No touching. The first and most important rule that was explained to everyone after you joined the Suicide Squad.

Rick felt like he'd seen a lot of things, and nothing could surprise him anymore, especially after meeting Killer Croc. What could be stranger than a crocodile-like mutant? Oh, he was wrong. You, Amanda Waller's new find, are a metahuman.

You caught Waller's attention when you were on trial for a murder that couldn't be blamed on you. Two years ago, after the Star Lab explosion that released large amounts of dark matter, many people gained special abilities, including you. A gift that became your curse.

One accidental touch from you, even a fleeting one, killed. The doctor who examined you merely touched his fingers to the bare skin on your wrist to check for a pulse, and that was enough for him to die in an instant. You were on trial for his death, which was not your fault, but who cared?

Amanda Waller was thrilled, because you'd make a great addition to the Suicide Squad. You didn't need a weapon on the battlefield, you were the weapon. And you agreed to join them instead of a prison sentence.

From then on, outside of missions, you were required to wear a suit that covered your body from chin to toe and gloves made of a special material. Touching through this material wasn't lethal to those around you, but the entire Squad avoided you anyway, not trusting someone who could kill them by taking off a glove and just touching them.

You were an outcast even among the outlaws that made up the squad. Rick often spotted you in various secluded corners of the base, sitting alone, as beautiful as you were miserable.

"You shouldn't be here," he said softly, once again finding you sitting on the edge of the base's roof, looking out at the setting sun.

The sadness in those big eyes of yours made his heart clench with sympathy every time.