Task Force X's + 1 (Suicide Squad/Percy Jackson Crossover)

Ch.1 Chow Time

Black Site

Terre Bonne Parish

Louisiana USA

The site lay on a marsh, worn down and gray from mis-care. It looked inconspicuous from the outside, maybe an abandoned prison or military base, maybe an old bomb shelter. Nothing of importance, just the shadow of a different time. It was too far out for the city kids to explore and looked so run down no civilians really bothered with it. To the government however, it was a jewel. The bottom of the pit. A Black Site completely off the grid and in their home turf. It made Maximum Security look like a kid's toy.

Upon entering the site, one would have to drive past miles of high and thick concrete walls. There were numerous types of electric fencing, no to mention the guns and cameras lining every possible vantage point. The only entrance point was from the sky or the Security Barracks. On the side of the wall closest to the fortified entrance gate lay a faded painting of the Grim Reaper clutching two prison bars. It's style was similar to that of gang graffiti. In large white letters with a black outline it said Welcome to Belle Reve. On the bottom banner below the reaper's prison bars lay the words Til' Death Do Us Part in yellow, followed by Special Security Barracks. On one side, there was a painted snake, coiled to strike. On the other side of the reaper, lay the Fleur De Leis. That mural was the only dash of color against the gray, aside from the aged red of spilt blood.

Numerous guards from various military backgrounds would patrol the perimeter, always in grouping of three or more, never less. They clutched their guns like old lovers, their black uniforms ominous in effect. There were numerous security offices and stations throughout the prison, but there was one which filtered all camera feeds.

A single guard sat at his desk, seven screens in front of him. Each screen had four different sets of security camera feeds, the images switching every few seconds. The man sat in his swivel chair, not really paying too much attention to the feeds. His desk was cluttered, an old Chinese takeout box to his left and numerous papers scattered about. It was a drab office. It seemed more like a spy station trapped in a basement or the hull of a ship. The walls were metal and asymmetrical, bars lining the perimeter and a small staircase leading to the door off on the left side. They had just stuck him up there and it was quite boring. Sometimes, he was jealous of the inmates, just because they had something else to do other than sitting and watching.

Take the prisoner he was watching for example.

The dude was never not moving. His cell was a concrete box and was as plain as plain could get, but he insisted on having something to box or fight with. Because there were no luxuries allowed, and the guards would rather use him as boxing practice, the prisoner came up with a daily ritual. After he had woken up, whenever that was, he would take the three strips of his sheet he had torn off and would tie up his mattress. By rolling it and folding it into a layered shape that resembled a cylinder, he made himself a punching bag.

He attacked that contraption with a savage vigor, hitting round after round, combination after combination. A right hook, a jab, and sometimes the odd kick every so often to spruce things up. Everyday, for hours on end, he would stand in the corner and fight. The guard looked up from the screens to look at the time. His lips curled into a savage smile as he saw the hour, and he changed his screens so he could watch the shows.

~~~

"Chow time!"

"It's time!" The guards yelled out as they yapped with glee. 

"C'mon Floyd, step up to the door. It's after dark! Dinner time!" the guards goaded. The prisoner finished one last round of punches before pulling back from the punching bag, his chest glistening with sweat as he stalked forward.