(Scenes from Legends of Tomorrow Season 4, Episode 8)
Another aberration—a leprechaun—has been spotted in 1962 Las Vegas. I relay the information to Steel, The Atom, and Heatwave. The Custodians of Chronology are fired up to take the magical creature down. Garima is the only other person on the Waverider. We barely interact except when she demands me to fabricate more beer. After the guys completed their mission, they returned to the aircraft. The Atom is very excited over encountering Miss Marilyn Monroe in Las Vegas. He intends to recount it to Garima. Contrary to Steel's doubts, Heatwave verifies that his lady friend is fairly interested in the actress.
The foursome congregates in the parlour. Steel asks me if there are any messages left for them. I report the missed calls from Mr. Oliver Queen, Mr. Barry Allen, and Miss Kara Zor-El. The Atom surmises that they're all regarding the annual crossover. They all decline the offer with scornful disinterest. Having noticed someone else boarding the ship, I tailed the intruder through the corridor to the library. The trespasser, who seems to be Miss Jiwe, tries to reason with a feline Miss Tomaz. "All right, yeah, I can see being a cat is your main concern right now," she assesses, "but I still don't know why you are a cat."
I present myself to her by appearing as a bodied hologram. "Miss Tomaz was turned into a cat during the team's encounter with a Fairy Godmother."
She is fascinated by my modern advancement. "Whoa, Gideon, your latest upgrade. Smoking."
"Thank you, Miss Jiwe."
She seems a tad confused at first, but she remembers herself. "Yep, Amaya Jiwe. That's me."
"And may I say your latest upgrade and accent are also smoking."
She is flattered by my compliment. "Oh, yeah?"
"Mm-hm."
"You know, I'm just trying something out." Miss Tomaz meows, which shifts the course of our conversation. "Okay, one last question. Why are the Legends homicidal wankers now?"
"If you're referring to the Custodians of the Chronology, their policy towards magical creatures has been 'shoot on sight' since their disastrous encounter at Woodstock."
"Right." Miss Jiwe nods, "Thanks, Gideon." With that, my hologram vanishes. She mumbles something about Constantine altering the timeline. She shapeshifts into Captain Lance and greets the team in the parlour. That is a foolish mistake for two reasons. For one, the captain was slain by the unicorn at Woodstock. Director Sharpe has fallen into a profound grief and haven't visited since the memorial service. The other is that the Custodians were quick to rumble the charade. Thus, she inadvertently exposed herself as their "great white whale". Garima stabs the shapeshifter in the abdomen. Instead of dying, she reverts to embodying Miss Jiwe and flees. The Custodians' exultation is curtailed as they note this and hound her. They are unable to snare her and find Miss Tomaz missing.
The Atom warns the others of the stolen jumpship. Retrieving its travel logs, they uncover the most recent location: present-day Washington D.C. Steel commands me to plot a course for the Time Bureau HQ. They all disembark upon landing. As I wait for their return, an energy wave comes through here.
The three of us have a bright and early morning. We started with an hour-long training session, a shower, and breakfast. We strut through the Time Bureau's halls. An inattentive agent bumps into us. She is consequently shoved to a wall. A trio of male agents wisely get the message. White Canary exclaims, "Out of our way, suckers!"
Roundhouse declares, "Make way for S.O.S."
I hear someone muttering, "The hell is S.O.S?" As we do our signature pose, allow me to introduce ourselves. We are the Sirens of Space-Time, better known as S.O.S. Confident, merciless, and drop-dead gorgeous, we are not your typical assassins. We track down and slew magical creatures running loose in time. Our group consists of White Canary, Roundhouse, and me, Hard Drive.
Our boss Hank Heywood anticipates us in his office. He is drinking a mug of coffee as he does daily. His mouth curls into a lopsided smile when we enter. "Good morning, Sirens."
"Good morning, Hank," we chime, surrounding his desk.
"Well, I hope you're ready to go to work today because we have one hell of a case on our hands." Hank gives us the rundown. The U.S. Department of Treasury has minted new coins. A band of hobgoblins are going to sabotage the upcoming release.
We relocate ourselves to the artillery. "All right, ladies. Weapons check." We each attain our distinctive equalizers. White Canary accesses the Heat gun, previously owned by Mr. Rory. "Are we all geared up?"
Roundhouse wields the Cold gun, priorly utilized by Mr. Snart and Dr. Palmer. "Way ahead of you, babe."
Mine is smaller but always loaded. It once belonged to a close friend. I don't need to tell you who. "My pistol's hot and ready."
"Hey, girls." We look across the entrance. A grinning Miss Jiwe saunters in. "Save some fun for me." What a surprise.
White Canary buoyantly questions, "Amaya, what are you doing here?"
"We thought you went back to 1942," Roundhouse infers.
"I did, but then I heard about your monster problem, and, well, I couldn't stay away."
"It's perfect timing. We are up to our peaches with magical creatures and about to kick ass." White Canary bestows her a standard handgun.
She accepts, expressing, "I'm in." As we exit the armory, I notify White Canary and Roundhouse that "Miss Jiwe" is emitting a unique scent. To thwart this dicey lookalike from eluding us, we resolved to play along with her little game. We escort "Miss Jiwe" into the meeting hall for drinks and an outline of our assignment. "So, what kind of fun costumes are we gonna need for this mission?"
"We don't do costumes anymore," Roundhouse expounds. "Yeah, we stopped, so we could streamline missions."
"Yeah, why get all dressed up if we're just wasting these magical creatures straight away," I presume.
"Miss Jiwe" almost chokes on her whiskey. She manages to avoid losing face. "I mean, you don't keep a trophy room of their skulls, do you?"
We chortle at her response. "Like what? Barbarians," White Canary jokes. "No, we just toss them." That's the truth.
The imposter's smile disappears effectively. "You what?"
Roundhouse elucidates, "Yeah, ever since that Fairy Godmother killed Nate, Ray, and Rory, we just waste any magical creature that comes in our path. No questions asked." White Canary pretends her hand is a gun blasting three rounds.
"Well, they can't all be bad."
"We haven't met a good one," White Canary retorts. "By the way, how is Zambesi?"
"Who?" The more she slips up, the easier it is to expose her.
"Zambesi," I recall. "Where you're from."
She quickly remembers her "village". "Oh, it's great. Yeah, it's, like, chill. Super chill." That is one word we never heard the real Miss Jiwe use. At this moment, we bide our time as the imposter chugs her drink. We're making her nervous. Good. She excuses herself to make a private call. We stealthily followed her into the hallway. "Oi, wake up, losers. I know how to fix it. We got to take care of the Fairy Godmother in Salem." We got her. "Fire up the ship. I'm heading out there now."
"Cor blimey," White Canary taunts with a fake accent, quickly alerting our target. "No more tea and crumpets for this dodgy doppelganger." She points her thumb at me, continuing, "Hard Drive here knew you weren't really Amaya all along."
I disclose, "I'm equipped to detect shapeshifter pheromones." We've been vying to capture one for months, but there wasn't a sighting until now.
"How fortunate our white whale swam right into our net," Roundhouse banters.
"What is with you guys and white whales?" Apparently, she doesn't read Moby Dick. We have our guns on cue. "Oh, you think you three can take me?"
White Canary boasts, "Oh, I can take you alone." She, Roundhouse, and I mock her goading attempt. Our lack of concentration enables the shapeshifter to abscond. "Damn it! Get back here!" We were hot on her heels, but she outran us after a long pursuit. "Now, what?"
I put forward, "Don't we have hobgoblins to deal with?"
"What's better, a bunch of trolls stealing coins or a rare shapeshifter?"
Roundhouse reminds her, "There's always next time, babe."
She rolls her eyes, groaning, "Fine." She can't say no to her. A resigned smirk appears on her face. "Come on, ladies. Let's clamp down some hobgoblins." Just as we seize those troublemakers, a mystifying force cascades through town.
Dr. Palmer and Mr. Rory are relaxing in the bridge. Captain Lance is browsing a random search on the console. A portal suddenly opens in one of the side doors. Director Sharpe steps in unannounced, which puzzles the latter. "Ava, I wasn't expecting to see you here."
There is a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, the Bureau got an emergency alert about a magical presence in New Orleans, 2018. I thought maybe we could check it out together."
The team generally feels up to it. "Let's get to work."
"Cool." The captain asks me to plot a course pronto. As I fly them to their destination, Mr. Rory and Dr. Palmer gather their weapons for a final check. Director Sharpe seems uncharacteristically disturbed by this. "Blimey, that's a lot of ammo." I'm certain she was displaced from Vancouver, not Liverpool.
The captain also catches this oversight. "'Blimey'?"
"Huh? I mean, wow."
"All right, boys, orders are shoot to kill."
The director protests, "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Shouldn't we discuss what kind of creatures we're dealing with here? We can't just go in there guns a-blazing. What if whatever's causing this is just a little misguided?"
"It's a magical fugitive," Dr. Palmer rashly states.
"We kill those," Mr. Rory grunts, holding a bottle of beer.
"You two head out," Captain Lance directs them. "Stay on the comms." While they are sent off, Director Sharpe steps aside for a minute. She looks more unnerved as she joins the captain by the console. "All right, Gideon, what are we looking at?"
"I've located multiple targets on the ground, each one with a substantial magical signature."
"Do we have a visual yet," the concerned director inquires.
I download the surveillance footage. "Coming right now." The results pop up on the panels. Captain Lance recognizes the spiky-haired man in the photos.
"Wait, that's John Constantine, and there's three of him." She flashes a wicked smile. "Looks like our shapeshifter has a shapeshifter friend."
"Wait a minute, how do you know that's not really Constantine out there," Director Sharpe questions.
"Because John Constantine doesn't time travel. Believe me, I tried to recruit him."
"Okay, why not capture all three, so we can find out if any of them is the real John?"
The captain gazes bafflingly at her significant other. "What's wrong with you? You feeling okay?"
"I'm fine," she persists. "I'm just a firm believer in taking precautions."
Captain Lance snorts, "Precautions. Good one." Even so, whoever this person is, she's not Director Sharpe. "Ray, Rory, what's your status?"
"All right, we're in position," Dr. Palmer reports, "with our sights on the shapeshifter."
"When do we get to shoot," Mr. Rory confirms.
"All right, on my mark, open fire."
"Sara, don't," Director Sharpe beseeches. This causes the captain to miss her cue and lose her patience.
"Dammit, Ava! Why not?"
She resignedly exhales, "Because I'm the shapeshifter." I knew it. She changes into Miss Jiwe with a rocker style.
Captain Lance is completely dumbfounded. "Guys, stand down. We have a code blue on the ship." She approaches the creature who has impersonated her main squeeze. "So, you're the shapeshifter. Why do you look like Amaya?"
"It is complicated, but this is how you met me." The captain's mind remains largely muddled. "What happened to the Legends to make you like this?"
"What do you mean?"
"You guys are so intent on killing magical creatures. Can't you see this is wrong?"
Captain Lance reflects on it for a minute. She walks past the shapeshifter, only to stop as they stand adjacent. "Not really." With that, she gives her a swift snap in the neck. The latter drops to the floor. Assuming she's dead, the captain checks in on Dr. Palmer and Mr. Rory. They update her on Mr. Constantine using a memory flasher on a civilian. Dr. Palmer demands when they can shoot him. "Wait for my signal. I'm dealing with a situation on the ship. Constantine might be—" She turns around to find the shapeshifter alive and kicking. "Hold on a second, Ray." She grabs a firearm and meets the invader head-on. "Look, I don't know who you are or why you are on my ship, but you're never leaving." She aims the weapon at her chest.
"Wait, Sara, please," the shapeshifter pleads. "Just tell me why you're so intent on killing magical creatures."
The captain coolly looks her in the eye. "Because that's how we stay alive." She pulls the trigger; however, the shapeshifter doesn't succumb to the gunshot wound. The skin is regenerated without leaving a scratch. Captain Lance blinks at her gun as if it's loaded with blanks.
Facing her shooter, the shapeshifter exclaims, "Stop doing that! Don't you remember London?"
"No."
"When you and I first met, I helped you see the truth about magical creatures."
The captain smiles, not believing her. "How did you do that?"
"By being me." Her voice grows desperate. "By showing you that I'm not here to hurt humans. That not all monsters need to be put down."
"That's cute," Captain Lance smirks, "but it never happened."
"What—How can you not remember?" A realization hits the shapeshifter. "Bollocks. Because of Constantine, you and I never met, and you never changed. I'm the missing ingredient in every one of these botched timelines."
The captain sets the firearm down as she advances to her. "I'm sorry, but all I see is a threat that needs to be taken out. Ray, fire when ready." The former is about to deliver a flying kick at the latter, who is about to block it, when an energy wave flows through the Waverider.
Captain Lance just kicked Mike the Spike, who has possessed the Professor Stein puppet, in the spine. He flies straight to a wall, thus knocking him out. She and Dr. Palmer have him strapped to a dolly convenient for his size. Afterwards, they carry Director Sharpe to the medbay for treatment. Mr. Constantine, Charlie, and Miss Tomaz have returned from 2018 New Orleans. They are troubled to discover the apprehended puppet. "This isn't over, you dingalings," he objects. "You better watch your knees, Sara Lance."
Miss Tomaz complains, "Oh no, is everyone a puppet again?"
Captain Lance walks in, asking, "What? What are you talking about?" Her human presence as well as Dr. Palmer's is a relief to them.
"I'll kill you all," the puppet claims prior to being gagged by the astrophysicist.
"I got an anti-magic isolation chamber with your name on it, Mike the Spike." He tows him away.
Charlie rubs her hands in delight. "Ah, the usual insanity that passes for normal around here."
"What is this?" The captain quizzically observes their interaction. "Why are you being so weird?" Charlie and Miss Tomaz leave Mr. Constantine to explain. He offers her a drink with the tale he intends to tell. "Hm, one of those stories. Let's go." She promptly escorts him to the parlour.
As soon as they left the bridge, the shapeshifter apologizes to the computer specialist not only for "stuffing [her] into a bag" and "destroying nearly all of history", but for also getting off on the wrong foot. The latter doesn't seem to buy it. The former confesses, while she could've shifted into anyone when she regained her powers, she resumes being "Miss Jiwe" because she appeared that way when she first joined the Legends. She finds them to be "not rubbish". Thank you, Charlie. Miss Tomaz acknowledged that destroying history for selfish reasons has become a rite of passage. For that, she accepts Charlie's apology. The latter teases the former for thinking she—or Miss Jiwe—is "hot".
Director Sharpe is on the mend. She is reading Mr. Rory's manuscript. The latter enters the medbay with a tray full of cookies. "I made snickerdoodles with your recipe. Not bad."
"Hmm, I'm on the last chapter of your novel. Your female characters are shallow, libidinous, and so much fun to read." She admits that with a genuine smile.
"Hmm." He requites with the same expression. "Thanks."
"Yeah, good job..." She flips back to the title page. "Umm... Rebecca Silver?"
"Nom de plume." It's French for "name of the pen" or "pen name".
"Got it. So, let me get this straight. They're making love on the surface of the sun?"
"It's a... a metaphor."
"Got it," she confirms with a characteristic smirk. It's safe to say that sharing each other's interests has terminated their discord. I presume Captain Lance will love this. Speaking of whom, she intently listens to Mr. Constantine retelling how he went back in time to erase memories of his relationship with Desmond to absurd outcomes. He stands up as he reaches the end. "And the worst part... It didn't make a bloody difference. I was a fool thinking I could outrun this fight, flying around with you lot."
"Yeah, we tend to fly directly into fights," the captain affirms. "But we do it together and we have your back."
The soothsayer receives her implicit offer. "Well, as long as you know what you're getting yourself into, because a demon like Neron doesn't just like to win. He likes to win in the cruelest possible way." I can only imagine.
A/N: Happy New Year. Brace yourselves because things are going to get messy.