Author's Note: This is to be a sick/whump/angst whatever fic first and foremost so I apologize if the history and details are a bit off and the plot is a bit lacking, I just wanted to see Nate hurt because I remembered his first episodes and am a horrible person. Though this chapter, he's not hurt that much, but he will be. It's either good or it's not, enjoy or don't, I wrote this for fun because Legends has immensely improved and I have never loved it more since it's season 3 finale.

Chapter 1:

"Mr. Heywood, I would advise you against-"

"Not now, Gideon," Nate cut off the robotic voice of the Waverider before she could finish.

"Mr. Heywood, it is in your best interests to-"

"Can't this wait?" He grabbed his costume, impatiently preparing to leave the ship for their next mission and keeping his voice down.

Gideon was not dissuaded by his words. "I merely have some concerns about your condition-"

"I don't have a condition, keep it down." Nate whispered hastily as Ray passed by his rooms with a friendly reminder they were getting ready to go. "You're not going to stop me from being a legend," he added in a mutter.

"No, I'm not, Mr. Heywood, I'm merely stopping you from being a dead one." Once the coast was clear, Gideon continued. "My services are always available in the medicine bay."

"Yeah, yeah, med bay, got it." Nate waved her off and followed Ray to the Waverider doors.

"Glad you could finally make it." Sara glanced back at him as she equipped a sword and pressed the buttons to open the ramp leading outside. She faced the lowering doors, ready for anything and tilted her head. "Now, let's make some history."

"I think you mean break some history," Mick grunted, readying his heat gun.

"Didn't we already break history and that's why we're here in the first place?" Nate asked, fixing his clothes uncomfortably.

"Quiet, pretty," Mick ignored him, turning the dial up on his weapon, "I'm hoping there's another dragon." His eyes lit up with an almost manic glint.

"I don't know, don't you think having two fire-crazy maniacs will cramp your style?" Nate said with a small laugh.

"Quiet, both of you, there's no dragons. For once, we have a nice, simple mission. Gideon," Sara turned her attention to the ceiling, addressing her, "why aren't the doors opening anymore?"

Gideon's voice buzzed to life. "I apologize, Captain Lance. I simply cannot allow Dr. Heywood to accompany you on this mission."

"Nate, what's she talking about?" Sara faced him. So did Ray.

"Nothing. Uh," Nate fumbled for a moment, "I think she's got a circuit loose. Just press the button again." He brushed off her concern.

Sara eyed him dubiously, but ultimately let it go. The doors continued to lower, and she swept her arm across the landscape. "Well then, welcome to ancient Rome, boys."

The group of them exited the Waverider as it made itself invisible behind them, and walked together towards the coliseum.

They found their way below where the tunnels were long, dark and twisting. They passed by the saniarium where wounded fighters were being tended to for their injuries, most of which seemed beyond repair, and shuffled by.

"The mission is simple," Sara whispered, "we find our anachronism, send them back to their time and then get the hell out of here. No demons. No monsters. No," Sara stopped in the middle of her sentence, sensing the cold, sharp tip of a spear pressing into her back, "problem," she finished, raising her hands in the air.

"Looks like we 'ave us some new contenders." The guards had snuck up behind them while they were focusing on finding their time jumper. They prodded Nate forward, and he winced, taking in a sharp breath. "Some fresh meat for our new champion?"

"Nate." The others were held in their positions, unable to reach their weapons without getting stabbed first.

"Bring forth some armour," the first guard said, "we shall have ourselves a warm up for the crowds."

"You want me to fight?" Nate's voice was dripping with fear. He shook. The guards prodded him again and snatched the others in their grasps.

"Listen, if push comes to shove, just steel up until we can find a way to get to you. These bozos won't hold us for long," Sara tried to advise him in a whisper as the guards escorted them all away.

He nodded, not comforted very much by her words. A gulp caught in his throat. Right, just steel up. Just steel up. That would be a fine plan... if he had been able to actually access his powers the past few weeks. The guards shoved him forward and squeezed him into an old roman armour, made of leather and barely ensuring protection from a mosquito bite. He could already feel a bruise forming in the spot where they poked him with the spear. The crowds outside were chanting, waiting for blood and carnage. He stumbled forward. They were going to get it sooner than they expected.

He was equipped with a shield and a sword and the gates before him slowly rose to allow him to enter the centre of the building.

"And welcoming our new champion," the announcer shouted amongst the yelling, "Vlad the Impaler!"

Nate gulped again. Great. He thought to himself. Looks like he found their anachronism... and it had to be freaking Dracula while he was a haemophiliac in the worst time he could possibly be in in history. He gathered his composure, and let the gates slam behind him. He was Steel. He was Steel. He was-