At first everyone was just glad to be alive. Glen didn’t much know how to deal with being effectively human but was glad to be able to interact with people more or less without difficulties. The more being that nobody screamed “bear” or ran from him on sight but his size, nearly too tall to stand upright in an average eight-foot ceiling, did make some things difficult.

On arrival in the twentieth century it was decided that the group should settle in Los Angeles, California, close enough to the capital that they could act swiftly whenever the coming calamity began and in a population center large and bizarre enough that they could blend into without question. L.A. was, without question, the best choice.

But, unfortunately, having no roots or identity in this era was proving to be difficult. “This age of scarcity is just insane. You have to have money for everything!” Renna shouted one day, just walking into the basement where they were crashing. Justice sat, hunched, looking at his hands. “Tell me you’re not looking at your hands again.”

“I swear they got bigger again, babe.” he said, clearly uncomfortable.

“They did not. You got a little bigger when we came here but it’s nothing compared to the difference between you and an average man. You just need to reach a point where you aren’t using that gadget-laden car. Life forms of your era with no regular exposure to chronal radiation are prone to adverse reactions when hit with a big dose. Derglabin and I weren’t affected at all. Uh … where is he?”

“I don’t know, man, he just disappears and reappears where he wants. I told him he needs to lay low, stay here but, shit, he ain’t been caught out there so what do I know?”

“Well… Whenever he’s back I got him what he wanted. Lucky we retained a tablet with a backup of detailed Earth history or this would be much harder.” Plopping down a pristine, shiny box of mostly blue that read “Commodore 64” on it in stylized lettering. “The ‘best computer of nineteen-eighty-two’ as he put it, a modem and a cassette player.”

“Datassette! Tell me you got the right thing!” shouted Derglabin, bursting out from under the couch. “Yes, not a ‘cassette player’. That wouldn’t even connect to the Commodore! This is a special piece of equipment! Wait, there was something else on the list!”

“Yes, yes. A copy of ‘Wizard of Wor’? Who made this? ‘War’ is spelled wrong, with an O!”

“It is not wrong! I need a monitor. Where is a monitor!?”

“The nice man at the computer store said that you can connect this to a television. The monitor was really expensive.”

“Televisions have terrible screens! Terrible video hookups! The tuner interferes! How can I hack Arpanet with an inferior display!?” Angrily grunting the little, mostly black but color shifting lizard man, dragged his boxes under the couch.

“You can’t live under the couch, you know!” shouted Renna.

“Ah, he’s just sore on account of having to hide every time that Chadwick fella stops by. Guess that’s his spot now.”

“Right. Chad. Mister bigshot gun store owner. He pay you any more of what he owes you?”

Still staring down at them Justice clenched his hands into fists. “No, I’m afraid not. Got another fight tonight though. Some British guy. Chad called me, said I gotta make it look good so people bet on the sumbitch. He can’t pay me unless the betting’s good.”

“I don’t get why he’s gotta be involved at all, Justice. After he takes the rent out of your winnings you should still be getting good money but he cries poverty. Who cares about his bets? You win the fight purse every time!”

“Okay, okay, no need to shout.” Justice stood up. “I’ll call the man. He gave me this phone thing here.” Justice picked up a giant brick of a handset. “Moe-toe-roe-la. I guess it’s real cutting edge shit.”

“A cellular phone? In nineteen-eighty-two? I don’t have the tablet. Derglabin! What’s that cellphone cost?”

A shout from under the couch said “Four-thousand dollars!”

“Four thousand. He could afford to just give you four thousand dollars but he gave you something he could use to keep tabs on you.”

“I know you’re right, Renna, but what do I do? I can’t go gettin’ us evicted. Chad’s got us over a barrel.”

Renna issued forth a shuddering sigh. “You can get tough, Justice. I know it’s hard when someone’s being friendly to you. You want to be friendly back. But he’s taking advantage, okay? This man knows you could break him in two and he’s taking advantage.”

“Yeah. I dunno. He is. It’s just … tough.”

“Thinking about Glen again?” Glen hadn’t taken to twentieth-century life well at all. For one thing he couldn’t get clothes. They falsified papers for him, getting him an identity that existed so long as you didn’t check the database, but his appearance meant he always got extra scrutiny.

“Ayup. No call back. Ran off with that damn promoter then nothin’. They said they’d give him my message.” Glen had run off with a man from “Wrestling World Wide”, who had promised to make him a star. In the past few months he’d been on television regularly as “The Russian Bear” Anatoli Kasperov. Worse, he had a handler, a man who would only identify himself as “Commisar Trotsky”. His accent was terrible but he wouldn’t admit to not being Russian. Justice would spend any call he actually got with Glen getting barked at by the Commisar for ten minutes then talking to Glen for two.

Renna rubbed Justice’s shoulders, an act that he barely felt, her tone growing soft and supporting. “Look, just talk to Chad, tell him you deserve a fair cut. Once you have that we can start making headway on our goals. We’ll get your son back, find a way to hack AngelPharma and, hopefully, at least make this Earth safe enough to live in.”

Suddenly loud boops and beeps could be heard underneath the couch. Grunting and giggling mixed with vintage computer audio.

“Derglabin, are you … are you playing a game in there?”

“Quiet! I am busy!” shouted the lizard.

“You’re supposed to be accessing the predecessor to the internet! We need intel on this AngelPharma!”

“And I need entertainment! I just figured out how to use the tablet as a screen for the Commodore. Don’t take this from me! Besides, I still need a modem or no hacking for you!”

“Damn,” Renna grit her teeth. “He’s right. That thing’s not going to communicate over a phoneline as it is right now. I’ll go get one tomorrow, assuming your fight brings in the money it should.”

“Yeah, sure it will.” said Justice, nervous. He was a defender, not an attacker, so confronting Chad didn’t sound like much fun. “Need anything at the store? I gotta stretch my legs a bit.”

“You still have cash?” she asked, incredulously. Renna truly hated the idea of currency, considering it primitive and discriminatory.

“Enough to feed us, yeah. I’m gettin’ stuff for sausage and potatoes. You wanna add to the list or what?” asked Justice.

—

The trip to the store, called “Alpha Beta”, was uneventful in the broad daylight. The way things were spread out in the twentieth century was Justice’s biggest frustration. They’d hidden the Chrono Car on account of its very distinctive interior. There was no car with that kind of technology at this time and they wanted to avoid the scrutiny that might occur should they be stopped on the road by the authorities.

He’d gotten the meat, potatoes, milk, some greens and some feminine hygeine supplies that Justice didn’t want to be seen with but he’d do it for Renna. He’d thought to invite her along but she was grumpy and there was almost no chance they’d make it back before dusk. In fact, as he left, he could see the sun setting. It was easy to forget that, in February, it was still winter, because Los Angeles was so warm. It was only just getting on towards evening, five P.M., and Justice was not ready to face the night.

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Nevertheless he didn’t exactly hustle along. Back home he’d be reminded that a crazy gun store owner was fleecing him in what were basically bum fights, he was hiding a stir crazy reptile alien, his (adoptive) son had gone off to become a pro wrestler and the woman he loved from another timeline and universe was mourning the death of what was probably her entire galaxy. Justice had beaten the first Outsider he’d encountered to death but that second one, whatever it was, wasn’t about to go down to a few hammer fist blows.

The streetlights came on, a dinner bell to the undesirable people of the city. Picking his way along the streets of downtown Los Angeles, Justice kept his head on a swivel. An armload of groceries wasn’t much to accost a man for but he’d been attacked half a dozen times in the evening since he and Renna had come here at the end of 1982, even when empty-handed.

He’d always wanted to see the California Territory, before it became a state, before enlisting in the Union Army and the desire had never lessened. It was the main reason he took the job helping to build the railroad before his service. He’d done it for only a few months when the South seceded. In the history books he’d gone on to lay track again. Not so much now.

When things went sideways, demons possessing every Mormon and most other folks were assimilated into weird blob monsters (he thought; it was kind of fuzzy in his memory) and he ran to a future Utopia he thought for sure he’d never see it. In a way, he still hadn’t.

After all, this wasn’t the unspoiled nature he’d heard about, going on forever in every direction. The ocean that nobody had looked West to see the East on the other side. This place stank. Some of it was familiar; oil, coal and worse like with the trains. Some was like an Army latrine, circa 1865. Then there were other smells, chemicals; stuff that Renna said were made illegal, in some cases soon, in others a century in the future. In her time folks lived over a century on average. Now, especially in downtown LA, it was a lot less than that.

He was only a block from the safety of the “Pistol Packin’ Rat”, the gunstore with a reputation that made it the safest place to stay in this part of this huge city. The owner, Chad, liked putting stickers up in his front window to show how many robberies he stopped; fatally. It hadn’t gone up in awhile but only because, when it hit about twenty-five, the addicts and the desperate, no matter how bad off, started steering clear. Justice and Renna lived in the basement.

But he wasn’t there yet. “Hey there, Hawai-i.” said a wheedling voice, making sure to sound the extra I in Hawaii out by itself. Justice wore a Hawaiian shirt loose to help hide his physique.

“Boy’s got a lot of color on him! Maybe not enough red.” laughed a second. Sounded black, Justice thought, though he wouldn’t say it (if only because Renna would object if she heard.)

A third laughed hysterically, perhaps unable to speak. Justice sighed deeply, placing the already tied-off plastic grocery bags between a pair of trash cans before turning around slowly. “Help you, gentlemen?” He’d tried for months to keep a low profile but it just wasn’t working.

The black fella (Justice felt satisfaction knowing he was right just by the voice) was the first to speak. Yeah, I’ll be takin’ those bags. Gotta feed my moms, homie. He was taller than Justice but probably fifty pounds lighter, maybe more. Actually, Justice didn’t know how much he weighed any more. He definitely looked more muscular, bulky, than he’d ever been before his world went crazy and was blasted into ever crazier worlds thereafter.

“No thanks there, uh, homie. I had to fight for these bags of vittles. Y’know … the fights?”

Unfortunately this kid and his friends were ignorant of Justice’s profession and he’d mostly been hiding out so nobody was impressed. “Hey, didn’t you hear the man? His mom’s hungry. Also … she needs a belt! Leather. Black. Like yours!” This kid wore sunglasses, a backwards hat, flannel and other varied handkerchiefs and rags. With that ratty mustache and bad skin it was hard to tell if he was fifteen or fifty, Mexican or white, tough or weak.

The third guy cackled. Apparently they were taking turns. “Look, hoss, I ain’t one to start nothin’ but I’m bone weary and sick of the bullshit around here. Tell you what; jump me or don’t, I don’t care, just don’t talk at me all stupid-like anymore. Deal?”

“Did you hear that, Popcorn!?” shouted the raggy man.

“What did I just hear!?” shouted Popcorn (the hell kind of name is that?)

“That sounded like he was dissin’ you, man! You gonna put up wit’ that!?”

More laughter from the manic mute as Popcorn threw aside his backwards bandanna, ripped off his overshirt to reveal his muscles and charged in on Justice. “Yeah! Get some!” shouted the tall young man.

Bracing himself, Justice extended his left arm and let Popcorn slam chest-first into his knuckles. His long arms allowed him to slam a fist into, unfortunately, Justice’s forehead. He gasped, unable to speak, grabbing his hand, clearly broken, grabbed his chest and struggled to breathe. “Ah, shit, kid. That was your sternum. It’ll hurt a damned long time but you’ll be okay … eventually.” Placing the heel of his hand just behind the butt of Popcorn’s jaw Justice pulled back a few inches and slapped him. The sound echoed and Popcorn spiraled into a crumpled heap on the asphalt.

Correcting his long hair Justice retrieved his groceries as the other two young men sputtered and flailed in confusion. “You can’t just! Popcorn’s the baddest man on this block, man!”

“Yeah, well, I’m just gettin’ to the block where I’m baddest. Maybe don’t mess with folks just tryin’ to get where they’re goin’, eh?”

“That ain’t good enough, man!” shouted the raggedy man. Whipping a small object out of a pocket in a juggling manner he produced a rather ornate knife; a butterfly knife to be exact. “You need to learn some respect! Hyah!” and he lunged at Justice.

Turning to avoid contact Justice whipped his free arm overtop, trapping his attacker’s arm long enough to grip the fingers of the hand holding the knife. Turning back, he grumbled audibly. “You cut my shirt, God-dammit.”

But if the kid heard him he wasn’t letting on. “My hand! What are you doing!?” As Justice realized there was a rend in his sleeve and, of all things, a small bloodstain, he was losing his cool. “Son of a bitch … you actually cut me.”

The kid was trying desperately to get the knife into his other hand but, instead, the squared-off metal was digging painfully into his flesh. “It hurts! Please stop!” he shouted and fell to his knees.

“Yeah, okay.” and Justice thrust, punching the kid between the eyes with his own hand, breaking the kid’s sunglasses and knocking him cold. “I’m keepin’ the fuckin’ knife you piece of…” and he trailed off into grumbling. The shirtless, laughing idiot boy growled like a dog momentarily until Justice shouted “Heel!” At that the growling ceased and, pissing his pants, he fell to his back, exposing his stomach. Moving on Justice shook his head. “So this is my life now I guess. Shit…”

—

“I’m back!” called Justice as he walked into the dingy basement apartment. “Got vittles enough for a few days. Figure I’ll cook ‘em after the fight. Renna?” Justice looked in the bedroom; Renna lay on her side, knees up, facing away, withdrawn. He opened his mouth to speak again but thought better of it. Backing out he turned around to find he wasn’t alone. “Chad?”

Greasy, long, brown hair, pushbroom of a mustache, sunglasses at night, muscle shirt, elastic shorts and sandals with socks, Chad certainly dressed to impress. He was on the move but smiled as he made eye contact (kinda, again, sunglasses). “Justice! Hey man, door was unlocked and I clearly saw you come in, man. Just about time for the fight!”

“Uh, yeah man, I was just checkin’ in on my lady first. She’s been …down.” Looking past Chad Justice saw the door, closed, locked, and his eyes flicked back to his boss and landlord.

“Right! Yeah, that Renna. She is … so fine, man. Like I told you before; I could get her work easy. I know you guys could use more cash.”

“And I told you there ain’t nothin’ you got your thumbs in that Renna would care to do, Chad. Once we’re in the database she’s gonna be a doctor just like … where we came from.”

“Right right, lady doctor. Supple Renna the exotic natural blonde black girl is a genius lady doctor.I remember.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Justice growled way down low.

Chad held out a hand but faded back, his other hand touching his pistol. “Whoa! Whoa, now, remember you’re in my property, Justice, and I got all my papers. I just misspoke, okay? Just tryin’ to say, wow, beauty and brains. That ain’t bad, right?”

Although he glared for a moment longer Justice stood up straight, fighting down his rage. “You want me to let this joker last five minutes you’d best stop pokin’ the bear, Chadwick.”

“Now you, you want more money, right? I can’t give it if I don’t got it.”

“You’re keepin’ most of the fight purse. Why you gotta win big in a bet to pay me what I’m worth?” Justice asked, moving to and unlocking the door.

Chad moved towards the door alongside Justice. He made clear he wasn’t afraid of him, maybe because he was packing heat and Justice wasn’t, but he was ignorant of the big man’s abilities. “Rent, big man! Rent, fees, transportation–I’m about to drive you to the fight after all.”

As Chad exited Justice shouldered his way in to be sure that the door was locked before they both started heading up the stairs. “Yeah, well, lot more work for a guy like me than you think, Chad. I could be a bodyguard, night club security. Shit, I was in the army; I could be a cop. My experience I’d probably be better than most of ‘em.”

“Army?” asked Chad. “What army is that? Can’t be the United States. I mean, pretty sure you’d have all your papers if that was the case.”

Without another word Justice got into the passenger’s seat of Chad’s car, a new yellow Camaro with red flame designs. Chad got in and started to drive, shaking his head, feeling very in control of the situation.