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The DeLorean skidded to a halt. It took rather longer than expected.

"Don't worry, Marty," said Doc Brown, "no roads, remember? Lots of mud to be expected. Hopefully no one saw..." he looked out as he opened his door. "Well, damn!"

"What now, Doc?"

Marty's reaction, at an earlier time, could have been eager, anxious. Heck, he would have been ready to bail out with his future hoverboard!

After some time with Doctor Emmett Brown, however, he seemed more likely to just smack his head and sigh.

It never lessened the danger, or whatever else that followed. It just seemed to be a good response in any case.

"We seem to have a visitor." Doc Brown let himself easily back into his seat, as a musket barrel followed him back into the car, following his chest with precision.

"So tell me, young sir," said Doc, in a strange accent, " to which regiment do you belong?"

"No regiment save one, sir," spat the tired young man. "And I report.. in a minute, sir." The muzzle dug a little deeper into Doc Brown's ribs.

Marty clutched the steering wheel a bit harder, and took a shaky breath.

"This is heavy."