Chapter 1: Rough Landing
Time: Unknown
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
A crackle of lightning fluttered in the middle of the alleyway, moments later it was accompanied by a thunderous crack and then the telltale sound of metal impacting the ground.
The thump sound was soon accompanied by a groan of pain. A dark shape lay on the ground for a few moments, steaming slightly due to the heat of the sudden movement before eventually pushing itself up.
The shape slowly took form into the figure of a man, standing a little over five foot seven in total, clad in a long dark trench coat. Dirtied steel pauldrons lay atop each of the figures shoulders, a murky chest piece hidden just underneath the coat, trailing down were armoured greaves, desert brown in colour.
Two red lenses lit up as they scanned their surroundings, the armoured gas mask gave no indication of the facial expression of the wearer.
The figure looked around, eventually recognising they were in an alleyway, then their mask looked downwards. Then froze.
At the base of their feet, was the damages remains of what appeared to be a gun like shape, the grip was cracked, trigger broken off and the glass cylinder which had replaced the barrel was shattered, exposing all the damaged components to the open.
"...Shit." Came the heavily muffled voice of the figure, leaning downwards and picking up the remains of the weapon. Giving it a once over, they looked back around their location before holding the bulky computer like item on their left arm, a green flash accompanied the disappearance of the broken device.
The figure closely examined the alleyway for a few more moments, then turned their head towards the exit onto what appeared to be the main street.
Moving somewhat bristly, but still with an air of caution around him, the armoured figure immediately emerged onto what appeared to be a rather run down street. Many of the building held graffiti, most of the windows were missing glass or were boarded up and several metal barrels held fires in them with dozens crowding around each one for warmth.
Several heads turned to see the rather bizarrely dressed man, although most immediately dismissed it.
The man heard several low moans about 'Another freak' or something along the lines.
"Not Freeside." He thought to himself, despite its similarities to the old location, it wasn't nearly ruined enough to be the run down old neighbourhood. Although it somehow managed to hold the same feeling of scum and villainy despite it.
Either way, the man needed information. Homeless people heard things, they had naught much else to do with their time except listen and beg. They'd have information, then he'd find his way back home once he determined where he was.
He turned and moved up the street, red eyes occasionally glanced in the direction of another individual, most averted their gaze.
The man froze when he locked eyes with another individual. This one, elderly man, woollen coat and ripped gloves, small scar just under his lip, matched the armoured figures look with an impassive stare. This one would do, looked like he'd been on the streets for a while. Wasn't afraid, that was good. Made him less likely to lie out of fear.
He needed to be seen as reasonable, not as a thug. Homeless talked to eachother two, would make it difficult to gain aid if he was see to threaten them.
The man made his way over to the aged man, slowly but without hostility. Old man recognised this, but kept up his guard. Smart, best thugs aren't open in their aggression, they wait until they are close to take you by surprise.
"Evening." The armoured figure greeted in a steady tone of voice, portraying neither aggression nor compassion. Homeless didn't like to be pitied, he'd found.
"Evenin'" The man nodded back "Yer new." he observed.
"I am. Not been here before. Looking to trade for information."
The old man narrowed his eyes "Depends on the information."
"No interest in Cartels or local gangs. Information I seek is much more basic." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bottle "Purified water. If questions are answered."
The old man grunted "Powell."
"Courier."
"Not like any mailman I've ever seen." He grunted.
"Delivering messages is dangerous work. Find that more than one person wants the same package, and are less than reasonable." He held up the water bottle "Do we have a deal?"
The man's eyes went from the water bottle to the red lenses "Ask yer questions."
The helm nodded slightly "Where am I, specifically?"
Powell raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the nature of the question "East End of Gotham. You want specifics, yer near Crime alley."
"Gotham. Unfamiliar with the city, West Coast?"
Powell scowled "You been living under a rock?"
The Courier continued to stare at him in silence for what felt like an eternity before Powell scoffed and shook his head "East coast."
The way the Courier's head jerked slightly and his body tensed caused Powell to narrow his eyes at the man I suspicion.
"East Coast?"
"Yes."
The Courier leaned in, then turned his head and took another look over the street before back to the man "You don't look Legion."
Powell scoffed "What is that, a gang?"
Now the Courier tilted his head in confusion slightly "Caesar's Legion. The army formed through the conquest of the Eastern Tribes."
Powell stared at him in open confusion "...The fuck are ya talking about?"
The helm looked away for a few moments in thought, before back to the man "Does the New California Republic sound familiar to you?"
"No."
"Brotherhood of Steel?"
"No."
"Enclave?"
"No." Powell snapped "An Enclave of what anyway?"
The Couriers arms dropped, head looking up for a few moments, his voice came out as a quiet whisper "What year is it?"
"March 10th, 2010." Powell replied. The Couriers head snapped down to him, red lenses glaring him down before he wordlessly handed Powell the bottle of clean water.
"Gratitude." He thanked the man with a slight nod, then abruptly carried on his path down the street. Powell watched him leave with a raised eyebrow before muttering to himself.
"Weirdo."
The Courier continued to walk down the street, ignoring the bizarre looks he got from the occasional passer-by. The information he'd just received swirling around in his head.
2010. That wasn't right. No...saying it wasn't right was a gross understatement.
What it was was a mess. Provided the man wasn't lying or ignorant, and he'd have to be very ignorant to have no idea who the Legion were, considering they were in Legion territory.
He wasn't that familiar with pre-war history, Gannon had been kind enough to occasionally supply him with information and the other Followers had a small selection of books on hand whenever he visited the old fort.
However he never actually looked into specific events. The only thing he was aware of, if it was truly 2010, was that Cazadores had already escaped from Big Mountain. Courtesy of Borous's.
A cheerful thought.
However, what he knew of the 'Transportalplonder' was that it only dealt in matter transportation, not time travel. He imagined that the Think Tank would have alerted him to that potential possibility.
Unfortunately, the Transportalplonder was broken, thanks to his rather rough landing. Which, unfortunately, left him trapped in this time period.
Unless he was dealing with post war crazies who decided to reset the calender. Which was also a possibility, although even in its scummy environment, everything looked far too clean to be a nuclear wasteland. It came close though, although that was obviously very telling for Gotham that it wasn't quite as bad as Freeside.
There was only one way to find out if he was in the past.
He raised his Pipboy, flicking it across to the map and then froze.
No Satellite Connection Detected
"Shit." He growled out, he didn't have an excuse for that. They were orbital satellites. They didn't just 'Go missing' in the span of several minutes.
He looked back up to the night sky.
"...Now what mess am I in?" He muttered to himself, then looked back down. He took in a deep breath.
He needed information. Which meant he needed a library. They had computers, he could familiarise himself fully with current events.
He had enough rations on his person for the time being to last at least a couple of weeks if he stretched them out.
Employment was an issue though.
He would probably stand out in a crowd, and for all the wrong reasons. He didn't need to be an expert in American History to conclude that it wasn't normal for people to be geared head-to-toe in heavy armour.
Problem was, all he had on him was armour.
Not like what was underneath his helmet was much prettier either. He wondered which would scare people more.
He continued to walk through the streets, new goal in mind. Find a library, get information.
Next steps were a work in progress.
He stopped, just shy of a homeless man, he turned his head slightly. Glowing red lenses locked onto the young man, likely shy of his twenties, sitting just next to a dumpster. Likely waiting for scraps.
The young paused, obviously sensing he was being watched, then slowly turned around to see the man in an armoured coat with a black gas mask glaring at him. The boy froze, slowly raising his hands in a placating manner.
"H-hey…" He held his shaky hands in front of him "I-I don't want no trouble...I-I ain't got much money-"
"I require directions, not finance." The Courier interrupted him, the boy paused, slowly lowering his hands but looking like he was waiting for an opportunity to bolt if something went wrong "Are you aware of the location of the nearest Library?"
"L-library?" He parroted, then shook his head "A-ain't no libraries round here...Only library I know is in central! Big building, got a sign on it…" he gestured "S-signs'll show you to the city..."
"Gratitude." The Courier courtly replied, before chucking the boy a water bottle "Clean water." was the only explanation he received before the man quickly disappeared into the streets.
The armoured Courier continued to trudge through the street, ignoring the looks he got. One thing that stood out was that few appeared surprised by his rather unorthodox appearance. Perhaps they were used to individuals who dressed in bizarre clothes. Peculiar, but it could be better thought about later.
He paused, several others in the street did as well at the sound of gunshots. It was only a passing reaction however, most went about their business as if it were nothing uncommon. Given his surroundings, he assumed it wasn't.
This 'Gotham' gave him the same feeling of Freeside, watch his back or he'd end up with a knife in it. Any number of reasons, money, clothes, food. Perhaps because you looked at someone wrong or because the attacker was in a withdrawal fuelled rage.
The Courier stared in the direction of the gunshots for several more seconds before he turned back and resumed his walk.
The occasional violence of street thugs was hardly his concern. In places like this, it was more common and somewhat pointless attempting to prevent it. He'd killed over a dozen wayward thugs in Freeside who wanted to carve him up for some asinine reason. Didn't matter how many he killed or crippled, barely a fortnight later he'd be accosted again.
The street signs, the few that were still legible, were enough to guide him out of the worst of the street. Although it was still obviously fairly scummy.
He paused. Head turning and taking in a sideways glance at the building on the opposite side of the street.
'Tomas Wayne Memorial Clinic'
Hospital, or place of healers. Useful information. Would be unlikely to purchase medical supplies, but would know where to go if he were ever gravely injured. Considering where this clinic was located, he assumed that the staff were likely used to patients.
Unfortunate.
Pre-war world appeared to be as hopeless as Post-war. Perhaps it said a lot about humans that they would always be reduced to their base instincts if the situation called for it.
Didn't contemplated it much however. Courier supposed that line of thinking was better suited for Graham. Burned man always did prefer a more theological approach to humans. Offer salvation to those who needed it.
And a bullet to those who didn't.
Irrelevant thoughts were banished from his head. Now was a time to focus. Appeared he was close to leaving Park Row.
Problem was what he would do when he entered the rest of the city. Assumed it wasn't as bad as East Side. Seen similar thing with Freeside, the worse the ghetto was, the better the upper class area. While he apparently turned few heads with his appearance here, he'd likely a better outfit.
He needed money.
Which meant he'd need to try his luck in a Pawn shop. He had a few bits and pieces he could sell.
It would likely be further up the street, wouldn't be safe to open a shop around here. Unless they were properly prepared to defend it from chancing robbers.
His eyes scanned signs hanging just above slightly run down buildings until they came across one in particular.
He didn't know if it was funny or not when he saw the name.
'Benny's bits and Pieces'
Old habits died hard when it came to dealing with people by that name. Provided he wasn't wearing a chequered suit, the Courier wouldn't indistinctively move to kill him.
Light was on, small open sign hung on the front of the door.
The Courier pushed it open, a small bell rung above his head, alerting to the fact that a potential customer had entered the building. The inside was slightly cramped. Glass display with several weapons of varying quality inside. Old helmets, a clothes rack with one's of varying quality.
It would do.
"One moment." A voice rang out, slightly aged but not too much. The Courier estimated it to be around Forty years. He was proven correct when a slightly older man, receding hairline and standing about five-foot-three entered room the through a door just behind the display case and till. Slightly yellow cotton shirt and dark grey trousers then man opened his mouth to perform a greeting "Benny's bits an-" then cut himself off when he saw his new arrival.
The man's posture changed in an instant. Shoulders squared and eyes narrowed. Left hand loosened its grip on the door handle while his right drifted downwards to his waistline.
The Courier recognised it, the man was preparing to draw a weapon. Given how he looked, he could understand it.
As non-threateningly as he could, the Courier slowly raised his hands in a placating motion "Not here to rob you. Here to trade."
The man's hand paused slightly, although did not relax "Trade?"
"I assume you deal in clothes." Head gesturing over to the rack, the man, he assumed was Benny, looked over to the clothes with a slightly raised eyebrow and then back to the Courier.
"I do...You look like you'd need'em too. Don't want people mistaking you for a wannabe bat."
"Bat?" The Courier tilted his head slightly.
"Batman." Benny re-iterated with a huff "Should be grateful I suppose. Haven't had to deal with as many thugs since he took to beating them up." he mumbled, then relaxed his posture "Still. If you're looking to trade, then I suppose I can help you...provided you've got something worth trading."
"I do." The Courier replied "Depends on if you accept Gold and Silver."
"Stolen?"
"No. Hang me downs." The Courier replied, lying. It was relatively easy "Father was a crafter. Enjoyed making stylised coins."
Benny looked at him for a few moments before he shrugged "What I don't know, won't hurt me." moving towards the desk "How many you got?"
The Courier slowly, keeping in mind that the owner could still shoot him at point blank range, reached into the pocket on his trouser leg and withdrew a couple coins.
Benny watched as a single Gold coin and two silver coins were deposited on the desk in front of him. His eyes flicked back to the Courier, before they went to the coins. Picking up on of the silver coins and examining it "History buff was he…" Benny muttered as he looked over the design, a sideways portrait of a face with the words 'Caesar Dictator' on one side and 'Magnvm Chasma' on the other.
"Don't recognise them." He muttered "Very niche, although…" he looked back to the courier "I'd be paying you for the metal itself. The design, while nice, is obviously made up. Wouldn't go far with collectors."
"Understandable. Father had quite the imagination."
Benny grunted and put the coin back down "For all three? $100"
"Silver and Gold still valuable metal. $120"
"$105" Benny replied back "I'm taking on metal from a guy in a gas mask. I'm risking it that these are stolen to begin with."
"$115."
"$110" Benny crossed his arms "Final offer."
"Deal." Courier replied back, extending his right hand and shaking Benny's.
"Hmph." Benny grunted, back, then looked over to the rack "Now what were you saying about clothes?"
"Come again." Benny called out to him as he left the building.
The Courier, holding a bag of clothes in one hand, nodded back to him "Might do. Useful items, reasonably priced."
"Ha." Benny let out a mirthless grunt of laughter as the door slammed shut. The courier turned back and retreated into an alleyway. Holding the back up to his Pip-boy, he digitized the clothes and then went to his apparel.
Swapping out his Elite Ranger armour for his newly purchased apparel.
Black boots, dark grey jeans, a long brown overcoat of middling quality, a grey button up shirt. Around his face was a small scarf, hiding his lower mouth, he wore dark sunglasses which covered up his eyes and a ushanka hat.
He now had $20 left. He assumed that wasn't very good, but would at least buy him food that wasn't irradiated.
He emerged from the alleyway, no one being the wiser and no longer drawing strange looks from people. He now could at least blend in. All he needed to do now was get to the damn library.
11:23PM
March 10th, 2010
Batcave
Batman narrowed his eyes at he alert which sounded out across the Cave. Robin paused in his pull ups at the sound coming from the batcomputer "Something up?" he called out.
Batman didn't answer, leaning forwards in his chair and pressing several buttons on the keyboard. After a few moments, the screen flashed up a map of Gotham city, before narrowing in on a specific section on the East Side.
The Location made Batman's hands freeze for just a moment before they continued in their work.
"Radiation spike." He replied back to Robin's earlier question "Located on the East Side of Gotham. Park Row."
"Radiation?" Robin frowned and dropped down "How bad?"
"Gamma, but it appears to be background. It only spiked for a moment before disappearing." He slid his chair back and stood up "Get prepared. We leave immediately."
"Alright then." Robin nodded, then looked down at his costume "Is this thing lead lined?" he looked up and found Batman's impassive expression staring back at him, "Just asking." Robin shrugged "I'm quite attacked to my hair...and I don't want KF or Speedy seeing me without my hair."
Batman stared at him for a few more seconds before abruptly turning away "You'll live. The Radiation dropped to low levels. We're investigating because it isn't common in the slums of Gotham."
"Alright, alright." Robin acquiesced "I'll get ready."
The Duo moved to the back of the Cave, Robin performing a rather exaggerated flip before landing in the passenger seat of the Batmobile. The aforementioned Driver merely climbed in before the roof shut behind them. The panel the car rested on turned towards the exit. Batman hit the ignition and the screaming of the engine signalled the vehicle speeding down the cave and out onto the open.
12:01 AM
March 11th, 2010
Gotham Public Library
He hadn't actually expected the Library to still be open at this time. He'd caught a glimpse of a clock on the front the building telling him it was barely midnight, or a little past it.
Yet. The lights were still on.
He shrugged. Better his fortune, less likely hood of being disturbed. He wanted to keep as low a profile as possible for the time being. He'd attracted a few looks, although the chilly air had likely managed to convince most people he was merely cold. His covered up features sold the illusion quite well.
He moved up the steps, although he paused as he took in a look of the surrounding neighbourhood.
He'd…
He'd never actually seen anything so clean since...well…since ever. Not even Big Mountain came close to this level of completeness and it put New Vegas to shame...and this was only the Library.
A bitter feeling welled in his stomach, in a little more than half a century it would all be gone.
"Kill the regret." He muttered to himself "Been gone for longer than you've been alive." he paused, that was the first time he'd heard his voice without his helmet.
He really did forget how young he sounded sometimes. He was only around...Twenty? He thought. He wasn't really sure, might be slightly older might be slightly younger. He truly dig forget how old he was at times.
Wasteland had a habit of slowing down time. Made you feel like you'd been there longer than you actually had.
Wondered how Doc Mitchell must have felt when he got to his age.
He blinked himself back into focus, ascending up the stairs and through the doors leading into the building itself.
The inside was very well lit, sparsely populated as well. Building extended backwards for what looked like seventy metres, maybe a hundred. Sides of the room were lined with shelves, each of was full of books.
There was a single walkway going down the middle of the building, on either side were long wooden desks with what appeared to be lamps atop them. Likely for reading during dark hours, with metal chairs just to the side of the.
He nodded to himself. This would likely be a good place to start he research. Taking a single step forwards, his eyes caught sight of something else.
Just next to the entrance, on a wheel like stand were newspapers. That wasn't what caught his attention though.
What caught his attention, was the headline.
'Justice League Foil Bomb plot'
He glared at the newspaper for nearly a full minute before he walked towards it, snatching it out of its basket and quickly skimming through the headlines and first few column sentences.
This was…
His eyebrows creased together the further along he read.
Has he accidentally picked up the equivalent of a Grognak comic? He went back to the newspaper stand, only to notice that several others brand of paper had similar headlines. Along with several magazines with colourfully dressed people on the front covers, who also happened to be appearing in the pictures on the newspapers.
The Courier slowly lowered the paper away from him.
He was left with one burning question in his head. Earlier plans now derailed by what the paper had shown him.
"What the fuck is the Justice league?" He muttered under his breath with a scowl. Taking the paper with him, he made his way further into the library. He needed to follow this up.
He was aware that some older libraries had kept archives of old newspapers. He'd start there, try and build up a timeline of events.
One thing he was certain of, was that even in the wasteland. Someone probably would have heard something about a 'Justice league.' he took another glance at the paper.
Especially if they were dressed as stupidly as that.
12:11 AM
March 11th, 2010
Park Row A.K.A. Crime Alley
Batman stared down the street with a clinical eye, the gadget in his hand alerting him that this was the focal point of the radiation spike which had occurred within the last hour. The levels had dropped off to acceptable levels. The initial burst had likely lasted no more than a second.
"This the place?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at the alleyway up and down, occasionally sending a concerned glance in Batman's direction. Hardly uncalled for, considering the importance of the alleyway they were in.
"It is." Batman replied, unemotional town of voice "Radiation originated here."
Robin stepped forwards, checking the ground "Well...There's nothing here."
"Anymore." Batman replied, crouching down and staring at the imprint of a bootprint in the grime.
"Boom tube?" Robin asked, Batman shook his head.
"Different type of reading." He stood back up "And it wouldn't just be me here." eyes turning back onto the street "Something came through, however. Human, weighing roughly 210Ibs. Possibly armoured."
Robin blinked and looked down at the foot print Batman had been staring at "...You got that from a foot print in dirt?"
Batman didn't reply, except pull out his grappling hook and aim it towards the roof. Firing off a line, he shot up towards the sky. Robin looked back at the foot print for a few more seconds before he pulled out his own grappling hook and followed the Bat.
"Okay then." Robin spoke as he joined the batman on the roof of the building "So we're apparently looking for an armoured guy. I like to imagine he would stand out in a crowd."
"Not if he's smart." Batman replied, darting forwards and surveying the street below them "He would need clothes if he hoped to avoid attention."
"Why do you think he'd want to avoid attention?" Robin asked, catching up with him.
"Because the radiation is the only reason I'm here." Batman stopped and looked down into the street. Wordlessly, he growled and then leapt down into an alleyway. Robin raised an eyebrow and peered over the ledge.
Then winced as he watched Batman slam a would-be muggers face into the ground.
"Guess that guy's night was a disaster." He mumbled with a small smile, his expression quickly turned into a thoughtful expression "...How come nothing is ever aster? Its always disaster. Weird."
Robin dropped down into the alleyway after Batman, the man who had been getting mugged having long left the scene "Okay...so this mystery guy needs clothes. Where does he get them?"
Batman wordlessly pointed across the street. Robin followed his finger, looking at the place Batman was pointing to.
"Benny's Bits and Pieces?" Robin raised an eyebrow "How'd you figure?"
"Asked the victim if he'd seen anything else tonight." Batman replied "Armoured man, gas mask with red lenses and long black coat. Seen entering that place a little under an hour ago." he walked out of the Alley, Robin trailing behind him.
"We just had to ask someone!? Why didn't we do that to begin with!"
"They had no reason to." Batman replied "I saved that man's life. He had reason to."
Robin blinked and slumped his shoulders "Alright...that's fair."
Batman threw open the shop door.
"Sorry!" A man called out "We're clos…" he trailed off when he saw who had entered, expression falling to a scowl "...Well shit."
"A-" Batman opened his mouth to ask a question, the man cut him off.
"He came in earlier. Traded me some weird coins for a hundred bucks and some clothes." He sighed, drawing up a slight a copy of the receipt "Here you go. Just don't break my bones."
"Coins?" Batman picked up on, Robin entering the pawn shop just behind him.
"Yeah. A single gold coin, two silver coins." Benny explained "Made in the style of old Roman coins, although these looked brand new."
Batman stared at him for a few moments, then turned around and left. Robin moving after him.
"Where to now?" He asked, Batman pressed a single button on his utility belt. Several seconds later, the Batmoblie roared down the street and stopped just in front of them. The roof slid open, allowing the pair to jump in.
Batman stared at the receipt for a few moments, before he looked at the inbuilt computer and began pressing several keys.
"Security cameras. Guess we know what he's dressed as." Robin muttered. The screen flicked several times before zooming in on a specific Camera.
"He's at the Gotham Public Library." Batman replied, hands going to the wheel again. Robin continued to stare at the man, dressed rather oddly reading what appeared to be newspapers.
"Huh." Robin blinked, then crossed his arms "I guess I have been skipping out on study time recently." he joked.
Batman remained impassive as the car sped down the street, new destination in mind.
12:20 AM
March 11th, 2010
Gotham Public Library
The Courier stared down at the newspapers assembled before him.
"Will you need anything else, sir?" The Librarian, a kindly red head by the name of Jeanette asked him. She'd been helpful enough to show him to their archive of old newspapers.
He'd asked for the more specific ones related to the 'Justice League' which she had joked about him being a fan.
"No." He voice replied back distantly, still focused on the assembled papers in front of him "Gratitude for your aid."
Jeanette smiled at him briefly before nodding her head and turning away "Just let me know when you're done."
The Courier mumbled back a reply, still focused on the papers.
Batman? Wonder Woman? Green Lantern? Flash? Superman?
What the hell was this? It didn't make any sense. These characters were treated as if they really existed. He'd initially thought it was a widely recognised comic that others bought. Although even that had its problems considering he didn't recognise any of the characters. He imagined at least one of them would have survived in a newspaper until the Twenty Two hundreds.
Still...the more he read through the papers, the less made sense. It wasn't just that he didn't recognise the characters. He didn't recognise anything else.
He had no idea what 'Lex Corp' was. Or Star Labs, or Wayne Enterprises.
He slumped into his chair, head falling into his hands.
Possibilities?
A drug induced Hallucination. Unlikely. He didn't really touch the damn things. He'd seen what the Fiends were, he didn't consider himself the most civilised of people, but he hardly considered himself a junkie savage either. Also he imagined that Julie Farkas herself would have tried to string him onto a cross like a Legionnaire if she caught wind of him taking something like Jet.
The woman had a strong dislike of drugs. Not entirely unfounded. They messed with the mind, short term benefits for long term cons were hardly a fair trade.
He was dead and this was the dying vision of his slowly rotting corpse? Unlikely as well. He'd been hungry enough to eat something earlier.
Radroach meat still tasted of shit.
He'd cut off Timetravel as a possibility. None of the dates, names and faces matched up.
Leaving one, increasingly likely, conclusion.
Parallel Earth.
In which case, it was a good news bad news situation. Good news? He wasn't going to be obliterated by Chinese Nukes in sixty years. Bad News? He was apparently trapped on a world which regularly faced annihilation at the hands of alien invaders, was home to actual aliens, and he was currently in the city which was home to a man who dressed as a Bat.
And a gallery of colourful psychopathic murderers with inhuman abilities.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? He sat back in his chair, eyes staring off into the distance as he took in his situation.
He needed that Transportalplonder repaired. He wasn't smart enough to do it himself. He knew that. Which meant he needed help. Fortunately, it appeared that this world was home to geniuses of the Think Tanks...possible equal.
It was a stretch, he knew it. It was also his only option. The problem was getting to them without being seen as insane.
Aliens were one thing, the Courier wasn't sceptical about their existence, but a time travelling man from an alternate world?
He may as well ask them to clear out a room for him in...He leaned in and looked at the name Arkham Asylum.
Although considering the words accompanying the headline were 'Joker Escapes again' he had varying thoughts on this.
Why didn't they just kill him? The Courier would. If even half the deeds accredited to him in these papers were accurate, the Courier would have snapped his neck, burned the body and scattered the ashes.
He stood back up. Placing the papers back into their assigned folders as neatly as he could. While their contents were disturbing to them, that was no reason to disrespect them. That and Jeanette had done him a service, he would not trouble her with his own irritation.
He picked up the folders and made his way to the front desk, Jeanette looked up from her terminal and saw him coming over to her. Wordlessly he placed the folders down in front of her.
"Gratitude." He bowed his head slightly at her "They were most enlightening."
"Yeah." She nodded along, the corners of her lips curled upwards "I still sometimes have trouble believing its all real."
"So do I." The Courier muttered as he left, pushing the doors open and leaving back into the cold.
The Courier walked down the steps and back onto the main street, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the city with a new found eye. Now that he thought about it, some of their technology looked far more streamlined than he was used to.
For one thing, the cars looked completely different. They were more blocky in their design rather than the smooth oval like shapes of the ruined vehicles he had seen.
He frowned behind his scarf "Where to now…" He muttered to himself.
"I have a couple suggestions." Or so he thought, head snapping to his right as a voice answered him. He raised an eyebrow at his new visitor.
Dressed in a red costume with a black circle and a yellow 'R' over his left breast, black cape with a yellow inner lining, exposed arms ending in black armoured gloves, yellow belt and yet more black leggings. Atop his head and youthful features was a mop of short combed black hair and a mask covering his eyes.
"Although they kinda depend on what you do first." The boy continued on, arms crossed although his posture indicated that the boy was studying him. He'd seen smarter opponents do the same, looking for weaknesses and strengths.
Boy was obviously smart.
He also recognised him from one of the papers. A name clicked "Robin." the Courier greeted evenly "Sidekick to Batman." the Couriers head briefly scanned their surroundings "Assume he is nearby."
If Robin was impressed by his deduction, he didn't show it. Still holding the same smug expression on his face as he stared the oddly dressed man down.
The Courier felt the back of his neck tingle, he slowly turned his head to see a tall figure emerge from the darkness. A fully body dark grey armoured suit covered him, black bat like sigil on his chest and pointed eared cowl and long cape trailing behind him.
Robin and Batman. It appears his 'go unnoticed plan' had barely even lasted the night.
"An hour ago there was a burst of radiation on the East Side of Gotham." Batman growled out, deep voice that reverberated through the Courier. A lesser man would have been intimidated.
Although the Courier had to give this 'Batman' props. He was coming close to Lanius in terms of intimidation. Although he lacked the height to really sell it. Then again, few could really match the Legion Legate in that department.
"I am responsible for it." The Courier immediately replied, Robin didn't say anything although his body tensed. Batman made no moves except narrow his eyes "Accident. Wasn't intended to bring me here."
"Aren't you gonna deny it?" Robin asked, sounding slightly disappointed. Courier put it down to youthful energy, suspected the boy would have liked to try and catch him out on a lie.
"No point." He replied back, turning back to Robin "You are already here. Attempting to lie to 'Worlds Greatest Detective' would be a challenging prospect." he turned back to Batman "Know when I'm caught out."
"Where were you supposed to go?" Batman growled out.
"Home." Was the one word answer he received "Long story. Best not discussed in the open. Will assume you would rather question than torture."
Batman narrowed his eyes but slowly moved forwards until he was barely a metre from the Courier.
"Robin." Batman commanded. The Courier turned to see the boy produce a pair of Bat shaped handcuffs. He would have scoffed at the peculiarity of the design had he been in any other situation.
Wordlessly, the Courier turned away from the boy and placed his wrists behind his back. Robin shrugged and handcuffed the man.
Batman produced a small, gun shaped device with a needle at the tip.
"Would advise against drugs." The Courier spoke up "High resistance to sleeping agents. Easier to blindfold me."
Batman stared at him for a few moments before he nodded his head. Instead producing a bizarre tape a bag.
The Courier raised an eyebrow but acquiesced to the hat being removed and the bag being slipped over his head. Batman made no comments about the scars.
"Lets go." Batman grabbed his shoulder and led him off, allowing the Dark Knight to guide his movement.
He got the feeling this was going to be a long night.
For all of them.
AN: Always wanted to do a Fallout fic!
Saw there weren't too many fics with Fallout and Young Justice so I figured.
'Fine. I'll do it myself.'
But yeah. It's going to be a similar thing to my other story on Hiatus.
Until one of my other stories is completed, I probably won't be updating this one. Depends how I feel.