A/N: Just a disclaimer that I'm not a historian and, while I do try to do my research before writing scenes in different time periods, there's always a chance that there will be some details I forget or don't get 100% right. So, if anyone reading this happens to be an expert on Shakespearean England, 1: that's pretty cool, and 2: please don't judge my representation of it too harshly. (To be fair, LoT takes historical liberties sometimes, too.) That being said, the next few chapters are going to be a lot more interesting if you are at least slightly familiar with Macbeth, but hopefully, you'll still enjoy it even if you're not. And finally, bonus points if you spot the small "Princess Bride" reference I threw into this chapter just for fun :)
Leonard and Sara walked along the bank of the Thames. Mona followed a few paces behind. All three of them were dressed appropriately for seventeenth century England. Leonard kept the cold gun holstered to his leg, but in accordance with Sara's order not to allow locals to see weapons from the future unless absolutely necessary, he concealed it under a long, black cloak. He looked up and saw London Bridge in the distance. "Doesn't look like it's falling down," he drawled, smirking at Sara. "That's just false advertising."
"Doesn't look like your jokes have gotten better either," she teased him back sarcastically.
He smiled and walked a little bit closer to her. "I seem to remember you liking my jokes."
"I seem to remember half of them being ice puns," she countered.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Sara looked at the fake serious expression on his face, then chuckled as she turned her head away.
Leonard noted her brief laughter and redirected his steps to walk even closer to her, almost close enough to brush against her, though not quite. "See? You do like my jokes."
Mona, who had slowly begun to catch up to the other two Legends, observed the conversation from behind. Something about their interactions caught her attention. Or, really, a few things. There was the way Snart kept leaning toward and moving closer to Sara as the two of them walked to the same rhythm. Then there was the way Sara genuinely smiled and laughed at Snart's words. There was also something about the way they spoke to each other. They were clearly enjoying themselves, but more than that, they seemed to be verbally dancing around each other, each anticipating the other's next move. Wait a minute, Mona thought, her eyes widening. Are they…flirting?
"So," Leonard said, continuing the conversation, "aside from my sense of humor, why exactly did you partner up with me on this particular mission?"
"Why not?" Sara asked. "Would you prefer someone else?"
"No," he answered just a little too quickly. "No, just curious."
"Well, it's not like I was going to take Mona instead and leave you alone with Ray. You'd drive each other crazy."
"That's fair. But why choose me in the first place?"
"I need the skills of a thief in this part of town," she explained, holding up the folded map in her hands. "We're the closest group to the Globe, so I could use a teammate who knows how to case an area."
"I'm flattered you think so highly of me," he said, "but I'm pretty sure assassins know a thing or two about that as well."
"Maybe," Sara admitted. She waited for a moment before adding, "I may have also thought it would be nice to work together again. We used to get paired up for missions all the time and, for me, it's been a while."
Leonard's face softened. "You really did miss me," he said quietly.
She smiled at him. "Did you think I was lying?"
He flashed her a snarky look. "Oh, please, Sara, between the two of us, I'm the liar. I think we both know that."
Oh my gosh, Mona thought, still watching from a short distance behind them. They are totally flirting. I did not see this coming.
"And yet," Sara countered, "your poker face has never fooled me."
"Is that so?" Leonard drawled.
"Absolutely. I can read you like a book."
"Oh really? Prove it. What am I thinking right now?" he asked. The two of them stopped in place and faced each other.
Sara crossed her arms and smirked confidently, then lifted her eyes to study his face, eventually locking eyes with his. That was a mistake. She felt frozen in place, drawn into his gaze and unable to look away. His expression was consciously neutral, but his eyes betrayed something else. Something deeper, warmer, realer. When she'd first started getting to know Leonard Snart, Sara had sometimes wondered whether that special spark in his eyes was always there, or if it was only when she was around. She'd gotten her answer at the Oculus, in the brief moment after their kiss when that spark had been brighter than she'd ever seen before. Leonard's eyes had that same admiring spark in them now. She couldn't say for sure what his exact thoughts were in that moment, but she had a few very solid guesses.
Mona stopped about two feet behind them and looked back and forth between them. Okay, she thought, what is going on here? Is this a thing? I mean, I've always been Team Ava, but wow. Something is definitely up.
Sara blinked and stepped back, finally breaking herself free. "You'd better be thinking about the mission," she said. "We still have a whole string of rifts to deal with after this one, you know." She restarted walking down the riverbank. "And we've still got a while to go until we've searched the whole hot spot, including the street by the Globe itself. Come on, Leonard." She glanced behind her at Mona, eyes still wide as she observed the scene. "You too, Mona."
Mona nodded and quickly ran to catch up with Sara. Leonard watched them walk ahead of him a few paces. He knew exactly what he had been thinking, and the thought was still running through his mind. I love you, Sara Lance, he thought. "As you wish, Captain," he said, finally following behind them.
"This is so exciting," Nate gushed as he waded through the crowded marketplace. "We're in London at the same time as Shakespeare. Do you think we'll meet him? I mean, I know it's a big city, and the goal is to prevent his play from getting screwed up, but it could still happen, right, Nora?" He stopped walking, realizing she was lagging behind him. "Nora?"
"Sorry," she muttered as she walked briskly to catch up. "Just looking around."
He looked at her quizzically. "Is something wrong, Nora?" he asked. "You've been acting weird all day."
"It's nothing," she assured him. "Just keeping a lookout for trouble. It seems to have a way of finding the Legends when we really don't need it."
The two of them began to walk again. "Yeah," Nate said as his eyes scanned the shops they passed. "Zari told me you were looking into Constantine's book earlier. Do you really think there's something coming for us?"
"Not necessarily," Nora replied. "It just seems that, with the timeline in the shape that it is, a magical threat of some kind is likely to show up."
"Well, you're magical, too. Between you and Constantine, we've got a pretty powerful team. That's got to count for something."
Nora sighed and shook her head. "It's not that simple, Nate." They turned toward the opposite end of the marketplace as she explained, "There are a million factors that go into fighting magic with magic, like what I'm fighting, how powerful it is, where it gets its power from…just, a lot."
Nate nodded understandingly. "Yeah, that makes sense. Also, now that I think about it, I'd avoid using magic at all in 1606. You really don't want to get accused of witchcraft right now."
"Agreed." She stopped walking and pointed to the nearest shop entrance. "Maybe there's something in there. Want to check it out?"
"Sure."
The two of them entered the store and found themselves surrounded by a variety of gold and silver products. "Whew," Nate breathed as he looked around, "it's a good thing Mick's not with us. He'd rob this place blind."
"Welcome, good sir," the shopkeeper said, approaching Nate. "We have the finest selections made here in London, as well as others imported from Italy, Germany, and all of Europe." He gestured grandly to the display. "Does anything catch your eye?"
Nora surprised him by answering before Nate could. "We're actually travelers," she explained, "and we're looking around to see if there have been any unusual events near here."
The shopkeeper looked confused. "Unusual events? What ever do you mean, my lady?"
Nora elbowed Nate lightly, hoping the historian would come up with a historically accurate example. Luckily, he did. "Um…we hear there's a new play at the Globe," Nate said. "Has there been any strange talk about it?"
The shopkeeper nodded slowly. "Ah, yes. The newest Shakespeare. There has been a decent bit of gossip about that." He leaned in close to Nate and said much more quietly, "There are a few who claim it is cursed."
"Cursed?" Nate and Nora echoed in unison.
"Aye, so they say," he replied, returning to his normal volume. "As for myself, I have doubts, but then again, I know gold and silver, not the theater."
Nate held up a finger and turned to Nora. "Wait…1606. I knew that year sounded familiar." He put his hand down and spoke to the shopkeeper, who seemed a bit confused by what he meant about a year sounding familiar. "Is this the play known as Macbeth?"
"Indeed, the same," the man answered. "Although I would not go around speaking its name so lightly. There are many more superstitious men than I in this city. They say it tells a tale of witches, treason, and murder. But, as I said," he added, "I know little of the theater."
Nate and Nora exchanged glances. "So," Nate asked, "about that curse, what are people saying about it? Has anyone seen bad things happen because of it?"
"None that I am certain of," the shopkeeper replied. "Merely rumors and whispers." He turned away, then paused and faced Nate and Nora again. He lowered his voice to a whisper and added, "There is one who they say knows the truth of many things unseen. If it is your wish to seek answers about curses and the like, you may want to search for the one they call Madame Mystery."
"Madame Mystery?" Nora repeated. "Who is she?"
"I know her not," he answered, still whispering, "but I hear that she has been seen in the streets and alleyways of the city. She is a cloaked woman with many gifts. They say she prefers to remain hidden from the king's men, but she can be found if earnestly sought. Every man I have heard speak of her has claimed that she possesses great knowledge of the past, present, and future."
Nate stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hm…interesting."
Nora narrowed her eyes skeptically. "But you've never seen her in person? Do you know anything about who she actually is?"
"Never," he replied, "and not the faintest. I prefer not to seek out trouble of that kind. I merely know what I hear."
"Uh-huh. And have you heard anything specific about who she is or what she does?" she asked.
"Only that she walks in the shadows and knows many secrets."
Nora thought a little, then asked, "Around when did you start hearing about her? Was it around when people started talking about Macbeth?"
"That it was."
Nate looked from the shopkeeper to Nora. "You hear that? It sounds like we have a lead."
Nora grabbed Nate's arm. "Excuse us one moment." She pulled him out of the shop. "I think we need to keep looking around," she told him once they were outside.
"What?" Nate reacted with visible surprise. "Shouldn't we ask him more about this Madame Mystery person? She might be able to tell us where the anachronism is."
"He doesn't know anything about her," Nora countered. "Only rumors too vague to go on. What we need to do is search the hot spot and see if we find her. If we do, then we don't need to ask her about the anachronism. We need to ask her if she is the anachronism."
Nate's eyes widened as the realization hit him. "Of course! She first appeared recently, and she knows about the past, present, and future. She could be from a time in the future."
"Precisely," Nora said. "She's probably just taking advantage of present-day technology and knowledge in a time period of superstition. We need to finish our sweep of this part of town and see if we find any more clues about her, but we're not going to get them from a guy who only knows rumors."
Nate nodded. "Good thinking, Nora. Let's go." The two of them walked away, continuing to search the shops lining the street.
Zari and Constantine rounded a corner in their assigned section of the city. It was relatively still and calm with only occasional pedestrians and horses passing through. Zari nearly stepped in a puddle of sludge but avoided it just in time. "Ew," she muttered. "Why are the 1600s so gross?"
"Do you actually want an answer, love?" John asked, walking carefully behind her to avoid the same puddle.
"Not really, no."
"Good, because I don't particularly feel like giving one." He stepped around her so that they were side by side and looked up and down the street they were walking along. "Seems we're in a quiet part of the city," he observed. "Not much going on, anachronistic or otherwise."
"Yeah," Zari agreed. "Maybe we should go ahead and go back to the rendezvous point. I feel like we're striking out."
As she spoke, John turned his head and spotted a sign hanging from a building across the street. It was an inn, and it looked like it was a very full one. "Now that," he said, pointing at it, "is a place where we might find some answers."
Zari looked over at the building, considering it. "I mean, I guess it's the last place around here we haven't checked. We can definitely scope it out…and he's already gone," she said as he crossed to the other side of the street. She sighed and followed him.
The inside of the inn was loud and dimly lit. It was slightly crowded, but not to the point of being overwhelming. Most of the patrons appeared to be men, but there were a few women among them. Zari slid over to John's side. "See anything?" she asked.
He nodded his head toward the nearest table. "Thought we might ask them."
Zari looked and saw a group of men of a wide range of ages speaking in hushed tones. She nodded at John and the two of them moved silently toward the table, listening in.
"I am unsure if we should going through with it," one of the younger men said as they drew closer. "Didn't you hear about the curse?"
"There is no curse," another member of the group argued. "Someone has it out for the show is all. Probably one of those uptight folks who are always complaining about Shakespeare being too vulgar. They'd love to see a curse put on one of his plays, wouldn't they?"
"But didn't you hear about the witches?" a third man at the table asked. "They say the script comes too close to the truth, and now there's a whole coven out for revenge."
"Revenge?" Constantine asked, drawing the surprised attention of the whole group. "Revenge for what, exactly?"
The seated men exchanged glances before the second speaker replied, "Revenge for writing real spells into the new play, sir. But it's all rumors. We've been at rehearsal every night and saw no conjuring or evil of any kind, save within the script."
"Rehearsal?" Zari repeated, catching on. "Oh, I see. You're the acting troupe performing Shakespeare's new play."
"Most of it," the youngest at the table answered. "Our Macduff is out and about. He should be meeting us here."
John recognized the character name immediately. "Macduff? And a play with a curse?" He slid into a space at the table, squeezing between two of the actors. "So, you're all talking about Macbeth, then, aren't you?"
"What else?" the man on his left asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's the only Shakespeare playing at the Globe these days."
"Let's just say I'm from out of town," Constantine said, leaning back casually. "Still catching up on the latest events in London."
"Well, don't let these ones frighten you," the second speaker assured him. "They're easily spooked is all. None of us would be going through with it if we believed there was true danger. Come see the show for yourself and you'll know there's nothing to fear."
Just then, a tall man burst into the inn. He hurried toward the actors, nearly trampling Zari in the process. "Apologies, miss," he said, bowing his head before turning to speak to them. Judging by the looks of recognition on their faces, Zari and John assumed he was the actor playing Macduff. "I spoke with a friend of mine," he told the troupe. "He claims that there's a woman spreading word of the curse. They call her Madame Mystery."
"Never heard of her," the man on John's right said skeptically. "What would she know of the play? She hasn't seen it, and we haven't seen her."
"No," the Macduff actor said, "but people believe her. They say she has a gift for knowing these sorts of things."
"Do you think she's part of the coven?" the youngest actor asked.
"There is no coven!" the oldest one insisted. "Just like there's no curse. I'll bet some rival playwright is paying her to say that and stir up trouble."
Zari leaned in closer to the group. "Do any of you know anything about who this Madame Mystery person is?"
"No," a few of them replied.
"Not I," the others said at the same time.
"I've only just heard of her," the Macduff actor said.
John tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. He suddenly stood up. "Well, it's been nice talking to you gents. Good luck with the show and all. Break a leg." He stepped away and whispered into Zari's ear, "There's definitely something off about that curse and whoever Madame Mystery is, but these blokes don't know anything."
"Meaning we should work our way around the inn and see if anyone else here does."
"Exactly, love. I'll go right, you go left?"
"Works for me."
The two of them separated, preparing to listen for clues.
"I hate this costume," Mick grumbled to Charlie as he adjusted his outfit. Like Leonard, he wore appropriate clothing for the seventeenth century with his weapon hidden under a cloak, although he had opted for a dark maroon version. "It itches."
"At least you get to wear trousers," Charlie pointed out, looking down at her long skirt.
"Barely," Mick remarked, scratching his breeches. "You can shift into whatever you want. If you don't like it, be somebody else."
Charlie sighed. "You know it's not that simple, mate. I still revert back to this body if I try to be someone else for too long."
Mick didn't respond, too busy looking around at the buildings and people around them. "This would be a lot more fun if there was something to steal. Just looking for stuff sucks, and we don't even know what we're looking for."
Charlie nodded in agreement, scanning the horizon for anything out of the ordinary. Not seeing anything, she shrugged and said, "Might as well finish looking over our hot spot, I suppose." She checked her map, then began to walk down the street to her right. Mick grumpily followed.
The buildings became less crowded as they moved farther from the center of the city. There were even a few open areas with grass, bushes, and gardens, though not enough to give the illusion that they weren't still in London. Suddenly, Charlie stopped. "Do you hear that, mate?" she asked, turning to Mick.
"Hear what? The sound of wasting time?"
"Shh!" she hushed, pointing in the direction of the sound. "Listen."
Mick glowered at her by obeyed. Slowly, he started to recognize what she was talking about. There was a low, coarse sound coming from a nearby building. It sounded to Mick's ears like it came from something alive, but he couldn't say for sure. "Sounds like…something."
"Exactly, mate, and not a very happy something." She listened again, then identified a small building sitting in the nearest open space behind a wooden fence. "It's coming from there." She hopped over the fence and put her ear up against the wall. "It's inside," she told Mick. "Sounds like…growling? Is that right?"
Mick reluctantly climbed over the fence to join her and placed his ear next to hers. "Yeah. Something like that."
Charlie turned around, resting her back against the wall. She looked at him expectantly. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"You're a thief, aren't you? Break us in."
He glanced down and noticed a large lock attached to a chain holding the door shut. "Why?"
"Being a good friend," Charlie replied simply. "Or curiosity. You were just saying you'd like to steal something. What if there's something worth stealing inside? You won't know until you open it."
Mick considered the idea. A smirk slowly crossed his face. "I do like breaking into places," he admitted.
Charlie patted his shoulder supportively. "There you go, mate."
He waved her aside as he bent down to examine the lock. Snart had always been the better lockpicker between the two of them, but Mick was still quite skilled in that area. His analysis determined that this lock required a fairly simple key that would be easy to imitate with the right instrument. It was also an old lock with rust beginning to build up along its edges, just barely strong enough to keep the door fastened shut. He looked up at Charlie and asked, "Got any paperclips on you?"
She shook her head.
He shrugged. "Guess we're doing this the other way, then." He stood up, pulled his heat gun out of his cloak, and banged the handle forcefully against the lock three times until it was bent out of shape. He holstered his weapon and stomped his boot on the damaged lock, making it drop to the ground. He turned to Charlie. "Well, you want to go in or not?"
Charlie stepped toward the door. The two of them grabbed onto its edges and pulled it wide open. Inside was a dark room, seeming like a sort of stable. Charlie looked at the back corner of the room, then gasped. "Mick, look!"
Mick walked toward her. "Is that a…"
"Bear," Charlie finished for him. "There's a bear and it's caged up. Do you see it?"
Mick peered at the shape. Charlie's description was accurate. A cage with metal bars was pushed against the far wall. Inside it, a bear wearing a metal collar crouched and snarled. "Yeah, I see it," Mick said warily.
Charlie spun around to face Mick, anger in her eyes. "Do you know what they do to bears in this time period? The same thing that bloody fairy godmother witch did to me. Force them to act like monsters and then make a show of it. Bear baiting, they call it." She crossed her arms, still fuming. "I'll bet that's what they're keeping this one here for. It's not the monster in this scenario, I can promise you that." She took a cautious step closer to the animal.
"Hey," Mick said, keeping his voice low, "what are you doing? You want to make it madder?"
"Not until we break it out, I don't."
"Oh." Mick watched her uneasily. "We're…breaking it out?"
"Don't you always like a good prison break, Mick?"
"Well, yeah," he admitted, "but I don't know anything about bears."
Charlie examined the locked door of the cage, then looked sharply back at Mick. "We need to either break or open this lock," she whispered, trying not to startle the bear with any sudden moves or noises. "It's built into the door, so I don't think your gun will do the trick this time."
"Then what? We'll just…have a bear?"
Charlie thought for a moment. "We can get Ray to shrink it, then set it loose in the woods somewhere. Or we can have Nora put it under a spell while we get it somewhere safe. I doubt moving one bear will change the timeline much."
"I don't care about the timeline," Mick replied gruffly. "I care about not getting mauled."
"Better yet, we ought to have Mona," Charlie said, ignoring Mick's concerns. "She's got a way with all creatures, magical or not."
"We don't have her," Mick reminded her. "We have you and me. And now you want us to have a bear."
"I know that, mate. Just thinking." She looked up at him again, this time more solemnly. "You let me out of my cage once, even when Constantine and everyone else still thought I was a monster. This one's probably done less harm than I ever did. Are you really going to pick now to start playing jailor?"
Mick stared at her silently for a moment, then shook his head in defeat. "Fine."
She smiled at him. "I knew I could count on you." She hopped up to her feet and began to plan aloud, "First, we'll find a way to unlock the cage. We can slip that rope over there through the bars and tie it around its collar before opening the door, just to make sure it doesn't run loose and hurt anyone. Don't worry, Mick," she assured him with a glance backward, "I'll do that part. If it bites, I can just transform a couple times and then won't have a scratch. Then, we'll take it to the Waverider and let Gideon find a safe place for it. Simple, really. Now, about that lock…"
"Hey!" a man's voice shouted.
Charlie and Mick turned quickly to face the open door and saw a furious man standing there.
"Ah…hello, good sir," Charlie said innocently. "Lovely weather we're having."
The man stomped in, glaring at them. "Intruders! What are you doing on my property?"
"Not stealing anything," Mick answered. Under his cloak, his hand hovered over his heat gun.
Charlie noticed the look on his face and knew he was eager to attack. She placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Calm down. Let me handle this." She stepped forward toward the owner and spoke loudly, "What are you doing with this creature? You think he likes being locked up and made a spectacle of?"
"Is it any of thy business, trespasser?"
She placed her hands on her hips. "I might be a trespasser, but at least I'm not a bear-baiting wanker like you."
"Perhaps not," he spat, "but thou art an artless, fool-born varlet all the same!"
Charlie threw her head back and laughed, then stared at the man with a mischievous grin. "Oh, is that how you want to play this game, you…" she thought for a moment before finishing, "…qualling…ill-bred turd?"
"Game?" Mick repeated confusedly. "What game? What are you saying?"
The man shot back, "Thou art a crusty, boil-brained flirt-gill!"
Charlie returned, "And you're a frothy, toad-spotted carbuncle!"
Mick squinted at the two of them, trying to make sense of the conversation. "Are you even speaking English?"
"Shakespeare's English, mate," Charlie explained. "I never fancied reading him much, but there's no denying the man's an artist when it comes to his insult style."
"Enough!" the owner shouted. He grabbed a pitchfork that was laying against the wall. He pointed it at the two of them threateningly. "Give me any more trouble and I'll call for the constable."
Charlie held up her hands. "Easy, mate. Just having a little fun with you." She muttered under her breath, "Now, Mick."
Mick began to put up his hands, but at the last moment, pulled out his signature weapon and blasted a stream of flame into the air. Their captor was too stunned to move, giving Mick enough time to tackle him to the ground, pull a ring of keys out of his pocket, and toss it to Charlie. She grabbed a nearby rope and ran to unlock the cage.
"Witchcraft!" the man gasped, still lying under Mick.
"Nope," the rogue responded nonchalantly. "Heat gun."
Charlie fiddled with the keys until she found one that matched. "Easy, mate," she whispered soothingly to the bear, trying to keep it calm as she worked the lock with one hand and prepared the rope with the other. "Just stay still."
"First Madame Mystery," the man said fearfully, "then a cursed play, and now this? The whole bloody city's gone mad!"
Charlie raised an eyebrow as she finally heard the lock click open, though she continued to hold the door shut with her hand. "Madame who? What curse?"
She didn't get an answer. The bear, realizing its freedom, charged forward, shoving the door open before Charlie had a chance to reach through with the rope. Mick got up and ran out of its path. The man he had tackled grabbed his pitchfork again to defend himself. He managed to hit back hard enough to spook the bear before it could hurt him, sending it fleeing out of the stable. When he returned to his feet, neither the bear nor the two intruders remained.
Mick dragged Charlie along, cutting through the grassy space behind the bear's former prison. "Oi," Charlie protested, "what about the bear?"
"Forget the bear!" Mick grunted. "I didn't come to the 1606 to get arrested. Rule Number Four!"
"What's Rule Number Four?"
"Never mind," he said exasperatedly as they reached a much busier street. "You can ask Snart about it later. Just run!" They ducked into the crowd and shoved their way away from the scene as quickly as possible.
A/N: No, Madame Mystery is not an OC, but she's definitely not someone the Legends are expecting to show up in 1606. You'll find out her real name next chapter...
