THE RAIN pelted down heavily as they approached the fallen helicopter. Freya's wet hair stuck to her cheeks as a breeze whipped it around, her clothes completely soaked, her wet jacket heavy on her body. Pulling the hair from her face, Freya stepped up to the helicopter, sliding the door open.

"There's nothing here." She said, looking around. It was empty of any people, not even any soldiers who may have died in the crash. Floyd stopped next to her, looking up towards the sky.

"Let me guess — we're going to the big, swirling ring of trash in the sky? You know, 'cause why wouldn't we?" Floyd asked, already knowing the answer. Rick stared at Floyd in silence, only reinforcing what they already knew. "When does this end, Flag?" Floyd asked again, but simply stayed quiet, glancing over at Freya, who crossed her arms over her chest. She narrowed her eyes a bit, staring him down.

"Load up. We're in for a fight." He said, averting his eyes from Freya's stare. Freya turned, looking through the helicopter one last time, trying to find any evidence left. She pulled out a bag, finding a binder labeled 'Top Secret' inside. She flipped it open, eyes scanning over the documents inside. Freya felt anger flare up inside her as she snapped the binder shut.

-•-

Freya furiously stormed through the group, her eyes landing on Rick. She swiftly threw the binder, narrowly missing Rick, before it slammed against a car. Rick turned, staring at her in confusion.

"You tell everybody, everything." She hissed out. "Or me and you are going to have some problems." She hissed in anger, her eyes flashing a dangerous orange. Rick looked down, taking a deep breath before addressing them.

"Three days ago, a non-human entity appeared in the subway station." Rick began, and Freya stood with clenched fists, getting angrier at every word that came out of his mouth. Waylon grabbed the back of Freya's jacket, pulling her back away from Rick. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, and Freya's hands relaxed slightly, no long clenched so tight that her knuckles were white. "So Waller sent in me, and a woman with incredible abilities — a witch. See, nobody could get near this thing, but the witch could." Rick explained, making Harley frown. She didn't know what this 'non-human' entity was, but judging by the state of the city, it certainly wasn't good. She leaned slightly against Freya, who wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders. "Needless to say, the whole thing was a bad idea." Waylon growled, and it was then Freya's turned to lay her free hand on his shoulder, calming him slightly. "And that's how she escaped from Waller. So now you know." Rick finished, causing Floyd to step forward.

"You can just kill me right now, but I'm gonna go have a drink." Floyd said sharply, gesturing to a bar, before he began walking towards its door.

"Hey, Deadshot, I need your help." Rick called after him. Floyd barely turned around, narrowing his eyes at Rick.

"No, sir. You need a miracle." He replied, before pushing open the door to the bar, and disappearing inside. Everyone slowly began following Floyd into the bar, until Freya was the only one left. Rick looked at her pleadingly, but she shook her head, following Tatsu inside.

–•–•–

Harley poured everyone drinks as they settled into their seats. Everyone besides Waylon sat at the bar, awaiting whatever Harley slid towards them.

"Here's to honor, among thieves." Floyd said, grabbing the shot glass Harley had placed in front of him. He clinked his glass to Freya's, before turning to Tatsu.

"I'm not a thief." She said simply, before turning, and walking away from him.

"Oh, she's not a thief." Floyd whispered, making Freya smile a bit, shaking her head. Floyd shrugged a bit, downing the shot. Freya did the same, hardly noticing the burn as it slid down her throat."Well, we almost pulled it off. Despite what everybody thought." He began, setting the shot glass back down onto the bar. "Worst part is, they're gonna blame us for the whole thing. They can't have people knowing the truth. We're the patsies, the cover-up. Don't forget, we're the bad guys." Floyd said with a look of disappointment. From next to Freya, Chato frowned. "For about two sweet seconds, I had hope." Chato scoffed at the words, shaking his head.

"You had hope, huh? Hope don't stop the wheel from turning, my brother. It's coming back around for you." Chato said almost bitterly. Floyd glanced at Freya, who shrugged in response, taking another drink from Harley. "How many people you killed, man?" Chato asked Floyd. The question made Freya pause, slowly lowering her glass to the table.

"You don't ask nobody a question like that, ese." Floyd shot back, but the response didn't make Chato stop there.

"You ain't never whacked down no women. No kids." He continued, not taking his eyes off of the hitman. Floyd shook his head.

"I don't kill women or children." Floyd said sharply. Freya had the same rules, something she and Deadshot had in common. Chato — Diablo — lightly nodded his head.

"I do." The glass nearly shattered in Freya's hand as she snapped her head up in surprise. "See, I was born with the Devil's gift. I kept it hidden for most of my life, but, the older I got, the stronger it got." Chato began, and Freya felt a familiar pang in her chest, memories of her own childhood needling at the back of her mind. "So I started using it. For business, you know. The more power on the street I got, the more fire power I got. Like, that shit went hand in hand. You know? One was feeding the other. Ain't nobody tell me no." Chato explained to them. Freya understood what that was like — having the power over other people. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. "Except my old lady. You know, she used to pray for me. Even when I didn't want it." He opened his fist, a flame sparking up, taking the form of a woman, dancing in one spot. "God didn't give me this. Why should he take it away?" He paused, taking a deep breath. "See, when I get mad, I lose control. You know, I just, I don't know what I do." He placed a glass over the flaming woman. "Until it's done." Everyone was quiet as the fire died out within the glass.

"And the kids?" Digger spoke up from the end of the bar. Harley looked up at him.

"He killed them." She turned to looked at Chato. "Didn't you?" Tears began forming in Chato's eyes, and Freya placed a hand on his arm in comfort. "Own that shit! Own it!" Harley yelled, and Freya shook her head.

"Harley, hey, come on." Freya tried, but Harley simply glanced at her, not stopping.

"What did you think was gonna happen? That you could just have a happy family, coach little league, and make car payments? Normal's a setting on the dryer! People like us, we don't get normal." Harley shouted, gesturing to the entire room. Digger cut her off, scoffing.

"Why is it always a knife fight every time you open your mouth? You know, outside, you're amazing. But inside, you're ugly." Digger snapped, hand clutching a can of beer. Harley scowled at him.

"We all are! Except for him," Harley gestured to Waylon. "He's ugly on the outside, too." Waylon pulled off his hood, eyes narrowed.

"Not me, shorty. I'm beautiful." He said, voice rumbling in amusement. Freya laughed at that.

"Yeah, you are." Everyone was quiet then, and Freya reached into her jacket, pulling out the picture of her and Maya.

"I was gonna get married." She said, making everyone snap their attention to her. "I was gonna hang up my sword for her; for Maya. We were gonna have a small wedding, live in a big house, adopt some kids. We wanted that setting on the washing machine." Harley frowned, looking at the normally collected woman, now on the brink of tears.

"What happened?" She whispered, and everyone else kept quiet, listening intently.

"She died. I came home, and I was just in time to watch someone stab her. Just run her through. I was too late, and I held my fiancée and watched her die." Freya explained, the memory playing in her mind easily. Digger cleared his throat.

"Who was it?" He asked, prompting Freya to wipe away a stray tear, shrugging.

"I never knew a name, or a motive. But Waller does. She got him. The son of a bitch who killed my fiancée." Freya said, her grip on the glass in her hand become dangerously tight. Waylon spoke up from behind them.

"What did you do afterwards?" He asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I went back to how I was. I became a mercenary for hire. I was good at what I did, and then I got caught." Freya said with a pitiful shrug. Harley picked up the picture, looking at the couple.

"She's pretty." Freya nodded, smiling. Harley handed her back the picture, and the sound of a door closing made them all turn to look at Rick, who was standing there, a look of horror on his face. Wordlessly, he walked towards Freya quickly, before stopping abruptly in front of her.

"You're her. You're the one Maya told me about."