And thus it begins :)

Chapter One

One month earlier.

Usually, the trip home from work took Cisco either 15 seconds or 15 minutes, depending on if Barry was giving him a lift, or if he was taking the bus. Not a bad commute, all things considered, even taking the bus. The stop was only a block and a half from his apartment building, and while it wasn't exactly the safest part of the city, it wasn't the shadiest either.

But tonight, half the bus and subway system had gone haywire thanks to the latest criminal menace Barry'd had to deal with. Thankfully it hadn't been a meta, just someone with too much time and creativity on their hands with a not-so-healthy dose of craving revenge. Even with things mostly restored to order, the trains successfully back on track (literally) and all Station Master's-Cisco was going to need a better name for the guy, honestly, Iris, why-little tricks thwarted, the bus system was still screwed up. So that fifteen minutes turned into twenty-seven plus a detour to a stop 3 blocks away, and while it wasn't like Cisco hated walking, it had been a long day.
Hands jammed into his jacket pockets, he fiddled with the little screwdriver tucked inside one, the handful of paperclips in the other. Link, unlink, link again until there was a hopeless knot of them that would be impossible to undo by touch alone. Focusing on that, and not on how much his feet ached, or how much he desperately needed coffee, he didn't notice most of the familiar sights as he neared his building. The cracks in the sidewalk, the chalk drawings faded from a day's worth of feet, the way that one stupid lamppost kept flickering-all of it escaped attention. So did the figures in the alleyway two buildings from his front door.

Whenever something like the days events happened, there were usually two options for reactions-the city erupting with chaos, or people deciding to turn in early for the night and hope that the next day would contain fewer explosions. That was how it seemed on this particular night. Late-night storefronts still hummed with neon, but there were few people out and about, even this early after sunset, even with the buses still running. Cisco glanced up briefly, then looked back at his shoes. Half a block, three flights of stairs, then relax with netflix, he told himself. Or hot shower. Or both. No, wait, bad plan. Haven't waterproofed the tablet.
He felt a hand on his shoulder bag strap and yanked away instinctively-today of all days, he was not in the mood to get pickpocketed or mugged-and slammed into someone else. He spun hard, jarring his ankle but not caring, half staggering away, but was brought up short by a third figure closing the gap.
"Look, I've got a bus pass, twelve cents, and a couple granola bars," he said quickly, hand reaching for his phone. "That's it, really, it's not worth the-"
Before he could finish or fish out his phone, the man who'd snagged his bag slammed a heavy fist into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Too late Cisco thought through the white flash of pain, should have screamed, gotten attention. Stumbling, he kicked out, struck back with one elbow and felt it connect with a body that may as well have been stone. The man grunted once, and then a hand closed around Cisco's arm, immobilizing it and dragging him to the side, shoving him hard towards a second silent figure. Still trying to pull in air, wondering why no one was coming to his aid-surely someone would have seen from a window-Cisco dug in his heels. He had to try to make as much of a scene as possible.

This was no grade school play yard fight, he knew, this wasn't something he could win-but why? Muggers would have grabbed the bag and left. A third man grabbed at his wrist, twisting it behind him even as he writhed to get free, begging every scrap of breath he could manage from his lungs to cry out. He fumbled with the phone, finally dragging it free enough that he could unlock it. The first attacker, the one still gripping his shoulder in a vice, released the hold long enough to pry the phone from desperate fingers. Cisco lunged as best he could, pinned as he was, hoping to break free-run into the street if he had to, even if there didn't seem to be traffic. For his trouble, a fourth attacker struck him across the head with a forearm like an iron bar. That was all they needed as Cisco lost traction against the ground, too dazed to fight even a losing battle, his vision hazy not only from the flickering light but the blow.

It wasn't until they'd slammed him into the side of the building two up from his own that he got back his ability to groan, "What do you want?"
"Get him in the truck," one of them-Cisco couldn't see who in the dim alley-barked as the one holding his wrist seized the other arm pulling them together and cinching a set of zipties so tightly they bit into his skin. With the goon mostly holding him up, Cisco tried another kick, but one of them caught his leg and the one cuffing him kicked the other-the bad ankle-out from under him entirely. Cisco went down hard, his cry muffled by a soaked cloth clamped over his mouth and nose. Whatever was on it burned his lungs as he twisted and squirmed until even the flickering street lamp faded away.
Distantly, he thought he heard the slamming of doors, the rumble of an engine, but he was too far gone.

Caitlin hit the snooze function on her alarm and after a few seconds rolled out of bed. She hit the off button a little bit more savagely than normal, but it was another day. Even without the mess to clean up at STAR Labs and everything else that needed to be done-someone was going to have to make sure Barry's blood sugar was normal and Cisco and Barry were not as conscientious about that as they should be-she'd have gotten up early. For one thing, it meant beating the rush at Jitters. Barry usually got drinks for everyone, and since he prefered tea, Cisco and Caitlin could be reasonably certain their cups would be full. Asking him to buy pastries, though, that was more risky. And beating the rush meant first dibs on cinnamon scones.
A hot shower eased the worst of the aches from the previous day's adventure, and with her usual quick practicality Caitlin slid into her tiny fiat's front seat. The car had seen better days by far, but despite it all, it still ran, and that was all Caitlin needed, even if Ronnie complained about the lack of legroom. It wasn't as though he ever rode in the car, anyway, off in hiding with Professor Stein somewhere, only coming in to visit for a stolen hour or two every so often. Though none of them had seen or heard from anyone who might wish Firestorm harm since the mess in February when they'd finally been found, it was still deemed safer. Caitlin hated it, but like Clarissa Stein agreed: loneliness seemed a better fate when it was by choice.

For all it was early June, the morning was still fairly cool, the barest hints of fog on the edges of the bay. Caitlin hoped fervently that was natural, and not a warning of trouble with Mardon. In the two weeks since Snart had pulled a double cross and freed not one but all of the metahuman prisoners, they hadn't heard from any of them, but that didn't stop Caitlin from worrying. Barry had mentioned an alternate timeline with a tidal wave, and that wasn't something a gadget of Cisco's or some fancy footwork could just stop. With a slight shiver, she reached out to touch the heater, but stopped herself-the car wasn't warmed up enough just yet.
There wasn't much of a rush at Jitters, just as she'd thought. She picked up a coffee, deciding if Barry got a second she could drink that as well, a cinnamon scone for herself, and a chocolate muffin for Cisco. Barry was on his own for pastries, particularly after yesterday's "it was only a little bomb I'm fine" stunt. Caitlin settled the coffee first, tossed the pastry bag with the scone already half eaten onto the passenger seat, and buckled herself in. Reaching for the heater again, she froze as her eyes caught the tiniest flicker of movement in the rearview mirror. Cold metal pressed into the back of her neck warningly as the figure that had been concealed by the pile of emergency supplies in the cramped backseat sat up.
"Drive. Left here." It was a woman's voice, harsh and unfamiliar. Caitlin's hands shook on the steering wheel. Slowly, her eyes caught on the button Cisco had installed on her keyfob, a silent alarm that would go to Barry's phone. Her breath freezing in her lungs as she steeled herself, she dared a whisper.

"Can I just turn on the heater?"
"Take your hands off the wheel, and I will shoot you, Doctor Snow." The barrel of the gun twitched, sliding down towards her shoulder, but Caitlin knew the angle could still kill her. This woman knew her name, Caitlin realized. All of this had to have been planned, and that meant this wasn't random. Of course it's not random, I'm a super hero's doctor. Worse, if this wasn't a simple-hah, simple- hostage situation, if she'd been personally targeted, all the advice she'd gotten about what to do in this situation-which was 'don't go where they tell you, detour, draw attention'-was useless.
Caitlin squeaked, and her trembling fingers went white knuckled on the wheel as she tried to hold back the panic threatening to drown her. She didn't dare even nod understanding, just drove where directed, her mind racing. I'm early, Cisco and Barry won't know yet. Oh god, I hope they figure it out. Of course they will, they did last time, with Snart and Rory. Just stay calm. Calm. It's not one of Snart's. Who? Eobard's dead. Who else have we pissed off? Maybe one of the non-metas had escaped from jail? Brie Larvin? Though, Brie would have gone after Felicity, right-only Felicity and Oliver were off the grid somewhere. Think think think. Key to getting through this is to know as much as possible. And Stall.

"Who are you?" she asked, turning right where directed, then into a parking garage. There was no teller, just an automated ticket booth, and Caitlin hoped fervently that there were cameras being monitored-but her windows were tinted, and if the woman had directed her here, it had to be planned. Caitlin's stomach dropped. Of course it had been planned, and that meant they'd have taken precautions, whoever they were.
The only response to the question was a sharp, "Park there."
As soon as she had, the passenger door opened. What remained of her calm shattered like glass, and she could feel her hands and feet go numb the way the always did when she panicked. The man who'd slid into the seat reached for her coffee cup with a gloved hand, and tipped a vial into it. Heart pounding so powerfully that she finally understood the inane statement about being sure others could hear it, Caitlin tried to memorize what he looked like. Not-quite shaven head, pale eyes, average features, nothing useful. A glance again in the mirror revealed much the same about the gunwoman, save that her hair was dark, more brown than red, and her face was rounder, falsely friendly.

The man held the coffee out to her, and Caitlin shook her head on instinct. Behind her, the woman shifted, the gun still pressed against skin but at a different angle now.
"You can drink it, or she can shoot you in the arm and I can make you drink it. It's your choice, Doctor Snow."
Caitlin swallowed hard, too afraid for words. It probably wasn't poison then, if they wanted her dead, they'd just shoot her, right? And if it was meant to be something harder to detect-digitalis, maybe-they wouldn't threaten to shoot her first, that would give away that it was murder. That left some kind of drug to put her under, or dampen her ability to focus and react. Which meant that whoever these people where, they weren't done with whatever plan they had. One hand shaking, itching to grab the key fob, Caitlin took the cup. Wishing suddenly that she'd added more cream, she drained it, scalding her tongue. Whatever it was that had been in the vial, it worked fast. Even before her fingers released the cup, splashing the dregs on her shoes, she felt her hearing go fuzzy and her eyes couldn't seem to focus. She didn't hear the click of a seatbelt release, or feel them tug her from her seat. Cisco… and... Barry… they'll come. Always do. Ronnie. Need. 'll come. Hurry.

The clock on the nightstand told Barry it was 8:45. Barry was fairly certain it was lying. There was no way he'd actually gotten almost 11 hours of sleep and still felt this groggy and -yep, that was his side, still one massive ache even though the bruise had faded. Caitlin would be glad of that, at least.
"Barr, you up?" Joe's voice from the hall.
"Mmmuuuuhrrrrmm?" Barry pulled the pillow closer.
"That's what I figured. You had a rough day yesterday, I'll tell Singh you're under the weather."
"Thanks, Joe," Barry murmured. "I'll be in by noon. Run by STAR Labs first 'nd all."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll see you then. Breakfast's downstairs, better eat that or Caitlin'll have my head. Can't have you passing out on us again."
"Kay." Barry snuggled deeper into the blankets, not bothering to set an alarm. Just another hour. He'd get up in an hour. Caitlin and Cisco could get their own coffee; they'd call if there was an emergency. His phone remained still and silent.

Remember, comments are love. hope you liked it! It's only going to get worse from here.