Chapter 1- P.O.V Reyna

The sirens sounded from outside the museum. Well, it's about time. I've been helping myself to priceless artefacts for the past ten minutes and the cops are only arriving now? Pathetic. Honestly, a monkey could do their job better!

I walked out through the double doors of the National City Museum with my bag of expensive new toys in tow, floating just a few inches behind my left ear. I was met with about five police cars and a lot of guns pointed at my face.

"NCPD, freeze!" Oh, please.

"Put the bag down, Foster. We're taking you in, no funny business this time."

"Oh c'mon, Bill, we've been playing this game of cat and mouse for ages. I think we know each other long enough now to be on a first name basis, don't you? It's Reyna, please." I smile at the familiar police officer, my bag of stolen goodies still hovering in the air beside me.

"That's Detective Patton." Bill answered gruffly, his gun still raised and pointed in my direction, "We've got you surrounded Foster. You won't be able to stop every bullet. Now, come with us, we're taking you to the station."

I felt a smirk slide onto my face and I stood a little straighter, chin raised.

"That so?" I asked cockily, "Try me."

"Don't make me do this, Foster." Bill warned, glancing at his fellow officers. I recognised a few of them. How could I not, being a master criminal that doesn't bother to hide her face or identity? I mean, I'm bound to encounter a couple cops every now and then right?

I counted ten cops all together, and ten guns to match. Ugh, sometimes it was just too easy.

"Okay, I'm bored now." I sighed, "Later Bill." I took a step away from the doors and my foot had barely landed on the ground in front of me before they open fire.

Lazily, I threw my hand out in front of me, palm facing the bullets about to rain down on me and in an instant, they were frozen, mid-flight, in the air. With a quick wave of my hand, I moved the bullets to make a clear pathway for myself. Just another advantage of being a telekinetic (and telepathic, I might add), criminal that can stop time.

Once I was standing behind all of the frozen cops, I threw my hand out in the same way and time restarted itself. The spray of bullets, meant for me, flew harmlessly through the air, the only damage they caused being the holes in the large wooden doors of the museum that I had just left.

"Better luck next time Billy!" I shouted from behind him with a shit-eating grin planted on my face. I saw him, and the other cops, turn around with a look of frustration on his face. I mean, really, they must be used to this by now right?

"FOSTER!"

Before he could point his gun at me again, I blinked and teleported myself out of there, landing in- Central City?!

"Damn…I really gotta work on getting the distance right. That was way too far…" I muttered to myself, shouldering my bag and preparing myself to teleport again. This time focusing on my apartment back in National City.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll get better, Miss Foster, in time." A voice sounded from behind me. I turned around to see a man in a brown trench coat, clearly British, judging from his accent.

"Who the hell are y-?!" The last thing I saw was a bright blue light and then I'm out cold.

Ugh, what the hell was that? Where am I?

I sat up and found eight other people lying on the ground beside me, all of whom appeared to be only waking up now too. The looks of confusion on their faces told me that I wasn't the only one with no clue of what was going on.

A man in a dark blue parka said something to an older man beside him, who replied to him but I paid no attention to them, in favour of trying to figure out exactly where we were. We were on a rooftop and judging from the skyline, still in Central City. Well, there's worse places to wake up in, I guess. It was still daytime when I was knocked out but the sky was dark now, the moon high in the sky, meaning I'd been out for a few hours. It was only when the guy beside me started talking about our captor that I started listening to what the others were talking about.

"…dude who knocked us out and kidnapped us." He was saying," British dude with the flashy thing ring any bells?"

"Sounds familiar." I muttered, more to myself than anyone else, as I remembered the guy in the trench coat and the weird blue light that knocked me out. Once the words left my mouth, however, the whole group stared at me as if only noticing me now. Parka Dude seemed to be the only to recognise me, thankfully, and with a quick scan through his mind, I realised that he was Leonard Snart, master thief, and the walking, talking hunk of muscles beside him was his partner, Mick Rory. Before any of the others could ask who I was, a familiar British voice cut in.

"The name's Rip Hunter, and the answer to your question is quite simple." I spun around to see the same trench coat wearing asshole standing in front of us, "I'm from East London- Oh! And the future."

"Nice to meet ya, Rip." Mick Rory growled out, reaching into his coat, presumably, for a weapon.

"Ah, while you were incapacitated, I may have…tampered with your weapons." The look Hunter received from the burly man had even me wincing slightly. "I've assembled you all because I need your help." Hunter continued, "The future of the world is in peril because of a man by the name of Vandal Savage.

"That can't be." A man in some funky looking brown armour spoke up, "We destroyed him."

"Yeah." The woman beside him, in equally weird looking armour, added, "Green Arrow and Flash helped us do it."

Green Arrow? The Flash? Hold up. Was I standing around a bunch of heroes right now? Actually, now that I think of it, that dude in the robot suit did look a little familiar. But it doesn't make any sense. Snart and his lackey were here too and they definitely weren't heroes. Unless, the rumours that Snart had gone soft were true…

"And therein lays the problem." Hunter interrupted my thoughts, "Unless you or Mr Hall delivered the death blow, Savage can be restored from but a single cell."

"Cool." I remarked at the same time that Mick Rory said "The hell are you talking about?"

"Vandal's immortal, Kendra and I reincarnate." Armour Guy answered Rory's question, gesturing to whom, based on their matching outfits, I presumed to be his superhero girlfriend.

"Yeah, I've done that." The blonde woman commented casually.

"Even cooler." I added.

"Sorry, who are you exactly?" The older man of the group asked me, looking confused. The only answer I gave him was a cryptic smirk.

"And what the hell does this Randall guy have to do with us?" Rory demanded impatiently.

"Vandal." Hunter corrected, "In the future, he will employ the evil he's perfected over his long life, and the power he has amassed throughout history, to finally conquer the world. I've been tasked with assembling an elite team to stop him."

I find that hard to believe, I thought to myself. Choosing to find out the truth the quicker way, I blocked out the noise of people talking around me and allowed myself to delve into the mind of Rip Hunter. And it was horrific.

Hunter was telling the truth about Vandal Savage. There was so much death and- and pain and destruction. I felt the pain and sorrow Hunter had experienced when he discovered his family, dead by the hands of Vandal Savage. I saw him surrounded by some council, denying him the opportunity to save them and I felt his stubbornness and determination when Hunter decide to do it anyway. This was no noble quest to save the world with an "elite team", as Hunter had said. This was a personal vendetta. One man's desperate quest for revenge.

I tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Hunter rattling off some bullshit about us being legends in the future.

Liar. I telepathically spoke to Hunter. Instead of the usual terrified look people would get when I first spoke to them in their minds, Hunter looked calm and unsurprised, continuing to speak to the others aloud.

We're no legends. I continued in his head. This is just you, looking for a team of irrelevant misfits to help you exact your revenge. Why would I help you?

There was a mental pause and then Hunter replied, Because, in five months' time, Reyna Foster, you die. Well, shit.

I wanted to not believe him, I really did. But the look of true pity that Hunter fixed me with before returning to the conversation outside of his head, told me he was telling the truth. He continued his bullshit spiel about how everyone on that rooftop was destined for greatness and showed us what the world would be like in 150 years' time if we didn't help.

I barely even registered the change in the city below us, from the clear night sky and busy traffic to the image of chaos and destruction that I had already seen in Hunter's memories. I was going to die. In just five short months, I would be dead. I didn't try to read Hunter's mind again. I already knew it was true and I didn't want to know how it would happen. Not yet anyway. Instead, I got back to the matter at hand.

"I could have chosen any time and any place." Hunter was saying, as he made the mirage of Central City in 2166 slowly fade away, "Of all the people who ever lived, I chose you nine. I certainly hope that you won't let me, and the world, down."

With one last, meaningful look in my direction, the time traveller began to walk away. You will die in five months Miss Foster, but if you come with me you can prolong your life and help to save the world.

"If your answer is yes, meet me at this address in thirty-six hours." He added, handing a card to the older man in the group and then he left.

Everyone was silent for a moment as we all thought about what this time travelling Englishman was offering (or in my case, trying to process the fact that he just told me I was going to die). It took me a second before I came to a decision.

"Fuck that." I exclaimed and teleported myself away from the group of superheroes (and possibly two criminals that have gone soft).

I landed two blocks away from my apartment in National City, which, considering my current state of mind, was pretty impressive. But rather than marvel at my apparent success of getting better at teleporting, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I was going to die in less than half a year..