Bart Allen, newest inheritor of the legacy of the Flash, slammed himself to the side as he dodged a lightning bolt, a spray of ice, and a great spout of flame. Dammit, all of them? This soon? He'd only just gotten the suit. This was insane.
He pulled himself up and glared at Captain Cold, who was standing just a little in front of the other Rogues. "What the hell is your problem?"
Oh yeah, that was mature. He was really living up to the legacy.
Cold just grinned. "Thought we'd throw you a welcoming party."
"But I'm not him! Don't you get it? I haven't even done anything to you! I've barely even met you. What's the point?"
Cold narrowed his eyes. "We know you're not him. But are you the Flash?"
Suddenly he was hyper-aware of the suit he wore. Brilliant red, the lightning bolt sewn proudly on the front. His grandfather's suit. Wally's suit. His suit.
Are you the Flash? "Yes. Yes I am."
And Cold smiled. "Then we dance."