Finally, their quarry had shown itself. In the months spent waiting for Rockefeller, the Outsider in the guise of a human man, to show, Justice and friends had established identities on this earth of this time period. Everyone had their roles but one member of their group wasn’t happy with his; little Derglabin.

Der used his race’s camouflage to remain unseen. He wasn’t happy about having to hide but he wanted to stop the Outsiders. He couldn’t do that if he were to somehow go to the twentieth century version of his homeworld and he certainly couldn’t do it if he died, dissected in a lab set up by the paranoid twentieth century U.S. government. Yes, one way or another, he was committed to the cause, and would help stop the Outsider on this Earth no matter the cost.

And, on this day, it looked like the cost was going to be well over a thousand in nineteen-eighty-two dollars, “Christ on a cracker, little man, do you really need all that?”

“Affirmative,” said Derglabin from beneath his many layers of cloth. Every inch of scaly skin was covered, including his reptilian eyes, “Most of these small parts are for the Prismatic Array Refractor, some will act as sensors to read my camouflage reflex, others–”

“Okay,” replied Justice fervently, “Enough with the alien talk. We don’t want nobody hearin’ about your camouflage.” Studying the mostly full cart, Justice reached past Derglabin (who sat in the kid’s seat of the cart,) and grabbed up a small, flat box, “What the hell’s this?”

“Dunjonquest: Curse of Ra,” said Derglabin. “It is additional content for a role-playing game that I have been enjoying of late.”

“I can see that,” replied Justice, annoyed, “And how does this piece of software help us achieve our mission?”

“Simple,” whispered Derglabin, beckoning Justice nearer, “It pulls me from the brink of insanity as I hide among primitive Earthlings. It keeps me from exposing myself to them when I go stir-crazy from hiding in hotel rooms. It keeps me from envenoming you as you sleep!”

“Okay! Okay,” Justice recoiled, then turned to a couple of nearby shoppers who were now staring, “You can have the game. Son…”

Derglabin snatched the small box back, hugging it to his chest, “I will also now have parts to enhance the Commodore’s capabilities, and those of its modem. When I’m done it should be able to act as an intermediary between tech from our era and current networks. And at a speed these monkeys won’t see for at least twenty of your years outside of a University.”

“Okay, uh, remember that ‘our era’ actually ain’t mine.” Justice checked their surroundings before continuing, “Compared to where I come from everything in this place is future tech.”

The little alien’s head bobbed, “Ah, yes, I had forgotten of your cave-bound origins.”

The big man rolled his eyes, “For the hundredth time, Der, I’m not a Caveman. Those were way, way before my time.”

“But what of your past self that you impaled before abandoning your duties with Spacefleet?” Derglabin stared up at Justice with no hint of mirth or meanness.

Taking a deep breath, Justice pushed the cart towards the front, still whispering, “First off, that wasn’t my past self. He couldn’t be. Otherwise, how am I here?”

“Paradox,” blurted Derglabin.

“Second I didn’t abandon anything. That Cut-thoo-lou guy, however you say it, had everybody but us. Size of a small moon. There was no way to fight, so I fled, saving you, by the way.” Justice scowled, wishing he could see the little alien’s face.

Der sat a moment, digesting the information, “Yes, I think I understand. Sorry, Justice. We abandoned our duties, leaving the rest of our fellows to die. I share that guilt. Oh, right, and you killed your time-displaced duplicate, correcting a paradox. That is different. I guess.”

Justice grit his teeth, audibly, “I need a drink.”

“I don’t think this is the right store for that.”

“Shut up,” growled Justice, lowly, as they approached the cashier at the front end.

The cashier beamed as Justice rolled up, both he and the plucky alien sidekick quickly emptying the cart onto the conveyor belt, “Welcome to Fry’s Electronics! Wow, that’s a lot of stuff. Building a custom computer? Or … maybe some sort of science fair project?” She started rapidly scanning their purchase, over a hundred individual packages.

“Nothing your feeble mind would understand,” snapped Der, then Justice flicked his arm, “Ow. I mean … electromagnet. With lots of LED bulbs. My … science instructor is simple and likes shiny things.”

“Heh, uh, sorry about that. Raisin’ a baby genius ain’t easy. Heh,” whimpered Justice, still hoping to fly under the radar.

“Oh my God. You’re Gorilla Haymaker,” gushed the cashier, trying to ring the items up as fast as they came at her, “I can’t believe it!”

“Yeah, uh, I’ll sign whatever but I am in a hurry,” groaned Justice, averting eye contact. His eyes flicked to the total as it climbed rapidly, “Y’all take checks, right?”

“Of course!” The cashier was so perky that it rankled Justice further. Shopping for the mission felt a lot like being benched in a sporting event. When they found their quarry’s base Justice would be the perfect tool with which to strike but, until then, he was the best candidate for stuff like this. In short, while he would be the one to take down Rockefeller, he lacked the skills needed to hunt him down. So ultimately he found himself saddled with busy work.

“That will be … one-thousand, twenty-three dollars and forty-five cents! Oh wow!” said the cashier, amazed at the number.

“Uh, yeah, okay. Got a pen?” asked Justice, fishing out his wallet.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“The number!” pointed Der, “the digits are almost in order! Just switch the zero and one! Why the odds are astronomical!”

“Right?” Justice grew more tense as she ignored his question, “What are the odds of all those packages adding up to a sequential amount of money?”

“Pen! Now!” bellowed Justice, and all the laughter stopped, everyone around them stopping and staring. The cashier sheepishly handed him a pen from her vest. He hurriedly filled out the check, which was barely legible. “There, now you got my signature.” Hurriedly, he bolted for the door, almost running over the bag boy who had refilled his cart.

“Sir! Your receipt?” called the cashier.

Justice walked back from the door, “I … I’m sorry. I just gotta go.” Grabbing the receipt he fled back out the door, pushing the cart. The cart that now lacked an occupant, “Uh-oh.”

Justice muttered, “play it cool,” as he rolled towards their rented car. They were in Indiana, in a town he thought was safe. He had a show up to work tonight, who would steal a child or, rather, a cranky alien lizard midget? Who could successfully steal a venomous, and pretty mean alien? Also Der was definitely armed with a futuristic ray gun!

As he panned back and forth Justice saw what he’d expected; a body laying on the ground. Jogging up, he found Derglabin, frantically re-covering his face with scarf and sunglasses, “Shit! What did you do? Is that guy alive?”

“Why? Did you want him dead? He does appear to be an abductor of children,” said Der, looking back and forth between the man who bled from his neck and his fake father. Holding eye contact, he slowly withdrew his X-01 Destabilizer, a weird, little, lower-powered version of the gun Justice had. It looked like a garage door opener.

“Stop it! For fuck’s sake, Der…” Justice squatted over the man. The wound on his neck was small, but there was a green liquid mingling with the blood, “What the…?”

“I envenomed him,” said Der. “I told you my people have that ability. I told you in the store.”

“You bit his neck!?” Justice asked, mouth agape.

“It’s what I could reach.” said Der, matter-of-factly.

“He’s alive,” said Justice, finding a pulse, “Let’s just … cover this up…” Buttoning the collar of the man’s black polo shirt, he managed to conceal the blood. “This venom of yours. How bad is it?”

“Bad? Well … he will dehydrate, have a headache for days, and when he wakes up he will likely suffer short-term memory loss.”

“Well, that’s convenient. Let me just…” Justice trailed off, closing the man’s car door, looking around, seeing that nobody else was in the lot, he put down the emergency break, and rolled the car over the concrete block for the parking space, into the grass beyond, and against a tree.

“What are you doing?” shouted Der.

“Giving this guy an excuse to have lost his memory.” Under the branches of a fir tree, Justice was pretty well hidden, and so felt free to hit a hammer fist on the front bumper of the car. It was a good, fist-sized ding, and looked good enough to have been caused by a accident. Plus, since the car really did roll over the concrete block, there would be some damage to the undercarriage. “That oughtta do it.”

Back to his cart, and Justice found that Der had pushed it over to the Chrona Car and was starting to unload it. “Ah, finally. I couldn’t hear your response. I shouted, why did you speak in a normal voice?”

“Shit, I don’t know,” muttered Justice, shoving bags into the car as well. “Lot on my mind.”

“No matter. I deduced your action when I heard you bludgeon the vehicle. Speaking of, it looks as if the simulated accident has been discovered,” said Der, gesturing over toward the tree. A few teenagers were at the rear of the car, and now workers were coming out to check on the situation as well.

“Good time to vamoose,” said Justice, putting Der into the passenger seat and chucking the shopping cart into the grass in front of his own car.

The pair strapped in, and Justice began to drive, “Y’know, considering that I was born before they invented the engine, I think I’m a pretty good driver.”

“Hm. Quite,” muttered Der, “Speaking of invention, remind me; when did they invent the security camera?”

“Well, shit, I dunno,” said Justice, pulling out of the parking lot and turning towards a nice, secluded country road. “Some time after they made the first video camera. Guess you’d need a TV, right?”

“So before this year, yes?” asked Der, glancing back at the scene they left behind.

Justice chuckled, “Oh yeah. Definitely. They got it now, why?”

Der nodded slowly, “Well, I’m just wondering. Do you think a large electronics store would or would not surveil its parking lot?”

Turning again, Justice moved towards the state route that would take them back to where they needed to go, still laughing. Then, “Fuck!”

“It’s fine, I’m sure,” said Der, “It’s not as if they could tell it’s you by the low-resolution video available in this era. Unless, of course, you were identified by someone at the scene.”

Justice rolled his eyes, then did a double-take, lookin at Der, “Wait a second…”

Der shrugged, “Yes, I know, my people are too blunt. Guilty.”

“No, you’re fuckin’ with me,” Justice slapped the steering wheel, shaking the steering column, “Whoops.”

“What? No. That’s silly,” Der tried to play it off.

“Come clean, dammit. Are your people even ‘more blunt’ or was that always bullshit? Or … it not bullshit, but it’s you, not your people?” Justice scowled, getting the Chrono Car up to speed.

Der laughed, a weird, croaking cackle, “Ah … well, you’ve caught on. It only took, what, three years? And we interacted on the Undertaking before the away mission.”

Justice flinched, “Jesus! I ain’t never heard you laugh before.”

“Yes, well, my punchline has never been recognized before. I am the ultimate satirist!” said the little alien, bucking wildly in his seat as he cackled again.

“No, you’re just a little asshole. And damn lucky I need you for what we’re doin’,” Justice shook his head. It actually was pretty good, but he wasn’t about to let on. Tapping the screen, Justice selected the digital button that said “Return”, then “Execute”. After a brief calculation, finding cover for an unobserved arrival in a cloud high overhead, the Flex Dynamo engaged, and they jumped over seven-hundred miles to the sky above New York City.

“Alright. Gonna drop you at the hotel room so you can do your project and track down Rockefeller’s base. Then I gotta get ready for the show,” Justice scanned the ground for a good approach, where people were unlikely to see.

“Right, but, Justice?” Der began, “I was not kidding about the cameras. If they review the video, they will see that you moved that vehicle.”

Justice scoffed, “So? They’ll see my kid get grabbed, and it’ll be weird that I moved his car instead of getting the cops, but everybody knows I’m pretty strong. A big guy could do that without weird time-travelin’ super strength.”

Der rubbernecked between Justice and the dashboard, “But … but you damaged the vehicle with your bare hand.”

“Maybe I used a hammer. They don’t know.”

“Your easily identified car traveled hundreds of miles, you will be performing in a wrestling ring, and I believe there will be three, maybe four hours between now and then? Something like that?”

Justice opened his mouth, inhaled to speak, sighed, opened his mouth again, held his breath, and, finally, “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed. But look at it this way; if we’re found out they should have neither the time to investigate us, nor will they have the power to overcome you, we’ll be gone.” Der gave a thumbs up.

Frowning, Justice looked out the window, down at the outskirts of New York City, selecting a hilly area with a country road running through it, “Yeah. Leaving. There’s a good place to set down.” He angled down, looking at the world he hoped to save, wondering if, when he was done, he’d have a place in it.