History Has Its Eyes on Me | DC's LOT

-5-

"And we've arrived." Rip spoke to the group, "Gideon if you wouldn't mind camouflaging us as an alpine meadow, perhaps?"

Mick put his hand on his head with a groan. Snart raised an eyebrow at him, "What are you complaining about now? It's not like we time-jumped."

"I hate flying. Especially in..." Mick pointed up, "Whatever this thing is."

Allyn got up from her seat, "Where are we? I'm assuming we're still in 1975."

"Correct you are Allyn." Rip got up from his spot, "October 1975 on the fjords of northern Norway."

"Sounds like a vacation." Quinn mused, patting Mick on the back as he stood up.

"Which we can take as soon as the threat of Savage has been neutralized, Ms. Duran." Rip walked into his lounge room, lifting up a journal from his desk.

Carter recognized it, "That's Aldus' notebook."

"Now he theorized that Savage might be here, and if he's right, and if we can capture Savage, then at least Professor Boardman didn't die in vain."

Kendra released a heavy sigh, "Can't we just go back and save Aldus?"

"He was our son."

"Look, I'm sorry." Rip completely dismissed the idea, waving his hand at them, "We can't go back and change events in which we participated. Time would fold in on itself, creating a temporal vortex."

"Which sounds cooler than it is," mumbled Ray.

Sara looked over at him, "Forgetting physics for a second, shouldn't we figure out what Savage is doing in Norway?"

"According to Gideon, there is a large meeting of terrorists and fringe groups looking to buy illegal arms."

Mick grinned at the thought of it, "Now that sounds like a vacation."

"To you it does," Quinn says, glancing back at him from her spot beside Sara.

Snart smirked, leaning his body on the table in front of him, "Arms dealers and terrorists aren't exactly our kind of people, but they're the next best thing."

Carter crossed his arm, "Well, looks like you and your lapdog get to earn your keep."

"I'm no one's lapdog, birdman," Mick growled under his breath.

Quinn smirked, raising an eyebrow, "With that kind of growl, I disagree."

Allyn glances down at her clothes, then back at Rip, "We don't exactly blend in, Rip. What do we wear to a black market arms bazaar?"

"The Waverider has a fabrication room which can fashion temporally-indigenous, uh, fashion." Rip answers her, walking back into his lounge and setting the journal down.

Jefferson chuckled, "You've got a room that makes clothing?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Rip says back, not even bothering to face them.

"Well." Quinn smiles in amusement, "How about we go get in something new?"

Kendra nodded her head, "Totally."

Allyn tugged at her jacket, "Oh great..." She followed them, "I don't think I'd look good in 70s clothes."

Quinn's hip bumped the woman, "Why? Looking to impress someone?"

Allyn glanced at the ginger funny, "No."

"Then." Quinn smirked, "Impress yourself."

Allyn rolled her eyes, looking at Sara, "You deal with this?"