Creature commandos

The transport hummed steadily, its cold, metal interior cloaked in heavy silence. General Rick Flag Sr. sat at the front, his eyes scanning the team he’d been saddled with. They weren’t soldiers—they were monsters. The Bride sat motionless, her patchwork features illuminated by the faint glow of Dr. Phosphorous, who radiated an unsettling, molten light. G.I. Robot stared ahead, unblinking, while Weasel twitched and muttered to himself in the corner. Nina Mazursky leaned against the wall, her aquatic features marked with unease.

This was Task Force X, the Congressional-mandated non-human version. Rick was the sole exception, a grim overseer forced into this after his son, Rick Flag Jr., died in Corto Maltese. He clenched the detonator in his pocket, the device that could drop every one of them if they stepped out of line.

The transporter jostled, shaking them all. Rick exhaled and cleared his throat.

“Alright, listen up.” His voice cut through the engine’s hum. “I know none of you want to be here. Frankly, I don’t either. But we’ve got a mission, and if we fail, people die. A lot of people. That includes you.” He let his words hang for a moment.

“We’re heading to Pokolistan. Circe and her Sons of Themyscira are staging a coup. If they take over, we’re looking at global fallout. Your target is Circe. Secondary objective—keep Princess Ilana Rostovic alive. She’s the only one who can stabilize the region.”

His eyes swept the team. “I don’t care if you like each other or me. But when we hit the ground, you will work together. If you don’t, this mission fails, and so do you.”

He leaned back, his tone growing colder. “Any questions? Or are you all ready to shut up and do your jobs?”

The silence lingered, broken only by the transporter’s hum. Rick had seen this before—resentment, fear, and the bubbling chaos that came with it. He knew Waller had put this team together for a reason, but he doubted it was anything good.