Chapter 53: The Greatest Trick
"Darlings!" Amunet Black, known in the underground as "Blacksmith", gave a joyous cry as the men and women bearing her biggest catch yet made their presence known. An abandoned factory, hidden deep within a derelict section of Central City's harbor, had been selected as the exhibition sight for her many business partners; it was situated near an area that was grossly uninhabited and near a medium-sized cliff where the tide consistently clashed with the bare stones. Loudly.
"I'm so glad you could make it!" She continued, her signature grin stretched wide across her face. "Please, come in! Everyone's been waiting for you."
Cautious but eager, the crew followed her at a quick pace, successfully ignoring the grime and debris that covered the area. Up ahead, they could see the potential buyers; some were grungy, some eccentric, some business-like, all dangerous. Bolt frowned imperceptibly at the sight; they all looked very familiar to him, and not in a good way.
Amunet gathered over to the front of these many groups, near a small, aged car that would be used for the demonstration. Catching everyone's attention, she soon introduced them to this cabal of dangerous underworld kingpins. Typically, this wouldn't be done; having an open identity of criminality was dangerous in this day and age. Restricting to only criminals hardly mitigated the problem. However, Snart's crew was untried and untested before this job and many of them hadn't been big names in the underground before, at least for beyond Central City, sans Bolt. Bates had been a complete newbie, Shawna was the girlfriend of a low-level drug runner, and while the Snarts and Mick were fairly well-known, their notoriety was solely constricted to Central.
However, with the success of this job, that changed. Breaking into one of the high-security bases of an alphabet agency, one not particularly well-known but extremely well-funded nonetheless, was an impressive feat. One deserving of a reputation. Amunet had promised them riches for risking their lives to attain such a bounty, and this was just one facet of her pact. Cold, hard cash could only last so long, but connections? Connections endured.
"Now!" Amunet clapped her hands together as the introductions finished, catching everyone's attention. "Let's begin."
"We got a location!" A tech yelled out. "Central City Harbor, Section 45, District D!"
Iris nodded, and pressed on the gas pedal of her car. The cruiser roared to life, passing through the back streets of South Side like a knife to butter. Beside her, Ralph whistled.
"Man, can you drive West! Where'd you learn this from?"
Iris lips quirked. "Let's just say my brother needed some sense knocked into him, so I beat him at his own game." She then glared at Ralph. "You won't say anything to dad, will you?"
Ralph mimicked a zipper with his mouth. "My lips are sealed."
"Good." Iris nodded. "It won't be long now. Hopefully we'll be able to set up a perimeter before everything goes south."
"Don't worry, Iris; Barry hinted in his last transmission that the place would be at the harbor, so we've already got people there. We'll manage."
"Yeah, but without catching people's attention, Ralph? You just know that Amunet has got cronies sniffing around the docks, watching out for us." she frowned. "And once they tell her about what's coming her way, she'll realize there's been a leak. And that's when Barry will be at risk."
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Amunet sighed as the last of the smoke cleared from the explosion. From behind her, many of her potential customers nodded in agreement, all smiling. These weapons would be boons indeed.
Mick was no different. He was gazing at the leftover, flickering flames as if he were in love. Bates was grinning eagerly, all but salivating at the payday he was about to receive. The Snarts wore small smirks, no doubt thinking the same thoughts. Only Shawna and Bolt were the holdouts; the former was looking at the scene with unease, though she tried desperately to hide it, while Bolt kept his face perfectly blank.
"Now, the bidding?" Shouts of numbers - exorbitant money that many of the crew present had never been even close to having - soon followed that question. Amunet looked up to the ceiling, trying to absorb the moment. She'd be a made woman after this, and while she wouldn't leave the arms trade after this, it would allow her to be pickier with her jobs. Bigger, better, and safer.
She bent her head backward, as if yanked by an invisible force, the curve of her neck visible for all to see -
WEEEOOO!
And then the sirens blared out.
"How did they find us?" Lisa hissed out, drawing her gun. Everyone else followed her lead, taking out weapons, readying themselves for fighting and fleeing.
"There's only way." Snart murmured, taking out his goggles and firing up his Cold Gun. "We have a leak."
At that statement, everyone turned to each other, eyeing one another warily. There was no honor among thieves, after all, and trust could only be found when there was money to be made.
Amunet sighed audibly. "Everyone, please! Do not worry, I shall take care of this." She looked pointedly at each person present, hoping to convey her seriousness.
After a tense moment, they all followed her command, but there was still suspicion everywhere. Amunet internally rolled her eyes; couldn't they trust her?
"I'd prefer not to use this, to keep it hidden for all our sakes, but this is far more important." She held up her hand to the sky, smiling as the metal around her began to rumble and float.
There was a reason she had chosen this place. On top of location, it was a treasure trove of metals - metals containing the specific alloy needed to use her powers. She had preferred to keep this secret, to keep herself invisible to the scarlet death that roamed the streets for metahuman criminals' day and night. But if there was anything Amunet Black could admit to herself, is that she was greedy. If there was money to flow into her grasp like dripping honey, she'd drink it all up until she drowned into its golden waves.
Amunet directed the metals in front of the group, in front of the entrance where the cops and agents would surely enter. She was smirking as the doors open, as her prey revealed themselves to her. The sharp, pointed ends of her weapons were at the ready. She made a single fist, watched as the metal flew from her side a breakneck pace -
And fall, clanging to the ground.
Everyone froze. Amunet made several gestures with her arms, trying to get the metal to just move, but found her efforts fruitless. They were inert.
"It's been rumored you're a meta, Black, since we first found you out." Ralph Dibny called out, smirking victoriously. "We had no proof, but we figured better safe than sorry, and set up a meta-dampening field around this place. No meta-human can use their powers here."
Shawna flinched when she heard that. She looked behind the cops and tried to teleport, but her body did nothing. Beside her, she could see Hannibal Bates trying to transform, perhaps into one of the many cops that had tried to apprehend him while he was disguised, and see that he was having the same amount success - none. He remained in his original form, unable to morph even one part of his body.
Amunet screamed, whipping out a sidearm she had hidden beneath her usual attire and began firing. Everyone else did the same, Snart and Mick trying to keep their very destructive weapons from wrecking their allies. The entire place was a circus.
Backing away from a particularly close shot, Shawna yelped as Bolt pushed her out of the way of another, taking one to the chest. Before she could try to look over her teammate, a whoosh! was heard. The gun she had been using was ripped out of her arms.
She looked up, and it took all of her willpower not to scream.
Iris tried not to look as she saw Barry - Bolt, she reminded herself - fall to the ground. She remembered the plan, she knew he was alright, but it was hard. She never liked seeing him hurt.
Thanks to the meta-dampening field, the tides had turned decidedly in their favor. Oh, there was still Snart and Rory and their guns, but they were limited thanks to their allies. Survival normally would've been at the forefront of their minds, but with the amount of money on the line, they couldn't afford to do that. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, money they'd never come across again. They couldn't afford to kill their potential benefactors in the crossfire.
But we can, Iris thought, grimly pleased. She had killed before, in the line of duty, and she hadn't liked it. The first time, it took her some therapy to recognize the necessity of it. Even after recognizing that, every time after had not been any easier. But here, with these men firing blasts of ice and fire, she may not have a choice.
Suddenly, a buzz rang into her ears. Something subtle, and low, something she couldn't quite recognize. She tried to ignore it, tried to keep her focus as she fired and fired and unloaded and reloaded and fired again. She couldn't afford to be distracted when death was just a whiff away.
At least, until her gun was ripped out of her hands.
Iris stared at her empty palms, and looked up, feeling her insides run cold.
The Flash.
He had dropped the guns into the middle of the factory, the deadland where bullets and metal littered the ground, and was now dodging the streams of heat and cold. She watched, and in the periphery, she could see Eddie glaring and cursing. She had no doubt that if he had his weapon in hand, he'd be trying to attack the Flash right now. Iris was torn by understanding and condemnation, for her boyfriend, for his anger and his foolishness.
She was torn from her thoughts when she saw the Flash suddenly take the streams at the same time, forcing Snart and Rory to slowly direct their guns to follow him until -
BOOM!
The explosion was loud, and rocked her back. She was out for a moment and came to, enough to see the Flash hold up Amunet Black by scruff of her dress. The woman was struggling, trying to break his iron hold, and utterly failing. Iris could feel the fear radiating off her; she knew her death was near.
Why hasn't he killed her yet? she thought to herself. She looked around, and saw that all the other bodies in the factory were just coming to, and realized it instantly.
It's all theater, a show. He wants everyone to see. See so they could tell others. Tell others no matter how hard you hide, the Flash could find you and kill you if you used your powers to subvert the law. The Flash hadn't publicly killed anyone in a while, and that encouraged criminals to be bolder again. He needed to remind them of the danger. With someone like Amunet Black, it would be a sickeningly effective message.
Iris felt her insides turn to lead. Effective, perhaps, but wrong. They needed Amunet, she was more valuable alive than dead. The names in her head, there were so many people they could get off the streets, people who killed people they could save. Perhaps the Flash thought he was saving people too, by doing this, and maybe he was, but there had to be a better way.
She thought of the Undertaking. She thought of the videos of the Justice League roaming around the Glades, saving people, inspiring hope in them. She thought of how bright the Flash looked then, not a crimson shadow that blanketed the entire city, but a hero. He was a hero then, why couldn't he be a hero now?
As that thought raced through her mind, her mouth opened.
"Don't!"
She could feel everyone's attention on her now. Even the Flash's. Only Amunet was not paying attention, and that was because she was still fighting for her life and losing.
"Don't." Iris continued, desperate. "I know she's a monster. I know you, and others too, think she deserves to die. And maybe she does."
The Flash narrowed his eyes at her, but did nothing else. Iris took that as he went ahead to continue. He was listening.
"She has names in her head. Names of people who work for her, sell to her. Names of people she sells to. If you kill her, you cut their strings loose. You let them go free."
Iris breathed in, picking herself up from the floor to stand, knowing that everyone's eyes were on her. "I don't know how many you'll save by killing her. But I know you'll save more by keeping her alive."
The Flash stared at her. Iris did not flinch as their gazes met. She kept her head held high, tried to stand her ground. It was all she could do now.
Whoosh!
He was gone.
In his place, Amunet Black was cuffed and unconscious.
But as the slight rise and fall of her chest showed, she was alive.
Iris stared at the sight for a moment, and let out a breath of relief.
Bolt sat up and breathed.
"It's done." Joe said beside him, smiling.
"Great!" Bolt groaned, ripping off his shirt to reveal the bulletproof vest underneath. "We're at the safe house?"
"Yes." Joe nodded, gesturing to their surroundings. Blandly colored but comfortable nonetheless. "You stay here for a few days, clean out the dye in your hair, maybe get another haircut. Then you head over to Starling for a bit. We need to keep up the illusion that Bolt is dead for Snart's crew before Barry Allen can come back to Central City."
Bolt sighed. "Wonderful. I guess I'm confined here for a while." He sniffed, and hissed. "And I smell too! Where's the shower?"
"Over there, son." Joe smiled. "I'll just get out of your way." He got up to leave, but stopped for a moment. He looked searchingly at his foster son, before his smile softened, just a bit. "I'm proud of you, Barry."
Bolt smiled. "Thanks, Joe."
"He's gone."
The Flash faded out of the shadows and into the light, gazing at Bolt expectedly. Bolt frowned at him, before sighing and ripping off his face - revealing the Human Target, Christopher Chance.
A whoosh! later, and Chance's clothes had been taken off and replaced with a fresh pair, clean and free of debris, while the Flash, now Barry, bore the dirty ones. Where the Flash suit went, Chance didn't know, and he cared even less to find out.
"Thanks for doing this, Chance." Barry felt the words rolled off his tongue lazily. "No hard feelings about Prague?"
Chance glared at him. "What do you think?"
Barry shrugged. "I figured you'd have moved on by now. It's been years, hasn't it?"
Chance crossed his arms. "What do you want? I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible and forget I ever had to help you. For anything. The things I do for Amanda…" he muttered.
Barry smirked, and sat down onto the couch situated towards the back of the room, crossing his legs. "Information, really. Amanda doesn't trust me, you see."
"I wonder why."
The speedster ignored the sarcasm. "What's going to happen to them?"
Chance blinked, and shrugged. "For everyone except Bates, prison. Amanda sees no value in them."
"Not even Shawna?" Barry raised an eyebrow.
"The girl's not a killer, Allen." Chance replied seriously. "She's not a killer, and she'll break before she bends if we try to make her into one. She's better off in prison - maybe she'll reform and finally do something productive for society."
"And the Snarts and Rory?"
"Rory's dumb muscle for the most part and the Snarts' skill sets are hardly unique. Besides those guns of theirs, they're mostly run-of-the-mill. And with the guns gone, they have no real value." Chance shrugged again. "It is what it is."
Barry continued to gaze at him.
"Why are you asking me about all this?" Chance demanded. "We both know how smart you are, you could've easily figured this out for yourself. You don't need me for anything!"
"What about Bates?"
Chance blinked. "What?"
"What. About. Bates?" Barry hissed, suddenly severe.
Chance grimaced.
Hannibal Bates tried to scream through his gag when he came to, gasping for air when it was finally removed. He was about to shout at the guards beside him, regardless of the large guns strapped to their sides, when the subtle click-clack of heels distracted him.
He looked forward to see a woman walking towards him. A very familiar woman.
"Cynthia?"
'Cyntha' smiled. Bates felt himself shiver.
"Amanda." She stated firmly. "Amanda Waller, Director of A.R.G.U.S.. You know, the agency you tried to rob?"
Bates fell silent. Even without eyes, the fear was clear on his face.
"You know," Amanda continued, her voice velvety. "I have an agent with abilities just like yours. In some aspects, his are superior. In others, yours are."
The tension mounted, and Bates knew, knew, he was face-to-face with Satan herself.
"I wonder," she put a finger to her chin, a faux-look of thinking on her face, "just how can we reconcile the two?"
Bates wanted to scream. He didn't.
"Welcome to Task Force X, Mr. Bates."
Finished! That's it for this storyline, though we will revisit the consequences of this in the next arc. We'll be going back to Starling City next chapter. Central City will take center stage again this arc, but after that, it's all Starling.
Don't forget the contest! Remember to update the TV Tropes Page! All constructive criticism is welcome!
The Prompt: Draw your favorite scene of To Hell and Back. Any scene. You can have as many entries as you like.
Dates: From the day this chapter is posted to the day the last chapter of this arc (Chapter 63) is posted, you may submit something.
Submission: Submit your drawings to the story's official blog on Tumblr (the link can be found in the first chapter beneath the chapter summary on the AO3 version). If that is not feasible, then simply post it to your preferred image-hosting platform and send me the link via messaging on either AO3 or FFN.
Winning: There are three ways to win.
1. Author's choice. Whatever piece I favor the most.
2. Beta's choice. Whatever piece Kara Smoak, my beta, favors the most.
3. Fan's choice. I will put up a poll (either on FFN or Tumblr) and have all the readers vote via that.
Prizes:
1. For the fan that wins #1 (my choice), your piece will be the cover page for FFN, the first chapter of AO3, and the TV Tropes page!
2. For the fan that wins #2 (beta's choice), your piece will be the background image of the Tumblr blog, which is scarily bare.
3. For the fan that wins #3 (fan's choice), your piece will be inserted into the first chapter of Arc IV.