DC's Legends of Tomorrow

Previously on "Legends of Tomorrow"...

Hello.

Mallus wasn't the only prisoner to escape.

And now there's magic.

Oh, my God.

An unknown number of dangerous magical beings

got spat out across the timeline

and now must be sent to hell.

Going somewhere, Raymond?

You think it's Nora.

And if the Time Bureau finds her first, she's going to tell

them you're the one who helped her escape.

Ma'am, your crown jewels are here.

There's absolutely no reason to worry.

All is in order.

Excellent.

I shall wear them out so my people can adore their queen.

Yes, of course, ma'am.

Will you be waving from the north balcony or the south?

I was thinking something a little more intimate.

Wow. Red beans and rice didn't miss Her Majesty.

Now I understand

how Mr. Mix-a-Lot got his knighthood.

Guys, guys, a little professionalism, please.

What kind of ripple effect are we really

looking at here, Nate?

Okay. Right now, the queen

gets institutionalized,

the British monarchy fails,

and England descends into chaos.

Anarchy in the UK.

Which is weird but... paranormal?

Well, something freaky

is definitely at the heart of this.

Our magic-tracking device detected a massive spike.

All right, then we got a live one.

Punk rock London. Nate, you ready?

Um, well, Ava asked me to stick around and help launch

the magic operations here.

We need to establish procedure, protocols,

command structure.

So... desk job.

Nate Heywood, cubicle guy.

Sad little plant on his desk. Really?

It's prestigious, Sara.

And then when everything's up and running

I come back to the Waverider.

Fine.

Cool kids are off to the Jolly Old.

Ha. This is very sleek.

Ah, handles all your messaging and data,

keeps accurate time in any era, and counts your steps,

which, to me, is a little overrated...

And it also contains the air totem.

Thanks, Ray. I love it.

Well, you're actually the one I should be thanking.

I feel like you're the only one I can talk to

about this whole Nora thing.

Secret's safe with me.

Doing bad things for good reasons

is practically our mission statement.

Even Amaya did it.

Yeah, but this is kind of complicated.

The others can handle complicated.

Maybe.

And then there were five.

Shorter bathroom lines.

Yeah, but no one to watch Patrick Swayze movies with.

Nate will be back soon.

In the meantime, we need to go back

before the monarchy goes anarchy.

Never thought I'd get to meet the Queen.

Not gonna happen.

Too risky.

And besides, she's not the one

setting off Ray's magic-o-meter.

The Queen's favorite new band is...

The Smell.

"The Smell"?

Never heard of them, and I know of every rubbish

punk band there is in London.

That's because they didn't exist in this timeline.

Gideon?

The Queen's cheeky jig launched

The Smell's rise to stardom.

They were known as much for their music

as for a series of improbable anti-establishment pranks.

All with a magical signature.

Okay, so we're looking for someone in the band.

We could be dealing with demonic possession,

mind control, illusion,

or maybe just the run-of-the-mill royal dementia.

Hold on a minute.

There's your magic man right there.

Obsessed with riches, given to mischief.

That Irishman there is a leprechaun.

S-sorry. Are you being serious or racist?

Both, love.

Why is the weasel running the show?

If you've got a problem with me, pie-head,

why don't you just say?

I got a problem with you.

I'm running it, and I say

we need to get close to that band,

which shouldn't be a problem

because everybody left on this ship is a punk.

Except for haircut.

He hasn't broken a rule in his life.

Yep. Not a single rule.

The Hole... Cradle of punk rock

and the stickiest floor in the British Isles.

Sounds lovely. You kids have fun.

I'll have a bottle of hand sanitizer when you come back.

Ah, you got to love that sound.

What?

The music... It's the dog's bollocks.

Sorry, I can't hear you over the terrible music.

We're The Smell, and you're a bunch of mingers.

And we'll be back when we feel like it.

All right, guys, here's our chance.

Somebody's got to slip backstage

and get in with the band.

Yeah, leave it to me.

I used to play here with Mucous Membrane.

I know my way around.

And besides, you're all bloody Yanks.

- Not you. - Why not?

I don't like him.

Always perfidious Albion, is it?

Never trust a Brit.

Something like that.

Guys, really, we don't have time for this.

Somehow Mister Rory here hasn't realized

that if he's going to play with fire,

he's going to get burned.

Don't.

Oi! You lot!

- Thanks for the lift, mate. - Get us out of here!

Come on! Go! Let's go!

Oh, let me out, I'm gonna puke.

Don't let the suit fool you. Our man's a punk.

He drove on the wrong side of the road the whole way here.

- I did? - Nice.

See you around, mate.

All right, Sara, I found their hideout.

Heading back to the Waverider.

No, Ray, you are our guy on the inside.

Look, loud music makes my nose bleed.

I am not a punk.

Well, you are now. You stay with that band.

Ray? Ray, you there?

Ah, you're pressing the button too hard.

Oh, right, yeah, it's my first time.

Listen, mate, there's an old trick

for unmasking leprechauns.

You spill a bunch of grain in front of them on the floor,

and they're compelled to count every kernel.

Really? That sounds bizarre. That's not true.

Is that true?

That's a stupid plan.

Have you got a better one, big man?

I don't do magic tricks.

Oh, great, so the plan is no plan.

- Is that your idea? - Enough! Both of you.

You know what? It is 1977 in London Town.

I'm going to enjoy the sights.

Good luck with your magic problem.

Did you guys just make Constantine leave?

We'll get back to you, Ray.

- Not your finest work, bud. - He's gonna get us killed.

You just don't like guys with ties.

That's right. It's like a little flag

hanging from someone's neck, saying, "I'm a liar."

Look, I'll have Zari follow him, all right?

But in the meantime, you and I need to help Ray

find this magical creature so we can send it to hell

before this whole team falls apart.

- How's it going? - Good

Great.

All right. This should be all of it.

These protocols were developed by Rip and myself

over the last six years.

- I did the drawings. - Thank you, Gary.

So your job is to just update all of this

for our new magical fugitives, okay?

You got it, boss.

And as we say at the Time Bureau,

the adventure is in the details.

- Hmm. - Have fun.

You okay?

Um, I'm good, I'm good.

It's just... I know you guys do things differently here

I just didn't know it was so protocol-centric.

- Yeah. - Yeah.

Look, I know you're used to zooming around

in a time machine with all your best friends,

shooting from the hip and saving history.

Always.

But you know, the Bureau is not all protocols.

I'm listening.