Pinoy Suicide Squad

It is 2018, exactly two years since the President took his oath, and the people of the Philippines have had enough of his platitudes and promises for change. Riots have broken out in the streets and television sets, newspapers, books, and magazines have been piled together and burned. “Death to traditional media! They are the government’s lackeys!” the people cry.

Thanks to the Internet, the critical, the aware, and some self-proclaimed intellectuals have realized that politcos  — it didn’t matter which political party they came from  — merely repeat the same lines each time they face their constituents. Also thanks to the Internet, once criminal and repulsive people have effectively been able to revise their pasts, make themselves look like victims, and finally win the hearts of the people.

“Release our heroes! They are not criminals!” the people sing. “Things were so much better during the time of Janet Lim-Napoles!”

In an attempt to win back their constituents’ sympathy, the current administration has decided to rip off the plot of the hit Hollywood franchise Suicide Squad: Their plan is to release the ones they had jailed before, with a mission to run after others who needed to be jailed. To the masses, the circular argument makes sense. “Perhaps these criminals know of other criminals who are more criminal than they are, and once we arrest those criminals  — the ones more criminal than these criminals  — maybe we’ll be able to really bring our crime rate down,” said the President at a press conference. He sweated profusely at the podium. Obviously, he didn’t know what he was doing.

Tropang Tiwakal

“This group of vigilantes will be called Tropang Tiwakal,” he announced. “We attached tracking devices to their necks which will explode if they disobey my orders.” The President then said that these were surplus tracking devices — the ones that they thought of attaching to buses on EDSA to catch them if they were driving out of the yellow lanes — and that he knew very well that these didn’t work.

At the end of the press conference, as the applause and the clicking of cameras drowned out the glorious entrance music, the members of Tropang Tiwakal were revealed. They walked out of Camp Crame, old faces; faces nobody thought anyone would see ever again in the flesh.

Janet Lim-Napoles was out of her wits, literally smiling from ear to ear. She would now be called Harley Quinn. A bearded Jinggoy “Erap Jr.” Estrada emerged in a barong with bullets strapped and crossed over his chest. He would be called Captain Boomerang. Andal Ampatuan Jr., was wheeled out with a mouth collar a la Hannibal Lecter, his head wrapped in his infamous red “Lacoste” bandana. A tag on his chest identified him as Killer Croc. Bong Revilla Jr., who thought of reprising his look as hardcore vigilante, “Alyas Pogi,”, instead limped up the stage (in protest for all the hospital requests the Sandiganbayan never granted him), and announced that the media should now refer to him as Deadshot. Rounding up the roster was Juan Ponce Enrile, still alive and kicking well into his 90s. He was made-up like an espasol. He had a sinister smile on his face. “I am the Joker,” he said.

“The missions of Tropang Tiwakal will be commanded from a base in Veteran’s Memorial Hospital by none other than ex-President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo,” the current President said. “Her codename is Amanda Waller. She is well-equipped as she knows very well the idea of ‘the end justifying the means.’”

Great Change

Since Tropang Tiwakal began their operations, a great change has come about in Philippine society. While petty crimes have increased tenfold (due to the “encouraging environment,” assessed the PNP), big-time crooks have been sent to jail. Corruption cases have reached record numbers at the courts. These were slapped on members of the once-untouchable oligarchy, and even their dead ancestors. The poor, petty thieves, on the other hand, have scooted free; a true redistribution of wealth has occurred. And whenever the Tropang Tiwakal — dubbed by the media as “The T.T.” — struck, they spray painted their logo onto the scene of the crime. You can guess what that is.

“With nothing left to live for, it’s only right that we drag people with us to hell,” said Juan “Payaso” Enrile, the most brilliant member of their group, in an interview. “The joke, really, is on the government. These bombs on our necks will explode, anyway, the moment I try to do something less exciting than this. As long as it doesn’t kill me, then it simply makes me… stronger.” And with that, he laughed mischievously. 

Janet Lim-Napoles, though hopelessly indebted to the Payaso, started to realize that, again, the old man’s rhetoric was right, and that she might as well spill the beans. And so she did; she “finally let the voices in her head speak.” She teamed up with Andal Jr. and planned a grand massacre of the corrupt in the concrete jungles of Metro Manila.

Mass Murder

At a field in BGC, poles were planted, and tied to these were thousands of the Philippines’ corrupt officials, businessmen, hacienderos, mediocre writers, bad actresses, etc. Past Presidents weren’t exempted from the purge. The cold-blooded mass murderer Ampatuan was able to build the killing field with the help of ex-Senator Jinggoy, who had been holding grudges since the days his father faced impeachment. The T.T. planned to burn all their hostages alive and had prepared backhoes with which to bury their victims right after.

But in a rare display of insight, Bong Revilla asked his companions, “If we’ve got all the bad guys here, then shouldn’t the President be blowing our heads off now? What will they do to us after all this is finished?”

So behind closed doors, the T.T. plotted to disarm the President and add him to the public cookout. They successfully executed their plan with hundreds of the President’s guards brutally laid to rest. And after their toils — burning thousands alive was no mean feat — the six of them sipped wine at an abandoned condo-mansion in Taguig. “Not guilty!” they cheered as they clinked glasses. Indeed, no one among them has ever received a guilty verdict for the corruption charges brought down on them.

But as they gazed at the vast, smoky, and chaotic landscape they brought down on Metro Manila, they wondered if the bombs on their necks really worked, and was it so hard to detonate them that the President failed to foil their assault? Right at that moment, their T.T. line rang.

“Hello,” a thin voice from the other line said. “It’s Macoy. Is the reception clear? I’m here at an island in Hawaii.”

Payaso stood up from his chair. Grinning, he said, “And we still wonder why the bombs never went kaboom?”

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