Chapter 6: Savage Beginnings & Stalker Antics
Time travel. Seriously, who knew it smelled faintly of ozone and Rip Hunter's perpetually stressed-out cologne? Adam, ever the connoisseur of the absurd, found himself subtly tucked away in the Waverider's cargo bay, having teleported aboard just before its dramatic departure from Central City. He'd barely registered the blur of the time jump before the System helpfully chimed in.
[SYSTEM: Temporal Jump Initiated. Destination: 1975. Warning: Temporal Displacement Detected. Suggestion: Acquire a period-appropriate disguise. Your current attire is… anachronistic.]
"Anachronistic? Oh, System, you wound me," Adam thought, smoothing down his perfectly modern (and now slightly wrinkled) t-shirt. "This is called 'fashionably late to the past.' Besides, who needs a disguise when you can just… disappear?" He chuckled, picturing the bewildered faces of any 1970s fashionistas trying to comprehend his sartorial choices.
The Waverider landed with a gentle thud, and the Legends, looking appropriately grim and heroic, disembarked. Their mission: stop Vandal Savage. His mission: observe, assist subtly, and, most importantly, continue his tireless campaign to annoy Sara Lance into a date.
He watched from a discreet distance as the team fanned out into 1975. "Alright, Adam, this is your chance. Showmanship. Subtlety. And maybe a little bit of 'I'm totally not stalking you, I just happen to be everywhere you are' charm."
Sara, ever the picture of lethal grace, moved through the bustling 1975 street with a focused intensity. Adam, meanwhile, teleported ahead, then behind, then slightly to her left, just enough to catch her eye.
"Fancy meeting you here, White Canary," Adam said, appearing suddenly beside her, a casual lean against a very confused lamppost. "Enjoying the… retro vibes? Personally, I'm digging the bell bottoms. Very aerodynamic for a hero, don't you think?"
Sara, mid-stride, flinched, her hand instinctively going for a weapon that wasn't there. She spun, eyes narrowed. "You again? How in the hell…?"
"Trade secret," Adam winked. "But seriously, you look like you've seen a ghost. Or, you know, a persistent, charming individual who just happens to be a master of temporal stealth." He leaned in conspiratorially. "So, about that coffee? Or, since we're in the 70s, maybe a disco-themed milkshake? My treat."
Sara's lips twitched, a mix of exasperation and a hint of a smile. "You're relentless, you know that?"
"Comes with the territory," Adam shrugged. "So, date? Just one. I promise not to make any more bad puns. Probably."
Sara sighed, a long-suffering sound. "Look, I'm a little busy trying to stop an immortal warlord from destroying the timeline. Maybe later, when the world isn't actively trying to end?"
"Fair enough," Adam conceded, though his eyes sparkled with a challenge. "But if you need a distraction for, say, a particularly annoying henchman, or a sudden, inexplicable flock of rubber ducks, you know who to call."
He then teleported away, leaving Sara to shake her head, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips. "Progress," Adam thought triumphantly. "She almost smiled. That's like a full-blown declaration of love in assassin-speak."
He found Mick Rory, who was already looking grumpy, probably because 1975 lacked sufficient opportunities for arson. Rory was trying to hotwire a car, muttering curses under his breath.
"Perfect," Adam mused. He focused, picturing a giant, sentient rubber duck, about five feet tall, waddling purposefully towards Rory.
[SYSTEM: Illusion deployed. Target: Mick Rory. Effect: Extreme Confusion.]
The duck, glowing faintly, let out a loud, indignant "QUACK!" and then began to waddle in circles around Rory's legs.
Rory froze, mid-wire-cut. He stared at the duck. He blinked. He rubbed his eyes. "What the…?! Snart, did you see that?! A giant… quacker!"
Snart, who had just walked up, took one look at Rory's bewildered face and the empty space where the duck had been. He raised an eyebrow, a rare flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You're seeing things, Rory. Lay off the cheap hooch."
"But it was… it was quacking!" Rory insisted, looking genuinely disturbed.
Adam, hidden nearby, stifled a giggle. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Rory's going to be my personal canvas for existential dread."
He then observed Vandal Savage, a figure of imposing, ancient menace. The System immediately provided a warning.
[SYSTEM: External Energy Signature: Vandal Savage. Analysis: Historical Anomaly. High Energy Output. Suggestion: Avoid Direct Confrontation for Optimal Survival.]
"Yeah, yeah, System, I get it. Don't poke the immortal bear," Adam thought. "But a little subtle interference? That's just good narrative hygiene." He watched as Savage moved, a chilling aura of power around him. Adam decided against any direct pranks on Savage for now. There was a fine line between comedic chaos and getting vaporized, and he preferred to stay on the side of comedic. For now.
He spent the rest of the day subtly disrupting Savage's goons with illusions – making them see non-existent tripwires, or causing their weapons to briefly turn into harmless flowers. Nothing major, just enough to make them question their sanity and give the Legends an easier time.
As the sun set over 1975, Adam teleported back to a discreet corner of the Waverider, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Day one of time travel: success. Sara slightly annoyed, Rory thoroughly confused, and Savage none the wiser. This is the life."