Univrsal Marchant :MCU /Arrowverse

Chapter 5: Legends of Tomorrow and the Waverider Welcome

With Basic Super-Speed, Tactical Acumen, and nascent Lightning Control under my belt, I was feeling… confident. Or maybe just reckless. The logical next step in my journey of collecting powerful friends and slightly terrifying skills was to find the Arrowverse's resident band of time-traveling misfits: the Legends of Tomorrow. They were chaotic, prone to accidentally messing up history, and exactly my kind of people. Plus, Sara Lance. Queen of Snark and kicking ass.

I zeroed in on the Waverider. Not just a time-ship, but a character in itself. I visualized its sleek, futuristic interior, the whirring of its temporal engines, the distinct smell of… well, probably whatever concoction Mick Rory was currently burning. I aimed for a moment of relative calm, or at least, a moment where they weren't actively fighting a time aberration in ancient Egypt.

The quantum leap felt smoother this time, like my body was finally getting used to being reassembled across the spacetime continuum. One moment, I was standing in a surprisingly clean alleyway in Star City (which was suspiciously free of explosions), the next, I was on the bridge of the Waverider.

Thud.

The ship's AI, Gideon, immediately chimed. "Unidentified life sign detected on the bridge."

A few heads snapped towards me. Rip Hunter, looking perpetually exasperated, was at the helm. Ray Palmer, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, was tinkering with something. And Mick Rory, scowling with the intensity of a thousand burning buildings, was, predictably, polishing his heat gun.

And then there was Sara. Leaning against a console, a faint smirk playing on her lips, observing me with an almost terrifying stillness. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, took me in.

"Okay, Adam. You've got this. She's seen weirder. Just… be you. The sarcastic, slightly unhinged, self-aware version of you."

"Well, hello there, Legends," I said, hands in my pockets, trying for casual cool. "Apologies for the unannounced arrival. Your front door seems to be a little… lacking in security protocols. Or maybe the 'knock first' memo didn't reach the multiverse yet."

Rip blinked. "Who in the blazes are you, and how did you get on my ship?" His British accent was thicker than cold molasses.

"Adam Stiels," I said, offering a small bow. "And as for how I got here… let's just say I have a very good travel agent. And a knack for showing up in the most inconvenient places at the most opportune times." My gaze met Sara's. "Like, for instance, when you're about to discover that the only way to defeat a temporal anomaly is to dance the Macarena with a saber-toothed tiger."

Ray's eyes widened. "The Macarena with a saber-toothed tiger? Is that a real temporal anomaly? Because I have some algorithms that might optimize the choreography!"

Mick just grunted, hefting his heat gun slightly. "Pyro."

Sara, however, merely straightened up, a genuine, amused smile spreading across her face. "You're either completely insane, or you know something about the Waverider's future adventures that we don't. Which, given our track record, is highly probable for either."

"Let's just say I've… read a few spoilers," I offered, a knowing grin. "And I recognize a team of highly dysfunctional but incredibly effective heroes when I see one. You guys are like a chaotic good bingo card."

Sara laughed. A genuine, unrestrained laugh. "Chaos is our specialty. What's your deal, Adam? You don't seem like a villain. Too much sarcasm."

"Exactly!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Finally, someone who understands! Villains are just so… cliché. All the dramatic monologues, the secret lairs, the predictable plans involving world domination. Honestly, it's exhausting. I prefer a bit of controlled mayhem, a dash of witty banter, and making sure the good guys actually win, preferably before Tuesday."

Rip was still trying to process, his mouth slightly agape. Ray was scribbling furiously on a notepad, muttering about "Macarena algorithms." Mick was still just grunting, but his heat gun was no longer aimed directly at my face, which I considered a win.

"So, you're just… here to help?" Sara asked, though her tone suggested she didn't quite believe it.

"More than help, Captain Lance," I said, stepping closer. "I'm a broker. I facilitate the exchange of unique… assets. Knowledge, resources, even skills. I've been, shall we say, accumulating a rather impressive portfolio. And I think I have something you'll find incredibly useful for all your chaotic time-traveling shenanigans."

I pulled a sleek, palm-sized device from my Inventory. It was a dark, metallic grey, with a subtle blue glow emanating from a single, almost invisible screen. It looked like something straight out of the Time Bureau's deepest, most classified vault.

"This," I announced, holding it up, "is a multiversal temporal anomaly tracker. Untraceable, highly adaptable, and it'll pinpoint any temporal or spatial distortion with pinpoint accuracy. Consider it your new best friend for finding whatever you accidentally left in the Cretaceous Period."

Ray gasped, literally. "That's… that's impossible! The Time Bureau's prototype is still decades away!"

"Like I said, I have my sources," I replied, winking. "Now, as for my end of the bargain… for this little marvel of spacetime engineering, I'd be honored if you'd part with one of your signature League of Assassins blades."

Sara's smirk widened, a glint in her eyes. She reached to her hip, pulling out a familiar, well-worn, but impeccably sharp blade. "You want my knife?"

"More than just the knife," I clarified. "I want the… essence of your skill. The stealth, the precision, the ability to move like a ghost. Think of it as a conceptual transfer. You still get to keep all your awesome ninja moves, I just get a… smaller, less lethal version for myself."

She considered me for a long moment, then looked at the tracker. Its value was undeniable, especially for their unpredictable missions. Her eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and shrewdness. "Alright, Adam Stiels. You're either completely bonkers or a genius. Either way, this sounds like fun." She extended the blade, handle first. "Deal."

I took the blade. It felt surprisingly heavy, imbued with years of fierce purpose.

TRADE INITIATED. ITEM: MULTIVERSAL TEMPORAL ANOMALY TRACKER. RECIPIENT: SARA LANCE. RESOURCE: LEAGUE OF ASSASSINS BLADE. ACQUIRED: SKILL – ASSASSIN'S STEALTH. TP AWARDED: HIGHLY SIGNIFICANT.

A cold, crisp feeling enveloped me, like a sudden drop in temperature, but without the chill. It wasn't a shock of power, but a subtle shift in awareness. My movements felt lighter, more fluid. I suddenly understood the angles of shadow, the subtle art of silent footfalls, the almost instinctive ability to disappear from plain sight. It was like I'd just had a lifetime of ninja training downloaded directly into my cerebellum.

"Whoa. I'm a ninja now. A sarcastic, nerdy ninja. This is officially the best resume ever. I can run fast, think strategically, shoot lightning, and now I can sneak past anyone. Except maybe a really hungry dog."

I returned the blade to Sara, who took it back with a small, knowing smile. "So, you feel… ninja-y?"

"Oh, totally," I said, trying to resist the urge to do a dramatic, shadowy pose. "I think I just learned how to silently raid a refrigerator without waking anyone up. This is going to be a game-changer for my late-night snack habits."

Sara laughed again, a sound that cut through the general Waverider chaos. "Welcome aboard, Adam Stiels. Looks like we've got a new Legend."

Rip, finally regaining his composure, stared at the tracker in Ray's hands, then back at me. "Indeed. Welcome to the… quite literally… legendary team, Mr. Stiels." He still looked utterly bewildered.

"Yeah, Rip. Buckle up. This is just the beginning. You haven't even seen my alien tech-infused banana costume yet."