Sucker For Pain ⇒ SUICIDE SQUAD [RICK FLAG] [#1] [COMPLETED]

08 || A Son?!

❝So if you have a minute, why don't we go

talk about it somewhere only we know

this could be the end of everything, so why don't we go

somewhere only we know?❞

Somewhere Only We Know ~ Lily Allen

___

After a few good hours of trying to summon the Enchantress, Rick and Sierra had given up, placing her heart back in the vault located somewhere in the base. It was the most frustrating part about the whole ordeal, especially when they worked their asses off trying to get the artifacts.

As soon Sierra got off the phone with her most trusted ally and vigilante-turned-superhero, she was back in the briefing room with the squad and the other soldiers from the base. They all sat in their respective seats, most with an evident hangover from the night before.

"Okay, guys!," Rick clapped his hands to get their attention.

They all winced at the loud sound coming from his actions. Even Sierra slightly winced at the ringing in her ears after the fact.

"C'mon, Flag," the Joker hissed, "your grape of a brain should understand that not all of us are up to par."

"Grape?," Sierra muttered, rubbing her ear, "More like a raisin."

"You better watch your tone, Keller?," he snapped at her.

"And you better watch your volume, Flag," she mocked.

Flag turned his head to the side, looking back at the small crowd of people in front of him in annoyance, "Last night you all had a blast, but now it's time to get back to work. We have to get down to the nitty gritty's of this whole plan, evaluating and analyzing everything of our tactics."

"How about we take five, get some Advil, and a few glasses of water each?," Sierra pipes up.

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Harley groaned as she got up and walked out of the room with the others.

Rick shot Sierra a glare, but she couldn't care less at the moment. She turned her back to him, approaching the little backpack on the small table in front of her. She unzipped the side pocket and good out two Vicodin tablets and her bottle of water.

"Those don't look like Advil's, Keller," Rick pointed.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," she rolled her eyes as she placed the oval-shaped pills in the palm of her right hand and gripped the bottle with her other.

"Those are prescription drugs, and they're strong opioids," he comments, "And I'm sure you don't have any chronic pain."

"Do you consider a hangover as chronic pain?," she sarcastically asks.

"No," he responds.

"It was a rhetorical question, Flag," she rolls her eyes.

"I don't think you should take those," he slowly grabs her wrist, gently squeezing it in his palm.

"You have your remedies and I have mine," she drops the bottle, tossing the pills in the air and catching them in her other hand. She quickly shoves them in her mouth, grabbing her opened bottle and taking two swigs.

"It's not a remedy," he remarks, "It's called 'an addiction'."

"Calm your man-boobs, Flag, I'm not a pill-popper," she sighs.