"Uh, people—maybe we should move first?" Rip Hunter said, rubbing his temples.
"Like, before Vandal Savage's goons catch up? We can talk experiments after we're not being hunted?"
No one objected. Even Captain Cold was busy weighing his odds—was trading a few years of life worth gaining powers he might naturally develop anyway?
Once they agreed to regroup, Rip cleared his throat and got serious again.
"Our target tonight is Vandal Savage. We'll strike during his public rally. Miss Queen," he turned toward Thea, "any advice?"
Thea's lips twitched.
Advice? For that guy?
She was honestly getting tired of these "ancient immortals" who'd lived for millennia yet still hadn't learned anything useful.
Four thousand years of life, and the man's greatest achievement was… throwing knives.
That was it.
Even Ra's al Ghul had better career highlights.
At her current power level, she could literally blow on him and turn him to dust.
The difference was that vast.
Strategy? Pointless.
Still, she hadn't forgotten how Gideon had played her earlier.
If she swooped in and one-shotted Savage, the Legends would just stand there taking the credit and looting the boss drop.
No way.
Then again, returning to her original timeline would strip her powers away—might as well enjoy them while they lasted.
That urge to fight it out, to feel the power burn through her veins, drowned out the irritation.
"I'll go with you," she said lightly.
Her tone, however, was not up for debate.
Rip almost jumped for joy.
He didn't even pretend to argue—having a walking supernova on his side sounded great.
⸻
By nightfall, Rip led Sara, Heat Wave, and their level-999 tag-along, Thea Queen, toward the rally site.
Even though her solar energy dimmed slightly after sundown, Thea's baseline was so absurdly high that it hardly mattered.
Captain Cold had wanted to join too—but Thea's casual remark, "You can't touch your freeze gun,"
made him instantly decide to sit this one out.
Before departure, Rip tried to scrounge up a few guard uniforms for infiltration, but Thea waved him off.
"No need for that."
She traced several glowing sigils in the air.
Thin streaks of transparent light sank into their bodies one after another.
Rip, Sara, and Rory looked down at themselves—no visible change.
"The darkness hides, but so can light," Thea explained patiently.
"My spell bends illumination around you—it continuously absorbs and redirects light. As far as anyone else is concerned, you're invisible."
They still looked skeptical, so Thea elaborated with a smile.
"You'll get used to it."
Rip, still not convinced, jogged back to the ship and had Gideon scan him with every kind of sensor imaginable—infrared, X-ray, quantum imaging.
All came back the same: no readings detected.
He just stood there, staring at the results.
Invisibility by sunlight refraction.
Science had officially given up.
Accepting defeat, he rejoined the others, and they moved out—though his detour cost them a few precious minutes.
By the time they reached the coordinates, they were running.
Correction: three of them were.
Thea was flying.
And enjoying every second of it.
She had two flight modes:
one, using the unicorn's wings—majestic, but it looked a bit too much like Hawkman cosplay;
and two, lifting herself purely by manipulating her own energy field.
Crude? Maybe.
But stylish as hell.
She struck the classic Superman pose midair, zooming through the night, trails of golden light forming phantom shapes behind her—a V formation one moment, a straight line the next.
Oh, this was fun.
No wonder Superman and Supergirl were always smiling.
Flying was pure euphoria.
Down below, Rip and his crew were sprinting, gasping for air.
Thea almost felt bad… almost.
With a flick of her wrist, she cast a quick Wind Step charm.
A gust of enchanted air surged around them—followed immediately by a chorus of crashes and curses as they stumbled from the sudden boost.
But the team were seasoned fighters; they quickly adjusted, harnessing the speed.
They arrived right on schedule.
⸻
Onstage, Vandal Savage stood under blinding floodlights, his arms raised dramatically.
"Tonight," he thundered, "we stand at the edge of history! Past victories are but shadows—but only by winning this final war shall we be remembered forever! For glory! For immortality!"
Below him stretched a sea of black—hundreds of followers in matching dark armor, rifles at the ready, saluting him like a cult.
Thea couldn't help muttering,
"If they start chanting Hail Hydra, I swear I'm leaving."
The setup was painfully familiar.
A fanatic crowd, a deranged leader, dramatic lighting—it was like someone had photocopied Red Skull's rally script and handed it out at the door.
Still, spotting Savage was easy enough.
Among the mass of masked soldiers, only two people stood bare-faced—a man and a woman at the front.
Given the man's wild beard and grand gestures, there was no question who he was.
And considering Savage's lifelong obsession with Kendra Saunders, the woman beside him had to be her stand-in for this lifetime.
"Is that big bearded guy our target?" Thea whispered.
Rip's expression darkened. He didn't answer—just gave a short, grim nod.
"All right," Thea said simply.
"I'll grab him. Wait here."
Before Rip could protest, she was gone—shattering the sound barrier as she streaked through the night sky.
In the blink of an eye, she was before Savage, fist cocked, pulling her punch down to a mere ten percent of her strength.
To his credit, four thousand years of survival instinct kicked in.
His brain hadn't even processed the threat yet, but his body—oh, his body—had already dropped flat with a perfect combat roll.
Thea's "gentle" strike whiffed past him and hit the soldier behind instead.
The man didn't even scream.
He simply stared down at the massive, smoking hole in his chest, blinked once, and collapsed.
Blood gushed only after he hit the ground.
"Move!" Savage shouted, seizing the woman beside him.
He pulled a small device from his pocket and slammed his thumb on it.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions ripped through the plaza one after another.
Thea's enhanced senses caught fragments of chaos—bodies, rubble, fire, all rising in a wave of destruction.
For an instant, she froze—not in fear, but realization.
So that was it.
He hadn't seen through her invisibility spell.
He hadn't detected Rip's team at all.
He was gambling.
Counting on her to act like every "hero" before her—to save the innocents first.
Even his timing was perfect.
By sheer guesswork, he'd played right into the superhero's moral reflex.
And damn it—he'd guessed right.
Sara and Rip were still down there.
They had to be saved, no matter what.
Heat Wave? He could probably handle himself in the fire.
But Sara, Rip—those two didn't stand a chance.
Thea clenched her fists, fury and adrenaline flaring like solar fire.
Fine.
If he wanted to see what light could really do—
she'd show him.