DCU Flash #9 The Snowman (Rebirth)

Crack!

 

"Daddy, no!"

 

Leonard hit the ground hard. His cheek was set aflame, tiny droplets of red leaking from his lips. Lewis, his father, stood above him, his fist balled tightly.

 

"You shut the fuck up!" he yelled, his opposite hand pointing at Lisa, Leonard's sister. The girl sat crying, a fainter red mark on her cheek. "When I'm done with this little fucker, you're getting punished."

 

Leonard jolted up, ramming his small fist into his father's stomach. "Don't touch her!" he yelled, tears running down his swelling face. "If you do… I'll kill you!"

 

"Why you miserable…"

 

Crack. Crack. Crack.

 

Hours passed after Lewis' rampage. Leonard had suffered multiple injuries from the man; a black eye, a busted lip, and paintball-like bruises riddling his stomach. Lisa had taken far less of the attack, only receiving a small bruise on her cheek.

 

The girl was currently curled up next to him, her cheeks stained with tears. Leonard had calmed her down enough after the incident, singing her to sleep.

 

He couldn't sleep, however. His eyes needed to stay open at all times. He never knew if he'd need to be awake to save his sister from the maniac, so he kept awake, no matter how tired he truly was.

 

-^-

 

"I'm not playing around, Lisa," Lewis yelled, jolting up from the dinner table. "You're gonna go to that boy and apologize, you understand me? Whatever the hell he wants, he's gonna get!"

 

"He was forcing himself on me!" Lisa snapped back. "I wasn't going to sit there and… and let him…"

 

"You sent him to the emergency room cause clawed his damn eyes out, you stupid bitch!" he said, walking towards Lisa. "You're lucky he's not pressing charges, as long as you do what he wants!"

 

Lisa cowered as Lewis stood over her. She had grown up and learned some self defense from Leonard… but she was still a fourteen year old girl.

 

Smack.

 

Her body dropped to the floor, the mark of her father's ring now imprinted on her red cheek.

 

"Daddy, please…"

 

"You wanna be a tough girl?" he asked, undoing his belt and folding it into a weapon. "Let's see how tough you really are."

 

Lisa raised her arms to block the hit, but the sound of the door opening caused both to freeze.

 

"What the hell?"

 

Leonard stood in the doorway dressed in his work uniform. He was small for a sixteen year old, but his eyes were burning with anger.

 

"What the hell!?" he repeated, dropping the toolbox he was carrying.

 

"I-I-I-Its fine, Leo," Lisa said, forcing a smile. She could see the rage in her brother… a rage that wouldn't end well for him. "I-I-I'm fine."

 

"You're finally back," Lewis said, side-eyeing Lisa. "Find anywhere that'll be an easy enough run?"

 

"What are you doing to my sister!?" Leonard asked, walking towards the two. "Well!?"

 

"Don't try and act tough, Leo," Lewis said, turning his full attention to Leonard. "A fine, wealthy gentleman wanted to take your sister here somewhere nice. This bitch had the audacity to claw his damn eyes out!"

 

Leonard's head snapped to Lisa, a worried expression appearing on his face. "Blaine?" he asked, Lisa nodding her head lightly. "That son of a… I'm going to kill that sick bastard."

 

"The hell is wrong with you?" Lewis yelled, pointing the belt at Leonard. "That bastard's rich! Your sister passed up the opportunity of a lifetime!"

 

"He was trying to r-ra…" Lisa said, shuddering at the word.

 

"Put the damn belt down, now," Leonard said, Lisa shaking her head violently for him to stop.

 

"Oh, ho ho, Leo," Lewis chuckled. "I thought you'd finally gotten the lesson through your dense ass skull that you aren't shit."

 

"Try me."

 

Lewis charged forward, the belt ready to crash down against Leonard.

 

"Daddy, no!"

 

Bang!

 

Lisa's eyes widened, her hands shooting to her mouth.

 

Leonard stood firm, his right hand extended and holding a revolver. Lewis had stopped in his tracks, a trail of crimson running down from the center of his chest.

 

"L-L-Leo..." Lewis said, his voice trailing off as blood began to deep from the corners of his mouth.

 

"I told you…" Leonard started, staring at Lewis' body as it toppled over, "I'd kill you."

 

-^-

 

"There was a call reporting a gunshot from your home, Leonard," Detective Joe West said, sitting across from Leonard in the CCPD Interrogation Room. "Your father was dead when we got there, your sister with a bruised cheek, and you with a 357 in your hand. It isn't too hard to put together what happened."

 

"Congratulations, detective," Leonard said, clapping his hands, rattling the cuffs around his wrists, "you can do your jobs."

 

Joe's mouth curved into a frown. "I understand that… topics like these can be difficult to go about… especially with a stranger," he sighed, leaning forward in his chair, "but I want to make it clear, I'm going to do everything I can to help you. No child should have to go through what you have been.

 

"I was able to get your sister into a good home," Joe said, finally gaining Leonard's attention. "The charges pressed on her for attacking Travis Blaine weren't easy to work around, but she's in good hands."

 

"Who are they?" Leonard asked, sitting up fully in his chair. "What do they do? What neighborhood are th-"

 

"Hey, it's okay, relax," Joe said, placing a family photo on the table. "She'll be moved in with the Bivolo family. They're good people, they own a nice book store downtown. They even have a son her age."

 

Leonard's shoulders relaxed, leaning back in the seat. "That's… that's good," he said, eyes shifting down to the photo. "You'll make sure Blaine doesn't try anything?"

 

"I don't think he'd ever try anything again," Joe said, with a slight chuckle. "Not unless he's looking to be a pirate."

 

"Funny…" Leonard responded, a slight smile appearing on his face."Thank you, detective…"

 

 

"I wouldn't ever want one of my boys to go through what either of you are," Joe said, placing the photo back into the folder. "I'm gonna help you any way I can. I promise."

 

-^-

 

"Leonard Snart, meet your cellmate," the officer said, pushing the 16 year old forward. "Play nice… or don't."

 

As the cell door slammed behind him, Leonard watched as the person on the top bunk shifted, hopping down in a swift motion. The boy stood about 5 inches taller than Leonard, his mass much larger to go with it. He had short, nearly buzzed brown hair and light burn marks running along his exposed forearms.

 

"Names Michael, friends call me Mick," he said, eyeing Leonard down. "You look young to be in here."

 

"That's because I'm not supposed to be," Leonard responded, not intimidated by his cellmate's stature. "You look like you're pretty young yourself, Mick."

 

"Thought I said my friends call me that," Mick said, his eyes narrowing.

 

"Thought we'd be friends," Leonard responded, walking past Mick and sitting down onto the bottom bunk. "If not… well that would make the next couple years a lot more irritating."

 

Mick grunted, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "So, what got you in here? Like I said, you look pretty damn young."

 

Leonard nodded, laying back on the hard bed. "You're right, I'm only sixteen," he confirmed, staring at the top bunk's underside. "Shot my old man… bastard had it coming, but murder's still murder."

 

"Hm, guess the justice system failed both of us then?" he responded, leaning his head back against the wall. "Got what the doctors call Pyromania, pretty insatiable. I tried to keep it in check, I'd make small campfire's when I could, just trying to watch the flames… wasn't ever enough."

 

"You end up burning something?" Leonard asked, turning his head to look at Mick. "Or someone?"

 

"Not intentionally…" Mick mumbled, his head hanging. "It's… fuzzy, I don't even remember what I did… I just remember sitting outside on my dad's truck bed… I remember how the fire fought the wood and danced with the air… until nothing but ash was left."

 

"You'd think Pyromania would get you sent to a psych ward, not Iron Heights. Guess you're right about the justice system," Leonard said, sitting up from the bed. "I take it your…"

 

"Seventeen… burning your family alive doesn't really sit too well with them, freak obsession or not," he said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "Killing your dad… seems like something that could've been worked with though."

 

"It… was supposed to… there was a detective from the CCPD who was planning to help me through this, get me parole, even," Leonard explained. "I only learned this morning that his wife was murdered a week ago…"

 

"So the bastard left you high and dry?"

 

"I don't blame him," Leonard answered, looking at the small photo of him and his sister he held. "He mentioned he had kids… I commend him for putting those he cares about first in his life. I'd do the same. Every. Single. Time."

 

"Snart."

 

Leonard blinked, looking up from the glass, ball shaped object in his hand.

 

"Find anything useful?" Mick asked, leaning on the doorway of the backroom. "Colors and I found a couple pistols, but that's it."

 

"Actually," Leonard started, placing the glass object down and picking up a folder. "I think I have… the Weather Wizard."

 

"Mardon?" Mick asked, walking into the room and looking over Leonard's shoulder. "He didn't leave a backup of that stick, did he?"

 

"No… but these schematics he left are more than simple enough to read," Leonard said, flipping through the folder. "I can't rebuild the weather wand, I don't think Mardon had enough equipment for any backups… but I might be able to use these and create something just as good."

 

Mick snatched the folder, quickly flipping through the pages. "Simple to read…" he said, tossing the folder back to Leonard. "The first page is nothing but trigonometry. Need anything from me and Bivolo?"

 

"Actually… those guns you found might be useful."

 

"Got it."

 

Leonard looked back at the schematics, picking up a marker from the box and pulling the cap off with his mouth.

 

"Well then, let's get started."

 

Building Montage Song Link (because that's what would be the next section of this :P)

 

-^-

 

Roy stepped into the backroom that Leonard had been in for the past eight hours. Mick had gone in and out of the room throughout the day, but had been told to leave each time. Leonard had finished now, calling Mick and himself into the room.

 

"So… you made firearms?" Roy asked, looking at the two weapons on the workbench. "I think you may have… miscounted how many of us there are."

 

"Not exactly," Leonard said, picking up the smaller weapon, handing it to Mick. "Try it out."

 

Mick looked at the weapon in his hand, then to the makeshift dummy across the room. "What's the canister for?"

 

"Just shoot the gun, Mick."

 

Mick narrowed his eyes, pointing the gun towards the target. As he pulled the trigger, a funnel of flames fired from the weapon's muzzle. Mick's narrowed eyes widened, his finger leaving the trigger, watching as the dummy was set ablaze.

 

Roy stared in awe, not noticing Leonard pick up the other gun, firing a blue beam at the dummy, freezing it solid. "That's… an ice ray? And a pocket flamethrower?" Roy asked, looking between the two weapons.

 

"Mardon's schematics are brilliant," Leonard said, taking the flamethrower from Mick and placing both weapons back on the bench. "It wasn't easy, but I was able to convert his temperature technology into a cold gun and a flamethrower."

 

"Leonard, that's incredible!" Roy exclaimed, a frown stretching across his face quickly after his praise. "Your creativity is astonishing… but, what about me?"

 

Leonard smirked, walking around the room to a few stands with black cloth strung over them. "These weapons obviously play with temperature, luckily," he began, pulling off the sheets, "Mardon created a suit for himself to withstand said temperatures. He left behind the materials he used, so I did a little sewing."

 

Mick walked up to the all black suit with neon highlights, his eyes narrowing at the design. "You want me dressing up like a firefighter?"

 

"The bases he used for his costume seemed to be bunker suits," Leonard explained, walking over to the baby blue suit. "figured the aesthetic worked well enough for you, Mick."

 

"So you care about aesthetics now?"

 

"Times are changing, Mick. In a city with people like The Flash and Weather Wizard, a trio of bank robbers won't cut it." Leonard grabbed the flamethrower once more, handing it to Mick. "So it's up to you; you want the suit and flamethrower, Heatwave?"

 

Mick smirked, taking the gun from Leonard's hand.

 

"Leonard, what. About. Me," Roy said, standing with his arms crossed and staring at the exchange the two had.

 

"Don't worry, Roy," Leonard reassured, pulling off the final sheet. Roy tilted his head, staring at the onesie on display. "You'll be using those special powers."

 

"What?" He asked, stepping back. "Leonard, I'd advise you not to make jokes like that."

 

"There weren't enough parts here to make a third gun, so it was tough," he began, taking off a black gauntlet from the suit, "but the temperature and weather schematics were able to help me make these. Conductors that can filter your powers, all while surviving the heat of lightning, force of windstorms, and the cold of blizzards."

 

Roy opened his mouth, but was too shocked to speak. His eyes locked onto the gauntlet as he exhaled loudly. "A-are you sure?"

 

"Am I ever not?"

 

"Okay… but what now?" Mick said, flicking his helmet's visor up and down. "What's the plan, Snart?"

 

Leonard smiled, picking up his cold gun and firing it at the dummy once more. "Now? We end the Flash."

 

NEXT TIME: A New Year's Eve Brawl, Flash vs The Rogues!

Done