A/N: Hello again from the land of bizarre crossovers and self-fulfilling prophecies. Thank you all for your feedback on the first chapter; I don't intend to post chapters this frequently since... well that's a lot of work and my life is already hectic enough at the moment, but I wanted to put some more up for you to enjoy and get the story rolling. I haven't decided what the schedule is going to be yet, but I'll let you know as soon as I have. Anyway, here's part two of our SPARTAN's strange adventures in Falloutland. Enjoy!

All assets belong to their respective companies.

Chapter 2: Getting Antiquated With the Locals

With an immediate mission objective ahead of me, my mind began forming a path forward. I went back to the corpses and searched them for weapons. One had another one of those cobbled together handguns, but the other had something that looked, roughly, like it was made for firing bullets. Stamped steel with wooden grips and actual iron sights. It was oddly bulky and round, but it seemed to be a real firearm. I found a spare magazine tucked in his belt, gave one makeshift gun to Alexandra and discarded the other.

"Where is the Museum?"

The woman was fumbling with the handgun I'd given her; hopefully she didn't have to use it. "Out the front, take a left, 5 streets down, take a right and three more streets."

I nodded. "Stay behind me, stay quiet, watch your step."

Alexandra returned my nod and I cleared our exit before I slipped out into the street. Another oddity was the lack of a guard for these men. They seemed to be this attack's leadership, so why wouldn't they be protected? Maybe they had sent their men out to search for the party they were after, but you would still want a rear guard. These guys were amateurs, a band of raiders. Clearly no military training or significant intelligence or experience.

No reason to get relaxed. I might be able to cover up my mistakes against them, but Alexandra and her people wouldn't.

So I continued systematically clearing potential sniper posts, ambush areas, stuck to good (relatively speaking) cover, took blind corners carefully, and stayed as silent as possible. On the other hand, my charge's footsteps were loud, clumsy, and obvious. Painfully so. Unfortunately sound is one of those things that, regardless of someone's incompetence, can give you away immediately. I came to a stop in another small alley and waved her up to me.

My eyes never stopped scanning the alley and accompanying buildings. "Are you injured?"

"Why?" The snappish answer gave me all the info I needed.

"Because it's going to give us away. We need to find you a place to lay low."

"Yeah, the museum."

"If the Raiders are on the right track, we'll get jumped before we make it."

"Then kill them before they kill me. I'm not staying out of this fight."

I rounded on her. "Don't try to be a hero. You want my help, you do what I say." 'Argument' was written all over Alexandra's face, but she canned it. "Good. That two story looks intact enough." She followed my gesture to the yellowish building across the street. "Stay hidden and do not fire unless absolutely necessary."

"Let's just lure the fuckers to us?"

I'd considered it, and while they may be stupid enough to fall for it, there was always the chance one of these asshats might not. If the lure was good enough, maybe that wouldn't matter, but we're also operating against the clock; I don't know how long they've been searching or how close they might be. If they are close we were back to giving our presence away and wasting the element of surprise.

"Too many unknowns."

"No, it's safer if we get them away from the museum. If you're so good, you kill them alone."

While the mocking tone didn't do her any favors, I wasn't willing to entertain an argument about tactics with a civilian. "I'll make this clear once more: we're doing this my way. You play hero, I'm gone."

I didn't wait for her response before moving to the prescribed building. After searching for possible stragglers, I settled on the main room of the second floor. It's only point of egress was the stairs, had enough shadow to hide Alexandra from prying eyes, and the window had a commanding view of the street.

"Stay in here until I come back. If you get in trouble, fire three times as fast as you can."

Alexandra's expression was mildly indignant with a touch of doubt. "What if they find my people first?"

"They won't." I turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm and tried to turn me back. It wasn't enough for her to hear me say; I can understand that. She was proud, and stubborn, and she cared for her group.

And she was completely at my mercy. She doesn't- can't trust me, and her friends' maybe even family's lives were at stake.

I faced her again. "If they're even remotely intelligent, they'll know your people will be in a large building or risk getting trapped. As long as the Raiders are thinking the same I'll be able to narrow my search."

"And what if they hit the museum while you're too far away?"

"I'm going to work my way out from that location." It wasn't much detail, but that was all the explanation I was willing to give. "I need to go. Keep your head down."

Alexandra's stern, almost angry facade fell away in that moment; she looked vulnerable and desperate. On the verge of tears. "Please-" her voice was almost a sob, "please save them. My son is with them." I nodded and her hand fell back to her side.

Back out in the street I skirted the last few blocks before making a right on what looked like the small, broken town's main avenue. It was lined with small shops, or what was left of them, a few balconied buildings with banisters collapsed and roofs falling in on themselves. The torn, pockmarked road ended at the museum: a massive structure for the city constructed from deep brown wood that, while all of the paint had been long ago stripped away, looked relatively intact. Apart from what looked like some kind of aircraft crashed into the roof.

With how dilapidated each building was, I couldn't risk using the roofs; it was probably pure luck the building I'd left Alexandra in hadn't collapsed under my feet. That meant doing things from ground level or maybe the second story of the structures which complicated things: I wouldn't be able to get sightlines on anything shorter than the buildings around me.

My gaze went back to the museum's roof. It was at least 5 meters clear of the surrounding structures. Is that strong enough? It would be my best chance and if it could hold up to whatever kind of aircraft had crashed into it, I shouldn't have any difficulty.

I slipped down the right side of the street, careful to remain in the buildings' shadows. Nothing moved as I skirted my way to the building closest to the museum. After one more check no one was around, I looked up to study my latest issue: if I had the use of both hands, I could climb to the top in a matter of seconds. With one, I'd have to climb only using my feet with my hand to hold myself to the wall. I could do it, but the time it would take was unacceptable. That left going inside, or jumping from an adjacent building. If I went inside I'd risk contact with Alexandra's group, something I've considered, but it would complicate the situation. Not out of the question. Jumping presents its own difficulties, namely the launch point and landing point. The nearest building is across the street, a good 10 meter gap. That, again, wouldn't be difficult but the odds of the structures living through it were low.

Or I scout the entrances to the Museum and wait…

I hated myself for thinking that, I despise being on the defensive. It means you're reacting to the opposition, and they get the initiative. I'd be a hypocrite if I let that make the decision for me; it's exactly what I told Alexandra.

Defense it is then. I searched through several structures, looking for anything long and thin made from steel that wasn't rusted through. I found a few lengths of rebar in one of the buildings across the street from the museum. With the steel rods in hand, I carefully circled the building, watching for Raiders as I went. At each of the three auxiliary entrances, I slipped a length of rebar through the door handles and twisted the ends together. It wasn't a perfect solution, but at the very least if they were going to get through anything but the front door it would be loud. As chance had it, there weren't any windows on the bottom floor. The ones that were on the second and third floors were small and would be difficult for any average person to get to.

That finished, I returned to the main entrance, found a good vantage point on the second floor of a crumbling three story about two thirds of the way up the street.

Waiting… Even now, with very little coherent memory, I know I've always hated waiting like this. Years of practice and discipline buried the impatience, but it had never left.

At least that's something else I remember.

As I waited, sun traversing the hazy, brown sky, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to the situation I'd been plunged into. How did I end up here? The evidence in front of me said I was in a… different timeline? Parallel universes? Something like that. How would something like that happen? What was I doing before I woke up? I tried delving back into the ruddy mess that was still my head; while it was slowly clearing up and I was able to remember more, most specifics still escaped me. And the question begs to be asked: does worrying about it now do me any good? I won't be able to figure it out and even if I could, I don't have the resources to do anything with that information.

It was a valid thought, but that didn't matter. My mind was racing, trying to come to a more logical conclusion with the given evidence; maybe this was a distant planet that had tried to emulate Earth, if they had been a colony that split off long ago. Maybe they never had contact with the UNCS again before blowing themselves to hell.

Technology.

If they nuked themselves, maybe this is all they would have left: cobbled together armor and weapons, broken down cities and no recourse.

AI, data storage, weapons/technology stockpiles, even base knowledge of any group that could start a colony like that would give it a 500 year head start in technology over what these people have.

Every time I thought of a different solution, it came back to that: technology. The environment, while a hangup, I could justify. The lack of knowledge of the UNSC was more difficult, but there were scenarios it could make sense. But unless this civilization had blown themselves up and then somehow regressed dramatically, forgetting about space travel altogether in the process, it just didn't seem possible.

I shook my head violently to clear it and refocused on the task at hand. Maybe the 'Brotherhood' or 'Enclave' would give me a solution to all of this. Maybe not, but if I was going to get to that point I'd need more intel and my best shot at doing that right now is protecting these people.

My mission clock read 0615, I'd waited two and a half hours. The sun had been descending for the past two hours or so. It was certainly possible the Raiders were waiting until nightfall to make their move; I seriously doubt 'Preston' has thermal or NV optics, if they were afraid of a sniper that would be the best time to do it.

No… they're sweeping the town and if the clumps of bodies on the approach were anything to go by, they didn't pay much attention to tactics. I shook my head, making assumptions like this was the best way to get people killed, but what choice did I have? If these guys got inside, the following chaos would make it impossible to keep all of Alexandra's people alive.

Then a noise caught my attention. Shuffling, multiple sets of feet. They were trying to be quiet, but failing miserably at it. They were coming from an adjoining street two intersections away. There were at least 5 different people I could make out, possibly more.

I peered toward the approaching Raiders and a few seconds later the first rounded the corner. I scoffed; he was dressed in the same leather and rusty steel as the others I'd seen, walking in a half crouch but making no effort to use visual cover. Hell, the rifle he cradled wasn't even at the ready. No attempt at scanning his surroundings, eyes fixed on the museum.

Just have to wait.

6 more followed in short order, 4 men, 2 women, all showing the same lack of awareness as their comrade. They ambled down the street toward the museum. The one thing I could give them credit for is their spacing: unlike the others, they had at least 5 meters between each other. My question was where the others were; Alexandra had said there were at least 10 still out there, possibly up to 15. This may have only been half the contingent, so I need to take them out quietly.

As they approached the museum, I descended to street level and shadowed the group. The 7 of them seemed to be wary of the structure. It's certainly possible the Raiders had cleared the rest of the town and zeroed in on the group's hideout. In any case they would probably try to breach the front and clear it.

How to deal with them then? Flashy or subtle? A few plans filtered their way into mind and I couldn't help but grin as I settled on one. There was no way I'd be able to cross the street and drop all of them before any fired with how far spread they were. If they were smart they'd maintain that spacing once they reached the museum entrance, so I needed to create some time and uncertainty. There was always the chance they would still panic fire, but it was not more certain than if they saw me.

Plan in mind, I moved ahead of them to the second floor of the closest building to the entrance, a dull blue, half collapsed two story across the street, maybe 15 meters from the front doors and waited.

5 of them clumped up in front of the doors in a semicircle, all pointing their weapons toward the entrance. One flanked either side of the double doors.

Please make this easier.

Time to make them regret their lack of tactical awareness. Briefly.

I retreated to the far wall, turned back to what was left of the wall facing the street, and sprinted for the opening.

The structure shook under my charge. As I reached the edge, I drove myself forward, floor splintering like matchwood, but I was airborne and heading straight for the group assembled in front of the entrance.

A few of the faces just began turning when 500 kilograms of Spartan and MJOLNIR plowed into the closest of the group. Bone turned to powder as my armor clad boots met the man's chest and drove him to the ground. What was left became a bloody smear as I rolled over him. The others collapsed as I tumbled into their legs, bones snapping. As I completed the roll, my knife leaped to my hand and an instant later was embedded in the man to the left of the door. The other died as he turned to see what had happened, my forearm crushing his head against the museum's wooden siding hard enough to splinter the wood.

Just as he fell to the ground, someone shouted, "OH SHIT." It wasn't from any of the still living Raiders on the ground.

I turned back for the street in time to see another group of 5 sprinting down the street toward me. There was one more kneeling behind all of them a few dozen meters away. He was shouldering some kind of RPG launcher.

...oh.

As the rocket exploded from the tube, my legs were driving once again. I launched upwards, right hand flying for a window above me on the third floor. I clasped onto it and planted my boots into the side of the building as the explosion concussed the air like a massive punch and blew a gaping hole in the wall where the Raider's body had been.

Head twisting around, I saw several flashes of small arms fire and rounds began peppering the wood around me. And the launcher? The bandit was just shouldering it again.

Damn, that thing must be a fast reload.

I gathered my feet once again and just after he hit the firing stud, I leapt from the side of the building. Everything slowed to a crawl as I twisted, mid air. The rocket passed centimeters under my torso, close enough I could feel the heat of the exhaust through my armor. A second explosion shook the museum and the blast of hot air threatened to send me tumbling forward but I managed to keep my chest down and shoulders aimed at the ground

My right hand snagged the handgun from my hip as I fell toward the street. If those small arms were the same caliber as it or the cobbled together weapons the others had I didn't have anything to worry about, but I wasn't going to risk further damage to my armor when I have no way of performing manual repair.

A split second later I contorted once again, rolling into the landing and the moment I came out of it the handgun was up, sights centered on the rearmost Raider. My finger tightened around the sidearm's trigger and it barked a round straight through the bridge of the man's nose. As the action cycled closed, I had the next one in my sights and sent another bullet on its way. And another. They all ran at me, slow moving, poorly armored targets. Before any of them could register it; all 5 were dead.

The last one tumbled to the ground and, besides the moaning from the members of the first group still alive, the town was still. I slid the magazine from the handgun; 5 rounds left and another in the chamber. The three survivors of my stunt were laying in a pile where I'd landed, covered in the blood of their crushed comrade.

I couldn't assume I'd eliminated the entire contingent. My feet carried me back to the mound of body parts and I executed the remaining Raiders. The patter of running reached me once the pistol's report faded, coming from the street I'd turned from. Did Alexandra-

A shuffle from one of the museums above me caught my attention. I looked up just in time to see the barrel of...something aimed straight for my head. My hand tensed around the handgun, but I kept it down; this had to be someone from Alexandra's group. Instead, I dove for the side of the building where the gunman wouldn't be able to get a clear shot on me.

The rifle discharged, but it wasn't the explosion of any powder based weapon I'd ever heard. The pavement behind me exploded in a shower of pulverized asphalt, but I was out of the line of fire.

Enemy of my enemy doesn't mean my friend.

I crouched at the base of the wall and aimed my procured weapon at the window. "Hold fire, Alexandra sent me to help."

"I'll wait until I hear that from her, until then you stay the hell away from us or I put you down." That must be the guy she called 'Preston'. His tone said he knew that wouldn't happen but it did me no good to force the issue.

"She'll be here in a moment."

'Preston' fell silent; I could feel him searching the pockmarked mess of a street in front of the museum for a sign of the approaching woman. 20 seconds ticked off my mission clock when Alexandra rounded the corner and began running toward us favoring her left leg.

"Now hold fire."

"O-okay. Okay."

I stood, but kept the pistol trained on the window. My gaze fell back to the approaching Alexandra. As she neared, she beheld the corpse strewn street and slowed to a shocked stop. Her eyes ran over my armor; I'm sure it was almost dripping blood. Probably hadn't been the first time.

"What happened here?"

The call was clearly directed at me, but 'Preston' answered. "Is this thing… guy with you?"

"You did this?" I only nodded. Who else would? The woman's eyes never left me, a hint of distrust, and an all too familiar fear there. I know I've seen that look before. "I asked him to come help. Did he do all this?"

"Tore through them like a pack of Yao Gui." Both voices were shaky. Had everyone reacted like this? Still tumultuous memories suggested so. "You sure he's on our side?"

I shifted my gaze to Alexandra. With the small caliber handgun tucked in her waistband, she didn't seem apt to do anything stupid, but you never know. The woman was even more hesitant than she had been back at the storefront. She'd seen me kill her interrogators and barely bat an eye, is this really that different? I gave her a nod.

"No, but do we have a choice?"

Despite myself, I heaved a sigh. Not what I was going for.

'Preston' cleared his throat. "Mystery man, what do you want from us?"

"Information."

"Like?"

"History." A lot of it.

That caught the man off guard, so Alexandra stepped in to fill the silence. "He says he isn't from around here. Didn't know we were in Boston or what Raiders are. Hell, he asked if we were on Earth."

"What? Is he an alien or something?"

I cocked my head at Alexandra; have these people run into aliens? Were the Covenant here? Is that why both were asking the same question? The genocidal conglomerate didn't have anything that resembled humanity, but it was fairly clear things aren't going to operate by normal standards here. "I'm not an alien. I won't attack unless you give me a reason. It's fine if you don't trust me, but I'm asking some questions before I leave."

"Like?"

"First, we're going to come inside. There may still be stragglers out here." I motioned my head toward the door. Alexandra didn't respond for a moment; before I could decide if it was because she didn't want to or didn't understand, she limped over to the entrance and worked one of the large wooden doors open.

Preston finally responded as it swung wide. "Okay, but hands where I can see them at all times." A twinge of irritation flashed through my head. Right.

The patter of feet followed as several people scrambled around the top floor. "Julian?" Alexandra was inside. I followed through the front door; somehow the interior was in much worse condition than the exterior. The floor was caved in bad enough to see the basement. Splintered, rotting, and broken wood was scattered everywhere. A security door still stood in the center of the entryway, but the walls were so decrepit, I could probably get through them without causing much more damage. The room beyond was just as run down, with a set of collapsing stairs leading to the next floor. Off to either side of the entryway were rooms with, presumably, what was left of whatever exhibits had been there. A half dozen people were already hurrying down the stairs on the opposite side of the jail style security door.

"Mom", one of them shouted. He was tall, tan, and skinny, maybe 15 years old with dirty blonde hair and clothes that looked more like rags. He also took a striking resemblance to Alexandra. "Are you okay?" Julian sprinted around the gaping hole in the floor, pulled a lever beside the door, and yanked it open.

"Of course I am." The woman's calm, stern demeanor was back.

The two of them embraced while the others, still at the bottom of the staircase, eyed me, faces a mixture of suspicion and fear. "You Brotherhood?" The man who asked was shorter, oddly styled black hair and had a pair of welder goggles hanging over his white shirt and denim overalls.

Right. The people with advanced enough technology in this wasteland to have power armor. "No, I don't know who they are."

He looked genuinely taken aback. "Who- the Brotherhood? The Brotherhood of Steel? Don't bullshit me man, everyone knows them."

"I don't."

The man's expression soured. "That's a bit suspicious don't you think?"

Another set of footsteps began down the stairs. "Hold on Sturges." It was Preston. The rifle he carried was strange: wood stock with what looked like focusing lenses set in front of a long, thin box. Is that some sort of laser weapon? He was dark skinned wearing a white long coat and wide brimmed hat. This guy looked like he was straight out of an early millennium docu-vid.

His rifle was held at the low ready in my general direction. My procured sidearm hadn't left my hand.

"You gonna put that away?"

I shook my head. "I don't know you."

"I thought I said I wanted to see your hands at all times."

"You can see them." I didn't need the weapon if the situation came down to it, but the pistol helped get my point across. "Drop the act."

Preston watched me, eyes oddly keen. "You saved us because you want information. That information is worth a dozen lives?"

"Would you rather I let them kill you?"

"No. But I want to know who massacres a group they apparently know nothing about to get information we may not even have."

His question made sense but he was asking the same thing in different ways. Did he expect a different answer? He clearly didn't like what he was hearing, but that was his problem not mine. "What are you asking?"

A frown spread across his face. "I want to know why you killed those Raiders."

"I've already told you." I paused for a moment as realization struck. "You want to know if you're next."

Preston motioned to the front door. "You killed those men because some stranger asked you to; doesn't seem like the most reliable type of person."

Hold on. He thinks I killed the raiders because Alexandra asked me to? "I don't intend to stick around longer than it takes to get my questions answered."

"Stop being so difficult Preston; we were dead anyways and ain't very often someone falls from the sky and changes that." That was one of the other civilians, an elderly woman with a soft, drawling voice, wearing an old ragged blue jacket, scarf, and head wrap. Her tone was tired, stale even.

The expression that crossed Preston's face told a similar story. "Mama Murphy, this is about our saf-"

"No it isn't. You aren't fooling anyone, least of all him. We all saw what he did out there, what he did for us. Those Raider were going to finish what Quincy started and this man comes as a gift and sweeps them aside like nuclear fire did the Old World. He's here to help, can't you see that?"

Claims that bordered on divine intervention were a bit far for me, but if it got me closer to getting what I needed I don't mind.

"Mama Murphy-"

The old woman wasn't going to let up. "Have I been wrong about these things before?"

Alexandra approached as she finished, her right arm draped over her son's shoulders. Her face had a hint of that same desperation that she had when I'd left her at that house; it was more guarded this time, but I felt it all the same. "Are you here to help us? I know you want to know what's going on and we can help, but we won't make it without someone who can fight these assholes back." She wasn't begging. I have to give her credit, she's remarkably calm for a civilian.

Unfortunately, mission objectives and sentimentality rarely went together.

"I can't offer anything until I know more about the situation."

If that's the case, why did I choose to help these people?

"What do you need?"

Why did I feel the need to explain myself to Alexandra before I left?

"Everything you can tell me."

I made- am making an emotional decision now. Does that make it wrong?

"You're going to have to be more specific than that."

If it interferes with mission it does.

What is mission objective?

Get back to the UNSC.

How would helping these people interfere?

Time.

They know a lot more about the current situation. If I can help them out along the way, shouldn't I?

Will that help accomplish my objective?

Will not doing it get me back to the UNSC any faster?

"Hello?" Alexandra interrupted my internal argument, again wearing her annoyed expression from the storefront.

… Maybe helping them will turn out to be a dead end, but I'll take my chances.

"We need to get somewhere more secure. You said something about a town you were heading to? Sanctuary somewhere to the northwest."

Her eyes widened a fraction before she spoke. "Yeah."

"How defensible is it?"

"I haven't been there, but I know it's a small town between a river and a mountainside. As far as anyone here knows it's been abandoned since the war."

Preston scoffed. "You just gonna tell anyone who comes by where we're going?"

Alexandra removed her arm from her son and rounded on him, "if you didn't notice, he just said he'd help us get there." The man stared at me from under the brim of his ridiculous looking hat. I couldn't tell if his disposition was genuine distrust, or pride. "It's a five mile walk, but I don't know if we can make it today."

My mission clock read 0630. Judging from the sun's position while I was outside, it was around 1600 with another 4 hours or so until the sun set. 9 klicks was a pretty short haul, but Alexandra has some form of injury to her right leg, you have the other two who were hurt, and the old woman. "If we stay here we risk being attacked again. It won't be as easy next time. This town is too large to scout effectively; they may get in."

"We can fight too, you know." Preston's voice was bordering on indignant. He gestured to the other people around the lobby. "We made it here across two weeks of hell, it isn't like you're the only one who knows how to use a gun."

Yeah, I've seen your handiwork. Even still… I cast my mind back to the groups of dead Raiders I'd seen on my way in; the job was sloppy, but he managed to take 10 of them on approach. The man had determined where his assailants were approaching from in a fairly large town, established a killzone, set up range markers and kept shooting while most likely while under fire. He was undisciplined, relatively inexperienced, and a little theatrical, but had kept a cool head while managing to get his people almost all the way to their objective.

I nodded to him. "That may be true, but it's better to avoid a fight."

The man glared at me a moment, clearly mulling over his options. Realistically, he only had one and he knew it; this was just stubborn pride.

It was the first man, Sturges, who spoke up. "If you really are going to help, then would you mind some input from the people you're helping?" I nodded. "We should stay here tonight. I know there's a risk of getting jumped by more raiders but we're all dead tired. We been on the run for the better part of 2 weeks and just got through another fight for our lives, thanks to you of course. We need a break." There was a murmur of agreement between the others assembled.

My number one priority in defense situations is to avoid conflict altogether. Battle is chaotic and random; I call bullshit on anyone who says they've planned for everything because that simply wasn't possible. What if a lucky shot tags someone through one of the already collapsing walls? Explosives could be used to bring the structure down and countless other threats. If the goal is to keep everyone here alive, which I assume it is, there were way too many unknowns staying here. On the other hand, you run just as many risks without a static position with inexperienced people: snipers, the elements, a careless step.

What the hell am I thinking with this? Working with a group of civilians I don't know to defend a collapsing building in the middle of a destroyed town in a world consumed by some sort of nuclear war. Have I been in a situation this bad before?

Oh well. I'm here now. I'll make this work.

Staying here had plenty of drawbacks, but looking around the room at these people's haggard faces, it was probably more dangerous to risk huffing it with so few hours left in the day.

"If we're going to stay here tonight we need to make preparations." I looked at Preston. "Do you have any explosives?"

"Doesn't sound much like helping. You in charge of things now?"

"It gives you the best chance to survive."

He grimaced. "Which I assume means you're placing-"

"Dammit Preston." Alexandra sounded exasperated. I sent her a silent 'thank you'; my patience only stretches so far. "No, we don't have any."

It's possible the Raiders may have some, I can go out and scavenge while the group in here seals the other entrances.

"What about weapons?"

Preston sighed. "My Laser Musket, a Pipe Rifle and a few Pipe Pistols is all."

Laser Musket? Pipe Rifle? What are these people working with?

"Does each person who can fight have one?"

"Yes."

"What about wounded?"

"We have them on the top floor at the rear of the museum. Hardest place to get to."

I gave another nod. "There are three ground floor entrances besides the main one here, they're secured from the outside but they'll need reinforcement." I turned to Preston. "Can you provide overwatch from the roof?" I would probably still notice anything before he did, but I needed him placated and cooperative for the time being.

"Yeah… I got it."

I nodded again. "Everyone back here in 10." The group dispersed to begin searching for objects we can use to reinforce this impromptu fortress. While they did I walked to Preston. The smaller man looked up at me; he was still put off, but as long as he followed orders, we wouldn't have a problem. "What is your effective range with that?" I motioned to the rifle in his hands.

"My longest shot is 400 yards." He didn't do a very good job of making that not sound like a boast.

Explaining that 'longest shot' and 'effective range' were two different things wouldn't get me anywhere; besides the farthest he'd need to shoot was half that. "Cover everything past the third cross street." I didn't have confidence in him recognizing potential ambushes, snipers, or really any well hidden enemy, but at least if something did happen, diversionary fire would give me time to get to cover.

"Got it." He departed for the roof and I exchanged the almost empty mag before slipping back out into the body-strewn avenue. Once I'd cleared the immediate area, I checked the bodies I'd left next to the door. They were both wearing cobbled together satchels filled with some form of dispensers, syringes, and limited ammo that seemed to be the same caliber as the homemade looking handguns. Pipe pistols? I stowed the weapons in the bags, looped both satchels over my neck and moved out into the street.

Each raider I'd killed there told a similar story: dispeners (many empty) basic firearms and ammo. A few had the same handgun I'd scavenged on the interrogator, one had a bolt action rifle with old school wood furniture, but at least it looked like it was purpose built for the job, not some thrown together mess. Only 15 rounds though. The last assailant I scavenged was the man at the back wielding the RPG launcher. No… this thing is a genuine recoilless gun and the Raider's bag had 5 cartridges among the other contents.

I'm not wasting these on wiring the doors.

With the supplies secure, I double timed back to the museum. Still had 5 minutes to spare when I made it to the lobby, so I began emptying the satchels' contents onto the ground. 3 actual handguns, the bolt action rifle, recoilless gun, along with 12 Pipe Pistols, and one Pipe Rifle. Then there was the assorted munitions and dispenser. Drugs? That would make sense for the syringes.

Footsteps preceded my overwatch's presence at the top of the stairs. "Holy shit." Preston stared as he descended to the ground floor. "That's one serious haul. Those chems though- we need to keep them away from Mama Murphy."

I looked from him back to the neatly laid out rows of equipment. So the dispensers are drugs then. Anything that could help my arm heal? No, probably best not to use any foreign substances until I know exactly what I'm dealing with. "Will any of these help your injured?"

The Minuteman stalked over and knelt next to the supplies, though he was careful to keep his distance from me. "The Med-X and Stimpaks." He retrieved two different syringes. "They will help heal damaged tissue, grow new tissue if necessary, and numb the pain. These aren't cure alls though; they still require proper medical treatment for them to be successful."

Really… those might be helpful after all. He hadn't touched several other types of dispensers, but I could hear the others returning; it would have to wait.

Julian, Alexandra's son, and Sturges were the first to return, struggling under the weight of a large display case. They were closely followed by the two other men who had been in the lobby carrying another. It might be enough to reinforce one door, but how the hell had it taken them ten minutes to get those?

"Were you able to find anything else?"

Sturges nodded. "Yeah, and Jun is at the rear entrance using some furniture to barricade it with Mama Murphy. Any explosives?"

I motioned to the launcher. "Yes, but none I'm going to rig the doors with."

Sturges stared at the weapon, face a mixture of unease and amusement. "They really want us dead."

My good shoulder shrugged, almost on their own. "You get used to it." I grabbed three more magazines for my sidearm and clamped the recoilless gun to the mag strip on my back, cartridges in a pouch. "Who is the best shot?"

Julian raised his hand. "Besides Mr. Garvey, I am." Probably referring to Preston.

I cocked my helmet at the teenager. A little young, but I guess I didn't have much room to talk. Things were beginning to come back; I'm pretty sure I killed my first Sangheili when I was 12.

He got the bolt action rifle. "Don't fire unless I say." The rest got the reminder of the armaments if they were an improvement. I left that for them to decide; all of it looked equally worthless besides the real pistols. Preston gathered the chems into one satchel and shouldered it.

Reinforcing the doors with the objects they had found took another 10 minutes and another half hour to fashion stretchers to carry the wounded on. Once they were prepared to move in the morning, all that was left to do was wait. I considered offering to help their injured, but it was clear from the occasional glance and careful distance these people gave, they didn't trust me.

Fair enough.

After they were finished I decided it was time to get some answers. I approached Preston, who was talking with one of the wounded, a middle aged man with a gunshot wound to the gut. He had pale skin, sweat profusely, and trembled like a leaf in the wind. I didn't need to smell it to know the round had torn through his intestines. The wound had become septic almost immediately.

"I'd like to talk."

He looked from the dying man to me. "About?"

"Our situation." My situation, but all the same.

He gave a tired nod and pat the man's shoulder. "I'll be back in a little while." The Minuteman stood and followed me back to the lobby where Alexandra, Julian, and Sturges were organizing the extra supplies into satchels.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs while he sat on the landing. "So what do you want to know about?"

Do you know who the UNCS are? The Covenant? Do you know about the war? Is there anywhere with good comms? How can I get in touch with the Brotherhood of Steel? The Enclave? Anyone who might have the resources to help me? I knew the answers to all of those questions were either 'no' or 'I don't know'. Let's start simple then?

"What year is it?"

"2287."

That was almost 300 years in the past. Or- what would be the past.

"And this War happened 200 years ago?"

"A little more." He frowned. "2076. You know, all of these are things most people know. You clearly aren't the average wastelander, and with armor like that I can't help but wonder what other technology you might have. How do you not know this stuff already?"

Under normal circumstances, I would have access to a lot more. At the moment though, this is all I have. "I'm not from around here."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

I shook my head slowly. "I can't."

Preston huffed. "So you're expecting me to answer your questions with none in return."
"You're alive."

His eyes focused on my faceplate, more than a little distrust his face, but after a moment he relented with a sigh. "What else did you want to know?"

"Who would know where I can find the Brotherhood of Steel?"

He glared at me, suspicious. "You said you don't know who they are earlier right? I'm not buying that, not with your armor."

"They have access to advanced technology?"

"I mean… yeah, but they don't share it with anyone. They're a militant group of brutes with power armor and laser weapons who take anything they think doesn't belong in the hands of us 'civilians'."

Considering what I just saw, keeping heavy weaponry under lock and key seems like a good idea. Civilians with weapons is usually a bad thing.

"Militant? Military? Are they what's left of it?"

Another moment of silence spread itself over our conversation. Sturges and Alexandra had stopped packing supplies to watch.

"What part of the military are you with? I don't like that you want to track the Brotherhood down, or how you seem like you're okay with what they do."

"I'm not. And I'm not going to get involved with whatever fight you have with them."

"Why do you want to know where they are then?"

"They might be able to help me."

"With?"

Irritation began bubbling at the back of my head. What did I expect? Him to answer me without question? … I didn't work with non-military personnel enough for this. "To get back to my people."

"Let me guess: you can't tell me who that is."

You're getting good at this. "Correct. Are they what's left of the military?"

Preston's irritation broke the surface. "I don't know. Probably. You know this is bullshit right? Your show up out of nowhere, decide you're going to put yourself in charge of a group when you don't know anything about what's going on, and then start asking questions like we owe you answers."

I watched him as his voice got louder with each passing word. The emotion wasn't out of line, but the response was. This argument wasn't going to go anywhere though. "I agreed to help Alexandra if I got answers; my part of that deal is finished."

"And you're still acting like you're in charge here."

"I can leave you to transport your wounded across hostile ground and set up a defensible position. I'm sure I can find other sources of information."

He stood and stalked down the stairs. "You're going to keep holding that over our heads too, huh? What, next you're going to threaten to kill us if you don't get our cooperation?"

I don't kill civilians. "No, like I said: next I leave." Wouldn't that be the same as killing them?

"Can we stop this back and forth?" Alexandra's voice had an edge I hadn't heard before. "I'm not gonna bullshit you soldier boy; your massacre out there freaked us out. It doesn't help we don't know anything about you. Preston is being a hard headed jackass, but it isn't without reason."

My gaze drifted down to her. They've asked multiple times. Am I just being stubborn? Does refraining from giving them basic information benefit me here? Working with an unknown party was difficult enough, but giving them intel could work against me on top of everything.

What are they going to do with any of it? I doubt they're stupid enough to start anything even if they know I'm up shit creek. What harm would there be in telling them something simple? If I'm going to help them… it doesn't make sense to at least make them comfortable- or at least as comfortable as someone can be around a SPARTAN I guess.

"I'm UNSC Naval Lieutenant Damon Spartan-G052."

Alexandra didn't respond immediately, but stared up into my faceplate as she processed my rank and name. "So you're military then. No military I've ever heard of. And what kind of last name is 'Spartan-G052'?"

I shook my head. "It's a designation."

"For?"

"I can't say anything else."

A frown spread across her face. "You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."

While I may not remember everything yet, I do remember the SPARTAN program, at least in part. I also remember what I did for it was classified.

"It isn't my choice." Even if it was- a lot of that is personal.

She pursed her lips. "So what can you tell us?"

"When I say I'm not from around here, I don't mean I'm from a different area; I don't think I'm from this reality." Oh… that sounded a lot less crazy in my head. The others looked confused; they didn't know what I meant.

Except for Sturges. "You aren't from this reality- we talking the Multiverse Theory?"

Multiverse Theory? I looked over the smaller man. He looked like a technician of some sort, but they probably didn't have trained engineers, technicians or much other skilled labor. Maybe if one was going to pursue the field they would have to do all of it themselves. "I don't know. The year for me is… 2557 and humanity didn't blow itself to hell in my past."

"Almost three hundred years ahead huh?" Sturges' brow furrowed. "Time travel ain't the answer here so it's gotta be Multiverse. You remember anything?"

"Waking up."

"That ain't very helpful."

I shrugged, there was nothing else to say; I was still trying to sort out my own head.

Everyone else looked bewildered. Sturges noticed too. "Can y'all give us some time to sort this out?"

Preston glanced from the other man to me. "You gonna be alright alone with him?"

Without looking back at him, Sturges replied, "as alright as I would be with you." He waved the other man off. "We've got a lot to talk about."

They needed to be on watch anyway, not down here having a conference. "Julian take someone else with you to the third floor, each of you take approaches on opposite sides of the building. Preston, you're on the roof with primary overwatch." The teenager looked from me to Preston who was staring me down. I squared up to the dark skinned man. Intimidation wasn't going to be effective here; standing a head taller than most men put people off, then there's what they'd seen me do to the Raiders. Sure, they were scared of me, but they were firmly on the 'fight' side of the 'fight or flight' spectrum.

"We need advanced warning; the roof is the best vantage point."

"I know that", he snapped.

"Then what's the problem?"

"You giving orders. Your story doesn't make sense; I have no reason to trust you."

My irritation peaked again. No, my story doesn't make sense but I just saved your ass, brought you the equipment those men had, agreed to get you and your people to safety and now I'm cooperating with your request for information in return.

"I'm not here to negotiate tactics. You need my help."

Sturges did his best to insert himself between the two of us. "Enough Preston. Let's just be cooperative and get to Sanctuary tomorrow; we can decide what to do from there." His voice wavered ever so slightly.

Silence fell over the lobby once again. I could feel all four sets of eyes drilling into me, their adrenaline, distrust, and fear clogged the air. What would I do if he remained stubborn and refused to cooperate? Leave? Probably the best solution, but it really would be like I was pulling the trigger myself. And that's my fault? It wouldn't come to that though; Alexandra and Sturges, at least, were smart enough. As it turns out, so was Preston. A few seconds later, the Minuteman's gaze fell and he shouldered the Laser Musket. Without another word he began climbing the stairs, followed by Julian and, with a glance back, Alexandra.

"What would you have done if he'd said no?"

I turned back to Sturges. "Left."

"Over a disagreement? Seems kinda flaky."

"I have more reason to distrust you than you do me. The decision to help you in the first place wasn't an easy one."

The question was plain as day on his face. 'More reason?' Trust and security aren't the same thing. He thought a moment before shrugging. "Maybe we can build some trust with a little heart to heart. I'm keen on what you can tell me."

I watched as he walked back to the collection of supplies and started placing them back in satchels. "What are you?"

A smile spread across Sturges' face. "I like to call myself a handyman but I dabble in just about anything mechanical. Like to read, try to get my hands on as many technical papers as I can. Some of them involved physics." He looked back at me. "MIT used to be one of the biggest tech schools around before The War."

There it is again, 'The War'. Unfortunately it didn't have anything to do with getting back to the UNSC. "And that means you know about Multiverse Theory?"

"Yeah, a little." The handyman shrugged. "It spawned from different theories back in the early 21st century, mainly tied to String Theory."

"How would that explain this?"

"Well… to give a summary that would probably offend a lot of the people who worked on the theory, there are four different levels to it; one of them is based on the uncertainty principles found in Quantum Mechanics. See, it's proposed that for every possible outcome to a situation, a split universe is created for that outcome. You flip a coin? A split universe is gonna be made for each heads and tails."

"Any idea how I'd get here?"

"There are some theories about how wormholes or black hole/white hole combinations could do something like tunnel between universes, but that isn't anything I'm well versed on. I brought some of my stuff I can look through, but if we're going to get info we can use it's gonna have to be from MIT."

My gaze wandered around the dilapidated interior of the museum while he spoke. "A lot would have to change to get here…"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure about that one big guy. You might be surprised. But hey I can't say much, your people were at least smart enough to not roast themselves over a nuclear pit."

… Dammit. "What happened?"

"The War?" The smaller man paused to study me, something running through his mind. "Tell you what, I give you the low down on our world if you give me one for yours."

I cocked my head. It isn't like the Covenant War or Humanity's general status is confidential information. "Within reason."

"Alright, sounds like story time to me."