"O' Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are ca- a -lllling"

Singing. Someone is singing.

"From Glen to gleeeeeen, and down the moun-tain siiiiiiiide"

Oh god, it's terrible. Barry really didn't want to open his eyes and see whoever was doing this. The notes were loud, and carried well in the cool air of... wherever this place was, he didn't want to know. He couldn't connect to the Speed Force… What was happening to him?

"The summer's gone, and all the roses fa- a -alling,

'Tis you, 'tis you, must go and IIIIIIIII must bide"

Just awful, why are they doing this? So pitchy, and they keep reaching for notes that aren't in their range.

"But come ye baa- a- aack when summer's in the meadow"

Their voice was definitely masculine, familiar, and probably wouldn't have been that bad if they actually tried. You know, instead of randomly jumping into falsetto. Or randomly screeching. Or basically doing anything other than what they were currently doing. Barry grimaced and steeled himself for whatever was to come next. Whoever was singing so badly must be completely insane. The singing stopped and devolved into humming which got closer and closer and then stopped. Barry felt a sudden weight press on his chest and a puff of warm air hit his face. He opened his eyes to find himself with Captain Cold less than two inches away, sitting on his chest and staring intently at him without blinking, wearing a strangely vacant expression. He wasn't wearing his Captain Cold ensemble, and he seemed… off.

"Hey Flash," he said cheerily, a disturbing smile spreading across his features. "When did you get here?"

Barry's jaw dropped in shock, "uh, I, um..." He stuttered through his reply, futilely trying to understand what was happening. Leonard Snart was sitting on him and grinning like a complete maniac. What the Hell is going on here, he thought, placing his hands on Snart's shoulders and trying to push him off of him and failing, only succeeding in shifting him about an inch further away, his warm breath still hitting his face. "Snart, what the hell are you doing? Get the fuck off o-"

"Len," Cold interrupted conversationally, not at all concerned by the fact that he was sitting on the chest of his enemy, legs splayed, knees bracketing his shoulders.

"Wai-what?"

"Kid, you can call me Len, it's just weird when you call me by my last name," Snart -Len looked quite pleased with himself, and continued speaking. "How would you like it if I just called you 'Allen' all the time?"

Barry blinked in confusion. "Um, I would prefer if you didn't do that, you're supposed to be my enemy."

Len rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh. "Sure, my 'enemy'. You know that we're not really enemies, right?" He shifted his weight, trying not to put too much pressure on Barry. "If we were really enemies, you wouldn't be here with me... unless Providence just picked you up off the street..." A look of concentration shifted across his features, "or all of this is just another illusion she's made. Just another one of her tricks." He leaned forward again and locked eyes with Barry, ice blue meeting bright green. "You'd tell me if you were an illusion, right Barry?"

"I'm not an illusion Snart," Barry said softly, not wanting to upset him. Something was seriously wrong with Captain Cold. He seemed unfocused and almost confused about what was happening. Brainwashed. "You know I'm not."

"But I can't know for sure..." Len moved his arms from his sides and jabbed Barry in the cheek through the mask. "You seem real enough."

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Barry rubbed his cheek, damn, that had actually hurt, it didn't hurt much but it had taken him by surprise.

"Evidence. I just had to make sure you were real." Len softly patted the cheek he had poked. "Sorry, kid. At least you had the mask on."

Barry suddenly realized the absurdity of the situation he was in. He had come here to save his enemy, gotten double crossed and now the person he was trying to save was sitting on him and trying to decide if he was real. What the hell, how did this happen, he wondered, once again trying to remove Snart from his person. And once again he failed, only resulting in Snart glaring at him and frowning.

Len's expression quickly changed from a glare to a look of shame, "I'm sorry Barry, I told her your name… I didn't want to, we had a deal… I'm so sorry." Snart looked devastated as he confessed what he thought was a crime, not realizing that Barry didn't care that he had given away his identity.

"It's fine Len, just tell me one thing," Barry said, looking up into his enemies eyes.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Why are you still sitting on me?" Barry asked, not sure what to do with his hands. He can't just leave them on Snart while talking to him, that would just be weird and uncomfortable for the both of them. "If you could maybe sit somewhere else..."

Len rolled off to the side and sat hunched in on himself on the cold floor. "Sorry, shouldn't have done that in the first place, don't really know why I did, shouldn't hav… " he trailed off in the middle of his sentence and his eyes lost focus. Soft breathing was the only sound he made and was almost as still as a stone, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath the only movement. Atonal humming started quietly and rose slightly in volume. The tune was slightly familiar, but Barry wasn't sure what it was.

Barry sat up and reached for Snart's shoulder, "Len?"

The door of the cold room swung open with a light grinding of rusty hinges. Sharp heel clicks, a disturbed, high-pitched, giggle. "Oh, I wouldn't play with that one if I were you Flash, I'm afraid it's broken, just no fun."

Springing to his feet, the Flash whirled around to face their captor, "what the hell did you do to him?"

Candice shrugged her shoulders daintily, "it was weak, and just snapped under the pressure. Humans are such fragile things aren't they?"

Barry gritted his teeth in determination, "what did you do to him," he repeated, hoping for a real answer this time.

Candice smiled, "I just found out what it was afraid of, and it did the rest of the damage to itself. Really, the passing of time in relation to emotional distress is really quite fascinating, I got some amazing data from that one. It refused to answer one of my questions in the beginning, though... " She turned her gaze to the man on the floor, who was still humming quietly and staring into nothingness. The previously imposing Captain Cold, the leader of the Rogues, reduced to such a pitiful state by a psychopath with a God Complex. Candice turned back to the Flash, prepared to have some sort of fun with his mind. "But nevermind that, I'm sure you have answers to questions I never knew I had." She stepped closer and looked the Flash straight in the eye. "It's funny Flash, you should have been under my control after what happened earlier, but you just keep surprising me." She stared Barry in the eyes, and her own burned with immense power.

Nothing.

Barry tried once more to access the Speed Force, he was closer this time, whatever had happened, whatever she had done, was wearing off quickly. He'd be out of here soon enough, he could almost guarantee it. As long as he could run, nothing was impossible.

"So strange," she muttered, walking around the room, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "How is it that you are resistant? Your mind is just like all of the others, just...faster…." Her face lit up in a wide, toothy, grin. "Genius! Your mind moves far too fast for me to control! It's magnificent!" She stepped in close, eyes once again locked on his own. "But if I did take your speed, my creatures wouldn't be controllable…a shame really. Speed such as yours would have been quite lovely to own." She turned on her heel and headed out the door. "I'll be back soon, I have quite a few more questions I need answered, Flash." The wooden door closed with a grind and a loud slam, shaking in the steel frame.

Steel frame, rusted hinges, wooden door, and a speedster. Bad combination. An easy prison to break out of.

The Flash turned back to Snart and dropped into a crouch beside him. "Len?" He reached for his shoulder, only for his hand to be smacked away. The humming had stopped and Snart had a look of fear, no, of terror, in his eyes, and he scrambled backward towards the wall where he sat shaking heavily.

With his work in forensics, Barry had never seen for himself the effects of brainwashing on a person, but he knew how it happened in theory. Knew how people would do anything to stop the torture, anything to save themselves. But seeing someone he knew change so much, so drastically… it was something he had never wanted to witness, and something he wanted to put right. Something he needed to put right.

"Is she gone?" Len asked, mumbled so quietly Barry almost didn't hear. "Did she leave, or is this just another trick?" Snart gazed up at Barry from his place on the floor. "Please," he whispered, voice shaking. "I need to know that she's gone."

Barry moved in close and patted Snart's shoulder softly. "She's gone Len, she's gone, she can't get to you." Snart slumped heavily against the wall, keeping in contact with Barry's hand, needing to ground himself with something other than the constant nightmare that woman had made his life into. She's gone, and I'm going to try and keep it that way, Barry thought angrily, his mind full with plans of escape. He had to get Cold out, had to save all of those people, had to bring that insane woman to justice.

*Providence Waits*

It's only been two hours since Oliver Queen had arrived in Central City, but he was already caught up in the web of danger and crime that surrounded the Flash's every move. Twilight sun was stretching pale arms of pink and orange light over the city, spreading shadows in their wake, ominous intent hidden within its innocence. He'd watched the video sent by the psychopath over a dozen times, he had repeatedly traced over every possible step Barry could have made, and even spoken with the associates of Leonard Snart, the Rogues Gallery. There was no trace of the missing hero and villain. No evidence that could possibly be followed, only grainy security footage and an anonymously posted ransom video. Nothing they could actually follow up on, only rumors of monstrous animals in the dark and missing people found in impossible places, blood drained and meat hacked from the bone.

The Arrow had been seen 'visiting' members of the criminal underworld of Central City, asking questions and following any lead, no matter how slim, no matter how impossible. And now here he was, following the last lead, lurking outside the high-level windows of MERCURY Labs Headquarters. He had some questions for Doctor Christina 'Tina' McGee, owner of MERCURY Labs and the previous employer of one Professor Candice Providence and one Counselor Mark Jean. Oliver needed to know Providence, her habits, how she moved, how she thought, how she planned. The files he had read on his way here painted a bare-bones portrait of a narcissistic woman with a God Complex and a vicious need to control and possess everything they saw, and destroy that they could not have. He needed to know why she had been visiting the now deceased counselor, and how he had been treating her. Needed to know what his mind had contained before his untimely departure from physical form.

So many questions, so many options on how to extract the answers.

Violence wouldn't do in this sort of situation, though, a more subtle approach would be required. Breaking and entering wasn't exactly his favorite method, but it had its uses. Such as this one. He smashed his fist into the glass, metal plated tactical gloves taking the majority of the force, and he leaped through the new opening and into the dimly lit office of Dr. McGee.

He drew back his bow, the arrow already nocked and prepared to fire. The shadowy form of Dr. McGee was in his sights, and he was prepared to do anything to get the answers he needed.

"Where is Candice Providence?" His voice rumbled through the office, startling the only occupant who whirled around to see Starling City's hooded vigilante staring her down, bow drawn and arrow at the ready.

Dr. McGee raised her hands above her head, palms flat. "Look, I don't know where she is, but I know where she might be."

The Arrow relaxed his grip on the bow, releasing the tension on the string. "Tell me what you know."