CHAPTER 17: SNART'S FATE
I passed Snart in the corridor the next morning and saw a dead man walking.
He didn't notice my hesitation—too focused on whatever scheme occupied his attention, cold gun holstered at his hip, that perpetual smirk playing across his features. Just another day on the Waverider for Captain Cold. Just another mission in an endless string of temporal adventures.
Except I knew how his story ended.
[TIMELINE ANALYSIS: LEONARD SNART]
[CANON DEATH: VANISHING POINT — OCULUS CHAMBER]
[CAUSE: VOLUNTARY SACRIFICE TO DESTROY TIME MASTER CONTROL MECHANISM]
[FIXED POINT STATUS: UNCERTAIN — SACRIFICE MAY BE REQUIRED FOR TIMELINE STABILITY]
The system's analysis was clinical. Snart dies holding the Oculus failsafe. The explosion destroys the Time Masters' ability to manipulate the timeline. The Legends win their freedom. Everyone lives except him.
Except he doesn't have to stay dead.
The thought had been building since I first understood the Contracted Agent protocol. The system could bind willing individuals at the moment of death—offer them resurrection in exchange for service. Tier 1 contracts were provisional, limited, barely better than ghost status. But Tier 2 gave full respawn capability. A second chance. Immortality, of a sort.
And Snart was exactly the kind of agent I needed.
I found an empty observation alcove and pulled up the contract interface.
[CONTRACTED AGENT PROTOCOL]
[TIER 1: PROVISIONAL STATUS]
[— COST: 50 ⧖ + 10 ✧]
[— PROVIDES: AWARENESS RETENTION, LIMITED MATERIALIZATION]
[— LIMITATIONS: NO PHYSICAL FORM, TETHERED TO HOST TERRITORY]
[TIER 2: STANDARD STATUS]
[— COST: 200 ⧖ + 50 ✧]
[— PROVIDES: FULL RESURRECTION, RESPAWN CAPABILITY, SKILL RETENTION]
[— LIMITATIONS: BOUND TO HOST AUTHORITY, CANNOT ACT AGAINST HOST INTERESTS]
[TIER 3: ENHANCED STATUS]
[— COST: 500 ⧖ + 100 ✧]
[— PROVIDES: ALL TIER 2 BENEFITS + INDEPENDENT OPERATION + POWER SHARING]
[— LIMITATIONS: MINIMAL]
Tier 2 was the minimum. Anything less and I'd be offering Snart a half-existence—awareness without agency, presence without power. He'd refuse. He'd probably find a way to be insulting about it too.
[CURRENT RESOURCES:]
[— TEMPORAL CREDITS: 75 ⧖]
[— CHRONO-ESSENCE: 48 ✧]
[TIER 2 REQUIREMENT: 200 ⧖ + 50 ✧]
[DEFICIT: 125 ⧖]
One hundred twenty-five credits short. The number burned in my vision, a countdown to failure. If I couldn't afford the contract when Snart died, the opportunity would pass. The Oculus would explode, and Leonard Snart would be gone forever.
Four episodes, I reminded myself. Maybe five. Three to four missions per episode equivalent. Call it twelve to twenty missions before the Vanishing Point.
At my current absorption rate—averaging around fifteen credits per mission—I'd need eight to nine missions minimum. That assumed everything went perfectly. No complications, no emergencies, no missions where absorption opportunities were limited.
The math was possible. Barely.
[CALCULATING OPTIMAL ABSORPTION STRATEGY...]
[RECOMMENDATION: AGGRESSIVE ACQUISITION — TARGET HIGH-YIELD ANOMALIES]
[WARNING: AGGRESSIVE ABSORPTION CARRIES OVERLOAD RISK]
[CURRENT OVERLOAD THRESHOLD: 80 ⧖/24 HOURS]
Eighty credits in twenty-four hours before the system started rejecting energy. I'd never pushed anywhere close to that limit—most missions yielded twenty to thirty credits total. But if I was strategic, if I identified the richest absorption targets...
"Lurking in corners now?"
Snart's voice. I dismissed the interface and turned to find him leaning against the alcove entrance, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Thinking," I said. "The observation deck has better views, but worse privacy."
"Privacy for what?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "More of those 'pattern recognition' calculations you're so fond of?"
"Something like that."
He studied me for a moment. That calculating gaze I'd come to recognize—the one that meant he was filing information away for later use. The criminal mastermind at work, categorizing threats and opportunities.
"You've been different lately," he said. "More focused. Less careful about hiding it."
Mick said almost the same thing. The callback surfaced unbidden—Mick in the cargo bay, noting that I was "running toward" something while everyone else ran from their pasts.
"The missions are escalating," I said. "Savage isn't getting easier to track. Focus seems appropriate."
"Focus on the mission. Sure." Snart pushed off from the wall, taking a step closer. "But that's not what I'm seeing. I'm seeing someone building toward something. Someone with plans that extend beyond 'stop the immortal dictator.'"
He's too smart. That's why I need him.
"Everyone has plans, Snart. Even thieves."
"Especially thieves." His smirk returned, but there was an edge to it now. "The difference is, I know what mine cost. I know who pays." He paused. "Do you?"
The question hung between us. A challenge wrapped in concern—or maybe concern wrapped in a challenge. With Snart, it was hard to tell.
"I'm learning," I said finally.
He nodded, apparently satisfied with the non-answer. "The learning curve on this ship is steep. Try not to fall off."
He turned and walked away, coat swirling behind him in that theatrical way he'd perfected. I watched him go, seeing not the criminal mastermind or the reluctant hero, but the man who would hold an exploding failsafe because someone had to.
You deserve better than a fixed-point death, I thought. You deserve a choice.
The contract interface flickered at the edge of my vision. One hundred twenty-five credits. Three missions minimum, more likely four or five.
I had work to do.
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