Ammunition

The Arrival

It all started when Rip Hunter couldn't tell the difference between France and England. I mean, honestly? Rip thought, How could I, a Time Master, make such a big mistake? He would go on to believe fate had something to do with that day.

He was originally going to go to London where he could try and think about what had recently happened. He had just seen Vandal Savage murder his wife and child. The only thing that he could think about was what he had just seen. I must have been so focused on that, that I punched in the wrong coordinates. He would later remember.

He flipped the cloaking device on so no one could see his giant ship and hopped off. He'd landed on a rooftop. It wasn't that big and was just the right size for the Waverider to stay. Just in case, he took one of the pills he had that would make him understand all languages and talk in all languages.

Rip walked through a door and down some steps, not knowing where to go or what to do. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the last picture of his wife and son. They were happy and full of joy. He hoped they were even happier now.

After a second or two, there was a loud bang and he realized that there was a lot of noise coming from the ground floor. Because curiosity got the best of him, he rushed down the last flight of stairs to see what the commotion was and ran into someone.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" The young man who bumped into him apologized.

"So, I suppose this is London right?" Rip asked the boy beginning to doubt himself.

"No. You're in France." The youth replied. He was roughly Rip's height, but looked to be around  twenty or perhaps even younger. He had blonde hair and was wearing a blue jacket.

"I'm sorry? France?" Rip asked looking around at everything that was going on. "How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure?" The boy replied a bit confused, "Forgive me for asking, sir, but who are you?"

"I'm, um, Rip Hunter. I'm from East London," he looked around very confused by his surroundings, "I thought for sure..." he trailed off, "And who might you be?"

"My name is Jean Prouvaire, but my friends call me Jehan." The boy introduced himself.

Rip shrugged and decided to make the best of things. "Well, which do I call you?"

"You are welcome to call me Jehan." He smiled.

"Alright then, Jehan, can you tell me what all the racket is around here? I don't remember France being this way the last time I was here."

"It's a revolution, sir." Jehan replied full of energy.

"A revolution, you say?" Rip asked sounding a tad surprised. He realized which time period he had landed in. He had to pretend to not know anything, and that would not be as easy as it sounded.

"We are rebelling against the government. We are sick of being treated like animals." He replied vibrantly.

"Why do they still treat you like animals?" Rip asked very upset when he heard about this. "Don't they know about-" he stopped himself. He was a few decades away before the times could change. Instead he quickly asked. "Is there anything that I might be able to do? I don't usually do these things, but you've got me curious, Jehan."

"Are you willing to help us?" Jehan asked, his eyes growing wider with hope. "We are building a barricade."

"Out of caskets, chairs, and pianos?" Rip asked gesturing to the pile of wood that was slowly getting higher and higher, "How on earth will it hold together?"

"Well it's furniture, sir." He replied.

"That's been tossed out of windows from two or three stories high. Tell me, do you have any other big plans besides cornering yourselves in front of a sewer line?" Rip inquired and then realized that he might have hurt Jehan's feelings.

"Excuse me if I'm being rude," he began, "but you are putting a bit of a damper on our plans. What would you suggest we do?" He put his hands on his hips and was waiting for a response.

"Attack first of course, but then again, you could wait and see if they're going to try first. You never really can tell in revolutions." Rip decided to change the topic. "What about ammunition? Have you got enough of that to last for awhile?"

"We are collecting as much as we can," Jehan responded sounding effervescent.

"I can see that." Rip took a deep breath knowing what he was about to do. "I'm probably going to regret this later," he muttered to himself, "but I want to help."

Jehan looked up, his crystal blue eyes full of a childlike innocence and hope.

"I understand why you're fighting and I think I can help you as well." Rip continued.

"Thank you sir!" He grinned, "Enjolras will be so glad to have another volunteer."

"Who?" Rip asked pretending not to know who they all were.

"Also, if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?" Jehan inquired full of curiosity, not hearing his question.

"I'm from East London, as I told you earlier."

"You do not have a French accent," Jehan pointed out, "yet you speak perfect French?"

"I had a good teacher." Rip replied thinking of Gideon and her genius ways. "Now who is this Enjolras you speak of? Your superior?"

Jehan beamed. He thought that the more help that they got, the more chance they had at winning this battle. If only he knew.