"He's so handsome," drawled Carrie Mawley, the closest thing Ava had to a friend. "And so mature. You know him, don't you?"

Ava looked across the backyard, full of family members and friends enjoying a lunch, and saw Bart Allen. He was so mature. Much older. Too old for her, naturally but that didn't stop her from dreaming. She nodded with a dreamy smile.

The young girl in her had already fallen in love. "Yeah, I do."

Chapter 3 Underbelly

It didn't take long to hail a lift. A truck driver had stopped over, seeing me clothes and seemed worried for me. He said he'd call an ambulance and then kept asking what happened. When I summoned a bolt of energy and exploded a nearby rock, then held the same hand up, pointing at him, he shut up. My fingers still crackled with energy. After that, he was obedient. He even offered some clothes. I took his shirt, which hung like a long dress, and with a belt I modified, I cinched my waist. There wasn't anything I could do for shoes, so I remained barefoot. I then grabbed a bottle of water from behind his seat and washed my face and hands, removing any trace of blood. I wet my hair, then dragged my fingers through it and tied it back with a strip of cloth I found amongst his stuff.

The drive was silent, which gave me time to think – to plan. I couldn't go to any of the safe houses or other branches. They were likely already compromised. Still, I had a few places I could go; apartments and warehouses I used on the side, not recorded on any data base. Even the name on the leases were faked, cleverly disguised under fake people and shell corporations. The owners didn't ask questions, so long as the money came, and no cops appeared.

With a place in mind I knew the next step would be gathering up my resources, hunting down people close by that owed me. I made a mental note of everything to be done, and everything required for it. Payments, items of blackmail, weapons.

When the sign of Central City came into view I told him to stop at the next truck stop. Five minutes I was climbing out. I held the door open and looked at him.

"Tell anyone about what happened and I'll steal every cent you have, including money from that offshore account you have in Manilla," I said and closed the door.

It was a wonder how much I could do when I slipped into someone's phone and into their life. When the truck rumbled away I felt at ease. There was a little virus implanted into his life now; if he even tried anything I'd know.

I went to the nearby ATM and set all the cameras on a loop, short and enough to hide me as I withdrew a small amount of funds. Then I strode into a small clothes store across the road and bought a plain pair of sneakers, a jacket and some leggings. A bit warmer I went out and hailed a taxi. With my best smile I told him where to go and sat back, breathing in the almost nauseating stench of a dozen air fresheners. By the time the taxi rolled up to the address I practically tossed the money at him and jumped out, sucking in gulps of smoggy air. The taste wasn't that much better but it was crisp and fresh, the breeze nipping at my cheeks.

Turning around I stared at the apartment complex; five years old and it still looked new, and very empty. It was too expensive for most people in the area, which wasn't a bad thing. It meant few neighbours and even less questions. I strode up and buzzed myself in, then took the elevator up to the top floor, where I found the apartment. As I pushed open the door I was bowled over with a wave of stuffy, warm air. Even the six monthly cleaning hadn't done much. I made a note to fire the cleaner and hire a new one.

When the windows were finally cracked open, the balcony doors thrown wide, and the fans all set on high the air seemed to lighten. I found a 'go bag' in a hidden hole in the floor, containing paperwork, money and several phones. I used one phone to order some food to be delivered, basic groceries to get me by. Taking the rest of the stuff I went into the dining room and sprawled it across the table.

There was work to be done.

It was a robbery at a local corner store. Cop stuff, really. The thing was Bart had just finished with investigating a nearby warehouse in relation to some gang crime, which contained no action. It left him restless. So when the alert had come through his comm it seemed fortuitous. Racing over, he came to a stop just outside. Angry shouts resounded from within, coupled with panicked pleas.

He blurred inside; shots rang out. Dodging them, he quickly removed the guns and moved to the door.

"Okay, come easy guys – make this easy for everyone," he said calmly, staring at the thieves – two boys who looked barely eighteen, with markings from a local gang.

The boys shared a look, clearly wondering how they'd escape. Were they on an initiation? Or a regular job? Finally, they looked at him and slowly, but warily, put their hands up. Bart smiled.

"Good choice."

Once he tied them up he called the cops and waited for them to arrive. In the meantime, he cleaned up the shop and set aside anything broken. Aside from a few broken packets of chips it was all okay. The elderly woman, the owner, was a little shaken but she seemed to relax as he spoke to her and reassured her. A few moments later the cops finally arrived and thanked him.

His comms buzzed; tapping it, a voice crackled through. "Hey, Impulse, there's a bank robbery five miles away."

"On it, Robin. You on watch, already?" Bart knew Tim had been pressuring to start taking on watches at the Watchtower, yet the League wanted him to be babysat for a little longer yet.

"Batman is here."

"Tell him I said hey."

On the other end Tim chuckled. Bart blurred off through the city, the skyscrapers a smear of colour and glass. Cars seemed frozen as he raced past, the people in midstride. He was at the bank before he knew it; in fact, he almost overshot it. Stopping abruptly by the negotiator's table, he looked at the startled man.

"How many?"

The eerily calm man stared at him. "We don't need you."

Rather than waste time Bart spun on his heel and stalked to the edge, ignoring the cops trying to get him to leave. He studied the bank, swearing he'd been inside it in person once. For the life of him though he couldn't imagine the internal layout. Which made things tricky. He was fast but if there was too many the risk of missing one, of having one caught in the crossfire and shot…

"Robin, can you bring up a list of hostages inside?"

"On it." Through the comm Bart heard the tap of keys and Tim humming softly. After a moment he grew silent. "Okay, using a thermal map I can see approximately fifteen hostages, all clustered by the centre table. There are, what I'm assuming are the attackers, five of them circled around. One seems to be pacing just shy of the door."

"Got it."

Bart sprinted into the bank; one shot was let off. He quickly cleared out the hostages from the path, delivering them one by one outside. Returning, he got the others until only the attackers remained. Or so he thought. He caught a flash of something black. Something – no, someone – was hiding behind a pillar, at the rear of the bank. He dashed over and stopped. Bullets exploded in their direction in an instant. The woman, barely twenty or so, drop dead gorgeous, looked up with a striking set of sapphire blue eyes and gasped.

"Bart?"

Grabbing her, he ran. Right outside the bank, then on to a nearby alley, where they were alone. The second he stopped and let go she dashed over to the wall and hurled her guts up. He felt bad but wary, too. She'd seemingly recognised him and called by his first name. Yet for the life of him he didn't recognise her. She was his height and lean, all slender muscle and agile movements. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail, high on her head. As she finished chucking and cleaning herself she stood up, revealing a strong set of shoulders and firm arms, and turned around. Those luminous eyes latched onto him, which sent shivers through his spine. There was something familiar about him.

"Impulse, what's happening?"

"The bank robbery is over. I'm busy. Impulse out." He tapped it his comm, turning it off. Looking at her, he frowned. "We're alone. Who are you?"

"Not saying I'm wrong about your name, Bart? I thought Wally taught you better – heck, I'm surprise you haven't been lectured on this by Barry yet." She cocked her head to the side, her eyes glittering with amusement.

"You seem to think you know a lot about me."

"I should, given I'm Wally's daughter."

Shock coursed through him, as new recognition lit up from within. "Ava?"

She grinned. "Hello Bart. Miss me?"

It had been unexpected sort of day. First, the bank I was in was being robbed. Before I could get out before the others, to slip away unnoticed, he rocked up. Then he'd looked at me and I'd done the stupidest thing. I'd blurted out his name, I guess partly reckoning he'd recognise me. Which proved wrong, since he didn't. Only after the alley when I said who I was did he realise. It was then further unexpected when he asked to meet for coffee later, given how we parted years ago. Maybe he didn't remember how young, naïve me had blatantly hit on him, only to have him shatter any illusion he might've felt the same. Thoroughly ashamed and hurt I'd left, and a few weeks later I was back at boarding school. A year later I was in the wind and the agency had me firmly in its grasp. That had been five years ago. I wasn't a fifteen year old girl anymore, enamoured by a handsome family friend. That girl was innocent and good – well, she sort of was. She had her demons firmly locked away. I simply let them run free. It proved to be much more therapeutic than the drugs and counselling and people trying to 'get to know me', like I was some sick little thing to be saved.

Sitting at the booth I had the optimal view of the diner, and of every escape. There was a single camera in the corner of the room but a cursory examination proved that it wasn't even working, let alone plugged in properly.

When the door opened next, singing out with a jangled chime, I watched as Bart walked through. Dressed in a cotton shirt and jeans, very casual. Still as dangerously handsome as he'd been five years ago. When his gaze scanned the dinner then found me they seemed to be wary, then they lit up with a smile as he approached.

"Hey."

I gestured to the seat. If I got up I wasn't sure if it was expected to hug or kiss on the cheek, or do something like that. So I remained seating, choosing the safer option.

"Good to see you."

His smile stayed. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a few days. I just arrived."

"Staying long?"

I thought how close I was to Wally and wondered if Bart expected me to mend fences, since I was in the city. "Not sure. No big plans, really. You? Living here?"

"Yeah, a house in downtown."

"Fancy. Real family home. Guess you must be settled by now?"

I swear I saw him wince. His eyes clouded. "No, single for now. You? Got a guy trapped?"

Even he winced and seemed to regret the word 'trapped'. I pushed ahead, not willing to dwell.

"No, single as well. I'm too busy for dating."

"So what are you doing now? It has been five years after all…"

Five years. It really had been five years. The years at the agency had flown, a blur of missions and close calls. Amongst it had been gruelling study, long hours and a life she couldn't tell. It had made the estrangement between Wally and I easier.

"I finished school and began working in clubs, travelling. Just enjoying freedom and exploring. It's been amazing, really. All the things I've seen, the people I've met," I said happily.

He smiled. "You seem happy."

Internally, I wasn't. I was angry and vengeful, ready to tear apart those who took my team, regardless of the cost on me. Whether it destroyed me or not, I didn't care. But he didn't need to know that. In his eyes I was still that girl he remembered. I wasn't her anymore. So I smiled and pretended I was, for there was no point in him knowing the truth. He was a hero, the boy from the future, the honest one. And me? I was a criminal, a thief, a killer – I'd crossed the lines he'd never dream about going near – and I didn't feel bad about it, didn't feel consumed by shame or pain.

"I am. I'm very happy."

Benjamin Barvolli was the man to see, at least according to all my contacts. If my team had been transported through recently, then he likely had heard about it. One contact even said he was the person to find people, that he knew everything and could do anything. A man with power. As I slipped into the thumping crowds of the Olympia, a club with a long history of hiring aliens and Meta humans, I wondered what he was like. And how easy it'd be to use him.

I strode past a bar, men and women sitting there, nursing drinks. With the club only starting to stir with a vivacity known for nightclubs, many seemed sombre. My gaze caught a sight I hadn't expected. A man, dressed well, that was very familiar.

Dick Grayson.

Why was he at the Olympia, of all places? Lingering for only a moment I pushed the thought away. Whatever reason Wally's best friend billionaire had for hanging out in a known criminal club was his own business. I strode head and made a beeline for the VIP section, a cordoned off section with leather booths and mood lighting. Burly guards stood at the entrance. One stepped forward as I approached but I had eyes for Benjamin, whom stared at me with an oddly inquisitive gaze. Before I had a chance to do anything else he raised a hand.

"Let her in."

The guards stepped aside. I sat down in the booth with Benjamin and smiled.

"Mr Barvolli, a pleasure."

"Hello child, how can I assist you?"

I bristled internally at the word child, stirring old memories of being coddled and told what to think, how to feel. Swallowing it with a steady breath I flashed him a practiced smile.

"I need a job. I'm a singer. Flexible hours and I'm not fussed how much I'm paid," I said calmly.

A waitress appeared as Benjamin Barvolli smiled. The young girl set down two drinks, one before me. I took it and had a small sip, savouring the burn of vodka and orange. She slipped away without another word, leaving me alone with Barvolli again.

"Quite the spine on you. Very well, why I should I agree?"

I held the glass just shy of my lips and smiled knowingly. "Because I can make this future partnership very profitable for the both of us, Mr Barvolli, very profitable indeed."