The Other Palmer-Leonard Snart/Sara Lance/Zari Tomaz

How fucking great...

Snart's POV

Mick tapped my shoulder, as my eyes followed Arianna out of the bridge.

"You hit that?" He asked proudly.

"No, she's not like that." I told him, my eyes still in the place Arianna was minutes ago.

"What is this one doing to you?" He asked grumpily.

"I don't know Mick. I don't know. Now, let's go find the jumpship. I need to steal something."

Arianna's POV

Me, Sara, and Rip had made it to the bank in our new '70's outfits. We approached the receptionist.

"Excuse me, we'd like to deposit some family heirlooms." Rip told the woman.

"I'm sorry, we're a private bank. We don't secure valuables less than 10 million."

"Well, I'm sure this will suffice." Rip pulled something out of his briefcase. "Doubloons from the wreck of the Esplanade. They've been appraised at 10 million dollars. Apiece." She smiled at us.

"Right this way." As we walked to the office, me and Sara turned around. Behind the receptionist's desk was a silent beretta. The guards had initiation marks on their necks. South African Mercenaries. We were screwed. Me and Sara nodded at each other before carrying on.

XXX

The accountant shook Rip's hand.

"Such a pleasure. You won't regret your decision. The Brüemberg group is known for their discretion."

"I'm sure there will be a fair amount of paperwork to sign."
"Not too much. We like to cut through the red tape here. Let me get this to one of our safe deposit boxes, and I'll get my secretary to move in on this paperwork." He walked away and Rip rushed over to the computer.

"Interesting, there are records here referring to something called the vessel."

"We have a problem." I told Rip. Me and Sara got out of our chairs.

"Yes, I know. None of Savage's funds are in this bank. I'm working on locating this vessel, but I'm not sure I'll do so before our new friend returns."

"To kill us." Rip looked up from the computer.

"The receptionist had a silenced beretta under her desk. The guards, South African mercenaries. You can tell by the initiation burns on their neck." I started.

"And our new friend has calluses on his right hand consistent with Kuroda trained swordsmen." Sara finished.

"How do you know?"

"Because she has those same calluses. Which means they've probably figured out we're not Rockefeller's who've just come into their inheritance."

"Oh, don't be so alarmist." He dismissed us, looking back at the computer. "Calluses are hardly definitive proof of everything.

"Pretty sure they made us." We turned around and saw the accountant holding a sword, the receptionist with the beretta and the guards with their fists up.

"Well if this is how you treat your customers, we might just have to take our business elsewhere." Me and Sara stormed up behind him, taking knives out of our holsters, throwing them at the receptionist and one at a guard. Rip turned to us angry.

"I thought I specifically said no weapons!"

I patted his shoulder. "You can thank us later." A mercenary approached me and tried to punch me, but I ducked, sending my knife into his stomach. Another guard approached me, sending multiple punches my way. I blocked them all. I attempted to drive my knife through his chest, but he grabbed my hand and drove the knife into my lower abdomen. I pulled the knife out, and roundhouse kicked him, knocking him unconscious. I turned around and saw Sara about to kill the accountant.

"Sara don't!" I yelled, clutching my wound. "We didn't get anything off of the computer. We need him alive." She stopped the knife just before his neck and knocked him out. I spat out a lot of blood and looked at Rip and Sara.

"How fucking great." I told them, wiping blood from my chin.