Motorcar Diner, Central City, 1998
"The question you need to ask yourself is: What kind of hero are you gonna be? Are you just gonna take a do-over every time you make a mistake, or will you live with them… and move forward?"
The young man's shoulders slumped a little, and he let out a heavy sigh. "I guess I've got to move forward," he said bitterly. "I'd… better go…"
He slid off his chair and walked out of the diner. The older man remained in his seat, smiling in satisfaction when he heard the trademark whoosh of a speedster taking off.
"I knew you could be nasty, but wow. That was like watching someone kick a puppy to death."
A grinning Damien Darhk took the empty seat across from the older speedster, who just chuckled and pulled a long, cylindrical device from his jacket packet. He pushed a button, and Jay Garrick's features melted away, replaced by the younger face of Eobard Thawne.
"That's a handy little thing," Darhk said.
"Facial Transmogrifier," Thawne said, tucking the device back into his pocket. "Picked it up over on Earth 19. Made a few modifications so it alters sound waves as well as light waves, so you sound like the person you're impersonating."
"It worked well enough to fool the Flash."
Thawne chuckled again and shook his head. "Doesn't take much for that. Barry's gullible. Tends to take people at face value, and when the face is his late father's? That makes it even easier to feed him some mumbo-jumbo about messing with the timeline."
Darhk picked up his coffee cup. "Like your analogy of the space-time continuum as a coffee cup?"
"I thought that sounded pretty profound," Thawne said. "And it was at least partly true."
"The best lies usually are," Darhk observed. "They say the devil can cite scripture…"
"For his purpose," Thawne finished, pointing a finger at the other man. "Exactly. I did tell him the truth: Barry can't fix everything in the timeline himself. But time is a lot more malleable than a coffee cup. It wants to happen. He can undo some things, sure, but the overall picture winds up staying the same. It's just the little details that end up being different."
Darhk frowned. "If that's true, what difference does it make whether or not he goes back?"
Thawne smiled darkly. "It doesn't. But thinking he can't fix things will keep him off balance, and that's just what we need. Little disruptions to distract him and keep him from seeing the big picture."
"So that will work for this 'Team Flash' you mentioned," Darhk said. "What about our Legends?"
"There's a reason I chose this diner," Thawne said, rising from his seat. Darhk followed him as he walked to the end of the lunch counter, where a dark-haired young man—a kid, really, no older than the Flash—was picking at a plate of food and listening intently to the police scanner behind the counter.
"It won't work out," Thawne told the kid, leaning against the counter casually. "Alexa's planning a double-cross, and you'll end up dead."
The young man's head jerked up, and his blue eyes swept over both men with a laser-sharp glare. "Don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"Come off it, Snart," Thawne said. "You're planning to hit the Security Deposit offices. That's why you're listening to the police scanner instead of music like a normal guy your age."
Thawne looked back at Darhk. "Hmm… what are they listening to these days?" When Darhk shrugged, Thawne said, "Let me think… 1998… Back Street Boys, Madonna, LL Cool J… wait a minute. I bet you're a closet Mariah Carey fan!"
Snart jumped to his feet. "What the hell do you want?" he hissed, going nose to nose with the speedster. "Who the fuck are you and how do you know my name?"
"Language," Thawne said sharply. "I know the same way I know you and your pal Mick won't make it out of that job alive. I know your future, Leonard Snart. I've been there already. Let me demonstrate."
Thawne disappeared in a flash of red lightning, then reappeared a second later. He pulled a newspaper out of his jacket and handed it to Snart. "Next Friday's Central City Picture News. Check out the top story."
Snart looked down at the paper, his eyes widening as he read.
"The story will change if you call things off," Thawne said. "Just like Marty McFly's picture in 'Back To The Future.'"
Snart looked back up at Thawne. "How'd you get this?"
"Told you. I've been to the future. Now, like I told you, drop the Security Deposit job. You'll live longer."
Snart's gaze turned wary. "And why are you telling me this?"
"It's a favor, because I'm going to need one from you someday," Thawne said. "Not for a while, though. I'll let you know when it's time to repay me."
He leaned a little closer to the younger man. "And if you give me back my wallet right now, I'll pay for your lunch with no strings attached."
Snart rolled his eyes and handed back the wallet. Thawne smiled and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out, giving it to the young thief. "Good. Now remember, call off the job."
He turned to leave the diner, Darhk behind him. Snart called after him, "So when am I gonna hear from you?"
Thawne turned back. "When you've had a chance to grow up a bit," he said, and walked out of the diner.
He led Darhk to the alley behind the diner, where the Time Sphere was waiting for them. "So, Mr. Thawne, what's so important about him?" Darhk asked as he climbed into the vessel.
"Why, Mr. Darhk, he'll be our distraction for the Legends," Thawne told him.
Darhk raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Hm. So what's next?"
"We need one more distraction. I'll explain when we get to 2007."
Thawne began to circle the Sphere, opening a rift. He disappeared through the portal, and the Sphere followed.
Leonard Snart crept out from behind the dumpster where he'd been watching the two strangers. He took another look at the newspaper Thawne had given him, with its headline of a disastrous heist at the Security Deposit offices. The story listed the names of the six dead.
Including Leonard Snart and Mick Rory.
Leonard stuck the paper into his jacket pocket. If Thawne was telling the truth, the story would change once he told Mick they were out of it.
And if it was the truth, he'd have to figure out how to deal with these mysterious strangers who wanted to use him as a distraction.
Leonard Snart would never be anyone's puppet.