Ryan has a bad habit of implanting terrible thoughts in my head at bad times. He didn't have any definitive answers either, which made this so much worse. So, now, while I get to be a display piece for Ricky at this conference, I've got to be thinking about all this shit in my head. Turns out that crazy bitch in Georgia was right; I am not the Devil, but I did fuck him. The real question is what the fuck am I?

There's too many questions going without answers. Yet, Ricky expects me to be able to act like there isn't a damn thing wrong. I know how to put on a poker face. Doesn't mean I want to do it. It took me forever to fall asleep last night and as soon as I did, I had to wake up. Fuck this whole getting up at normal people times thing.

I understand he brought me here partly because I'm his wife. He wanted us to be able to get away and have time as a couple. However, his main reason was to finally bring a member of the Suicide Squad to one of these meetings. Apparently, I was informed last night, that in Paris several people were criticizing him for not doing so. You'd think highly intelligent agents from around the world wouldn't want to be in a room with serial killer.

Honestly, I don't really want to be here. Me probably more than them. I might be dangerous but I'm not stupid. Some of the men and women in this room could easily shoot me dead in two seconds. Ricky would most likely turn around and kill them, but that wouldn't bring me back from the dead. He told me as long as I behave myself, I'll be fine.

If he wanted to bring someone from the group that would behave, why the Hell did he choose me? Granted, Chris and Kuza are a little... out of commission right now. Angelo can't leave Chris and Ryan has to oversee their treatment. Twiggy and Manson are a little too new to the group for something like this. Which only really leaves Vinny, who is still a man child, Balz, who's a little too... harsh looking for this, and then Ryan-Ashley. She probably wouldn't want to leave Josh anyways either. I guess I was the only option. If things weren't the way they were, I would've suggested Ryan come.

This whole situation has really fucked a lot of shit up. I'm going to try to be a good girl, for Ricky's sake. I don't want to embarrass him. Luckily he didn't make me dress too fancy, despite the fact that he had to wear a suit. I'm sure they don't expect him to walk in with a perfectly groomed man. They probably also aren't expecting a goth tranny but eh, no one ever is.

"Your ass looks so good in those jeans." Ricky told me as we rode down in the elevator.

"Thanks, babe." I replied, smirking, "They look better on the floor."

He smiled and kissed me, "Trust me, I know. When we get back to our room tonight, I'm going to-" Ricky was cut off by the ding of the elevator. He quickly pulled him hands off my hips and cleared his throat like nothing happened.

Michael stepped on the elevator, looking hungover as fuck. Two other agents walked in behind him. He couldn't help himself from taking a good look over me.

"You look tired." I said to him.

He drew in a sharp breath, "Yeah... Worth it."

I snickered under my breath and resisted saying anything else. The rest of the elevator ride down was silent. Funny how easily one minute can feel like ten. Once we reached the floor the conference was being held on, I'll admit that I did get a little nervous. I'm used to being the one that just shoots shit and gets covered in blood. All the politics and papers side of it is Ricky's responsibility.

He stayed at my side closely. Whether that was to comfort me or to keep me at bay, I really didn't care. I was just happy he was being protective of me. We walked through a large door, straight into a room staring at us. This was uncomfortable and intimidating. Ricky continued to walk to his seat. I got too caught up in getting glared at by thirty people for my feet to work. Michael put his hand on my back and pushed me on. I glanced back at him, offering a smile as my way of saying thank you.

They sat me between them. It was obvious I was being watched closely. For the first time, I wasn't angry about it. I tried to hold my head up high and keep my back straight. The air was still, almost like we were frozen in time. They started the meeting up. I wasn't really paying much attention though. It was boring worldy leader shit that I didn't care about. The translator whispering to us was getting rather annoying too.

I started to drift off it was so fucking boring. Ricky poked me with his pen and I jumped back awake. "We'll get to the fun part soon. I promise." He whispered in my ear.

At first I took it as a sexual innuendo. About ten minutes later, I came to the realization he meant something else. A man who could actually speak English took the helm of the table. His Scottish accent was extremely thick but I could make it out. "Today we will be revisiting a topic that came up at the Paris conference. The America's attempt at... utilizing dangerous criminals as some form of... soldiers."

"Excuse me, agent Macleay, but we prefer the term specialty team." Ricky spoke as he stood up, "A soldier is mindless, told where he is to go, what to do, who to shoot and how to shoot it. My team," He smirked as he walked around the table, "Well, they're teaching me new things every day. They see the world differently than we do. I can guarantee everyone in this room became an agent because they had an agenda. You had parents to impress, you wanted the money, you wanted the power, you wanted to prove you could do good, you had a guilty conscious to clear.

Whatever it may be, there is something in us that makes us pause for a split second before we pull the trigger. That second could be the matter of life and death, and we are faced with those moments everyday. However, that does not exist in them. Their lack of hesitation, their ability to ignore morals, has turned them into living weapons. That is a defense you cannot create in lab and you cannot build in a factory.

Recently, they've become our most important asset. As some of you may know, we have been experiencing unexplained supernatural events throughout our country. The only ones with the ability to stop them so far has been the Suicide Squad. These events have showed no sign of stopping and it's only a matter of time before they begin in other countries."

"Is this supposed to be some attempt at convincing us to get our own group of misfits?" A cranky looking blonde woman bitched.

He snickered, "No. At the Paris conference, I was met with a lot of criticism. You all believed I was hiding them away, that I did not believe in the words I was saying, that I didn't believe in them. I'm here to prove that's bullshit, and I'm going to show you why you should not be doubting them." Ricky subtly signaled me to come join him. I stood up and began to walk around the table as he talked.

"I would like to introduce you to one of the most lethal members of the team. He is easily the most infamous; Devin Sola, AKA The Ghost Murderer. He lost his mother when he was five, causing his mobster father to raise him. At thirteen he killed a man for the first time, and at fifteen his father was murdered. From there, his death toll started to increase at a rapid rate. In July of 2014, his eleven year killing spree finally ended and he was captured.

In the time that he managed to evade the law, he had killed over two hundred men, women, and children. In 2016, he became the mastermind behind one of the biggest prison breaks in history. Once again, he created a trail of bodies across the US until he was captured in Washington and brought into the Suicide Squad. He's led countless successful missions in the past three years.

Now, I'm going to shut up and let him show you what he can do. Try not to flinch." Ricky leaned over and whispered to me, "Remember what you did to those guards in Graham? Right after I had come there?"

I slyly looked at him out of the corner of my eye, "When I lost my mind because I realized I was falling for you? Yeah."

"Is that why you did that?" He asked with a little humor in his voice, "I want you to do something like that for me. If you're a good girl, maybe I'll buy you some new ice."

I laughed quietly, wishing I could kiss him. We have to keep our relationship a secret to protect the group. If they knew Ricky and I were together... I don't want to think of the things they'd say and do. Ricky walked over to a door, separate from the one we came in. He opened it and guards brought in several cuffed men.

"I dared each of you to bring your worst. I hope you took me seriously. I want you to tell them if they can kill Ghost, they'll be granted their freedom and citizenship in America." He instructed them.

Though there are nearly 200 countries in the world, only about fifteen were represented at this conference. I've killed armed guards with my bare hands. Killing unarmed criminals with a gun and switchblade available? Is Ricky trying to make this too easy for me? Each of them spoke in their own tongues. Alright, I might not know ten languages like Ricky, but I do know Spanish. And I caught the words, "Matar a la puta" Translation? "Kill the whore". Try me, bitch.

It is a nice room. It'll be unfortunate to ruin this carpet with blood. Ricky's looking to prove a point and I'm going to put on a show for him. The second they were told what was at stake, they were fast to try to take me down. All of them running for me at once just caused them to trip over each other. This is what I get to kill to show my ability? Why don't you bring back the exorcist bitch?

I twisted out of the way of hands trying to grab me. In that split second, I pulled my gun from my waistband and loaded it. One, two, three, four, five headshots... Someone jumped on my back and tried to pull me to the ground. As we both went down, I shot up at the chandelier above us. He pinned me to the floor and began to choke me. I smiled, watching the lighting fixture fall through his back.

In efforts to get to me, a muscle head threw the dead weight off of me. Remember what Bane looked like in the original Batman movies? Where he was super muscular? Exactly what this monster looked like. I believe he was the one ordered to "kill the whore" as well.

"Tiempo de morir, zorra." He spat. in English, "Time to die, slut." Oh, so now I'm a whore and a slut? Is this how he treats his women?

I told him in his native tongue, "You couldn't even fuck me in your dreams."

He attempted to step on me. I hopped back to my feet, blowing the brains out of another man trying to run at me. Eight left, including the Goliath. Though this felt like a long time, it's been possibly sixty seconds. Time moves slower when you're murdering. The muscle head grabbed my wrist, plucking my gun from my fingers. They're all so goddamn stupid. I pulled my switchblade out from my back pocket and sliced open his neck. He was quick to let go of me then.

I turned around and plunged the blade through the eye socket of a younger man. It was deep enough to have gone all the way back to his brain. Six more. I saw my pistol on the floor but it got kicked under the table. Oh, you shouldn't have done that. Now you're just going to make me mad. I leaped at the asshole who dared to play dirty. We both went flying back onto the table top. I'm not sure I have the adrenaline to break another jaw but I'll sure as fuck try.

It's like snapping a twig to me. Ricky makes such a big deal about it, that normal humans shouldn't be able to do that. I'm not a normal human and I was able to easily break that fucker's jaw. His skin began to rip around the mouth area. He won't be having an open casket funeral. I grabbed a bottle of liquor off of the table and tossed it into one of the other men. As I walked down the table, I stole the cigar lighter of one of the agents. Then I tossed the flame at the alcohol drenched man, setting him ablaze.

I jumped down from the table and grabbed the top of the broken bottle. It fit nicely into one of the other's eye sockets. You know, I have a thing for going for the eyes. I've just realized that. Perhaps we can go for another, hm? I decked a Asian man and kicked him through the window. Only three left, and they're still trying to kill me at this point?

Two of them grabbed my arms and attempted to throw me down on the ground. Once I got down there, I swiped out both their legs. Then I stood up myself and stepped on one's neck like I was crushing a soda can. The other tried to scurry for my gun that was under the table. I pulled my switchblade out of the other guy's eye and drove it through his knee. The final one I grabbed by the hair and slammed his head into the table repetitively. Since a knife to the knee won't kill anyone, I decided to put the fucker out of his misery. Plus, I wanted my switchblade back. I managed to pull the blade out, then broke his neck.