They stopped at the first bar that seemed appropriate, some dive in one of the worst parts of Central City. It was the type of place where even someone like Mick Rory looked down on the people inside it. Those people were mostly drug addicts one hit away from a fatal overdose, alcoholics who wouldn't be served anywhere else, and people who just needed to disappear. As he stood at the bar, listening to the classic rock blaring out of the old juke box in the corner and his back up against the bar itself, he looked around, and he didn't see one ounce of self-respect – the perfect place to have a drink where there was no chance of running into anyone he or the other legends crew knew and would be forced to answer questions they didn't want to answer.
The bartender tapped him on the shoulder, letting him know his order was ready. Mick turned, threw some cash on the bar and grabbed the tray with eight full shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey to refill them when they were emptied. He walked back to the table he and the rest of the team were seated at and set the tray in the middle. Each person grabbed a glass and set it in front of them.
"Remind me again why we are at an establishment such as this?" Professor Stein asked as he set his shot in front of him. "As far as places to hold a wake, this seems…not the kind of place Mr. Snart would have frequented."
"I'm with Grey," Jax voiced, holding his glass. "I feel like I need a shot of antibiotics more than whiskey just sitting here."
Mick grunted and just glared at the youngest legend. "We're here because Snart never set foot in here in his life. And in the year we're in right now, tonight specifically, me and Snart were sitting in lockup after the Flash caught us after a showdown with him. Can't risk being seen sitting in Snart's favorite bar and setting off an APB."
"Mr. Rory's correct," Rip said, and then went silent from his agreement. He often still found himself surprised at Mick's knowledge of the way time worked, though it was refreshing having someone on board now who understood what was coming out his mouth. "Though if I had known you were going to gather us for this impromptu ceremony, I would have dropped us in a much more accommodating time."
"This place works just fine," Mick responded.
"Yeah, besides, I've been in worse bars than this," Sara added. Rip and Stein looked at each other and shot a look of bewilderment at that statement.
"Can we just get to what we're here for," Mick interrupted. He lifted his glass and waited for everyone else to join him. "To Leonard Snart, best damn thief I ever met, and the brother I never had."
There was a chorus of Snart's name said, though Rip and Stein both deviated with a "Mr. Snart" rather just his last name. Each member tipped their shot toward the center of the table before slamming down their whiskey. There were a few faces made from the burning the spirit gave them, and a few laughs at the way Jax seemed to feel that burn more than anyone else. "That right there Junior is why Snart didn't let you go with me and Blondie to that bar in the 70s," Mick joked while pouring himself another shot.
The team laughed and Jax just told Mick to pour him another shot. "Don't hit the stuff too hard there, Jax," Ray said, "Don't forget, in this year you're barely what, eighteen?"
"Just turned nineteen," Jax corrected him. "And I can handle myself just fine. Pour, Mick."
Immediately a choir of oohs and other taunts sounded at the table at the way Jax seemed to be daring Mick. Mick grinned at Jax and then poured him another shot. "Drink up, Junior."
Jax slanted his eyes at Mick, grabbed the glass and slammed it back, once again his eyes widening at the burn. The other team members laughed once again, but Sara, Carter, and Kendra applauded the effort while everyone else started to cheer while still laughing.
"Hey, keep it down," came a voice from one of the neighboring tables.
"Shut your hole," Mick shouted back without looking.
"What the fuck did you say to me?" shouted the unknown voice again. This time Mick could hear a chair scrapping across the floor. Seconds later he felt the presence of someone standing behind him. Mick just poured himself another shot and drank it. "I said: what the fuck did you say to me?"
"We don't want any trouble," Carter said in a misguided attempt to deescalate the situation.
"Don't make wanna kick your ass too pretty boy," the voice threatened. "Now I'm gonna ask again. What did you –"
"I told you to shut your hole," Mick answered gruffly.
"Get up and say that to my face."
"Mick, you don't need to –," Kendra started.
"Shut it, bitch," the voice said.
"Hey," Carter answered for her. He started to get up when he saw Mick motion for him to stay down. The team watched as he poured one more shot, slammed it, and then got up from his chair.
When Mick came face to face with the speaker, he almost laughed. The guy was nearly a half foot shorter than he was, and looked like was barely a hundred and fifty pounds. No wonder no one else at the table looked concerned. As much as the guy gave up in height and weight, Mick realized he made up for it in stupidity since he didn't look like was intending on backing down.
"Go back and sit down. We're just having a few drinks to honor a friend, and I, for some reason, don't feel like hurting anyone right now."
Mick watched as the stranger brought his right hand up and saw the switchblade in his hand. The guy pushed the button and the blade sprung out. "Say that again," he dared Mick.
Mick was about to say something to the little twerp when, out of the background, he heard the lyrics from the song currently playing.
You want paradise
But someday you'll pay the price, I know
I've seen it before
It happens all the time
Closing the door
You leave the world behind
Mick smiled. This one's for you Snart, he thought. Without saying anything, the team watched Mick wind his arm back and then deliver a punch to the smaller stranger. He fell to the floor and stayed there, knocked out. They then heard other chairs scrape across the floor and watched as four more guys, friends of their knocked out interloper no doubt, got up and started walking over. Sara leapt from her chair immediately, joined soon after by Carter, then Jax, Palmer, and Kendra. Stein rolled his eyes at the trouble that he knew was coming before standing himself. And Rip just got up to help and, half dreading the thought of the bar fight that was undoubtedly about to occur, had one thought:
It simply doesn't matter what year we're in, these people can never go to a bar and just drink.