Warning: Profanity.

A/N: Contrary to what many harsh critics have said, Suicide Squad was not a bad film. It was a step in the right direction for the DC Extended Universe. It's by no means perfect, but, dammit, it was a fun summer film. My reaction aside, I felt the sudden urge to continue the tale of Deadshot, one of the film's most developed characters tbh.

The chaos occurred when he read his precious daughter's letters in his cell.

As thunderous booms emerged, all of Belle Reve's alarms blared, and hoards of footsteps stomped in the direction of the disturbance, it didn't take Floyd too long to realize that shit just went down.

What went down exactly, he could only imagine. He had a lurking suspicion that a certain Task Force X member had found her way out, but he shrugged it away. Floyd didn't live off guessing; he lived off certainty. (Besides, her clown-ass, would-be savior was presumed dead and gone.)

However, his semi-unfounded suspicion was confirmed true the next day. He all but pressed his ear against the wall as two of Belle Reve's guards chatted outside his cell.

"Damn, I still can't believe that deranged circus act escaped last night."

"Yeah, and because of the Joker. I can't believe I lost a bet."

"I thought he was dead."

"I thought so, too. It's like the bastard's immortal or something. Either way, he cost me money."

A wry smirk appeared on Floyd's face as he threw blows at his punching bag. Trust me, he'll die if I shoot his pasty ass.

Harley, he'd never shoot her. Not only did she fall under his "no women and children" policy, but he also—dare he admit it—grew fond of "dollface" during their brief time together. The girl was zany as hell, breaching off-her-meds territory, but some of his moments with her hinted that she was more emotionally complex and compassionate than she led on. That demented cheerleader-esque front that she put on for Gotham, Belle Reve, Midway City, and the rest of the world to see—it was as disposable as Floyd's white mask. Just a facade for the job.

He sparred harder.

But the Joker? If given the right reason and the freedom from Belle Reve, Floyd would shoot his "delusional, annoying-laugh-having, white-boy behind" in a heartbeat. He'd worked for plenty of shady and downright dirty people in the past, but the Joker reeked of arrogance and self-proclaimed grandeur and other qualities he wouldn't quite fuck with. To make matters worse, a rumor had been circulating around that the Joker killed Batman's young protege. Sure, Floyd had his own agenda against the Dark Knight, too, but he wouldn't place children in harm's way. It was uncalled for and eternally out of the question.

His fist crashed against the leather.

And if the Joker decided to regard Harley as his own punching bag instead of a plaything, he could expect Deadshot to come for him without mercy. Floyd would do it for her. He'd be her hitman.

A softer punch landed against the object.

Was he disappointed that "dollface" had left again? Of course. He was disappointed the first time when she'd sprinted (or rather strutted) towards the Joker's hijacked helicopter. Now was no different.

A realization set in, though.

I'mma let dollface do whatever puts the wind in her crazy-ass sails.

At least she was free from prison (for now); she was the only one of Task Force X who possessed that luxury. She was with someone who made her happy. The relationship between her and the Joker didn't appear to be love in its traditional sense, but she did have someone she cared about.

And Floyd did too. His daughter would always be the only lady in his life.

He brought his hands and their throbbing knuckles to his sides, opting to sit on his bed and finish his baby's letters. She was his light.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. Keep in mind that I actually did not mind the Joker's portrayal in this film. I'm not bashing him; I'm simply accounting for Deadshot's perception of him.