Chapter Text
The weird beam hit him mid-headshot.
One second, the Bounty Hunter was squeezing the trigger on Gus, lining up the skull of a G3 Remnant human trafficker who thought hiding behind a pile of terrified civilians was clever. The next second, reality hiccupped like it had swallowed a grenade.
There was a blinding flash. A crackling sound like a cosmic microwave dying in agony. Then he was no longer in the abandoned smuggling warehouse on Blim City.
He was in… another abandoned warehouse.
"Uh," Gus muttered, blinking his googly eyes. "Okay. I'm not loving the déjà vu here. Same vibe. Different stench."
The Bounty Hunter lowered Gus slowly.
Then he noticed that the room was full of swastikas.
And cocaine.
Actual bricks of cocaine.
"Wow," Sweezy said flatly. "Nazis and drug dealers? What is this, a 'Worst People in the Galaxy' convention?"
Creatures babies made a soft, concerned chirp.
Knifey, hanging at his hip, vibrated eagerly. "Ohhh I wanna stab someone already! Please tell me we're stabbing someone!"
Across the warehouse, a group of bald men in paramilitary gear froze mid-transaction. One of them was holding a duffel bag. Another had a Nazi tattoo. Several had guns.
They stared at the armored stranger who had just appeared in a burst of light.
The Bounty Hunter stared back.
He had no idea where he was.
But he knew assholes when he saw them.
And these guys were assholes.
One of the men lifted his rifle. "Hey! This is Empire Turf! Who the fuck are you-"
The Bounty Hunter fired.
Gus roared, his shots detonating with explosive force. The first Nazi's chest burst like a water balloon filled with water. Two more dove for cover behind crates of drugs.
"OH SHIT," Gus shouted. "We're doing this? Okay! Love it! Love the energy!"
The Bounty Hunter slid behind a metal pillar as bullets tore through the air. He felt strangely calm. Confused? Sure. Teleported by a mystery beam? Annoying. But Nazis?
Nazis were universally kill on sight as were most space nazis. He killed his share of them since becoming a Bounty Hunter.
Sweezy cackled as he swapped weapons. Purple plasma bolts shredded through cover and men alike.
"Get fucked, you meth-peddling fascist cosplayers!"
One of the dealers screamed as Creature's offspring latched onto his face, clawing at his face in a messy spray of red.
The Bounty Hunter felt the familiar thrill settle into his bones. The edge. The hum. The part of him that liked this a little too much.
Okay. Weird dimension. Probably kidnapped. Could still be a trap. Still worth it.
He jet-dashed forward, grabbing a man by the collar and slamming him into a stack of drug bricks. Knifey was in his hand a second later.
"Ohhhh yes!" Knifey shrieked as he plunged into the man's throat. "I LOVE A GOOD FUCKIN' TRACTION!"
Blood sprayed. The man gurgled.
The Bounty Hunter ripped Knifey free and hurled him into another attacker's skull.
"STICKED THE LANDING!" Knifey yelled as he embedded with a wet thunk.
Bullets chewed through the air. One clipped the Bounty Hunter's shoulder plating. He barely felt it.
Okay, so ballistic weapons. Pre Invasion-level tech. No visible augments. Probably not space nazis.
He vaulted over a crate, landed in a roll, and came up firing. Gus' shots tore through two men in a line.
One remaining dealer bolted for the back door.
"Aw, don't run!" Creature whined, launching a baby that scuttled after him.
The explosion echoed from the hallway.
Silence settled over the warehouse, broken only by dripping blood and the faint hum of fluorescent lights.
The Bounty Hunter stood in the carnage, chest rising steadily.
Nazis and drug traffickers.
Two birds. One massacre.
He wiped blood from his visor.
Okay. Now where the fuck am I?
"Not to be dramatic," Gus said, "but that beam thing? That didn't feel G3. That felt…cosmic."
Sweezy snorted. "Yeah, like 'Congratulations, you've unlocked DLC Wolfestein Earth.'"
The Bounty Hunter nodded as he walked toward the shattered loading door and nudged it open.
Outside he was blinded by red and blue lights flashed.
Dozens of cops and armored personnel in black tactical gear aimed rifles at him. Some wore helmets with visors.
Behind them stood costumed weirdos.
Reminded him of his old comics.
One guy in full-body metal armor hovered slightly off the ground. Another woman was covered in guns and American flag which the Bounty Hunter found kinda problematic since she was clearly Middle Eastern.
Okay. Either Comic-Con got violent…or I'm in a weird ass comic world.
Gus chucked, "Uh…hey guys! The Nazis we killed didn't happen to have bounties on them too, did they?"
The Bounty Hunter slowly raised his hands.
The non police officer officer at the front shouted, "Unidentified parahuman! Power down and surrender immediately!"
Parahuman.
He'd read enough comics to know that confirmed his theory.
"Wait," Sweezy muttered. "This is like…actual superhero shit."
The armored cape stepped forward. "You are in violation of-"
The Bounty Hunter hit his jetpack.
He blasted upward in a roar of fire and smoke.
"OH SHIT, HE'S FLYING!" someone yelled below.
Bullets and energy blasts streaked past him as he arced over the building. He zigzagged between power lines and slammed onto a nearby rooftop.
Alarms wailed below.
He crouched low, scanning the city skyline.
No floating alien billboards. No alien architecture from rebuilding post invasion.
Just grimy urban sprawl.
Brick buildings. Smoke stacks. A giant neon sign reading Brockton Bay Savings & Loan in the distance.
Brockton Bay?
His brain rifled through comic knowledge.
That's not DC. Not Marvel. Maybe Image?
"Oh my God," Gus breathed. "What if we are in, like, some edgy deconstruction universe?"
"Yeah," Sweezy said. "Feels very 'everyone dies and hope is illegal.'"
The Bounty Hunter tapped his helmet communicator.
"Gene? Lizzy? You guys there?"
Static.
He adjusted frequencies.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Knifey's voice was uncharacteristically quiet. "Uh…buddy? I don't think we're in Kansas. Or space Kansas."
The Bounty Hunter scanned the streets. In the distance, he saw a girl in a black costume swinging across rooftops on what he could describe as Batman timing. She was probably hunting him and if she was like Batman he would like to avoid her. Especially if she was like Arkham Batman...
"Superheroes" Gus whispered.
The Bounty Hunter straightened.
Okay. Superhero world. Parahumans. Government response team. Nazis. Drugs.
He looked down at his blood-splattered armor.
Yeah, I might have made an entrance.
He activated cloaking briefly and bounded across rooftops until the sirens faded.
Eventually, he landed in a quiet alley.
He leaned against the brick wall.
Beam while killing G3 traffickers. Teleported to cape world. Probably Earth. No alien tech visible. Language English. Dollars on signage.
He spotted a newspaper in a trash bin.
He grabbed it.
December 18, 2010
He froze.
"…Oh," Gus said slowly.
The Bounty Hunter stared at the date.
He did the math automatically.
He'd be…what? Twelve? Thirteen?
Definitely still in middle school.
Some awkward hopeful kid probably stressing over homework and whether he'd ever kiss anyone. He briefly wondered what his young self would think of his old slug girlfriend.
Regardless somewhere in this state or maybe another was a younger version of him.
Normal.
Ignorant.
"…That's weird," Sweezy muttered.
The Bounty Hunter folded the newspaper carefully.
Okay. Rule one: don't find kid-me. That's a paradox headache.
Rule two: survive.
Rule three: find a way home before Lizzy's wedding.
He imagined missing it.
Imagined Lizzy's face.
She would absolutely kill him.
He shuddered.
Okay, yeah. Gotta fix this.
But until then?
He looked back toward the distant smoke from the warehouse.
Well. Nazis exist here.
Knifey perked up. "Oh hell yes they do."
"And apparently they're called 'Empire' something," Gus added. "Sounds very on-the-nose evil."
The Bounty Hunter checked his HUD.
No bounty network connection.
No galactic database.
No warp beacon.
"Okay," Sweezy said. "So we're stranded in grimdark superhero Earth with zero backup."
The Bounty Hunter pushed off the wall.
Step one: don't look like an alien murder machine.
He glanced at his armor.
"…Yeah," Gus agreed. "We're not exactly blending in."
He scanned nearby shops.
Liquor store.
Pawn shop.
Clothing outlet.
He started walking.
Halfway down the block, his stomach growled.
He paused.
And there, glowing like a beacon of mediocre hope.
Applebee's.
The Bounty Hunter stared at it reverently.
"Are you kidding me?" Sweezy said. "We just got dimensionally displaced and you're thinking about chain restaurant appetizers?"
It's tradition, he thought defensively.
Gus sighed. "I mean…everyone loves Applebee's. Even if we prefer Space Applebee's."
Creature laughed. "Hell yeah we do! And I know I loved them even before I forgot my life!"
Knifey groaned. "Can we stab someone in there?"
No stabbing civilians.
"Ugh, fine."
The Bounty Hunter adjusted his cloak to minimal visibility and slipped inside.
The hostess blinked at him.
"…Costume party?"
He gave a silent thumbs-up.
She hesitated. "Right. Booth or-"
He held up one finger.
Booth.
He slid in.
The waitress approached cautiously. "What can I get you?"
He stared at the menu.
Okay. Earth food. Don't overthink it.
He pointed randomly.
"Classic burger and fries?"
Thumbs up.
"And to drink?"
He considered.
No weird alien drinks to pick.
He pointed at cola.
She nodded and left.
Gus whispered, "You know those superheroes are probably searching this area, right?"
Yeah.
Sweezy hummed. "You're weirdly calm."
I've been hunted by intergalactic cartels. I can handle mall cops with superpowers.
He leaned back in the booth.
Through the window, he saw capes moving across rooftops in the distance.
He watched them carefully.
Their costumes were rougher than the polished heroics of comics. Grittier. Functional.
He caught snippets of conversation from a nearby table.
"…Empire Eighty-Eight…"
"…ABB…"
"…Protectorate…"
His mind slotted pieces together.
Gang-controlled city. Government heroes. Independent villains. Moral gray everywhere.
He'd read enough edgy graphic novels to get the vibe.
"Into the Spider-Verse prepared you for this," Gus joked weakly.
Yeah. Except no soundtrack.
His burger arrived.
He ate.
Calm. Methodical. Grease and salt grounding him in a way cosmic nonsense couldn't.
After a few bites, he looked at his reflection in the window.
Alien armor.
Bloodstains.
Dimensional castaway.
Okay. Finish food. Find clothes. Go incognito. Gather intel. Maybe find tech genius. Kill weirdos trying to recruit me into their gang. Avoid mind readers. Avoid any Superman Expies. Don't start a forbidden romance with a superheroine and definitely dont get involved in any prophecy end of the world bullshit!
"…What was that last one?" Gus asked.
Gut feeling.
He finished the fries and stood.
Outside, sirens wailed again in the distance.
Knifey twitched eagerly. "So what's the plan, boss?"
The Bounty Hunter activated his jetpack lightly and rose to a nearby rooftop.
He looked out over Brockton Bay.
Corrupt city.
Nazis.
Drug traffickers.
People flying like gods.
And hopefully somewhere on this weird version of earth, a way to get home.
He cracked his knuckles.
Plan is simple.
Survive.
Do what we do best.
Find a way home.
And don't miss Lizzy's wedding.
Until then?
He checked the newspaper again.
"Empire Eighty-Eight suspected in violent drug exchange."
He smirked beneath his visor.
Guess I already crashed their party.
Knifey vibrated happily. "Round two? PLEASE LET ME STAB SOME MORE NAZIS"
The Bounty Hunter smirked as he ignited his jetpack again and soared into the night sky.
Honestly?
He'd dealt with worse situations.
And if this world insisted on stocking itself full of Nazis and drug-dealing assholes?
Well.
He might as well make enough money for a really nice wedding gift or a bribe for his own safety.