“Well, he moved, didn’t he,” the Boss spat. “And now he’s . . .” 

Dr. Yang stared at the floor, waiting for it to open. “Well?,” the Boss said loudly. “Aren’t you going to answer me? And now he’s . . . where, Dr. Yang?” 

“Oh, yes.” Dr. Yang ran over to the transport board. “It appears three of the team members arrived successfully in 1986. However, I cannot confirm that Chief arrived to the time where the Ching is located. It appears the program was not able to calculate the transport.” 

* * * * * 

THUMP! Chief landed in the middle of the street, just around the corner from the Ridgewood train station. A second later, Joe landed on top of him. 

“AGH! Get off me,” Chief mumbled, his face pressed into the cement. 

“Where are we?” Joe said, looking around. “Any good food around here? I’m starving!” 

“Are you going to get off me at some point?” Chief groaned. 

Joe looked down. “Oh right, Chief!” He hopped up and gave Chief a hand. “Where’s the rest of the team anyway?” 

Chief dusted off his suit. A small crowd had gathered in front of the station and were staring at them. And for good reason. Two Chinese men in black suits, one short and stocky wearing sunglasses, the other tremendously tall and skinny, looked very out of place in 1970s Ridgewood, New Jersey. 

Chief sized up the crowed. “Joe, we need to get out of here. I’m pretty sure we’re on our own, the others won’t be joining us.”

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