From Page One of this article, then:

A secondary roster of semi-"known" Squad regulars; an appreciably more shadowy cabal of measurably... ummmm... welllllll... harder-edged individuals, who might not as readily blanch at the prospect of (again, say) the occasional international law adroitly sidestepped; or (if warranted) even the occasional throat cut, if needs must.

This "shadow" team performs an absolutely essential secondary function, as well: that of convincing the occasional suspicious super- snooper (e.g.: Oracle; the Batman; Cameron Chase; etcetera), if necessary, that they've "discovered" the Squad's deepest, darkest secret...

... which, of course, is precisely what the Squad's mysterious and unseen brain trust wants them to believe, of course.

Our elected-and-anointed "B"-team, then, should be comprised (ideally) of individuals who have just a wee little bit less to lose, in terms of reputation; of compromised ideals; and (if needs must) their very lives, pursuant to their assigned and accepted charter.

Unlike our (comparatively) bright'n'shiny "A"-team, in other words -- which the observant reader will have already intuited was sans any out-

and-out super-villains -- this bunch has a few bona fide former bad guys worked into the mix...

... as well as a few borderline psychotics, come to think.

1.) THE CREEPER

Various and sundry DC Comics scribes have taken turns interpreting writer/artist Steve Ditko's signature '70s character as being anywhere from two fries short of a full "Happy Meal" to damn-the-torpedoes-and-

devil-take-the-hindmost whack-a-ding-hoy.

Even taking the kindest, most charitable long view of journalist Jack Ryder's personal SQ (Sanity Quotient) imaginable, however...

... boy howdy, but this was one seriously sick'n'twisted li'l spandexed puppy dawg.

Our designated "B"-team is almost certainly -- given the demonstrably more dire nature of their assigned missions -- going to take a correspondingly higher level of collateral damage, all other things being equal; so, the Creeper's hyper-accelerative healing factor is a hugely desirable bonus, insofar as these things traditionally go. That's one.

He's a quasi-suicidal lunatic, by nature; rendering Mama Ryder's favorite son uniquely well-suited to serve as selfless soldier on the shadowy front lines of the Squad's secret "war." And that's two.

... and, finally: he's precisely the sort of operative a narrow-eyed and disapproving Batman or Superman would frigging expect to find cloistered within the cutthroat confines of a group the (deservedly) infamous likes of THE SUICIDE SQUAD, upon initial (or even secondary) investigation; making it all the more unlikely -- their worst suspicions (seemingly) confirmed -- that they'd be much inclined to investigate deeper or further...

... and that's a big, big, BIG three, right there.

WHAT HE BRINGS TO THE PARTY: He's a super-freak; a super-freak; he's super-freaky, yow, yow. Temptations sing -- !

Sorry. Sorry. Unca was just having himself a quick Rick James "moment," there, is all.

Seriously, however: asked and answered, people. Asked and answered.

2.) DEADMAN

... because, ultimately: what better "suicide" soldier, really, than one who's already... ummmmmm... ahhhhhhh...

... well: already suicided, actually. I s'pose.

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: ... yeah, yeah: Unca knows that the inimitable Boston (Deadman) Brand wasn't actually a suicide victim, f'chrissakes. It was just a joke, all right? Work with Unca, here, people.)

This is another one of those blindingly right and natural "fits" with the whole SUICIDE SQUAD-type thang, insofar as Unca is concerned.

I mean: you wanna talk the stone perfect reconnaissance agent? [NOTE: Deadman is, like... whaddyacallit... invisible.]

You wanna swap names, re: the very last word in double agentry? [NOTE: Deadman can... y'know... take over people's bodies, an' stuff.]

You wanna debate over which existing DC Comics characters can take the biggest, meanest licking, and keep right on ticking...? [NOTE: Deadman isn't merely "dead"; he's really most sincerely dead.]

In short, then: we're talkin' primo SUICIDE SQUADer on the freakin' hoof, here.

Too: there's just something so absurdly delicious in the notion of a SQUAD roster "regular" whose very existence may very well be doubted by one or more of his more naturally pragmatic and/or obdurate teammates, right from the very git-go

WHAT HE BRINGS TO THE PARTY: ... what? You mean you want more -- ?

3.) JACK

4.) THE KING

No, no: just listen for half a bloody sec, awright...?

Former members of the frequently mocked (and not without good and sufficient reason, one might add) Royal Flush Gang crime cabal: one-

time low-level gigolo Jack and down-at-the-heels confidence trickster the King were both the lucky beneficiaries of radical conceptual makeovers, courtesy of husband-and-wife writing team Barbara and Karl Kesel -- renowned, singly and together, for their landmark work on such titles as HAWK AND DOVE and SUPERBOY -- within the pages of NEW TITANS #68 and #69, back in 1990.

The King was (rather cannily, in Unca's estimation) as the fortunate possessor of the vanishingly rare "meta-gene": a splendid DC Comics concept of the latter day, which has since fallen (alas) into comparative disuse; a genetic sort of "Joker's Wild" which, when triggered -- whether by accident or design -- boons or banes its respective recipient(s) with Powers Beyond All Mortal Ken, and yadda yadda yadda.

In the King's royal case, said bio-genetic anomaly resulted in a baseline inability to decently die, regardless of torture or trauma; rendering the genial grifter, fittingly enough, the one "card" within the aforementioned Royal Flush Gang plainly incapable of being "trumped" by adversity. (Like Unca said: darned canny, really.)

Jack, by way of comparison, fared rather less well, overall. Having one eye abruptly (to say nothing of agonizingly) removed by the team's employer/benefactor of the moment ("The Jack of Spades," said bankroller coolly posits, in mid-dispatch, "is a one-eyed Jack."), he ends up sporting a glittering, gimmick-y cybernetic prosthetic; capable of (as the old saying goes) staring great, gaping holes in the walls, a la a potent, hidden laser.

Plain and unvarnished, then: these two characters -- one nakedly reveling in his newfound inhumanity; the other, seething with self-

loathing over it -- are simply too blamed waycool and nifty to spend their remaining allotment of four-color minutes loitering and lollygagging about with the sorry likes of the Royal Flush Goobers for even one moment longer.

I'm just sayin', really, is all.

WHAT THEY BRING TO THE PARTY: Weird, wonderful abilities. Rich, untapped veins of characterization, well worth the mining. And don't even get Unca started on how much he digs those crazy, ALICE IN WONDERLAND-inspired costumes -- !

5.) MAN-BAT

Another one of those terrific, twisted DC Comics characters whom scarcely anyone has ever had much of a notion with, really, since their initial conception. (You see a whole lot of those, given sixty or seventy years of consecutive publishing and a decent handful of reasonably clever writers.)

Star-crossed scientist Kirk Langstrom -- who (at various storytelling stops along the way) has been posited as a mindless, ravening night- thing; an inherently innocent man-beast; and even, briefly, a low-grade and fledgling super-hero -- ups the tragedy quotient for our projected "B"-

team, quite nicely. (Big "T" tragedy always being A Very Good Thing, Indeed, when talking about hard-edged crime/adventure fiction, in general; and about a group willingly referring to themselves as "the Suicide Squad," in particular. You've all been taking notes, here, right...?)

Given his own auctorial druthers: Unca would cheerfully play mean-

spirited and lowdown games of every shape, size and color with Master Langstrom's communicative abilities and intellect; perhaps allowing these to wax and wane, unpredictably, as a less-than-desirable side effect of his "bat serum's" homebrewed efficacy. (The better to help explain, ultimately, the widely disparate "takes" on said character, over the years; as well as allowing for wider storytelling latitude, overall.)

Creeper. Deadman. Man-Bat. (... and at least one other fellah, whom we have yet to talk about, amongst ourselves. Yet.)

If nothing else, then: if the whole "Suicide Squad" thing ends up being a bust for these guys... they could always make a "go" at it as a reconstituted Creature Commandos.

WHAT HE BRINGS TO THE PARTY: Unca Cheeks' Rule For Super-

Hero Comics Storytelling #17: "... you can never, ever have too many Tragic Characters taking up space on your team's roster. Never. Ever."

6.) THE PIED PIPER

Lookit: Unca was right about those two guys from the Royal Flush Gang, wasn't he...?

A former member-in-bad-standing of the original Flash's "Rogue's Gallery" -- and one of the least effectual ones, at that (no mean feat, that, when you're talking about a cabal including the sad and sorry likes of the Golden Glider and the Top) -- spent an inordinate number of four-color years as a complete and total comics non-entity; flatter (conceptually speaking) than the business end of a kitchen spatula, and about as exciting, dramatically, as a late September ball game between the Houston Astros and the San Diego Padres...

... right up until the precise moment, that is, when (then-)FLASH scripter William Messner-Loebs had said character casually drop the bombshell of his sexual preference, before a wholly flabbergasted Scarlet Speedster.

The Piper has been convincingly retired from all things criminal, for some years, now; even (on occasion) lending a dab hand to the Flash's own crime-fighting efforts, whenever so dictated by brute necessity...

... but, c'mon: this is simply too durned good a character, ultimately, to leave all but languishing in the outermost circles of Supporting Character Hell...

... and: it's not as if we're ever likely to see an ongoing PIED PIPER comics series, within our lifetimes. (I mean: not with a name like "the Pied PIPER," f'chrissakes -- !)

As stated, previously: a skillful enough writer can always find a good enough reason for virtually any character to hook up with an outfit as clandestine and machiavellian as the Squad, really. (An old debt owed, from his costumed criminal days? A loved one, needing the extra-legal sort of "help" only an outfit such as the Squad can ably provide? Blackmail? Duress? You see how this sort of thing is done, then.)

WHAT HE BRINGS TO THE PARTY: In the immortal words of SUICIDE SQUAD scripter John Ostrander, elsewhere on this site: "I wanted to show not only racial diversity, but diversity within the race."

Inclusion of the Pied Piper within the SQUAD's ranks would go a long, looonnnnnnng way towards following in the honored gent's storytelling footsteps, ultimately...

... and, 'sides: just think of the possibilities, characterization-wise.

The most appealing and sympathetic fellah on your team...

... and he's... well... you know

7.) THE RAGMAN

Another born SUICIDE SQUADer, if ever Unca blamed saw one, by jingo.

Forevermore bound by the karmic dictates of ancient Talmudic law, bookish and inoffensive "junk shop" proprietor Rory Regan finds himself serving in involuntary stead as the modern-day equivalent of the fabled Jewish "golem"; a remorseless and implacable plague upon the houses of those who would traffic in evil and despair.

The "rags" comprising our young tatterdemalion's costumed identity are (ultimately) as unyieldingly single-minded as they are weirdly sentient; fashioned from the agonized souls of prior malefactors, they continually torture and tug at young Regan not only to punish... but (ultimately) to murder those adjudged guilty, within their psychic purview (!!).

Now: just imagine what sort of storytelling mileage one might get out of a SQUAD member who's very nearly as great and terrible a threat to the majority of his own teammates as he (demonstrably) is to the opposition.

Like Unca said: el primo SQUAD material. Obviously.

WHAT HE BRINGS TO THE PARTY: Unca refuses even to grant that question the dignity of an answer, f'chrisaakes.

... and: there's our "B"-team, entire, then.

Again, in emphasis: the existence of said costumed collective is kept a closely guarded secret, of course.

(Do the members of our aforementioned "A"-team even know these whackos are out there, I hear you ask? Well: Unca wouldn't let 'em, fer shure, fer shure. Too blamed many of those guys -- Argus; the Knight; and Wildcat, if no one else -- might reasonably be expected to object to the existence of ANY team including such well-known former felons as Jack, the King and the Pied Piper gadding about the outermost peripheries of the law [written or otherwise], whilst operating under the same group name as their own assemblage. But: it could be made to convincingly "play" either way, I s'pose.)

These are the ones who get trotted out whenever the governmental "game plan" of the moment best translates as "WANTED: Dead or Alive... If Possible."

Not stone killers, in other words; not the sort(s) involved in out-and-

out wetwork...

... but: definitely a "black ops" outfit, overall.

... and, again: the team intentionally assembled to serve as a sort of spandexed "double blind"; a sly, long-range situational shell game set up to bamboozle the humorless, "straight arrow" likes of (say) a Batman, an Oracle, or a Cameron Chase into believing that this is (ultimately) as awful as the modern-day incarnation of the Squad gets.

To keep them from investigating any more carefully or deeply, in other words.

News Flash, people:

It gets worse.

Much, much worse.

Let's turn our collective attentions towards Page Three of our little exercise in spandexed skullduggery, then...

... and find out just exactly how very much worse "worse" can bloody get, with Unca doing the worsening.

If that's even a proper word, I mean.

CHEEKS'CHOICE: "IF I RAN THE SUICIDE SQUAD..." (Page One)

CHEEKS'CHOICE: "IF I RAN THE SUICIDE SQUAD..." (Page Three)