killbothtwins

[killbothtwins]

All Aboard The Spaceship of Death

Find it on a03

One day Mick Rory wakes up in his room aboard the Waverider to the sounds of the timestream bumping the ship as they travel. It’s a familiar sound, and also not what had woken Mick. He lays in bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling. A thought had occurred to him. He’s on a timeship, why should he have to wonder about what he might have been able to do, when he could just go do it? He stands up, slipping his boots on. He gathers what few possessions he or his partner had brought aboard or ahem, acquired during the course of their travels, and makes his way to the jumpship.

“Destination?” Gideon asks pleasantly, and Mick sits down at the controls before answering. “Central City, 2017.”

Mick had been wrong, in his initial predictions. He’d thought that the Hawks would split up after three months, give or take. It had taken them four.

“What can I do for you?” Kendra asks, throwing the question at Mick over her shoulder as she busies herself at the espresso machine. It’s a pretty useless gesture, considering that the customers had fled from Jitters at a frankly astonishing rate as soon as they recognized the Heatwave entering the coffeeshop. People in Central were pretty paranoid.

“I need a copilot.” He tells her. “Figured you’d be bored with doing the barista thing again.”

Kendra considers it, finishing the espresso she’d been making and taking a sip. Turned out she was making it for herself. “Yeah, I could stretch my wings. You mind if we bring along my roommate? I think you’d like her.”

Mick grabs the frappuccino someone had abandoned on the completed order counter. It makes a slurping sound as he takes a drink through the straw. “The more the merrier.”

“Your grandmother kissed me.” Mick blurts out upon being introduced to Kendra’s new roommate. “On the cheek.”

“Okay, weird, but whatever.” Mari McCabe says. Mick would have been able to see the resemblance between the woman and Amaya, even if the costume and the necklace weren’t instant giveaways.

“Mick, why do you have to be weird with people you just met?” Kendra asks, shaking her head.

“Sorry.” Mick says. “It’s a character flaw.”

“I don’t mind.” Mari tells him. “Now, what was it you guys were saying about time travel?”

It’s not that Leonard Snart is upset by the fact that he hadn’t died. He’d extremely happy about that, actually. He’s just a little confused, that’s all.

“Weren’t you unconscious one minute ago?” Leonard asks, squinting up at his partner, who looks entirely too happy to see him than the situation calls for. Also, Leonard’s a little motion sick. The new lady apparently channeling the power of a cheetah to run him to safety isn’t the strangest thing to happen to ever him, but it’s pretty weird.

“We’re time travelers, idiot. I’m from the future.” Mick says, pulling him to his feet. The new girl watches, her darkly shaded lips pulled into a smile.

“Oh, cool.” Leonard says. “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

“This is kind of gross.” Kendra says, using her shovel to poke the dirt of the grave she’s digging up.

“Looking good.” Leonard encourages, giving a thumbs up from where he’s seated on the grass.

“So glad you’re helping us out.” Mick glares halfheartedly at his partner.

Leonard, wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the fact that it’s night, shrugs. “I just had a near-death experience. I shouldn’t be putting any unnecessary strain on my delicate person.”

“Wow, you’re terrible.” Mari says. “Move over you guys, I’ve got this.”

She touches her necklace and several animal forms present themselves at once. Mari attacks the task with a new vigor, and the grave has been properly desecrated within a minute.

“Useful.” Mick approves. He opens the casket a crack, only to close it again a second later with a grossed-out look on his face. “Ew, yeah, she’s in there. Why couldn’t we go get her while she was still fresh?”

“Ew, phrase that better next time.” Kendra tells him.

“Yep.” Mick agrees.

“Because.” Leonard draws out the word longsufferingly. “Rip said if you went back to help out then you’d die. Then we’d have another problem on our hands. The resurrection process is just so much easier these days.”

“Sara’s girlfriend destroyed the pit.” Mick says, levering himself out of the grave and onto the cemetery grass.

“Mick.” Leonard says. “Time travel.”

The ghost of Laurel Lance pumps her fist, because finally, someone figured it out.

“Hey, John Constantine.” Mari says. “Come get on this spaceship to help us bring this girl back to life.”

John Constantine, only mildly upset to find strangers in a spaceship landing in the middle of his living room, shrugs. “Okay. Hang on, though, let me finish my lunch.”

He finishes up his cup-o-noodles and tosses it into the trashcan, pumping his fist as it makes it in. “Alright, I’m ready. Zed, you want to come?”

The girl who had been sitting on the counter, enjoying her own snack, jumps down. “Sure. Friends of yours, John?”

“I’ve met maybe two of them in my life.” Constantine says. “Let’s go.”

As they board, Constantine looks around the ship, nodding to himself. “I didn’t know spaceships were a thing. A bit weird, that.”

While they’re stopping by the League of Assassins’ hideout in 1958, the group makes a quick stop to pick up Chronos’ old ship and send the Jumpship back to the Waverider on autopilot. The AI, Gina, takes an instant liking to the newly resurrected Laurel Lance. Mick is concerned by this.

“Time travel is cool.” Laurel declares, before setting off for the kitchen and completely devouring just about everything in it. Apparently being dead for a while makes people very hungry, though hopefully not for brains.

“Thanks for your help.” Leonard tells Constantine, shaking his hand.

“No problem, mate.” Constantine tells him, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing as he talks. “Odd family, the Lances. Second one that’s been brought back to life.”

“Yeah.” Leonard says. “They’re weird.”

Zed, happily exploring the timeship with Mari, pokes her head in the room. “Hey, this place is cool. Mind if I stay?”

“The more the merrier.” Kendra grins at her. Laurel enters the room, spraying a can of space whipped cream directly into her mouth. “Wazz happenin?”

“What should we do now?” Kendra asks, as their new timeship hurtles through the timestream.

“I’ve got a suggestion, if you guys don’t mind.” Laurel says.

“Of course we don’t mind.” Zed says, patting her shoulder.

“You know, this is my ship?” Mick asks.

“Of course it is.” Mari assures. “Plot a course, would you?”

Tommy Merlyn dies in his best friend’s arms. He wakes up in the middle of an episode of Star Trek. A hologram spits out a medical display over his head.

“The afterlife is strange.” He says, looking at the grumpy-looking man staring down at him.

The man grunts. “Your guy’s awake.” He calls into the other room, and there’s running footsteps.

“Tommy?” Laurel flings herself at him, hugging tightly.

“Hi, Laurel.” Tommy says. “Are we dead?”

“Not anymore.” Laurel tells him. “Well, you were never actually dead, technically. As soon as Oliver left we swooped in and Gina restarted your heart, healed up everything else.”

“Gina?”

“The AI. We’re on a spaceship. Timeship, actually.” Laurel grins, like this is normal.

“Oh, okay.” Tommy says. “Why does that woman have wings?”

The woman in the corner shoots him a sheepish smile.

“She does that when she gets excited.” Laurel explains.

“That’s nice.” Tommy tells the woman for lack of anything better to say. Her smile becomes flattered.

“Also, I’m psychic.” Another woman says, standing in the doorway. “Just thought we should get that out there.”

“Oh.” Tommy says. “I think we’re going to have to start at the beginning.”

“So we’re just a bunch of dead people flying around in a spaceship?” Laurel asks.

“I’ve never died.” Zed says, smugly.

“Me neither.” Mari says, and the two high-five.

“Does presumed dead count?” Mick questions, sitting at the helm of the ship.

“Yes.” Laurel decides.

“I’ve died more times than all of you combined.” Kendra brags.

They hit a bump in the timestream, and Tommy almost falls out of his seat. “Congratulations?” He offers unsurely.

“We need a good name.” Leonard decides. “Like Ghost Ship or something.”

“That is literally the most uncreative thing I’ve ever heard.” Zed says, and Leonard pouts.

“The Charon.” Kendra says. “In mythology, he’s the one that carries souls of the dead into the afterlife.”

“I like it.” Mari says.

“Me, too.” Tommy agrees.

“Yeah, whatever.” Mick rolls his eyes.

“I liked Ghost Ship.” Leonard slumps in his seat, arms crossed.

“Hey, guys.” Zed says. “I got a vision of someone else we could snatch up, if you guys are interested. Not in like, a creepy stalker way, but like, a saving their life way.”

“Whatever.” Leonard says. “The more the merrier.”

Dante Ramon had been kidnapped by Captain Cold and Heatwave, once. It was a fairly traumatic experience, and he’d nearly had his hand frozen off, plus his brother had nearly died. So you can excuse him if his response to being pulled from a car wreck by none other than Heatwave himself is less than positive. He screams. A lot.

“Wow, maybe you should get my job.” A woman says, impressed, and peers down at him. Dante recognizes her; she’s Black Canary, a superhero.

“As much as I wanna see this car explode, I don’t really want to be right next to it.” Heatwave says. “Let’s grab the dork and split.”

As soon as they’re a reasonable distance from the wreck of Dante’s car, it explodes. Spectacularly. Heatwave laughs.

“What is happening?” Dante asks, a little hysterical.

Tommy Merlyn, who Dante recognizes on account of he’d been hired to play the piano for the man’s funeral, smiles reassuringly at Dante. “Hey, you’re dead. Welcome to the Charon!”

“Who should we snatch from the jaws of death next?” Leonard questions, sprawled across at least three of the Charon’s seats in a physics-defying manner.

“I dunno.” Mick says. “Any suggestions?”

“I’m sure there’s someone.” Kendra says. “The lives of superheroes are very depressing.”

“True.” Zed agrees, giving her a fistbump. “In the meantime, you guys want to go do some stuff that’ll mess with archeologists?”

“Of course.” Laurel says. “Mick, plot a flightpath.”

“Now, this is a plan I can get behind.” Mick grins, sharing the look with his previously dead partner.

They blast off into time, a bunch of dead people and two living ones in a pranking mood. (Although they don’t know it, their group will be singlehandedly responsible for Nate Heywood’s nervous breakdown)

It’s a good time for all.

[killbothtwins]

History Has Its Eyes (and Lips) on You

Find it on a03

Ray covered his mouth, attempting futilely to smother a laugh. Amaya gripped at Nate's shoulder with too-sharp nails, trying to hold back any reaction and mostly failing. Jax and Stein seemed to be unable to process what they were seeing, staring agape at the sight in front of them.

“That,” Sara said, “Is the best thing I've ever seen.”

They all looked up at the statue, titled Private Rory in proud bronze letters. Mick's face looked down at them, stern yet noble.

Mick, the real one, growled at her. He was wearing a baseball cap, in an attempt to be incognito. The hat said Central City Fire Department, so it wasn’t actually a very good attempt, but it was the thought that counted. The crowd eddied around them, mostly uninterested. It was the sixties, so they supposed no one was going to be snapping photos with their iPhone, anyway.

“His eyes keep following me, everywhere I go.” Jax said, swaying slightly to the side.

“Private Rory is one of our nation's first and proudest heroes.” Ray read off a plaque, sounding strangled. “George Washington himself once said that Private Rory represents the true American way.”

“Damn right.” Mick said. “I'm a founding father.”

“I thought you were the drunk uncle.” Amaya said.

“He can be both.” Jax said, taking out his phone and snapping a selfie with the statue. Stein shot him a look that conveyed the fact that he was disappointed in his counterpart for using an anachronistic device, but didn't complain when Jax moved to get him in the picture, too.

Sara beamed brightly, utterly delighted with the statue, and, it seemed, life in general. She unhooked the fanny pack from around her waist (they'd gone all out on the tourist thing; Jax had a stripe of sunblock across his nose and Stein was wearing a Hawaiian shirt) and handed it to Nate.

“What are you doing?” Mick asked warily.

“What does it look like?” Sara rolled her eyes and hoisted a leg over the safety barrier, climbing up the few steps it took for her to get to the statue.

A few tourists’ attention had been caught, now, but Sara seemed quite determined. She held out a hand once she was level with the statue. “Lipstick?”

Nate dug through the fanny pack and found a tube of lipstick. He tossed it to her, looking curious.

She applied it with fervor, and kissed the statue directly on the cheek, just below his left cheekbone, with a smacking noise.

Mick scrunched his nose, looking disgusted. “Why.”

“Good luck.” Sara said. “Duh.”

“Kissing Private Rory gives you good luck for a year.” Jax added, thinking. “Plus he protects your home.”

“From fire.” Ray added, beaming.

Mick made a noise that somehow conveyed disgust and anger at the same time.

“Ooh, me next.” Nate said, handing the fanny pack off to Ray, who put it on, looking pleased with his fashion sense.

“Why.” Mick asked again.

“I want good luck, duh. Do you want the Waverider burning down?” He looked at Mick's face, and his baseball cap. “Okay, so, wrong person to ask. The rest of us don't.” He climbed up, wiped off Sara's lipstick, and kissed Mick on the cheek.

Sara made her way back down and plopped the lipstick in Ray's pack. She looked inordinately proud. “Me next!” Jax said, and clambered his way up.

“Ugh.” Mick said.

“Don't be sad, American Way.” Sara said. “At least we're not using tongue.”

“Wow.” Amaya said. “There are a lot more people here than last time we visited.” It was the nineties, now, and, true to word, the place was packed.

“Yeah, this is weird, why-” Ray said, then stopped abruptly as a peddler stepped in front of them.

“Lipstick, miss?” The vendor asked. “I'll give you a good deal.”

“Uh, no thanks. I have my own.” Sara said.

“Oh, good lord.” Stein said. “Look.” He pointed in the direction of Mick's statue, which was, again, far more crowded than it had been last time.

As they watched, a teenage girl climbed up onto the statue, applied lipstick, and kissed it on the cheek.

“What.” Jax said.

“Oh, you don't know?” The vendor asked, leaning on their little cart of lipsticks in all different shades. “It's good luck to kiss Private Rory. Ya get good luck for a year, and he'll protect your home from fire.”

“Really.” Mick rumbled.

The vendor squinted at him. “Hey, you look sort of familiar.”

“Ha, he gets that all the time.” Ray said, stepping in front of Mick before any awkward questions could be asked. “Any, any idea where that legend came from?”

“Oh, who knows.” The vendor said. “As long as I can remember. Lots of people like to wear lipstick when they kiss him, but not everyone.”

Sara looked immensely pleased with herself. “I'll take a lipstick after all.” She said.

“Me, too.” Amaya said.

“And me.” Jax said. “You got any, that, like, happen to say Mick-- uh, Private Rory's name on them?”

“Sure!” The vendor said. “They're collectible.”

“That could not be more perfect.” Jax said.

“I'm gonna punch you so hard he can feel it.” Mick muttered to Jax, jerking his head at Stein, who looked offended.

“Take a picture!” Ray, now holding a lipstick with Mick's name engraved on the base and slathered in it himself, called, leaning in to the statue.

“Never mind, you're gonna have to take a number.” Mick said, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

“So, what have you guys been doing?” Barry Allen asked Sara and Mick, kicking his feet up on a desk in STAR Labs.

The rest of both teams were there, too, watching Ray and Cisco curse and dodge sparks over some aspect of the ATOM suit or another.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Nate asked doubtfully.

“Haha, probably not.” Cisco said. “Duck.”

“Good.” Sara told Barry. “A couple changes to the timeline, but nothing major.” The last part may have been said a little pointedly, but Barry pretended not to notice.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked. “Like what?”

Sara grinned devilishly, the customary look whenever she talked about this topic. “You know that statue in DC? Private Rory?”

“Yeah-” Barry said, and his eyes widened. “No.”

“Yep.” Sara said. “Right, Mick?”

“Unfortunately.” Mick confirmed. He was eating some of the Twizzlers off of Cisco's desk, but he still managed to look threatening.

“But-” Barry said. “He protects you from fire!”

“My doing.” Sara said proudly. “And the Waverider isn't burned down yet, is it?”

Barry shuddered. “Iris and I kissed that thing on our fifth grade field trip.”

“Ha.” Sara said.  

Barry looked disgusted. “Hey, Cisco!” He called.

“Yeah?”

Barry had the look of someone who was about to ruin someone’s life, and who was also about to enjoy it. “You know that Kissing Statue in DC?”

“Yeah, why- wait, ugh! ” Cisco said. “No!”

“Yep.” Sara said smugly. “You’ve made out with Mick.”

“I hate time travel.” Cisco complained. “Why can’t you let us have nice things.”

“Ugh.” Barry said. “I can't believe you're the Kissing Statue. Practically everyone I know has kissed that thing. Joe has kissed that thing.”

Mick shrugged. “At least I didn't erase anyone's children from existence.”

“That was one time!” Barry said. “And she wasn't erased, she just changed genders.”

“Guess Mick looks pretty good now.” Jax mused. “He creates a beloved tradition. You ruin everything.”

“One time.” Barry sulked.

It was the twenty-somethings, now, and they were visiting Private Rory. Again.

“Hey, there's a new sign.” Nate said, squinting in the sun to read it. “ Please do not climb on or deface the statue. Thank you. ”

“Ha.” Mick said.

“Hey, what gives?” Ray snagged a tour guide. “What's with the sign?”

The guide sighed beleagueredly. “So many people were kissing the statue that it started to cause permanent damage.” She said. Jax unsuccessfully held in a laugh. “The spot where they were kissing started to get worn and shiny.”

“Do people still-” Stein asked.

“Oh, yeah, all the time.” The guide said. “Get off the statue!” She yelled, without turning around. A group of teenagers scrambled off where they were kissing Mick, wiping lipstick off their faces.

On inspection, there was a clear, brighter spot where the imprint of ten thousand kisses had been.

“It's like you--I mean he's blushing.” Raymond observed. “That's adorable.”

“I am,” Sara said. “ So happy.”

When Leonard came back, the first place Sara insisted on stopping was the Kissing Statue of Private Rory.

The moment Captain Cold, legendarily emotionless, always calm under pressure, and cool, saw the statue, he burst out laughing.

He didn't stop for an uncomfortably long time, wheezing slightly. He put his hands on his knees, trying to catch a breath, still laughing.

“Laugh it up.” Mick grumbled, dodging a tourist who was trying to climb up onto the statue.

“I… can't… breathe.” Leonard gasped. “It's the best thing I've ever seen in my life.” Apparently trying to regain his composure, he looked back at the statue, only to see a little old lady kiss it on the cheek, looking pleased with herself. He started laughing again.

“I told you.” Sara said, looking smug. “It's good luck.”

Leonard only laughed harder. “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

“Good.” Mick said dispassionately. “I hope you die.”

Leonard didn't stop.

“This is gonna go on for a while, isn't it?” Amaya asked Sara.

“I hope so.” Sara said, looking gleeful. “Once he stops, I'm gonna tell him about the commemorative lipsticks.”

It was sometime in the three thousands, probably. The last mission had been hard, blood-filled, and smelly. Past historical periods were not very concerned with hygiene, or teeth brushing. Or whether or not their bows and arrows were pointed at you or an enemy soldier.

“We need good luck.” Sara explained as they stood in front of the Kissing Statue. “Lipstick me.” A tired-looking Ray slapped it into her hand. She put it on, and started the trek up the statue.

There weren't as many tourists around, today, probably due to the rain. There were a few dedicated ones, though, snapping pictures from under decorative umbrellas.

“Is that a gift shop? ” Leonard asked suddenly, delighted.

Sara, now finished kissing Mick, hurried back down, mindless of slipperiness, as Stein went to take his turn. Every time they visited, everyone kissed him at least once, except for Mick, who kept threatening to set them all on fire. “A gift shop? ” She asked. “We're going inside.”

“I didn't get my kiss yet.” Snart complained. “It's bad luck.”

“We’ll go after.” Sara said. “ Gift shop.”

“Fine.” Leonard said. “If the Waverider catches on fire, don't blame me.”

“Blame me.” Mick said, watching Jax kiss statue-him on the cheek. “I'm going to kill all of you.”

“Yeah, right, American Way.” Jax said. “Gift shop!”

They made their way inside. The future, it seemed, had the same penchant for horribly tacky souvenirs as the past. There were a couple floating holograms, and unrecognizable electronics, but otherwise it was eerily familiar. There were bobbleheads of the Lincoln Memorial and postcards of the Washington Monument, but there were also Kissing Statue souvenirs.

Sara shook the water out of her hair out like a dog, looking like someone had let her loose in a surplus weapons warehouse (Again. Christmas of 2472 was probably a bad idea).

“Yes.” Leonard said. “I've never been happier.”

“We met Al Capone last week.” Jax reminded him.

“I know what I said.”

“Ugh.” Mick said.

“There's bumper stickers.” Ray said. “It says I kissed Private Rory. ”

“Will it peel off in the timestream?” Amaya asked sensibly.

“You are not putting some ugly bumper stickers on my ship like it's a Honda Civic.” Jax said.

“Um, can I help you?” The shopkeeper asked, hovering nervously around the delighted group.

“Yes.” Leonard said. “I'd like to buy all of these postcards of Beyonce kissing Private Rory. Literally all of them. If you have more in the back I'll take them too.” The shopkeeper nodded, bemused, and disappeared into the back.

“How about a fridge magnet?” Nate negotiated. “We'll put it in the kitchen.”

“Acceptable.” Jax said. Nate, Amaya, and Ray high-fived and found one that was a drawing of Mick covered in lipstick marks. They squabbled for a moment on whether to get that one or the one where Mick seemed to be passionately making out with the Statue of Liberty.

“There's a keychain. ” Sara said. “I'm buying this.”

“You don't even have keys.” Mick complained as Snart staggered out of the back with a shoebox full of postcards. “We live on a spaceship.”

“It's going on my belt loop.” She said. “Or my bra strap. Close to my heart.”

Snart shoved a postcard under Mick's nose. “ Obama kissed you.” He said gleefully.

Malcolm Merlyn squinted at Mick. He was holding a cartoonishly villainous gun up at the Legends, but, really, they were used to it by now.

“Do I know you?” He asked, gesturing with the gun.

“No.” Mick said.

“Just kill them.” Dahrk grumbled from the corner, cradling his shoulder from where Sara had smashed him into the wall.

“No, I know him.” Merlyn said. “You weren’t involved in the plot to level the Glades, were you?”

“Nah, man.” Mick said. “That was messed up.”

“Yeah, kids died, dude. Not cool.” Leonard added. “Even I’m not that evil. And I’m evil.”

Merlyn shrugged, but kept staring at Mick. “I know you.”

“Wait.” Jax said slowly, his hands still in the air in an attempt to placate the maniac with the gun. “You don’t know Mick from the Kissing Statue, do you?”

Merlyn’s eyes widened, and the gun wavered for a moment. “ You’re- ”

“Yes.” Mick sighed, looking resigned.

“I took my kid there when he was twelve.” Malcolm said, almost thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I was there.” Sara said, uncovering memories that were hers and weren’t at the same time. “Tommy and Ollie got into a fight over who got to kiss him first. While they were arguing, Laurel and I snuck up and kissed him anyway.”

“ Kill them!” Dahrk called, frustrated. Merlyn raised up the gun again, but by then it was too late; the Legends were already in action.

Stein and Jax rushed towards each other and fused, flying into the air with a burst of flame, while Sara went for Merlyn, knocking the gun out of his hand and going in for a kick, which he caught. Leonard dove for his and Mick’s guns on the table, pointing them at Dahrk, who rolled his eyes.

“We’ve gotta go!” Amaya called, now wearing her totem and bedecked in a very feminine gorilla spirit. “They’ve set this warehouse to blow!”

“Of course they did.” Leonard said, watching Sara break apart from her spar with Merlyn. They were both panting, and a little banged up, but the fact that they were very nearly evenly matched always meant it was hard to determine a clear winner.

From behind, Firestorm shot a stream of fire that caught Merlyn in the back and sent him sprawling to the ground, dazed.

“Get out, everyone!” Sara called to the team, then kicked at Merlyn with a boot, ignoring the increasingly more urgent calls to go. “We’ll let you go this time.” She said, before baring her teeth turning after the rest of the Legends.

Mick, flanked by Leonard, leaned down to Malcolm with a grin. “For bad luck.” He said, and kissed him on the cheek, shooting the villains a sly grin before turning with Snart and running for the door.

“Good job, idiot.” Dahrk complained as the two limped out the back of the warehouse, half supporting each other and pretending they weren’t.

“Not gonna lie, that kiss wasn’t half bad.” Merlyn said thoughtfully as the warehouse exploded behind them.

“Happy birthday, Mick.” Leonard said, putting his hands on his hips and gesturing to the area behind him. It was the three-thousand-twenty whatevers, and the tourists were still going strong, taking pictures and fighting over who got to go next.

“Not sure why this is a present.” Mick rumbled, eyeing Private Rory as if he was going to come to life and punch them. Given their weird lives, Leonard was going to give Mick that one; he honestly would not be surprised if that happened.

“This is a present because that’s not the original statue.”

“What?” Mick eyed it again.

“Okay, well, it’s one of the original statues. The kid and I took the Jumpship and had the original guy make two.” Snart said, looking pleased with himself.

“Why.”

Leonard grinned. “Come with me and you’ll see.”

The Legends stood in a field in an unspecified era in an unspecified place, gazing up at the majestic face of Private Mick Rory, one of the nation’s first and proudest heroes, the embodiment of American ideals.

“He’s beautiful.” Sara said, wiping away a pretend tear. Jax had gone the extra mile and dabbed an old fashioned handkerchief at his eyes, intermittently pausing to hand it to Amaya. Mick seemed to be cautiously optimistic, now, seemingly getting the idea of what his present was.

“A final kiss for a hero.” Snart said solemnly, stepping up to kiss statue-Mick on the cheek. The others followed suit, each appropriately serious.

They stood in a line in front of the statue, now covered in lipstick marks but missing the standard wear and tear from the kisses of tourists. Snart fired off a crisp, somber salute, followed by the rest of the Legends.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Rory.” Stein said, handing Mick his heatgun, a box of matches, and a can of gasoline.

Mick took them with a grin. “Bye, Private Rory.” He said, then, to the delight of his team, stepped up and gave the statue a peck on the cheek before dousing it in gasoline, from head to toe. Statue-Mick looked grimly approving, yet still nobly heroic.

The Kissing Statue (well, one of them) went up into flames in a glorious show of light that left Mick satisfied and smelling more like smoke than usual for a week.

However, that was most definitely not the last time the Legends visited and subsequently kissed the other one.

It was good luck, after all.

[killbothtwins]

Incident Report: Scarefest 2010

Read it on a03

Incident report: ScareFest, 2010

Report: Two boys, unascertained method of entry break into Haunted House. Let off with warning as one seems fully repentant. Other claims to have seen a deceased male in ride. Statement to follow. One discounted; not full report of incident.

Statement: (note, writing seems to be quite hard, as if angry about something) Statement copied word for word from a Burton Guster and seemed to leave file with the distinct scent of bacon. Possible investigation to follow.

Burton Guster, Pharmaceutical salesman

Really, Shawn [presumed Spencer, Shawn also involved in incident] is just so stupid. Even though everyone knows these rides are more dangerous than Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction [unknown source; reference needed], he just lets his imagination run away with him sometimes. Like seriously, one time, when we were kids, there was this thing with a werewolf and a teacher- actually, forget that. [area crossed out in pen] Well, we are so so sorry about breaking in and will not be causing any more trouble at ScareFest in the future. Um, there is no need to put this on any record of any kind. This can just quietly not be a thing. You’ll forget it, we’ll forget it, and everyone will be happy and we can go home and get some waffles. Shawn is just an idiot who drags me into his schemes sometimes. He thought he saw a dead body [inside the Haunted House Attraction] so we just went in for a couple minutes to make sure no one was getting hurt; because we are good citizens and do not need to be arrested. Anyway, the two of us are very sorry about causing trouble for the park and it’s very dangerous attractions. I’m pretty sure the back door was open in the first place. [note, door locked at all times] Just ignore anything Shawn puts in his report [report discounted for incorrect documenting] and just forget this ever happened. Also, maybe look into some safety measures for the haunted house. Everyone knows that asphyxiation is very common among low hanging spider webs. Another issue is the restriction of the belt-

End Report.

Note: Account unfinished due to discovery of said deceased personage. No charges pressed by either side. Mr. Spencer has requested three dozen pineapples to be delivered to his place of housing [note: currently an abandoned fondue restaurant] as compensation for “suck it! I was right, there totally was a dead dude in there!”. Request pending.