DC's Legends of Tomorrow

Hm.

Is this your plan, old boy?

Force me to watch you smack your lips together

like some sort of blonde ape until I tell you

when I stashed the map to the Fountain of Imperium?

It won't work.

I offered to be your partner once,

and you locked me in a ruddy chest with that witch.

That's right.

Mmm.

Mmm-mmm.

- Oh, you filthy, uncouth scoundrel!

- Now you're gonna tell me where the map is,

or I'm gonna desecrate your painting with my bodily fluids.

- Just get this lump off my face!

Okay.

- I entrusted the map to a banker to hold on to

until my eventual resurrection.

All right then, partner.

What's this banker's name, eh?

Noelle, I presume.

Constantine.

Hm.

- Aren't you going to invite me in?

You're a vampire.

It's best you come in then.

- Where's Aleister? - Don't worry about him.

From now on, you'll deal with me.

You have my 2 million pounds.

- 2 million quid. Bloody hell.

How much interest have you been charging, Vampy?

- - All right, all right.

Calm down, don't get your knickers all in a knot.

See, I'm offering something far more valuable than dosh, love.

A favor.

- What could you possibly do for me?

- Spare your immortal life, for one.

One word and sunshine will turn you to ashes.

- Clever. - Hm.

I'm John Constantine, love.

Clever doesn't even begin to describe it.

Now hand over what you were holding for Crowley

and you can be on your merry little way.

Go on. Set it on the table.

- Now that you've invited me in, mon cher,

I can come back anytime I want.

- I have magical runes powerful enough to keep out worse

than the likes of you, sweetheart.

Aleister's as well.

A little potion I procured for him.

One day, you might get a taste for it.

One day, you might be positively

gagging for the stuff.

Crowley, you sneaky wank.

Sleep tight, little buddy.

Superhero, a totem bearer,

and an alien named Gary becomes singing mannies.

Did I just invent our spinoff?

- Are you recording because Sarah and Ava

asked for constant updates?

They don't think

we can survive one weekend without them, do they?

- Listen, I just want them to look for their wedding venue

without dealing with these dummies

- No more singing. I can't take it anymore.

That little snot's not crying 'cause it's tired.

It's got growing pains.

- Well, he does not look any bigger.

- He said the Gusarax life cycle is only 38 rotations.

Uh, what does that mean?

- Yeah, I can see where this is going, new Zari.

- Technically, I'm-- I'm the original, sorry.

- The OZ. - The one and only.

- Yeah, I'm not translating for Gary

just because he lost his glasses.

And I'm definitely not helping y'all parse

Gus's every gurgle.

If I wanted to take care of a baby,

I would have stayed in Texas

and married the first jerk I kissed.

- Yeah, she's really got that new girl on the ship vibes.

Leeching human souls

wasn't quite enough for you, was it, Master Crowley?

No, no, no, no. You were juicing.

What a crass term.

I was reaching for new mystical heights

aided by a rare cocktail of bloods.

You absolute tosspot.

You know as well as I do that magic this powerful,

it comes at a terrible, terrible price.

- It's because of that potion that you have the map.

In 1939, I took a rather large dose

and fell into a trance,

where an extraterrestrial dictated the map to me.

Pity he didn't speak English. I might've discovered

where in the heavens the Fountain was hidden.

Yes, the heavens.

You see that's where you were going wrong.

My alien mate, Gary,

he reckons that the Fountain of Imperium

is somewhere here on Earth, lost to history.

And this cut-out is the key.

Let's see.

Should fit exactly.

Spain.

That's where the Fountain was in 1939.

- Take me with you, John. We're partners now, right?

- Skip it. I've got a new partner in mind.

You know, I have other skills

besides being an alien telepath.

Couldn't literally anyone else

help you with Rory's brood pooch instead?

- Please. It'll just take a second.

- - Okay, amazing.

I should warn you though, my dad hasn't really

wrapped his head around the whole pregnancy thing.

Men can't get pregnant!

Or didn't they teach you that at college?

- Dad, a year and a half ago in my past,

which is your future, you ceased all contact.

Okay, if you really have Kayla's eggs in your skull,

then maybe they'll give a clue to what will happen.

Ever seen the movie "Alien"?

Yeah, I think we know what will happen.

Spooner, please.

Just look at the protrusion.

Have a seat.

Ay Dios mio.

- Oh-oh-oh, what sordid scene am I interrupting?

Never mind. Don't care.

Spooner, join me for a shot and a chinwag.

Good luck with that.

Long story short, I have been stripped of my magic in service

of transforming you back from a fork I might add--

- Okay, what do you want me to translate, John?

- A map for the Fountain of Imperium,

which according to my research is a wellspring of magic

gifted to humans by aliens long ago

and last seen in Spain.

Whoa.

This is--this is cool.

Only those whom are worthy may drink from this fountain.

- That's typical prophecy malarkey.

I need a location.

- All right, well, this main star here is Albacete.

- Albacete. - Mm-hmm.

- That's a city in the southeast of Spain.

- Well, seeing as we're in Spain, February 1939,

there's a few things you ought to understand.

Now, first and foremost, this country has just suffered

three years of a brutal and bloody civil war.

- Civil war? When were you planning on telling me that?

- I just did, and a class war is more like it.

You see, on one side, you have the rich

and the military backed by Nazi Germany.

On the other side, you have the trade unions

and the democratically elected government of Spain.

And don't even get me started

on the devious little role of the Catholic church.

- I'm Catholic, John. - Yeah, well,

then you'll understand my attitude towards priests.

I'd sooner rather break bread with a bloody demon.

- Okay, well, nothing on here says Fountain.

What about El Gato?

- The cat? - Oh, no, no, no.

It's the code name to a leftist leader

that I've heard stories about.

Apparently, he survived seven assassination attempts

and one actual crucifixion.

- So? Maybe he was lucky?

- Lucky? Nobody's that lucky.

That's magic.

My guess, El Gato drank from the Fountain.

- Well, if you want to find a man,

why don't we just ask at the local watering hole?

Hm.

- The bar is closed to outsiders.

Especially fascist spies.

Are you taking the mickey?

Do I look like a bloody fascist?

- You look like a German? - He has a point.

No, he doesn't.

I'll have you know that I served

with the POUM militia at Jarama.

- You were in the trenches of Jarama?

I was.

- What did you grease your rifle with?

- Oh, you mean the rusted antique

that they supplied me with?