What Happens at the Comics Shop…

The owner of the comics shop glanced surreptitiously at his current clientele. They looked disturbingly familiar, in some way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Especially that tall fellow, in the dark blue leather jacket.

The fellow in question was glancing between two items with an acquisitive gleam in his eye.

"How come Blondie gets two?" Mick Rory demanded.

"Who cares?" Snart replied lightly. "I want them both."

"Why? I mean you do have access to the real thing, after all," Sara Lance all-but-purred.

"Same reason you want that one," Mick replied, gesturing to the box she had clutched tightly in both hands.

"You're just jealous," Snart said smugly.

"No I'm not. I got one, too."

"You're all daft, the lot of you!" John Constantine muttered, shuddering. "Do you have any idea the kind of power someone could wield over you with those things? I'm just glad there's not…oh, bloody hell!"

"Aw, come on, John - he's so cute!"

"I think it's a great likeness," Snart commented.

"That's what I'm afraid of!"

"Hey, lookit this one," Mick exclaimed. "This guy's got furniture! How come ours don't got furniture?"

"Eh, that's just some nutjob from Gotham," Snart said dismissively.

"Beside, ours are better," Sara chimed in. "Ours have weapons."

"This is true," Mick acknowledged. "Hey, look! There's Haircut!"

"And our favorite scarlet speedster."

"You're not actually going to buy those things?" Constantine spluttered as they headed to the register with their spoils.

"These are a really good investment," the shop owner was saying. "Every time the Flash makes headlines, his action figures jump in value."

"And what about the rest of us…er…them?" Sara asked.

"Well, you never know. People latch onto the darndest fandoms." He shrugged, thinking idly that these people reminded him of someone he'd seen somewhere.

"Wait. Really? These things increase in value? Well, in that case, do you have any more of that rather dashing Brit in the trenchcoat?" Constantine demanded.