I know this took ages to update, but I'm hoping to update more regularly. Anyway, please enjoy and I don't own!

00000000000000000000000000

Someone has just fired a missile through the window.

The office is smoking and in ruins behind them, and Lex wants to kill whoever the 'assassin' is.

"Don't worry!" Bart chirps, sliding his goggles down his face until they're smoothly over his eyes. "I'll take care of it for you!"

Luthor pauses, then nods.

"Very well."

And Bart is gone.

He finds the guy about to enter the building, face set harshly and weapon gripped tight.

He's missing an arm.

"Hi!"

"Who the fuck are you?"

That's the second person to ask Bart that, though Conner was a lot less rude about it. Bart's not quite sure who this guy is, with his intimidating stance and eyes hidden behind a domino mask, but he seems interesting, so he guesses he'll happily answer him.

"I'm Bart!" he states, holding out a hand – that's what people do in the past, right?

The guy doesn't shake his hand. Bart is tempted to just grab his hand and shake it anyway, but the guy has a weapon – a very dangerous-looking one, too, and he's not quite sure that this person is someone he wants to mess with. Instead, he simply eyes the gun-type thing apprehensively and lets out a nervous giggle.

"Are you going to use that?" he asks uncertainly. The guy glances at it as though he'd forgotten he was even holding it, but then suddenly he's raising it.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, somehow managing to make an observation (and a very wrong one, at that) sound ominous. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"You mean, at Lex Luthor's place?" Bart raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "I could ask you the same. And, why you launched a missile into his office." He pauses for a second. "I was in there, you know. It's a good thing I was looking out the window, or else I would have died."

Maybe that was a little too much emphasis on the last word, but it seems to have worked, because the guy looks slightly guilty. It lasts for all of five second before his face is back to being stony-faced and stoic.

Bart wonders who he is. He'd heard Lex muttering about some person and a hospital when he was doing his paperwork, but he hadn't really been listening. Luthor was probably trying to do something that will help the Reach, and while Bart wants to know as much as he can, he figures that letting Lex know that he knows would probably not be a good idea.

But he digresses.

The point is, this guy is brooding and mysterious and interesting, and he wants to know more. Like his name, for example. That would be a start.

The guy's fingers clench tighter around his weapon. He grits his teeth.

"Why were you in his office," he grinds out, and grife, that wasn't even a question. "Who the fuck are you?"

Bart just smiles widely.

"I told you, I'm Bart," he states, rolling his eyes. "And I'm afraid I can't let you keep that weapon."

The guy blinks, and his weapon is lying three feet away.

"…You're a speedster," the guy finally says, looking like he's trying not to have an internal freak-out. It isn't really working.

"Yup." Bart pops the 'p', nodding enthusiastically. He feels like a bobblehead. "I work for Lex now." He tilts his head, curiosity shining in his eyes. "Are you here to kill him?"

"Wait a minute," the guy says, and Bart starts pouting because that really didn't answer his question. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"And what is it, exactly, that you're doing for Luthor? I mean, you're calling him Lex."

Bart grins, showing off his teeth, and it might just be his imagination but he's sure that the guy flinches.

"I'm his bodyguard!"

"Aren't you a little young?"

"Not really."

"Kid, you're like, twelve."

"Am not! I'm thirteen."

"Same thing."

"No it isn't!"

"Ahem." Someone clears their throat behind them, and Bart turns to see Lex Luthor standing with his briefcase. The villain cocks an eyebrow. "If the two of you are quite done?"

"Luthor," the guy growls out, narrowing his eyes and widening his shoulders. He's probably meant to look intimidating and it isn't really working, but Bart's not about to rain on his parade.

"Well, well," Luthor states, moving forwards slightly. "That's quite the arsenal you've brought tonight, Mr Harper."

Bart looks at the sky, and wonders when it became night.

"I don't care about what you've got to say," the guy – no, Mr Harper says, managing to look both incredibly calm and incredibly moded at once. Bart wonders how he pulls it off. "What I want to know, is what the hell you did to this kid."

Bart blinks, and realises that Mr Harper's only arm is pointing towards him. He frowns.

"Hey, I'm not a kid! And he didn't do anything to me!"

"Quite right," Luthor states, an almost-smirk settling on his face. And then he starts blabbering on about 'strength' and 'stratagems' and 'force of mind', which even Bart has to admit is starting to drag a little bit, and with each word Luthor speaks Mr Harper's face starts to get more and more annoyed.

"Can it, Luthor," he finally buts in, eyes narrowed threateningly. "Admit it, you did something to this little kid!"

"I'm not little!" Bart inputs, folding his arms – even though he is little and he knows it. He'd actually been pretty normal-sized in his time, but in the past apparently everyone gets more to eat, and, thus, Bart has ended up 'little'. "And I'm not a kid! I bet I've seen worse things than you ever will. Hold on. Forget I said that."

Wait.

Whoops.

Both men look at him oddly – Mr Harper with slight shock, and Lex with… not shock, exactly, but… interest? Either way, both looks are pretty moding.

"God," Mr Harper finally says. "Who are you?"

"Grife. Who are you?"

"I can't tell you!"

"Why not? I told you who I am."

"First of all, what you told me was so unbelievably vague it doesn't even count."

"How was it vague? It was my name."

"Second of all, it would seem you don't really care about identities."

"I mean, my name is literally what you asked for."

"I do care about secret identities. And I'm going to keep mine."

"Secret identities are so retro."

"Will you stop butting in?"

"We should get milkshake!"

"What?"

Both of them are staring at him again. Bart just grins and rocks on his heels.

"Milkshake! The three of us." Both continue to stare blankly. Bart puffs out his cheeks then exhales slowly. "This little confrontation is happening on the street, where it's cold and I'm standing up and Mr Harper's getting really wound up. And we didn't have milkshake where I'm from. It'll be perfect!"

The guy blinks. "Mr Harper?"

Bart just shoots him a look.

"That's your name, right?"

Mr Harper opens his mouth to say something else, but Luthor cuts in smoothly once again.

"Not that I would be opposed to the idea, but I'm afraid I still have paperwork to complete," he informs, that almost-smile still lurking by the corners of his mouth. "Though, I suppose if you two want to go ahead and do that, then it's fine with me as long as you're back within the hour."

"Great!" Bart enthuses, while Mr Harper just looks confused.

"Wait, I didn't agree to this -"

"Roy," Lex says, turning to Mr Harper. (And, oh, so that's his name.) "I have something for you."

'Roy' takes the briefcase that is offered to him, looking cautious.

"What is it?" he asks, eying it with distrust.

"Satisfaction," is all Luthor says, before turning around and walking back into the building.

Silence.

"So it's Roy, huh?"

000

Roy Harper isn't quite sure how he's been roped into this – he came here to enact vengeance and murder his kidnapper, and somehow he's ended up being dragged by the hand – at superspeed – towards the local café.

The kid – Bart, was it? – suddenly comes to a dead stop, whirling round with that superspeeded enthusiasm Roy has sometimes seen in Kid Flash. Bart grins widely, looking slightly embarrassed as he does so.

(How is it possible for one person to smile to widely?)

"I don't… actually know where the nearest café is," the kid sheepishly admits. He perks up pretty quickly, though. "Do you know where there is one?"

Roy blinks, because he's still caught up on his fucking vengeance, the vengeance he's somehow managed to let slip through his fingers, and for some reason he's still got a hold of this goddamn briefcase, which is probably booby-trapped or something, but to be honest he hasn't got the time to worry about that now because the kid is in his face.

"Hey Ro-oy," he sings out, big eyes blinking widely behind his goggles. Roy blinks, too. "Are you okay?"

"…I'm fine," he finally manages to get out. "I think there's probably a café round here somewhere."

The kid grins yet again, and begins dragging him along.

"Well, I'm sure it won't be that hard to find. And then we'll have milkshakes and we'll talk and it'll be fun!"

Roy can't remember the last time he had fun. Certainly not at any point during the past eight years, encased in ice, unfeeling. There were no opportunities for 'fun' there.

But, still. He's not so sure that having milkshake with some weird kid will be his definition of fun, either.

"What's your surname, anyway?" he eventually asks because he's gotten nothing better to do. The kid doesn't even hesitate before answering.

"Allen."

"Allen. As in, Barry Allen?"

"Uh huh. I'm his grandson."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"Why would I be kidding you?"

"So… you're from the future, or something?"

"Yeah. It's totally crash!"

Roy can't even deal with this right now.

"I can't even deal with this right now."

"You don't have to deal with this right now. You can deal with this while we're having milkshakes."

"…Alright."

God. What an obnoxious kid.

But, to be honest, Roy kinda does now want these milkshakes.

00000000000000000000000

Thanks for reading, and please review!