Chapter Text
“Die Piggies!” Mick bellowed and sent a wave of fire down the hall towards the security guards. Len bit his tongue, and was glad when all of the men successfully dived for cover. He finished icing the alarm sensor to the safe and then had the door open in five seconds flat. Sweeping a mess of small gold bricks, coins and ingots in to the duffel bags he'd brought, he tossed one to Mick and heaved the other over his shoulder.
"Clock's ticking." Len nodded to his partner, who sent another flaming blast down the corridor to clear their path. The guards, too cowed by the initial show of firepower didn't try to follow. Len figured they had about ninety seconds before the men recovered enough to dial 911. And then it was a three minute and fifteen second delay before the nearest police could get to them. Len had the getaway car just out the door of the Central City Bullion Exchange - seeing it, Mick was less than pleased.
"Really? A freakin' minivan, Snart?" He snarled as he climbed into the driver's seat and tossed his bag in the back. "We won't be able to outrun anyone in this piece of crap."
“The police aren’t going to chase a dad stopping for diapers in the middle of the night.” Len pointed at the box so prominently sticking up in the back window. “We don’t have to run from anyone. Just drive normal.” Len didn’t add that he didn’t want to be trying to steer his motorcycle while juggling fifty pounds (at least) of gold. He added as an afterthought. “Seatbelt.”
Mick grumbled but buckled up, and they were soon on their way. It was the fastest, cleanest, easiest payday they’d had in so long, and Len settled back in his seat to savor the satisfaction. They didn’t hurt anyone. They’d gotten away with it. And most of all, they hadn’t gotten the Flash involved. Perfect, perfect, perfect.
Not that Len didn’t want to see Barry. Len wanted any and every opportunity to bask in Barry’s wonderful presence. Especially since he was still riding all the proud affection from Christmas. (The picture in the paper of the two of them shaking hands had been Pulitzer Prize worthy. Barry had already framed it and hung it on the wall next to his Family Justice Tree.) But lately, date nights had not been plentiful – Felicity had wound up paralyzed from an attack, (sadly not having any healing powers) and Barry had been making some extra trips to Star City to check up on her and offer Oliver back up. (Len supported the former, but not so much the latter. However, complaining about it would rapidly chip away at his hero-ing brownie points, so he'd decided to remain silent on the subject.)
Barry had also dealt with another Meta with particularly pesky abilities just a few days ago. Apparently making drugs to boost Barry’s speed wasn’t enough for Team Flash, they’d decided to go hunting for ways to slow down Zoom as well. So it had been someone’s genius idea to send Barry after a thief (without consulting Len, or asking for his help!) who had Meta powers that could slow people down like he could control time itself.
Which predictably, had gotten Barry hurt more than once before he’d saved the day. (Then and only then had he mentioned all of this to Len.) Mainly because there’d been some distress that the man had died mysteriously before they’d gotten him into police custody. Len was going to have to start offering Team Flash a consulting fee. Or see if he could get Hartley to hack into Barry’s suit’s GPS. Just to keep up with what his darling Scarlet might be needing at any moment to stay the fuck alive.
So, Len managing to keep this crime quiet was a favour to all of them. He was spending quality time with his partner, he was making some money and he wasn’t putting any stress on his boyfriend. This was a damn good night.
They hit an isolated stretch of highway and Mick floored it, crowing about their victory. After they got the loot stashed away, Len would go with him to Saints and Sinners. He’d been blowing Mick off too much lately, spending the time instead focusing on Barry. It was good to rebalance the scales.
No wild chases. No need for intricately layered plans in the case of superheroes that moved beyond human understanding deciding to put them in a time out. Just him and Mick and the underqualified security guards standing in the way. Just like old times.
So confident that the police didn’t know where they were, the Flash wasn’t on his way to ruin their night, Len did the worst thing he could have done.
He relaxed.
Settling back into his seat, watching the pools of streetlight fly by, he didn’t notice the bearded man in a trench coat step into the road until he was right in front of them. Mick hadn’t either, stomping on the brakes with a bellow of fear and nearly flipping the minivan in an effort to not turn the jackass into road pizza. They spun a clear 360 degrees, missing the man by a wish and miraculously not killing themselves either.
When the van finally stopped, Mick laid on the horn without even pausing to take a breath. “Motherfucker!” He roared, pounding on the steering wheel. “Who’re you trying to kill?”
The man turned slowly, reaching under his coat. A terrible sense of foreboding crawled across Len’s skin, as the man carefully made eye contact with both of them and smiled.
“Mick,” Len called out warningly as he grabbed for the Cold Gun.
Instead of producing the gun Len imagined, their would-be hood ornament pulled out a fucking barcode scanner? What the hell did he think he was going to do with that?
“Nice to meet you, gentlemen. We have a lot to talk about.” The man tapped the end of the scanner’s light source. “Look here, please.”
It was pure human nature. Or stupidity. They both looked.
And an insanely bright light filled the car, blocking out the world. Everything disappeared into the intense beam, until Len closed his eyes and let himself be swallowed the dark.