As you predicted, being a metahuman with the ability to resurrect yourself from a ghost-state by killing someone had its downsides. You had a pension for getting killed whether you put yourself in compromising situations or not.
It’s not like you weren’t an adequate fighter or that you were inept with a blade, you mastered karate as a child, self-defence, hand-to-hand combat, and archery as a teen in the hopes of being like Katniss Everdeen, and recently, you’ve become quite proficient with knives, daggers, and swords. Your father showed you how to shoot when you were younger and after getting the hang of it, you were just as good a shot as him. Between your fighting skills and your experience with killing, you sounded like an assassin for hire. Maybe you were.
Your Spectre form, as the metahuman experts dubbed it, didn’t bother you anymore. Sometimes you even got yourself killed on purpose just to slip back into your ghostly physique.
You moved to Star City right after leaving your dad’s house and you’ve actually built a life for yourself. You stole some money from a bank across town in your Spectre form and rented yourself a penthouse apartment so you could look out at the city lights each night. Anubis “Ann” Smith was your new alias. Why not name yourself after the Egyptian god of the dead? The irony was like a private joke that only you knew about.
Star City was a place of crime, not so corrupt as Gotham, but still had its perks. It was the perfect place for you to get away with murder and theft without it being too out of the ordinary. You enjoyed yourself and your new life, but after 7 months essentially spent in isolation, you decided you needed be around people. It was one of the reasons you strived for a corporeal form, after all.
You started hanging out at a dive bar in one of the harder parts of the city because you knew the people there wouldn’t go running to the police if something unexpected happened. After a couple of months, it did.
One night after a kill, you were sitting at the bar taking tequila shots when a gunfight broke out. Unsurprisingly, before you could even react, a bullet ricocheted and hit you square in the chest, causing you to blink out of the physical plane.
You were livid. After tracking down and murdering a man operating a huge child pornography internet network, one of your more noble kills, you were killed in a matter of hours by some idiot with a gun. Nope, you were not having it. You reached through the bar and grabbed a beer bottle, smashing the bottom off on the edge of the bar. No one noticed from all the commotion but they sure did notice when said broken bottle then stabbed into the instigator’s neck and you flickered back into existence.
The whole establishment fell so quiet you could hear a pin drop but you just glanced around the bar and shrugged. You mozied back to your barstool and took a swig straight from the bottle, you deserved it. Eventually, the patrons of the bar moved on and went back to drinking, playing pool, throwing darts, and making less-than-legal dealings but you still felt their eyes on you and hushed whispers directed your way.
“Is this seat taken?” a voice asks from behind you. You twist in your seat to see a man that you can only describe as tall, dark, and handsome .
“Go ahead,” you allow, intrigued at what this guy had to say.
He gracefully takes the seat to your left and orders two tequila shots. He was showing you that he had been watching you without having to utter a word and it only peaked your interest further. You each down your shots without flinching.
“So you’re a metahuman,” he starts. It wasn’t much of a question, more a statement that he wanted to confirm with you, so you indulge him.
“Yes but I prefer to go by Ann,” you reply cheekily, holding out your hand for a mock-handshake.
“Malcolm Merlyn,” he supplies, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Amazing. He released your hand and smirked at your shell-shocked expression.
“Nice to meet you, Malcolm,” you recover. “Now, why do you want to know about me?”
Malcolm chuckles lightly. “The abilities you displayed earlier and the coinciding timeline lead me to believe that you, my dearest Ann, are the so-called ‘Spectre de Mort.’ Am I wrong?”
Despite the fact that this man was clearly on the criminal side of the justice system and was undeniably a charmer, you found yourself trusting him. You could kill him right there, if not alive then certainly while dead, but you didn’t. “You’re not wrong.”
His smile broadens at that, but not in a malicious way, it was more like he was proud of himself for discovering who you are. “And can you confirm that you’re the one behind all the mysterious murders in the city?”
“You’re starting to sound like a cop,” you narrow your eyes at him. You didn’t really think he was SCPD, but you wanted to hear him deny it.
He scoffed at the suggestion, “God, no! Those guys are useless pigs that just serve to get in my way and end up dead.”
“In that case, I can’t deny your last question either.” You’ve learned to always be apprehensive and skeptical so you complicated the wording in order to spare yourself a concrete confession.
Malcolm’s lip twitched up in response and he orders two more shots. “I have a proposition for you,” he informed, throwing back his shot.
“Well, I’m not usually one to take guys in bars up on vague propositions,” you tease, mirroring his actions with your shot.
He gave another small chuckle before clarifying. “I would like for you to meet my colleagues. With what I’ve seen and heard of your abilities, I think you would make a lovely addition to the workplace and I would like to present you to them. Think of it as a job interview where you’ll be judged based on your powers and physical skills, not your interpersonal ones,” he proposed. He then exchanged his serious voice for a deep and smooth sultry one, “I would also like to believe that my proposition wouldn’t hold a candle light to that of any other man here.”
Malcolm was confident but he was also right. He was leagues beyond any of the men you already rejected from this very barstool. This particular man had a enrapturing set of blue eyes, a bright smile, a strong jawline, and a handsome dimple in his chin, not to mention his charming yet gentlemanly personality.
He must’ve noticed you ogling his features because he put on, what you were coming to call, his signature grin and raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘See something you like?’ And you most definitely did like. “What do you say, will you agree to meet my colleagues?”
“Yeah, sure,” you agree distractedly.
“Now about that other proposition…”
At the end of the night, after the bartender announced the last call, you and Malcolm headed out of the bar and decided to part ways.
“By the way, Ann. That guy that shot you earlier? His name was Puck and he had to be the most annoying and vain person in the joint, always harassing the women and usually getting away with it. If you didn’t end him in there, I’m sure someone would have sooner or later.”
“Thanks, Malcolm. I’ll see you…” you trailed off, since he didn’t give you a date or time for the meeting he roped you into.
“Tomorrow. 3:00. Does that work for you?”
“Eager to see me, huh? Yeah I’ll meet you here then.”
You both stand there lingering for a moment too long. You shook your head and giggled, breaking the almost-awkward moment, then stretched onto your tiptoes to plant a kiss on Malcolm’s cheek, feeling the slight stubble from all day. “Until tomorrow,” you whispered in his ear and swung around, leaving him in the dust.
As you returned to your apartment, you couldn’t help but dwell on all that happened tonight and what was in store for tomorrow. Malcolm told you that you the meeting was about your powers and skills, so you would most likely have to demonstrate your abilities, which meant another death and another kill.
When you arrived in front of the bar at ten to three, Malcolm was already there. You didn’t own a car, in case you died and wouldn’t be able to drive it back to your apartment building without raising some questions, but you hotwired one for today. Malcolm had his own sleek, black vehicle.
“Do you want to follow me in your car?” he asked, eyeing the lemon you swiped.
“No, I stole that one to transport a… prop. We can ditch it here if you’ll help me with the cargo.”
Malcolm followed you to the back of the car and you popped the trunk. Inside, bound, gagged, and knocked out was a woman that you kidnapped earlier.
“What the…?” Malcolm looked at you confused with his brows furrowed.
“I figured your colleagues would want a demonstration so here’s the unlucky asshat who gets to die today,” you explain, heaving the woman’s tied legs over the edge of the trunk. “Grab her shoulders, it’s bad enough I had to stuff her in there by myself.” The man beside you snapped out it and did as you instructed.
He drove you to what he dubbed as ‘the headquarters,’ therefore it was necessary to throw a bag over your head for confidentiality. Once you reached your destination, Malcolm took off the bag and helped you lug the woman into the training room. It was more difficult this time around since she woke up sometime over the journey and was now twisting and flailing as much as her restraints allowed.
“I’ll go get the other two. I originally planned to meet where there was a table and seats but the training room seems more apt in light of… recent circumstances,” Malcolm relayed. Thankfully, he didn’t seem too appalled at your plan, but it did change things.
As soon as he was out of your sight, a red flash of lightning erupted from the other entranceway and halted in front of you. That red lightning turned out to be a man that was evidently not the Flash. He was the same height as Malcolm but with neatly combed, blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
“You’re this Spectre de Mort that has Merlyn thinking he can just recruit new members, huh?” the man questioned, his face nearly touching yours.
“Yes, that’s me,” you articulated after the initial shock wore off. “And you are…?”
“Eobard Thawne or, as you have seen, the Reverse Flash.” Ah, that made slightly more sense.
“I heard you died, but then again, I know a thing or two about non-permanent deaths,” you said with a smirk on your face.
“Part of your abilities, I assume? And what of that woman in the corner there?” Eobard nodded towards your next victim.
“I figured if I wanted to prove myself, it would be best to have a full demonstration and, as immortal as you seem, I didn’t think anyone here would appreciate dying today… unless you want to get your ass handed to you…?”
A slow clap sounded from behind you coming from a man with snow white hair and icy blue eyes. What was it with this group and blue eyes?
“Damien Darhk, and I am impressed by anyone who has the balls to give Thawne the lip he deserves,” he congratulated.
Malcolm nudged the newcomer. “Ready to get this show on the road, Spectre ?” Eobard recommended, annoyed with Darhk’s comment.
“Yeah, of course. So… who wants to kill me?” Three pairs of eyes gave looks that ranged from surprised to bewildered. “Fine, lets spar. Unless you think you guys will lose…?” You knew that egging them on would invoke their testosterone-brains and spur them on.
The first one to step up was Malcolm. He exhibited apprehension at first but once you got a couple sneaky hits in on him, he revved up. You kept up a good back and forth exchange before you swiftly ducked under his arm and threw a powerful punch to the back of his head then swiped his legs out from under him. He put up a tough fight, his training made him the strongest opponent you’ve ever faced, but you used your speed and size to your advantage.
You reach an arm out to Malcolm in a show of good sportsmanship, which he took only to pull you down on top of him in a somewhat… compromising position. You blushed and scurried off him to stand back up, giving him a pointed look. “Who’s next?”
Damien Darhk stepped up to the plate. “Fair warning, I have numerous special abilities and I’m not going to go easy on you.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” you smirked at the challenge. You still had a few tricks up your sleeve.
It turned out that Damien was telekinetic and could teleport, which was tiring as hell for you. He currently had you pinned with a knife floating towards your neck. Time to bust out the new moves.
As the knife tried to pierce the fragile skin of your neck, you concentrated, your irises flashing white and you ghosted through Damien and his knife, promptly grabbing the floating knife and holding it to his neck. After a moment you lowered the weapon and moved away from your opponent.
You noticed that Malcolm was staring at you strangely and remembered that you haven’t moved through matter while alive before that he knew of. “Newly discovered. Takes a lot of concentration while I’m alive. Completely effortless when I’m dead,” you panted, resting your hands on your knees; the new move really took a lot out of you.
Darhk took his place beside Malcolm. He looked impressed, despite losing.
“Last but not least: the infamous Reverse Flash,” you announced.
Between his speed and your exhaustion from the last two fights, it’s not long before you were trapped between a wall and Eobard’s solid body. His hand vibrated as it neared your chest. “You’re sure about this?” he reiterated low enough that the other two couldn’t hear.
“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. If you want to do me a favour, however, after you kill me, use your speed to untie Madam Samara over there. Trust me,” you urged. Suddenly your heart was torn to shreds inside your body and you changed to Spectre form.
Eobard did what you asked and Samara was making a break for the door. You picked up the knife from your fight with Damien and quickly blocked her path. You didn’t care much about—well, anything in this state but particularly prolonging the inevitable. You stabbed the blade through the wench’s heart with all the force you had.
As you flickered back into your physical form, you felt proud of the appreciative and impressed expressions on the men’s faces.
“So how about it, ready for your first female member?” Your eyes automatically landed on Eobard. As fond as you were of Malcolm and as impressive Darhk’s abilities were, the Reverse Flash was clearly the leader of the team.
“You’re in,” he acquiesced and you couldn’t help the grin that took over your face.
You liked your life before the trio, but now you could feel the missing piece completing the puzzle. This group would push you and support you, satisfy you and leave you wanting more. It didn’t hurt that they were easy on the eyes, and privately, you hoped they thought the same of you.