"The new… pillow candidate?"
Diana broke free from Jack Kadere's grip and froze, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Someone's bad habit," White Canary—Sara Lance—said dryly as she got to her feet. She gave Diana a look of mock pity. "Don't get it? It's treating women like body pillows to sleep with, and maybe nothing else. He's basically a walking red flag."
"That's still better than someone who's only good at pointless posturing," Jack shot back casually, ignoring how she might have found out about his habit. He turned toward the Waverider's control panel, tapping the console without hesitation.
A moment later, holographic data from a specific point in history appeared.
"1871? Salvation… Dakota Territory? What's even there?" Sara asked, puzzled as she read the projection.
"The next candidate for my pillow collection," Jack said with a faint grin. "Unfortunately, I forgot her name, so we'll have to search the slow way." His gaze slid to Rip Hunter, who scowled but still gave Gideon the command to set the coordinates.
The Waverider leapt through time.
This jump was smoother than the last. Jack barely noticed the shift, and while Diana tensed slightly at the sensation, her demigod nature kept her steady.
....
1871 – Outside Salvation, Dakota
The Waverider settled in a dusty clearing, its cloaking field shimmering into place.
"The one with the sharp tongue," Jack said, pointing to Sara Lance, "you're coming with me. The rest of you can stretch your legs."
Rip Hunter called after him, "And what exactly are you here for? How long are we stuck in 1871?"
"To find my pillow," Jack answered without breaking stride, "and we're here until I do." He hooked an arm casually around Sara's shoulders and walked down the ramp.
Diana followed at a short distance, arms crossed.
The moment they were outside, Sara slapped his hand away. "Why drag me along?"
"Hostage," Jack said without irony. "What if they decide to take off with the Waverider?"
"That doesn't answer why it's me." Sara's tone was sharp.
"You've got… visual advantages," Jack replied, glancing down.
Sara gave him a flat stare. "Seriously?"
"If I don't find the new pillow, you could make a decent stand-in."
"And you don't already have Wonder Woman for that?" Sara gestured toward Diana.
Jack smirked. "Can you imagine me actually sleeping if I tried hugging her? She'd probably try to strangle me before sunrise."
Sara frowned. "So you can't sleep holding her, but you can with me? Are you calling me ugly?"
"You'd be perfect if you covered two spots," Jack said in a perfectly serious tone.
Sara raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Which two?"
"The left half of your face… and the right half."
Sara's jaw tightened. She inhaled slowly, clearly resisting the urge to hit him. Might as well say cover my whole face…
....
Salvation wasn't much of a town—dusty main street, creaking wooden storefronts, a few wagons and horses tied up along the roadside. The residents wore the rough clothes of the Old West and gave suspicious stares to the trio of strangers.
Jack fit in well enough, but Sara Lance was still wearing her White Canary uniform, and Diana had not bothered to disguise her Wonder Woman armor. In 1871, the sight of either outfit—let alone the two of them together—was enough to turn heads. Even without being overtly revealing, the designs were far too modern and striking for a dusty frontier town.
"Hey, excuse me," Jack Kadere called to a man leaning against a post outside a general store.
The man hesitated, eyeing the trio warily, but stepped closer.
"No need to be nervous," Jack said with an easy grin. "I just wanted to know—where's the local brothel?"
Sara's eyes widened. "Seriously?" she muttered, shooting him a glare.
The man blinked, clearly startled. With two women like Diana and Sara walking beside Jack, the idea that he'd still want to seek out more company didn't compute. He gave the women a quick, envious glance before pointing toward a two-story building farther down the street.
"That's it," the man said slowly. "But… you probably won't find anyone prettier than the company you've already got."
"Life's full of surprises," Jack replied, already striding toward the building.
....
He pushed open the swinging doors, stepping into a warm, dimly lit hall. A scattering of men and women were inside, drinking and talking over the creak of old floorboards. Conversations paused as heads turned toward the newcomers. Seeing Jack arrive with Sara and Diana—two striking figures entirely out of place in a frontier saloon—froze the room for a moment.
"Who runs this place?" Jack asked, scanning the crowd.
A middle-aged woman with a calculating gaze stepped forward—the madam.
Jack smiled as if greeting an old friend. "Call out all the girls. I'll choose one."
She studied him a moment, suspicious but curious, then gave a short nod and motioned to someone in the back.
A few moments later, there was movement upstairs and along the side hallway. One by one, the women came into the room.
"Not like that," Jack said, waving his hand. "Stand properly. Line up."
There was some shuffling as they formed a line.
"That's better. This is all of them?"
"All of them," the madam confirmed.
Jack walked the line slowly, inspecting each face and figure as though he were assessing priceless artwork.
"No… not her… no, not her either…"
One after another, he dismissed them with a shake of his head. By the time he reached the last in line, his frown deepened. He turned to the madam.
"You're sure there's no one else?"
"You don't like any of these?" she asked, brows rising. After a pause, she added, "Well… there's one more. She just got here, but—"
"Money isn't the problem," Jack interrupted with a bright smile. "Bring her out."
The madam's lips thinned, but she left. Moments later she returned, guiding a young woman who looked as though she'd barely had time to settle in—her hair a bit messy, her dress slightly wrinkled.
Jack's eyes lit up. "It's her."
The madam blinked at his sudden certainty. She shrugged and pushed the woman forward. "She's yours."
"Much appreciated," Jack said, draping an arm around the woman's shoulders and steering her toward the door.
"Wait—rooms are upstairs!" the madam called after him. "And since you said money isn't the problem… you'd better pay first."
Jack turned back, still smiling. "Money's not the problem. The problem is… I have no money."
The madam froze mid-step. "You—what?"
Her face hardened. "You trying to make a fool out of me? Do you have any idea where you are?"
At her shout, several big men emerged from the side of the room, fists clenched, and charged at Jack.
He didn't flinch—just glanced sideways at Sara.
She sighed, rolled her shoulders, and stepped forward. In a blur of motion, the White Canary's combat training took over.
Bang. Thud. Crack.
In less than ten seconds, all of the attackers lay groaning on the floor. The onlookers could only stare, wide-eyed, at the casually efficient destruction she'd unleashed.