Skip to November 12, 1995 – Hill Valley, California. Marty McFly is stranded in the rain, left with confusion after Doc Brown spontaneously disappeared after being struck by lightning whilst in the DeLorean, which was still tethered with the carnival ribbons that were attached to it.

It's raining, and all that remains are the carnival ribbons, cut off from the DeLorean when it disappeared in the flash.

Chapter 1 – A Strange Confrontation

"Doc... Doc.." I faintly called out.

How could he be gone just like that? The car hadn't even been moving, so how could it have received the 88 miles per hour speed that it needed to travel? This doesn't make sense; I ran back to the dimly lit fire that was still in the bucket, it was getting too cold; and too late. I only had one option left to go with-To come back to the younger Doc's house.

Just then, in the midst of the pouring rain, a pair of faintly glowing headlights was approaching. It was a courier van, pulling up in the road behind me, besides the Hill Valley sign. Why would the car stop here? I rose giving a confused look. If the driver had wanted me to move forward, he/she would've honked at me. But no, the person just stayed there.

I tried to signal out to him, whilst also trying to overcome my tears over the disappearance of the Doc.

"Uh.. Hello?" I waved out to the stranger.

In reaction, he slowly opened the door. He appeared to be a little shaken up, soaked in the rain with his red, velvet coat. He struggled to get out of the car, and had a cane to assist him in walking. There was a badge on his chest saying, "Western Union." He was a Western Union courier, but what could he want out here, at 11 at night?

"Aw yo Maw..Mawtee MiFwy?"

Who was.. Mawtee MiFwy? I tried to rejoinder out to him; "Uh.. What did you say?"

His mouth kept quivering, as if he was trying to form a word, but something didn't allow him to speak. After a few awkward seconds, he finally managed to speak.

"A...you… Mahtee... Mmm... Mm...Fwi?"

A disabled courier. Out of all the things that could've happened in 1955, a disabled courier. I best send him out on his way.

"Nope, you got the wrong person."

"Oh...oh...Ka...ay."

He went back in his car, still struggling. As he was limping back, I noticed a wax stamped envelope in his hand.

"Hey uh.. What's that in your hand?"

He turned around to look at me. "O… oh.. nuh.. nuthin." After, he, again, finally managed to cough out what he wanted to say, however, he started to fall over; I ran over to help him up again. He started coughing uncontrollably, until, after a few minutes later, I managed to get him back to his feet, and back into his van. Without further notice, he simply drove away, with the impeding water droplets making a clunking noise as they hit upon the van's rusted surface. Soon, nothing else was in sight; the bucket of fire had now been putout with the dampening rain, the sign was still standing lean as it was before, and the ribbons were still there, laid on the ground. By now, all that was left in the sky were the dark clouds, completely encompassing the remnants of the moon's shine.