costumed weirdo. Usually somebody’d slap an ‘S’ on my chest and make me a sidekick, or put me on the JV squad.”

“We aren’t a team,” Batman continues. “We don’t know one another. Our best bet is to continue to work alone, fan out across this place. I’ve built in automated defenses; all of you have been white listed. But knowing the people coming, my traps will only soften them up.”

Cyborg raises his hand. “Yeah, as the one Black guy in the spooky, derelict prison, I think I’d be remiss in not objecting to us splitting up.”

“Anybody want to pair off with Stone?” Batman asks. “You’re welcome to. I’d suggest refraining from sleeping with him, though-”

“No reason to tempt the Gods?” Wonder Woman asks wryly.

“I will,” Flash says, before stopping himself, “go with you, I mean, not sleep with- I have a girlfriend.”

Cyborg puts up his hands. “No one asked, man.”

“So it’s a no questions asked situation?” Aquaman asks Wonder Woman.

“I heard that,” Cyborg says. “And we’re the children,” he says

“I mean you are like ten,” Flash deadpans, waits a beat, then adds, “Kidding; I can’t see telomeres, and you’re also mostly a robot. Though you do have a very youthful cheek.”

“I moisturize.”

“It’s working for you.”

Superman and Batman pair off, mostly because Clark doesn’t trust him (which makes Bruce like him more), and because he wants to try to keep the vulnerable human alive (which makes Bruce like him less). But Batman has his own plans, and takes him to his control room.

“You really trust this Bat-guy?” Green Lantern asks.

“Trust isn’t a concept in my culture. Agendas, subterfuge, are only possible for short durations, and usually by means of rogue technology. I know who he is; I know what he wants, and what he needs. He has been honest with us, to a point.”

“It’s that caveat that has my Lantern senses tingling.”

Manhunter reconsiders. “He would die to protect any one of us, without hesitating. He involved us only reluctantly, after nearly dying twice earlier this evening.”

“I’m beginning to feel like all of us are metaphorically naked around you.”

“Your ring provides rudimentary telepathic defenses. And it’s not polite to pry. I did look into the man, before we came. I’m a father; I can’t risk myself recklessly.”

Batman comes over the loudspeaker. “They’ll likely let the White Martian take point, in the hopes he can disable some of our defenses. He’s easily the largest threat. He’s a telepath. He could shut us all down from a distance without John.”

“So I’m your shield,” Hal says.

“Did I not mention that?” John asks wryly. “Although you won’t need to be for long. He’s here.”

John telepathically tells Flash and Cyborg where the Martian is. John has Cyborg scan to locate him despite him being invisible, and has Flash attack him with a whirl-wind, which John tells them will disrupt his ability to control his atoms- especially after Batman’s attack. Then he attacks the Martian’s mind.

For a moment Martian Manhunter and the White Martian posture, turning into vast webs of limbs and weapons, before John lowers his weapons. “You aren’t like the others. No bomb in your neck; I suppose you could phase out of it the second you wanted. What did they use to leash you?”

The White Martian lowers his weapons. “Megan. They threatened her- to drop thermobaric bombs on her, her school, your apartment. I couldn’t chance it.”

“No. I wouldn’t ask you to. But your heart’s not in this fight. Yield, and I will make it painless. You will tell them you were injured, and lost.”

He takes John’s hand. “Keep our daughter safe.” John shuts down the White Martian’s mind, and John tells Flash to stop, and the Martian falls.

Suddenly we’re in a different control room. Somewhat subtly, to start, it’s the same basic décor as Batman’s. “Martian’s down,” Flag says, as they watch on cameras.

“With time to spare,” Waller says with a smile, as she watches the Suicide Squad make their way through the halls. “He bought us our in.”

“I’m still not happy to have you on-site. You’re what we refer to as a high-value target, and we brought you into the lion’s den.”

“Had to be done,” she says. “This billionaire playboy has tech even DARPA doesn’t understand. The only way I could control this battlefield without being noticed and digitally cut off was to be on site, hard-wired into the system- a lot of which is our system.”

Waller takes control of a security panel, and tells it to target the Flash, before stopping herself, because he’s too fast to shoot. So she’ll give the hero a chance to save someone, and instead targets Cyborg with an automated gun. Flash tries to save Cyborg from as many bullets as he can, but takes several shots in the legs; Cyborg is able to build a metal shield with his tech that’s able to sop up bullets- though clearly the gun is slowly cutting pieces from it.

Back in the control room, Superman stands over Batman, both staring at a monitor. “Stop shooting at them,” he menaces.

“That’s not my gun. I don’t do guns.” There’s a flash of understanding on Superman’s face; he had an idea of who Batman was under the cowl, but that confirms it for him. “Someone else installed it. And they control it.”

“Then I’ll-”

Wait.”

“Can’t you hack into it?” Flash asks, as Cyborg protects him behind a shrinking shield.

“I can’t. It’s hard-wired,” he says, distracted by the gunfire.

“Then hard-wire.”

“Right.” Cyborg scans the nearest wall, finding the right cable, and punches into it, ripping the wiring out and inserting it into a port in his arm. The gun dies. “Whooh!” Cyborg says, raising his arms before collapsing with Flash. “Think I’ll lay back and have a little celebratory heart attack.”

“S’cool,” Flash says dazedly, largely laying in Cyborg’s arms. “I’m just gonna lay here trying to regrow my legs. I feel safe here, as the little spoon. Don’t tell Iris.”

We cut to Batman’s control room. “You’re not, are you?” Superman asks. “Going to tell her?”

“Only with a compelling reason,” Batman says.

“I assume you have one, for keeping me here, for why I’m not fighting with others.”

“I’ve seen the footage, from your coming out party, at Kansas State.”

“That’s not what it was.”

“I wanted you here because you’re vulnerable, in a way most of the team isn’t.”

“I thought you said we weren’t a team.”

“Teams train together. They trust one another. I don’t see either of those happening.”

“You really have trust issues, don’t you Bruce?”

“What?” Batman menaces. Superman is already a blur, but he’s back an instant later.

“God,” Superman says, putting his hand on Batman’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I know what it’s like to lose parents too young…”

Don’t.”

“It’s not healthy to stay this closed off.”

“I mean don’t get distracted.” Batman is focused on a camera, and we zoom into it.

Black Manta is advancing on Aquaman. “I thought for sure they would have sprung Orm,” Arthur says. “Or at least found a Colossal Squid salty I kicked it or something. Those diving suits are cool, but this is going to feel a lot like punching do-” Black Manta blasts Aquaman off his feet. Aquaman is wheezing, struggling as he tries to gets up. A little nozzle telescopes out of a wall, and hits him with a comedically large spray of water.

Superman grins, watching Aquaman knocked back on a jet of water. “And they think you have no sense of humor.”

“I’m about 90% sure that his powers are in part water-based, and judging from the heat coming off that blast, it dehydrated him.”

“Any defenses you were planning on using on the bad guys?” Superman asks, as Manta continues to advance. A different device telescopes out of the floor, and sprays oil onto it.

Manta’s suit gives him a warning, about low-friction, right before he starts sliding, kicking his legs wildly before doing a full Home Alone fall on his back. “Nyuck nyuck,” Superman says.

“Quiet,” Batman replies.

Aquaman punches Manta, but the suit is hardened, originally to withstand crushing ocean depths, and then redesigned to withstand Aquaman’s punches, so it barely dents. Manta tries to blast him from the ground, with Aquaman diving out of the way. “Remove the helmet,” Batman says through a speaker.

“Oh, right,” Aquaman says. He rolls out of the way of another blast. Manta tries to stand, but is even more oily than before, and falls face-down. Aquaman gets a knee into his back, and uses the leverage to tear Manta’s helmet off him. Suddenly seeing David, he feels a pang of remorse. “David, I-”

Manta punches him, knocking him back.

“You want me to-” Superman gestures in that direction.

“No,” Batman says, holding up his hand.

Aquaman lunges, reeling back to throw a punch, but Manta has ample time to punch him in the face. Manta freezes, and we see that Aquaman wasn’t throwing a punch at all, but delivering an octopus, one holding a small glass vial, sitting on Manta’s shoulder.

“I imagine you’re familiar with box jellyfish.” The octopus holds the vial up so that Manta can see there’s a little baby jellyfish inside. “Their tentacles are covered in microscopic cells that function like hypodermic needles. I’ve been working with Percy to get the dosing right; too much venom can cause cardiac arrest, but the right dose leads to paralysis. Because I don’t want to hurt you, David; I didn’t want to hurt your dad, either. You can blame me for his death, if you want; but he made a choice, not to look out for himself, or for you. He risked himself for profit. But… I am sorry. I know I played a role in his death. I was rash, and angry, and I lashed out. It was the first time someone tried to kill me, and I didn’t react well. But we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to take your obvious genius and bend it to hurt people. You could extend humanity’s reach into the deepest parts of the ocean, and further into the reaches of space. I hope you choose something better than this.” He turns to go. “Oh, the octopus is going to stay. He’ll give you a couple of injections. The first is a cocktail, some Atlantean medicine, spiked with some cholestorol agonists. It should prevent any long-term damage from the venom. He’ll also give you a dose of tranquilizer.” The octopus produces a syringe, and hovers the needle over Manta’s eye. “It doesn’t go in the eye, though.” Arthur leans in. “He’s not really a sadist; he just has a warped sense of humor.” The octopus flips Aquaman off as he walks away. “I saw that.” The octopus looms over Manta, wringing his tentacles menacingly.

“Diana,” we hear Aquaman call. Then we cut to him searching. “Diana!”

We cut to Diana parrying a strike from Cheetah. “We don’t have to do this, Barbara.” She catches another blow on her bracelet, which clearly hurts Cheetah’s hand. “I have no desire to hurt you.”

“No,” Minerva scoffs. “You just want to protect the status quo, and all the predators that protects.”

Diana ponders a moment. “I don’t. I also don’t know who preyed on you, Barbara, but I would love to help you stop them- or stop those like him.”

Minerva weighs the offer. “You might even believe that. But they don’t.” Aquaman passes on the other side of two-sided glass, thick enough he can’t hear their fighting. “The men you’re fighting with. Men can’t accept strong women. You’ll find that out.”

“They don’t get to make my decisions for me.”

“You might believe that. I can’t.” Barbara unsheathes her claws. “I know I can’t beat you. You’re faster. Stronger. And you’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than I have. In a fair fight, I’m catnip. So why fight fair?” She produces Flag’s sidearm, and fires slowly. She’s trying to lead Wonder Woman towards a Claymore mine she and Flag set.

“You should help her,” Batman barks.

“I’m not a dog you can order to attack.” He uses his x-ray vision to ascertain her location in the prison. “I have her- if she needs me.” There’s an awkward silence for a moment. “I do have a Kryptonian dog with similar powers… but he’s shorter, cuter, likes being scritched behind the ears.”

Batman pauses a beat. “What breed?” Batman asks, both because he’s genuinely trying, and because he actually likes dogs, or at least, he likes his.

“Uh, Kryptonian, I otherwise don’t know how to answer that.” He pauses, too, realizing what’s happening. “Yours?”

“German Shepherd. Smart, loyal. Alfred named him ‘Ace.’”

“I guess Krypto resembles a labrador, a white one. He’s smart, too.”

“Do you make him wear a cape?”

“He… gets really anxious if you try to take it off him. Yours?”

“I’m not a monster.”

Pause a beat.

“Have you ever called him your bat-hound?” Clark asks.

Awkward silence, before we cut back to Wonder Woman deflecting more bullets.

“I want you to know something, Barbara, that you taught me. I always saw these bracelets as a shield. I used them to protect myself, and my sisters. I was so focused on protecting people, that I didn’t realize, sometimes the best defense,” she turns her wrists, so a pair of Minerva’s bullets bounce off the bracelets, and ricochet to hit Minerva in the knees, and she goes down, “is offense.”

Barbara’s lying on the ground, holding her gunshot knees. “If I call that a sucker punch, do I have to admit you suckered me?”

Diana holds out a bit of cloth to bind the wounds. “I can’t make promises, Barbara, but I meant what I said. If I can help you, or help you help others, I will. And may the gods make room in Hades for the men who oppose me.”

Cheetah thinks a moment, before taking the cloth.

We cut back to Waller’s control room. “Damnit, I’ve lost visual on Quinn,” Flag says. “Should I blow her?”

“If it’s permission you’re asking for, I think it’s the lady who’d be the one to give it,” Boomerang says, tapping Harley’s monitor.

“No,” Waller says. “This place was a prison, built in the old Gotham mines. There’s feet of rock, concrete and ore in places. We still have audio.”

We cut to Harley, walking into Batman’s control room, holding a white flag in one hand and cue cards, the first of which reads, “Hiya, Bats!” with a little heart dotting the I. She quickly flips to the next card. “I’m bugged” (with a crudely drawn cockroach illustrating it). “And booby-trapped.” Her next card has two diagrams, one with an outline of a chest that’s Xed out, and the other with a circle at the neck.

Batman holds up his hand to stop Superman. We zoom in on his mouth, barely moving; we hear it as Superman does, a whisper, but LOUD. “X-rays might set it off.” Clark nods grimly.

Batman pulls a device with a needle and a scalpel from his utility belt, and Harley stumbles backward, falling back into a chair. Batman signs at Clark, and we subtitle it. “Distract her.”

Superman begins pantomiming, and Harley, confused, follows along. “Look? It’s a bird? No, a plane? No- ow, my neck,” Harley moans, as Batman jabs something into her neck.

“The device is inactive,” Batman says at full volume. “It’s probably safer not to remove it in the field.”

“So it’s safer to leave it in my neck?” Harley asks, springing to her feet.

We cut back to Waller. “Detonate,” she commands, and Flag hits the red button with her name on it. She waits a moment, listening for a detonation. “Shit.”

We’re back with Batman, Superman and Harley. “You could have been wrong,” Clark says.

“But I wasn’t,” Batman says. “Receiver was using a WayneTech chip. I removed it.”

Harley collapses back into her chair. “I really need anxiety meds.”

“Who’s left?” Batman asks, leaning threateningly over her, tilting her chair to put her even more ill-at-ease.

“I’d tell him,” Superman says. “He’s really not rational when he’s like this.”

“Who is left?” he asks again.

“When I left the other control room, there was Boomer, Flag, and Waller.”

“Waller’s on site,” Batman says. “And Flag has a fractured rib; should take some of the fight out of him. Should have broken his trigger fingers while I was at it. That’s all?”

“That, and ‘the big guy’ who was apparently a big fan of eating hearts, and the only one who spooked the guards more than Mistah J.” Metallo crashes through the rear wall, and immediately the shielding around his kryptonite core slides away. “Oh, and that guy.”

“Damnit, Quinn,” Batman says, ducking under one of Metallo’s arms even as he connects with Superman, knocking him into the opposite wall.

Batman starts kicking one of the console panels. “What are you doing?” Quinn asks.

“These systems are all water-cooled.” The panel bends inward, and he’s able to tear it loose, and slices through a hose with a batarang in his fist.

“Heh,” Harley chuckles to herself, “his water broke.” The water crests against Metallo’s metal feet, where he’s using Superman, embedded in the rock at this point, as a punching bag. Batman climbs on the chair with her. “Hey, what gives?”

“We’re improvising. Lift your feet.” She does, as he flings several batarangs at some insulated cords along the wall, slicing through them. One strikes the water, electrifying the floor, frying Metallo, freezing him. Superman, no longer held in place by the force of punches, slides to the floor, where he starts being electrocuted. He struggles to the cable, and picks it up, stopping the flow of current.

“That hurts more than you might think,” Superman says.

“We improvised,” Harley says, as Batman sprints across the room. “You should have listened when he said to lift your feet.”

“I’m sure he’s shielded, we’re probably just waiting for his processors to boot back up,” Batman says as he welds a piece of lead-lining from an x-ray protection gown in Metallo’s chest. “That should help,” he says. “Just don’t hit him in the chest.” Metallo grabs Batman by the throat, but Superman is there in an instant, and knocks him back.

“You okay?” Superman asks.

“I’m fine.”

“A choking like that won’t do any more than a day of vigorous growling,” Harley says, as Metallo and Superman punch each other in the face. “It’s kinda like rock ‘em sock ‘em robots,” Harley says, having to leap out of the way as Metallo throws Superman.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he says, before flying at Metallo.

“Ma’am me again and I’ll make you sorry,” she says, kicking at the empty air where he’d been. Batman grabs hold of her chair and rolls her into the hall as a man-shaped dent appears in the door behind them.

“I think we’re safer out here,” Batman says.

“Unless they’ve got some kind of redundancies in the arming mechanism,” Harley says.

“Fair point. Stick close.”

“Yeah. Nobody wants to die alone if they can take someone else with them.”

“If they need line of sight to set off any redundancies, they have to expose themselves.”

“Ew,” Harley says, making a face.

“Now this is awkward,” a voice echoes menacingly through the halls.

“Run,” Batman says, but Harley stands her ground.

“I never thought I’d find you rubbing another man’s rhubarb,” Joker says, stepping out of the shadows with a large gun.

“I thought the emoji was an eggplant,” Harley says.

“I just can’t decide who to shoot first,” he laughs to himself, before jamming a drum magazine onto his gun. “But I’m not Dent- I don’t have to choose- I can just shoot everone!” he cackles gleefully, filling the hallway with gunfire that doesn’t quite drown out the sound of his laughter (or last as long).

Batman shoves Harley down, taking the brunt of the shots in his armor, protecting her. They’re both lying on the floor, unmoving, Batman with his face covered by a few inches of water.

Joker walks slowly, reloading as he speaks. “Of all the girls I shoved to the floor, I never thought I’d find you sleeping with the enemy, though so long as you’re both sleeping with the fish, who am I to com-” close on Joker’s feet, as we see he’s tripped a wire. Joker stops dead in his tracks, and says, “heh, booby,” before an explosion knocks him into the far wall.

Batman sits up gasping for air. “My hero!” Harley says, wrapping her arms around him. Batman is clearly uncomfortable with the affection, and stands stiffly up.

“I knew he had to be hurting you, too. It’s who he is.”

“It is who he is,” she says indignantly, stamping over to Joker and beginning to kick him.

“Ow, my heart,” he says pathetically, as Batman lifts her up and puts her down away from Joker. Batman lifts him up, and Harley kicks him back down. Batman raises a stern finger to her, and she puts up her hands. Batman gets him up enough to cuff him to a metal bar, then turns to leave, before stopping.

“You know, we’d all be safer if he was unconscious.” Unbridled joy spreads across Harley’s face.

“You wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses, would you?” Joker asks, putting on a pair.

“Those are mine!” she squeals indignantly, kicking him, taking the glasses, and then scissor kicking him into the bar with a gloriously satisfying clang. “I just use ‘em for reading,” Harley says, folding them and putting them in a pocket.

We cut back to Waller and Flag. “Given I can hear the thunder of steel men’s fists, I take it Corben’s still in the fight,” Waller says.

“That’s a bad sign,” Flag says. “He’s not supposed to go toe-to-toe. His edge was the surprise. Longer the fight goes, the better the odds it doesn’t go our way.”

“Then let’s stop dicking around,” Waller says. “Time to put our big gun in play.”

“I’m not sure how wise that is. He might decide to just kill the two of us and leave.”

“Captain, if I stopped every time a man might decide to kill me, I wouldn’t have made it past elementary school.” She cues up a mic. “Do it.” She opens a channel into a cell. “I know we’re still getting to know one another. I know you’re still considering whether to just slaughter your way free. But I have a counter-offer. Kill one of these ‘heroes’ for me, and I’ll see all Earthly records of your time and crimes here expunged. Kill a second, and you’re free. Kill them all, and I’ll tell you where I have William Hand stashed away. Whatever you decide to do with him, it will be like he never existed. Oh, and the first ‘hero’ you get to kill is a Green Lantern.”

We see sharp teeth smiling in the dark cell, lit very faintly by a red light. “With blood and rage of crimson red,” the large alien’s foot stomps, shaking his cage as Waller’s soldiers run.Ripped from a corpse so freshly dead,” his other foot stomps as he tears off his shackles, sending the metal chains flying at camera, “Together with my hellish hate,” he smashes his metal cell, and the doors and all of the walls and even the ceiling fly off in different directions, “I’ll burn you all, That is your fate!” Atrocitus screams, the final words of his oath, as a red lantern symbol burns behind him.

“So… that’s bad,” Hal says. “I thought Sinestro removed him from the planet.”

“Apparently he was stopped by the Earth authorities,” John says, gleaning that much from a superficial reading of Waller’s fleeing soldiers.

Hal’s ring fills them in. “His ring assessed that human casualties sustained in retaining custody of the prisoner were unacceptable, not to mention that the odds of the prisoner escaping during any conflict approached the 90th percentile.”

“John can you-” Hal doesn’t finish the thought before he’s knocked back by one of Atrocitus’ projections.

“No,” John says, phasing through another. “Like your ring, his provides a degree of telepathic shielding. This calls for a more direct approach.” John phases through Atrocitus’ force-field.

“Martian, huh?” Atrocitus says, almost a laugh. “Burn.”

John is engulfed in a burning red flame, before Hal is able to douse him with green foam to put him out. John is able to phase back through the field. “That hurt like fire,” John says.

“You know what else burns like fire?” we hear the words as Flash blurs by. He vibrates through Atrocitus’ shield, and punches him a thousand times, before Atrocitus stumbles backward. Flash vibrates back out. “That’s right: getting punched like a thousand times in a second. You know what that answer wins you?”

“Another thousand punches?” Atrocitus asks wearily as Flash vibrates back through his force-field. This time, however, he’s met with a second, growing field, that shoves him back, screaming, through the first.

“Okay, John, you were right,” Flash says, “that does burn like fire. Vic, you got anything?”

“Yeah,” Cyborg says, “just didn’t want to step on your moment.” He’s got the sonic canon he used on Deathstroke, only now it’s fancy and sleek, and he blasts Atrocitus with it. It looks, from the outside, like the force-field absorbs it without anything happening, but Vic explains, “See, I scanned the frequency of his field, and calibrated my sonics to harmonize with it, turning his field into one big echo chamber.” For a second we pop back inside the field, where the noise is hard to take. Atrocitus drops the field for a moment, to let the sound out. In the moment his field is down, he’s hit in the chest with a batarang that explodes. He stumbles backward, into Diana’s lasso, which she yanks, sending into to the ground, where we see that on his back is the octopuss.

“You know what else burns like fire?” Aquaman asks.

“I can’t be the only one who’s expecting him to say gonorrhea,” Flash interjects.

“Box jellyfish venom.” We zoom on the octopus injecting atrocitus. “Lantern?”

“I got you, little guy,” Green Lantern says, pulling both the jellyfish and octopus away from Atrocitus in a little protective bubble.

Atrocitus scream. “I don’t imagine it’ll cause paralysis in your species, which presumably come from another planet. But sounds like it’s still unpleasant.”

“Fools!” Atrocitus screams, lashing out in all directions with a wave of energy and weapons and flames, knocking them all to the ground. “I will peel the flesh from your skulls and eat it.”

At that precise moment, a human face barely sticking to a metal exoskeleton impacts with Atrocitus’ force-field; it’s Metallo, thrown by Superman. “I wouldn’t start with that one,” Flash says. “I’m pretty sure it’s artificial. I’m sure it would do lousy things to whatever your equivalent of a colon is.”

“Fast-men, stress his shield,” Batman says. Superman and Flash run circles around Atrocitus, pummeling his force-field. “Diana, put the squeeze on him.” She lassos his field and tightens it.

“Lantern, let John in; make sure he can’t surprise us.” We zoom in. Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern are, in effect, standing on the sheath of energy around Atrocitus’ body (the one that’s inside his larger force-field bubble). They see armies of red energy monsters form and unform.

John explains that, “The rings anticipate you; they try to be prepared for whatever you might need. I have connected you, so that whatever he attempts you will counter, automatically.” Another army rises, but this time, they’re joined in battle by a tiny green one.

“Cyborg,” Batman says. “I need the opposite of what you did before- a frequency that will cancel his field. I need a hole.”

“Then call me Dr. Stone,” Vic says, before adding, “kidding, ‘Doctor Stone’ is my father.” He blasts the field, slicing a hole in it.

“Shuck him like an oyster,” Batman commands. He manages to get a batarang in the hole, and pulls, himself, as the others grab on the hole in the field and pull. Atrocitus tries to create a red energy tentacle, but it’s caught by a green glove, he creates a battery of missiles, only for a green ramp to aim the missiles directly into his own face.

“John? I’m pretty sure he’s not fire on the inside,” Batman says.

John smiles. “You terrible, clever man.”

John oozes through the hole into the force-field, then phases past the energy sheath around his body, poring into his mouth and disappearing. “Would you like to do the honors?” John asks in Batman’s head, as Atrocitus’ sheath dissipates.

“John knows everything about your species that you or the Green Lanterns do. Like where to put pressure to bisect your spinal cord.” Atrocitus’ legs go limp, and he crashes onto his stomach. “Drop the ring, and yield, and it stops. Or John and I start getting creative.”

“Bastards,” Atrocitus yelps, peeling off the ring.

“Lantern?” Batman asks.

Hal picks up the ring in a green energy box, and his ring tells them it’s an authentic ring, that Atrocitus is unarmed. “You can come back out, John.” Manhunter phases out of Atrocitus, which lets him leave all of his bodily fluids where they had been.

“I thought he smelled bad on the outside,” John says. “Is that a reference humans still make? I’m… making a list.”

Quinn arrives with the Squad Members, and Waller in tow. Waller has a boomerang sticking out of her forearm. “Tell them what you told me, B-man,” Harley says.

“I can disarm the bombs in their necks, Waller. But you’re going to let them go.”

“Really?” Waller asks, shoulder-checking Harley as she steps to the front of the group. “From where I’m standing you’re holding an exceedingly weak hand. I know who all of you are, under the masks. Two of you are aliens. Two others aren’t human. One is in thrall to an alien military force, another a threat to modern society, and the other a threat to the very fabric of reality. This is one fight you can’t win, B-man.” She leans on the “B” in a way to make clear she considered calling him “Bruce.”

“That’s your problem. You don’t realize you’ve already lost.” Batman has footage from her control room, played holographically. Harley breaks in. Waller is nearer to the door, and tries to slow her down.

“Her bomb is disabled,” Waller barks. “She stops, or we start blowing the other Task Force members.”

“I’m not killing random people for you, Amanda,” Flag says, stepping away from the control panel.

She hits Harley with her gun, and pushes past him, “Then I’ll do it.”

Boomerang hits her with a boomerang in the arm (the one still embedded in the meat), and Harley punches her in the face. Flag puts up his hands.

The footage cuts to Waller training a gun on Cyborg, shooting Flash, shows Waller ordering Atrocitus to attack them.

“I’ll spell out for you what I have, Waller: it’s an agent of the government weaponizing a criminal army on US soil against citizens, none of whom have been accused of a crime. Worse, two of your targets are diplomatic envoys from sovereign nations. And,” documents flash across the screen, “here are the contracts for the tech you hoped to steal and then have replicated. So door number 1 is the end of your career, and your seedy little Suicide Squad.”

“Then what’s the carrot?”

“You live to fight another day. But your indentured army goes free. And so do we. An end to hostilities against anyone in this room. You still get to operate in the shadows, you just stop using us as your proving ground. There will be no reprisals- not from any of us, and not from you, or I go public, and the chips fall where they may.”

“You trust them?” she asks of the Squad.

“I trust that they understand their situation. Right now, I’m the lesser of two evils. But I’ll worry about that. This agreement is between you and me. Of course, you can always try to renegotiate with them.” Flag and Harley in particular are staring daggers at her, but Cheetah understands she could have been the one Waller tried to kill despite their agreement.

“Fine.” She shakes his hand. Waller leaves. Flag stays behind.

“You sure I can’t just kill her on her way out?” Cheetah asks.

“No,” Batman says. “But I do have an offer I’d like to make to all of you.”

“I should make sure she doesn’t make a beeline for the control room,” Flash says, zooming away.

We cut to later. “I’m not sure how I feel about you hiring yourself a mercenary army,” Superman says.

“We’ll have plenty to talk about that, though I view it more as an unorthodox rehabilitation program,” Batman says, but holds up his hand. Batman says, “Mask of Zorro,” into a bit of rock wall, and a piece of cave slides away, revealing a number pad. He removes his glove, and taps in a code, his fingerprints providing the biometric portion of the lock. The cave wall slides away, revealing a sleek black train. “All aboard.”

The ride is smooth, and doesn’t last very long, before they arrive in the Batcave. Alfred has prepared a feast for them, and set a table and chairs out for them to eat. “What is all this?” Superman asks. “You said yourself we aren’t a team.”

“No,” Batman says, “but maybe we need to be. Waller isn’t going away. I’ve known her kind. She may not be this brazen again, but she isn’t done testing us. And she’s far from the worst threat waiting in the wings. I haven’t changed my mind- not completely; I’m not ready to build a hall of justice and schedule regular meetings of our justice…”

“Family,” Superman suggests.

“Corps,” Green Lantern tries.

“Titans,” Cyborg adds.

“Legion?” Wonder Woman says.

“League?” Aquaman offers.

“Avengers?” Flash asks.

“I’m regretting this already,” Batman says. “But for tonight, we endured. For tonight, I need to say,” he removes his mask, “thank you for coming.” He can’t quite bring himself to admit that they came to his rescue, that they saved him, but they did, and they all understand- and understand that each and every one of them would have done the same for them, but also for anyone. That whether or not they say it tonight, they have built something, something that will endure.

We roll credits.

Mid-credits scene: “There’s a bloody morals clause?” Boomerang asks.

“And a death waiver,” Harley adds.

“It’s a liability waiver,” Flag says. “Death, dismemberment, other injury. Benefits are generous; life insurance if we’re killed, full disability insurance if we’re injured on the job. The morals clause just says we punch who we’re supposed to; looks to be modeled on a military code of conduct.”

“It was,” Batman says, walking into their midst. “But like I said, you don’t want to sign, you’re free to walk. You stay, you work for me. I put a team of high-priced lawyers on any prior issues you’ve had, and compensate you handsomely for your time and talents. Unlike Waller, I don’t view any loss of life as acceptable- especially my people’s lives.”

“How handsomely?” Quinn flips to a different page for Boomerang.

“Monthly?”

“Annually.”

Boomerang scoffs. “I got that much in a single day from hitting Central City Bank.”

“And how much of it did you get to keep?” Batman asks. “Scratch that. How deep in the hole were you, between boomerangs and dental work after Flash was done with you? 10 thousand? More?” He pivots away from Boomerang, who is a little pissed, but Harley puts her hand on his arm and he chills. “There are also bonuses. I anticipate us hitting criminal enterprises. Drugs and weapons we destroy, but we keep cash or anything else. Fifty percent goes towards operating costs- with the hope of reaching sustainability- the rest is yours to split evenly. So that figure is guaranteed base pay; you step on a landmine two steps into your first mission and lose a foot, you get that to live on- maybe more, if the rest of the team keeps paying out your portion of the bonuses. Oh, and if you stay on, you train.”

A woman with short red hair and military workout gear drops her bags. This is Batwoman, though we aren’t going to see her in costume for a while yet.

More credits, then one final end credits scene. Bruce Wayne is walking Ace on the grounds of Wayne Manor. He bends over to pet the dog’s head as a gust of wind blows, and the dog whimpers. “It’s okay, boy,” he whispers. “What are you doing here?” he asks without turning around.

“There’s someone I thought you needed to meet,” Superman says, before floating aside, revealing his flying dog, Krypto! The dog lands beside Ace, and they smell each other. “And you must be Ace,” Superman puts his hand out, and Ace sniffs it. Ace looks to Bruce for approval. Bruce gives a little nod, and the dog responds happily, and rubs his face into Clark’s hand.

“Krypto, meet Bruce.” Krypto floats in front of him.

“Does he shake?” Bruce asks. Krypto shakes like he was covered in water, and stares at him with a dopey dog smile on his face.

“Told you he was smart. And yes. If you put out your paw, he’ll shake.”

“How smart?” Bruce asks, putting out his hand. Krypto shakes it.

“I don’t have a precise answer; smarter than an Earth dog, not as smart as a human. The sun affects him the same way it has me.”

“Strong as you?” Bruce pulls the dog forward by the paw, and it rolls, flipping him over. He rolls, landing gracefully.

“Proportionally, at least.”

“Hmm,” Bruce says, eyeing the dog. “That might make him, pound for pound, the most dangerous thing on the planet.” Bruce turns back towards Ace. “I hope he’s a good boy.”

“You said the magic word,” Clark says, as Bruce is mauled by Krypto’s tongue, giving him dozens of slightly too-fast face licks. “Who’s a good boy?” Clark asks, and Krypto flies to him next.

“I think that depends on what you value,” Bruce says, snapping, and Ace sits at attention. Bruce gives him a treat. An instant later Krypto is sitting next to Ace, sitting just as behaved and attentive. “Touche,” he says, and tosses Krypto a treat of his own.

“Wait,” Superman says, “what’s he got in his mouth?” Ace is holding a small plush of an impish figure in an ill-fitting Batman costume.

“Damnit,” Batman says. “That’s his Bat-Mite.”

“Bat-Mite?”

“Alfred found it on a trip to India. As far as we can tell, the name is a corruption. One of the meanings of ‘man’ is ‘value,’ which can translate to “mite” in Urdu. I’m not sure how he keeps finding the damn thing; I keep hiding it.”

Ace holds it out, and Krypto sniffs it, before licking the doll’s face. We don’t see it, and neither do our heroes, but Krypto notices the imp wink at him, and tilts his head in that confused way dogs do.

End

DC Reboot Pitch: The Flash

The Deal: this is the seventh in a series of pitches for the rebooted DC Movies. I’m using AI art to mock-up these pitches, because it’s fun, trust me.

The Pitch

We start in a poorly-lit bar. “Look, we’ve all had our asses handed to us by the scarlet speedster,” the speaker turns, and we see it’s Captain Boomerang. He’s speaking to four other Rogues.

“What I don’t get is why, if it’s your plan, it isn’t your team,” Heat-Wave says.

“I have an in, that’s all. Doesn’t change I’m not the leadership type.”

“Maybe calling yourself a ‘Captain’ is giving off confusing signals,” Heat-Wave says.

“Besides, we’ve got a fully capable leader-type right here,” Boomerang claps Captain Cold on the back, “and a bloody Captain to boot.”

“I still think I should lead,” Weather Wizard pouts sullenly.

“Mate,” Boomerang soothes, “Heat-Wave’s dating Golden Glider, and she’s Cold’s blooming sister. Right now, it’s a family team; I’m fun uncle Boomerang. A man smart as you claim ought to see the smart play is figuring out how you fit into this dynamic- not how they can fit around you, yeah?” Weather Wizard tries on a smile. “There’s a smile; careful, widen that any further, I might think you want me to make you me auntie.”

We cut to later, in the same bar. Boomerang is the only one of them left, and he’s drinking with Rick Flag. “That was defter handling than I’d have given you credit for,” Flag says, “enough to make me think this batshit plan of yours has more than a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“It’ll take a sight more than flattery and stale beer to get into my knickers, Captain.”

Flag slides a dossier across the table. “And you can keep the contents of your stale knickers to yourself.”

“It was the beer I said was stale-” he stops himself, “you’re flirting with me. Careful your lips don’t write checks your mouth won’t cash.” Flag glares, because that is not the idiom. He gets up to leave, and Boomerang grabs his wrist, insisting the Rogues don’t kill.

“That’s fine. This is a proof of concept. No one’s asking you to put a bullet in the Flash. You just got to put him down.”

“Right. And the unspoken bit isn’t that you’ll have a sniper ready the moment he’s moving slow enough to snipe? Because the Rogues may not kill- but that doesn’t mean they won’t kill me if I make them murderers.”

“My superiors wouldn’t go to this much trouble just to kill him- there are easier ways to do that.”

“I get a little excited and a little afraid when you say things like that.”

Flag starts to leave, but over his shoulder says, “That’s proof you’re not as stupid as you look, sound, act and dress.” Boomerang lets fly with a boomerang, slicing Flag’s shoulder holster strap right beside his neck so it falls off him; at the same time, Flag draws, spins and fires.

“Missed me,” Boomerang says, triumphantly, as Flag gathers the shredded remains of his holster.

“Did I?” Flag asks, as Boomerang becomes aware of a glug-glug noise. Boomerang moves his jacket, and sees the hole Flag blasted in his flask.

“Aw. My mom got me that flask last Christmas. Sewed the little boomerangs on herself.”

We’re going to montage the origin, mostly because I like the idea of Flash giving us a one-minute origin story only slightly sped-up, almost like a ‘last time on’ flash-back. “Okay, I know you’re really excited to get into the story, so we’ll do this really quick. I’m Barry Allen, crime scene tech and physicist- because physcisting doesn’t really pay the bills- and I kind of accidentally managed to breach the space-time barrier and end up infused with the Speed Force, which turned me into the fastest man alive, as in, can move at basically the speed of light. That gave me the time to do all of the things I’d always dreamed of, like learning how to sew my own costume and stop most crime in the city before anybody gets hurt. Also car accidents and a lot of other things. And no matter what Superman says, I always beat him in our races- except that one time he planned the route over every mountain range- I had to run several thousand more miles than he had to fly, how is that fair?”

Flash comes to a stop in the center of the frame, and peels off his mask. Iris enters, and kisses him. We have some lingering narration. “Oh, and this is Iris West. She’s amazing.” And we also meet Wally, a couple of years younger than them. “And that’s Wally. He’s… annoying, in the way all little brothers are.” I… like the idea of having Wally be a huge dork, as in when he knows Barry is coming over, he puts on his plastic-masked Batman costume, similar to what Hank wore in Venture Brothers.

“That was so cool,” Wally says, making a fwoosh sound as he runs back inside. Barry asks if he’s late, and she tells him he’s always right on time.

“No, really.” She admits he’s a few minutes late- but at this point they always assume he will be. He follows her inside, and continues his narrating. “The Wests kind of became my home away from home. After mom died… dad and I fell apart. We couldn’t save each other, but this family saved me.”

“What have we said?” Mrs. West chastises Barry.

He looks down, runs out of the room, and back in in civilian clothes. “No costumes at the dinner table,” he says dutifully. Wally clears his throat with a loud “Ahem.” “Except for Batman,” Barry adds, “because no one knows his secret identity.”

“You really don’t?” Mrs. West asks. “I thought you all knew each other.” It’s… clear she’s got a thing for tall, dark and mysterious men.

“Smells great,” Barry says.

“He’d have to, right?” she asks Iris, before realizing he meant the food, and pivoting sheepishly. “I made extra. I know how many calories you burn.” She butters a roll, before asking. “And how’s that father of yours?”

Barry takes a deep breath, before saying, “Drunk,” then running offscreen and back. “Yep. Still drunk. Passed out in his underwear. Wait.” He disappears again, and returns. “My underwear. I’ll just burn them.”

“I wish there was something we could do,” she says.

“Nadine…” Mr. West says.

“There really isn’t anything else to be done. They’ll never smell right again.”

“Ira…” she says in a similar tone, but it’s plain from her face she’s teasing him.

“It was a tragedy,” he says. “I don’t think I’d do any better, if anything happened to you,” he puts his hand over hers and the Wests share a tender moment, before he turns his attention back to Barry. “But I’ll stop in. See if I can’t get him to come out. Make a family day trip out of it.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Barry says. “Nothing I’ve done has worked. But half the time he tears up the moment he sees me, because I remind him of mom.”

“Batman demands peas,” Wally says darkly, slamming his fist on the table. Barry picks up a single pea from the central bowl, and flicks it at Wally, who blocks it with his spoon and exclaims, “Bat pea repellent.”

“If only his sheets had that,” Iris mutters.

Barry starts flicking faster, and Wally covers himself with a plastic cape, “Pea-proof cape,” as peas bounce off of it. Subtly, Barry is zipping to Wally after each, and catching them before they hit the ground.

“Boys,” Mrs. West says, “what have I said about starting food fights at the table?”

“Oh, no,” Mr. West says, hunkering lower.

“Give me a heads up so I can arm myself,” she says, grabbing the bowl of mashed potatoes. Chaos ensues. I kind of like the idea of doing similar to the Quicksilver FX scene from Days of Future Past, only it’s Barry saving as much of the food during the fight as he can while still allowing there to be a cathartic food fight.

We cut to the aftermath. “Barry, dear, did you manage to save enough for dinner, or should we order pizza?” A moment later and the food is miraculously replaced.

“Clearly, we’re wearing most of the mashed potatoes, and a handful of peas landed in Wally’s lap. I wasn’t touching those.”

Wally leaps onto the chair, and declares they should, “Eat my green pea-ness,” as he pelvic thrusts, sending a shower of green peas over the table- which Barry catches in a different bowl, which he sets on the ground for the dog.

“Yeah, no one should eat those,” Mr. West says.

Later that night, Barry arrives home. He’s try to be quiet as he goes inside. His dad is asleep on the couch, wearing underwear just a little too small for him and no pants, snoring drunkenly. Barry sighs, and goes to his room, and we linger there a moment. Barry brings out an Afghan, and covers his father with it. He stirs. “Nora?” he asks in the dim light.

“No, dad… mom’s… not coming home.”

“Oh. Right,” we hear his sadness in his voice as he rolls over. “Could use a drink.”

“No, dad,” Barry tucks the blanket around him. “Just go back to sleep.” Barry goes into his room and gets into bed, when his phone rings. They ask for him by last name, and if he’s awake. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says. They tell him they need him at a new crime scene.

We watch a sped-up version of the crime scene investigation, but it’s inverted; everyone in the background moves around fast, while Barry is very deliberate in his movements, and he narrates. “I think what I like most about crime scene investigation is I have to slow down. It’s meditative. Because moving at the speeds I normally do would disturb the evidence; the Speed Force curbs a lot of the impact of moving at superspeed- or people would hate me for all of the sonic booms as I crossed the sound barrier- but you can’t displace that much air that quickly without causing changes to airflow, displacing small piles of… whatever this is.” Barry is taking a sample of some grains of what look like sand.

Barry takes his samples back to the lab, and runs some experiments, before typing up a report on a mechanical typewriter (because a computer wouldn’t be able to handle him typing at that speed- and even then he pauses every page or so to use a bellows to cool the metal). He faxes that over to the detective, and heads home.

Barry’s dad isn’t on the couch anymore, but left a note on the Afghan, “Gone for beer.” “Great,” Barry sighs, “another bender. Guess I’ll see you in a week, pop.”

Barry is getting ready to try and take a nap when the doorbell rings. He winces and zips to it. “Hey, Jay. What’s up?” It’s his physicist mentor, Jay Garrick.

“I had a thought…” Jay says.

“At your age? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yuck it up, junior. You’ll have gray hair before you know it.”

“Your dangerous thought?”

“I think we’re close to a break-through.”

“Yeah. I remember our last break-through- it broke me through the rear wall of our lab. I still see stars when I cough.”

“Little cartoon five-pointers? Celebrities? Or just flashes of light.”

“You’re none of the kinds of doctor who could help, regardless.”

“No, but talking to any one of those might do you wonders. Seriously. My treat.”

“I’m fine, Jay. Sprained my shoulder, and it stopped hurting before my head hit the pillow that night. So this break-through…”

“I think I know where you went awry- similar to when I had my uh… blow up.”

“That’s a very low-key way of saying you personally burnt down an entire wing of the university labs.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m ‘Uncle’ Jay, and not Professor Garrick. Though honestly, with all of the progress we’ve made since, I’m amazed I survived. My, uh, issue, was a couple of orders of magnitude bigger. And I think… maybe I finally cracked it.”

“Can it wait? I haven’t actually slept, yet.”

“And I’m not sure he’s about to,” Iris teases, pushing past Jay.

Jay puts up his hands. “I know when I’m beat; I can’t compete with that offer.”

“You sure? Maybe I prefer to be the little spoon,” Barry teases.

“You do?” she asks, her voice quivering.

“I prefer to spoon you,” he says, and pecks her on the cheek.

“I’m too old, and it’s too early for this kind of affection,” Jay says to himself, closing the door behind him.

Barry stumbles, and Iris supports him. “You okay?”

“I wasn’t exaggerating. Didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Can’t you just power through?”

“What do you think I already do? Even taking micronaps during the day, a regular day for me is like you being up for a month.”

“That sounds awful,” she says, leaning into him.Maybe I can massage some of that tension away.”

“That’s how exhausted I am. I know you’re flirting. Look, if my body responds, you’re welcome to make use of me.” She turns to close his bedroom door as he stumbles inside, “But I might…” and as she turns she finds him already completely passed out. She starts to wriggle his pants off, and he stirs. “Hmm?”

“You told me never to let you sleep in the costume. Nobody wants a hero to show up smelling like, and I quote, ‘sleep toots.’ I hate you for making me say, ‘sleep toots.’”

She curls up under his arm to nap. “You love my sleep toots.”

“The toots I don’t mind, I just don’t like the name.”

“Okay,” he says dreamily, and passes back out.

Barry wakes to his phone ringing. “Take the pants,” he says, “you be Flash today.”

“If I only took the pants I’d be a different kind of Flash,” Iris says. “And crime doesn’t call your phone.”

“Oh, right. While I answer this, see about getting me a crime phone. Red, that lights up. Ask Batman where he got his.” He picks up his phone. They ask for him by name, and he spends a moment staring at his wrist before saying, “I’m not wearing a watch.”

“I know. I haven’t slept, either. No rest for the wicked means no rest for those trying to catch them.”

“Overtime?”

“Yep. I told the Captain you’re as good as two techs, might as well pay you like it.”

“Damnit. I wanted to sleep. Had a whole speech. Threw in some creative swear words, to sell it.”

“I know. And I went and purchased your pride. If you’re not okay to drive I can send a car.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Iris drops him off. “You need to take the box,” she says, pointing to a box for a dozen donuts.

“Or you’ll eat them all?”

“I know you already ate the rest. It’s why I’m driving with a bear claw in my hand.”

“Sorry,” Barry says sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I only wanted the one.” She pulls him close with her non-bear-claw hand, “but you are going to have to help me sweat it off later.” She kisses him, and lets him go.

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date if you take me to dinner and a movie first,” she teases him. She’s mostly in good humor about it, but there’s still some part of her that would like him all to herself, at least every once in a while.

This time around, we do a quick montage, of Barry studying the scene. He pockets some of the evidence. He processes some of it in the public lab, then takes the rest to the crappy lab he and Jay rent together. Jay’s surprised to see him. “I figured I wouldn’t see you today, that you’d be sleeping, then, uh, not sleeping, then sleeping some more.”

“Just needed to borrow some of the equipment.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. City only has so many centrifuges.”

He’s clearly looking at something on a slide. “That’s not a centrifuge…” Jay grumbles.

Barry’s moving a little too fast, a little too excited. “You’re right,” he tells Jay. “Wanted to double-check that I had labeled the slides correctly before the spin.” He throws a handful of vials into the centrifuge. “Hmm…” He turns to leave.

“Uh, shouldn’t you be taking the ‘evidence?’ You know, chain of custody, and all that?”

“Uh, right.” Barry shakes his head. “I should have mainlined a cappuccino before I came here; I’d forget my feet if they weren’t attached.” He haphazardly gathers his supplies, and as he turns to go, Jay stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, just, know if you find yourself in any kind of trouble, you can call me. I can help. I know- a has-been physicist with a bad back… but sometimes just having someone to bounce things off.”

“Sure, Jay. I appreciate it. And when I have a moment, we’ll push on your breakthrough, okay?”

Barry goes out to his car, and throws the evidence in the trunk, then parks a few blocks away, takes out his costume and speeds off. While running, he calls Iris. She’s between classes at the community college. “Were we doing lunch?” he asks.

“I know we talked about it yesterday, but you’ve been ping-ponging since last night so I assumed not. Why?”

“That case you dropped me off, was related to the one from last night, and between the deposits I found at each I think I know where they are now.”

“They?”

“Cold’s cold gun, it doesn’t just freeze, but leaves a distinct chemical signature in its wake. There were also scorches that tested positive for the accelerant that Heat-Wave uses. So at least two of the Rogues were working together- I think they were trying to cover their tracks.”

“And yet you found them.”

“Well, maybe. And I don’t know yet whether or not they want to be found. It could be a trap.”

It is a trap, which he figures out fairly quickly, finding a bomb welded to a metal post… it’s only then he realizes that the warehouse is used in part for overflow for several local pet adoption agencies, and there are dozens of animals in cages. “Oh, come on,” he says. He starts springing animals from cages and running them outside, as the timer ticks down its last few seconds, and says, “If none of you puke on me, I promise I’ll help you find good homes,” the words happening in the moments he pauses enough to open new cages.

Flash and the last turtle are inches away from the flames as they grow from the bomb. Flash is winded, and realizes he’s definitely been puked on. “Okay, new deal: if none of you tell anyone how much you puked on me, I won’t kick any of you into the ocean.”

“Does that deal go for us? Because I imagine that’s a promise I can’t keep,” Boomerang say.

“Oh,” Flash says, “the boomerang guy. I wondered why the shrapnel was all in the shape of little boomerangs. I appreciate your commitment to the gimmick.” Golden Glider slices him as she skates by. I’m going with the classic version, who was an ice skater, who had skates that basically used the same tech as her brother’s cold gun to create ice everywhere she skated. To make her a little more formidable, the streamers of her costume use similar, but basically have razor edges that are also at freezing temperatures- it’s one of those that cuts Barry.

Barry turns towards her, at once confused and uncertain how to pivot, before saying, “I’m not comfortable hitting a woman.”

That angers her, and she balls her fist, about to throw a punch, “That’s not mutual,” except her laces are tied together, and she trips onto her knee. “Ow. I scraped my knee, you wang.”

“I do feel bad about that.” He sets her on a park bench, and in a flash cleans and bandages the wound. “Less so about this,” he keeps ‘bandaging,’ until she’s a duct-tape mummy tied to the bench.

“Have you out in a tick, love,” Boomerang says, as the first of his boomerangs slices the piece of tape holding her upright.

She slowly tips, wiggling to try to right herself as she grunts, “No, no, no,” before thudding face first down onto the bench, “damnit.” The rest of Boomerang’s boomerangs fall harmlessly to the ground beside her, having been plucked out of the air by Flash.

He appears next to Boomerang, holding one up. “Fascinating construction. Lightweight alloy shaped to remain aerodynamically neutral, but with enough mass to be capable of a fair distance of flight. Sharp, too.”

One hits him in the back of the head and Boomerang is ready for a follow-up punch, catching Flash as he lurches forward. “Okay,” Flash says, picking himself up off the ground, “I did not see that one coming- which I guess is the strength of a boomerang.”

Boomerang looses a flurry of boomerangs, but Flash is nowhere near as they fly- and yet keeps closing the distance, eventually revealing that he’s got a big tree branch he’s been using to collect the boomerangs as they stick in it. “Weren’t you in the military? Hold on.” He’s gone a second, then back. “Nope, not that kind of Captain. Still. A bunch of those boomerangs were aimed at kids, moms, a blue jay, even your own partner.”

“They were all aimed at you.”

“You need to think about the possibility you can miss; you need to think about what’s behind your target.”

“I yield.”

“First smart thing you’ve done… I was going to say today, but you chose that gimmick, that name, and that outfit. This is quite the rare win for you, so I won’t make you watch my victory Flash dance.” (I understand, with that sentence, the immensity of the Chekov gun I have loaded- Flash must do a Flash dance over the credits). With Flash’s back turned, Boomerang goes for his last holdout boomerang, which looked like a belt-buckle. He reels back to throw it, only for it to be replaced by a banana, which boomerangs, hitting him in the face. Flash sighs, “Your streak continues.”

Flash drags Boomerang a little too quickly to the bench beside Glider, and zip-ties him to it. The speed has him dizzy, and he reels, before starting to heave. “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the turbulence, but there are complimentary air or other sickness bags attached to your front compartment.” Flash tapes a brown paper bag to Boomerang. “Now we know you stopped having a choice of flying Air Flash the second you decided to be a criminal, but we’re glad you won’t have another chance for a while.”

While I haven’t mentioned it until now, every time Barry checks his phone, he has several emoji-choked texts from Wally. Wally is very excited that his sister is dating a superhero. Except this time, his phone is oddly quiet, quiet enough Barry calls Iris. “Everything okay over there? Wally hasn’t blown up my phone since lunchtime.”

“Huh?” Iris says. “He’s not home yet. And neither’s mom. I don’t think he had a game today. Dad?”

“No. They had their last game a few weeks ago. And track won’t start for another week.”

“Then where’s mom?” she asks as Barry walks through the door in his civilian clothes.

“No idea. She should have been home hours ago. And Wally should have been home on the bus. I’ll call her. You try your brother. Usually she’ll text if she’s giving him a ride or running an errand, but… I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Want me to pick you up something to eat?” Barry asks.

“Hmm….” Mr. West says, “with your mom not home, there’s nothing stopping us from getting extra spicy Mongolian…”

“Except that she will eventually come home, and you’re terrified of the woman,” Iris replies.

“I’m not ‘terrified.’ I’m appropriately respectful. Half extra-spicy, half mild.”

Barry calls in the order; subtly, he is speaking Mongolian. “You remember where she said she’d stick the next pepper she found in her ‘mild’ Mongolian, right?”

“Actually, she was never very clear. It’s the not knowing that keeps me up at night.”

“Order’s in,” Barry says. “They said it’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“So you’ll leave in fourteen?”

“Mongolia’s 6500 miles away, at a comfortable jogging speed, it’s about six seconds.”

“I’ll heat the oven,” Iris says.

Boomerang is alone in a dark holding cell. Flag saunters in. “Where’s Glider?” Boomerang asks.

“Yeah, they don’t book the men and the women together, for obvious reasons. Your plan seems to be all hitch.”

“A little snag- a contingency we planned for. Guy’s everywhere. The odds any one, two or four of us would get pinched were pretty high. Cold’ll come through.”

“Yeah, for his sister. You want to bet your liberty he’s coming for you?”

“I put a lot more than that on the line, here,” Boomerang says.

“Despite your obvious shortcomings- which are numerous- you’ve shown initiative. That goes a long way with me. I’m willing to bring you onto the Varsity squad. Or, you can keep playing JV ball here.”

“There isn’t a Varsity squad yet; right now this is the only game in town. I put this team together because I think they have what it takes.”

“Well, you ever get tired of life in that supervillain Guantanamo, you give me a ring- assuming you can find a way to do that from in there.” Just then, the wall behind Boomerang freezes, and Glider kicks it in. They’re not quite fast enough to vacate before the cops swarm in. Flag clothes-lines the first officer, keeping him from putting a bullet in Boomerang, then disarms the second, ejects the magazine and the chambered round before dropping the gun while showing the rest of the cops his government ID. “I wasn’t here,” he says, and walks out.

“Who was that?” Glider asks as she helps Boomerang out through the rubble.

“Spook. Trying to recruit me. Told him to sit on me boomerang and spin.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Flash asks, socking him in the jaw as he speeds by. “What would Ma Boomerang say?”

Boomerang is pissed, and gets up, rage in his eyes. “She’d call you a” we don’t hear the words, as Flash zips off.

“Huh,” Glider says. “I guess his weakness is Australian profanity.”

“No,” Cold says, pointing to the background as another explosion rocks the city. “He was responding to our distraction.”

“And you couldn’t have timed that so I didn’t get walloped in the jaw?”

“And spare you a wallaby wallopin’?” Heat-Wave jeers.

“I’m prepared, not psychic,” Cold says.

Bullets from the cops whiz by Boomerang’s head. “You didn’t prepare me a boomerang resupply, did you?”

“Glider,” Cold says.

Glider opens a case filled with his signature Boomerangs, and his eyes light up. “I could kiss you,” Boomerang says.

“Not it,” Cold and Glider say at the same time. We show the cops again, this time falling in droves as boomerangs jab into them. “You didn’t kill anybody, did you?”

Boomerang kisses one of his boomerangs. “Didn’t need to.”

“Rogues, let’s go.” I’m assuming that they drive some kind of armored vehicle, like a Humvee, using similar tech on the wheels as Glider’s skates.

We cut back to Flash. He narrates, as he gathers bombs from all over the warehouse district. “The Rogues don’t kill- they’re very proud of that- at least, not directly. The first bomb was only meant to get my attention- someone had cleared the area just before- but the rest, I suspect if someone did get killed, the Rogues would say I killed them. Negligence. Which… feels flimsy, but it beats dealing with Batman’s rogues.”

Back with the Rogues. Boomerang looks out of the back of their getaway vehicle, and sees the ice marks the tires leave- they’re leaving a trail. “I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth…”

“And yet I sense a big Australian ‘but’ coming,” Cold says from behind the wheel.

“Were leaving a frozen trail even a Flash could follow.” As if to prove his point, Flash shows up, on their tail. Cold hits a button on the steering wheel, and a cold gun built into the 0 on his custom “0-KELVIN” license plate blasts the road, turning it into a sheet of ice. Flash is moving too fast to stop, and skids on the ice, smashing into a “Stop” sign. To add insult to injury, Cold blasts him out the window, freezing him in a block of ice. Flash vibrates out of it, and puts a chunk of the ice to his head.

“That was humbling,” he says, and runs after the truck, but they’re gone.

We’re back with the Rogues. “Ah,” Boomerang says “We were the secondary distraction.”

“Weather Wizard’s a prima donna. He was definitely going to vamp while he grabbed the girl. Whole plan falls apart if Flash figures it out before all the pieces are in place. And now there’s just one more.” He pulls to a stop, and we recognize the exterior of Jay’s lab.

Watching on security cameras, Waller is pensive. “I don’t like it,” she says. “The intel gives them his friends and family. Anyone with half a brain could figure out his identity from that…” She smiles. “You don’t think they have the brains, do you? Just like you think the Rogues are a waste of time.”

She’s talking to Rick Flag. “You don’t try to turn lapdogs into attack dogs. A villain that won’t kill doesn’t serve as much of a deterrent.” He hesitates. “But what if they do manage to kill Allen?”

“Then they earn a shot at the big leagues. This job is never about being right or wrong, it’s about learning to use your failures and your successes to your future advantage.”

“And the civilian casualties?”

“There are always civilian casualties in war, Captain. But we’re not risking anyone we can’t afford to lose.”

Back with Flash, he gets a panicked call from Iris’ father, Ira. “Bastard took her.” He’s bleeding from the lip.

“Who?” Barry asks into the phone, but he beats the audio to the West home. Ira managed to capture video on his phone, he and Iris trying to fight back against Weather Wizard. Weather Wizard used lightning to carve a taunt into Iris’ wall, along with the address.

“I’m coming with you,” Ira says.

“You can’t keep up,” Flash says. “I’d just be bringing them another hostage. That might even be what they’re counting on- a hostage I’d feel extra responsible for putting in harm’s way. I’ll put you someplace safe- and I’ll bring your family back.”

“Barry, they don’t get to walk away from this.”

“I’m not killing anyone.”

“I said walk,” he says grimly.

“I’ll get them home safely,” he pats Ira on the shoulder. “Now close your eyes, exhale, and try not to think of food.”

“That’s going to be hard,” Ira says, “when it smells so…” he realizes he’s in Mongolia, at the restaurant they order take out from.

One of the servers puts down a plate in front of him. “The red man said you wanted extra spicy.”

We’re back with the Rogues. “We sure have an awful lot of Wests,” Glider says. “Your G-man say why?”

“I told him to piss off,” Boomerang lies.

“Yeah. You have a secret informant and a government stalker? You’re just not that interesting.”

Boomerang sighs. “Intel is need-to-know. All I know, is this group would hit him where he lives, soften him up, yeah? They fit a profile.”

“And we aren’t going to kill them?” she asks, louder, to her brother.

We won’t,” Cold says. “Excellent timing, as always,” he says, as Flash enters. “But this place is a death trap. Designed to slow you down, force you to make mistakes. If you do, innocent bystanders pay the price.” He reveals the others, tied, chained, whatever, to various high-tech torture devices. “Or… you kneel at my feet, take off the mask, and I cold-cock you with my gun. I’ve done the math. Even at your speed, you can’t save everyone- you’d need to be moving nearly three times the speed of light. I’ll give you a moment, if you want to double-check my figures.” As Cold monologues, we see Flash zip to the missing family members, including his father and Jay, and then pausing to indeed double-check Cold’s math. But when it comes to Jay, he winks- and not at human speed, but at Barry’s speed. Barry double-takes, and Jay vibrates free of his restraints, and they run outside to have a few nanosecond pow-wow.

Barry is stand-offish; whatever Jay has to say, he’s feeling betrayed and overwhelmed. “Here’s the thing, kiddo,” Jay starts.

“We don’t have time.”

“We do. You and I think, talk and move thousands of times faster than everyone else. We could have a day’s long argument and still have time to fix this.”

“What did you do?”

“You’re a brilliant physicist, better than I ever was, even in my prime. I literally stumbled into the Speed Force- I mean it, tripped on my damn laces and went head-over-tea-kettle. Working with you, I thought… I thought about all of the ways we could harness this speed- all of the ways we could use it to make people’s lives better. Crops that grow faster. Surgeries that are over in a blink and heal in seconds. Medicines moving so fast disease don’t have a chance to take root. And I thought… I thought I could protect you, make sure you didn’t make the same mistakes I did. And… you didn’t. You found your own damn way in. I took one night off to take Joan to a show, and… you made the breakthrough I never could. I was a fool. And I should have told you everything from the start. And I should have told you the day we started, and every day since. You deserved the truth.”

“You’re right. I did. It wouldn’t have changed anything. I still would have worked with you. But when it happened, I wouldn’t have had to feel alone.”

“Damn. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Good. Because you’re about to get a chance to make it up to me. Time really is a problem here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean even at our speed, we can’t save the other four- not without slowing down- not without making ourselves vulnerable.”

“If somebody’s got to take the hit-”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What I am saying, is that we have to do the experiment again- one last time. We give one of them speed- three of us can fix this where two can’t.”

“Your dad, Iris’ mom, they’re too old. I got electrocuted, once, nearly stopped my heart. My accident was just like that- felt like I was in cardiac arrest. I was young, when I had my accident.. The codgers may not survive it.”

“So Wally and Iris are our only shots. I know she’d risk herself for her brother; and he’d die for her. I can’t… I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to either one of them. There’s no way I could choose.”

“Okay. So don’t play God.” Jay takes out a coin from his pocket. “Heads it’s Wally, tails, Iris.” He won’t wait for it to come back down, but catches it at the top of its arc and flips it into his palm. It comes up heads.

They rescue Wally first, then pull him into the Speed Force. While Jay sets up the experiment in the background, Barry explains what’s about to happen- that if he wants, they could try and pull in Iris, instead. But Wally wants to be a superhero- he loves the Flash, so the idea of being able to help, even just this once, he leaps at the chance, even knowing there’s a risk.

“Is it going to hurt?” Wally asks, and Barry winces. But his real question is, “Will it leave a scar? My dad says chicks dig scars.”

“Don’t call them ‘chicks.’ They hate that more than they like scars.”

“But if it’s that important, we’ll make sure you get a scar,” Jay says.

“Don’t help,” Barry says.

“We ready?” Barry nods, and so does Wally. Wally is engulfed in light and electricity. During the experiment, Barry runs out, and returns with an inverted version of his uniform, yellow instead of read, with a red lightning bolt insignia, for Wally. The light and electricity fade, and Wally is left smoking for a moment, before his eyes come open, and he zips immediately into the suit.

“Fits better than my batsuit,” he says.

“You get them and you get out,” Barry says. “The Rogues might be a few bananas short of a bunch, but they’re still dangerous, and I’ve dealt with them before.”

Barry charges at Cold, and a series of charges detonate as his approach, blowing him off his feet.

“You really don’t understand, do you?” Cold asks, standing above him. “I figured you’d save them. That was always part of my plan. The Rogues don’t kill people. But you don’t count.” He lowers his cold gun, and is about to fire. Jay knocks the gun up, so it discharges into the ceiling, while Wally smacks Cold in the stomach.

“Kid,” Jay says, “remember what I said about pulling your punches.”

“I was. I tried.”

Cold coughs up blood.

“There’s more than one?” Cold exclaims. “No wonder we couldn’t beat them!”

“The only thing you could beat is, uh,” Wally starts, hitting Cold again.

“A one-legged man-” Jay hits Cold.

“No,” Wally says, shaking his head after hitting Cold.

“A duckling,” Jay hits Cold.

Wally shakes his head approvingly, then adds, “in an ugly contest,” as he lands one last punch. Then he winces. “Especially until the swelling goes down.”

“At least he can put some cold on it,” Barry says, throwing an arm around each of them. “Thanks. For having my back.”

“Any time, kiddo,” Jay says. “Now, like a family.” The three Flashes square to the Rogues, whose plans fall apart at superspeed.

Barry wraps Glider’s streamers around a pipe, then guides her into a collision with Heatwave. Wally catches several boomerangs before sending them back on a collision course with Boomerang from the other direction. Jay spends a moment geeking out over the Weather Wizard’s tech, before turning it against him.

We cut to Boomerang, behind bars. “So,” Flag says, gloating. “Fifteen to life, or take what’s behind door ‘X’?”

Boomerang spits blood. “Suppose it’s time I stepped up to the bigs, then.”

Credits, and then, the Flash Dance.

More credits, then a mid-credits scene.

“Your task force not going well, Amanda?” General Wade Eiling gloats from behind his desk in a government office. “You’d still be happier working in that carnival freakshow in Gotham?”

“I argued for a handpicked team, but failing that, I could build something out of Gotham. Wetworks requires moral flexibility. You can train any man to kill, but you can’t make any man a killer.”

“I disagree.”

“I’m not talking about soldiers. Flag was a lousy soldier. But he does the job- whatever the job.” She snaps her fingers, and Flag brings in Harley’s hyenas, who growl and posture, making Eiling lurch back in his chair. He hands Waller the leash. “They only eat fish dosed in that Joker toxin.” She pets one of them. “I can leash a rabid beast, Wade, to get it to do what I need.”

“I take your point, Amanda; my report will reflect your objections, and I’ll back your next phase- provided you get those things away from me. And Amanda, next time, no theatrics. Or I put a bullet in each of your pets, and maybe you, too.”

“Wade, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were flirting.”

They share a smile.

More credits, and then one final scene. Barry, Jay and Barry’s dad are at the Wests, having a meal. Mrs. West pulls Barry to the side. “You… haven’t seen Ira, have you?” she asks, trying to hide her concern from the rest of them. He holds up his finger, that he’ll need one minute.

Ira is still in the Mongolian restaurant. He’s groaning, absolutely stuffed. “At first it was so good. And then… I kept eating, because I was worried… I think I’m more Mongolian food than man, now. Everyone okay?”

“Yep. And I have experience with this,” Barry says. “I’ll get you a cab, to a hotel. I can bring the missus to you. Cause if I move you… well, you’ll empty the contents of most of your GI tract all over both of us, and you’ll never really get the smell out of your clothes, or your nostrils.”

“Your experience? Your dad?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. But I’m not making that mistake again. Just, take it easy. No sudden movements.”

He heaves. “Don’t mention movements.” He heaves again, and we cut to black.

We hear Flash say, “Oh, God, I couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.”