《Conspiracyland》 Chapter 1 - Gas Station Rumble The winds of the Nevada desert are known to be unforgiving. The lofty winds, usually promising a sweet relief from the heat, facilitates only hardship and pain. The sandkorns gracefully dance within the storms, scratching all that stands in their wake. In the middle of such a storm, in the middle of nowhere in particular, stood a toilet. Not just any toilet, but one ripped straight from a RV. Within sat a grumpy, near-middle aged man, scratching his already balding head in discomfort as he opened the door to find a new world stretching before him. But all he could think of, and all he could focus on, was the empty toilet paper roll beside him. That, and the takeout mexican he¡¯d ordered.
The howling winds of the desert carried on incessantly. He¡¯d been walking for miles and miles, following his emergency compass attached to his emergency watch, which was a part of his emergency kit attached to his emergency belt. There seemed to be no end to the vast plains of sand, and he¡¯d forgotten to refill his emergency water bottle before taking a very emergent shit. He¡¯d have to make a note of that in his emergency notepad, he thought, as he took yet another sip out of his backup emergency water bottle and a swig out of his emergency Smirnoff.
It¡¯d been nearing sunset when the man ended up near a stretch of highway. He sighed in relief, not because he¡¯d run out of supplies, but because the sand he¡¯d used instead of toilet paper was getting rather itchy. He had been in luck- a Cadillac was approaching. Already, he could smell the distant, faint odor of the average American idiot. Realizing this, he quickly took a final, long swig from his third Smirnoff flask, sighing as he realized that he¡¯d run out of stock. He then stretched his finger out for a hitchhike. As the Cadillac grew near, it began slowing down, heeding the call of the stranger. It stopped completely in front of the strange man, and the driver swung the door right open with a sickly sweet smile. The driver was predictably the most milquetoast man alive. He was exactly the kinda guy you¡¯d see at a senior¡¯s golf range with his working buddies, but he was a bit too young for that yet. Dressed in a posh, expensive outfit, he reeked of suburban America. ¡°Hello there, stranger! Would you like a ride?¡± The driver said, his all-too-happy demeanor accentuated by the ¡®Middle class starter pack¡¯ outfit. ¡°Thanks.¡± The man meekly replied, as he solemnly entered the idiot¡¯s car. ¡°My name¡¯s Watson. Connor Watson. What¡¯s yours?¡± The driver asked as he stepped on the gas- Jones noted that indeed, the man was wearing Crocs. ¡°Jones. Just Jones.¡± Jones answered, regretting that he hadn¡¯t stocked more alcohol. ¡°I have to say this was a pleasant surprise. What were you doing out here, anyways?¡± Watson smirked as he viewed Jones through the mirror. ¡°You know. The usual. Just taking a shit.¡± Jones answered, making sure to avoid any eye contact. ¡°Uh¡­ Toilet time, huh? Don¡¯t you think you could¡¯ve done that anywhere else?¡± Watson asked, his face slightly tilted in confusion. ¡°Wasn¡¯t really my choice. My RV¡¯s toilet got ripped from Minnesota to¡­ Here. Dunno what happened, but I¡¯ve got a good guess as to who it was.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°Who¡¯d that be? I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve got the Wizard of Oz here, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Watson said, as he let out a self-gratifying ¡®heh¡¯. ¡°The goddamn government, of course, who else could do this kinda wacky shit?¡± Jones exclaimed with a practiced, elegant delivery- it was quite obvious it was his signature line. ¡°The- government?¡± What makes you say that? They¡¯ve never done anyone wrong, I don¡¯t think.¡± Watson nervously smiled as he peeked through the mirror once more. This time, however, Jones was staring right back. His mouth was agape, already itching to argue. ¡°They¡¯ve obviously just done that. Think about it- it¡¯s obvious. When I got teleported, it was about 11:10. One plus one plus one plus zero equals to¡­ That¡¯s right, three. Triangle. Get the picture?¡± Jones stated with a firm, unflinching gaze. ¡°I¡¯ve got no clue what you¡¯re talking about, Jones. You¡¯re a really weird guy, you know?¡± Watson replied, staring straight ahead into the horizon. ¡°Plus, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ve realized I¡¯m an enemy by now. It can¡¯t be a coincidence that it¡¯d been nine months and eleven days since I¡¯ve uploaded my video regarding the irrefutable proof that chemtrails are making people gay. This can¡¯t be a coincidence.¡± Jones continued, unfazed by the mediocre response. ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about. What¡¯s a Chemtrail? What¡¯s nine months and eleven days got to do with anything?¡± Watson¡¯s face was now only describable as the ¡®I¡¯m stuck in a car with a crazy person¡¯ face. ¡°Seriously? You¡¯re American, right? How the hell do you not know 9/11? You live in some Amish village in Wyoming or something?¡± Jones asked, his eyebrows thoroughly ruffled and furred. ¡°I¡¯ve grown up in Portland, and I¡¯ve got no clue whatsoever. Is this how people are in Alaska? Is this nine-eleven an Alaskan thing?¡± Watson began wiping the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. ¡°You¡¯ve never heard of the greatest terrorist attack in all of American history, Watson? Have you heard of a newspaper, tv, or internet before?¡± Jones demanded, his mouth now agape. ¡°No, because we haven¡¯t had a single terrorist attack since 1960. In fact, we don¡¯t even really have crimes over here. Is this really not just a Alaskan thing?¡± Watson shook his head. ¡°The hell are you talking about? Every second week, we¡¯ve got a goddamn school shooting, and you¡¯re tellin¡¯ me that there¡¯s no crime in America?¡± Jones reclined into his chair as his blood pressure rose. ¡°We don¡¯t even make guns here! Jones, I¡¯m really sorry, but do you seriously take your mandated monthly mental health checkups?¡± Watson nervously fidgeted with his free hand, the other strongly gripping the wheel. ¡°The fuck? The govvies don¡¯t even shell out antidepressants and you¡¯re telling me that they¡¯re suddenly handing out free mental health checkups? Even worse, mandated? Where the fuck do you live?¡± Jones shouted in frustration. ¡°Please don¡¯t shout!¡± Watson sunk. ¡°I don¡¯t know if Alaska¡¯s any different, but at least in Oregon we are mandated to take monthly mental checkups and go visit therapeutic camps if we aren¡¯t feeling right. Man¡­ I¡¯d never thought those would be necessary, but seeing you¡­¡± ¡°¡®Therapeutic Camps¡¯? And that doesn¡¯t sound like off to you at all? Have you never even touched a dystopian novel like 1984 or Animal Farm?¡± Jones questioned, breathing heavily. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know what the 1984 is, but Animal Farm is illegal. You should go visit the mind clinic up in Washington if you¡¯ve even touched it...¡± Watson stammered, clearly debating if he should abandon this lunatic or not. ¡°You have to be kidding me.¡± Jones muttered in defeat. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, but would you at least consider having me drop you off at the psychologist¡¯s?¡± Watson asked, his voice shaking. ¡°Watson.¡± Jones said, clearly ignoring him. ¡°Y-yes?¡± Like a whipped dog, Watson replied. ¡°Tell me all of American history from roughly WW2 onwards. Just the cliffnotes.¡± Jones demanded in a monotone voice.
Jones¡¯s compact-sized notepad number three was getting rather full. The quivering Watson had been narrating the history of the USA- that is, the Unified State of America- from roughly 1958 onwards. Before that, it seemed that both Watson¡¯s memories and Jones¡¯s matched, but somewhere around that time, a figure and their party, the ¡®fictitious¡¯ (at least, by Jones¡¯s recollection) Drazil Clinton-Bush and the Unification party, had somehow managed to wrest control of the American government, unifying the states into one in 1960 and gracefully ¡°¡±¡±stepping down¡±¡±¡±. Of course, the fact that the Clinton-Bush family (not Clinton and Bush, Clinton-Bush) happened to produce all the presidents since then was completely coincidental. It was also completely coincidental that all voted senators happened to be pro-Unification party, and that the few non-Unification party member politicians all tended to ¡®change their minds¡¯, after a short disappearance into a black, untraceable van, after which they¡¯d grin profusely and talk about their ¡®revelations¡¯ after long ¡®self-reflection sessions¡¯. They¡¯d also turn up with a newfound fetish for BDSM, specifically the ¡®M¡¯ part, but that was just a side note. Since the Unification party was instated as the third party, it was said that they¡¯d made America Great Again. There were no flaws in this new, unified America. Boasting near-zero crime rates and a 100% conviction rate, crime had been solved. The healthcare was so good that 99% of people died of natural causes. It was just coincidence that the average age of natural death happened to lower to 45. Homelessness was essentially dead, too, except if one were to count the ¡®voluntary¡¯ homeless of America. Education was so good, that according to the US government, they¡¯d beaten Asia in math. Now that was indisputably suspect, but people didn¡¯t question it. Jones naturally had a tough time wrapping his head around this. If any of this were true- indeed, if Watson wasn¡¯t fucking with him, he could be in an alternate universe. But how? Was this some kind of shitty japanese cartoon where the protagonist gets hit by a truck? Would he get a harem full of horny, totally-legal hot babes who¡¯d want his babies like, right now? If that were to be the case, he¡¯d hoped that Watson wasn¡¯t one of them. He wouldn¡¯t look good in a skirt. ¡°So, explain this part to me again-¡± Jones asked. ¡°The first president, and the founder of the Unification party, her name was Drazil Clinton-Bush?¡± ¡°Yes. What about them?¡± Watson asked dejectedly. He¡¯d been tired out by all these questions. ¡°Well, flip the first name around. Lizard Clinton-Bush. It¡¯s quite obvious.¡± Jones pointed out quietly. ¡°Yes, yes. I get it. Why does that matter, though?¡± Watson tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in frustration. ¡°Because this means there could be some connection to lizards, Watson. Maybe, perhaps, they¡¯re even lizard-people?¡± Jones furiously scribbled in the newly unsealed emergency note number 4. ¡°I don¡¯t see your point.¡± Watson sighed. ¡°You¡¯re really not getting this. It¡¯s always the lizards, I tell you-¡± Jones replied, but the fuel light started blinking and an alarm went off. ¡°Are we running out of fuel?¡± ¡°Guess we are. Thank god there¡¯s a gas station right there.¡± Watson mentioned absentmindedly. In the distance was a structure that looked as well-aged as Jones¡¯s elementary school crush. The building, clearly having resembled a gas station at some point , was badly maintained. The bright, ¡®retro-futuristic¡¯ red color was faded to absolute nothingness, with exception to the few finger-sized spots of paint that hadn¡¯t been rusted through. The only exception was the surprisingly new ¡®open¡¯ neon sign that signalled something living was likely inside. ¡°Wait. Watson, look at this. Does this look normal to you?¡± Jones asked, waving a fiver in front of Watson. Watson took the bill, stared at it for a while, and replied with a quick nod. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. With a grumble, Jones watched as Watson slowly drove his car inside. Something was a bit fishy about this gas station, he thought. Who would want to work dozens of kilometers away from civilization in a place most people won¡¯t even stop at? In fact, the gas station looked like a dirty, quick refurbish. Not to mention the solar panels lined atop the station roof. But nonetheless, his asshole was still very itchy, and neither the culture shock, nor the alcohol could stave off that animalistic instinct to have a clean poop chute. Thus, he hurriedly stepped out of the car, much to the delight of the now mentally damaged Watson. Jones¡¯s eagle eyes sharpened in focus in search of a toilet, which his supplement-enhanced eyes quickly found. He slumbered towards the sign, which pointed to the back of the station. Watson was rather shook, and he began filling the tank with gasoline. He hummed the national anthem of the USA to relax. This encounter was really not doing his stress level any favors; the only thing he wanted, at this point, was to be rid of Jones, an option he considered while staring at Jones walking towards the toilet. But alas, an important part of the American identity was to help fellow Americans in need, and he couldn¡¯t abandon an obviously insane person to roam free. His grandfather would never approve of that. Sighing loudly, he then walked towards the in-station store, grabbing his wallet from the glovebox in preparation. He noticed a loose five-dollar bill inside his driver¡¯s seat, and picked it up. Jones found himself betrayed by the prospect of minty-fresh, kleenex-white, top-tier toilet paper. The gas station toilet paper was practically just sandpaper; it¡¯d hurt just rubbing the thing against his asscheeks. Yet another reason why the government was indeed failing him: lacking health care standards within gas station toilets. He pulled out his trusty pen and notebook and noted it down as he left the toilet. He¡¯d had half a mind to walk up to the cashier and bitch. If he was lucky, maybe he¡¯d get some free mints or something. He noticed a compact-size generator standing close by. Watson entered the gas station, welcomed by the generic state-mandated welcome jingle. The insides fared a bit better, where it seemed that refurbishment had actually taken place. Absentmindedly, he walked towards the cashier, grabbing himself a Milky Way bar in the process. Noticing the tab mounted up to thirty three dollars, he pulled out a bill for fifty and handed it over, alongside the five dollar bill. ¡°Hello. Please put the gasoline tab on the fifty, and take the fiver for the Milky Way, please.¡± Watson mumbled, still deep in thought. The cashier was dressed in what could be called the generic Wal-Mart garb with his name pinned on the chest. Physically, he was the very definition of normal. Average caucasian teenage kid was just right. But it fit a little too tight, as if the most generic face possible had been created. Watson paid such details no heed. After all, all gas station workers looked exactly like him. Just like all the same-looking nurse Joyces or policewomen Jennys. ¡°Thank you very much. That is what I will do. Please wait a moment.¡± The boy replied slowly. Watson whistled leisurely for a minute, observing the desert dunes outside. Suddenly, Jones veered into view, and Watson¡¯s eyes smoothly slid and snapped right on target, watching the insane man fumble along, furiously noting something down. Jones¡¯s head turned towards him and simply¡­ stared. Watson waved, thinking nothing of this odd reaction. What Jones saw was something quite different. The boy¡¯s eyes were glowing like a barcode scanner. It was staring intently at the five-dollar bill, studying it with absolute prejudice. Jones¡¯s jaw slacked. The boy¡¯s gaze was very intense, as if trying to burn a hole into the bill. Which it ended up doing, setting the note on fire. Stupidly, Watson was just staring like an idiot and waving. Watson watched as Jones performed some frantic, odd gestures with his hands and arms. Watson felt a twinge of guilt at the tragic sight of an impaired man. He was shouting something, pointing at something towards Watson¡¯s left, whilst running frantically towards the station door. That was when Watson finally turned to face the music. Jones rushed head-first into the automatic door. Yet another complaint for the national health agency. But as the doors slid open, the panicking Watson crashed head-first into him in an effort to escape and knocked him to the ground. While preparing to reprimand Watson, his vision adjusted. The boy was rapidly changing, his outline expanding and grotesquely deforming. His dull eyes quickly took on the intimidating look of a lizard¡¯s slit eyes, beaming with a bright red of malintent, staring down at the duo- its prey. Watson and Jones did not hesitate when it came to running. By the time they reached the car, the monster had stopped transforming; and finally, Jones got a good look at the not-so-boy-anymore. His skin was a glistening green, with exception to its limbs, which were mercury-like, shimmering metallic constructs. Indeed, Jones was staring right at the Bigfoot of his field of study- the Mecha-Lizardperson. Jones nearly grinned, ready to gloat about being right all along, but didn¡¯t have the time to. The Mechalizard decided to prove that the ¡®retro-futuristic¡¯ chrome steel wasn¡¯t just a hipster fashion choice, but it could mold like mercury and strike like steel. It sharpened into a spear and burrowed itself right through the front glass panel, the tip burrowing itself into the headrest of the passenger¡¯s seat. ¡°Holy fucking shit!¡± Jones shouted, as shards of glass began scattering everywhere. He¡¯d grabbed Watson by the collar and dragged him down, just under the point of impact. Jones quickly backed up the car, performed a drift, and dashed through the gas station exit. The Mechalizard followed suit quickly. It transformed its legs into a set of large wheels, and began pursuing the Cadillac. While it quickly caught up, it failed to overtake the bruised car. ¡°We¡¯re going to die. We¡¯re so going to die¡­¡± Watson kept muttering, his eyes clearly out of focus. Jones quickly remedied that, however, as he backhand-pimpslapped Watson in the right cheek with a satisfying clap. ¡°Ow!¡± Watson protested, now staring into Jones¡¯s eyes, more in tune with reality. ¡°Watson, listen. We¡¯re both gonna have to focus if we want to live through this one.¡± Jones explained in a calm demeanor. He poked his head out to confirm the enemy¡¯s position, just in time to see a change in his adversary- the Mechalizard¡¯s eyes were no longer glowing red, but now green. ¡°ATTENTION, CITIZENS!¡± The Mechalizard then proudly exclaimed. ¡°THIS IS HOMELAND SECURITY. THIS SURVEILLANCE UNIT HAS CONFIRMED THE USE AND POSSESSION OF COUNTERFEIT BILLS PRODUCED WITH THE WATERMARK OF THE U.S.A. WE GIVE YOU THREE MINUTES TO SURRENDER PEACEFULLY. NON-COMPLIANCE MAY RESULT IN UNJUST AMOUNTS OF VIOLENCE BEING APPLIED. SURRENDER NOW. ANY HOSTILE ACTION UNDERTAKEN OR ATTEMPT AT FLEEING WILL YIELD THE SAME RESULT.¡± ¡°Did you try to use the five-dollar bill I gave you?¡± Jones asked in disbelief. ¡°I¡­ I thought it was just a fiver. It looked exactly the same!¡± Watson replied, his fists clenched tightly. ¡°A-ha.¡± Jones muttered. ¡°So, you used my bill. Which isn¡¯t from this world, so it probably has a slightly different registration number or manufacturing process.¡± ¡°So- you- you weren¡¯t just¡­ You know, crazy when you said that was possible? What did you call it, the Berenstein-something?¡± Watson stumbled over his words. ¡°Berenstein theory. Probably not, but something similar.¡± Jones said silently, mostly to himself. ¡°But that¡¯s not important right now. We need to survive.¡± ¡°R-right.¡± Watson answered meekly. ¡°But what can we do? Shouldn¡¯t we just surrender?¡± ¡°Watson, apparently we¡¯ve done enough wrong to get attacked by Solid Lizard Schwarzenegger. What do you think this is, a vietnamese massage parlor? We¡¯re not getting a happy ending. Also, you finally see what I was talking about?¡± Jones exclaimed in frustration. ¡°It¡¯s- a bit much to take in. I get something¡¯s not right here, but would they really¡­ Kill us?¡± Watson asked, putting emphasis on the final two words. ¡°It. stabbed. through. your. windshield. It was probably going for you, you know.¡± Jones replied, trying his hardest to withhold his sarcasm. ¡°I guess you have a point¡­ But then, what do we do?¡± Watson said, his eyes tearing up in the realization that he was, as his grandfather often said, in deep bollocks. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea. It¡¯s not a good one, but¡­¡± Jones stated, before being interrupted. ¡°TWO MINUTES.¡± The Mechalizard shouted. ¡°... We don¡¯t have much time, so hear me out...¡± Jones murmured, signing Watson closer to him.
The Mechalizard had been chasing its prey for a total of two minutes and fifty-two seconds. The controller had been watching the two lazily while munching on a bagel. Both seemed like regular citizens, but this surveillance unit had been an older model, and identification would have to occur post-arrest. Of course, if the two wouldn¡¯t surrender within the next four seconds, they wouldn¡¯t require identification. Suddenly, from the passenger¡¯s seat, one of the two poked their heads out. The human looked absolutely terrified, as it should be. Had they come to the right decision? The operator grabbed the microphone, ready to explain the terms of surrender, when the car suddenly veered to the side, facing him. At the same moment, the human threw a long, thin glittering sheet, a large makeshift hook taped to the shorter edge. The car then proceeded to perform a very difficult circular drift, some disco remix blasting through the open windows. As the car spun and spun, more of the thin sheet wrapped itself around the Mechalizard. The operator was surprised, but scoffed at the pathetic gesture. He was about to give the surveillance unit the order to tear the flimsy foil to shreds. What it didn¡¯t expect was the sudden disconnect. The surveillance unit had gone offline.
¡°It stopped moving!¡± Watson shouted, his voice still quivering in fear. This was the moment Jones had been waiting for. He wouldn¡¯t ever leave his house without a roll of tinfoil. Jones then crashed his car into the torso of the beast, dragging him along for the ride. The music was thankfully cranked up to max, covering up Watson¡¯s screams of terror as he wet his pants anew. The cadillac dragged the Mechalizard along for the ride as it headed back towards the gas station. Jones pulled out the final item in his kit, a combat knife, and jammed it into the pedal. Suddenly, the Mechalizard started twitching again, his eyes now glowing in red again. Was that the automatic setting? Jones did not have much time to contemplate, however, as he grabbed Watson by the collar and jumped out of the car, his arm twisting in an uncomfortable angle, but landing otherwise unharmed. The car continued accelerating, the confused Lizard in tow. It soon crashed into the gas station, which exploded as the car barrelled through the fuel dispensers.
¡°My Cadillac!¡± Watson screamed, watching the Cadillac get consumed in the flames. ¡°Fuck, my arm¡¯s a bit twisted. Hey, Watson, mind twisting this back?¡± Jones asked, casually walking towards his heartbroken companion. ¡°My car! Jones, my sweet, sweet Cadillac!¡± Watson screamed, grasping desperately at Jones¡¯s jeans. ¡°You really mourning that thing? What, can¡¯t show up at your local golfers association?¡± Jones asked. ¡°Yes! Do you know how expensive that thing was?¡± Watson screamed, his eyes watering up. Jones sighed, then slapped Watson with his twisted arm, wielding it like a whip. ¡°Ow!¡± Watson whelped. ¡°What was that for?¡± ¡°For wasting our time. Watson, we¡¯ve got bigger things to worry about.¡± Jones stated. ¡°...Like what?¡± Watson asked, now looking up into Jones¡¯s eyes. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Jones smirked. ¡°We¡¯re going to topple the government, obviously. This is only the first step into breaking the conditioning; we¡¯re going to show these sons-of-bitches some good ol¡¯ American freedom.¡± ¡°And how¡¯re you going to do that?¡± Watson said, his jaws slacked in disbelief. ¡°Well, first¡­¡± Jones answered. ¡°We¡¯ve gotta get out of here."
The mechanical buzzing and beeping echoed throughout the darkened room. The heater was cranked up to the max, the suffocating heat of this room comparable to a sauna. Noticeable was the absence of most artificial lighting, only the monitors exerting a faint blue light. A figure sat in the middle of this room, its skin reflecting the pale blue shade emitted by the electronics surrounding it, as it sat on a comfortable velvet couch. An entity entered this room through a thick set of automatic doors, saluting immediately in the presence of its superior. This entity was clad in a neat soldier¡¯s uniform. Its superior, however, was luxuriating in a comfortable woolen robe. ¡°Status report. Now.¡± The superior slithered, its voice firm and angry. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The soldier replied snappily. ¡°We¡¯ve got quite an odd report from the ministry of public observation, sir. One of their older surveillance units was destroyed after attempting to arrest two humans.¡± ¡°What model? An MU-06 L-MONITOR?¡± The robed figure questioned. ¡°No. An MU-05 L-MONITOR, sir. Designation L4G-4NN.¡± The soldier answered. ¡°A local defeating one of these is quite something, but that¡¯s not the surprising part, sir.¡± ¡°I see. Then get to the point, will you?¡± The superior hissed venomously. ¡°Sorry, sir.¡± The soldier said. ¡°Somehow, they managed to disable the communication functions of the surveillance unit. Posthumous analysis shows traces of tinfoil being used, sir.¡± ¡°Tinfoil¡­¡± The superior muttered absentmindedly. ¡°Surprising a human would¡¯ve known to use that. What happened to the perpetrators?¡± ¡°According to the operator¡¯s report, there were two humans.¡± The soldier dictated from a sheet. ¡°Both caucasian. The two fled the scene shortly after, even though their vehicle had crashed and burned. The only other piece of evidence to go by is their license plate. A fragment of a commemorative plate for the state of Oregon was found.¡± ¡°Fucking useless, the whole lot of them.¡± The robed figure slithered angrily. ¡°I told those idiots to record every. single. encounter. Tell national security to start looking for these bastards.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll be done, sir. Glory to the Great-Mother.¡± The soldier answered, before saluting and hurriedly leaving the room. Chapter 2 - The Taboo Factory 1 The basement was filled with sounds of creaking and cracking, with the occasional mumble and swear escaping through the thin wooden door. The strange smell of petrol mixed with the stench of dried blood tinged one¡¯s senses as they descended down the wooden steps. The basement itself was disorganized and dusty, with boxes and tools littered throughout, no single step safe from the danger of nails and bolts. Inside was an old-fashioned workbench, dirtied by use and neglect. Dozens of scrap metal contraptions lay scattered about, all crudely shaped and of amateur build. In front of the bench sat a single man, hunched over, his gaze focused on some unknown project. His concentration was undeniable, not even noticing as steps descended down the stairs and knocked on the door in a rhythmic, code-like pattern. The man only flinched as a familiar hand struck out, calling for his attention. ¡°Holy shit, Watson!¡± Jones gasped in surprise, jolting backwards. ¡°I told you to fucking knock, for the third time. We made a code, remember?¡± ¡°Five times. And I¡¯ve knocked; you didn¡¯t notice. For the tenth time.¡± Watson sighed, staring uncomfortably on the workbench. ¡°So¡­ Uh, you¡¯ve been busy, I can tell? What¡¯re you up to?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been fiddling with this chip.¡± Jones replied, holding up a small, metal chip, placed firmly between the tongs of a tweezer. ¡°I see.¡± Watson said, as he turned his gaze. He squeezed his nose tightly with one hand, pointing at a specific object with the other hand. ¡°Does the dead pidgeon have something to do with that?¡± ¡°Which one?¡± Jones asked. ¡°If you mean the one on the table, yes, you¡¯re right.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s what¡¯s in the freezer.¡± Watson shook his head. ¡°I think I¡¯d rather not know. What is that chip, anyways?¡± ¡°Glad you asked.¡± Jones smiled gleefully. ¡°I¡¯ve figured some shit out. Cut this fat one open this morning, and I¡¯ve found this chip inside. Must be some surveillance tech from the government.¡± ¡°Really? I¡¯d never have thought that was possible¡­ But good job, I guess.¡± Watson said, nodding in approval. ¡°No problem. Devious little buggers, aren''t they? They¡¯ve even labelled this thing as a Philadelphia University Avian Migration Tracking Device.¡± Jones affirmed proudly. ¡°But they aren¡¯t fooling me.¡± ¡°So¡­ What¡¯re you going to do with it?¡± Watson asked. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll tape it in some tinfoil and fiddle around with it later.¡± Jones replied. ¡°I¡¯ll go get some. You¡¯ve run out here, haven¡¯t you?¡± Watson stated, turning around to leave. ¡°Yeah, I have. But wait.¡± Jones said, holding Watson back. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta talk to you." ¡°About what?¡± Watson asked, turning back to face Jones. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sick and tired of sitting in this dump.¡± Jones replied, tapping his foot in annoyance. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta ask you some questions about the outside. We have to get started, you know.¡± ¡°What questions? You¡¯ve already asked me plenty.¡± Watson replied, confused by the question. ¡°Besides, get started on what?¡± ¡°Breaking the conditioning! That¡¯s the goal here, remember?¡± Jones scolded, his tapping getting fiercer. ¡°I need to ask you questions on where to get some information.¡± ¡°Information? Isn¡¯t what I told you enough?¡± Watson replied, surprised by Jones¡¯s claim. ¡°No, not nearly. You know enough, sure, but you don¡¯t know what we need to know.¡± Jones answered, this time prodding at Watson for emphasis. ¡°We need to know about the enemy, and you don¡¯t know anything about that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but well¡­ You know, for me, I¡¯m still not sure about¡­ Anything, you know?¡± Watson mumbled, his eyes staring at the floor. ¡°Hell, I¡¯m not even sure I¡¯m supposed to trust you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good, you¡¯re finally learning to stop being a sheep.¡± Jones replied, his foot now still. ¡°But getting back to the point, have you at least been doing what I asked you to do?¡± ¡°Yes¡­ Well, I¡¯ve tried. I checked through the full list.¡± Watson replied. ¡°But I haven¡¯t seen any nefarious black cars, no nefarious black helicopters, certainly no nefarious black UFO¡¯s, and not even a single blue-striped golf cart.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s good, in a way, I guess.¡± Jones sighed in disappointment. ¡°What about lizardmen?¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t seen any. Well- I mean, this may be slightly racist, but maybe the police chief?¡± Watson replied, scratching his chin. ¡°Racist? What do you mean?¡± Jones asked in amusement. ¡°Well, the police chief happens to look like a lizard. Scaly body, long tongue, everything.¡± Watson answered. ¡°But well, that¡¯s just how French people look like, right? You can get your tongue chopped off for being intolerant.¡± ¡°Jesus Christ. And here I thought you were getting smarter.¡± Jones facepalmed. ¡°So, guess we¡¯ll have to check the police station sometime. Not exactly smart without some serious preparation. But anywhere else?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ Like, where?¡± Watson asked, fidgeting uncomfortably. ¡°Anywhere else suspicious, obviously.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°You know¡­ Like¡­ I dunno, a city hall, finance centres, creepy buildings, local McDonalds¡­ Anything?¡± ¡°Well¡­ We used to have a town hall, but it¡¯s gone now. We do have a Taco Bell, though, if that counts.¡± Watson recounted. ¡°Nothing, then.¡± Jones said. ¡°Really nothing else come to mind?¡± ¡°There is a house down the street where shady types meet.¡± Watson answered. ¡°Odd people in weird cloaks gather every friday evening, I¡¯ve heard.¡± ¡°Do you hear the deafening sound of My Chemical Romance from that house?¡± Jones inquired, his arms crossed. ¡°Oh, yes. How¡¯d you know that?¡± Watson gasped in surprise. ¡°That¡¯s just a vampire roleplay group. We had one in our neighbourhood too.¡± Jones explained. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing then.¡± Watson replied, slumping down. ¡°I mean, I guess there is the factory, but¡­¡± ¡°The factory?¡± Jones perked up in curiosity. ¡°I- well, like a third of the town here works at the factory.¡± Watson answered absentmindedly. ¡°We make medical supplies there. You know, therapeutic chairs, head massagers, acupuncture beds, that kind of stuff.¡± ¡°Literally none of that sounds right.¡± Jones sneered confidently. ¡°Tell me. What do they do, exactly?¡± ¡°Well, the chairs are supposed to stimulate the muscles with electric impulses or something. The head massager uses some radio waves for this or that, and the acupuncture beds are just beds full of needles, basically.¡± Watson stated. ¡°I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re for exactly.¡± ¡°Do you also make wooden pyramids and dick cages? How does any of that sound like medical equipment?¡± Jones snorted. ¡°Well, it was a bit weird to see a high voltage stamp on those things¡­ They told me it was medical equipment though, so I figured...¡± Watson explained absentmindedly. ¡°You¡¯d think it¡¯d be obvious. Ack, whatever, spilled milk.¡± Jones dismissed. ¡°So, tell me about that place, how is it, security-wise?¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got two guards¡­¡± Watson recounted. ¡°Technically three. One sits in the camera room, I think.¡± ¡°What about camera placement? Guard shifts? Any other security measures like tripwires?¡± Jones demanded, as he hurriedly began jotting notes down. ¡°Uh. I don¡¯t pay attention to that stuff, but¡­ There is a camera by the front gate and the loading bay outside. I don¡¯t know any others.¡± Watson mentioned. ¡°Guards are usually gone by 8 pm, I think, but I wouldn''t know where to. I¡¯ve never seen them around town.¡± ¡°How do they look like? Are they lizardmen, too?¡± Jones asked, his eyes still glued to the paper. ¡°They wear masks. Never thought much of it, really. I mean, most people working for the government do that. Something about anti-harassment and diversity policies.¡± Watson answered. ¡°Alright. Can you draw a map?¡± Jones demanded, as he suddenly stopped scribbling in his notes. ¡°Sure.¡± Watson said, as he picked up a blank sheet. Within minutes, he scribbled a very simple outline of a building, approximately the size of six warehouses. He also marked the location on the local town map. ¡°What¡¯s that corridor, the one with the question mark?¡± Jones asked, as he pointed on the map. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ Well, an employees only area. The government shows up to inspect the place once in a while, and besides them and the guards, nobody¡¯s allowed to enter.¡± Watson replied. ¡°So that¡¯s our target then. Our first mission!¡± Jones exclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence. ¡°Exciting.¡± Watson answered sarcastically, his voice dripping with doubt. ¡°You should be.¡± Jones said, tapping his partner on the back. ¡°But before that, I¡¯ve got a mission for you. Something simple.¡± ¡°And that would be¡­?¡± Watson asked, his face portraying his uneasiness. ¡°It¡¯s nothing special, really. I need you to go pick up some stealthy outfits.¡± Jones answered. ¡°I dunno, some ninja-shit. You know what I mean? Black overalls, a nifty mask, maybe some blades or something for intimidation.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Oh. Sure. Sounds pretty simple.¡± Watson replied, sighing in relief. ¡°I was worried you¡¯d ask me for something crazy illegal. But something like that? Gladly, I guess.¡± ¡°Speaking of illegal¡­¡± Jones muttered, grabbing something on his workbench. ¡°I thought you said guns were illegal? Why the hell do you have this?¡± Jones held up an impressive piece of craftsmanship- a shiny, polished Colt 1911. The casing was simple, yet elegant, with a custom finish added to the grips of the pistol. ¡°Give that back!¡± Watson jumped, grabbing for the gun. ¡°Why?¡± Jones asked, jumping backwards in surprise. ¡°Calm down. What¡¯s this all about?¡± ¡°That¡¯s- my grandpa¡¯s.¡± Watson answered, struggling to grab the pistol. ¡°He was a soldier. You know, back during the war- don¡¯t- touch- that¡­¡± ¡°Alright, alright. Jeez. Take it.¡± Jones relented, throwing the gun back towards Watson. ¡°Can¡¯t find bullets for the damn thing anyways.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Watson replied, holding the weapon firmly with both hands. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve been fiddling with this.¡± Jones stated, proudly holding up another, more crude contraption. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Watson asked, staring at the metal object with curiosity. ¡°It¡¯s a derringer. Two shots only. I kinda fucked up the boring, so it won¡¯t take bullets, so I just stuffed the ends like a flintlock.¡± Jones presented. ¡°Made the powder myself with match heads and some lighter fluid.¡± ¡°Huh. Does it work?¡± Watson asked, nodding in acknowledgement. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve tried with small amounts of power, but hopefully, tonight will be the first field test.¡± Jones grinned widely. ¡°Woo.¡± Watson replied dejectedly. ¡°I like the enthusiasm.¡± Jones affirmed. ¡°We¡¯re meeting at around 11 pm, about five hundred meters down the road from the factory. Got it?¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Watson answered.
The street lamp flickered on and off, a swarm of flies swarming the incandescent light. The warm, cool evening breeze rustled the foliage gently. Amidst the bushes, however, stood something unmoving- a strange object, poking its top just barely outside of cover. The empty streets stretched on for hundreds of meters, with nothing to be seen but the lights of civilization in the distance. The only sounds present were the chirping of owls and buzzing of insects, stemming mostly from the forest in which a factory was obscured. In the distance, a figure emerged- humming nervously as it got closer and closer to the forest¡¯s entrance. Its eyes darted about maniacally, the pupils glimmering with a distinct fear. Dressed in casual, common clothes, the figure held two pink-and-black plastic bags. Suddenly, the ominous figure between the bushes emerged as the coward walked by. ¡°Jones!¡± Watson yelped, stumbling backwards. ¡°Oh god! Why¡¯d you do that?¡± ¡°Shh!¡± Jones motioned, motioning silence with his finger. ¡°Be quiet! I was taking precautions. You sure took your damn time to get here.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ I arrived five minutes too early, you know?¡± Watson claimed, as he checked his wristwatch. ¡°Make it ten next time, then.¡± Jones replied, as he helped Watson stand back up. ¡°Thanks.¡± Watson muttered grumpily. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± ¡°No problem.¡± Jones replied obliviously, as he turned around. ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡± The two began walking down the street, and slowly entered into the forest. There were no lights to be found within, and guided only by the moonlight, the darkness was overbearing. The distant sounds of predators and prey, prancing amidst the trees, certainly did not help the atmosphere. Neither did the ominous building up ahead, the shadow of the factory¡¯s chimneys obscuring the road. ¡°Jones?¡± Watson muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have a flashlight, do you?¡± ¡°I do. But we can¡¯t use it now.¡± Jones replied, not bothering to even look back. ¡°Why not?¡± Watson asked, his voice quivering. ¡°It¡¯s- kind of unsettling, you know? What if there are wolves or something?¡± ¡°Well, if there are wolves, I doubt a flashlight will help us survive.¡± Jones replied snappily. ¡°It¡¯s for concealment. We use the light here, and anyone in a five mile radius knows we¡¯re here.¡± ¡°I- I see.¡± Watson mumbled, unconvinced by the argument. The two continued in silence down the dark road ahead, only stopping a handful of meters in front of the factory¡¯s looming gates. The metallic fencing had never seemed imposing before, but amidst the shadows, the blockade looked rather creepy. ¡°We¡¯re near.¡± Jones said silently. He pointed towards Watson and his two bags. ¡°It¡¯s time to pack those out.¡± ¡°These?¡± Watson asked, fidgeting with the bags. ¡°You got what I asked you for, right?¡± Jones questioned, staring into Watson¡¯s eyes. ¡°Yeah. I think I did a good job, actually.¡± Watson replied with a hint of confidence. ¡°Huh, really? Color me surprised.¡± Jones replied. ¡°Yeah. They¡¯re exactly what you asked for.¡± Watson said, as he laid the bags out, beginning to unpack the two slowly. ¡°They¡¯re really ideal. Just perfect for the job- sturdy, black as night, and intimidating, too.¡± Jones watched as Watson laid out one of the outfits on the road. The costume was a jet-black, leather one-piece, with cheap metal spikes attached on the shoulders. The center was crowned with a metallic link held in place by a series of leather straps. The mask was a simple construct, with only four holes for the mouth, the nose, and the eyes to peek through. Jones gazed at the suit in horror as realization dawned. ¡°They cost me a lot, too.¡± Watson proclaimed, as he unpacked the second. ¡°Got them from that store in the mall- what was it, Hot Topic? I¡¯d never been there, but they were really nice.¡± ¡°Watson.¡± Jones said, his voice strained in disbelief. ¡°The cashier even called me cute. Gave me his number and this small tub of vaseline. No idea why, since we¡¯re both guys, but-¡± ¡°Watson.¡± Jones repeated, slightly louder than the first time. ¡°What?¡± Watson asked, his head turning to meet Jones. ¡°You do realize what these are, right?¡± Jones asked. ¡°No? Well, disguises?¡± Watson replied, his eyes blinking in surprise. ¡°Jesus Christ. Watson, these are bondage suits.¡± Jones explained slowly in frustration. ¡°What¡¯s a bondage?¡± Watson asked, his eyes glimmering with the wondrous naivete of a child. Jones sighed. ¡°I knew I couldn¡¯t trust you with even this.¡± He stated, as he suddenly fumbled between his boxers and his pants, grabbing a dark-scarf from within. ¡°Knew it was a good idea to pack this thing with. I¡¯m not wearing that thing into a masochist¡¯s dreamland.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ My grandma knitted that scarf for me.¡± Watson said, watching as Jones violated his prized possession and wrapped it around his head. ¡°Yada yada yada.¡± Jones dismissed. ¡°You wear that¡­ thing. Leave the other one behind. Hide it in that bush over there.¡± Watson grumbled, yet complied obediently, slowly changing into the leathery outfit, finding nothing wrong with it- in fact, the leather felt nice and smooth, and it was nice and comfortable to move inside. Besides, he actually kind of enjoyed the design. It actually made him feel safe and more protected. ¡°Ready?¡± Jones asked. After seeing that Watson had nodded, they set off once more. The pair slowly and carefully approached the perimeter of the factory. The fencing, on close inspection, was certainly well built- but not nearly as well maintained. Much of the iron had begun showing the signs of age, and rust was a common sight. Soon enough, the two discovered a particularly weak spot, where a handful of chains had gotten loose, and managed to wiggle open a hole with a pocket knife and a rock. ¡°How lucky, but this is where the difficult part comes in¡­¡± Jones muttered, staring at the small map that Watson had drafted up earlier. ¡°This window, around the north, you said it was padlocked, right?¡± ¡°I think so¡­ Well, I don¡¯t really pay attention usually. But I think it was padlocked, yeah.¡± Watson replied, nodding in response. ¡°Not very reassuring, but I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡± Jones said, rolling up the map. ¡°We¡¯re avoiding the loading bay, since you said there was a camera there. Let¡¯s sneak by the west side.¡± The pair then began tip-toeing around the large building. The factory itself was quite impressive in size, but the design left a lot to be desired. It was a big structure of concrete and sheet metal, the shape and form of which Jones would call communist. Minimalist was a more apt description, although in this case that meant more ¡°function over design¡± rather than ¡°modern¡±. The perimeter for the factory was quite a bit larger than the structure itself. Most of this open space was used for storage, with many crates and containers being littered throughout. This made it convenient for sneaking around, as there were many tight-fitting angles for our heroes to crawl through. The duo found their way through like cockroaches, slowly but surely arriving at their destination. ¡°So you were right. This is padlocked.¡± Jones said, staring right into a small window. ¡°I told you so.¡± Watson beamed proudly. ¡°But it¡¯s padlocked on the other side.¡± Jones explained, knocking at the sheet of glass between them and the lock itself. ¡°Oh.¡± Watson sighed. ¡°Well, no matter.¡± Jones muttered, fumbling in his pockets. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s not shut very tight. Just use this to make a small gap for me¡­¡± Watson grabbed Jones¡¯s pocket knife, and gently shoved the blade in between the window and sill. Applying a good amount of pressure, he lifted the window slightly, and held it open. Jones produced two small wrenches, using both to clamp and break open the padlock, setting the window loose. ¡°Wow. Where¡¯d you learn to do that?¡± Watson asked, impressed by the trick. ¡°The internet.¡± Jones replied curtly. He lifted the window gently, surveying the insides carefully, then slowly stepping in. ¡°I¡¯d really like to buy one of those internets.¡± Watson expressed, as he followed Jones inside.
Somewhere deep within the factory, a warm, heated room was filled with the artificial pale-blue glow of a dozen monitors. Within this room, three appropriately-dressed guardsmen stood by, tapping through each and every camera carefully, inspecting all which may be out of place. The silhouettes of these voyeurs were all decidedly non-human, with spikes and tails poking through places where they definitely did not belong. ¡°...so then she says, you had a reptile dysfunction! Ha, get it?¡± A voice cackled amidst the blue-tinted control centre, hysterically laughing at his own joke. ¡°Goddamnit, Craig.¡± Another sighed, clearly frustrated by the first¡¯s antics. ¡°Seriously, Craig?¡± A third joined the chorus of disappointment. ¡°Oh fuck you guys. You assholes never laugh at my jokes.¡± Craig huffed, flustered by the bad reception. ¡°Because they¡¯re awful, Craig. You aren¡¯t funny.¡± The second explained, facepalming himself. ¡°Screw you, Q¡¯ev¡¯in. Mother told me I was the funniest one of the lot.¡± Craig exerted, his voice full of venom. ¡°Your mother likes you. That¡¯s why. Go tell literally any other mother that joke and they¡¯ll have you shot for insubordination.¡± The third chimed in. ¡°Well, fuck you too, Al¡¯eex. You Geckos have no taste, I swear.¡± Craig asserted in response. ¡°Better than being a Skink. How does it feel like being dumber than those hairless apes?¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in retorted in anger. ¡°Ha-ha. Funny. God, you guys are dickbags, I swear.¡± Craig complained, then turned away, finding something to occupy himself with. ¡°Why¡¯re we stuck with Craig on this outpost? I hate that guy.¡± Al¡¯eex whispered to his comrade-in-arms. ¡°He was the first one to hatch, so his mother wanted him to have a good job, I heard.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in replied silently in kind. ¡°Lucky bastard. My mother never even bothered with our batch.¡± ¡°At least you didn¡¯t turn out to be some spoiled shit like him.¡± Al¡¯eex responded, his voice raising just a little in anger. ¡°Whatever. At least we¡¯re getting shifted in two months.¡± ¡°Gotta endure, man.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in responded, offering his friend a salute. ¡°Oh, by the way, were you checking the cameras?¡± Al¡¯eex asked, now speaking normally. ¡°I was just looking at it, and doesn¡¯t the window by C-06 look¡­ Open?¡± ¡°Ah, shit. Craig distracted me with his damn jokes. I was supposed to be checking that.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in sighed, as he flipped through the cameras. ¡°Well, just be careful now. Don¡¯t let that idiot distract you again. I¡¯ve heard horror stories about some of those re-training facilities¡­¡± Al¡¯eex claimed, turning his attention to the monitors Chapter 3 - The Taboo Factory 2 The echoes of creaking and buzzing bounced from wall to wall, filling the factory halls with an ominous, mechanical sound. The rafters were well-ventilated, with rows upon rows of windows letting an abundance of fresh air inside. The moonlight seeped through these opening, lighting the factory hall in its palue-blue glow. The machines blipped and flashed small dots of red, indicating that they were all connected and ready to go. Crates upon crates were stacked from wall to wall, and the conveyor belts were littered with parts and pieces of concern. Spikes and rods of all shapes and sizes were being manufactured at a suspicious pace. ¡°Damn. This is like a seasonal haunted house. Is that an Iron Maiden over there?¡± Jones asked, pointing towards a spiked iron coffin. ¡°They called it the bloodletter.¡± Watson replied silently. The two had been sneaking around the factory for quite some time- and yet, there was no indication of getting caught. Silently and carefully, they tread gently across the factory hall, making sure to not generate too much noise, as they took an obscure route towards their destination. ¡°We¡¯re almost there, Watson. That¡¯s the cafeteria, right?¡± Jones questioned, pointing at a set of double-doors ahead. ¡°And the corridor¡¯s beyond that?¡± ¡°Yes. It¡¯s behind a ¡®staff only¡¯ door in the kitchen.¡± Watson answered, as the two slowly crept towards the door. ¡°There better be something worthwhile in there¡­ Well, with all this shit lying around, I¡¯d be damned if there wasn''t.¡± Jones mumbled discontentedly. ¡°Just hope there aren¡¯t any guards around.¡± ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t think there was a camera in the cafeteria or the kitchen.¡± Watson said. ¡°But nobody knows what¡¯s behind the door, so¡­¡± ¡°Since they¡¯ve got cams outside, it only makes sense to have them inside as well.¡± Jones argued. ¡°And if there¡¯s one place to put one in, it¡¯s definitely the secret corridor.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t asked yet, but what are you planning to do if we do meet somebody?¡± Watson asked, glancing at the crude pistol mounted on Jones¡¯s belt. ¡°If we can get em¡¯ to talk, then we go for that.¡± Jones replied. ¡°If they¡¯re attacking us, we shoot them.¡± Watson gulped. ¡°It¡¯s self defence. No way around it.¡± Jones stated abrasively. ¡°I know, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Watson fidgeted. ¡°I¡¯m not looking forward to it.¡± Jones slowly approached the set of double doors, gently pushing the two open. The wooden doors creaked slightly despite the soft treatment. The cafeteria was pitch black, with only an emergency exit sign well-lit. There were enough tables and chairs to accommodate around a hundred-fifty grown men, and the kitchen was wide and spacious, separated from the dining space by an open wall. ¡°I can¡¯t see shit.¡± Jones complained, rummaging for something in his pocket. He pulled out a small flashlight, the size of an army knife, and flicked it on. The two carefully walked through the cafeteria and into the kitchen, only a small, tiny light to guide them along. The kitchen was spacious, with dozens of pots and pans hanging from wall to wall, and kitchen knives were racked in an orderly fashion. ¡°Hmm, you suppose there¡¯s anything useful around here?¡± Jones asked, turning to face Watson. ¡°Here? In the kitchen?¡± Watson asked, befuddled by the question. ¡°Yeah, you know¡­ Alcohol, for example. We could make a molotov. Or saltpeter, slap that and some chemicals together and you can make all sorts of bombs. Like a flashbang.¡± Jones explained. ¡°Uh, well, I doubt they have alcohol here.¡± Watson considered. ¡°But they do have a bunch of spices. The menu always tastes bland, though.¡± ¡°What a shame. Molotovs¡­ Should¡¯ve made some beforehand. You got some Vodka at home?¡± Jones asked, now looking towards the cooking implements. ¡°I don¡¯t drink. Well, alcohol¡¯s expensive anyways. They¡¯ve taxed it quite a lot, you know.¡± Watson answered. ¡°Seriously? Damn¡­¡± Jones sighed. ¡°Is that why I haven¡¯t seen any bars around? Hell, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen a single pub marked down on that town map of yours¡­¡± ¡°Umm, since the anti-indulgence laws of the early 60¡¯s, they¡¯ve taxed all non-essential goods. Alcohol, Tobacco, Sugar¡­ Meats, too.¡± Watson listed, spewing knowledge he hadn¡¯t found useful since his history test ten years ago. ¡°Ugh, is that why you keep feeding me that soy-crap?¡± Jones asked, shuddering in disgust. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s hard enough to keep myself fed, you know. And someone had to blow up my Cadillac¡­¡± Watson retorted. ¡°You still angry about that? Be happy I finally got you an excuse to buy an actual car.¡± Jones snorted. Watson grumbled silently under his breath. ¡°By the way, if you want a weapon, you might wanna pick this thing up.¡± Jones said, holding up a meat tenderizer. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t a knife be better?¡± Watson asked, shifting uncomfortably as he accepted the mallet. ¡°Well, it¡¯s harder to handle a knife. Besides, I¡¯m not sure a shitty Cutco knife would do much against godzilla¡¯s hide.¡± Jones explained. ¡°We should get going now. Don¡¯t think there¡¯s more useful stuff around.¡± Watson dawdled right behind Jones, refusing to be left behind in a dark, creepy kitchen. Jones slowly fumbled with the foreboding door¡¯s knob, slowly cracking the wooden door open as he confirmed it unlocked. He then carefully peered his head inside, only to find it empty and unlit. ¡°Nothing. And nobody, either. It¡¯s probably safe.¡± Jones whispered, as he slowly stepped in. Watson followed, quietly, and the duo began heading down the hallway in silence. The only things audible were the footsteps of the two intruders, and the thumping beats of Watson¡¯s heart. The hallway looked like an old and creepy office complexes. On Jones¡¯s ¡®chance of stabbing scale¡¯, the hallway reported a remarkable London/10. Only a handful of meters and a corner later, they found themselves in front of a door. It was clearly labelled as ¡®Changing Room & Lockers¡¯. Jones signalled Watson to halt, slowly confirmed that the door was unlocked, and slipped inside, Watson following closely. Inside was a rather generic changing room. There were a couple sets of padlocked lockers, with three already opened. ¡°Hmm, this could be a really bad sign¡­¡± Jones mumbled silently. ¡°Three already opened.¡± ¡°Do you think¡­¡± Watson gulped. ¡°They¡¯re here?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯d rather not think too hard about that.¡± Jones replied. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can find anything useful. Keep quiet, though. We need to be more alert.¡± Watson nodded, and watched as Jones slowly pried locker after locker open. ¡°Huh, is this a floor plan?¡± Jones questioned, holding up a folded piece of blue paper. ¡°And nice, a can of pepper spray.¡± ¡°Seems like it¡­ Although, I don¡¯t recognize a lot of the stuff on there.¡± Watson answered. ¡°Interesting. So there¡¯s a control center down this hallway, and an air vent connecting all rooms¡­¡± Jones considered. ¡°This could really come in handy.¡± ¡°Jones, look, how about these?¡± Watson asked, holding up two pairs of pink, fluffy handcuffs of quality make. ¡°Jesus. Where¡¯d you find those?¡± Jones demanded, startled by the find. ¡°Were they next to a bottle of Astroglide?¡± ¡°Oh, they were in that one. The one labelled as, uh ¡®Craig¡¯? Next to a bunch of weird stuff, actually.¡± ¡°...You hold onto those. Is there a key?¡± Jones asked. ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± Watson replied. ¡°Let¡¯s get out now. Nothing else useful, I think.¡± Jones said, leading the charge. ¡°Um, Jones?¡± Watson muttered. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Look over there, in the upper corner.¡± Watson gestured towards the ceiling. ¡°Shit.¡± Jones mumbled.
¡°Guys?¡± A voice slithered, staring intently at a monitor. ¡°We¡¯ve got intruders.¡± ¡°Wait, really?¡± Another answered, fumbling awake from his lazy stupor. ¡°Wow. That¡¯s a first.¡± ¡°Huh. Two intruders. How rare¡­¡± The first mumbled. ¡°Ugh, dear Great-Mother. Is that¡­ One of those leather fetish suits? He knows what we¡¯re making here, doesn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°These humans are pretty fucked up. I gotta say-¡± The second replied, suddenly halted as he watched a third drool at the sight of prey. ¡°What the fuck, Craig, are you drooling?¡± ¡°The hell, Craig?¡± The first joined in, horrified by the implications. ¡°I¡­ Uh, it¡¯s a misunderstanding!¡± Craig mumbled, quickly wiping the drool off his face. ¡°Is that why you¡¯ve been holding onto that whip?¡± The second asked, disgust evident on his face. ¡°No, that¡¯s a misunderstanding. Q¡¯ev¡¯in¡­¡± Craig replied. ¡°I, uh, do you guys mind if I take care of that one?¡± ¡°What the hell, man, humans? Really, man?¡± The second asked. ¡°Oh fuck you too, Al¡¯eex.¡± Craig retorted in defeat. ¡°I said it¡¯s not like that.¡± ¡°You always make that face, though. That creepy thing with your eyelids. Makes you look real ugly.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in stated. ¡°It¡¯s really disgusting, man. What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Al¡¯eex added.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Screw you assholes. Just envious because you don¡¯t even have eyelids, aren¡¯t you?¡± Craig grumbled. ¡°You Geckos are always so damn judgemental. I¡¯m heading out. I¡¯ll get them.¡± Craig huffed and puffed as he angrily exited the room. ¡°I swear, that guy.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in snorted. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him?¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather not know, man.¡± Al¡¯eex sighed. ¡°But anyways, the intruders are almost here.¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised¡­ That one looks well equipped, doesn¡¯t he?¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in stated. ¡°He does. You suppose he¡¯s one of those ¡®resistance¡¯ guys?¡± Al¡¯eex asked. ¡°How should I know? None of the Jenny units reported any odd occurrences in the town, though.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in responded. ¡°I guess that¡¯s true. Shouldn¡¯t we be helping Craig, by the way?¡± Al¡¯eex mentioned. ¡°C¡¯mon, it¡¯s pair of hairless apes. You really think Craig can¡¯t deal with them alone?¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in scoffed. ¡°I suppose. No way he¡¯d fuck this up, would he?¡± Al¡¯eex admitted, having a little laugh.
Jones and Watson had been carefully proceeding through the linear hallway. There was the occasional turn and crossroad here and there, but for the most part, the path was very clear. Until now, the exploration had been completely incident-free, with no surprises to hinder their way. ¡°Say, Jones.¡± Watson whispered. ¡°Were those blockades really necessary?¡± ¡°Of course they are.¡± Jones replied, annoyed. ¡°We know where they are, so we¡¯ll have an easier time getting through while anybody chasing us won¡¯t. That¡¯s the idea.¡± ¡°Uh, will a couple of chairs and lockers really do much, though?¡± Watson asked, but received no reply, as Jones quickly shoved his palm against Watson¡¯s mouth. ¡°Quiet. No sounds.¡± Jones said, peering over a corner. In the distance, a scaled monstrosity was to be seen. A green lizardman, about 2 meters in height and substantial bulk was slumbering in their direction. He was about thirty feet away and closing in slowly. The lizardman was equipped with a security guard outfit, a set of handcuffs, and a whip. ¡°Shit. There¡¯s one there.¡± Jones whispered. ¡°Oh, god¡­ What¡¯re we going to do?¡± Watson said, nervously fidgeting in place. Jones scanned the area, channeling all his superhuman vitality to conjure up a plan in a jiffy. Within a couple of seconds, he hastily turned to Watson. ¡°Watson.¡± He stated. ¡°I need you to run as a decoy.¡± ¡°W-what?¡± Watson muttered, his face turning pale. ¡°I ca- can¡¯t do that! He¡¯s going to- kill me!¡± ¡°Look, Watson!¡± Jones said, grabbing Watson by the shoulder. ¡°The only weapon he¡¯s got is a whip. He¡¯s not looking out to kill- just to capture. Besides, I¡¯ll have your back.¡± ¡°But- but¡­¡± Watson mumbled, his words slurring. ¡°You¡¯re the only one who can do this.¡± Jones claimed, staring deeply into his eyes. ¡°I believe in you. Just run down the hallway to the left. I¡¯ll come and save you, you hear?¡± ¡°Ar-are you sure?¡± Watson asked, tearing up a bit. ¡°Yes. Now go.¡± Jones replied, shoving him ahead. Watson then jolted forwards, running off into the hallways. He tried his hardest not to look back; the incredibly loud thumping of the monstrosity¡¯s stride caused his inner flee-or-fight instincts to flare up, and he¡¯d never been one for fight. Besides, something about the creature¡¯s panting gave him the creeps.
Jones watched as the lizardman chased Watson down the halls. ¡°Idiot.¡± Jones mumbled. After the creature had turned a corner and left his field of vision, he quietly began wandering down the halls in the other direction. The halls began getting sticky with heat the closer he got to the control centre. Lizards preferred heat, he assumed. Slowly but surely, step by step, he closed in on the elusive room. In the distance, a door was outlined by a bright blue shine, the signs of electric light leaking through. Nearing the entrance, he swiftly attached his back to the wall, slowly creeping towards the door. Jones took a last, deep breath, unsheathed his pistol, cocked it in preparation, and kicked the door in. ¡°Hands up!¡± He shouted with all fury and might, staring into a pair of confused lizardmen. But neither complied. Within seconds, one leaped forwards, closing the gap. Surprised, Jones couldn¡¯t react quickly, but managed to pull the trigger as one stood a single meter ahead, his claws raised. The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed, proving that the makeshift pistol did indeed work. However, unexpectedly, the bullet ricocheted off the lizardman¡¯s hide, only staggering his opponent for a mere second. This time, Jones did not hesitate to react. Seeing this, he loudly yelled ¡°Fuck¡±, and began running away.
¡°He¡¯s a fast one, isn¡¯t he? Couldn''t get a single clean shot on the guy. How the hell did he get so ahead?¡± Al¡¯eex exclaimed, as the duo dashed forwards. They had been in pursuit of the intruder for quite a while, but had fallen significantly behind. ¡°It¡¯s these fucking barricades. Collapsed lockers. Broken chairs. He even spilled a bucket of legos. Who the hell does that?¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in replied venomously. ¡°I think that¡¯s a bunch of thumbtacks ahead. Be careful.¡± Al¡¯eex sighed, as he prepared to leap. ¡°Well, he can¡¯t get too far away. If he leaves the factory, we¡¯ll have an easy time tracking him in the forest.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in stated, grinning in malice. ¡°The kitchen¡¯s right ahead. Probably through there.¡± Al¡¯eex said, drawing attention to the door. The duo rammed the door at full speed, causing the wooden panel to jolt forwards, flying out of the doorframe with an impressive velocity. The kitchen was in a sorry state- objects had been flung around violently, and certain cabins had been raided carelessly. The ground was littered with glass shards and utensils. ¡°Where¡¯s the human?¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in asked, expecting no answer. ¡°Uh, you suppose he went to the production area?¡± Al¡¯eex replied, scratching his head in confusion. ¡°No, wait- look, footsteps, in that patch of spilled condiments.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in said, pointing towards a foot-shaped groove in a field of cinnamon. ¡°Oh. Wait, doesn¡¯t that lead into¡­¡± Al¡¯eex asked. ¡°Yeah, the ventilation shaft.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in finished, sighing in annoyance. ¡°Damn, we can¡¯t chase him through there, can we?¡± Al¡¯eex figured, twiddling with his claws. ¡°No, but I have an idea.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in claimed, grabbing a couple of pots and pans. ¡°Stuff this end with anything you can find. This shaft¡­ It only leads deeper in from here, I think. If he can¡¯t get out through here, he¡¯s cornered.¡± ¡°Damn, that¡¯s a good idea.¡± Al¡¯eex regarded gleefully.. ¡°I¡¯ll help out. We can take our time, huh?¡± ¡°Yeah. Actually, if we¡¯re lucky, Craig might run into the guy.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in realized. ¡°Oh, yeah. That¡¯d be ideal.¡± Al¡¯eex smirked, holding a pair of pots for stacking. The two swiftly began stocking the shaft full of odds and ends, smashing in a couple of glass bottles for good measure. To finish things off, they grabbed a mallet and pounded the metal in, denting and deforming the end. ¡°That¡¯s that, I guess.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in said, smiling at a job well done. ¡°Yeah. Suppose Craig found the bastard?¡± Al¡¯eex asked in jest. ¡°Probably too busy ¡®torturing¡¯ the other one, the sick fuck-¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in snorted, but was interrupted by an inhuman howl. ¡°Was that-¡± Al¡¯eex asked silently. ¡°Craig.¡± Q¡¯ev¡¯in said, bursting with anger. ¡°Fucking Craig.¡±
Watson had seen some shit. He¡¯d been caught by the predator quite quickly- and detained, atop a wooden horse, chained and cuffed. He¡¯d been ready to piss himself as the lizardman licked him from top to bottom, panting in an odd, rhythmic pattern. Was he anticipating the tasty snack he was about to feast upon? But before that could happen, the ventilation shaft had suddenly collapsed- and out came Jones, releasing a full can of pepper spray into the lizard¡¯s eyes. The monster howled and gasped, flailing around on the ground with an inhuman strength, but Jones had managed to cuff the beast to a pipe. Watson had been waiting patiently to be freed, but Jones paid him no heed. He questioned the beast mercilessly, torturing it by stepping on its genitals repeatedly. Afterwards, he quickly began working on his crude pistol, mixing this or that- Watson didn¡¯t know what they were- and stuffing it inside the barrel. And now, two other lizardmen furiously kicked in the door, glaring angrily at both Jones and the first lizard. After a set of unintelligible, silent whispers, the two turned their attentions to Jones and began speaking, their hands fingering their holstered pistols. ¡°You think you have us beat with a single hostage, human?¡± One slithered with a heavy accent. ¡°We don¡¯t care what you do with that dumbass Craig. He could die for all we care.¡± ¡°H-hey! Guys! Come on!¡± Craig responded. ¡°Please! This maniac¡¯s actually going to-¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up, Craig. You idiot.¡± The second one interrupted. ¡°I figured, honestly.¡± Jones replied, his mouth twisted to a grin as he held his pistol up. ¡°That joke of a weapon? You really think you can win this fight?¡± The first exclaimed, the pair then suddenly cackling in delight. ¡°Yeah, well, I should¡¯ve upped the firepower. I admit, it¡¯s kinda shitty.¡± Jones accepted, his gaze still confident. ¡°So what do you intend to achieve?¡± The second lizard demanded, his voice becoming antagonistic. ¡°I¡¯ve learned something useful from your friend here, you see.¡± Jones explained, giving Craig another kick, eliciting a soft moan in response. ¡°So you¡¯re different species, I¡¯ve heard.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s going to save you?¡± The first asked, mystified by the statement. ¡°Not that part specifically. You¡¯re Geckos, right?¡± Jones stated, his finger tightening. ¡°And?¡± The second asked mockingly. ¡°Well.¡± Jones said, closing his eyes. ¡°You guys can¡¯t blink.¡± Then suddenly, Watson¡¯s world was covered in an abominable white as the deafening sound of a flashbang went off.
¡°Jones! My eyes!¡± Watson screamed, his voice full of pain. Jones disregarded that statement- not just because he didn¡¯t really care, but because everything- well, everything besides him, that was, began screaming in pain. It also didn¡¯t help that the sound had probably popped his eardrums, but he¡¯d deal with that later. Blindfire streaked by as the lizardmen shot in panic, but none managed to do much but graze Jones. He knew what had to be done. Grabbing the whip from Craig¡¯s belt, he began tying the two lizardmen up. Of course, it was no simple matter, as both had considerable strength, but Jones was no slacker in the world of gains. With some struggle and effort, both were securely tied and pacified. Only then did he help Watson down the wooden horse, freeing him from his shackles. ¡°My eyes¡­ My eyes¡­¡± Watson mumbled helplessly, as the two began walking towards the control centre. The control centre was a dimly lit room, with a single wall filled to the brim with monitors and control panels. The centre¡¯s field of vision expanded beyond the factory, as scenes of Watson¡¯s hometown covered most of the screens. Besides the panels, a filing cabinet stood on its lonesome, filled to the brim with documents of varying sizes and colors. Jones left Watson to sit on one of the chairs, giving him some time to recover. Watson hadn¡¯t been standing in front of the muzzle, so the effect was certainly temporary. He began rifling through the files, document after document, only to find most to be written in a different language. But he eyed a single binder full of files written in english, and nabbed it. Leaving Watson to be, he wandered back into the room where the lizardmen were left. Kicking Craig awake, he stared intensely into his eyes. ¡°Hey, pervert, wakey-wakey.¡± Jones yelled. ¡°You still alive?¡± ¡°Yes, yes- I am.¡± Craig fumbled, as he looked around, confused. ¡°What did you do to- Oh no, Q¡¯ev¡¯in¡­ Al¡¯eex¡­¡± ¡°Good.¡± Jones said softly, patting the lizard on its head. ¡°I¡¯m thinking, you see. I do need somebody useful around.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll- I¡¯ll be useful!¡± Craig exclaimed in panic. ¡°More useful than them, trust me. I know more¡­¡± ¡°Fuck you, Craig!¡± One of the two remaining lizardmen shouted. ¡°Now, now.¡± Jones asked. ¡°How do I know that? What can you do to make me trust you?¡± ¡°Uh- Umm¡­ I can tell you how to deactivate them!¡± Craig pleaded. ¡°Please, I¡¯ll tell you anything, everything you need!¡± ¡°You fucking traitor!¡± The second snarled. ¡°Now that sounds promising.¡± Jones replied, grinning widely. ¡°But you understand what¡¯ll happen to you if you¡¯re lying to me, don¡¯t you?¡± --- ¡°Watson.¡± A voice called, and shook Watson awake. ¡°H-huh? Jones?¡± Watson blubbered, shuddering awake. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me.¡± Jones replied, smiling. ¡°Great job on the distraction.¡± ¡°You- you-¡± Watson fumbled. ¡°You left me alone! I thought I was going to die!¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ve saved you though, haven¡¯t I?¡± Watson asked. ¡°Let bygones be bygones, Watson, I¡¯ve got some amazing news.¡± ¡°You think I can just-¡± Watson huffed, and puffed, but calmed down. ¡°I- I need some time to recover. What¡¯s this news?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell you.¡± Jones smirked. ¡°When we get home.¡± Chapter 4 - Its a Modern World Clang, Clang¡­ The sounds of tinkering spread through the gaps of the basement door, seeping into the house louder than ever before. The underground room was littered with odds and ends of all colors and shapes, all electronic in nature. By the workbench sat Jones, hammering away at a piece of metal, bending it into shape for an odd contraption as Watson watched silently. A janky, jerry rigged machine sat atop the workbench, a singular, copper-coiled piece of metal sticking out of the top. ¡°So¡­¡± Watson asked, staring annoyed at Jones¡¯s craftsmanship. ¡°Are you going to tell me what this is about?¡± ¡°Just gimmie a moment-¡± Jones mumbled, still hammering away. ¡°There, that¡¯s going to fit.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been at it since we arrived.¡± Watson sighed. ¡°You said you¡¯d tell me everything when we got back. I have no idea what you¡¯re up to!¡± ¡°Ack, Jesus, Watson, have some goddamn patience-¡± Jones replied abrasively, as he forcibly jammed the metal into a crudely made slit on the janky box. ¡°There we go- it fits!¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been saying that for the last hour.¡± Watson exclaimed, frustrated. ¡°Yeah, an hour, that¡¯s how long you¡¯ve been an impatient shit for.¡± Jones replied, now facing Watson. ¡°And now it¡¯s over. Happy now?¡± ¡°Finally.¡± Watson snorted. ¡°Alright. So what do you want to hear?¡± Jones asked, as he picked his nose absentmindedly. ¡°Everything. What did that¡­ Lizardman tell you?¡± Watson demanded, fidgeting nervously. ¡°Well¡­ It isn¡¯t as much as you¡¯re expecting, honestly.¡± Jones claimed. ¡°But definitely, some important bits and pieces.¡± ¡°And that would be?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Jones sighed. ¡°It¡¯s complicated, but here we go.¡± ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± Watson replied. ¡°First off, that lizardman- Craig, was it? I had him teach me how to disable the fuckers.¡± Jones stated. ¡°It¡¯s really interesting stuff. Their hides are real sturdy, but it depends on the species.¡± ¡°Species?¡± Watson mumbled. ¡°Yeah, species.¡± Jones affirmed. ¡°They¡¯re all different species of lizards, as it turns out. That Craig kid was a Skink, while the others were both Geckos. They¡¯ve got a real strict hierarchy too- apparently, your species decides where you lie, although meritocracy does apply.¡± ¡°Um¡­¡± Watson fumbled. ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°So some lizards are more powerful than others, basically. I don¡¯t get how they measure it, but Skinks and Geckos are almost dead last, with only the Monitor lizards behind them.¡± Jones explained. ¡°I guess it kinda does make sense- that Craig kid was a dumbass. Only other thing he remembered about the hierarchy are two other details.¡± ¡°Which would be¡­?¡± Watson questioned. ¡°First off- the Chameleons are top brass.¡± Jones claimed, cursing slightly under his breath. ¡°That¡¯s not a good sign, if that means what I¡¯m guessing. But the other thing is even more interesting.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± Watson blinked in curiosity. ¡°They¡¯re a matriarchy.¡± Jones snappily replied. ¡°Women have most power in their society. Also, they¡¯re apparently far bigger and stronger than males, which is scary as shit to think about.¡± ¡°Is it?¡± Watson asked. ¡°I mean¡­ I get what you mean, but¡­ With better equipment?¡± ¡°Not happening. Remember when I said Skinks and Geckos are bottom-feeders?¡± Jones sighed. ¡°Even they can shake off .22lr¡¯s like nothing. Basilisk females? 7.62¡¯s are needles for them.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ What¡¯s a 7.62?¡± Watson questioned, confused. ¡°It¡¯s a real strong cartridge, basically. Big boom, big damage.¡± Jones answered. ¡°Simply put, those fuckers are scary. Even the males can shake off SMG fire like nothing.¡± ¡°So¡­ What are we supposed to do against them?¡± Watson asked, deflated by the information. ¡°Well, that¡¯s the good thing I learned from Craig.¡± Jones replied with a grin. ¡°One of three good things. ¡°So what¡¯s that good news?¡± ¡°You can disable most males¡­ Besides the high-ranking ones. They¡¯ve got chips implanted, for the sake of subservience.¡± Jones answered, still smiling. ¡°Kinda unwieldy, but a good shock to their nape should do the trick.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Watson replied, still fidgeting. ¡°But¡­ How¡¯re you going to get to that?¡± ¡°They¡¯ve all got some weaknesses, I think. Like the Geckos with flashbangs.¡± Jones explained, his eyes gleaming. ¡°It¡¯s definitely possible. Kinda hard in groups, but yeah.¡± ¡°Is that- what you did to them?¡± Watson gulped. ¡°...Yeah. Well, I¡¯ve tied up Craig and locked him up, since he could be useful.¡± Jones answered. ¡°So¡­ What¡¯re the two other good things?¡± Watson asked, changing the subject. ¡°The first one¡¯s really useful. I got the registry for all enemies working in this area.¡± Jones grinned profusely. ¡°I¡¯ve learned some interesting stuff from there, but most importantly, there¡¯s less of them than I thought.¡± ¡°How many are there exactly?¡± ¡°Only about seven, excluding the guys from the factory. The police chief, two ¡®Jenny¡¯ units, two ¡®Joyce¡¯ units, a ¡®Wilson¡¯ unit, and another Gecko.¡± Jones replied, reading aloud from a conveniently-placed piece of paper. ¡°I dunno what they mean by ¡®unit¡¯... But yeah. Not much.¡± ¡°I see. I guess that¡¯s a relief.¡± Watson said, his shoulders slacking. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m guessing they don¡¯t have too much manpower¡­ I wonder why that is¡­ Is it logistics? No, that can¡¯t be¡­¡± Jones mumbled, trailing off. ¡°Jones?¡± Watson asked, tapping Jones¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Uh, what¡¯s the third thing?¡± ¡°Oh¡­ Yeah, the third thing.¡± Jones snapped back into reality, but looked even more excited. ¡°It¡¯s the best thing I could¡¯ve imagined, really.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Watson asked, gleaming in excitement. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s insane.¡± Jones beamed. ¡°They¡¯ve got the internet!¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Watson replied, still excited. ¡°That¡¯s a good thing, right?¡± ¡°Of course it is! The best thing to happen to mankind, really, and the connection isn¡¯t too shabby, either, I¡¯m told¡­¡± Jones exclaimed. He muttered meaningless jargon to himself. ¡°Must be better than Comcast, at least¡­ Shit, can I cash in on bitcoins before someone makes that here¡­?¡± ¡°So¡­ What do you do with that internet?¡± Watson asked, rubbing his head. ¡°I mean, you told me about the U tube or Anonymoose and all that, but I don¡¯t really get it.¡± ¡°Well, it isn¡¯t really the internet.¡± Jones admitted, reeling back a bit. ¡°More like an intranet. They don¡¯t have websites, either, but apparently they¡¯ve got something like IRC and MUD¡¯s, so¡­¡± ¡°Uh, those being?¡± Watson asked, confused by the terminology. ¡°Basically, they can talk to each other over the wire.¡± Jones simplified. ¡°Is that better than a telephone?¡± Watson questioned, unimpressed. ¡°Of course it is, you buffoon!¡± Jones shouted angrily. ¡°If- you say so.¡± Watson flinched. ¡°You just don¡¯t get it.¡± Jones sighed, disappointed by his companion. ¡°Anyways, I kinda need your help for that.¡± ¡°With what?¡± Watson asked, leaning towards Jones. ¡°I¡¯ve been working hard to make this router-thing, but¡­¡± Jones said, tapping gently at his contraption. ¡°But?¡± ¡°I need a computer.¡±
Watson whimpered silently as he watched Jones gleefully unbox a hearty, large box with an HP stamp firmly printed on it. Jones had been giddy like a child on christmas eve- Watson had acted exactly the same when his grandparents bought him socks every year. Jones whistled some tune whilst plugging in wires and cables, resorting to the manual only one or two times in the process. ¡°Beautiful, magnificent!¡± Jones yelled, rubbing the crummy eggshell-white LCD. ¡°But huh, this is pretty outdated¡­ Especially compared to that fancy-ass setup they had in that control room. Watson, is this really the best one you could find?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Watson said, staring at Jones with an evil eye. ¡°Yes, that is. I spent half the money I was saving up for my new Cadillac on that thing, you know?¡± ¡°Why are you still stuck on that shitty car brand? Whatever. You¡¯ll see the light eventually.¡± Jones dismissed. He turned back to the computer. ¡°So consumer tech¡¯s a decade behind the shit they use, huh?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m so sorry that¡¯s not good enough for you.¡± Watson replied sarcastically. ¡°Thanks.¡± Jones muttered. Focusing his attentions to the computer, he began preparing for a connection between the janky box and the computer, bringing forth a modified LAN-cable. ¡°Where¡¯d you get that, anyways? And how¡¯d you know how to modify that radio?¡± Watson asked. ¡°Craig gave it to me. Took some coercing, really. Apparently it¡¯s like the fight club thing. Not supposed to talk about it.¡± Jones replied, still focused on the task at hand. ¡°There.¡± ¡°Does it work?¡± Watson glanced at the amateurish setup and exhaled, expecting no good results. ¡°Wait. I need to install this CD first¡­¡± Jones muttered as he finalized the process. ¡°...and done.¡± ¡°So¡­¡± Watson mumbled, staring intently at the monitor. ¡°How does this work?¡± ¡°Give me a moment. LizardBBS 5.0¡­ Huh, a username? What do I use?¡± Jones asked, leaning back. ¡°What¡¯s a username?¡± ¡°Like an alias. It¡¯s what they¡¯ll call you.¡± Jones answered nonchalantly. ¡°What about¡­ Yeah, let¡¯s go with something simple. Watson1990.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that my name and birthyear?¡± Watson asked as he curiously eyed the monitor. ¡°Yeah. Nobody¡¯s dumb enough to use their actual name online, so they¡¯ll never guess this.¡± Jones answered with a smirk. He then clicked the login button.
LizardBBS was a very colorful place. There were as many channels as there were users, all dedicated to diverse interests for people to partake in. This ranged from the normal, like the very popular LizardMUD, to the fascinating, like LizardFiles, to the perverse, the fetish boards. Besides the popular pornographic boards- /vore/, /scales/, and /oviposition/, there was a single, most notorious board- /random/. LizardSquad : So, what are you retards up to this evening? M3M3L0RD : Nothin H0n0kA_LUV : Just anime Snakefucker : Nothing xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : bangin ur mums lol Donut : Stuck on guard duty JoX2_Diamond : Oh look, it¡¯s the 12 year old again. Snakefucker : Surprised the kid didnt get chopped yet for being retarded tbh H0n0kA_LUV : Send screenshots to the higher ups lol H0n0kA_LUV : watch him get fucked for talkin shit to the leaders M3M3L0RD : Were gonna get chopped too then dumbass xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : fuk u losers lol. lemme bet you fags suck human dick LizardSquad : Hey, guys, did you know your password gets censored if you type it out here? LizardSquad : Like, here¡¯s mine: ******This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Snakefucker : Oh really Snakefucker : ***** M3M3L0RD : ******* Donut : Does it really work? Donut : ****** JoX2_Diamond : *********** xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : hunt3r2 xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : wtf it didnt work H0n0kA_LUV : Shows up as ******* to me Donut : Yeah Snakefucker : ******* it says xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : oh lol Watson1990 joined. Please say hi! M3M3L0RD : Oh look, a newfag Donut : Is it another 12 year old Snakefucker : Fuck off newfag Watson1990 : Thanks Watson1990 : Only 7 people? LizardSquad : Pretty normal size on /random/ LizardSquad : Go hang out in /scales/ if you want more peeps Watson1990 : I was there Watson1990 : Was a buncha people writing fanfics Donut : It is a lewd board fam JoX2_Diamond : So, H0n0kA, what anime u watchin M3M3L0RD : Howd u get onto the net newbie H0n0kA_LUV : Rewatching Sunshine fam Watson1990 : Some kid called craig gave me his shit Donut : Oh my god Donut : Lol is that Cr4iG_420¡¯s friend? Snakefucker : Oh lol Snakefucker : He¡¯s a fag JoX2_Diamond : Hows sunshine JoX2_Diamond : I watched the first one, it was k LizardSquad : Lol, you actually know that Craig kid? Watson1990 : Kinda I guess Watson1990 : Weirdass dude tbh Watson1990 : He was into humans or something last I heard M3M3L0RD : Oh god, one of those xenophiles Donut : Lol I told you guys H0n0kA_LUV : Sunshine¡¯s great dude xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : fuk u guys, craig was the only cool guy here H0n0kA_LUV : It¡¯s a masterpiece in storytelling, the art¡¯s just fantastic and the music is comparable only the the best artists of the century Snakefucker : How old is craig Snakefucker : No way is he older than 12 xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : he told me he drives a porsche xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : and his tail is like 10 feet long Donut : Yeah and Im secretly the God-Mother. More likely than his story tbh JoX2_Diamond : Is it better than the first one LizardSquad : We¡¯ve been taking bets. Watson1990 : Uh, idk honestly Watson1990 : He¡¯s an adult tho H0n0kA_LUV : No. Nothing can beat my goddess Honoka Donut : You also into apes H0n0kA? Snakefucker : Shit LizardSquad : Lol. Pay up faggots. M3M3L0RD : Goddamn. H0n0kA_LUV : 2d is different dude H0n0kA_LUV : A 2d love exceeds race, gender and everything else Watson1990 : So what do you fags do on here H0n0kA_LUV : It¡¯s the most pure form of love there is Watson1990 : You talk and shit? LizardSquad : Pretty much. M3M3L0RD : Yeh. H0n0kA_LUV : Besides I don¡¯t want to even touch Honoka Snakefucker : Not doing anything rn tho LizardSquad : Yeah. Just chilling rn. H0n0kA_LUV : I have no right to even look at her directly JoX2_Diamond : Dear Great-Mother, H0n0kA Donut : Wew M3M3L0RD : Well besides those fags talking about anime H0n0kA_LUV : I would legit die of the arthritis of love if I got to hold her hands Watson1990 : Well that''s good Donut : You into anime Watson Donut : Hopefully not like that guy Watson1990 : I actually watched what he was talkin about Watson1990 : Maki was better tbh Watson1990 : But not really xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : lol what a losr H0n0kA_LUV : Oh fuck you faggot M3M3L0RD : Confirmed hit on the wasp¡¯s nest LizardSquad : Lol. H0n0kA_LUV : Don¡¯t even bring up that fucking trash whore Donut : We going back to doing nothing now Snakefucker : Still for fuck off newfag tbh but yeah Watson1990 : Well if we aint doing anything Watson1990 : You guys hear anything interesting lately? Watson1990 : Heard some gas station got blown up or something LizardSquad : Oh yeah, I got briefed on that. M3M3L0RD : Lol, someone blew up a gas station? Donut : Yeh that was in Nevada wasnt it Donut : The higher ups werent pleased about that Donut : Heard a drone controller got ¡®demoted¡¯ for negligence Snakefucker : Lol, that¡¯s pretty funny xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : was me tbh M3M3L0RD : We kicking the kid sometime or what LizardSquad : He got demoted ¡®cause he didn¡¯t record footage. LizardSquad : So we don¡¯t know who did it. Snakefucker : What a dumbass Snakefucker : Wanna go piss on his grave? Donut : It was a demotion, nothing else :^) Donut : Kinda stupid we dont know who it was LizardSquad : Well it was an old unit¡­ M3M3L0RD : You figure it was one of those assholes Snakefucker : Who LizardSquad : You mean those resistance faggots? Snakefucker : Lol, those guys? Watson1990 : Resistance? M3M3L0RD : You don¡¯t know? LizardSquad : A pack of especially brainded apes making my job legit frustrating. LizardSquad : Buncha ingrates really. They don¡¯t get shit done. Snakefucker : You sound pretty pissed lol LizardSquad : Well you''re not the asshole who has to clean up their shit. Watson1990 : Tell me more.
Watson stared in awe- for somehow, he was looking at degeneracy manifest. Jones had been typing away at his keyboard in his ¡®friend¡¯s basement for the last two days, only getting up to empty his piss bottles and occasionally use the toilet. Piles and piles of emptied hot pocket boxes were piling up, high into the skies- that being the blue, moldy ceiling. Someway, somehow, a somewhat respectable person had turned into a fat slob within minutes. Was this the power of the internet? In a way, this was seriously impressive. He estimated that going at the current pace, Jones would die of heart attack within one or two months. This being America, obviously not a record. But he didn¡¯t want that to happen, as much as Jones had slighted him for¡­ Well¡­ The entire period of their acquaintanceship. He lightly tapped Jones on the shoulder. With a gasp, Jones leaped forward, performing his most acrobatic act in the last 72 hours. ¡°Holy shit!¡± Jones yelled, as he turned back, panting in shock. ¡°Um, Jones?¡± Watson muttered, stepping back. ¡°You¡­ Ok?¡± ¡°The hell, Watson?¡± Jones responded, glaring at his opponent. ¡°You startled the shit outta me.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been sitting there for the last six hours.¡± Watson said. ¡°Your¡­ Bottles¡­ Are full, and you peed inside my school albums box.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s full of trash, so I thought it¡¯s a recycling box.¡± Jones answered with an annoyed tone. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°I had copies, so it¡¯s¡­ Fine, but are you sure this is healthy?¡± Watson asked in kind. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re doing on that thing. It looks to me like you¡¯re just¡­ Chatting with people.¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m doing, idiot. It¡¯s called ¡®networking¡¯.¡± Jones snapped. ¡°O...k. It¡¯s always either that, or you¡¯re¡­ Playing that¡­ Game? You called it dirt.¡± Watson claimed, looking weirdly at Jones. ¡°MUD. I¡¯ve been grinding my Lizardman Barbarian. It¡¯s a true multiplayer experience, and is exactly as good as actual human contact.¡± Jones proclaimed proudly. ¡°Well, but they aren¡¯t human, are they?¡± Watson asked, his eyes rolling. ¡°Look, I usually don¡¯t meddle with your things, Jones, but you should take a break.¡± ¡°Yeah, thanks, mom, but I¡¯m busy working, you see?¡± Jones replied, tapping his foot in annoyance. ¡°Seriously, just leave me alone.¡± ¡°You know what, Jones? I think I should plug this out.¡± Watson said, motioning towards the power outlet. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t fucking dare.¡± Jones said. He stood up in anger and began staring him down. ¡°He-Hey. Look, it¡¯s my house, and¡­ You¡¯re really worrying me. You¡¯ve been sleeping in a bed of pizza boxes, for christ¡¯s sake!¡± Watson mumbled, averting his gaze. ¡°Hmph.¡± Jones puffed. ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯ll get off the computer.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Watson asked. ¡°You will?¡± ¡°I¡¯m waiting for a boss respawn, anyways.¡± Jones claimed, yawning. ¡°Just don¡¯t turn off the computer.¡± ¡°No idea what that means, but sure.¡± Watson exhaled in relief. ¡°Tell me about the stuff you found out later, by the way.¡± ¡°Yeah- well, you know what? Lemme just give you the run-down now.¡± Jones said, stretching his arms out. ¡°Oh, sure.¡± ¡°Basically, there¡¯s a resistance group.¡± Jones explained. ¡°A group of humans, going against the system. The lizardmen don¡¯t know their size, and are having some trouble tracking them down.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Excellent news?¡± Watson asked. ¡°Is that a question or a statement? It¡¯s a good thing, yes, but we need to know if we can trust them.¡± Jones began shuffling upstairs. ¡°I¡¯m going to shower and sleep.¡± ¡°Yeah, go ahead¡­¡± Watson mumbled, lost in thought. As Watson watched Jones sleepily stumble up the stairs, dragging the faint odor of Redbull behind him, smearing the railing with the cheesy yellow dust of Cheetos, he turned his attention to the computer. What once was a workbench had been converted into a garbage mound, stacks of instant noodles and packs of crisps covering the hardwood. The computer emitted a pale blue glow, and on the screen was an array of ASCII characters, only a couple sets making sense to Watson. Level, HP, MP¡­ What could they mean? Besides that, tucked neatly into the background was the chat client Jones had been busy with. He clicked on it, curiously glancing at the scrolling chatlogs. Then, a sudden bleep caught his eye. Suddenly, a symbol of a letter popped up in the corner. Watson quickly clicked, wanting to know what that meant. PM. A window said. What did that mean? Message from xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx. An odd choice in names, Watson thought. But he¡¯d been taught not to judge other cultures just based on names and appearances. Maybe that meant something really nice in Lizard-ish? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Hey. That line scrolled past. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You there, Watson1990? Watson blinked, understanding that he was being addressed. Fumbling about, he figured out how to reply. He henpecked letter for letter as fast as he could. Watson1990: Yes s I ¡® m herE. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Uh, you alright? Watson1990: I¡¯ m fine th anks for askingg. How a bout you?? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Is this someone else? Watson panicked and typed as fast as he could. Watson1990 : fkvjxkgDjkcNo. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : It is, isn¡¯t it? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You know what? That¡¯s better. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : I need you to listen. Bewildered, Watson henpecked with more speed and precision. Watson1990 : Why? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : I have an important suggestion for you¡­ xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : I¡¯m an undercover agent. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Supposed to monitor idiots on chatgroups. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Make sure they don¡¯t act funny. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Those idiots aren¡¯t better than humans, I swear. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : They really think the higher-ups don¡¯t know about LizardBBS¡­ xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Listen, I know you¡¯re a human. Watson¡¯s eyes grew wide as he processed the implications of this message. Watson1990 : N o I¡¯ mm noot. wh At make s you say thhat? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You aren¡¯t fooling me. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You didn¡¯t know some things you should¡­ xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : But knew other things you shouldn¡¯t. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Besides, I looked up where that Craig kid was working. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : And I found you, Watson, born in 1990, working there. Watson cursed silently under his breath, knowing that he¡¯d be forgiven this one time. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Usually, you realize we¡¯d have you beheaded by now, right? Watson bit on his fingernails as he nervously waited for a reply. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : But I have an offer¡­ xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Look, I want a promotion. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : And if I hand over the rebels on a silver platter¡­ xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Good chances, don¡¯t you think? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : But I¡¯m no Chameleon. I can¡¯t blend in. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : That¡¯s where you come in. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You¡¯re human, so they¡¯ll accept you, probably. Awed by the proposition, he pecked furiously. Watson1990 : Whaht? I can ¡®t do thatt!!! xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Well, I do know where you live¡­ xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Listen to the whole offer first. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : If you give me what I want? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You¡¯ll live a good life. A normal one, I guarantee you. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You don¡¯t? Well¡­ Let¡¯s just say you may get a visit. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : I mean, do you really want to do this? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You understand? Watson gulped. He considered that question, pondering about the events of the last two weeks. His normal life...? Watson1990 : I undersstand. Watson1990 : What d o you want me to do?? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : I¡¯ll send you a tracker, nothing obvious. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : It¡¯s going to be a pen. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Simple to use. If you turn it slightly and click¡­ xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : It¡¯ll send the location to me. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : You find them, you give me their location. Watson stared at the monitor and resolved himself. Watson1990 : o K. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Good, you¡¯re a smart human. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Nice to meet one of those. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Was the guy using this computer before you Watson? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : What¡¯s your name? Watson took a while to answer, especially pondering upon Jones¡¯s advice- not to use real names, right? Aliases¡­ What wouldn¡¯t they expect? Watson1990 : Jones. It ¡®s Jones. It was really only fair. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Alright, Jones. Delete this chatlog now. xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Wouldn¡¯t want your partner to find out, right? xXx_uR_mUm5_slit_xXx : Good luck. Chapter 5 - Code Green For Entry 1 The morning dew tinged with the bright orange of the rising sun. Sounds of chirping, sounds of creaking, and the silent whispers of the breeze softly seeped into the Watson household. Americans everywhere began rousing awake from their slumber, hankering down for just another five, no, thirty minutes of sleep, and Watson certainly was one to conform. The warm bed was simply too alluring- as comfortable as a woman¡¯s embrace, his grandfather would say. Not that he would know. But suddenly, a hand crawled up, snuggling itself right along his body. Warm. Who could it belong to? Many exciting possibilities entered Watson¡¯s mind as it slowly rose and rose, nestling itself comfortably around Watson¡¯s neck. He smiled, but not for too long, as the grip began tightening. Frantically, he reached for it, finding it coming loose on its own volition. ¡°Ah!¡± Watson croaked, gasping for air. His vision cleared to find Jones standing next to him. Jones was dressed in All-American gear. Well, All-Chinese, if going by producer. Wearing a cheap black leather jacket, a Harley-Davidson-Fanclub bandana and a pair of gloves with the fingertips cut off, he stared at Watson in irritation. ¡°Finally.¡± Jones muttered discontently. ¡°I was thinking about leaving you behind.¡± ¡°Leaving me behind for what?¡± Watson complained, still coughing. He noticed a rather stuffed backpack lying on the floor. ¡°Weren¡¯t you listening last night?¡± Jones sighed. ¡°You spiked my drink with moonshine!¡± Watson yelled, having regained his voice. ¡°You told me it was some bitter herbal extract!¡± ¡°Ack, it wasn¡¯t even that strong. It was just a small cupfull or two, you pansy.¡± Jones replied, rolling his eyes. ¡°So you don¡¯t remember anything, huh?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m hoping these aren¡¯t memories, but dreams.¡± Watson replied, still haughty about the situation. ¡°Um, I didn¡¯t actually clog my toilet, did I?¡± ¡°Bad news for you. But don¡¯t bother with it right now.¡± Jones dismissed. ¡°I¡¯ll cut it short. We¡¯re going to go find the resistance.¡± ¡°The- resistance?¡± Watson gasped. ¡°But you told me we only know that they work around the Nevada region, that¡¯s huge!¡± ¡°True, true.¡± Jones accepted. ¡°The lizards have trouble with em¡¯, that¡¯s for sure. But you see, I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± ¡°What would that be?¡± ¡°Well, I understand revolutionaries. They¡¯re a well-studied species.¡± Jones replied quickly. ¡°And most types are drawn to this magical leaf like flies to shit.¡± Jones pulled out a large bag of weed. ¡°Uh, Jones?¡± Watson said, staring at the bulging package. ¡°Where did you find that?¡± ¡°Well, remember that Hot Topic clerk who gave you his number?¡± Jones explained proudly. ¡°I called em¡¯ up. He sold me this for cheap when I gave him your shower pictures.¡± ¡°What shower pictures?¡± Watson asked innocently. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that.¡± Jones changed the topic. ¡°Anyways, I was originally going to burn some Bob Marley disks and print out a Che Guevara poster, but they don¡¯t exist here.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Basically their Jesus...es. If Jesus smoked weed and shot commie AK¡¯s, that is.¡± Jones replied. ¡°A-ny-ways. Let¡¯s get back on the topic. Get dressed, Watson, we¡¯re leaving before the wageslaves get going.¡± ¡°Um¡­ Can you look away?¡± Watson mumbled shamefully. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m in my underwear.¡± Watson fidgeted around. ¡°Watson, I¡¯ve seen the pictures. It¡¯s not impressive, but don¡¯t be shy.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°Um¡­ Do you guys over there also have, uh, Morning-?¡± Watson said, before being cut short. ¡°Alright, stop. I¡¯m going.¡± Jones answered, quickly turning around. ¡°I overestimated you. Forget unimpressive. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Jones heard Watson yell, ¡°Sorry for what?¡±, as he walked down the stairs into the living room.
The living room was cluttered to hell with objects of all kinds and origins. Knives were laid on the ground, with measurements written in some kind of hierarchy. Boxes and drawers had been plundered, and Watson found quite a few very familiar items ripped and torn. ¡°Jones!¡± Watson shouted. ¡°What is this?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been packing, I told you.¡± Jones lazily replied, playing with his old lego set. ¡°You¡­ For one bag?¡± Watson uttered in disbelief. ¡°No, two bags.¡± Jones answered, throwing Watson a Dora the Explorer bag. ¡°Dora, really? Watson, at least watch Pok¨¦mon.¡± ¡°What is this?¡± Watson asked, flabbergasted. ¡°This is my bag from elementary.¡± ¡°Yeah, and now it¡¯s your travel bag.¡± Jones stated. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Well, nobody¡¯s going to search a Dora the Explorer bag for weed.¡± Jones answered. ¡°Besides, I kinda¡­ Uh, ripped your other good one while trying to fit in my machete.¡± ¡°What mache- wait, is that why my lawnmower was disassembled yesterday?¡± Watson questioned. ¡°I thought you wouldn¡¯t notice. But yeah.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°But hey, good news, I¡¯ve made one for you too!¡± ¡°Yeah, I noticed. ¡° Watson said, pointing at the sharp object ripping through the side of the bag. ¡°Don¡¯t be so mad about this, Watson.¡± Jones lousily demanded. ¡°Look, if all goes well, we won¡¯t even have to come back!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave my home!¡± Watson yelled. ¡°Well, I won¡¯t have to come back. You happy?¡± Jones yielded with a tiny hint of disappointment. ¡°You think- You know what? Alright, fine.¡± Watson agreed, holding back. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then.¡± ¡°Wait a sec.¡± Jones said, holding out an admittedly well-made piece of leather craftwork. ¡°Take this.¡± ¡°What is this?¡± Watson asked, surprised by the gesture. ¡°It¡¯s a holster. Here, for your gun.¡± Jones awkwardly shuffled out the Colt. ¡°Well, your grandfather¡¯s. I polished it up a bit and oiled the chamber.¡± ¡°I thought you said there weren¡¯t any bullets.¡± Watson replied, slightly touched by the gesture. ¡°There¡¯re a lot more reasons to have a gun than just shoot.¡± Jones replied, standing up. ¡°Now get dressed. Practical is best. I¡¯ve put in some spares in your bag, so don¡¯t worry about it. Your trunk¡¯s loaded up with everything else we need.¡± Watson complied silently, not bothering to ask where Jones got his car keys.
The journey had been uneventful. Watson¡¯s new (used) British Leyland car got a couple insults out of Jones, but all in all- they simply spent the hours-long journey arguing about music, turning the radio from station to station to find some middle ground. Nothing special. It was when they arrived at a small, unassuming town, bordering close to the desert, that any excitement was to be found. ¡°So, uh, Jones?¡± Watson asked nervously. ¡°How¡¯s this going to work out?¡± ¡°Watch and learn.¡± Jones explained. ¡°I¡¯m going to peddle some weed.¡± ¡°You know¡­¡± Watson questioned. ¡°Will you explain someday how you know how to do¡­ All of this stuff? From car repairs, to leather working, and now drug dealing?¡± ¡°I lived alone for a while, Watson, I told you.¡± Jones dismissed. ¡°You always say that¡­¡± Watson trailed off, as he eyes Jones stepping out of the car. ¡°Where¡¯re you going?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to sell this to highschool kids.¡± Jones smiled. ¡°Uh, you sure that¡¯s¡­ Well, right?¡± Watson fidgeted. ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­¡± ¡°Trust me, Watson, they¡¯ll be huffing glue if not weed.¡± Jones explained. ¡°Either that or Jenkem. Don¡¯t worry too much. There¡¯s a reason for this.¡± ¡°And that would be?¡± Watson asked. ¡°You start with the highschoolers.¡± Jones laid out. ¡°Then they¡¯ll spread the info like a wildfire. We just gotta stay in a motel for about two days, and we¡¯ll be able to find someone in the know.¡± ¡°...Alright. So, you¡¯ll come back to the inn we agreed upon?¡± Watson questioned. ¡°Yeah. Sure. Make sure the minibar¡¯s stocked. This time, I can actually pay back.¡± Jones replied, holding up the Dora the Explorer bag. ¡°Wish me luck. See ya later.¡± ¡°Good luck.¡± Watson replied, rolling his window down and driving off. Watching Jones grow smaller in the distance, he began feeling for his chest pocket, where an unassuming grey pen was slotted. It had been a gift, delivered to him by mail. He breathed heavily, uncomfortably, as he felt very faint electronic vibrations coming off of the pen.
Three days had passed since Jones put his plan into motion. Watson had to hand it to him- the man did do his work rather efficiently. It was just the approach, the method, the materials- well, the everything, besides the efficiency, that irked him a bit. Especially since that involved a heavily tattooed, blue mohawked scrawny kid, gagged and bound, shuffling in his back seat, as he drove off into the desert. ¡°We¡¯re almost at that place the¡­ Kid told us they would be at, Jones.¡± Watson said, stealing a glance at their prisoner. ¡°Finally.¡± Jones said. He was entertaining their¡­ Guest? With card tricks in the back. ¡°I was getting bored. Hey, pick a card, kid.¡± The kid pointed at the middle card with his mohawk. ¡°Heh, an ace of spades? Well, lemme shuffle this into the deck-¡± Jones started, but was interrupted, as Watson punched the brakes. ¡°What the hell, Watson?¡± ¡°Jones, look ahead!¡± Watson shouted. Behind the thin veil of a dusty sand cloud, silhouettes of revolution were standing upright. Well¡­ They looked a bit more like a metal band, as the air cleared up. Also, they were holding up rifles. Not good.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Jones swiftly kicked the door open and dragged the kid out. On closer examination, the revolutionaries definitely looked more like punk rockers than anything else. Their hairstyles were all varying degrees of wild, especially in terms of colors, and their tattered clothing and sheathed lead pipes said enough about their approach to diplomacy. The modified humvee definitely helped that image. ¡°Jesus christ. Mad Max knockoffs? I thought this kid was just special.¡± Jones mumbled, before clearing his throat. ¡°Alright, hey, you guys! Stand down! We¡¯re friendly.¡± ¡°What do you mean, asshole?¡± The pink-haired one yelled. ¡°You¡¯re holding Lil¡¯ Jay over there hostage, you think we¡¯re gonna buy that?¡± ¡°He ain¡¯t a hostage, Fl-Amigo. Here, have em¡¯ back!¡± Jones shouted, cutting Jay but small free in the process. ¡°We just had a bit of a rough time getting to an agreement.¡± ¡°He spiked my drink with alcohol!¡± Lil¡¯ Jay cautioned, limping back towards his buddies. ¡°He told me he scored some legit rare drugs, the asshole!¡± ¡°What, would you have preferred roofies, you retard?¡± Jones complained. ¡°You wanna wake up with an Hotwheels up your ass? I didn¡¯t lie, did I, dumbass?¡± ¡°The hell, asshole?¡± Another one, this time a wild green-haired, yelled. ¡°Alright, alright, I¡¯ll stop with the insults.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°We¡¯re here to talk. Let¡¯s not start doing the shooty-shooty, alright?¡± ¡°And why should we do that?¡± Flamingo yelled. ¡°We¡¯ve got the guns here. Fuck off!¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Jones smirked, pointing at Watson. ¡°I¡¯ve got fuckin¡¯ Billy the Kid right here. Hey Billy, show off your gun, will ya?¡± Watson looked at Jones with horror, startled by the confrontation. He pulled out his pistol, fidgeted around with it, and aimed towards their assailants. Their disappointment was very visible. ¡°Goddamnit, Watson.¡± Jones said. ¡°Anyways. We¡¯re not here to fight. Just talk. C¡¯mon, guys, can¡¯t we have a little chit-chat? Preferably with someone more important.¡± ¡°Why should we do that?¡± The green one yelled. ¡°Well, boys, I¡¯ve got an offer you just can¡¯t refuse¡­¡± Jones muttered loudly, searching his Dora the Explorer bag. ¡°This beautiful bag, that is.¡± Jones pulled out a visibly very full bag of a very green, very smelly substance. The Dropout Brothers Jaws slacked. ¡°Is that¡­¡± ¡°Yes, yes it is. Order now, and get this for free, too.¡± Jones smiled, pulling out some old-fashioned Playboy mags and a bottle of Whiskey. ¡°I¡¯m willing to hand these over.¡± The Punk Quartet had a brief discussion, but they began lowering their guns to hip-height. ¡°Alright, asshole. You got a deal.¡± Flamingo yelled. ¡°But you hand over that pistol. We¡¯re searching you for firearms, too.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry much about that pistol. Chinese knockoff Billy¡¯s got no bullets in his chamber.¡± Jones yelled back, signing Watson to show his magazine and unloaded gun. ¡°Still gotta check, dude. Look, we¡¯ll put our guns away once we¡¯re done, too.¡± The green-hair shouted. ¡°Alright, alright. But don¡¯t touch me too inappropriately, will ya?¡± Jones compromised.
The Dropout Brothers led Jones and Watson into a century-old basement of a long-forgotten diner. The cement steps were cracked with age, and cobwebs streaked the corners. Yet the steps were obviously well-trodden, proven by the dusty footprints left everywhere. While not held at gunpoint, the danger of a firefight was always present, the Punk Quartet still holding their loaded firearms at hip height. ¡°Um, Jones?¡± Watson asked, shivering. ¡°You¡­ Sure we can trust them?¡± ¡°Well¡­ Not really, but they¡¯d have shot us in the desert if they weren¡¯t even a little reliable.¡± Jones whispered. ¡°Besides, why would they bring us all the way to their secret base if they just wanted our shit?¡± ¡°I mean, you have a point¡­¡± Watson said, looking at their guns. ¡°I¡¯m still not feeling very¡­ Comfortable.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t, really.¡± Jones answered. ¡°Alright- guys. Be quiet. You¡¯re about to enter our base.¡± Flamingo said, as he opened a well-barred door. What lay behind that door was behind Jones- and certainly Watson¡¯s- wildest imaginations. Instead of some crappy basement full of stoners and wannabe gangsters, they found an elaborate, wide-spaced plaza, connecting to multiple tunnels. As they passed through the door, they found it labelled as ¡®Entrance 5A¡¯. Watson stared at the operation in awe, as dozens of workers passed by, staring at the newcomers with amusement. They were dressed in all manners of clothing, not just Fallout-esque cosplay. They were led through a series of rooms, each bigger than the people they contained. Jones estimated a population of around a hundred, although that could be reaching quite far. Many facilities were of note- a garage, medical center, cafeteria, a generator room¡­ Soon, they entered a strategic room. Crude, but oddly reminiscent of a WWI era operation. In the middle was a hardwood desk, a map of America with several pins attached to it laid out. A woman stood behind that desk, speaking with a bunch of NPC¡¯s. She looked quite a bit more important than everyone else, sporting a nice, purple beret, and a series of self-made badges attached to milsurp attire. Her long, auburn hair was pinned nicely under the cap, and her eyes told enough of her character. ¡°Sorry to interrupt, Sir!¡± The Dropout Brothers saluted with a V formed with their fingers. ¡°We¡¯ve brought, uh, prisoners, to have a word with you.¡± ¡°I¡¯d prefer ¡®guests of honor¡¯.¡± Jones mumbled. ¡°Anyways, we¡¯ve found them in the desert, and after a small chat, we decided to bring the two to you, Sir.¡± Flamingo took the initiative. ¡°They said that they wished to talk to you.¡± ¡°Good job. I¡¯ll take them from here.¡± She curtly replied. ¡°Get back to your stations, now. Hey, Luke? I expect a status report about the perimeter before 7, ok?¡± ¡°Yes, Sir!¡± The four replied, saluted, and left. She quickly turned her attention towards the two. Jones grinned and stretched his hand out. ¡°Pleasure to meet you. The name¡¯s Jones. Yours?¡± ¡°No handshakes- I¡¯ve no idea what you¡¯re up to.¡± She declared. ¡°But the name¡¯s Lisa. Lisa Smith. What about your friend here?¡± ¡°Uh, I¡¯m- Connor. Connor Watson.¡± Watson quickly bowed. ¡°Just call me Watson. Pleasure to meet you.¡± ¡°Wow, someone competent. I like that.¡± Jones sneezed. ¡°Quite a fancy operation you¡¯ve got down here.¡± ¡°One-of-a-kind, I¡¯m sure.¡± Lisa smiled confidently. ¡°So, Jones, Watson, what brings the two of you here? Do you wish to join the revolution?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been revolting for quite some while.¡± Jones smirked. ¡°Just trying to get a good grasp on my allies, if you understand.¡± ¡°Have you now.¡± Lisa maintained her smile, just a couple degrees colder. ¡°I¡¯d be thrilled to hear about it. But you aren¡¯t here just for introductions, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Know your neighbours, right? Ancient American proverb.¡± Jones continued. ¡°But no. I hear we have common goals, and work¡¯s always better shared.¡± ¡°I agree, but I¡¯d emphasize on that word- ¡®know¡¯, a bit more.¡± Lisa replied, now neutral. ¡°I don¡¯t know you two. Hell, I¡¯m not even sure if those dumbasses checked you for weapons thoroughly. I can see that pistol poking out, you know.¡± ¡°It¡¯s- It¡¯s empty.¡± Watson muttered fearfully, pulling out the gun, inciting the others in the room to react in response. ¡°Hold on, cowboy-¡± Lisa stepped forward, and pulled the pistol out of Watson¡¯s hand. ¡°Lemme check. Huh, it¡¯s really empty¡­¡± ¡°Told ya so.¡± Jones yawned. ¡°Let¡¯s get over the chit-chat. We¡¯re here to help, Lisa.¡± ¡°Help?¡± She swatted eyelids in distrust, whilst handing over the weapon back. ¡°I¡¯ve known you two for the last minute. Most offers don¡¯t roll in that easily, you know.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. Brainwashing and all that. But we¡¯re offering you a meal on a platter, aren¡¯t we?¡± Jones maintained. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine overtaking a government with only a hundred men. The more, the merrier.¡± ¡°Whoever told you it was only a hundred men?¡± Lisa smirked. ¡°But I agree. Only problem is, I can¡¯t just trust you like that. As you said, competent.¡± ¡°Give us a chance to prove ourselves, then.¡± Jones smiled. ¡°I think that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯ll do. But we don¡¯t have anything planned for the moment.¡± She responded. ¡°In the meantime, why don¡¯t you two look around?¡± ¡°Guess there¡¯s not much else to do.¡± Jones accepted. ¡°Uh, if we aren¡¯t imposing here¡­¡± Watson mumbled. ¡°Hey, Ben, you take that guy-¡± Lisa pointed at Jones. ¡°For a tour, will ya?¡± Ben saluted, and exited with Jones, who turned slightly confused towards Watson, but was soon out of sight.
¡°Um¡­ What about me?¡± Watson asked, fiddling his thumbs. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a guide. Personally.¡± Lisa said, smiling. ¡°And why don¡¯t we have a little chat? You look quite a bit more courteous than your friend over there.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ Thanks?¡± Watson said, bewildered by the proposition. ¡°Watson, was it?¡± Lisa asked, leading him. A handful of armed men trailed along. ¡°Y-yes. Connor Watson, uh¡­ Sir.¡± He awkwardly replied. ¡°Drop the Sir, Watson. You aren¡¯t my subordinate yet.¡± She turned to meet his eyes, which he averted. ¡°Call me Lisa. Most do, honestly. Just not when we need some professionalism.¡± ¡°Thanks, Lisa.¡± Watson said, breathing out. ¡°We¡¯re going to be taking a small detour from your friend.¡± She explained. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I just wanted to talk to you- alone. He¡¯s a bit too stuffy.¡± ¡°Thanks¡­?¡± He uttered, unsure of what to say. ¡°I think I know what you mean.¡± ¡°Intense, isn¡¯t he?¡± Lisa muttered, leading him along the narrow corridor. ¡°I prefer simple.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Watson sighed. ¡°Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.¡± ¡°Good to know we agree.¡± She flashed a smirk, as they stepped out into a large room. ¡°This is the cafeteria. It¡¯s mostly just canned beans and sludge, so don¡¯t expect too much.¡± ¡°I mean¡­ It doesn¡¯t look too bad?¡± Watson tried to find something nice to say, but the room was definitely not a place he¡¯d be comfortable eating in. ¡°Don¡¯t bother looking for positives. We all know it¡¯s shit.¡± Lisa coughed. ¡°Especially the guys making it. I swear, Louis tries his best to make it bad¡­¡± ¡°I see.¡± Watson awkwardly replied. ¡°Not used to this military-style thing, are you, Watson?¡± She asked. ¡°No. Never been in the military, not even close¡­¡± Watson answered. ¡°Not a big surprise, honestly. What about your friend?¡± Lisa questioned. ¡°Jones, was it?¡± ¡°Yes, Jones.¡± Watson affirmed. ¡°Uh¡­ probably not? I asked him about it. He said he¡¯d never been¡­¡± ¡°I see.¡± Lisa nodded, and led him to the next room. ¡°These are the generators. Well, the backups. The mains I can¡¯t show you. Classified.¡± ¡°Wow. They¡¯re huge.¡± Watson said, feeling very stupid. ¡°I know. Not really interesting otherwise, except for the nerds. Good going there, James!¡± She yelled, waving across the room. ¡°So¡­¡± Watson started. ¡°What do you do, exactly?¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯re called the Revolution, Watson. I¡¯m sure you can hazard a guess.¡± She smirked. ¡°I get that, but Jones just told me about some, uh, car bombings?¡± Watson fidgeted. ¡°Ah. Well, we protest. Very loudly. And we try to take care of some of these lizard bastards, but¡­¡± She trailed off. ¡°They¡¯re very hard to deal with.¡± ¡°Oh. We¡¯ve experience with that too.¡± Watson sympathised. ¡°They¡¯re really scary.¡± ¡°Had trouble running away?¡± Lisa chuckled. ¡°Well, I did. But Jones was there, thankfully.¡± Watson shrugged. ¡°Wish he was more thoughtful.¡± ¡°So¡­ Jones took care of them, did he?¡± She asked, slowing down in her steps, leaning in a bit. ¡°Yeah. Both times.¡± Watson replied. ¡°Both times? So two lizardmen¡­¡± Lisa mumbled. ¡°Impressive.¡± ¡°Um, technically four.¡± Watson corrected. ¡°We fought this¡­ Weird robot-lizard first, then a group of guards. He saved me. Well, I doubt I¡¯d have gotten in trouble alone in the first place¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s the mini-garden, by the way.¡± Lisa mentioned. ¡°But continue. What¡¯d he do?¡± ¡°He blew up the robot with a gas station. And my Cadillac!¡± Watson groaned. ¡°And the other two, he flashbanged. Kinda hit me too. The third, he tied up.¡± ¡°Incredible¡­¡± Lisa pondered. ¡°How¡¯d you meet a guy like that, anyways?¡± ¡°He showed up in the middle of the desert¡­ I got stuck with him, in a way.¡± Watson absentmindedly explained. ¡°So he just showed up out of nowhere?¡± Lisa asked, befuddled. ¡°Where does he live?¡± ¡°He said he lived in an RV, so¡­ Well, it¡¯s complicated. He told me to shut up about it.¡± Watson remembered. ¡°Ah¡­ He won¡¯t be too happy.¡± ¡°So nowhere. Hmm¡­¡± She pondered. They exited then into the main plaza. ¡°This is the plaza. The heart of our operation.¡± Lisa proudly explained, stretching her arms out. ¡°In these walls, the names of our fallen are engraved. Dead they may be, but their spirits will always be with us, in our heart.¡± She continued, her eyes sparkling with duty. ¡°Incredible¡­¡± Watson mumbled, looking at the dozens of names etched into the walls. ¡°It¡¯s chronological. Some of the first are over here¡­¡± She lead Watson towards the central wall. ¡°Here, the name of our founder. My father, John Doe.¡± ¡°And some other prominent, first-generations¡­ First death, Lewis Armstrong. James May. Ronnie Rob. Archie Watson. Dick Long¡­¡± She continued. ¡°Wait.¡± Watson said. ¡°Repeat that last one, please.¡± ¡°Long Dick?¡± ¡°No, the second last¡­¡± He hurried. ¡°Archie Watson?¡± She asked. ¡°Yes. Archie- Watson? Um¡­ Do you perhaps know if he was British?¡± Watson demanded with urgency. ¡°Uh, yes. I¡¯ve heard he moved here during the Second World War¡­¡± She answered, a bit shaken. ¡°No way¡­¡± He exhaled. ¡°This can¡¯t be.¡± ¡°What, Watson? Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡± Lisa asked. Watson handed her his pistol, his hands shaking. ¡°Look at the engraving.¡± ¡°Archie Watson. Fighter for Freedom.¡± She read aloud, astonished. ¡°Your relative?¡± ¡°They told me¡­ They told me he died in a car accident!¡± Watson yelled in disbelief. ¡°This¡­ It can¡¯t be right.¡± Lisa held his shoulder tight. ¡°They told you? Who did?¡± ¡°My grandfather used to leave for business trips¡­ Usually unannounced.¡± Watson explained, choking up. ¡°He didn¡¯t come back for a while one time. Police Officers said he¡¯d been¡­ Involved in an accident.¡± ¡°My condolences.¡± She saluted him. ¡°But it seems to me that you¡¯ve been fed a lie.¡± ¡°But-¡± He quibbled. ¡°Him? A revolutionary¡­?¡± ¡°I didn''t know the man well myself, Watson.¡± She claimed. ¡°But¡­ He was a kind man. Someone worth mourning.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s quite a bit to take in.¡± Watson leaned against the stone wall. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright. I¡¯d imagine that to be the case.¡± Lisa smiled, and sat him down. ¡°If it helps you any, he died a brave man. I¡¯ve asked him once, in his old age, if he¡¯s afraid¡­ But he smiled, and said, for the freedom of others, he¡¯d gladly die a dozen times over.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Watson replied. ¡°Could I perhaps have a sip of tea?¡± ¡°No, but we do serve gruel.¡± She smirked. ¡°Just joking. That helps, right? I¡¯ll get you some Camomille.¡± Watson sat, feeling quite lonely, indeed, as Lisa and her subordinates hurriedly left for the cafeteria. Feeling his chest pocket, the pen still buzzing ever so softly, he felt more alone than he ever had before. Chapter 6 - Code Green For Entry 2 Tick, tock. Beep, boop. Step by step, beat by beat, sounds of progress echoed throughout the many halls of the resistance without halt. The structure was indeed very impressive; especially once one had enough time to take it all in. Many, many caves and routes led into twisted, winding hallways of stone, all labelled for practicality. These labels ranged from ¡®A-1¡¯ to ¡®M-8¡¯, as far as Watson could see, a small indication of the true size of the facility. Wires were run from wall to wall, ceiling from ceiling, and men and women of all vocations, but an equal sense of purpose, roamed the structure freely. Watson sat at the cafeteria, a rather large room with chairs and tables strewn about lazily. He sat at shady corner, sitting by a large bright-red wooden table, sipping on a cup of steaming Chamomile tea. He ruffled his hair in frustration and indecision, staring silently at the softly pulsing pen. Suddenly, Jones popped his head inside, followed by Lisa, the leader of the revolutionaries. He quickly tucked the pen inside his pocket. ¡°So here you are, Watson!¡± Jones yelled excitedly, waving his arm wildly. ¡°Damn. You look down in the dumps.¡± ¡°Eh¡­ Do I?¡± Watson asked, staring blankly at Jones. ¡°Yeah. You got that look in your eyes¡­ Same look you gave me after I blew up that shitty car.¡± Jones stated, contemplating. ¡°So¡­ Well, I¡¯ve heard from Lisa here what¡¯s been goin¡¯ on.¡± ¡°Did you now.¡± ¡°Yup. Good to hear, really- so your relatives weren¡¯t pussies after all. Didn¡¯t expect that from a Brit. But guess that means you¡¯ve got some hope too, huh?¡± Jones smirked, and patted Watson¡¯s back. Lisa punched Jones in the gut and coughed loudly. ¡°Ow! Jesus, woman. What do you want me to say to the guy? ¡®Hey Watson, sorry your grandpa got killed doing something good. You want a joint?¡¯¡± Jones asked, disgruntled. ¡°That¡¯s not gonna do shit-¡± She punched him again. Watson chortled slightly. ¡°Ow! I get it. Violent, aren¡¯t ya?¡± Jones exclaimed. ¡°Anyways¡­ I¡¯ve been on a tour, Watson. This is some amazing shit they got down here. Hell, they¡¯ve got an air hockey table!¡± ¡°Do they now¡­¡± Watson said, trailing off. He looked at Jones with a hint of amusement. ¡°Is that what you¡¯ve been up to?¡± ¡°Well, now you look slightly better. Not as good as me, obviously¡­¡± Jones chuckled. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve been lookin¡¯ around the place. Fantastic stuff. I think we can really get things going.¡± ¡°What stuff?¡± Watson asked, his voice tinged with a slight sense of guilt and worry. ¡°Breaking the Conditioning, obviously!¡± Jones triumphantly proclaimed, straightening his back to strike a fabulous pose. ¡°Any idea what he means by that, Mr. Watson?¡± Lisa interjected, grinning at Watson. ¡°He¡¯s told that to at least half our staff by now, I¡¯m certain.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ I¡¯m still not sure. Sorry.¡± Watson replied with a forced smile. ¡°He does say that often.¡± ¡°Because that¡¯s what we¡¯re gonna¡¯ do.¡± Jones stated with a smile. ¡°Anyways¡­ Let¡¯s get back on track. Watson, I- well, we- she insisted- are here to give you the good news.¡± ¡°What good news?¡± Watson asked in curiosity. ¡°They¡¯re takin¡¯ us out on a mission.¡± Jones excitedly answered. ¡°Something came up, apparently. She told me all about it.¡± ¡°Wh- what mission?¡± Watson stuttered. ¡°Let me explain.¡± Lisa stated with a professional demeanor. ¡°There was a scheduled strike on a possible Lizardman outpost to the northwest due tomorrow, but in light of current circumstances-¡± She glanced at Jones. ¡°We¡¯ve decided to push it ahead to¡­ 19:00 PDT. That¡¯s when nightfall should begin.¡± ¡°19:00 PDT? Isn¡¯t that in¡­¡± Watson counted. ¡°Three hours. Yes.¡± Lisa finished. ¡°We¡¯ll be ready by then. We expect you two to join us.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t that exciting, Watson?¡± Jones exclaimed, giving Lisa a stealthy glance. ¡°But- Um¡­¡± Watson stumbled over his own words. ¡°I mean¡­ I don¡¯t feel ready. Could I just¡­ sit this one out?¡± ¡°Well, Jones insisted that you¡¯d be made a part of the team. Rather strongly, in fact.¡± Lisa explained calmly. ¡°I agreed- I think you¡¯d make an excellent part of our unit, Mr. Watson. I agreed wholeheartedly in his assessment, and I too insist you join.¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± Watson shouted in disbelief. ¡°What value could I provide?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be such a spoilsport, Watson.¡± Jones patted Watson¡¯s back. ¡°I¡¯d really appreciate your backup.¡± ¡°Backup-? Do you realize what I¡¯ve-¡± Watson began preparing to argue. ¡°I¡¯m certain he¡¯d want you there for his safety.¡± Lisa addressed, cutting him short. ¡°And I¡¯ve heard the stories to understand your¡­ Indecision, but I insist rather strongly too. I believe in your potential, Mr. Watson.¡± ¡°What potential?¡± Watson continued, baffled by the proposition. ¡°You can¡¯t just force me to peddle along with you!¡± ¡°We¡¯re rather stuck with you coming along, Mr. Watson.¡± Lisa coldly explained. ¡°Jones said he¡¯d decline to join without you, and he is very much central to the operation.¡± ¡°So just take him! Or, we¡¯ll just both not go. Problem solved.¡± Watson argued desperately. He fidgeted nervously in place as he felt the pen continue to vibrate. ¡°Ack, come the hell on, Watson.¡± Jones shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s routine by now, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you get me started on that¡­¡± Watson mumbled. ¡°Look, Watson.¡± Lisa said, grabbing Watson by his arms. She stared deeply into his eyes. ¡°We need you. You¡¯ll be kept perfectly safe- I promise that much. And let me tell you¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯ll find this operation very much aligned to your interests.¡± She concluded with a reassuring smile. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Watson sighed. ¡°So I don¡¯t get a say in this.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Jones trailed off. ¡°So that¡¯s it then.¡± Watson resigned. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you.¡±
The small caravan looked like a mishmash dystopian novel rejects. A punked-up monster truck led the charge, a handful of completely impractical ramming spikes attached to the front. Roughly three dozen well-geared men sat within trucks painted in tacticool colors, the ¡®cool¡¯ part emphasized over the tactical. The revolutionaries themselves fared no better- from the Punk Quartet to a Three Musketeers fanclub, the entire set of fighters were dressed in outlandish outfits. It seemed nobody had received education about conspicuousness, but perhaps that was intentional. Nobody could differentiate them from a band of rebels and a bunch of Neckbeard LARPers, after all. Jones and Watson were following suit at the trail-end, both sitting uncomfortably in their cranky British Leyland car, their crummy old tires now switched out for ones suitable for the harsh desert planes. Jones had forcibly jolted the stereo up to the maximum, torturing many a poor souls with Watson¡¯s awful collection of music. Watson nervously tapped the steering wheel as he mindlessly followed the other cars. ¡°Finally. Some alone time.¡± Jones sighed, as he finished checking the car for bugs. ¡°Those freaks wouldn¡¯t let me out of their sights the entire time.¡± ¡°I can barely hear you.¡± Watson replied loudly. ¡°Can I crank down the stereo?¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s so that they can¡¯t hear us.¡± Jones explained. ¡°And maybe this¡¯ll pop their eardrums. God knows I wish it did.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Watson answered, confused. ¡°I thought you were getting along with them?¡± ¡°Ack, with those idiots? Please.¡± Jones snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t trust a single one of em¡¯.¡± ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Watson shouted, as the music crescendoed. ¡°Why would you make me go along with this, too, then?¡± ¡°I needed backup, obviously.¡± Jones yelled, as if it were the most natural answer in the world. ¡°I don¡¯t get your bitching, Watson. This ain¡¯t nearly as bad as the shit we¡¯ve already been through.¡± ¡°Well-¡± Watson started, feeling the pulsing in his chest pocket. ¡°I- just don¡¯t feel good about this stuff anymore.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be safe, Watson. Like you¡¯ve always been.¡± Jones said. ¡°Thanks.¡± Watson curtly replied, fidgeting around in his seat. ¡°So¡­ Why did you agree to this?¡± ¡°Well¡­ Actually, I needed to talk to you a bit about that.¡± Jones stated. ¡°Did you tell them anything about me?¡± ¡°Um¡­ A little bit. Like what we¡¯ve been fighting.¡± Watson recounted nervously. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t like the way they look at me.¡± Jones explained. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it plenty before. I¡¯m guessin¡¯ they don¡¯t trust me either.¡± ¡°What makes you say that?¡± ¡°They had someone shadow me into the shitter.¡± Jones confidently stated. ¡°I mean, how much more obvious does it get?¡± ¡°Um¡­ Are you sure it wasn¡¯t just a coincidence?¡± Watson questioned. ¡°Hell no! Besides, there¡¯s been at least one person following me, wherever I go.¡± Jones continued. ¡°This is legit the first time I get to speak to you alone since we arrived here.¡± ¡°So¡­ What do you mean by backup?¡± Watson asked nervously. ¡°Well¡­¡± Jones started. ¡°I don¡¯t trust these assholes, and I¡¯ve got some measures in place¡­¡± ¡°But I¡¯d feel more safe knowing someone¡¯s got my back.¡± Jones concluded. ¡°I¡¯m still pretty sure you ain¡¯t very trustable, either, but¡­ Here. It¡¯s a bullet.¡± Jones handed a single round of .45 ACP to Watson casually. Watson nearly crashed the car as he failed to catch the round and fumbled. ¡°How-?¡± ¡°It was on a table somewhere. I snatched it. Figured it¡¯d be useful, anyhow.¡± Jones grinned. ¡°It should fit your gun just right.¡± ¡°I, um¡­¡± Watson babbled on, averting Jones¡¯s gaze. ¡°I- um¡­ Don¡¯t¡­ Feel safe holding this.¡± ¡°Well, you better should get used to it, then.¡± Jones snorted. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have to load lots more in there sometime.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°Ack, stop complaining, Watson. At least hold on to the damn bullet. It won¡¯t explode in your face, I promise.¡± Watson grunted. ¡°Alright¡­¡± Watson replied, as he pulled out his well-holstered pistol, feeling the rough engraving of his grandfather as he gripped it tightly, feeling a tinge of guilt.
The caravan arrived at a faraway destination, a rather large cave opening protruding from an otherwise insignificant hillscape. There was nothing in the distance- nothing to be seen of note. This was truly in the middle of nowhere. The cave itself wasn¡¯t remarkable either. It was just a huge hole, big enough for the five cars to easily park inside, hidden from the outside as the entrance sloped downwards. The cave stretched on and on, the insides dark and dreary. Everyone stepped out of their cars, and Jones got a good look at the ensemble of clowns and idiots. All-in-all, decently well armed, with most carrying a rifle of sorts. He glanced around, looking alarmed as ever. He stuck with Watson. The duo followed as Lisa gestured them to stick behind her, and they slowly descended into the cave. A coupled of sentries were left behind. They marched onwards silently, as Jones kept glancing backwards every minute or two. All the other rejects followed behind the duo, intently gazing at their backs. Suddenly, Jones swiftly pulled out a crude pistol from his pants, and pointed it at Lisa¡¯s skull. Everyone besides Watson and Lisa instantly pointed their firearms at Jones, their eyes gleaming with malice and intent. Watson was too stunned to react and could only gape his mouth. Lisa turned around with an all-knowing grimace on her face. ¡°Finally, you show your true colors.¡± Lisa sighed, as she raised her hand up. She didn¡¯t look terribly disappointed- in fact, she seemed to be wholly prepared for this outcome. ¡°What-¡± Watson stuttered, choking on his own words in shock. ¡°Back to you, darling.¡± Jones smirked. ¡°I knew something was up. This ain¡¯t a base, is it? No guards posted outside¡­ No tire tracks in the sand. Not to mention the suspiciously small team you¡¯ve brought with you.¡± ¡°Well, the gig is up, isn¡¯t it?¡± Lisa chuckled. ¡°Great deduction. I give you fifteen points. I didn¡¯t expect the firearm, but you¡¯ve performed as expected.¡± ¡°Sort those to Ravenclaw.¡± Jones snorted. ¡°Tell your boys to always check under the ballsack.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°W- what¡¯s going on?¡± Watson finally brought out, reeling from the surprise. ¡°Well, basically¡­¡± Jones calmly explained. ¡°This bitch set us up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it.¡± Lisa sighed. ¡°Mr. Watson- do me a favor, and pay attention.¡± ¡°Me?¡± Watson asked in shock. ¡°Yes. Because this is going to be very important.¡± Lisa stared at Jones intently. ¡°You¡¯re perfectly safe, don¡¯t you worry. We¡¯re here because you¡¯ve been fed yet another lie.¡± ¡°And what would that be? His Cadillac was secretly a chinese knockoff?¡± Jones chuckled, keeping his weapon raised. ¡°We¡¯re here to reveal the identity of this Jones.¡± Lisa said with disgust. ¡°He¡¯s a spy.¡± ¡°What?¡± Watson asked, dumbfounded by the revelation. Jones stared blankly at Lisa, himself surprised at this revelation. ¡°Yes. Think about it, Watson!¡± She claimed vigorously. ¡°A stranger without a last name shows up in the middle of the desert, fully knowing all about the enemy¡¯s existence. No ID, no residence, and no papers¡­¡± ¡°And armed with enough knowledge to make bombs, flashbangs, connect to the Lizardmen network¡­¡± She continued confidently. ¡°Don¡¯t you smell the rat?¡± ¡°What the fuck are you smoking?¡± Jones yelled, his finger twitching. ¡°Have you forgotten the part where I killed three of the Lizardmen fuckers?¡± ¡°A small sacrifice to snuff out the resistance.¡± She scoffed. ¡°You think we haven¡¯t encountered your kind before, Vermin? This isn¡¯t the first time we¡¯ve fought a Chameleon.¡± ¡°A¡­ Chameleon?¡± Watson asked, befuddled. ¡°Yes. A Chameleon. Shapeshifter Lizards. Their top spies.¡± She chuckled. ¡°And we¡¯ve caught one, right here. Hell, we¡¯ve got evidence to back it up!¡± She was interrupted by Jones¡¯s maniacal cackling. ¡°I see what the fish is.¡± Jones continued laughing. ¡°So you¡¯ve all been set up? Let me guess, you¡¯re the real spy here, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Nice try, scum-¡± Lisa started. ¡°Watson, don¡¯t listen to the scaley piece of shit!¡± Jones shouted. ¡°She¡¯s obviously one of their agents.¡± ¡°Hah, don¡¯t even start.¡± She coughed. ¡°It¡¯s not just all of that, you stupid little pea-for-brains.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your evidence then, Kim-Jong-Un?¡± Jones asked. ¡°Well, scum, you may not expect this, but we monitor radio traffic.¡± Lisa explained. ¡°Since the moment you arrived, we determined an identifiable source of outgoing communications. You¡¯ve been carrying a transmitter, haven¡¯t you?¡± She triumphantly stated. Watson¡¯s heart slumped. ¡°The fuck are you on about?¡± Jones shouted. ¡°I wasn¡¯t carrying shit. Besides the pistol.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. We¡¯ve caught you red-handed, Spy.¡± Lisa yelled back. ¡°I¡¯ll bet there¡¯s more stuffed under that ballsack of yours. Or maybe it¡¯s up you ass, if that¡¯s your preference.¡± Watson watched helplessly as the two exchanged one insult after another, a group of tense revolutionaries sweating as they gripped the trigger tensely. His heartbeat rose and rose, and his pulse thumped loudly inside his ear. His stomach was filled with a sensation of dread and guilt that had been building up for the past few hours, and tears began filling his eyes. Plagued by indecision, he continued to be a bystander. The tension rose and rose, and yet he couldn¡¯t do a thing about it. His ears turned red in shame as his face flustered. Then his hand brushed against his holster. Feeling a nostalgic sensation in his heart, he gripped the pistol tightly. A warm face greeted his memories as he ran his fingers against the engraving. Watson gulped. ¡°...Yeah, well fuck you too, you hag. No man would touch you with a ten-foot-long pole.¡± Jones shouted angrily. ¡°You¡¯d know about that, wouldn''t you? Can¡¯t imagine any guys wanting you, either.¡± Lisa retorted in kind, her face now scrunched up in anger. ¡°Just surrender already. Maybe we¡¯ll be nice and throw you in the freezer instead of the soup.¡± ¡°All bark and no bite.¡± Jones smirked, holding his gun with both of his hands. ¡°If that¡¯s what you¡¯re gonna do, then fucking do it. Don¡¯t keep me waiting.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you even think you can negotiate like that with me.¡± Lisa yelled, confidently walking up to Jones, presenting her temple in a clear line of sight to him. ¡°Go on, pull the trigger. Let¡¯s see what happens afterwards.¡± ¡°You really think I won¡¯t?¡± Jones shouted back. ¡°Confident!¡± She retorted. ¡°I¡¯m going to fucking do it, then!¡± Jones screamed, his finger tensing. ¡°Stop!¡± Watson shouted, using up all the courage he¡¯d built up. The two faced him instantly as the tension died down. ¡°I¡­ Well¡­ Um¡­¡± Watson huffed, as his floodgates opened. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Why¡¯re you crying, Mr. Watson?¡± Lisa asked, confused, still keeping an eye out on Jones. ¡°You¡¯ll be safe after we¡¯ve dealt with this Vermin shortly.¡± ¡°You really wanna go there?¡± Jones snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ Please.¡± Watson cried. ¡°I¡¯ll... come... clean.¡± ¡°What?¡± Lisa asked, stunned by his proclamation. ¡°It¡¯s not him.¡± Watson continued, choking up. ¡°The transmitter¡­ It¡¯s mine.¡± ¡°What?¡± Jones yelled, turning to Watson in surprise. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Watson muttered. ¡°While he was taking a break¡­ He offered me a way out.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got to be shitting me.¡± Lisa said, looking dumbfounded. ¡°He said¡­ They¡¯d take care of me.¡± Watson sniffled. ¡°I¡­ I just wanted to go back¡­¡± ¡°He sent me this.¡± Watson continued, pulling out the pulsing metal pen. ¡°He¡­ He told me it¡¯d only transmit when I click it after twisting the cap¡­¡± ¡°He lied, obviously.¡± Lisa said, her face still frozen in shock. She slowly approached Watson, too the pen from his hands, and crushed it under her feet. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t know.¡± Watson explained. ¡°Watson.¡± Jones paused. ¡°Are you retarded?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t believe this.¡± Lisa mumbled to herself. ¡°And I thought¡­¡± One of the revolutionaries spoke up. ¡°Uh, Sir?¡± He said. ¡°What should we do?¡± ¡°Keep your weapons raised, for now.¡± She sighed. ¡°Point at both of them.¡± They obeyed with some discord amongst the group. ¡°Now, what do we do with you¡­¡± She softly continued, picking up from before the shocker. ¡°Well, my pistol¡¯s still raised¡­¡± Jones argued. ¡°I thought we both established what¡¯s going to happen afterwards?¡± She said dissatisfied. ¡°But this really threw a wrench in my plans.¡± ¡°Um¡­¡± Watson said, still sniffling. ¡°Is there¡­ No peaceful solution?¡± ¡°Well, it would¡¯ve ended very peacefully for you.¡± Lisa stated, her face displaying her obvious disappointment. ¡°I thought at least you were trustable. Now we¡¯re at a crossroads.¡± ¡°And that would be?¡± Jones asked. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure about anything.¡± Lisa explained calmly. ¡°There¡¯s a good chance either- or both of your are spies. In which case, shooting you is the safe bet.¡± Watson fidgeted around nervously. ¡°But you could both be clean.¡± Lisa admitted. ¡°And in that case¡­ Your skills could be very useful.¡± ¡°Now that sounds more like it.¡± Jones chuckled, still not lowering his arm. ¡°I¡¯m just not sure.¡± She continued. Suddenly, a sentry stormed downhill, running with the fury of a thousand suns. ¡°Sir!¡± He said in-between huffs. ¡°I¡¯ve- report- from above-ground¡­¡± ¡°Slow down, cadet.¡± Lisa commandeered. ¡°Soldiers, keep your guns raised. Sentry, explain to me what¡¯s going on.¡± The grunts all saluted. ¡°S-sir!¡± The sentry yelled, calming himself down. ¡°We¡¯ve a report from above-ground. Enemy activity.¡± ¡°Shit.¡± Lisa cursed. ¡°Explain.¡± ¡°There was a large sandcloud¡­ So Terry took a look with his telescope.¡± He continued. ¡°Four confirmed vehicles, all Humvees. Species unknown, but we suspect it¡¯s mostly a group of Iguanas. Probably scouts or an independent military unit.¡± ¡°Iguanas¡­¡± She repeated. ¡°Just our fucking luck.¡± The bad news brought obvious change into the room as the faces of the grunts shifted from determined, to confused, to varying degrees of despair or chaos. Some even lowered their rifles, speaking loudly about their fears in lieu of performing their duty. Lisa looked not much better, her face darkened by the reveal. Suddenly, Jones began laughing again, now lowering his firearm. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Lisa turned to ask. The grunts stared at each other in confusion. ¡°It¡¯s just so perfect, the timing.¡± Jones howled, holding his tummy as he kept laughing. ¡°I¡¯ve found a solution for the both of us, Commander.¡± ¡°Explain.¡± Lisa asked sternly. ¡°Well, we don¡¯t trust each other.¡± Jones grinned. ¡°That¡¯s the problem, isn¡¯t it? I can¡¯t fix that, but we can leave that aside for now.¡± ¡°And how do you propose that?¡± Lisa asked. ¡°What else to bring a community together than fighting a common enemy?¡± He asked. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting¡­¡± Lisa confirmed. ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s put the guns down, peeps. We¡¯re dealing with the Lizards first.¡± Jones smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll sweeten the pot for ya.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°This dumbass will take the most important role.¡± Jones smirked, pointing at Watson. ¡°Me?¡± Watson asked in surprise. ¡°Yes, you, you idiot.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°You fucked up, Watson. Time to own it up.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Watson mumbled in fear. ¡°No more buts, asshole.¡± Jones shut him up. ¡°You even got a plan?¡± Lisa asked, considering his idea. ¡°Well, no, I was kinda hoping you¡¯d help me make one¡­¡± Jones suggested.
The two were alone by the cave¡¯s entrance, a cool breeze climbing up the hilly slope of the caverns. Watson strapped himself in the passenger''s seat, breathing in-and-out in an effort to calm himself. It hadn¡¯t helped until now, but he couldn¡¯t think of any other ways to not die of an heart attack. He watched as Jones slowly approached the car and opened the glovebox. He pulled out a large bag of a flowery green substance. ¡°I thought you gave it all to the guards earlier.¡± Watson asked, still huffing and puffing. ¡°I gave them a bag full of dried grass and moss. This is the real thing.¡± Jones explained. Watson watched as Jones topped a large pile of books, papers and wood with the large pile of weed and poured can after can of lighter fluid atop. ¡°Remind me.¡± Watson asked nervously. ¡°How¡¯s this plan going to work again?¡± ¡°Again, Watson?¡± Jones sighed. ¡°Come on, please.¡± Watson pleaded. ¡°So look.¡± Jones tapped Watson¡¯s temple, and then pointed at the pile. ¡° Apparently Iguanas have large-ass lungs, so they¡¯re susceptible to smells and smoke.¡± ¡°I gathered all the Weed and the burnables we had, and we¡¯re making a huge-ass fire with those.¡± He continued. ¡°The cave lets out a draft, so the weed-smoke gets carried down.¡± ¡°The others all exit via a secondary entrance.¡± He finalized. ¡°We run distraction duty with the smoke while they position themselves for the offensive by flanking.¡± ¡°What if¡­ They abandon us?¡± ¡°They can¡¯t. Miles and miles of no cover. It¡¯s do or die here.¡± Jones smirked. ¡°You really think I¡¯d run with a plan relying on others playing nice and fair?¡± ¡°No.¡± Watson mumbled. ¡°Also, take these.¡± Jones said, throwing a bundle of red sticks on Watson¡¯s lap. ¡°What are these?¡± Watson asked, confused. ¡°Flares. You¡¯ll need them for marking.¡± Jones grinned. ¡°Most important job of the operation, remember?¡± ¡°Oh god¡­¡± Watson muttered helplessly. ¡°Well, let¡¯s rock and roll then, shall we?¡± Jones said, throwing a match onto the pile.
The Lizardmen stared down the opening in the distance, the Iguanas holding formation, using their bulletproof doors as cover. They held their oversized, overcomplicated rifles, watching intently for any movement. They¡¯d been instructed to shoot on sight, and they were very intent on doing exactly that. Their commander sat in a cushy, custom Humvee behind the firing squad, sipping from a large mug, tapping away impatiently for some action to occur. Suddenly, the cave entrance was enveloped in a thick fog as a white gas began leaking out rapidly from the ghastly opening. Like a tidal wave, the smoke began spreading out downhill, within minutes reaching the confused firing squad. They weren¡¯t terribly shaken, as their eyesight was great in comparison to some puny humans. But they did tense up in anticipation. As the fog surrounded the Lizardmen soldiers, a sudden vroom of an engine snapped the soldiers back to focus. For a moment, the Lizardmen could make out a yellow wagon jolting vigorously out of the cave¡¯s mouth, the car disappearing into the smoke as suddenly as it came. Even with their improved vision, they could only make out trace signs of the car swerving left and right, the squads firing in disarray in an attempt to bring the vehicle down. But the car persisted. A couple shots did respond with a confident clang, but the enemy kept dancing around, drifting in an unpredictable, incredibly distracting way. What didn¡¯t help was the effect the smoke had on the Soldiers. Many began coughing, and some newbies even began laughing their guts out. The unaffected ones noticed that the car has been approaching them slowly. Unexpectedly, a shivering hand popped out of the passenger¡¯s window and threw a red rod at them. The closest Lizardmen retreated into the car in anticipation. But that was no explosive. Instead, the flare ignited, releasing a blinding red light. A hail of bullets rained upon the Lizardmen from unexpected directions and all hell broke loose.
¡°It¡¯s working!¡± Jones shouted, still maniacally dancing and swerving around the Lizardmen soldiers. ¡°Ahh!¡± Watson yelled. He didn¡¯t stop- ever. Terrified, Watson refused to even open his eyes. The Lizardmen were in disarray. They didn¡¯t know where to fire- and the ones that did, couldn¡¯t get a clear shot. The difference in numbers made all the difference, it seemed. Jones could make out small fragments of yelling and shouting from their direction, but it was interrupted by the hail of bullets raining upon them. He continued swerving, looking for some way to participate in the battle. It would be very dangerous to get any closer to the firing squad, as the revolutionaries fired rather indiscriminately. The plan was to get a flare inside, so that they had a general direction to fire towards, and that meant they sacrificed accuracy. Jones watched as the survivors banded together, some managing to move their cars to create a more effective cover. He gazed intently at an especially large specimen, as it suspiciously motioned towards the trunk, opting to simply rip the metal open. He stared in awe as some odd contraption- a long, black metal tube was pulled out. Not knowing what to expect, he watched as the trigger was pulled. A bright, brilliant purple laser beam shot forth in the direction of the revolutionaries, failing to hit them, but clearing the fog ahead in a single move. The tube seemed to have a consequence, however, as the creature howled in agony as his shoulder flopped like jello, most likely pulverized from the recoil. Jones watch in horror as another pulled out a second metal tube, this time clearly aiming at the revolutionaries. But fortunately¡­ He swerved, and drove head-first into the fire, suffering a friendly fire on his shoulder as he crashed into the artillery Lizardman.
The aftermath of combat was brutal. Lisa stared at the wreckage left by the hundreds of bullets shot, thousands of metal scraps and glass shards littering the blood-stained floor. Her losses were minimal- only one had died from a stray bullet. Ten had been injured, but they weren¡¯t in immediate danger. She finally sighed in relief, knowing that the battle had been won. But there was still work to do. Two Lizardmen were captured in surrender. They were both seething in anger, and were an absolute pain in the ass to tie down properly. She hated questioning the Lizardmen; it rarely proved successful. But most importantly, she had a coward and an asshole to attend to. ¡°So.¡± Lisa said. ¡°We¡¯ve won.¡± ¡°Of course we did.¡± Jones smirked. One of her subordinates was attending to his shoulder injury. ¡°Ow! Can¡¯t you be a bit more gentle?¡± She glanced at Watson, who stood behind his bullet-hosed car, hunch-backed and puking. She sighed once more. ¡°Negotiations are in order.¡± She stated. ¡°I better get a good deal on insurance.¡± Jones smirked smugly. ¡°Heard we ain¡¯t got Obamacare here.¡± ¡°Enough with the Jokes, Jones.¡± She said, annoyed. ¡°I don¡¯t even get them. The hell¡¯s an Obamacare?¡± ¡°Nothing important.¡± Jones waved away. ¡°Let¡¯s get back on topic.¡± She continued. ¡°I get it. You¡¯re probably not spies.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± Jones asked sarcastically. ¡°Wanna check if I¡¯ve got a slit instead of a ballsack?¡± ¡°How charming.¡± Lisa snorted. ¡°But we¡¯re still not a hundred percent with you.¡± ¡°Neither are we.¡± Jones retorted. ¡°Yes.¡± She confirmed. ¡°But as you said¡­ Common enemies. I thought it over. We could definitely use your help.¡± ¡°Glad to hear that.¡± Jones replied smugly. ¡°We needed more undercover, more¡­ Independent agents.¡± She continued. ¡°And you two could fit the bill perfectly.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± Jones asked with a serious voice. ¡°We¡¯ll assign you to a low-priority mission first. It¡¯s important, but not really top right now.¡± She replied. ¡°If you do well, then you¡¯ve got a long career ahead of you.¡± ¡°Sounds good.¡± Jones affirmed. ¡°And in return?¡± ¡°Well, assuming you¡¯re saying what we think you¡¯re saying...¡± Lisa trailed off. ¡°The resistance welcomes and supports you in¡­ Breaking the Conditioning.¡± Chapter 7 - The Blame Game 1 Back at the revolutionaries¡¯ base, things weren¡¯t looking quite so rosy. The command center was filled to the brim with well-suited men and women, all looking equal in rank and annoyance. They stared with baneful eyes as Jones casually lounged around in his chair, resting his legs on the magnificent mahogany table on its center. Watson watch helplessly as Jones flicked yet another piece of booger from his fingers and whistled on. The walls were plastered with maps and posters, all riddled with red dots and scribbles like a teenager¡¯s acne ridden face. The tension worsened as Lisa entered the room, carrying a staple of files and papers along. She marched casually into the center of the room, placing herself right across the two outsiders. After receiving a round of salutes and bows from her subordinates, she exaggerated a cough. ¡°May I have your attention, please?¡± Lisa said, refusing to be annoyed so early into the confrontation. ¡°Finally here, huh?¡± Jones replied, giving in to her request. He lowered his legs. ¡°Thought I was gonna doze off from all the waiting.¡± Watson fidgeted uncomfortably. ¡°Sorry for the wait, gentlemen.¡± Lisa explained. ¡°But our archives are a bit far away. Besides, I had to close entrance 5A because of someone¡¯s¡­¡± She sneered at Watson. ¡°Blunder.¡± Watson visibly sulked, opting to stare at his feet in an effort to count the stains. ¡°Blah, blah, blahedy-blah.¡± Jones mouthed loudly. ¡°Save us the excuses. Just get on with it.¡± ¡°Gladly, Mr. Jones.¡± Lisa smiled slyly. ¡°I agree with your assessment. We¡¯re here to discuss the terms of your cooperation.¡± ¡°This better be good.¡± Jones retorted. ¡°It¡¯ll be worth your time.¡± Lisa continued. ¡°Let us first start with the position you put us in.¡± ¡°Now, when we first met you, we had strong suspicions regarding your¡­ Legitimacy.¡± She trailed on. ¡°Good reasons, really. But we really trusted Mr. Watson over there. However, we¡¯re now at a point where we¡¯re unsure about what to do with either of you.¡± ¡°I mean¡­ You could, uh, let us go?¡± Watson hopefully interjected. ¡°Since both of you know about this place, we can¡¯t exactly just forget about our interaction.¡± Lisa finalized. ¡°No. There are only two choices left to us. Cooperation, or¡­¡± She paused. ¡°Silencing.¡± ¡°And I think you know exactly which one we¡¯re here for.¡± Jones laughed. ¡°So what¡¯s the trouble? Just get on with it, for Christ¡¯s sake.¡± ¡°We see you both as potential assets.¡± Lisa disclosed. ¡°We would prefer to cooperate with you two. I¡¯m just making clear what the other options are.¡± ¡°So basically, we don¡¯t dance like a monkey, and we get a bullet in our heads.¡± Jones sneezed. ¡°You think we¡¯d just roll along with that?¡± ¡°We have a better offer, actually.¡± Lisa countered. ¡°I think I understand how best to utilize your abilities, and just locking you with orders doesn¡¯t seem so wise. We have a mission for you.¡± ¡°And that would be¡­?¡± Watson perked up. ¡°Look at these files.¡± Lisa laid out a stack of statistics and pictures. ¡°Aren¡¯t these¡­¡± Jones started, scanning through the files. ¡°Election results?¡± Watson finishes, recognizing names and faces. ¡°Yes, election results.¡± Lisa confirmed. ¡°And on paper, they¡¯re just fine.¡± ¡°So¡­?¡± Watson started, looking at her blankly. ¡°But we¡¯ve looked into these individuals.¡± Lisa explained, pulling out another stack of papers. ¡°Most of these candidates are incredibly underqualified. Some of them didn¡¯t even graduate.¡± ¡°Where¡¯re you going with this?¡± Jones asked, confused. ¡°They¡¯re frontment. For the Lizards.¡± Lisa revealed coldly. ¡°Either that or Chameleons. However, amongst those¡­¡± She pulled out yet another document. ¡°Was Brent Johnson. U.S Senator.¡± ¡°Brent Johnson¡­¡± Watson repeated, reading the file carefully, recognizing the name. ¡°Elected in 2010, he was the first insider the revolution had within the U.S government. He is also the reason we researched the candidates.¡± She continued. ¡°Well, he contacted us first, actually. He couldn¡¯t leak too much information- because, as Mr. Watson surely knows, he disappeared a week after his election.¡± ¡°Wait, you aren¡¯t saying¡­¡± Watson started. ¡°Before he did, however, he leaked a very interesting tidbit of information.¡± Lisa pointed out. ¡°He said that a crucial piece of the puzzle was located in the old holiday mansion of the Bush household.¡± ¡°And that would be¡­?¡± Jones asked, frowning. ¡°Only a dozen miles away from here, actually.¡± Lisa smiled. ¡°The town of Greenville. The Bush family held a holiday residence there, around the 1960¡¯s.¡± ¡°1960¡¯s¡­?¡± Jones muttered. ¡°That would be¡­¡± ¡°...Around the time of the Lizardmen takeover, yes.¡± She affirmed. ¡°We tried to get ahold of it- spies, thieves, even a full-scale raid. But sadly¡­¡± Lisa slammed an old newspaper article on the table. ¡°This happened. The Bush family household was converted into the mayoral office, with some intense security.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± The two chorused. ¡°With more pertinent objectives to compete for, we decided to make other things a priority.¡± Lisa excused. ¡°And that¡¯s where you come in.¡± ¡°Finally.¡± Jones sneezed. ¡°We have an agent stationed in Greenville. For the past two years.¡± She opened. ¡°His name is Ben Harrington.¡± ¡°His job is to blend into the community and be elected as the mayor of Greenville.¡± She closed. ¡°Your job is to assist Mr. Harrington in his mission.¡± ¡°That sounds¡­¡± Jones whimpered. ¡°Boring as fuck.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the perfect mission for you, really.¡± Lisa justified. ¡°It¡¯s not a priority, nor will many resources be in danger if you do turn out to be spies for the enemy.¡± Watson entertained the idea inside his head and found it to be reasonable. ¡°I guess it could be worse.¡± He said, nodding. ¡°How long do you expect this to take?¡± Jones grumbled. ¡°Well, local elections happen every two years, so¡­¡± Lisa grinned slyly. ¡°Unless you somehow succeed within the next two and a half weeks, two to four years.¡± ¡°Two-¡± Jones stumbled. ¡°Two years? Are you insane?¡± ¡°The revolution¡¯s been going strong for forty, Mr. Jones.¡± Lisa explained, maintaining her smile. ¡°We don¡¯t mind waiting another two.¡± "You''ve gotta be kidding me." Jones repeated. "Need I remind you what the alternative is?" Lisa said, looking smug. Jones kicked the underside of the table, earning himself some angry stares from the audience. "Alright, fuck. I''ll do it." He said. "But lemme ask some questions." "Sure, go right ahead." Lisa said. "First." Jones coughed. "If all the elected are either frontmen or chameleons, how do you expect us to succeed?" "That''s a good question." She answered without hesitation. "Well, on the macro-level, that''s correct. But on the micro-level, many small-time politicans seem legitimate." "We assume this is because of the human-to-lizard ratio." Lisa said, continuing without halt. "Depending on the area, we estimate a two-hundred to one ratio. Greenville is completely unimportant without the Bush house, so we expect no interference." "Fair." Jones said, nodding in approval. "Second question. Explain to me what these chameleons... Are. Was the thing we fought at the gas station a chameleon?" "No." Lisa curtly said, and rummaged for a sheet of paper. "That was a monitor lizard. On paper, a lot more scary than a chameleon." "Monitor lizards can tranform, and are faster, stronger, and more durable than chameleons." "But they have a critical flaw of being... Stupid. Or more like ''pre-planned''. They are easy to spot when you know what you''re looking for, and they have a clear pattern in combat." "Here is a picture of a chameleon on the left and a monitor lizard on the right." Lisa said, laying down two photographs. "Notice the dead eyes on the left, and the lively expressions on the right. Chameleons have a sixth sense when it comes to imitation." "On rare occasions, a controller takes over the monitor lizard, but in most cases, they aren''t that big of a threat when handeled with care." She said, concluding her little speech. "That''s pretty creepy." Jones frowned, staring deeply into the photographs. "You sure this ain''t just some normal dude?" "Positive." Lisa said, her lips curling up. "Would you like to see his corpse?" "I''d rather not." Jones said, bemused. "I''m done for now." "Good." Lisa said. "You have two hours to get ready and going."
The British Leyland Princess trucked on, unexpectedly having survived the fire shower. Aluminium tape covered the bullet holes, and a quick sprayjob had taken care of the dashed exterior. Thanks to the hard efforts put into repairing the car, it now looked like a ghetto drug dealer¡¯s choice vehicle. It didn¡¯t help that the interior reeked of marijuana. Inside, two men sat, one obviously more annoyed than the other. ¡°This is fucking bullshit.¡± Jones said, tapping away at the window like an impatient child. ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound too bad.¡± Watson said, nodding to himself in encouragement. ¡°I mean, we¡¯re just supposed to help him get elected, right? So we run a charity, a bake sale¡­ Maybe make some flyers.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°That¡¯s exactly my problem.¡± He said, kicking the glovebox in anger. ¡°Why in god¡¯s name would anyone want to do that? And besides, two fucking years? What do they think I am, a fucking retiree?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Well, she did mention two to four¡­¡± Watson said absentmindedly. ¡°Don¡¯t you even start.¡± Jones interrupted. ¡°You know this is all your fault, right?¡± The car veered to the side as Watson lost control. ¡°W-what?¡± He asked. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Geez, do I need to spell it out for you?¡± Jones said, pouting as he went. ¡°Thanks to a certain somebody, we¡¯re now ¡®untrustworthy¡¯.¡± He faked quotation marks with his fingers. ¡°Look, I said I was sorry, alright?¡± Watson said, looking hurt by the comments. ¡°And besides, she was planning to shoot you.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have happened if you didn¡¯t mention my backstory to everybody.¡± Jones sneezed, laying his feet atop the glovebox. ¡°It¡¯s called discretion, Watson.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ok?¡± Watson said, turning to face Jones. ¡°It won¡¯t happen again. I¡­ thought about it.¡± Jones turned to meet his gaze. Watson didn¡¯t dodge. Which was impressive, but that meant that the car swerved into the grassy roadside. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going!¡± Jones said, pointing towards the windscreen. He pulled his feet back. Watson regain control quickly, swerving back into the non-existent traffic. Jones remained silent for a moment in contemplation. ¡°I get it. I¡¯ll lay off.¡± He said. ¡°But I¡¯m still pissed about this situation.¡± ¡°I told you. You need to start seeing the positives in life.¡± Watson said. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Jones laughed insincerely. ¡°The only people who say that are the ones who marry fat chicks.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not married to a fat woman.¡± ¡°Not married. No surprises there. ¡± Jones said, chuckling to himself. ¡°Hey.¡± Watson said, looking embarrassed. ¡°You don¡¯t look like you¡¯d fare any better with the ladies.¡± ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong, Watson.¡± Jones wiggled his fingers. ¡°I¡¯ve had plenty of fangirls online.¡± ¡°Whatever.¡± Watson brushed off. ¡°We¡¯re almost there, I think.¡± They passed by a ¡®Welcome to Greenville¡¯ sign. ¡°Yep. Seems like it.¡± Jones said. ¡°So, what¡¯s your plan, then?¡± Watson said, looking at Jones through the backmirror. Jones groaned. ¡°I¡¯ll come up with something. Anything but running a gay charity¡­¡± ¡°Well, charities are important for the community.¡± Watson said. ¡°It does a wonderful job helping the people in need, you know?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit about the community.¡± Jones said in return. ¡°Besides, getting heroin addicts off the streets isn¡¯t my idea of a good time.¡± Watson tilted his head. ¡°What¡¯s a heroin?¡± ¡°I almost forgot who I¡¯m talkin¡¯ to.¡± Jones slapped himself. ¡°Look, it¡¯s the town.¡± The town of Greenville was about as generic as it gets. As an agricultural trade center, it meant that the town was disallowed to have anything interesting in it, leading the local youth to turn to alcohol and sniffing glue to get their fix. The town was small enough for Jones to see the other end of town from his, and small classy businesses and houses were scattered in between. Not many passersby were present at this time, but most gave a curious glance to the visiting vehicle as it rolled by. None of this was important to Jones, however. He was focused on something else entirely. He tugged harshly at Watson¡¯s posh jacket. ¡°Watson.¡± He said. ¡°Pull up your jacket and lower your head.¡± Watson looked surprised. ¡°What? Why?¡± He said, staring at Jones through the mirror. ¡°Just fucking do it, Watson.¡± Jones said, glaring like a mad dog. ¡°Right now.¡± Watson complied, still looking confused. ¡°Can you just tell me what¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Turn into that shady looking corner. Hope there¡¯s no dealers sitting there.¡± Jones said silently. ¡°I¡¯ll explain once we get there.¡± Watson absentmindedly followed his orders, twisting and turning his head in confusion. Soon, the two reached an out-of-place shady corner behind a barred business. ¡°Can you explain now?¡± Watson asked, turning to face Jones, who was rummaging through the glovebox. ¡°Wait a sec.¡± Jones said. He soon pulled out a shiny new pistol from the glovebox along with a holster. Unlike Jones¡¯s past firearms, this was a proper, factory-made, cartridge-based pistol. Polished and oiled with the care and love of a professional, the pistol holstered nicely into the waxed leather chestpiece. ¡°Colt .45.¡± Jones said, grinning with satisfaction. ¡°A classic American choice. Not too happy with the grip, but I¡¯ll take it.¡± ¡°Uh, Jones?¡± Watson asked, waving his hand in front of Jones¡¯s frothing face. ¡°Why the pistol?¡± ¡°You better get armed too, Watson.¡± Jones said, slapping his hand away. Watson recoiled. ¡°We¡¯ve got trouble. Well, actually, it¡¯s you.¡± ¡°Huh? Me?¡± Watson said, pointing at himself. ¡°Yeah.¡± Jones grinned. ¡°Pretty ironic, but¡­ We passed by a town bulletin board. You know what I saw?¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°A wanted poster. Of you.¡± Jones chuckled. ¡°Gotta say, I¡¯m impressed. I wanted one too.¡± Watson¡¯s face turned pale. ¡°W- what? A wanted poster?¡± He said, choking on his breath. ¡°What¡¯d it say I did?¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t exactly read at 30 miles per hour.¡± Jones said, patting Watson¡¯s back. ¡°But we¡¯ll find out. We gotta get to that Ben¡¯s house first, though.¡± Watson took a deep breath. ¡°Good idea.¡± ¡°I¡¯m driving, though.¡± Jones said, pointing towards the passenger¡¯s seats. ¡°Get in the back. You see that coat over there? Lie down, and cover yourself. Act like you¡¯re sleeping.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Watson said, quickly climbing to the back.
Without incident, the Princess rolled into the parking lot of a suburban American house. White-picket fences, a nice, cozy doghouse- the place looked like someone had googled ¡®the American Dream¡¯ and decided on the very first picture that came up. The lawn was well-maintained and the neighbourhood quiet. Jones stepped outside the car, hurriedly approaching the wooden door. Ignoring the bell, he began pounding at the door, sounding more and more like an armed burglar in the process. Soon, a man opened the door and stepped outside. It was immediately obvious why this person had been chosen for this mission. An easy face to look at, well shaven, well dressed, and a smile just naturally woven into his expression- he was the perfect neighbour. He stretched his hand out. ¡°Ben.¡± He said, maintaining his friendly smile. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± ¡°Jones.¡± Jones said, frowning in judgement. He grabbed Ben¡¯s hand tightly and shook violently. ¡°Nice to meet you too.¡± ¡°Woah. I guess Lisa wasn¡¯t joking about you.¡± Ben chuckled, pulling his hand free. ¡°Intense.¡± ¡°Enough with the chit-chat.¡± Jones coughed. ¡°Can we talk inside?¡± He signalled Watson to come. ¡°Sure. My pleasure.¡± Ben said, taking a glance at the covered-up Watson. ¡°Please, make yourselves at home.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Jones brushed away. He kicked his boots free and stomped in. ¡°Thank you.¡± Watson said, giving a small, polite bow. He hurried inside and untied his shoes. ¡°Head down the hallway to the living room.¡± Ben said loudly. The living room was about as generic as it gets- a nice, cozy fireplace, a fancy TV, a coffee table and a comfortable yellow felt couch. Watson sheepishly sat down, and Jones dramatically let himself fall atop the cushions. ¡°You boys want anything to drink?¡± Ben asked, holding up a wooden tray. ¡°Um¡­ A tea, if you have some.¡± Watson said, taking the coat off. ¡°Whisky. On the rocks.¡± Jones said, stretching his hand out. ¡°A Peppermint tea and some water, then.¡± Ben smiled. ¡°We don¡¯t drink here.¡± Jones groaned and mumbled some colorful insults beneath his breath. ¡°Thanks for the offer.¡± Watson said, taking in the scenery. ¡°Nice house, by the way.¡± ¡°No problem. And thanks.¡± Ben said. ¡°So you must be Watson, then.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ Yes.¡± Watson said, stroking the back of his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Should¡¯ve introduced myself.¡± ¡°No worries, Watson.¡± Ben chuckled. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re quite the celebrity now.¡± Jones perked up. ¡°Yeah, about that¡­¡± Watson sighed. ¡°What happened? I heard about the Wanted posters...¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯ve made the headlines, Mr. Watson.¡± Ben said, recounting the story. ¡°You don''t mind me calling you Watson and Jones, right?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± Jones said. ¡°Please do.¡± Watson nodded. ¡°Let me read this aloud for you-¡± Ben said, pulling out a newspaper clipping from his trousers. ¡°¡®Trials and Tribulations - First Signs of Terror in Decades¡¯¡± ¡°A case of arson at a local medical production facility was determined to be a terrorist act as a security guard recalls the details of the duo¡¯s dubious acts.¡± ¡°The guard in question, Mr. C, was locked inside the local restaurant¡¯s freezer and miraculously survived the encounter.¡± ¡°The community condemns the suspect, Mr. Connor Watson, and his unidentified accomplice, as the dangerous duo roam the streets freely.¡± ¡°...Quite a story.¡± Ben laughed, finishing the last sentence. ¡°I thought I heard everything from Lisa, but this is really something.¡± "Didn''t mention the guy was a Lizard, huh?" Jones said, looking amused. "Wonder how they covered that one up." ¡°...Arson?¡± Watson said, his jaw agape. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t do that.¡± He stared at Jones. Ben brought the prepared drinks over. ¡°Well, I may have found a bottle of vodka somewhere¡­¡± Jones said. ¡°And I got a bit carried away.¡± ¡°And the freezer?¡± Watson asked, teary-eyed. ¡°I can explain that one.¡± Jones said, sipping his water in disgust. ¡°Bleh. Anyways, I thought Lizards were cold-blooded, right? So I figured I could keep Craig there and he¡¯d be fine. You never know when you need him.¡± Watson snapped back to Ben. ¡°Why am I the only one on the posters?¡± ¡°Well, it says here you were both masked, but a Hot Topic employee was able to identify your costume.¡± Ben said, reciting the article clearly. Watson slumped into his seat. Ben sipped some coffee. ¡°Kind of unfortunate. Especially for our mission.¡± He said. ¡°But nothing we can¡¯t work around.¡± Jones let out a grumble. ¡°The mission¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°Hey, Ben, where¡¯s the toilet?¡± ¡°Oh. See those doors down the hallway? The second one.¡± Ben pointed towards a set of doors. ¡°Make sure to wash your hands.¡± Jones dismissively raised his hand as he marched towards the toilet. ¡°So, Watson.¡± Ben said, shuffling to sit next to the slouched Watson. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about what happened back at base.¡± Watson sat up. ¡°Please don¡¯t mention that.¡± He blushed in embarrassment. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about it all day.¡± Ben laughed. ¡°No problem.¡± He smiled. ¡°I understand, honestly. I think I would¡¯ve done the same.¡± Watson looked up with a glimmer in his eyes. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yeah. Really.¡± Ben wistfully smiled. ¡°Living like this, really reminds you of¡­ Well, normalcy. I sometimes imagine life without¡­ All that.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t say.¡± Watson said, nodding along. ¡°Especially with this mission.¡± Ben said, his face now neutral. ¡°I used to live like that, you know. It wasn¡¯t as quiet back then, though.¡± ¡°No?¡± Watson moved closer. ¡°I used to have a wife.¡± Ben nostalgically eyed an empty chair. ¡°Very chatty.¡± ¡°Um... ¡° Watson fidgeted his fingers. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Well, she was a lawyer.¡± Ben said, sipping his coffee, savoring the bitter flavor. ¡°Long story short, she stuck her nose in too deep, and next you know¡­¡± They sat in silence for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m sure you understand.¡± Ben said, turning to face Watson. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about Archie.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Watson stared blankly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that.¡± Ben chuckled. ¡°Really?¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that expression many times. Watson. Especially back in headquarters.¡± Watson kept quiet. He reached for his tea only to find it cold. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure it out.¡± Ben said, patting Watson¡¯s back. ¡°Oh, look. Jones is coming back. Why don¡¯t we discuss the mission now?¡± Jones walked back towards the two, now visibly more relaxed. ¡°That was fast.¡± Watson said, looking up. ¡°Yeah. Felt good.¡± He said, nonchalantly sitting back down. ¡°So, Jones, wanna discuss the mission now?¡± Ben said, picking the empty glasses back up. ¡°Watson, let me make you a wam batch of tea.¡± Watson nodded. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°About that.¡± Jones said. ¡°I had an idea in the bathroom.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Ben said, walking towards the kitchen. ¡°What idea?¡± ¡°I need you to explain something to me first.¡± Jones stared at Ben. ¡°How does the election work?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Ben began preparing a new kettle. ¡°It¡¯s a two-week affair. Candidates can register until friday evening, which is tomorrow, and they give a speech on monday.¡± ¡°After that, they campaign for two weeks. On the sunday of the last week is when the vote happens.¡± He said. ¡°So you can still apply?¡± Jones smiled. ¡°Uh, yes?¡± Ben nodded. ¡°Good.¡± Jones grinned widely. ¡°Very, very good. Let me ask you- how popular are you in this community?¡± ¡°I help out with charity, run the local boys¡¯ scout... Everyone knows me pretty well.¡± Ben counted his fingers. ¡°I¡¯m pretty good at my job.¡± ¡°Who gets to vote?¡± Jones asked. ¡°Um¡­ Anyone of legal age registered within the state.¡± Ben tapped his forehead. "I thought they unified the states?" Jones asked. "Well, the unification act left the states mostly intact for management purposes. It really just means our governors have far less autonomy..." Watson said, dusting his knowledge from AP history. "Besides that, they just need to have a temporary local residence." Ben said, scratching his chin. "What''s the population of this town?" Jones asked, visibly getting more excited. "About 2,000." Ben answered. "It''s a small town. Mostly families and retirees." ¡°Perfect.¡± He said. "We¡¯re getting you elected. This cycle.¡± Jones stood up. ¡°How¡¯re you planning to do that?¡± Watson asked, looking confused as ever. ¡°We don¡¯t even have a campaign planned yet.¡± ¡°We have a budget, right?¡± Jones said, staring at Ben. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve got a fund.¡± Ben considered. ¡°It¡¯s a decent size.¡± Jones laughed heartily. ¡°Listen, then." Chapter 8 - The Blame Game 2 Honk¡­ Honk¡­ Honk¡­ A yellow school bus rolled up the apartment, squealing its wheels as it drifted in. On its sides, the words, ¡®Free Food and Shelter¡¯ were crudely sprayed on. As the dust settled, the door opened, and Jones stepped out. Fumbling in his pockets, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and blazed away. What seemed like a pack of rodents rushed out of the bus. They were definitely not students. Dressed in filthy, sewn-together rags and dirty beanies, they reeked of booze and spit. Their hairs were unkempt and specs of dirt and dust dropped to the ground as they ran past. Their target was a rather innocuous table with a pot of soup laid atop. Fights began breaking out as the hobos ravaged each other for control of the ladle. Jones took a bemused glance at the ensuing fights and threw a handful of change in. He walked inside and stepped into the office. Inside, Watson was watching television. He was dressed in a red apron and looked tired. Hearing the door creak open, he turned to see Jones enter the room. ¡°Jones!¡± He said, looking delighted. ¡°Thank god you¡¯re here. I can¡¯t deal with all these people.¡± Jones spat his cigarette out. ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯m back. I got the next batch.¡± He sniffed the air. ¡°Smells a bit, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Watson said. ¡°I tried giving them Febreeze, but one of them drank it.¡± Chuckling, Jones sat down on the couch. ¡°So, is the election on?¡± Watson reached for a cooler and took out a beer. ¡°Yes. Ben¡¯s right up.¡± He said, offering the beverage to Jones. ¡°Thanks.¡± Jones cracked the can open. ¡°I hope Ben doesn¡¯t fuck this up.¡± The television crackled. It was an old CRT they¡¯d picked up at a nearby dump. On screen, the mayor¡¯s office a couple blocks down was shown, the candidates for this election standing proudly, shoulder-to-shoulder. Ben was looking the best he¡¯d ever been. Normally, he was already the perfect neighbour. Now, he looked like an old woman¡¯s wet dream. Dressed in a nifty suit, his smile swooned the hearts of many a nannies. He stepped carefully atop the stairs, standing in front of the podium. ¡°We practiced a lot.¡± Watson poured himself a cup of water. ¡°That we did.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°You know, Jones¡­¡± Watson turned away from the telly. ¡°I know I¡¯ve said this a lot, but¡­ I still don¡¯t get this part of the plan.¡± Jones laughed. ¡°Understatement of the year. Do you at least get why we got those hobos and the apartment block?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ We give them a place, and make them vote for us, right? I mean, that¡¯s pretty simple.¡± Watson nodded. ¡°But I don¡¯t get this speech business.¡± The crowd murmured. They didn¡¯t know what to expect of Ben; most knew him as a member of their community, but as a politician? They talked amongst themselves while Ben cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯d like to begin with a thanks. To the organizers, to my fellow constituents, and most importantly, the citizens of this wonderful community- Thank you.¡± The crowd applauded. ¡°I thought that was the easy part.¡± Jones said. He took a big swig. ¡°But continue.¡± ¡°We stand here, at a historical moment for our community.¡± Ben said, his voice clear and sonorous. ¡°The position of mayor isn¡¯t something to be trifled with. Only the most worthy of candidates can bear this responsibility.¡± Watson raised the telly¡¯s volume. ¡°It¡¯s just one part of it.¡± ¡°Most of you wonderful people know me well as a member of your community.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯m certain you¡¯re all wondering what makes me stand here, right in front of you. What do I offer, that the others- by admission, more experienced candidates than I am- can¡¯t?¡± Jones took another sip. ¡°What part? This one?¡± ¡°I know that they too want the best for our community, but I believe there is a lack of attention given to the people that supported us over the years.¡± Ben paused. ¡°The elderly, and the retired. They¡¯ve worked hard, yet they¡¯re the ones paying the most taxes. I think that¡¯s a large dilemma we must tackle.¡± ¡°We¡¯re just appealing to old fucks for votes here. Demographics, remember?¡± Jones smirked. ¡°Beyond that, the current working class will be empowered. I think increased subsidies for new firms and establishments will give us an edge over neighbouring towns. I will also fight for an increase in our bottom-line; I will personally suggest an increase of the minimum wage to the state¡¯s board.¡± ¡°Well, I did read those. So I mean, I get that.¡± Watson nodded along. ¡°But it¡¯s the last part.¡± Ben started looking nervous. ¡°Beyond that¡­ Well, I¡¯ve yet to appeal for emotion, haven¡¯t I? I know that most of you know me well as a friend. A person to rely on. And I return that respect in kind; I believe in all of you gorgeous people. I know this community to be what it is; the most¡­ Accepting community to ever be.¡± ¡°Oh, you mean¡­¡± Jones¡¯s grin grew wider. ¡°I¡­ Also wish to take this opportunity to come out to you all.¡± Ben gulped. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ A homosexual. I know that this information will not rust our relationships; I just wished to be honest. With myself, and to you all. You¡¯ve earned it. Thank you, and goodbye.¡± The reception to Ben¡¯s exit was very different from his entrance. Instead of an unsure murmur, the crowd exploded into a cacophony of cheers and shouts, as well as a series of groans and cracked hips from his fan club. Ben jolted off the stage in a hurry. ¡°That part.¡± Watson pointed at the monitor. ¡°Was that really necessary?¡± Jones stood up from his chair and stretched his arms. ¡°That was a fantastic show.¡± He cackled. ¡°And yeah. That was necessary. It¡¯s called the blame game, Watson. They shit on Ben, now, and we can shit right back on them. Call them homophobes and their career is ruined for good.¡± Watching Jones attempt to throw his empty can into the bin and fail, Watson sighed. ¡°I just don¡¯t get you, Jones. Where do you get these ideas?¡± ¡°You learn from your enemies.¡± Jones answered. ¡°Anyways, we gotta go clean up those hobos. You comin¡¯ with?¡±
Ben sat in a corner, sulking and drinking. Jones walked up to him. ¡°You been in here since the speech last week? Good job, by the way.¡± He patted his back. Ben shuddered, and took another swig. ¡°I can¡¯t go outside anymore.¡± He said. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I agreed to do this, Jones. My mom called me yesterday. Told me she¡¯s so proud of me for coming out.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Well¡­ You did do a good job on that¡­¡± Ben smashed his now-empty bottle against a wall. ¡°I¡¯m not fucking gay, Jones!¡± He teared up. ¡°I like that girl down the road, you know? She congratulated me after the speech. Told me she used to have a thing for me, but oh well. Do I want her gay friend¡¯s number? No, I fucking don¡¯t.¡± Jones stepped back. ¡°Woah, woah. Man, calm down. You¡¯ve been drinking a bit too much.¡± He pointed at the bottle of booze lined up. ¡°You know what? You shouldn¡¯t take more. Here, let me help you.¡± He said, cracking one open, chugging it down. Ben glared at him, eager to start a fight. But he sighed, and looked down. ¡°Why¡¯re you here?¡± Jones sat down. ¡°Here to pick you up.¡± He continued drinking. ¡°I get you ain¡¯t feeling too good, but we still have a job to do.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mean that, specifically.¡± Ben said, eyeing Jones from top to bottom. Jones shirked. ¡°Woah, I don¡¯t swing that way.¡± He chuckled. Ben punched his shoulder. ¡°Not that, asshole.¡± He said. ¡°You know what? Nevermind.¡± ¡°Ow. That¡¯s the shot shoulder. You ready to get back to work, then?¡± Jones burped. ¡°Yeah.¡± Ben stood up and dusted his pants. Jones followed. ¡°Good to hear.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯ve got the others assembled. Lisa¡¯s gettin¡¯ on the radio, and Watson¡¯s waiting at the office.¡± Jones gestured Ben to follow, and headed for the car.
The office was cramped with papers and gadgets. Watson was eagerly awaiting Jones¡¯s arrival, nervously stepping around. From the ceiling above came the sounds of angry homeless people shoving each other and throwing bottles. He perked up as he heard the front door open, and two people step in. Jones kicked the door in. Ben shuffled behind him, looking very hungover. ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± Jones said. He was smiling very wide. ¡°I¡¯ve got our newly enlightened. Three bottles of Vodka- I gotta say, I¡¯m proud of him.¡± Watson looked relieved. ¡°You¡¯re finally back, Jones. Did it take long to¡­ Uh, pick him up?¡± ¡°Nah, it wasn¡¯t that hard. I just had to buy some cigs on the way.¡± Jones waved him away. Watson breathed out. ¡°I was worried he¡¯d be a wreck.¡± ¡°Kinda do feel like one.¡± Ben said. He used the wall to stabilize himself. ¡°Nevermind all that shit.¡± Jones said. He sat down on a couch and laid his feet on the coffee table. ¡°Is Lisa coming on anytime soon?¡± Watson pointed at the radio. ¡°Well, she said she¡¯d be back. She just went to grab a drink after I told her you¡¯d be leading the conference.¡± Jones chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s mighty nice of her.¡± He said. He yanked the microphone from its holder. ¡°Hey, anyone there? We¡¯re all ready here.¡± The radio remained silent, but soon after, one could make out faint footsteps. ¡°Quiet down, will you?¡± A female voice rang. ¡°Half the base heard you. Commander Lisa reports for the¡­ Conference.¡± ¡°Now that sounds official.¡± Jones grinned. ¡±Well, I got the point across. Whatchu having tonight, commander? A glass of whisky?¡± ¡°Spirytus. Actually. 95%. Just for this enlightening occasion.¡± The radio fizzled. ¡°What an honor.¡± Jones said. ¡°Anyways, you got everything?¡± The radio replied a moment later. ¡°I think so. Is Ben there?¡± A tired Ben groaned. ¡±Yeah, I¡¯m here.¡± He said. ¡°Not feeling all there, but I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Ben. Any updates?¡± Lisa asked. ¡°Well, I want to shoot myself a bit more now.¡± Ben replied. ¡°But no, everything¡¯s fine. Going well, actually, as much as I don¡¯t want to admit.¡± ¡°Good, good.¡± Lisa said. ¡°Then continue. We can chat later.¡± Jones stood up and walked towards a whiteboard hastily taped to a wall. Punching it, he said, ¡°You guys done talkin¡¯ about the weather now? Can I start?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± Lisa said. ¡°Well then, if I may¡­¡± Jones pulled out a black marker. ¡°We have a problem.¡± Watson eyed him curiously. ¡°What do you mean, Jones?¡± Jones started drawing a huge box, split into four quadrants. He started labelling them. ¡°The votes. I hired some dude to do some math and shit.¡± He labelled them as ¡®Boomers¡¯, ¡®Grannies¡¯, ¡®Kids¡¯, and ¡®Conservatives¡¯. ¡°Here are the four demographics of the town.¡± Ben shook himself awake and took a glance at the board. ¡°Pretty rough, but I guess so.¡± Lisa chimed in. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ve cornered there two markets.¡± Jones circled the ¡®Liberals¡¯ and the ¡®Grannies¡¯. ¡°But the others? We ain¡¯t got shit from them. There¡¯s part of the problem.¡± ¡°The guy calculated that we have roughly 26% of the total votes. By the end, he calculated, these two quadrants will give us 60% of their total votes.¡± He paused. ¡°But the leader right now had been climbing hard- really fucking hard. He¡¯s at 35% now, and rising.¡± ¡°So¡­ We aren¡¯t guaranteed to win, you¡¯re saying?¡± Watson asked. Jones snapped his fingers. ¡±Exactly. And that¡¯s a huge problem. We¡¯re probably not gonna get a shot as good as this.¡± He said. ¡°Even including the homeless dudes, we¡¯re probably at 34%. I ain¡¯t finished highschool, so take that as you will, but it should be right.¡± Ben slumped onto a couch. ¡±So, what¡¯s your point? Get onto it. I need a nap.¡± ¡°These two quadrants barely vote for us.¡± He tapped at ¡®Boomers¡¯ and ¡®Kids¡¯. ¡°The thing about this town is- most of these four quadrants live separate from each other. ¡° He began coloring the quadrants. ¡°So they¡¯re isolated mini-communities.¡± ¡°And your idea is¡­?¡± Lisa said. ¡°My idea is¡­ Operation Flusher, I call it.¡± He grinned. ¡°We¡¯re going to flush these two blocks away. They ain¡¯t gonna vote for nobody once we¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Get on with it, then.¡± Ben said, reaching for a bottle of water on the table. ¡°Sure, sure. Just savoring the glory.¡± He paused. ¡°My idea is to¡­ Poison these two quadrants. Just mildly, with food poisoning. They won¡¯t be getting up to vote.¡± Silence filled the room, broken by the sound of Ben throwing his bottle against the board. ¡°Are you fucking crazy?¡± Ben said. ¡°You gotta be fucking joking.¡± He looked a lot less tired. Watson stood there, gobsmacked. ¡°Jones¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re not doing that.¡± Ben stood up, and walked towards Jones. ¡°You fucking lunatic. You want to poison them?¡± ¡°I agree with Ben.¡± Watson gulped. ¡°I¡­ Aren¡¯t we supposed to help the people? Poisoning them?¡± Jones puffed his chest out. ¡°Well, what then, genius? We need to fucking win.¡± He said. Ben shoved him. ¡°Yeah, but we aren¡¯t poisoning innocent people, you cunt.¡± He breathed in. ¡°Lisa, you hearing this horseshit?¡± The room went silent again. ¡°I¡­ Don¡¯t think it¡¯s such a bad idea.¡± Lisa said. She muttered something under her breath. Ben punched the board, not turning to watch as it cracked and fell. ¡°You¡¯re joking, Lisa. Do we have two crazy fucks in this room?¡± Jones stepped closer, looking annoyed. ¡±Well then, genius, tell me your genius plan.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you start, you cunt.¡± Ben said. He rose up to the challenge. ¡°What the fuck are you doing here, anyways? What¡¯re you getting from helping people? You should be working with those bastards.¡± He spat on the table. ¡°None of your business.¡± ¡°It is.¡± Ben bumped against Jones. ¡±Poisoning people? You¡¯re crazy, Jones.¡± Jones looked ready to fight. ¡±I don¡¯t fucking care. I¡¯m here to get shit done.¡± ¡°Get what done? Possibly getting people killed?¡± Ben¡¯s face twisted in fury. ¡°Do you even care about the people, Jones? Do you fucking care about anyone here?¡± He pointed at Watson. ¡°Because it sure don¡¯t look that way to me.¡± Watson suddenly stood between them. He looked very scared. ¡°Don¡¯t fight.¡± He said. He blubbered his words in fear. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s getting us nowhere.¡± Ben looked at Watson¡¯s face. ¡°Why¡¯re you sticking with this asshole?¡± Watson looked back. ¡°I¡­ Nevermind that for now.¡± He breathed in. ¡°I have a proposition.¡± Both of them stared at his face, surprised. ¡°What do you mean?¡± They both said. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Watson fidgeted around. ¡°I have an idea.¡± He looked determined, but frightened. ¡°I mean¡­ If, if we have to do this¡­¡± Jones smacked him on the shoulder. ¡°Get on with it.¡± ¡°I¡­ Well, the problem is that¡­¡± He fumbled with his fingers. ¡°We need to stop them from getting votes, right?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± The three chorused. ¡°I have an idea to do that. Um, I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯ll work¡­¡± Watson gulped. ¡°But I think I can do it, without the poisoning and all that.¡± Ben looked eager to listen. ¡°What¡¯s your idea, Watson?¡± Watson stood silent for a moment. ¡°I¡­ Well, they think I¡¯m a terrorist, right?¡± He replied. ¡°What if¡­ I went with that? What if I announced a terrorist attack, on that day?¡± Jones frowned. ¡±That¡­ Could work.¡± He said, but he looked unsure. ¡°The poisoning would be more secure, though.¡± Ben gave Jones the stink-eye, then turned away. ¡°Watson, that¡¯s a great idea.¡± He clasped his shoulders. ¡°That¡¯s fantastic. We won¡¯t have to resort to harming innocent people.¡± ¡°Interesting proposition, Watson.¡± Lisa said. She was probably rather relieved. ¡°We could support you by hacking into the PSA system. Would make it look more legitimate.¡± Jones still looked unsure. ¡°I¡¯m still not comfortable. You guys already made up your mind?¡± ¡°Of course, Jones.¡± Ben replied. ¡°I¡¯m not fucking poisoning people.¡± ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Jones groaned. ¡°Have it your way. You better make this good, Watson.¡± Watson didn¡¯t look to happy, however. Chapter 9 - The Blame Game 3 The ¡®Greenville Special¡¯ was having an absolute field day. The small publication hadn¡¯t enjoyed much popularity even amongst the local crowd. The young were too busy cutting out pages from Playboy, and for the elderly, they were simply known as the Sudoku-Papers. As a journalistic outlet, they were about as acknowledged as a Buzzfeed. But today was not such a day. They¡¯d run out of copies, in fact. For the first time in the publication¡¯s uneventful 10-year history, they¡¯d needed a second printing. All thanks to a single person, although they¡¯d get jailed for ever saying so. The terrorist, Connor Watson, was on the run. He had been, ever since an awful case of arson and murder in a town a hundred miles away. The wretched scoundrel had snuck himself into the community, and proclaimed that he would strike again. ¡®Anti-Gay Terrorist Connor Watson Announces Act of Terror To Protest Ben Dover¡¯s Candidacy.¡¯ The headline read. It was audacious, it was scandalous, and it was the perfect thing to sell papers. Outside, dozens of people were blabbering about the threat, making speculations and throwing around words like problematic. They spoke with the same excitement one would expect from fans at a Taylor Swift concert. But the event had yet to begin. The Terrorist had claimed he¡¯d make a live appearance on television to make a statement. Now, families across town were glued to the little screen, waiting patiently for the terrorist to make his appearance.
Watson wasn¡¯t ready for this. He wasn¡¯t ready for any of this at all. Just a month ago, he remembered reading the papers, solving Sudoku, sipping some tea- a life, he¡¯d long given up. Now, he was a part of something he had mixed feelings about. Helping people was all well and good, but to be involved in an act of terrorism was different altogether. Well, it was pretend-terrorism. Jones emphasized on that point. Speaking of Jones, he¡¯d helped Watson with the outfit. At first, Jones wanted him to wear a taliban, but Watson had to explain once again that nobody knew who what a ¡®Nine Eleven¡¯ was. Thus, after a long discussion, they settled with a Nazi-Communist getup. Dressed from top to bottom in a dictator¡¯s suit, Watson stroked his long, fake beard. Tensing up, he rose to the podium. The room was mostly empty, only a single podium standing in the middle. Behind him was a green curtain he didn¡¯t quite understand. Jones had said that it¡¯s to ¡®enhance the experience¡¯, but he didn¡¯t understand how a bile-green piece of cloth helped. In any case, he breathed deeply in-and-out, practicing the dialogue in his head. Then the signal came from behind a camera. A finger counted down, three, two, one.
The people of Greenville was shocked to see the scoundrel live on television. One moment, the local news channel ran. The next, they were greeted by a villian. He looked angry, his lips curled into a perpetual frown. His suit exuded the scent of arrogance, and his hat was a blood-red beret. But most unforgivable of all was the offensive scenery in the background. Behind him, one could see his subordinates kicking puppies. Then, his speech began. ¡°Dear Citizens of Greenville.¡± He said, almost choking halfway through. ¡°It¡¯s come to my attention that your little town has begun an election.¡± He tried his best to keep a low tone. ¡°Congratulations. I wasn¡¯t aware insects could try their hands at democracy.¡± ¡°Fools will be Fools,¡± he said. Watson was sweating profusely. ¡±You lot are a disgrace to the history of our nation. I¡¯ve seen your mockery of an election, and the vile insult to my people will be tolerated no longer.¡± He frowned and hammered his fists against the podium. ¡°It disgusts me to see that so many of you are voting for a homosexual. How deep does this well of degeneracy run?¡± He pointed a finger at the camera. ¡°Real Americans would¡¯ve laughed that scum out of the podium. You lot are nothing but filthy Saracens yourselves. You deserve slaughter.¡± The audience gasped and booed at all the right moments. ¡°Me and my boys will be shutting a couple of voting centres down- I trust you will make the right judgement.¡± He flailed his arm around to feign anger. ¡°This farce of an election will be stopped.¡± And with that, the News returned.
Jones gave Watson a thumbs up. ¡°Good Job!¡± He said. ¡°You¡¯ve done better than expected.¡± Jones grabbed a can. ¡°You want one?¡± ¡°Um, no thanks. Still not a fan.¡± Watson shook his head. His palms were sweaty and his knees weak. ¡°I think I need to sit down¡­¡± Ben walked over to help him stand. ¡±Yeah, you deserve that.¡± He smiled. Watson wordlessly stumbled over towards a chair and grabbed a bottle of water. ¡°Jones¡­¡± Ben eyed Jones with contempt. ¡°So, what¡¯s the next step?¡± Jones pointed at Watson. ¡°Well, he¡¯s the ringleader for this one. Why you asking me?¡± Ben rolled his eyes. ¡°You wrote the speech. I don¡¯t get exactly why you¡¯re bashing me in it. I thought the plan was to scare the republicans and youth from voting?¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯re still doing that. We¡¯re doing two things here.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°One is that. The voting centres we¡¯re targeting are the ones in those blocks. Probably enough to dissuade the cowards.¡± Watson watched the two talk. ¡°And what¡¯s the other?¡± He asked. Jones turned to meet Watson¡¯s gaze. ¡±We¡¯re using this opportunity to rally support for Ben.¡± He answered. ¡°Now we need Ben to give some dumbass speech about solidarity and shit. People hate being told what to do, so they¡¯ll want to show this meany bad-bad dictator that they¡¯re going to stand up for their community.¡± Ben snapped his fingers. ¡°So that¡¯s what that was?¡± He said. He looked astonished. ¡°See, it works without poisoning people, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Jones waved him away. ¡±Yeah, yeah. My plan is still better.¡± Ben clenched his fists. ¡°But this ain¡¯t half bad, I gotta say. Especially coming from that guy¡¯s brain.¡± Jones pointed at Watson. Ben relaxed. With a sigh, he asked, ¡±What¡¯re you gonna do now?¡± Jones walked towards Watson. ¡±Get him ready for the finale, of course.¡± He smirked. ¡°We¡¯ve got a terrorist act to launch.¡±
In the distance, a cloud of dust peeked over the horizon. Dozens of angry motors boomed from the desert. As the sound grew closer, the residents of Greenville began evacuating into their homes and buildings. Soon after, a handful of cars emerged, looking very angry with red paint and tacked-on horns. They were the definition of overcompensation, with skulls and bullet holes painted on the sides for extra points.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Inside were the ¡®terrorists¡¯. Appealing to the movie perception of bad guys, they wore mohawks and edgy metal band t-shirts. For added effect, they showed off their painted guns. The ones on showcase were loaded with blanks. In the middle of the caravan was a humvee. Peeking through the center was a lonesome figure. He looked intimidating, his seemingly unflinching gaze piercing the souls of the villagers. He was the leader of the terrorists, as his aura suggested. Under his sunglasses, however, he looked frightened. The convoy rushed into town and headed for the republican block. On the way, they made sure to throw some paintballs and trash some trolly bins for added flair. Their target was the voting station. There were in total four, one for each block. The first one went smoothly. The cops showed up, ready to put up a fight, but these ¡®terrorists¡¯ were members of the resistance. Guerrilla fights were their forte, and the plan wasn¡¯t to have a shootout with the cops. Instead, they threw gas grenades, shot their tires, and rammed the voting station. Ben had pulled some strings to ensure the station would be evacuated. Thus, the terrorists managed to vandalize it without abandon. Before the cops could effectively retaliate, they hauled ass and made their way to the next one. Here was where the real fun began. When they arrived at the next station, a couple cars were in hot pursuit. This one hadn¡¯t been properly guarded, also thanks to some underground connections. But instead, a single man rose to the challenge, megaphone in hand. Conveniently, and also totally coincidentally, a journalist with a camera just happened to be close by. This man was Ben. He stood at the steps of the voting station, a converted old bank. He looked as resolute as ever, prepared to give the audience a good show. ¡°Stop right there, you terrorists!¡± He spoke into the megaphone. Many heads peeked through curtains and gaps, watching with astonishment. ¡°I won¡¯t let you people desecrate my community.¡± Watson gulped, and prepared for his lines. ¡°You? You and what army?¡± He let out a practiced, evil laugh. ¡°We¡¯re here for you, you dumbass.¡± He winced at the crude language. ¡±I don¡¯t need an army.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯ve got my pride- and my community. Greenville won¡¯t back down to you, you scumbags.¡± The cop cars were coming closer and closer, hopping on three wheels and a busted tire. Watson cackled as loudly as he could. ¡±Shoot him.¡± He said. The intercom was enabled. Several gunshots were heard. All blanks, as planned. But Ben was shocked as he stared at a hole under his knee. He howled and bellowed, the pain coursing through his veins. But he continued. Still shaking, Ben stood valiantly, roaring a battlecry through the megaphone. The people that were watching had seen a truly gruesome scene. A valiant hero, fighting off a horde of evil men, for the sake of his beloved community. When the cops arrived, the entire block rushed out in rage, not willing to lose face, either. ¡°Curse you, you bastards!¡± Watson said. The caravan began pulling out of the streets of Greenville. The cops fired a couple potshots, but they couldn¡¯t pull off much. It seemed like the caravan would pull away without a single scratch. Jones threw a glance backwards, grinning like an idiot at a well-executed plan. Just in time to see a masked policeman brandishing a rifle. But Jones¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t meet the other through the scope. Instead, with a bang, a bullet headed for Watson. Jones pulled him into the car as fast as possible. Watson¡¯s beret fell to the ground, torn in half, as the car sped away. A few more shots followed, but they couldn¡¯t keep up. Traps had been planted beforehand to ensure a clean escape. A couple cop cars, and even a civilian one, tried to chase the terrorists down. But a couple well-timed blockades and a couple caltrops ensured a speedy exit. Watching the villains escape, the town cheered for their new hero.
¡°Jones, you crazy motherfucker.¡± Ben said. He sped as fast as he could on his wheelchair. ¡°That was you, wasn¡¯t it? What happened to shooting blanks at me, you asshole?¡± The three were sitting inside the office, with Watson in a ski mask. After the whole spectacle, he was in more risk than ever of exposure. The television was turned on and switched to a local channel. Votes were being counted live, and most candidates were present. Jones continued whistling as he laid on the couch, unfazed. ¡±I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said, glancing away from his book for a moment. ¡±I didn¡¯t do anything like that. Somebody must¡¯ve made a mistake.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you even start.¡± Ben tried to get closer, but mobility was restricted on a wheelchair. ¡±Watson, help me get up. I¡¯m going to punch this asshole.¡± Watson looked helpless while he served himself tea. ¡°Don¡¯t fight, please.¡± He said. ¡°Stop bitching, will you?¡± Jones groaned, sitting himself up straight. ¡°Fine. Punch me later if that¡¯s what gets you off. But I had to do it.¡± ¡°You had to shoot me with a gun?¡± ¡°It was a .22cal. That¡¯s not a gun.¡± Jones said. ¡±We needed extra realism. You know how retarded we¡¯d look if like five of us ¡®missed¡¯ every single shot?¡± Ben tried his best to stand up himself. ¡°You could¡¯ve warned me, jackass.¡± He ground his teeth. ¡°It helped with your acting.¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting a kick to your balls when this heals.¡± Ben rubbed his cast. ¡°Watson, help me get on this couch, will you?¡± Watson hopped over and held his hand. ¡±No problem.¡± He said, helping Ben get into a comfortable seat. ¡°I think the count¡¯s almost over.¡± Jones wordlessly grabbed a remote and turned the volume up. ¡°-and the votes are counted.¡± A reported said. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen- We present to you, the winner of this year¡¯s election, and your next mayor. It is¡­¡± The three stared at the screen. ¡°Ben Dover!¡± The reporter said. He smiled. ¡°Expected, really. 50% of total votes, with the highest voter turnout in our town history. A hero like that¡­ Well, he¡¯s unfortunately not here right now, as he¡¯s been grievously wounded fighting off that criminal. But he¡¯ll be fine for the speech next week, we¡¯re told.¡± Watson clapped. ¡±Congratulations.¡± He said, sighing. ¡°We¡¯re finally done.¡± ¡°Two years, she said.¡± Jones grinned. ¡°What about two weeks, old hag? We fucking did it.¡± Ben grabbed Watson¡¯s shoulder. ¡±Thanks. It¡¯s all thanks to you.¡± He took a glance at Jones. ¡°Not him, though.¡± Watson laughed nervously. ¡±T-thanks.¡± He said. ¡°But, um¡­ Jones helped. A lot. I think.¡± ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m never going to acknowledge that.¡± Ben leaned back. ¡°That was one hell of a ride.¡± ¡°What an understatement.¡± Jones chuckled. ¡±Now we¡¯re finally getting somewhere. This better be good.¡± Watson turned to Jones. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Remember why we¡¯re here?¡± Jones asked, picking his nose. ¡±The secrets in that house. When do we get to check that out?¡± Ben considered for a moment. ¡±The speech is in a week. I¡¯ll get the keys to the office that day.¡± He said. He eyed Watson. ¡±I¡¯d take you with, but you¡¯d be a bit too risky. You saw the masked officers? Skinks, I think. Pretty good with smells.¡± ¡°You¡¯re probably just grabbing some files, anyways.¡± Jones stood up and stretched. ¡±Can¡¯t be a big deal. I¡¯m going out to smoke a cig and piss.¡± He stepped outside of the office. ¡°I hope he doesn¡¯t throw the buds in the urinal again.¡± Watson said. Ben relaxed in his seat. ¡°I really didn¡¯t think we¡¯d get this far.¡± He said. ¡°I have to say it¡¯s kind of a weird feeling, you know?¡± Ben grabbed a can of beer on the table. ¡°How so?¡± Watson asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been undercover for over two years now.¡± He chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m a proper part of this community now. I know all these people, and well¡­ After we get the files, I¡¯m heading back to base.¡± Watson contemplated something. ¡°Do you¡­ Have to go back?¡± He said, leaning in. ¡°I mean¡­ Couldn¡¯t you just continue living like normal?¡± Ben laughed, coughing as he couldn¡¯t swallow properly. ¡°I wish I could.¡± He said. ¡°But I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Watson looked uncomfortable. ¡°Well, I told you. I know this community like the back of my hand.¡± He said, taking a sip. ¡°Two years is a long time- people keep coming and going.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°Most people don¡¯t realize it,¡± Ben stared blankly. ¡°But many of the ones that go¡­ Well, they don¡¯t exist anymore.¡± A chill ran down Watson¡¯s spine. ¡°I checked, you know. The official statistic is forged. Disappearances have increased by 500% since 1950.¡± He grimaced. ¡±Sometimes, they ¡®leave for a trip¡¯. Sometimes they¡¯re just gone.¡± Watson gripped his cup tightly. Ben took a swig. ¡°And that¡¯s why I joined in the first place. Can¡¯t stop fighting now, can I?¡± He smiled, and offered Watson his can. ¡°For the resistance.¡± He cheered. Watson sheepishly took a sip. ¡°...For the resistance.¡± He said. It was very bitter.
Back in the resistance base, the crowd was rowdy. There hadn¡¯t been a breakthrough in a very long time. Leads were few and far between, and most of their efforts were spent on simply disrupting the Lizardmen. But everything changed when Ben returned with a serious expression and a more serious looking suitcase. He plopped the heavy leather bag on the conference table surrounded by important people. Jones and Watson were present as well. The tension rose as Ben started cracking the locks open. Inside was a dusty old journal. It was marked with an odd symbol most had never seen before. The journal was titled: ¡®The Nevada Experiment¡¯. Suddenly, Jones burst out laughing. He gripped his sides before they could fly into orbit. He giggled like a madman and rolled on the ground while the others watched in utter confusion. ¡°What¡¯s so funny, Jones?¡± Lisa asked, her face twisted into a scowl. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time for jokes.¡± ¡°What¡¯s not funny about that?¡± Jones said. ¡°I fucking knew they¡¯d be involved somehow.¡± ¡°...Who?¡± Ben asked. He looked very irritated. Jones pointed at the symbol. ¡±The Illuminati, obviously.¡± Chapter 10 - Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies 1 ¡°What do you mean, the Illuminati?¡± Lisa squinted her eyes. Watson could feel the pressure. All eyes were directed at Jones, who still couldn¡¯t control himself. Chuckling, Jones stroked his fingers over the marking, feeling the curves indent, forming the sigil of the Illuminati- the triangle with the eye inside. Curious eyes blinked in surprise as he flipped open the page. The title read: ¡°In Nomine Deus. For the brothers to come after. Long live the Illuminati.¡± Jones slowly repeated those words. His voice grew more triumphant with each recital. ¡°You going to explain or what, Jones?¡± Ben shot him an annoyed look. Jones matched his glance. ¡°Sure, sure.¡± He said. ¡°But I thought I¡¯m the delusional one here?¡± ¡°Coincidences can happen.¡± Lisa sighed. ¡±Just get on with it.¡± Jones held up the book high above for all to see, pointing his finger at the emblem. ¡°This right here.¡± He said. ¡±Is the mark of the Illuminati. A secret society that¡¯s been around since the middle ages.¡± ¡°And you know this, how¡­?¡± Ben asked, crossing his arms. ¡°They¡¯re kinda famous where I¡¯m from.¡± Jones said. He was grinning like madman. ¡°You know, my world.¡± Watson gulped. ¡±So¡­ What do they do?¡± Jones stepped one of his feet on his chair, earning himself a few displeased looks from the staff. He pointed a finger at Watson. ¡±Glad you asked.¡± He smirked. ¡±It¡¯s a kinda long story, though, might wanna grab yourself some tea.¡± ¡°The express version,¡± Lisa coughed. ¡°We don¡¯t have that much time.¡± ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Jones shrugged. ¡°Basically, they¡¯re a bunch of rich assholes trying to control the world from the shadows.¡± ¡°And they did that, how exactly?¡± Ben said. ¡°And how does anybody know, then?¡± Jones pondered for a moment. ¡±...The details aren¡¯t that important.¡± A few onlookers deflated. ¡°But well, it was a bunch of politicians, so just imagine corrupt people making a council. That¡¯s pretty much what it supposedly was, in my world.¡± ¡°Your world, huh¡­¡± Lisa tapped her fingers. ¡±Supposedly, you say? So you don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°Nobody really knows.¡± Jones frowned. ¡±Well, nobody was supposed to know. But a couple politicians dropped a hint here and there, about ¡®the New World Order¡¯ and all that.¡± Ben slammed his hand against the table. ¡±I don¡¯t buy it.¡± He said, his gaze sharp. ¡±I still don¡¯t buy into that whole multiverse bullcrap. Where the hell are you from, Jones?¡± Jones stared him down. ¡°I told you already.¡± ¡°Yeah, you fed us a whole load of crap.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the dumbass who decided that.¡± ¡°Are you telling me smart people are supposed to believe half the shit you say?¡± ¡°Exactly what I¡¯m saying. At least you admit you aren¡¯t smart.¡± Lisa walked between the two. ¡±Shut up, both of you.¡± She said. ¡±You¡¯re getting nowhere, gents.¡± ¡°While I don¡¯t personally believe his origin story either,¡± Lisa paused, and turned to Watson. ¡±At least Watson here seems to back for Mr. Jones.¡± Watson pointed at himself. ¡°Uh¡­ Me? I mean, I did pick him up from the middle of a desert¡­¡± Ben stared at Watson. ¡±What if he¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°Mr. Jones is still a useful asset.¡± Lisa said. ¡°And until now, he¡¯s been loyal, hasn¡¯t he?¡± Ben sat down with a grunt. ¡°I don¡¯t like the way you describe him. Loyal.¡± Jones snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t, either.¡± ¡°Whatever.¡± She said. Lisa snatched the book from Jones¡¯s hand. ¡°You two can fight whenever you feel like. We¡¯ve got better things to do right now.¡± She laid the journal down on the table. The entire room inched closer as she flipped through the first proper page. ¡°The journal of Horace Bush.¡± She read aloud. ¡°A record of the organization¡¯s ¡®Nevada Plan¡¯.¡± ¡°This journal was created to keep an official record of my involvement with the ¡®Nevada Plan¡¯, or as it was officially known, the ¡®Nevada Project¡¯.¡± She said. She ran her fingers over each and every word. ¡±Only my experiences, and no one else¡¯s, is written down. For full disclosure, I was not a part of the initial, nor the final, parts of this plan.¡± She flipped to the next page. ¡°The journal can be divided into three parts,¡± she said. ¡±The beginnings of the project, the middle, and the aftermath. The beginning and the aftermath is mostly anecdotal.¡± ¡°How many pages is this thing?¡± Jones asked, staring blankly at the paper. Lisa quickly flipped through to the final page. ¡°Roughly¡­¡± She paused. ¡±A hundred.¡±
Unlike the journal¡¯s original entrance, the room was now mostly empty, save for a couple snoring soldiers hunkering down in a corner. In the middle of the room, where the big oaken table stood, sat Lisa and Watson. Lisa wore a pair of reading glasses and scanned passage after passage. Watson sat passively, waiting for her to make a remark, and jotted some notes down. Jones stumbled in with a bottle of Brandy. A yawning Ben followed. ¡°How¡¯s the novel?¡± Jones grinned, looking like an idiot. ¡±Is it getting a movie?¡± Lisa shot him a disappointed look, and turned to Ben. ¡°I tried to stop him.¡± Ben said. His tone was apologetic. ¡°But he tried drinking the molotovs.¡± Watson gave his comrade an understanding look. ¡°But my bottle?¡± Lisa sounded annoyed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have anything else.¡± Ben saluted. ¡°Hey, hey, you can¡¯t just keep this good stuff to yourself.¡± Jones giggled and tumbled. ¡±Anyways, really, how¡¯s the book?¡± Lisa clapped the book shut. ¡°It¡¯s great. Really interesting, actually.¡± She said. ¡°We¡¯ve gone through it twice. Thanks to Watson, we¡¯ve got the highlights down.¡± Ben gave them a thumbs up. ¡±That¡¯s great. Should I get the boys here for a meeting?¡± Lisa yawned, and hastily covered her mouth. ¡°No, no. I need some sleep before that.¡± She said. ¡°But I do need to talk to you two. Well, you three.¡± Watson perked up. ¡±About what?¡± Lisa pointed at the notes. ¡°We need to talk about the details.¡± ¡°Found anything interesting?¡± Jones kept grinning. He fell to the floor, and contently hugged one of the asleep soldiers. ¡°Yes. Quite a lot, actually.¡± She said, rifling through some notes of her own. ¡°This is incredible. We may be getting somewhere, for the first time in a while. We really should¡¯ve rushed this earlier.¡± Ben leaned against a wall. ¡±Just what is it about?¡± His eyebrows were clenched. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what could be so important.¡± Lisa considered for a moment. ¡±It¡¯s not... What¡¯s in the book itself that¡¯s a huge breakthrough.¡± She rubbed her chin. ¡°The implications. If what I¡¯m guessing is right, it¡¯s more than just huge.¡± ¡°So¡­ We have a new lead, then?¡± Ben asked. ¡°Yes. If this is as important as I think it is,¡± she breathed in and out. ¡±What we may find there could completely change our position.¡± ¡°There?¡± Jones said. He looked up from puking in a nearby trash can. Lisa looked disgusted. ¡°Let me explain from the beginning. Actually, why don¡¯t you start? I might need a little break.¡± She turned to Watson. ¡°Me?¡± Watson said, looking surprised. ¡±Oh, sure.¡± ¡°Well, basically, I¡¯ve got the cliffnotes here¡­¡± He rummaged through his notes. ¡°This guy, Horace Bush, was an initiate member for the order. Um, the Illuminati.¡± ¡°He was a newer member, so they didn¡¯t tell him much about the ongoing projects, but¡­¡± Watson paused to look for another sheet. ¡±He was a Bush, so they needed him for capital and political power.¡± ¡°So what were they up to?¡± Ben found himself a chair to sit down on. ¡°Well, Jones was¡­ Mostly right.¡± Watson took a glance at Jones, still hugging his newfound best friend. ¡±They were trying to gain enough influence to essentially unite the world.¡± He said. Ben shot him an incredulous look. ¡°Yeah... He¡¯s weirdly right about all this stuff, isn¡¯t he?¡± Watson looked apologetic. ¡±Anyhow¡­ This Horace person got involved in the middle of the project. From his understanding, this ¡®Nevada Project¡¯, was a plan to access¡­ Different worlds.¡± Watson glanced at Jones again.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Ben pointed at Jones. ¡°You aren¡¯t saying that guy¡¯s somehow involved, right?¡± Watson shook his head. ¡°No... This was over fifty years ago.¡± He said. ¡°Horace didn¡¯t know what the plan entailed, just that it had that specific goal in mind. He was allowed to visit the facility exactly once, but was blindfolded on the way.¡± ¡°He wrote that it looked ¡®beyond fantastical. Like a set at Hollywood¡¯. And the laboratory was littered with ¡®elements and machinery beyond his comprehension¡¯.¡± Watson reached for another stack of papers. ¡°But here come the interesting parts.¡± Ben straightened his back. ¡°Go ahead.¡± ¡°So... The aftermath.¡± Watson paused. ¡±The plan ended in...1959, in November. After that, I¡¯m sure you know, the political climate of the USA completely flipped.¡± Ben¡¯s mouth hung open, and he seemed ready to say something. ¡°Before you say something,¡± Watson said. ¡°The plan was noted down as a failure, though. Horace notes it was a very hush-hush affair. Apparently something happened in the span of two weeks.¡± Jones wiped his mouth using his shirt and found a place to sit down. ¡°What¡¯d I miss?¡± Ben rolled his eyes. ¡±Not much.¡± Watson¡¯s eyes wandered between the two. ¡°Anyways¡­ That¡¯s pretty much how it ends. The Illuminati ended basically right then and there. The meetings abruptly stopped.¡± Watson pulled out a well-worn piece of paper. ¡°Only one more thing.¡± Ben moved closer, his ears ahead. ¡°What thing?¡± ¡°He mentions more extensive records may have survived.¡± Watson said. ¡±Most of the records regarding the project were burned. It¡¯s why he wrote this. But he says a friend of his, Richard Clinton, hid a journal of his own at an abandoned, nearly forgotten Illuminati temple.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re going to grab another Journal?¡± Jones¡¯s head wobbled around. ¡°Um¡­ I think so.¡± ¡°Lisa?¡± Ben said, looking over his shoulder. Lisa was snoring quietly at a corner. He shook Lisa awake. ¡±Hey, Lisa?¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± She jolted up. Blushing, she dusted herself off, and ironed her face. ¡°Uh¡­ What¡¯s the matter?¡± ¡°First off, go to your quarters if you need sleep.¡± Ben smiled. He pointed down the hallway. ¡°And second, what¡¯s the plan? You thought about the next step?¡± Lisa flicked his forehead. ¡±It¡¯s commander for you.¡± She grinned. ¡°But yes. Assuming Watson filled you in, we¡¯re going to that temple. Horace left a map in his journal.¡± Jones stumbled towards the exit. ¡±Well, if that¡¯s all¡­¡± He stabilized himself against a wall. ¡°I¡¯m going to the toilet.¡±
The crew were assembled into three separate cars, each driven by two members of the resistance. Leading the charge was the sandstorm-brown humvee, with Ben driving in the front. Jones was damned to his hell, the British Leyland. Watson gently hummed to himself, driving at the perfect speed to put a grandma to sleep. Nobody wanted Jones on the wheel. ¡°How much longer?¡± Jones tantrumed in the back seat, throwing a magazine away. ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡± Watson said, looking in the back mirror. ¡°Only a mile away now.¡± ¡°Finally.¡± Jones groaned. ¡°Where the hell are we, anyways?¡± Watson looked at the map lying beside him. ¡°Uh¡­ This is California¡­ I think we¡¯re in ElDorado national forest? I was enjoying the scenery a bit too much. Sorry.¡± ¡°Commiefornia, huh?¡± Jones stood up. ¡°Just how far away is this goddamn place?¡± ¡°Well, here.¡± ¡°You get what I mean.¡± Jones kicked the seat. ¡°Thank god we¡¯re getting off here.¡± Watson watched a pair of birds fly by. ¡°This is pretty neat, I think.¡± He smiled. ¡°It¡¯s nice to take a break sometimes.¡± Jones snorted. ¡°That¡¯s exactly why you¡¯re single, Watson.¡± Watson groaned. ¡°I¡¯m not getting into that again.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just banter, Watson.¡± Jones grinned. ¡°Sure it is.¡± Watson mumbled. ¡±Oh, look, they¡¯re slowing down.¡± Ahead, the two cars flashed their brakelights, creeping to a slow halt. The others started getting out. ¡°Finally.¡± Jones said, kicking the door open. Watson winced as he heard the crack. The two got off, walking ahead to join the main group. Six people were present in total. Besides Jones, Watson, Lisa and Ben, two other resistance members had been recruited. Jones affectionately called them Fodder #1 and #2, but Watson didn¡¯t know their names to counter him with. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± Lisa said, pointing at the treelines. ¡°I see exactly nothing.¡± Jones said. ¡°Look more carefully.¡± Ben said. ¡°You see that glimmer? It¡¯s a hatch.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Jones said. ¡°You¡¯re right. I thought it¡¯d be more dramatic than that.¡± Lisa chuckled. ¡±Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s not more dramatic inside.¡± ¡°I think you just jinxed it.¡± Ben said. He walked towards the humvee, and pried the back door open. Jones returned to his own car and cracked the boot open. Inside were two bags. Kits, prepared for this expedition. The base was supposedly very large, and this was only one of a series of openings. He pulled out the two bags and handed one over to Watson. ¡°Thanks.¡± Watson said. ¡°What did you pack in yours?¡± He began pullings things out. ¡°Eh¡­ A molotov, a couple extra magazines, and Spam.¡± Jones answered. ¡°Why¡¯s your pack full of carabiners and rope?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got headlamps too.¡± Watson said, showing two off. ¡°And water. And¡­ A medkit. You never know.¡± Jones laughed. ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll get to use any of those, Watson.¡± He said. ¡°Let¡¯s get walkin¡¯ before the others go in without us.¡± He pointed at the rest of the group. Ben had already started to descend. Watson hastily packed his bag. ¡°Oh¡­ Yes.¡± The entrance was a hatch, similar to design to a submarine entrance. The steel was clearly aged, but not rusted. It was made out of very good metal. The local foliage made for a good cover. Watson doubted that they could¡¯ve found the hatch without the specific location or an insane amount of luck. The descent was uncomfortable and scary. At first glance, the narrow concrete tunnel seemed to stretch down infinitely. The stagnant air rushing past didn¡¯t help with that impression. Their teammates slowly descending into darkness, suddenly not becoming visible, added an extra layer of fear. Watson gulped as he climbed down step by step. It wasn¡¯t as deep as first impressions led to believe. About fifty meters down, Watson reached the ground. At the bottom, everyone was waiting. When he arrived, they flicked on the headlamps. Watson handed one out to Jones. ¡°I knew this would come in handy.¡± Jones dismissively took it out of his hands, ignoring his triumphant expression. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Lisa started walking. ¡±You boys ready to get going?¡± She asked, turning back. ¡°Coming.¡± They both said, joggling lightly to catch up.
The outsides really didn¡¯t match the inside. Unlike the cramped entrance, the hallways were broad and tall. The air was musky with the scent of age, and the only occasionally functioning, dim lighting did not help the mood. The occupied rooms were full of bookcases and tables. They were mostly of obscure topics, obscure even to the oddly knowledgeable Jones. Rows and rows were dedicated to politics, philosophy and arts, but none of them contained the knowledge they seeked. First signs of trouble showed up a couple rooms in. Jones yanked a book off the shelf, hoping to discover some secret room or mechanism. And a secret mechanism they did find. With a clink, a javelin sprang forth from a wall, heading rapidly towards Jones. Fortunately, he had moved, and the javelin clashed against the wall, dropping to the floor with a clang. The party stood still. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Jones said. ¡°Holy. Fucking. Shit.¡± Jones repeated, with a bit more oomph. ¡°I think this means we need to be more careful.¡± Lisa said, exhaling loudly. ¡°From now on, nobody touch anything without checking it out first. We step into rooms one by one, and not before it¡¯s cleared.¡± But that didn¡¯t stop things from escalating. The next room they entered, it was a piano wire aimed at their legs. The one after that, caltrops hidden under the silk carpet. Fodder #1, true to his name, learned a lesson from that. It was after the fifth room- and the third staircase downwards- that Jones snapped. A low rumble came from the ceiling. ¡°Just what in the fuck were these assholes planning?¡± He said, punching and kicking the walls. ¡°Calm down, Jones.¡± Watson said. He was sweating profusely. ¡°What the fuck? Swinging fucking axe blades? What is this, Indiana Fucking Jones?¡± ¡°I think we¡¯re all very angry about this, Jones.¡± Lisa sat down. Ben grabbed a bottle of water. ¡°Drink up and calm down.¡± He said. ¡°No.¡± He said. He kept throwing a fit. ¡°What¡¯s going to be next? Anyone got the script for the Crystal Skull here?¡± ¡°Jones, stop kicking.¡± Watson said, laying his hand on Jones¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What if something happens?¡± ¡°Like what?¡± Jones turned, his face scrunched up in anger. The rumble grew louder. ¡°I mean, there¡¯s could be anything.¡± Watson said, wiping his sweat off. Jones gave the wall a good last smack. ¡°Fuck, this is irritating.¡± He said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe how much we¡¯ve slowed down because of this shit. How much further do we have to go?¡± Lisa pointed down the hallway. ¡°Well, I think it¡¯s safe to say a nice, long while.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t that be fun.¡± Ben pulled out a box of sandwiches. ¡°Anybody want a sandwich?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take one.¡± Watson said. ¡°Me, too.¡± Lisa reached for a sandwich. Jones reluctantly grabbed himself one too. ¡°Is this peanut butter?¡± He took a bit. ¡°Bleh. Jelly only?¡± ¡°Oh. I wanted that one.¡± Watson looked disappointed. The rumble grew very close. ¡°Here. Take it.¡± Jones passed his sandwich. ¡°Do you guys here that?¡± Fodder #2 said. Fodder #1 had been sent back to the car. Jones stepped back. ¡°You speak?¡± He asked. Lisa smacked the back of his head. ¡°Of course he speaks.¡± ¡°Um, I didn¡¯t know that either.¡± Ben said, raising his hand. ¡°I can speak.¡± Fodder #2¡¯s eyes were glassy like a puppy¡¯s. ¡°Seriously. Can you guys hear that?¡± Jones pointed at Watson. ¡°You sure he didn¡¯t just fart?¡± Watson stood up, breadcrumbs falling from his shirt. ¡±I did not.¡± ¡°Maybe it was her.¡± Jones turned to Lisa. She smacked him again. ¡°Or maybe not.¡± ¡°It was me. I admit.¡± Ben said, keeping his hand raised. ¡°But I don¡¯t think that was it.¡± ¡°What did you have for breakfast?¡± Jones clenched his nose. ¡°What else could it be?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s above us.¡± Fodder #2 said. At that moment, the ceiling cracked open, a good seventy meters behind them, right at the top of the staircase. Out came rolling a massive iron ball, slowly gaining speed and heading for the steps, threatening to accelerate. ¡°Oh, fuck me.¡± Jones said. He didn¡¯t bother looking behind as he booked it. He somehow knew everyone else would do the same.
They ran down hallway after hallway, always closely avoiding traps after traps. Caltrops, arrows, and bullets all made an entrance, but good movement and a lot of luck pulled them through. In the end, they finally reached a turn, and watched as the ball crashed halfway into the wall with an earth-shuddering crack. Everyone was alive, albeit a bit more bruised, and huffing like crazy. The party collectively collapsed on the ground. After they settled down, Jones began laughing. ¡°This is just fucking crazy.¡± He choked. ¡±I swear, is this a fucking cartoon?¡± Ben jolted up. ¡°Don¡¯t you start.¡± He said. ¡°This is your fucking fault, you know that? We almost just died.¡± Jones raised himself. ¡°The hell do you want now?¡± He stared at Ben. ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡± ¡°Your attitude, Jones, you ass.¡± Ben gnashed his teeth. ¡°You piss me off. Let me bet your tantruming set the damn ball free.¡± ¡°Now, now, why don¡¯t we calm down¡­¡± Watson said, sneaking closer. ¡°Stop, Watson. Just stop.¡± Jones said. ¡°I want to hear what Mr. Dover here wants to say. Just how big is the stick up your ass?¡± ¡°Big enough to choke you with.¡± Ben said, his face twisted in anger. ¡°It¡¯s a nightmare to work with you, Jones.¡± Ben turned to Lisa. ¡°Aren¡¯t you gonna say anything?¡± Lisa glared at Ben. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a part of this, no.¡± She said. ¡°But if I have to- I think we can definitely cooperate better.¡± ¡°You too, huh?¡± Jones bitterly smiled. ¡°You know what? Fine.¡± He stood up. ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± Ben asked, watching him walk away. Jones pointed at the path ahead. It split into two. ¡±I¡¯m going that way.¡± He pointed to the left. ¡°Don¡¯t fucking follow me. Meet you outside.¡± ¡°Wait.¡± Lisa said. ¡°No, don¡¯t even start. Just take your damn break and take the right.¡± He waved her off. Watson jogged towards Jones. ¡±Don¡¯t go, Jones.¡± He said, raising his hand to grab his shoulder. Jones brushed the hand off. ¡±Stay behind, Watson. Stick with the cool kids.¡± He said, speed walking away. Watson stood still, unsure of what to do. At Jones, who was steadily gaining ground, he said: ¡°Wait up, Jones! Come back!¡± Jones raised but a finger. Then a click echoed through the hallway. Everyone stood still, anticipating another disaster. Then, the ceiling collapsed behind Jones, leaving him and the group separated. Chapter 11 - Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies 2 ¡°Jones!¡± Watson said, his hands shaped around his mouth. ¡±Are you fine?¡± There was no response. Watson doubted for a moment a response would come at all. He frantically grabbed pieces of rubble, trying to force his way through the stack of rocks. He estimated that the rubble wall was about a meter or two thick, and he Watson panicked. ¡°Jones!¡± He said again. His hands were getting dirty. ¡°...¡¯m fine!¡± A reply came from the other side. ¡°Fuck, what just happened?¡± Watson breathed out. ¡±Thank god, Jones.¡± He said. ¡°Can you hear us?¡± ¡°You think I¡¯d answer if I didn¡¯t?¡± Watson stood up and dusted his pants. ¡°Um, good point.¡± He said. Lisa stepped next to Watson. ¡°Jones, do you see a way back?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± He said. ¡°But I see a way down. I¡¯ll go down this way.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a bad idea, Jones.¡± Watson said, looking worried. ¡°Just wait there, we¡¯ll get you.¡± ¡°Nah, screw that. You aren¡¯t getting past this pile of rubble anyways.¡± Jones answered. ¡°You kids go down your way. I¡¯m going down.¡± His voice grew fainter with each word. ¡°Jones? Jones!¡± Watson shouted. But there was no reply. Watson turned towards his party. ¡°We have to go get him!¡± Ben cursed under his breath. ¡±A prick as always.¡± He said. ¡°I disagree, Watson.¡± Watson stared wide-eyed at Ben. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°We should get going, is what I mean.¡± He said. ¡°He¡¯s right. We aren¡¯t getting past the rubble.¡± Lisa avoided Watson¡¯s puppy-like gaze. ¡±I think Ben¡¯s right.¡± She said. ¡°We can¡¯t just dally around here. We need to find what we came down here for.¡± Watson looked desperate. ¡±You can¡¯t be serious. We¡¯re just going to abandon him?¡± ¡°We aren¡¯t abandoning anyone. He went down on his own volition.¡± Ben said, glaring at Watson. ¡°And honestly, I¡¯m done trying to give a shit.¡± ¡°But¡­ But¡­¡± Watson said. Lisa clasped Watson¡¯s shoulder. ¡±Watson.¡± She tightened her grip. ¡°We can¡¯t just abandon our mission for one person.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯d say that.¡± Watson said, teary-eyed. ¡°I thought we¡¯re all about helping people. You guys aren¡¯t better than him, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say that again.¡± Ben gnashed his teeth. He breathed out. ¡°Whatever. Watson, you can stay back if you like. But we have to get going.¡± Lisa led the charge, wordlessly pointing at the other two to follow. She, and Fodder #2, gave Watson a pitiful glance over their shoulders as they turned to face the dark hallway.
Jones stepped carefully, knowing every last step could, well, be his last. He couldn¡¯t make much progress with the danger of traps looming above him. Like peeking into a maiden¡¯s panties, he had to make sure it wasn¡¯t packing a bulge. Thus, security was of utmost importance. Last carpet he¡¯d uncovered had a large package swinging downwards- a log, aimed squarely (or roundly) at his buttocks. Jones wasn¡¯t the bottom kind of guy, unfortunately. He managed to dodge it in time. So far, it hadn¡¯t been that bad. The traps escalated with each floor, but he hadn¡¯t encountered anything as close as the steel ball yet. He really hoped this type of ball didn¡¯t come in sets. But treading carefully had taken a toll on his speedrunning mentality. Why do things slowly, when you could do it quickly? And that where the books came in. So far, he¡¯d found two new rooms. Both were laced with a couple caltrops, but nothing too bad. They were unique in the sense that somehow, they made a secret Illuminati hideout as boring as a library. Their selection in literature had a lot of improvements to make. So far, he¡¯d found the books useful only as a pack of tissues. Well, besides the playboy magazines under the bed. Somebody had good taste in milfs. Thank god there sure were a lot of tissues lying around. But he found a better way to use the books. Using a carpet, he dragged a stack of books out of the rooms and into the unexplored hallway. Methodically, he threw a book a meter ahead, then two meters, then three. The third book landed with a click, and two flamethrowers folded out of the walls, burning the book to ashes. He smiled, and continued this routine, advancing meter by meter, dropping the milli. The escalation of traps became clear. Before, they had a couple stake launchers, some spikes, ball bearings on steps and all- but now, he was faced with acid spitters, fork launchers, and even a couple turrets. Thankfully for Jones, the book trick worked perfectly, and he proceeded without trouble. About a hundred meters ahead, he saw a large opening.
Watson fiddled his fingers and stepped from wall to wall, deeply sunken into contemplation. His eyes were wet, his knees were weak, and his arms heavy. Staring at the ground, he periodically glanced at the rubble and chewed on his fingers. Watson was terrified. He wasn¡¯t ready for any of this. He never was. In fact, he didn¡¯t want to be here. He hated the darkness, he hated the damp air, and the sounds terrified him. Each clink, each crack, each snap, all filled with so much dreadful possibility. He knew the others were talking sense. He should¡¯ve just went with them. Watson was a coward after all. He knew that best. Jones was right. What could he do alone? It would be best to just give up. Run away. Maybe join the others, maybe climb to the surface. Perhaps Fodder #1 needed help with his wound. He¡¯d gone up earlier. There was no shame in that. But he couldn¡¯t just sit back. Watson rubbed his pistol. His grandfather wouldn¡¯t be happy if he ran. Watson didn¡¯t think he himself would be either. Then what could he do? He wracked his head around, giving it a good smack against a wall for good measure. But nothing came up. No brilliant ideas. He looked around, looking for some solution, when his eyes rested on the steel ball they¡¯d run from. It¡¯d gone through the wall, crashing about three meters deep into it. The rubble was about two thick. Also, what did Fodder #1 carry in his pack? The thing he carried back to the surface? Watson didn¡¯t hesitate. He ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Jones neared the opening. This one, unlike the others, didn¡¯t have a door. Instead, it was stylized with a stone archway. A gust of air blew past him, bringing with it the smell of sulfur. Past the opening was a large clearing. A crevasse. The crevasse was as its widest point about fifty meters wide. Jones couldn¡¯t tell how deep it was, but he didn¡¯t like his chances. The spots of crimson really didn¡¯t help that feeling, and neither did the gushing warm air coming up the crevasse. Placed in front of him was a bridge. One of those old-timey rope things. It creaked under the gusts of wind, and swung back and forth. He wondered how Watson would react to the bridge. Piss his pants off, probably. He heard a worrying sound behind him. A thunderous crackle, followed by a quake. But after moments of waiting for something to happen, nothing did. Shrugging, he ventured onwards. Stepping onto the oaken panels, he confirmed that they were solid. The rope holding it together wasn¡¯t cheap either. It was a thick, meaty bunch of metal threads, all clumped together. Jones quickly paced across the bridge. On the other side was another opening. This one was twice as wide as the other one, and designed to look like a maw. Threatening. Beyond it was a circular room, clearly manmade. The walls were smooth and curved, and the open space resembled a half-sphere. Jones approximated about twenty meters in diameter and fifteen in height. The floor, besides the first two steps, were made up of tiles, spiralling into a circle. The tiles were engraved with runes. Jones made a mistake when he didn¡¯t use his book technique. He stepped in, only to fall through the tile. Losing his balance, Jones sank through, chunks of rubble joining him on the way down. Thankfully, the fall wasn¡¯t too deep. About ten meters in, he splashed into a deep pool of water. There was no way out. The pool was about three meters deep, so he couldn¡¯t stand in it, either. His only luck was that a sizable piece of rubble was floating next to him. It supported his weight, but it seemed to sink a little, minute by minute. Jones sighed. He didn¡¯t expect rescue. The others were likely on a completely different section of the underground base. By then, he¡¯ll have drowned, or frozen to death. Nobody would come for him. He didn¡¯t think they really cared anyways. Besides, he made it a personal rule not to expect anything from anyone. He had enough experience dealing with people to know not to. He rummaged through his bag. At least he had all the time in the world and a playboy magazine to keep him warm. His last glimmers of hope faded as he realized the magazine came apart from being soaked. And they wondered why he was an atheist.
Jones had been lying there for about ten minutes. Suddenly, he began hearing sounds. At first, they were very distant. The odd thing was that they sounded familiar. The arrows clashing against the wall. The log clinking on a chain. The acid splashing away. All sounds of the traps he¡¯d traversed. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard a pathetic yelp echoed a hundredfold. Jones would recognize that shout anywhere. It belong to Watson. Astounded, Jones looked towards the ceiling. Five minutes later, Watson¡¯s face popped up. He was pale. The rescue would¡¯ve been more inspirational were it not for his hero¡¯s puke splashing against the pool he swam in. Jones¡¯s eyes widened. He struggled to pick his jaw back up. ¡°Watson?¡± He asked. ¡°Is that you?¡± ¡°It¡¯s me.¡± Watson¡¯s cheeks bulged again. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± He spat another batch out. ¡°Why the hell are you here?¡± Jones¡¯s mouth creased to a grin. ¡°I¡­ Uh, couldn¡¯t leave you alone.¡± Watson paused to pant. ¡±I split up to find you.¡± ¡°How the fuck did you get past that rubble?¡± Jones rubbed his temple. ¡°I went to the surface¡­ To the car. Fodder #1¡¯s bag had a grenade, I remembered.¡± Watson said. ¡°I blasted the iron ball free. It crashed into the rubble and cleared the path.¡± ¡°Is that what I heard?¡± Jones giggled. ¡°Watson, I underestimated you.¡± Watson tried to smile, but he went sick again. ¡°You gonna get me out now or what?¡± Jones said. ¡°Hope you¡¯ve got a plan for this one.¡± Watson pulled out a coil of rope from his bag. ¡°I thought you said this would be useless.¡± ¡°Two things I¡¯m wrong about today, then.¡± Jones smirked. ¡±I¡¯ll let you use the boy¡¯s bathroom now. You got something to tie that to?¡± Watson looked around. ¡°I think I can tie it to the bridge.¡± He said. Moments later, he returned, lowering the length down the pool. It just barely tipped the water¡¯s surface.
After that, everything went smoothly. It turned out the runes had to be stepped on in order. Jones guessed that it spelled out some name, but they found a better way to proceed. By tying a bundle of books to Watson¡¯s rope, they tested which bricks were safe to stand on. Half an hour later, they crossed the room, and reacher yet another opening. This one led into a temple. The walls were lined with tapestry and portraits. They soon figured out that the pictures were of past Illuminati leaders. Upon this discovery, Jones found the biggest one, and pissed on it. After looking around for traps, they found none. The books here were far more interesting than those before. They consisted of notes and journals, all belonging to high-ranking members of the organization. The two began shifting through the books. ¡°Did you know they tried to lace Coke with LSD?¡± Jones said, breaking the silence. ¡±This shit¡¯s pretty crazy, Watson. I hadn¡¯t heard of half this shit before.¡± ¡°Jones.¡± Watson said, his eyes glued to the pages. ¡°Come over here. I think I found it.¡± ¡°Already?¡± Jones looked at the mountains of books piled in the room. Watson faced Jones. ¡°Well, I used to work in a library.¡± Jones sneezed. ¡°I figured out their system¡­ It¡¯s ordered by date. This shelf is until 1960.¡± Watson said. Jones walked over. ¡±So what is it?¡± Watson held up the book. It was a leather-bound journal. ¡°The diary of Lewis Greene.¡± He read. ¡°The last leader of the Illuminati.¡± Jones snatched it away. ¡°Let me see that.¡± ¡°Check the last fifteen pages. That¡¯s the section about ¡®the Nevada Project¡¯.¡± Watson said, pointing at the backside. Jones flipped through the yellow-stained pages. ¡°¡®The Nevada Project¡¯.¡± Jones read aloud. ¡°Started in 1938.¡± He stared at those words. ¡°I thought this was during the fifties?¡± ¡°It ended at 1959.¡± Watson replied. ¡°Just read it.¡± Jones silently scanned through. ¡°The Nevada Project was greenlit after a coinflip. It was initially a project to research teleportation, but it made little to no progress in the early stages. That changed in 1947, with the Roswell incident.¡± ¡°The government acquired alien material. We managed to influence the higher-ups into giving us the material, which proved crucial to our research. It ended up completely overhauling out target. We now focused on spacetime travel.¡± ¡°Dr. Steiner headed the research. A refugee from Operation Paperclip, he was a genius. He theorized that the two devices we acquired were an alien battery and a ¡®Space-Bender¡¯. He deduced that the latter was used to create wormholes.¡± ¡°During our research, many blackouts occured in the vicinity. This is when we learned the power output required for a the creation of a wormhole would be roughly three hundred times the annual power consumption of the US.¡± ¡°But only one of these batteries was functional. The rest- about a hundred- had been completely destroyed during the crash. We didn¡¯t have the tech to understand how to fix them, so the mission parameters were changed.¡± ¡°Instead of creating Wormholes, Dr. Steiner came up with a theory. Using the device, he could transmit short messages through space. But there was one limitation. The range.¡± ¡°We couldn¡¯t transmit messages through a large distance. Not even from here to China.¡± ¡°But he figured out a way to make it work. To put it simply- I don¡¯t understand either- He managed to make in send messages to parallel worlds. Thus, we had a device that couldn¡¯t contact aliens, but could contact parallel earths.¡± ¡°The second breakthrough was in stabilization. Using the drive, he could stabilize wormholes. If others initiated contact, we could sustain it for about half a minute with our power capacity.¡± ¡°Thus, we created an anchor. At July 19th 1959, we completed the device. After some extensive checks, the test was scheduled for November 5th, 1959.¡± ¡°The rest is history. That day, the US experienced the greatest power outage in its history. We strained all electrical lines, and even drained the entire alien battery. The experiment worked. Somebody connected to us. We didn¡¯t understand, though.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t there that day, but I heard them through the radio. What came through was hostile.¡± ¡°The Lizardmen soon wiped out our ranks. Their numbers were tiny, but we weren''t ready. They took over the facility and slowly wiped us out. Their ability to infiltrate is incredible. I can¡¯t trust anyone anymore.¡± ¡°I leave this behind in the vain hope that perhaps someone will find this and revive our organization. There is a way to beat them, if it isn¡¯t too late. It¡¯s simple. They can¡¯t make another gate. We don¡¯t know why. They¡¯re keeping Dr. Steiner for that reason.¡± ¡°Lewis Greene. January, 1960. Long Live the Illuminati.¡± Jones closed the book. ¡°That was something.¡± He said. ¡°You done checking the place for other clues?¡± He looked at Watson. Watson was in the process of stuffing diaries into his bag. ¡°I think I got most of the stuff.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get back to the others, then.¡± Jones said. Chapter 12 - Changing Tides 1 The command center was more packed than usual. It smelled like a highschool locker room- thick with the scent of sweat and testosterone. People were packed like sardines, cramped and pushed into the concrete walls. The general atmosphere was that of excitement, the murmuring of the sprinkled with words like ¡®victory¡¯ and ¡®mission¡¯. In the middle was the mahogany round table, stained with specks of coffee and tea. Dozens of journals were laid out, and highlighted upon. A binder full of copies and notes was compiled, and Lisa looked just ten percent more serious than usual. Ben twiddled with a pen, waiting anxiously for the meeting to start, while Watson re-read the notes and Jones left cigarette burns on the table. Lisa¡¯s eyes darted around. Finally, she stood up, slamming her hands against the table. ¡°You¡¯re all here?¡± She asked, taking a cursory glance of her surroundings. ¡±Salute, then.¡± The men and women stopped talking and turned to their leader. A hand raised, they roared. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡± Lisa grinned. ¡°Good to hear you¡¯re all excited.¡± Ben yawned. ¡±Let¡¯s get to it, Lisa. I really need a nap.¡± He smiled. Lisa punched him playfully. ¡°Well, since you insist¡­¡± She said. ¡°We¡¯re here to announce the most important mission in the history of the resistance.¡± Her voice echoed clearly throughout the room, earning herself a hearty cheer. ¡°Don¡¯t celebrate yet, you idiots.¡± She didn¡¯t sound disappointed. ¡°Watson and Jones here-¡± She pointed at the duo. Watson¡¯s face perked up. Jones blowed a ring. ¡°Have found vital clues in the bunker to the weakness of our enemies.¡± Yet another cheer erupted, some giving the two some well-intended, but strong pats. ¡°We have a concrete road now to save humanity.¡± Lisa smiled. ¡°And that begins today. The revolution will carve itself in the annals of history- today, we make out mark.¡± ¡°The first goal is clear. We need to capture the ¡®Gate¡¯.¡± She said, suddenly turning serious. ¡°What happens after is still a bit up in the air, but we know this is the critical part of the enemy¡¯s operation.¡± Lisa pointed at a red-dotted map. ¡°This here,¡± she pointed at a specific pin. ¡°Is Area-51. This facility contains the dimensional travel system known as the ¡®Gate¡¯.¡± ¡°This ¡®Gate¡¯ is how the Lizardmen came to our world.¡± A round of jeers passed. ¡°And for reasons yet unclear, they are very dependant on the ¡®Gate¡¯. For reinforcements, we presume. They do have a severe lack of females.¡± ¡°Thus, capturing, or at least, deactivating the ¡®Gate¡¯ will hamper their operations.¡± The crowd roared once more, their fists raised and pumping. They clamored for action. ¡°We have a couple very old diagrams of the facility, and have come up with a plan.¡± Lisa paused. ¡°Failure is unacceptable. Delay, too, is unacceptable. We must act quickly, before it is too late. We don¡¯t know for how long they¡¯ll keep being dependant on the ¡®Gate¡¯.¡± ¡°Any questions so far?¡± Lisa looked around. ¡°I guess not.¡± She motioned towards the three, Jones, Watson, and Ben. ¡°These three,¡± She held their shoulders. ¡°Will brief you on the plan.¡± Jones grunted while Watson nervously prepared a whiteboard. Ben nabbed a stack of papers. ¡°You guys ready to listen?¡± Ben asked, tapping the board. ¡°Yes? Good.¡± ¡°The plan will be carried out in two days from now. Twelve PM, on the dot.¡± Ben¡¯s voice was clear and lacked hesitation. ¡±The plan consists of three separate phases. One, distraction, Two, incapacitation, and Three, infiltration.¡± He paused. ¡°In reality, they will all occur around the same time. Jones, you go.¡± Jones picked up a stick with a good sound. Swinging it, he pointed at the diagram of the base. ¡°Alright, kids, listen up, because I ain¡¯t explaining¡¯ twice.¡± He said. ¡°Looking at the base, what do you see?¡± A couple suggestions were thrown out, like ¡®walls¡¯ or ¡®windows¡¯. ¡°Alright, you¡¯re all right- except the idiot who said ¡®your mom¡¯. Go sit in the corner.¡± He pointed at the edges. ¡°The important bits are the heavy-ass fortifications. See these here? Mounted guns.¡± ¡°So we can¡¯t win in a direct confrontation. Mid Range combat is also completely out. We¡¯d get stomped.¡± He swished his stick around. ¡°We don¡¯t play their game, then. Let¡¯s level out the playing field.¡± Jones pointed at another diagram, this one showing a modified car. ¡±This is a really simple thing to build. What it¡¯ll do is kick up a hell of a cloud in a desert.¡± Jones looked at the audience. ¡°Phase one is distraction. We can¡¯t capture this stronghold directly, so we need to do it all sneaky-beaky like.¡± ¡°We distract the enemy first by drawing their fire, and luring their soldiers out.¡± Jones pointed with a finger. ¡°One group, two thirds of our fighting force, will distract them by using flares, sniper fire, and smokes.¡± Jones then pointed at another diagram of the base. ¡°Now, here¡¯s the part where it gets interesting.¡± He said. ¡°Phase two, Incapacitation. We need to tie the enemy down.¡± ¡°We found two spots where visibility will be absolute dogshit.¡± Jones pointed at two shaded areas. ¡°Unless they overhauled the entire thing, these two spots are going to be blind spots. The other unit will follow a specific route and approach the fortress.¡± ¡°Once close enough,¡± Jones pulled out an intricate steel grenade. ¡°We fill the vents with these. While me and Watson found a couple shitty journals, Ben found a box of these smokes. We have them in mace, sleeping, and poison powder flavors. Lizards may be tough as shit, but we know these can fuck em¡¯ up.¡± ¡°Then comes phase three.¡± Jones grinned. ¡±Infiltration. Watson, you take this one.¡± He passed him his stick. Watson strutted forward, gulping, but not shaking. ¡°Uh¡­ The last phase is infiltration.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°A handful of us will infiltrate the base using these openings. Our objective is to capture their security center, which will allow us,¡± He pulled out a set of pictures. ¡±As this diagram illustrates, to control the emergency protocols, cameras, and doors.¡± ¡°Um¡­ From this specifications sheet, we know this means we can flood entire rooms with liquid nitrogen, set bulletproof barricades, and engage emergency protocols.¡± The crowd swooned with oohs and ahhs. ¡°Under the havoc, we¡¯ll crawl in, and take control. With that, the rest should go smoothly.¡± Lisa stood back up. ¡°Any questions?¡± A hand shot up. ¡°What about civilians and other humans?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t think there will be many human soldiers or civilians inside.¡± Ben said. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a secret if they just let anyone in... Besides, this is how they enter our world. Secrecy is key.¡± ¡°Who will be part of the infiltration group?¡± Another said. The room went silent. ¡°It¡¯ll be me, Watson, Ben, and about five more.¡± Jones said, breaking the silence. Watson looked ready to complain. ¡°No, you¡¯re coming with. Any volunteers can tell Lisa. She¡¯ll sort you out.¡± The room went silent again, but no questions emerged. Lisa walked to the center and crossed her arms. ¡±Is that all?¡± She asked. ¡°Dismissed, then. Before you go, Ben will have assignments for you. We¡¯re busy until the big day.¡± The crowd applauded and dispersed.
It was a very cold night. With each breath drawn, the body shivered as the freezing air streamed in. Every exhale created a small mist, and people¡¯s snots were frozen. Dozens of cars were parked just beyond visual contact of Area-51. Indeed, they had been busy. The cars had some new upgrades, bulletproof shielding, rakes, turbines, and even a couple megaphones. Scouts were perched far away, their scopes focused on the heads of the sentries. They didn¡¯t even bother disguising themselves out here. Area-51 was manned and staffed by scalies mostly, only a few old men in white robes being shuffled around here and there. The building was as old as crusty as the manuals, much to the resistance¡¯s delight. Some sections were patched up, but the structure was mostly the same, a minimalist concrete bunker.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Silently, everyone got into position. Lisa stood back, behind the main lines. She stood with an arm raised and her eyes locked on her wrist. The seconds ticked by, the fighters standing by in nervous anticipation. Watson and Jones were sitting in their Leyland as usual. This time, Jones got the wheel. He hummed a song while Watson checked their equipment for the hundredth time. Other cars were nearby, all gutted to the core. Mobility was key for the vehicles, as they needed to close the gap to the fortress as quickly as possible. Jones certainly didn¡¯t mind having no doors. A minute passed, nothing of note happening. But then, suddenly, a loud droning surrounded the fortress, mostly ignored by the soldiers as mere desert winds. Soon, however, the area was covered in a layer of sand, and alarm was raised. Then the gunshots rang. Clink, clink, clink¡­ From the distance, muffled by the air, bullets rushed through the cold air, finding a warm home in their enemies¡¯ heads. Crummy old Mosins may not affect the lizards too badly, but these were factory new .50cal rifles - built for the purpose of stopping tanks. But they hadn¡¯t seen anything yet. As the lizards prepared for retaliation, Lisa fired the tightly-gripped flare, the red light soaring into the sky like a reverse shooting star. First came the modified cars, bringing with them sounds, more dust, and havoc. They weren¡¯t a real danger. One or two had mounted LMG¡¯s, but their intent was to distract. And that it did. Soon after, a battalion of troopers and a set of tanks rolled out, wheezing an angry note. Jones and Watson prepared themselves, pulling up a pair of goggles and gas masks. Jones stepped on the gas, letting the pretty little engine roar with a battlecry. Behind him, other cars followed suit. Jones weaved and waved, taking a roundabout, but unpredictable route to the fortress. The distance was about half a mile, and the gap closed quickly. A couple of grunts fired blindly into the group. Jones heard shots and shouts, but only registered one loss on their part. He didn¡¯t care about any of that right now- he needed to focus. Through the thin layer of desert sands, he couldn¡¯t make out much. The other cars followed in a pattern similar to his. The lizards began organizing themselves better. Fire was returned to the distraction duty soldiers. Their fighting force was sizable, but not very well equipped. Sitting behind sandbags, the battle started to turn into a firefight for them. Jones arrived by the fortress walls around that time. He almost crashed into it, but managed to veer into the side just in time. Most of his caravan made through, save for one car. The second group moved quickly, spreading around the perimeter with their bags full of canisters and grenades. Jones gathered his minions, as he affectionately called them, and rushed for one of the planned entrances. The battle for Area-51 had just begun.
The plan was going smoothly. Jones¡¯s team managed to avoid being seen until halfway in. The gases streaming through the ducts made the soldiers- and sadly, the scientists- easy pickings, although they stuck with stealth for the most part. Trouble came halfway in, when they realized the smoke didn¡¯t reach that far. They had their own, but it was in limited quantities. They needed other tools too, after all. Another issue arose when they realized some of the interior had been remodelled. They didn¡¯t recognize some of the hallways and vents. Thus, they did the only thing they could- they split up. Jones led the first groups, including him, Watson, and two grunts, while Ben led the second one. Jones checked his belt. They hadn¡¯t been geared with much. Jones had a set of flashbangs, a sleeping gas grenade, and his pistol. He upgraded for this mission, now sporting a flashy Desert Eagle. Watson carried his Grandpa¡¯s ol¡¯ precious, and the two grunts he¡¯d picked wielded shotguns. Additionally, they all wore bulletproof jackets. Trouble found them eventually. A pair of rushing soldiers, presumably headed for the firefight outside, finally noticed the group. It was, however, a little two late. The two Skinks reeled back in surprise, and got kicked back from the Shotguns¡¯ impact. It wasn¡¯t exactly subtle. ¡°Shit.¡± Jones said. ¡±Now the fuckers know where we are. Watson, how much more?¡± Watson fumbled with his copy of the map. ¡°It¡¯s- We¡¯re a bit over halfway in.¡± He said. ¡°Fuck.¡± Jones kicked the wall. ¡°We¡¯re screwed if they activate that shit on us.¡± ¡°What should we do?¡± One of the grunts spoke up. Jones turned to them. ¡°We gotta keep moving. The whole plan rests on us.¡± He said. ¡°If we fail, then the whole plan fails.¡± ¡°But what do we do now? We¡¯re a button away from getting locked up.¡± Watson looked worried. Jones pondered for a moment. ¡°I have an idea. Come, come, follow me.¡± He said, running off towards the corridor. ¡°We¡¯re going to split into two. There¡¯s a closet over there, I think. We climb into the ceiling vents and split off.¡± Watson panted. ¡°Are- you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± He huffed. ¡°What else can we do? They ain¡¯t got cams up there. We can only hope they¡¯re understaffed. It¡¯s a cat and mouse game now. Let¡¯s split their attention.¡± He said. ¡°Keep your masks on, by the way. Use your grenades effectively.¡± Jones kicked a wooden door down, revealing a janitor¡¯s closet, filled to the brim with tools. Jones picked up a box of nails, scattered it on the floor behind them, and placed a ladder under the vent ducts. ¡°Watson, you¡¯re with me. Hurry.¡± Jones gestured him to follow as he crawled in. Watson heard shouts and footsteps in the background. He hopped in, dropping on all fours, and sped as fast as he could. ¡°Do you know where you¡¯re going, Jones?¡± Watson asked, taking in a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯re the map guy, Watson. I¡¯m just guessing here.¡± Jones answered. ¡°But this is the right direction, right?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell for sure.¡± Watson said. ¡°But I think so.¡± ¡°Good. Then hurry. I¡¯m sure the fuckers will be onto us soon.¡± Jones said. The vents were cramped, but spacious enough to be just comfortable enough. A warm air gushed from their backs, leading deeper into the base. Once in a while, the two had to stay low and wait as they heard the sound of soldiers below them. Getting shot at wasn¡¯t a good idea, as the metal was only a couple millimeters thick. Occasionally, they heard gunshots and shouts. Some voices they recognized. Watson curled up in fear as he heard some blood-curdling moans. Not everyone survived, it seemed. About fifteen minutes later, they¡¯d made decent progress. Jones peeked through the rafters and found the lodgings. They were almost there- only about a quarter of a base away, the control room sat. But here, their fortune saw an end. The vents grew narrow, making further progress impossible. Jones poked his head out, confirming no enemy hostiles or cameras, and slowly hopped out. After Watson managed to crawl himself out, Jones pulled out two of his mace grenades and popped them into the vents. ¡°We¡¯re on foot now, Watson.¡± Jones said. ¡°We gotta be careful from here on. Best case, we don¡¯t get seen by the camera. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s possible, though.¡± Watson nodded. ¡°You lead, Jones.¡± He said. ¡°I checked the map. We should be close, I think.¡± Jones grinned. ¡±We better be. I¡¯d love to see the Lizards panic when I show up.¡± Jones led the charge. After each bend and exit, he poked his head out, slowing their progress. Most soldiers were already deployed, and they encountered no hostiles so far. But he had no doubt that the control room would be guarded. The Lizards weren¡¯t stupid, after all. His suspicions were confirmed shortly. ¡°Pssh, Watson.¡± He said. ¡°I hear footsteps. Hide behind that bin over there.¡± Jones pointed at a set of recycling bins, just big enough each to cover one. Two Lizardmen passed by. Unlike the Skins before, these were tall, buff, and muscular. Their skin was shiny and metallic. Every step they took, the floor shook a little. It wasn¡¯t a good sign. ¡°Shit.¡± Jones whispered, watching the sentries walk by. ¡°I think they¡¯re like the one we saw at the gas station.¡± Watson frowned. ¡°You mean-¡± He shrinked. ¡°The huge one that changes shape?¡± ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯re kinda different. They don¡¯t move¡­ Robotically.¡± Jones whispered. ¡°I think these may be tough as shit and clever.¡± Watson gulped, and shuffled uncomfortably. ¡±What¡¯re we going to do?¡± ¡°We have to get past them. I think we¡¯re about three corridors away, and then we just gotta get past the door.¡± Jones said, muttering insults under his breath. ¡°How?¡± Watson¡¯s eyes were moist. Jones tugged at Watson¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t whine, Watson. We¡¯re so close.¡± Jones nibbled on his fingers. Watson watched as Jones considered the options. Finally, Jones sighed. ¡°I think there¡¯s only one option, Watson. The old fashioned way.¡± Watson looked confused, then frightened. ¡°Oh, please¡­¡± ¡°Only one way, buddy.¡± Jones tapped Watson¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You have to decoy for me.¡± Watson looked hopeless, but he took a deep breath. ¡°...Alright.¡± He said, looking dejected. ¡°Good.¡± Jones said. ¡±Run down thataway. Throw a flashbang as far away from me as you can.¡±
After Watching watson charge ahead, Jones dashed out as well. Moments later, he heard a large bang. Watson had done his job- now, it was all up to Jones. It all went smoothly. Carefully, he hid behind statues, machines, and tables, watching as security rushed by to capture Watson. Jones relaxed a bit, taking a slower route to the control room. He shouldn¡¯t have. As he turned his second-to-last corner, he failed to check properly. Stepping out, he watched in horror as a Lizardman stood, wide-eyed. Jones rolled for cover, just barely making it to behind a vending machine. But the Lizardman was faster, and Jones had taken a shot to his chest. Thankfully, the Skink wielded an SMG. It hurt like hell, but the vest held. Jones clutched his pistol tightly and blindly fired. Feeling his magazine empty, he threw a flashbang. Taking the momentary distraction as an advantage, Jones reloaded and repositioned himself, diving into a nearby room. He watched as another Lizardman came from the hallway he¡¯d just passed, and nailed a shot through its eye. The Skink threw a grenade into the room. But Jones was prepared. He had kicked a table over by the entrance. The grenade bounced off the wooden table, landing in the middle of the hallway. After the explosion cleared, Jones peeked out, and gave the Skink his dues. Watching his foe crumble, Jones stepped out, and rushed to the control center door. Reinforcements would be here soon. He looked at the complicated set of metal panels. He¡¯d have to blast it open. He searched the dead guard, and found another frag grenade. He was about to set it up when he heard a yell for help, coming from the direction Watson had run to. Jones hesitated. He should just get in that room, and then think about rescue. It was for the mission. A single life was nothing compared to the magnitude of what was going on. Besides, he didn¡¯t care about anyone. Or did he? Jones cursed. He clutched the grenade and attached it to his belt. He ran as fast as he could, charging into the hallways. Chapter 13 - Changing Tides 2 Watson gasped as his ran, his breath dry and ragged. He heard the footsteps behind, the ground shaking with each step. Underneath the gas mask, his face was sweaty, and the eyepieces grew foggy. Watson felt the tears welling up. His knees wanted to give up. He wanted to just stop, lie down, and surrender. But he kept on keeping on. One step at a time, one foot after another. People were relying on him. He wasn¡¯t used to that; the last few weeks were full of firsts. Ahead of him, the corridor sloped into a staircase. To the left was a room. He could hear the sounds of chatter ahead of him. They were headed his way and growing closer. The footsteps behind him never ceased. Watson gulped and stopped for a moment. He didn¡¯t know what to do. He¡¯d been feeling lost for a while now. But this wasn¡¯t the time to hesitate; he needed to do something. Hoping that nobody would be there, Watson quickly jolted to the door, stepping inside. The room was breakroom. It was built for a large amount of personnel, and it was empty. Tables and couches were strewn about, and machines big and small populated the corners. Making a quick decision, Watson reached for two lighter-looking tables, and knocked them in front of the door. The footsteps grew near. Kicking a couch over, Watson hid. Fumbling for his belt, he clasped his mace grenade. When the first shadows neared the open door, he flung the metal tube. Watson shrieked instinctively as the Lizards fired a couple rounds, but they all missed. They backed down as the grenade began leaking the gas, the mace causing them to cough and stumble. But this was no time to celebrate. The ventilation was turned on. Frantically looking around, Watson looked for a solution. He needed to distract them. If Jones- no, when Jones got into the command center, he could be saved. Watson found his answer on a nearby counter. On it, a bottle of Vodka. Watson reached for it. He¡¯d packed a lighter for Jones. Nearby was a stack of tissues. He didn¡¯t know how it was exactly supposed to work, but he stuffed the paper inside, lit it, and threw the grenade at the dissipating smoke.
Jones ran and ran. He encountered little resistance. Only a single guard tried to stop him, and he got a bullet to the head for the trouble. Ahead was a commotion. Somehow, he knew that was where he¡¯d find his friend. What he didn¡¯t expect was the welcome smell of arson. As he peeked the corner, he saw a myriad of figures. Two giant creatures ignored the flames and stumbled into the room. Standing nearby was a group of Skinks, waiting patiently for the fire to subside. There was a bang. Jones didn¡¯t hesitate. He grabbed the frag grenade and unpinned it with his mouth. After judging the distance, he threw the grenade. It landed on a guard¡¯s foot, who jumped in surprise. The grenade exploded into bits like a fountain; the flames scattered and vanished. He didn¡¯t have time to behold his handiwork. Jones ran, grabbing two P90¡¯s off the ground. He ducked next to the doorframe and checked inside. The room was full of gas, and he saw two giant shadows standing inside. Jones clutched the triggers on both guns, the sights aimed at the giants.
Watson shivered. He felt fear from toe to head, and he dared not peek. Moment after moment, steps closed in, and the earth shook around him. Bollocks. That¡¯s what this was. What could he do? He gripped his pistol tight and brought it up. He stilled his shaking and glanced at the craftsmanship. This was it, he supposed. Watson fumbled for the magazine release. But the magazine was empty. He¡¯d forgotten to load it beforehand. He felt his blood run cold, and he really wanted to cry. But before he could give up, before the pistol was dropped, he realized that the lever was just slightly tilted. Curiously, he checked the chamber. A single bullet was loaded. It had been for a while. His hand stilled. He felt a silent courage welling up inside him, unyielding to the situation. The sounds grew closer, overpowering the crackling of the flames. Quickly, Watson unholstered his final flashbang, and threw it over his head. Hearing the deafening roar, he rolled for another couch, and unleashed his final mace grenade. Watson didn¡¯t expect to do much. This would buy him a minute or two or best. During his roll, he got a glimpse of his enemies. Two giant Lizards, their chrome scales glimmering in the fire. But to his surprise, he heard a loud bang, followed by constant gunfire. One giant fell right beside him, dozens of little needle-like holes riddling his body. Watson nearly gasped and revealed his position. Somebody was here- somebody was helping him. Watson peeked out, only to find the Lizard aiming his sights at Jones, who was retreating into cover. Without even thinking, he raised his pistol, jumped from his cover, and let the bullet loose. A single piece of lead lodged itself into the giant¡¯s eye.
Jones heard a furious roar. He turned to find the second Lizard¡¯s claws swiping for Watson. Jones grinned. He unholstered his pistol and let the savagery loose. He made sure to make each bullet count; one in the crotch, two in the chest, and another two in the head. Were it any other pistol, it wouldn¡¯t have done much. But it was his Desert Eagle. The second Lizard slumped. It went for a final swipe, and then meekly fell to the floor. Jones dashed ahead, his lips still curled. ¡°Jesus, Watson.¡± He said. ¡°Good job.¡± Watson leaned against the wall. The gas was gone, and he¡¯d undone his mask. He drew uneven breaths. ¡°Th- thank god you¡¯re- here, Jones.¡± He slid onto the ground. ¡°B- but, the command center?¡± Jones spat on the floor. ¡°I heard you yelp like a baby,¡± he said, ¡°couldn¡¯t leave ya behind.¡± Watson looked puzzled, but eventually just sighed. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°No problem.¡± Jones said. He reached a hand out, helping Watson up. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ve gotta get going.¡± ¡°Just give me a second.¡± Watson took deep breaths. ¡±I- I think I¡¯m ready. Let¡¯s go before it¡¯s too late.¡± Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Replacing it was the cacophony of sirens and flashing red lights. ¡°I think we may be a little late.¡± Jones said. ¡°Oh no¡­¡± Watson moaned. ¡°What do we do?¡± Jones stepped around. He bent over and reached for the dead body. ¡±We fight, obviously.¡± He grabbed the oversized rifle. ¡°You go get that SMG over there.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The intercoms flicked on with a sizzle. The two tensed up, preparing for the worst. But what came through was a familiar voice. ¡±This is Ben Dover, the commanding officer of the Insurgents.¡± Jones coughed. ¡±We have control of the command center. This is a warning to all defenders- that is, the Lizardmen agents. Stand down.¡± ¡°That motherfucker.¡± Jones said, pointing his middle finger. Watson weakly smiled. ¡°We won, didn¡¯t we?¡±
The following hours were hectic. Mass arrests, confiscation of weapons, all the ¡®boring crap¡¯, as Jones lovingly called it. Thankfully, that duty was taken over by the snipers and scientists, and the insurgents got a good night¡¯s sleep. When Jones stumbled out of his cot, he found Watson already sipping on a cup of tea. They¡¯d snuggled up in a campsite outside. The cots were shit, and the blankets were thin, but it was better than nothing. Jones joined Watson. He was staring forlornly at the stars. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Jones said, sitting himself down. ¡°You¡¯re lookin¡¯ down.¡± Watson smiled. ¡±Nothing.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯ve just been pondering how fast this is going.¡± ¡°You tell me.¡± Jones laughed. He reached for a pocket and pulled out a flask. ¡°I ain¡¯t been here for more than, what, five weeks? Six?¡± Watson contemplated for a moment. ¡±I didn¡¯t keep count, honestly.¡± He said. ¡°But this is all new to me, too. You don¡¯t seem nearly that overwhelmed.¡± ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t.¡± Jones said. He took a sip and stared out into the stars. Watson stared at him. ¡°You know.¡± He gulped. ¡±I¡¯m just curious sometimes.¡± ¡°¡®Bout what?¡± Jones took another sip. ¡°Why you¡­ Well, turned out that way.¡± Watson said. ¡°I mean, you tell me about your world, and¡­ It doesn¡¯t sound that bad, honestly. No giant Lizards, I mean.¡± Jones laughed. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re wonderin¡¯ about?¡± Watson looked away. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I figured I¡¯d fit right in.¡± ¡°You would.¡± Jones chuckled. ¡°Average middle class white kid. Sure would fit right in¡±. ¡°I see.¡± ¡°But I didn¡¯t.¡± Jones said. ¡°What more can I tell you?¡± Watson shifted around uncomfortably. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you know.¡± Jones smiled. ¡°We ain¡¯t got huge lizards, but it¡¯s still the same. The big, powerful, popular kids on the playground... And us, the rest.¡± ¡°Guess it¡¯s childish of me, but I ain¡¯t gonna stick for a system like that.¡± Jones put down his flask. ¡±That¡¯s what I always thought.¡± The two sat in silence for a while. As Watson¡¯s tea grew cold and untouched, Lisa stepped in. ¡°Good evening, gents.¡± She said. ¡°Or morning? It¡¯s sunrise soon. What¡¯re you two up to?¡± Jones turned to look at her. ¡°Just tellin¡¯ Watson here some more Earth stories.¡± He tapped Watson¡¯s shoulder. ¡±Well, my Earth.¡± ¡°That¡¯s perfect, then.¡± Lisa¡¯s lips curled into a smile. ¡°I was here because of that, actually.¡± ¡°About¡­ What?¡± Watson asked. ¡°Let me explain.¡± Another figure emerged behind her. ¡°This is Dr. Steiner.¡± Steiner bowed. He was an elderly man with germanic features. ¡°Greetings.¡± ¡°He was the leading scientist behind the development of the Gate.¡± Lisa pointed at him. ¡°And he has an explanation regarding your appearance, Jones.¡± Jones blinked. ¡±Seriously?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Steiner said. ¡°You claim to be from a parallel world?¡± ¡°Well, yeah.¡± Jones said. ¡°And you came about six weeks ago?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Steiner smiled. ¡±That¡¯s it, then.¡± He coughed. ¡°You¡¯re the result of the first successful activation of the Gate MK2.¡± ¡°Gate¡­ MK2?¡± Watson said. He spat his tea out, realizing how cold it is. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s an invention of mine.¡± Steiner smiled. ¡°We¡¯d finally tested it six weeks ago.¡± ¡°What does it do?¡± Jones stood up. Steiner cleared his throat. ¡±It¡¯s a long story, but to put it simply- unlike the last one, which is simply an anchor, this one... Serves as a magnet. It pulls objects from parallel worlds.¡± Lisa stood between the two. ¡°This is also where the problem comes in.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Jones said. ¡°We got the facility.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Steiner paused. ¡°We transferred the MK2 to Washington last week.¡±
¡°What do you mean, we have to act immediately?¡± Ben punched a nearby wall. ¡°We just captured this damn fortress!¡± ¡°Like I explained,¡± Lisa said, word-by-word, ¡°we have a huge problem.¡± Ben gnashed his teeth. ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re the one with a problem.¡± He said. ¡°Our boys are tired. We just used all our reserves, and we¡¯ve got a dozen heavily wounded.¡± Jones cleared his throat. ¡°We¡¯ve got more supplies now. Better ones, even. I checked the arsenal myself.¡± He said. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what half this shit is, but it¡¯s lookin¡¯ good.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just about that.¡± Ben said. ¡°This mission right here was rash. But what you¡¯re proposing is absolutely fucking insane.¡± Watson clasped Ben¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Calm down.¡± He said, gulping. ¡°Could you at least listen?¡± Ben shook his hand away. ¡°Don¡¯t you start too, Watson.¡± ¡°Ben, you¡¯re being irrational.¡± Lisa said. ¡°You¡¯re the one being irrational here!¡± Ben lunged forward. ¡°We just completed the most dangerous mission in the history of the resistance- and now, you want us to capture the White House?¡± ¡°Actually, we¡¯re planning to capture four different locations. Including the White House.¡± Jones said. Ben glared at him. ¡°Not better.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not as impossible as it sounds.¡± Lisa sighed. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t just go without a good reason.¡± ¡°It is impossible, is what I¡¯m telling you.¡± ¡°We told you- like five fucking times now- that we have a goddamn plan, Ben.¡± Jones slammed his fist against the table. Ben shoved him. ¡°What¡¯s your genius fucking plan? Getting us killed?¡± ¡°No.¡± Jones said. ¡°Something far better. Steiner clued us into this one.¡± ¡°Well, must be a good idea, then, huh?¡± Ben snorted. ¡°Well, why don¡¯t you enlighten me?¡± Jones paused. ¡°We get Russia involved.¡± Ben looked stupefied. ¡°...What? How?¡± ¡°Steiner has contact with a battalion of Russian vessels right outside the Canadian border.¡± He said. ¡°Years of contact, just in case something goes uncontrollably bad.¡± ¡°You¡­ You¡­¡± ¡°They can be mobilized within three hours of contact, and they¡¯ll be on American shore within twelve.¡± Jones said. ¡°We checked the base, by the way. Seems like we can stir up lots of trouble from here too. We ain¡¯t got missiles, but for some reason, there¡¯s a direct line from here to a couple nearby nuclear plants.¡± ¡°Let me get this straight.¡± Ben stabilized himself using a table. ¡°You want to- what, start a fucking war between Russia and America?¡± ¡°And use that timing to capture four strategically important targets, yes.¡± Lisa said. ¡°That¡¯s the plan we came up with.¡± Ben glanced around. ¡°You¡¯re all crazy.¡± ¡°It¡¯s what we have to do.¡± Lisa said. ¡°We have a huge problem.¡± ¡°Just what is this problem?¡± Ben said. ¡°This better be something do-or-die, because I¡¯m seriously thinking about starting a coup right about now.¡± ¡°Um, I don¡¯t think you should admit that.¡± Watson said. ¡°Steiner explained stuff to us.¡± Jones said. ¡°Basically, we¡¯ve got about a week left before shit hits the fan pretty bad.¡± ¡°Exactly what?¡± ¡°The MK2 Gate.¡± Jones said. ¡°It¡¯s going to be activation-ready again in one week from now. If they calibrate it right this time, they can use that to pull in more resources than ever.¡± ¡°Besides that¡­¡± Lisa said, interjecting. ¡°He told us a lot about their command structure. We always knew the females were the ones in charge, but we didn¡¯t get exactly how that worked.¡± ¡°The female to male ratio is insanely small. It¡¯s about one female to every ten thousand males.¡± She said. ¡°They¡¯re larger, more powerful, and live far longer than the males. It¡¯s a matriarchal oligarchy, essentially.¡± ¡°From what we gather, there are four Lizard females right now.¡± Lisa paused. ¡°We need to capture all four of them simultaneously. If one of them runs away, and we can¡¯t find them... We may reclaim America, but we could be facing a nasty surprise some time from now.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Ben asked. ¡°Basically, they could be breeding underground, and we could get fucked a hundred years down the line.¡± Jones said. ¡°So we gotta root em¡¯ all out at once. We capture the MK2, let¡¯s say- but we let one slip? It¡¯s going to stay hidden and plot revenge.¡± Ben sat himself down. ¡±You¡¯re all insane.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not impossible.¡± Lisa said. ¡°I¡¯m not happy with how it¡¯s going, either, but we have a chance.¡± Ben looked up. ¡°A chance.¡± ¡°Steiner¡¯s been plotting for years now.¡± She said. ¡°He helped us contact other rebel factions. They¡¯ve agreed to help. Honestly, this may be the best shot we¡¯ll ever have.¡± ¡°Let me ask you, then.¡± Ben stood up, and laid both hands upon her shoulders. ¡°Do you really believe, from the bottom of your heart, that this is going to work?¡± Lisa gulped, then stared him right in his eyes. ¡±Yes.¡± Ben sighed, and gave the wall a solid kick. ¡°Ah, shit.¡± He said. ¡°Fuck it. Let¡¯s do it.¡± Chapter 14 - Breaking the Conditioning 1 ¡°So here¡¯s the actual plan.¡± The four sat together as usual, preparing for their final offensive. A restrained tenseness filled the air. Still, with exception to Watson, Ben, Jones, and Lisa all wore a relaxed expression, sipping their respective beverages at a restrained pace. Watson looked as nervous as usual, his lips strained with anxiety, but his eyes were clear with direction. Instead of a wide, open room, the four sat all huddled up around a single computer terminal. They were situated in the officer¡¯s lounge in Area-51¡¯s core. It had all the things you¡¯d expect from such a room - nice, velvet chairs, lots and lots of medals, and a couple liquor cabinets paid by taxpayer money. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Watson asked, pointing at the monitor. ¡°Wow. I didn¡¯t know you could do that with a computer.¡± Jones sat in front of the screen, and gave Watson a bemused glance. ¡°Paraplegic kids could do this with an iPad,¡± Jones said, ¡°at least in my world.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, we get it, mighty-world-traveller.¡± Ben snorted. ¡±Just get to the point.¡± Jones swished the mouse around and gave it a couple clicks. ¡°Well, Steiner gave me this.¡± He said. ¡°It¡¯s a¡­ map.¡± ¡°Really now?¡± Lisa snorted. ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯m kinda confused, too. I ain¡¯t ever seen this before. But from what I can tell-¡± Jones typed a set of commands, ¡°-it¡¯s¡­ A map containing two pieces of vital information. All known location of anti-government movements and the location of the Russian battalion.¡± Ben lowered his eyebrows. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of dots. Especially on the coast.¡± Jones laughed. ¡°Good for us.¡± ¡°I¡¯m still not fully on-board with this.¡± Ben said, leaning back. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t think you guys have given this enough thought. Do you even know who¡¯s going to be doing the fighting if a war breaks out?¡± Lisa turned to Ben. ¡°We know, Ben.¡± She said. ¡°It¡¯ll be the brainwashed military. But we won¡¯t let it come to that.¡± ¡°Oh really?¡± Ben said. ¡°We have an awful habit of shooting at each other, if you don¡¯t know.¡± Jones flipped through a couple screens. ¡°Just gotta make sure we don¡¯t let that happen, then.¡± Ben let out a surprised laugh. ¡°And suddenly you¡¯re the Good Guy? You think I believe that?¡± ¡°Believe what you will. I don¡¯t really care.¡± Jones said. ¡°But it ain¡¯t me you have to trust. Steiner¡¯s give this plan a lot of thought, and he¡¯s had plenty of time. Lisa obviously approves.¡± ¡°Funny hearing you giving a shit, is all.¡± Ben said. ¡°You¡¯re pretty prone to getting people screwed.¡± Jones chuckled. ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong. It would make shit easier if it really came down to an all-out war.¡± ¡°But?¡± Jones smugly grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll give your methods a spin, is all.¡± He glanced back towards Watson for a moment. ¡°Change of mind, maybe.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that a Christmas miracle.¡± Ben shook his head. ¡°Whatever. So what¡¯s your genius goodie-two-shoes plan?¡± Jones pointed at the screen. ¡°As you can see- this is the battalion. Roughly five hundred kilometers off the closest American port. Two ports, actually. There¡¯s also a small detachment unit close to the west coast.¡° ¡°The main Battalion is between Quebec and Maine. They¡¯re pretty good ships, from what Steiner¡¯s said. It¡¯ll raise an eyebrow for sure.¡± ¡°So what, we call em¡¯ in, and have them bomb the cities?¡± Ben asked. ¡°We don¡¯t have to do that, is the point.¡± Jones said. ¡°With radar equipment and drones, a battalion of slow-as-shit warships will be detected as in a second. They¡¯ll be ready hours before they see land.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°Appropriate military response is fortify the fuck out and brace for impact.¡± Jones grinned. ¡±We use that to our advantage. The enemy prolly won¡¯t expect us to strike so soon. While the military¡¯s distracted, we show up, and steal the show. We just need to win before the fight breaks out. When we capture the White House, we just issue the ports to surrender.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s¡­ What, that simple?¡± ¡°Of course it won¡¯t be that easy.¡± Lisa sighed. ¡±That¡¯s obvious. While the military¡¯s distracted, we don¡¯t believe for a moment that there won¡¯t be resistance- knowing our enemy, Lizards.¡± Ben scratched his head. ¡°Why¡¯re you two so insistent with this, then?¡± ¡°Because,¡± Lisa said, ¡°this is as good as it gets. Sure, I¡¯d prefer to have airstrikes and armies to command, but we don¡¯t have that time.¡± Ben slowly breathed in- and out. ¡°Let¡¯s assume this crazy plan actually works, then.¡± He said. ¡°What are you going to do about the other problem? The Lizardmen, what, matriarchs?¡± Jones tapped at a bundle of red dots. ¡°That¡¯s where these come in.¡± He enhanced the image and opened up a page full of details. ¡°These are insurgents, like you and me. We¡¯ve got communications open.¡± ¡°As you can see, at least one group per state. Steiner says we can get most of em¡¯ onboard with our plan. They¡¯ll strike the other three matriarchs-¡± Jones moved the cursor again, ¡°in Texas, Washington State, and Commiefornia.¡± ¡°When exactly do you propose will this all go down?¡± Ben asked. ¡°Including prep,¡± Jones paused, ¡°within three days.¡± ¡°Three days?¡± Ben spat his drink. ¡°Three? Including the trip there, that¡¯s what- five days?¡± Lisa shook her head. ¡°Three, including the trip there, actually. The boys are packing up.¡± Ben rubbed his palm against his face. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding.¡± Watson rubbed Ben¡¯s back. ¡°I was talking to the guys downstairs. They seemed to be ready.¡± Ben turned around. ¡°You too, Watson?¡± He asked. ¡°I was hoping we¡¯d at least have one sane person here.¡± Watson nervously chuckled. ¡°Well, they wouldn¡¯t listen anyways.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a good thing.¡± Ben said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this is happening. When the hell did you become the official strategist anyways, Jones?¡± Jones shrugged. ¡°Tell me if you¡¯ve got a better plan.¡± After a moment of contemplation, Ben slammed his fist against the table. ¡±God damn it.¡±
The cars were fitted with the newest tech in a hurry, and it showed. Watson¡¯s cranky Leyland was still stripped to the bare, the holes and blanks patched with cheap sheet metal. It had more gaps than a teabag still. Jones would¡¯ve been all-too-happy to scrap the car and grab a new one, but with the scale of the mission, all vehicles were as valuable as it got. Weapons were plentiful in the old base. Hundreds of firearms of all sizes and calibers, some even prototypical, futuristic weapons amongst the bunch. The worthiest finds were the xenotech armaments. There weren¡¯t plenty, but there were a couple needles in the haystack. They¡¯d encountered the black boom-tube before, but the plasma-tungsten rifle was a welcome addition. Everything was loaded up. Anything that could provide advantage. That included anything from anti-material grade sniper rifles to a can of reptile repellent. When the storage was cleaned bare, and everything deemed worthwhile was taken, they set the explosive charges. They couldn¡¯t risk leaving the gate unprotected. As potentially awesome as it was, it was also a potential titanic-sized hole in their plot. Steiner shed a tear as they watched the entire base crumble.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The vehicles set out at midday, just eleven hours since their last battle. The caravan was split into five groups of four to lower suspicion. Each set moved out at a twenty-minute interval, and all were set to take slightly different routes. The sunshine was pale. No clouds swam in the infinite blue skies. The day was immaculate. ¡°Guess we¡¯re kissin¡¯ this desert goodbye, then.¡± Jones said, looking out of the windows. ¡°I guess so.¡± Watson said, his eyes fixated on the roads. ¡°Do you think your toilet¡¯s still out there?¡± Jones laughed. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been wanting to piss for a while.¡± He said. ¡°Wanna go search for your Cadillac out there?¡± Watson shuddered. ¡±Oh lord.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯d really rather not. Besides, I¡¯ve grown fond of this car.¡± ¡°What, this heap of junk?¡± Jones kicked the glovebox and watched the latch fall off. ¡°Guess it¡¯s at least better than that thing.¡± ¡°It was a premium car, Jones,¡± Watson sniffled, ¡°I hadn¡¯t even paid off my loans for it.¡± ¡°Well, this goes well, you won¡¯t have to bother with that anymore.¡± Jones smirked. ¡±Not that you¡¯d have to if we failed, either.¡± Watson rubbed his neck. ¡±Don¡¯t bring that up, please.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be fine, Watson.¡± Jones pulled on his ear. ¡°We came this far, haven¡¯t we?¡± Jones¡¯s hand was slapped away. ¡°I think you just jinxed it. That¡¯s a bad flag.¡± ¡°Please, what do you think this is, a shitty webnovel?¡± Jones said. ¡°Believe in the mojo, or whatever the hippies call it. That¡¯s how gamblers win.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t they all go bankrupt?¡± Watson said. ¡°Those aren¡¯t proper gamblers.¡± Watson sighed. ¡°I get it. Well, it isn¡¯t as scary as it used to be, I guess.¡± ¡°I guess the extra pants I packed were unnecessary, huh?¡± Jones was met with an embarrassed glare. ¡°Ha-ha.¡± Then the car fell silent. For a while, the two travelled so, comfortable in their mutual silence. With passing hour, the scenery changed, from forests to mountains, from mountains to lakes, from lakes to deserts. The vastness of their country could be felt with each shift. They only stopped for petrol and snacks, switching drivers every once in a while. ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll have times like this after all this?¡± Watson asked. Sitting in the passenger¡¯s seat, he glimpsed out into the sunset. ¡°Who knows?¡± Jones said. ¡°Don¡¯t put the car before the engine. Focus on this first.¡± ¡°But don¡¯t you ever think about what you want to do afterwards?¡± Watson watched as the trees zoomed by. ¡°I used to do that often. I¡¯m not so sure anymore.¡± ¡°What¡¯s there to think about? Just go back home and play sudoku or something.¡± Watson smiled. ¡°I was thinking about that, actually. But I¡¯m just not sure.¡± Jones glanced at Watson. ¡°What¡¯re you thinkin¡¯ about, then?¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± Watson paused, his smile slowly flattening. ¡°I used to help out in soup kitchens and all. I thought I was helping the community, but after all this¡­ It just seems like maybe I could do more.¡± Jones chuckled. ¡°I just never thought I could be useful in something like this.¡± Watson admitted. He straightened his back and turned to the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°You have anything planned, Jones?¡± ¡°There¡¯s this mission I¡¯m looking forward to. You might¡¯ve heard of it.¡± Jones said. ¡°Nah. Well, maybe¡­ But it ain¡¯t anything definite. Just thinkin¡¯ about that gate, is all.¡± Watson shifted around in his seat. ¡°You tryin¡¯ to say something?¡± ¡°...It¡¯s obvious, huh?¡± Watson sighed. ¡±Are you trying to¡­ go back?¡± ¡°Being blunt? Good to see that for a change.¡± Jones smiled. ¡±I don¡¯t know.¡± The sun set behind the mountains as a quiet car drove down a lonely path.
The diner was a quiet, dingy place, built at the edge of the sleeping suburbs. It was a quiet evening, and most people were too busy watching football or drama reruns. The place was staffed by a single obese woman, who was too distracted by sparkling vampires on tv to care about the cast of shady individuals ordering fries and shakes. Slowly but sure, the cars piled up on the parking lot. Many opted to park elsewhere, some even left behind dozens of meters away, as to not attract attention. Not that that was necessary, though. The streets were as quiet as it gets, and people didn¡¯t care that much. This was it- Washington D. C. Thirty kilometers left to go. The gang- the three musketeers plus Watson- sat in the corner, plotting and munching away. ¡°So here¡¯s the thing.¡± Lisa said. ¡°There is one small complication to this entire plan.¡± ¡°Good thing there¡¯s only one, huh?¡± Ben said, looking as if nothing could be any more ridiculous. ¡°Just what new impossible complication are we facing?¡± Lisa delivered swift punishment with a punt. ¡°Cut it out, Ben. We¡¯ve come this far.¡± She said. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s¡­ Manageable.¡± ¡°So what¡¯s... This problem?¡± Watson asked, inching closer. Lisa pointed at a layout of the White House, and circled the staircase. ¡°This place.¡± She frowned. ¡°The basement?¡± Jones raised his brow. ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°Well, the thing is¡­¡± Lisa paused, ¡°Steiner said the facility is located in the White House.¡± ¡°Meaning?¡± Ben asked. ¡°Meaning,¡± Lisa emphasized each syllable, ¡°that there¡¯s probably some kind of base down there.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Watson blinked. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake¡­¡± Ben slammed the table. The hostess didn¡¯t care. ¡°Really?¡± Jones kept reaching for fries and condiments. ¡±Well, that¡¯s kinda gay.¡± He said. ¡±But it ain¡¯t nothing we can¡¯t manage, right?¡± ¡°The thing is,¡± Lisa said, ¡°Steiner seemed rather sure this was also used to produce¡­ Alien machinery. He was talking about flying saucers and zappers, whatever that means.¡± Jones merely chuckled. ¡°This is getting more and more stupid by the minute.¡± Ben said, leaning onto the table. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re going through with this.¡± ¡°Well, deal with it.¡± Jones patted him on the back. ¡°Stop being so mopey.¡± Lisa coughed, vying to get their attention. ¡°If you¡¯d all focus¡­¡± she said, ¡°we should still talk about our strategy, just to be sure.¡± ¡°I think that would be best.¡± Watson gulped, and pulled out a notepad. ¡°I¡¯ll write stuff down.¡± Jones sipped his shake. ¡°You got any ideas?¡± ¡°Well, I think splitting the group into four is the best.¡± She said. ¡°We need to make the roles within each groups clear. We need someone good with tech, one good with explosives, and a good leader on each team.¡± ¡°Sounds reasonable.¡± Jones watched Watson scribble notes down. Ben raised his voice. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna go for that, designate a small unit for scouting.¡± He said. ¡°Knowing what¡¯s ahead is vital. We¡¯ve got those nifty remote-cams, right? Those would be very useful.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Lisa said. ¡°But who¡¯d lead them?¡± A long pause ensued. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± Ben said, his eyes brimming with annoyance. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t like this plan at all. But I honestly think I¡¯m the best at this, so I may as well give it my all.¡± ¡°Wise words.¡± Jones gave one clap. ¡°Good to see you do more than bitch.¡± That earned him a glare. ¡°Please. I¡¯ve barely started.¡± Ben said. ¡±You better write ¡®I Told You So¡¯ on my grave when I inevitably become Swiss Cheese.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t say that.¡± Watson looked up from his notes and nervously laughed. ¡°Um, I don¡¯t know how effective this would be, but I thought it could be a good idea to barricade the doors and leave a camera behind us. Maybe even a small group, although I¡¯m uncomfortable leaving people behind. You know, so we know when reinforcements get in.¡± ¡°Sounds good.¡± Lisa nodded. ¡°Anything else we¡¯re missing? Basic training should cover the rest.¡± They all glanced amongst each other. ¡°That¡¯s that, then.¡± Lisa sighed. ¡±I¡¯ll assign the teams before we get there. Rest up while you still can. The Battalion¡¯s arriving in fifteen minutes. Distraction should be a go in three hours.¡± The dinner was completed in utter silence. Watson could understand every single cheesy line spoken from the television and tried his best to still his stomach for the upcoming battle.
The cars rolled towards the White House, split into two seperate groups. From the distance, they¡¯d already discovered that the place was fortified. It wouldn¡¯t be an easy walk-and win. But they had ideas. Good ones, at that. Two little surprises had they prepared- gas grenades and explosives. It was a tried-and-tested combo for a good reason. Following traditions, the battle started with a bang and chaos. Smoke filled the vicinity, but it didn¡¯t seem to impact the Lizards much. Those centered here were dressed for combat, and their masks and goggles gave a very futuristic look. They clearly served a purpose. Yet, they were surprised. They clearly didn¡¯t anticipate an attack; the fortifications and soldier presence was too light for that. But no matter. This much, they¡¯d expected. A volley of flashbangs were thrown, followed by a series of explosives hurled against the giant fence surrounding the White House. The battle could be halted here on its tracks if everything went wrong. Nothing could go wrong. First, the Humvees rolled in. Crashing through cracked and shattered bricks and mortar, the Humvees led the charge onto the property, their engines roaring in clear defiance. Bullets lit the dark, starless sky, the streaks of bright, flashing lights crashing against the sturdy metal. One of the following cars was hit badly. The engine flared, smoked, and crashed. The driver, determined for the mission to succeed, veered the failing vehicle away from the safety of the smoke and flashbangs, opting to kamikaze into a pack of guards instead. Watson was horrified at the sounds it made, but he couldn¡¯t take his eyes off the road. Jones clicked and cycled his gun like crazy, spraying bullet after bullet like a hose. Without much more incident, they managed to reach the White House itself. The Humvees crashed through the doors, the splinters sent flying towards the bewildered guards. Without any worry, they drove as far as they could. The smaller cars drifted into a protective barrier around the Humvees, which were placed right in front of the large central staircase. Everyone rushed out of the cars and lifted the trunks with lightning speed. They grabbed the satchels full of ammunition and explosives. They¡¯d packed absolutely everything. Thermite, C4, Dynamite, Nitroglycerin, Gunpowder¡­ They had enough to bring the entire building down thrice over. Four groups of twenty made for a mad dash to the basement while another fifteen stayed behind, opting to fortify the staircase behind them. Underground, they encountered a large, password-coded steel door. They didn¡¯t have any time to unlock it the conventional way. The first one to arrive gave a crude shout and rolled a frag grenade. The door was blown off its hinges, revealing a wide underground passage below. Lisa was the last to enter. She looked behind and saluted the defenders with a sullen bow. History would be made, one way or the other. Chapter 15 - Breaking the Conditioning 2 Dreary wide hallways seemed to be a staple amongst the baddies. The underground bunker was certainly not in need of more of them. Little droplets of water splashed on the floor from the stalagmites, and the stale scent of metal and gasoline lingered in the air. Ben¡¯s group went ahead. He¡¯d split his group of twenty into two to cover more ground. They¡¯d been given walkie-talkies and enough explosive charges to bust through doors quickly. Lisa¡¯s group trailed behind, and Jones led the charge. Ahead was the first intersection. It had been agreed upon that Jones and Watson would lead their groups to the left while Lisa led hers to the right. They signalled each other goodbye and jogged down the hallway. Time was of the essence, but they had to be cautious. Ben¡¯s scouting party didn¡¯t bother with inspecting the rooms. They just kicked the door in to check for enemies and promptly left. Jones and Watson, on the other hand, had taken a small look into the various nooks and crannies, finding crates upon crates of high-tech metallic junk. It wasn¡¯t until they¡¯d reached their third hallway when issues arose. Jones had peeked a corner. There was no sign of the scouting party. Instead, four Lizardmen were slowly approaching him, their guns raised. He¡¯d barely pulled his face back before bullets greeted the now pimply corner. ¡°Shit!¡± Jones said, gasping for air. ¡°What in the fuck? The scouts aren¡¯t there.¡± ¡°I think we noticed.¡± Watson gulped. ¡±Did you see any bodies?¡± ¡°No.¡± Jones shook his head. The insurgents became visibly more tense. Quickly, they shuffled into a formation for engagement. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this.¡± Jones grunted. ¡±We need to face them head-on.¡± Watson scanned the area. ¡°But we can¡¯t just¡­ Bust out, Jones.¡± He said. ¡°Well, watch me.¡± Jones said. He reached for his belt, where a trusty flashbang lie. ¡°You two.¡± He pointed at a pair of determined young¡¯uns amongst the crowd. ¡°You boys handy with your guns?¡± He received a duet of nods. ¡°You¡¯ll follow up. The rest of you, back us up if we need to.¡± The flashbang was thrown. Timed perfectly, Jones poked his head out, the two others dashing ahead with their guns raised. Jones was very happy with his choice of weapon- a xenotech antimatter rifle. Not anti-material, antimatter. A well-placed crotchshot blasted a Lizard into pieces. The young¡¯uns weren¡¯t as successful. They weren¡¯t well coordinated. They both marked a single target, leaving the other alone to do as it pleased. By the time Jones could cycle his bolt, and the boys realized their mistake, one had taken a bullet to the stomach. Confirming their targets were dead, the insurgents crowded over the boy. Thanks to kevlar, he wasn¡¯t too badly wounded. But he certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to battle. They had no choice. Minutes later, they stuffed the boy into the widest locker they could find, leaving him there for retrieval when the mission was over. ¡°Where the hell do you suppose the scouts are?¡± Jones asked. He was fuming. ¡°They haven¡¯t said a squeak since the split.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you try contacting them?¡± Watson pulled out the walkie-talkie. ¡°Here. Press this button.¡± Jones clenched the black metal box. ¡°Hey, assholes! Fucking warn us next time properly. We ran into a group of guards and one of our guys got shot.¡± Watson hastily snatched it away. ¡°Um, he means we¡¯d really like some more warning.¡± There was no reply. The two stared at the device, expecting it to do¡­ Something. Finally, Jones took the machine back. ¡°...You guys there?¡± He said with a hint of worry. ¡°Um, yes. We¡¯re here.¡± A voice responded. Jones didn¡¯t recognize it, but it sounded human. ¡°Where were you guys?¡± Jones sighed. ¡°I thought you assholes were dead.¡± ¡°We¡¯re- uh, I mean, I am alive.¡± The talkie buzzed. ¡°We were- ambushed by the¡­ Enemy. I¡¯m the only one alive. Requesting backup.¡± Ahead, the survivor stood. He looked¡­ Very clean. Surrounding him was a bloodbath. Both enemy and human corpses were scattered about, dozens of empty brass casings rolling around. Watson turned away and gagged. Even Jones turned his nose up. He¡¯d seen this so many times on Liveleak, but seeing it for real was a different beast alltogether. The survivor seemed unfazed. Almost¡­ Serene. Jones and his party stopped in their tracks. ¡°What in the hell happened here?¡± Jones yelled. They were a good fifteen meters away from the survivor. ¡°We had a battle.¡± The survivor said. He was very calm; almost suspicious so. ¡°I was the only one who survived.¡± The crowd behind Jones and Watson murmured. ¡°Mitch?¡± A voice called. An older man from the party seemed to recognize him. ¡°Is that you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Mitch said. ¡°Can you help me?¡± The old man moved towards the front of the crowd. Before he could go, Jones stopped him. ¡°Stop. There¡¯s something fishy about this.¡± The older man brushed his arm away. ¡°The hell¡¯s wrong with you, man?¡± He scowled. ¡±It¡¯s Mitch. He¡¯s clearly in shock.¡± He jogged towards Mitch. ¡°I¡¯m telling you-¡± Jones stretched his hand, but it didn¡¯t reach. The old man walked up to Mitch, hugging him. ¡°Man, you okay?¡± He asked. ¡°What in the world happened to you?¡± Jones eyed the two with curiosity. ¡°Um, what¡¯s wrong, Jones?¡± Watson whispered. ¡°Back me up, Watson.¡± Jones murmured. He suddenly raised his voice, and pointed at one of the corpses. ¡°Hey, Watson, that¡¯s Ben, right?¡± It caused unrest amongst the group. ¡°What do you-¡± Jones smacked Watson¡¯s back. ¡°Yes, uh... That¡¯s Ben alright.¡± ¡°Hey, Mitch,¡± Jones said, meeting Mitch¡¯s dead eyes, ¡°pass me Ben¡¯s walkie, will ya? I think it was in the right pocket, right?¡± ¡°Yes, it was.¡± Mitch confirmed, and reached for the Jacket.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. As he bent over, Jones pulled out his trusty Deagle. With hesitation, he cycled the firearm twice. Horror rose amongst the party at the realization of what had happened. Everyone seemed just about ready to lynch Jones, the old man already having his rifle raised. But suddenly, Mitch¡¯s body let out an ear-piercing howl. It wiggled in ways a human body couldn¡¯t endure. The limbs malformed and contorted, and his skin changed color. Everyone let Jones go. For safety¡¯s sake, Jones blasted a couple more shots into the thing. Watson, and many others, took this time to vomit their guts out. Dead on the ground was the most colorful Lizard they¡¯d encountered yet. A Chameleon. ¡°...How did you know?¡± A streak of blood was smeared on the old man¡¯s face. Jones spat on the ground. ¡°It didn¡¯t make sense.¡± He said. ¡°Why would three guards just overlook this one guy? His clothes and shit looked too clean. You see the bloodbath down here?¡± ¡°But¡­ but¡­¡± The old man mumbled. ¡°Besides, Ben isn¡¯t even in this group.¡± Jones said. ¡°He¡¯s ahead of Lisa now. I also know for a fact that dumbass keeps his walkie clipped on his belt.¡± Watson recovered slowly, straightening his posture once more. ¡°That was¡­¡± he choked, ¡°the most disturbing thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± His face was pale. ¡°Yeah.¡± Jones said. ¡°Me, too, honestly.¡± He reached for a secret pocket, pulling out a metal flask. ¡°...What do we do now?¡± Watson asked. ¡°This¡­ We don¡¯t have a scouting party anymore.¡± ¡°We have to keep going, obviously.¡± Jones took a swig. ¡°But now, we need to be extra careful. You¡¯ve just seen what those fuckers can do, right?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I could ever forget.¡± Watson nodded furiously. Jones turned to his comrades. ¡°You fuckers saw that too, right?¡± He said. The crowd murmured a reluctant yes. ¡±Good. From now on, keep an eye amongst yourselves. Anything¡¯s off? Say it.¡±
Firefights with the Lizardmen were becoming more and more difficult. A lack of cover and quickly diminishing supplies meant that each successive encounter carried more and more risk. They¡¯d already lost ten soldiers- four from Watson¡¯s crew, and six from Jones¡¯s. But they kept pushing on. What was really dangerous were the Chameleons. The problem was that there was a decent amount of actually human staff. Amongst them were a couple Chameleon, blending in with the group until they were ready to backstab. Nobody could tell the real from the fakes apart, especially as they did not know anyone personally. Their exploration slowed considerably. What didn¡¯t help was when news arrived that the barricade was being overwhelmed. But they persisted. Keep on keeping on was the slogan, and they held to that. All the members were as determined as it got, not losing heart as the difficult situations they faced. Soon, they reached a wide, open space. This was a central hub of sorts. The space was shaped like a dome, nearly two hundred meters in diameter. Three tunnels connected to this node, one from the left, and another to their opposite. Hundreds of crates and containers were scattered in the room, and all sorts of machinery blinked passively. In the middle was a large structure. It was a round, plate-like thing, built from bottom to top from sheet metal. Jones smiled as he recognized the shape. A UFO. The UFO was humongous. Above it, at the top of the dome, was a spiral formation, most likely a hatch of some sorts. The UFO itself wasn¡¯t too distinct- just a simple metallic saucer shape with a round globe attached to the bottom. Jones marvelled at that globe- for attached to it was a sentry gun. The globe was see-through, and one could make out a joystick and controls inside. Something else caught their attention, however. There was a large-scale firefight. Bullets zoomed by at impressive speeds. Empty gas grenades littered the ground, and dead bodies were heaped around the edges. Watson could make out a wounded Ben and Lisa desperately fighting against a large group of Lizardmen, who had fortified the entrance opposite to them. Quickly, the two groups rushed in. Watson joined Ben and Lisa, bringing his group over for support. Jones dashed towards nearby cover, taking a completely different route. It was not a good situation. They¡¯d spent most of their explosives blasting through gates and blockades, and there weren¡¯t many more tools to spare. Who would know what lay past that barricade, anyways? How much more explosives would they need to save? Watson focused on providing cover fire for Lisa and Ben¡¯s group to attempt an advance. They had been doing at it for a while, it seemed. But for each Lizardmen that fell in battle, another replaced it. As losses mounted on the insurgent¡¯s side, they were being pushed back. Watson prayed, and kept providing cover. Jones, on the other hand, realized the situation was dire. He knew something had to be done, or the others would be done for. He saw a ventilation duct nearby- if he could sneak in there, could he perhaps reach the matriarch? But eyeing his comrades in battle, he sighed, and turned to his troops. ¡°We have to do something.¡± He said, his eyes solute. He pointed his finger at the saucer. ¡°I have an idea, but I need all of you to cover for me, alright?¡± Countless nods responded. Jones grinned, and raised his fist. ¡±Alright. You boys deal with the Lizards. Distract them for me, will ya?¡± Before anyone could ask what his idea was, Jones dashed forwards. He was only about a seventy five meters away from the UFO. The problem was that most of it was open space. He saw a hatch located on the side of the saucer, luckily faced away from the Lizardmen. A ladder hung from that hatch. He closed his eyes and focused. Drawing a deep breath, he clenched a grenade. He threw the grenade at the Lizardmen, hoping for a momentary distraction. Then, as if possessed, he shot forward, dashing madly at the saucer. Jones nearly arrived when a bullet pierced his achilles heel. The pain coursed through his body, threatening to throw him off balance. But he didn¡¯t stop. With his unhurt foot, he lunged forwards, throwing himself towards the ladder. By the margin of a finger, he grabbed the bottom peg of the ladder. He hurled himself onto the saucer, climbing desperately into the hatch. Watson was becoming more and more terrified. This wasn¡¯t a fight they could win. He¡¯d been in this situation so many times before, but this time, the fear was primal. They couldn¡¯t lose here. But suddenly, he saw the saucer jolt from its rightful place. Suddenly, the saucer beeped and blinked, causing no little amount of confusion amongst the onlookers. It was almost as if the battle paused only to see what would happen. Watson saw Jones slump into the globe attached to the bottom, and smiled. The globe turned towards the barricade. The defenders seemed to know what horrors awaited them. Quickly, they tried to aim their heaviest weapons against the thing, turning their attention away from the foot soldiers. But it was too late. A sudden whirr filled the room, and a set of blinding red lights flashed from globe to barricade. Screams of agony filled the room. The barricade was completely annihilated from the blast of the laser cannon. The reinforcements were just as easily wiped out.
¡°Why do you always cut it so close?¡± Ben asked, grumbling as his wounds were hastily patched. ¡°The hero¡¯s always late.¡± Jones laughed. ¡°Well, it ain¡¯t intentional. Ow, ow, ow.¡± His face twisted in pain as Watson pulled the bullet from his foot. ¡°Well done, Jones.¡± Lisa said. She looked tired. It seemed Jones and Watson weren¡¯t the only ones faced with trouble. Watson finished patching Jones up. ¡°You going to be fine, Jones?¡± Watson asked with worry. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can walk normally after that.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, fine.¡± Jones said. ¡°It¡¯s just a tiny lil¡¯ bullet to the foot. What little bitch would complain about a scratch like that?¡± He glanced towards Ben, who was getting treated for a hipshot. ¡°So the off button¡¯s not there.¡± Ben sighed. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be fine too.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Lisa said. ¡±We need to keep going.¡± Watson helped Jones up. The other two had already started walking by the time Watson gave Jones a makeshift crutch. Most of the insurgents had restored the barricare they¡¯d just destroyed, keeping a watch on their backs while they headed down the hallway. It was a group of twenty that headed down this final hallway. This one was especially ominous, perhaps because of its incredibly size. The ceiling here was about ten meters high, and they could see a large structure ahead. What greeted them was a set of steel doors. The frame was large, shaped like the gaping maw of a giant lizard. The air tensed around them as a thermite charge was placed on the hinges. Anticipation grew when the sparks flew from the extreme temperatures. Soon, the doors fell from their hinge, revealing a large room. Every single sci-fi cliche was fulfilled in some or the other. Oversized monitors, 3-d projections, incubator pods filled with dubious liquids. Somehow, Jones felt that anything less would¡¯ve been a disappointment. In the back of the room, displayed behind a layer of reinforced plexiglass was a swivel chair. Aside from that, a set of elite guards, numbering six. The chair turned, revealing the largest, most colorful Lizard they¡¯d ever encountered. ¡°Drazil Clinton-Bush.¡± Lisa whispered. ¡°The Matriarch.¡± Finale - Calling America For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. The doors creaked open, the mechanism whirring to pull the heavy iron doors. The warm, humid air of the command center rushed out, seeking the relief of the cool, dank, cave. The rebellion felt the rush of warmth wash over them. They stood in awe, their final objective closer than ever before. The reality of the situation hadn¡¯t set in yet; within moments, their battle could finally be concluded. The same could be said about the Lizards. They drew breath, heavily and raggedly, simply staring back at the tense invaders. Their shoulders were firm, and their sharp, elegant gaze was focused on one objective alone - kill. The Lizardman Matriarch sat with crossed legs. There was no emotion in her expression. Instead, she opted to shift around, looking more bored with each movement she made. Behind her velvet chair stood a recognizable artifact. It looked eerily similar to the gate back in Area-51. However, this one was smaller in size, and more exotic materials made themselves apparent. She was positioned behind a clear layer of plexiglass. Nobody doubted for a single minute what its properties were. This section was raised upon a platform. On the sides, two curved, wide staircases sloped downwards. The soldiers stood in front of the platform on ground level, basic cover granted by sandbags and electronic equipment. A single twitch was what set the the violence loose. Both sides were fingering for their weapons. It was when a Lizardman soldier twitched a single muscle, a simple movement of the shoulder, that all hell broke loose. Both sides drew arms instantaneously, the Lizardmen advantaged by the small gap the resistance had to work with. A rebel was shot dead before anyone could take cover. These soldiers weren¡¯t the average grunts they¡¯d faced for the most part; hell, the size of the bullet hole in the rebel¡¯s face could tell that much. Before more damage could occur, the rebels bounced, rolling and ducking for cover. It was readily apparent that waltzing through the door would be suicide. The frame was wide enough for roughly five people to fit at once, but that wasn¡¯t much space to work with. They heard a shuddering as metal frames covered the plexiglass. The amount of bullets fired by the Lizardmen definitely didn¡¯t help. They were being pre-fired, the Lizardmen elites covering for each other¡¯s reloads. It seemed they were confident in resources; a luxury the resistance didn¡¯t have. What was most concerning was time - a resource they were clearly short of. Lisa didn¡¯t like the echoes coming from their back, from the tunnels they¡¯d fought tooth and nail through. The group froze when confronted with decisions to make. A single one could undo their efforts. Ben was the one to speak up. ¡°Hey, you, back there.¡± He pointed at a shivering grunt in the back. ¡±Pass me the Bazooka. Jones, you still got your breach charge?¡± Jones held his satchel up high, his voice muffled by the fire. ¡°Yeah.¡± He grinned. ¡°We blowin¡¯ something up?¡± Ben looked around. He looked doubtful, but as a yelp sounded from the back lines, he shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s no other way. We¡¯ve gotta bust through here.¡± He said. ¡°Lisa, roll a smoke grenade. I¡¯ll aim for the bastards with this - Jones, you blow that breach charge on the door when I give you the signal.¡± Everyone stared at Ben. ¡°You guys got any better ideas?¡± They froze. ¡°This¡¯ll serve as distraction. Once the charge goes off, you all rush in there, you got it?¡± Determined, but unwilling faces nodded in unison. ¡°Alright. Position yourselves. Back off from the door.¡± Ben said. ¡±Good. Jones, put that charge there. Lisa, got the smoke ready?¡± Affirming everything was in order, he gave the signal.
The smoke covered the invaders, but the Lizardmen did not hesitate to continue firing. They memorized where the corner was. What they didn¡¯t expect was the blazing trail of a warhead, aimed at their midst. It wasn¡¯t human technology either; it was their weapon. The black blast-tube. They knew exactly what it was capable of. It was only their reaction time and superior biology that saved their lives. Except one. His face now resembled more of a pastry. At least, what remained of it. Covered by the deafening noise of the warhead was another explosion. Suddenly, their advantage lessened, as the doorframes cracked open under the intense pressure. A large hole replaced the hinges, through which the rebels rushed. The ones who recovered fast quickly scrambled for cover behind the intricate machinery. One even managed to shoot a rebel dead. The rebels split into two groups. One was led by Lisa and Ben, and the other was led by Jones, co-hosted by Watson. Five-Five was the split. They huddled behind various nooks and crannies, returning fire with their superior numbers. It seemed that now, they had the advantage. Morale surged when another Lizard¡¯s head was cleanly pierced. But alas, it wouldn¡¯t be that easy. A Lizardman pulled the pin of a grenade. It wasn¡¯t exactly US standard-issue; instead of the usual iron pineapple, what protruded were hundreds of tiny needles. What wasn¡¯t as glaringly obvious was its deadly power - a poor sap was riddled with needles and quickly fell when the wooden board he¡¯d hidden behind was easily pierced through. Another had his legs torn off. Then came another, and another. The casualties mounted in similar fashion. Thin cover couldn¡¯t stop the blasts, and most couldn¡¯t even react fast enough. It was truly lucky that the grenade was so lacking in aerodynamics. Even with the strength of the Lizardmen, the throws didn¡¯t seem reliable. They didn¡¯t even bother aiming for the rebels in the back, the fifty-meter distance seemingly the limit. But by the time the barrage ended, the scales were balanced. Six to four was the match. Quality, however, triumphed over quantity. The two-man-advantage of the rebels seemed meaningless faced against the coordination and aim of the Lizardmen. It was then that Jones turned from his corner, garnering the attention of his teammates across the room. Lisa spotted him making odd gestures, increasing in obscenity until she finally noticed him rocking his hand back-and-forth. It was then he started fingering gestures. She was about to shout about sexual harassment, but she realized what he was trying to communicate. Quickly, she huddled the support of her crew, now down to Ben and another injured teammate. They discussed something in hushed tones. Ben gave Jones a disbelieving stare, but all he could do was shake his head. Jones watched the three give him a thumbs up and gesture a ten. Jones turned to see Watson holding up a satchel, and he grinned, accepting the gift enthusiastically. Watson reached for his grenades. It was time to tip the scales. The show started with a ¡®bang¡¯. Three flashbangs, timed to explode one after each other. Then, the entire strategic goods they had were dumped. Two smokes, three frags, and Watson¡¯s flashbang. It was enough to stir confusion, and the Lizards focused fire on Lisa¡¯s crew, who threw nearly all of the grenades. This was when Jones dashed forth, weaving from cover to cover. From sandbag to machine, from machine to cabinet. Running madly, he slid from his latest destination, giving the Lizards a cheesy smile as he tossed his satchel with all his might. It didn¡¯t land exactly on its mark. But it did its job. The breach charge plopped itself amidst the confused Lizardmen, who blankly stared at their demise. Two ducked in time for cover. The others weren¡¯t nearly as lucky. Even their guns ended up as a mangled mess. The resistance didn¡¯t hesitate to push their advantage. The six dashed forward, gaining ground on their diminished foe. The Lizardmen didn¡¯t let emotions get to them. They felt no fear nor empathy for their teammates. Another rebel lost his life when he slipped during the frantic dash. The room began shaking.
The resistance kept gaining ground. The defeat of the Lizardmen seemed inevitable. Building upon the sacrifice of their lost comrades, Lisa led the resistance to the final charge. Bullets were exchanged, but most were for naught. Metal hailed against cover. Slowly but surely, the Lizardmen were being exhausted. They frequented the cover, passively waiting to be approached. What was alarming was the whirring. A minute ago, the room began shaking. It was followed by the machinery, beeping and booping as they pleased. They could audibly hear - and feel - the power surging through the cables, all ominously leading to the platform of the Matriarch. The urgency pressed them on. It was Ben who finally made the difference. A bolt clicked, a bullet spiraled, and an eye popped. The Lizardman fell backwards, slumping into peaceful slumber. The final one put up a good resistance, pulling out two guns in a Rambo-like fit, but against four guns all pining for his guts - he couldn¡¯t do much. ¡°Jones!¡± Lisa yelled, giving them no time to catch a breath. ¡°Check up on the Matriarch! Remember, this isn¡¯t over until she¡¯s dead!¡± ¡°Got it!¡± Jones said, rushing towards the staircase. He was the closest, and even with his shot foot, he clenched his teeth and strode forwards.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He found the end of the staircase blocked off, but gave it no quarter. Jones cycled his rifle magazine in a circle, creating a gap. He kicked the weak joints and let himself in. Jones was face-to-face with the Matriarch. She was the biggest living biped he¡¯d ever seen. The Lizardmen elites were easily nearly two meters in height, but she towered over him at roughly three. Her eyes were now full of malice, her unflinching gaze of boredom now gone. The room was clearly the source of the odd whirring. Sounds of machinery leaked from each and every gadget in the room, all coalescing into an annoying buzz. Every monitor in the room was lit up brightly, showing strings of numbers and letters Jones did not understand. The small, ten-by-ten room was illuminated by the excellent blue streaming from the gate. It had been activated. ¡°Greetings, m¡¯lady.¡± Jones sarcastically tipped an invisible fedora. ¡±Any last words?¡± He smiled. Her jaw opened, revealing an awful series of jagged teeth. ¡°I-¡± Jones cycled his gun, once, twice, thrice - until he ran out of bullets. ¡°Beginner mistake.¡± He grinned. ¡°Give the enemy time to chat. What did you think this was? Star Trek?¡± What he didn¡¯t expect was the body to keep moving. The bullets, while definitely having hit their mark, did not have his intended effect. The towering Lizardman - Lizard-Woman? Kept moving. ¡°That¡¯s not how you treat a lady.¡± She said, three bullets caught between her fingers. ¡±You should be honored we¡¯ve deigned to teach your species some manners.¡± Jones took a glance at his Deagle. ¡±Shit.¡± He said, watching her swipe at his legs.
Watson was the second to reach the room. The others had taken the opposite set of stairs, and were struggling with the plating. Watson could easily squeeze through the gap. He watched with horror as Jones fumbled with his pistol. His legs were both mangled, five deep gashes drawn upon his flesh. Blood rushed to his head, and Watson wanted to puke. But determined, he pulled up his own rifle. He hadn¡¯t used it too much - the recoil was far too strong for him. The xenotech gun blazed gloriously, blasting a burst of three rapid, inaccurate shots before the recoil knocked the gun out of his hands. Watson was knocked to his feet, but he got a glimpse of the results. Two shots hit the Matriarch, one to her knee, and another at her chest. A third one slipped by, and a nearby pipe burst open. Watson coughed. A thick, white mist shot out of the pipe, covering the entire room in a haze of mystery. Lisa and Ben worked quickly to dismantle the barrier. They copied Jones and carved open the plating, letting some of the gas out. It was enough for Ben to step in and click on the well-labelled ¡®shutters¡¯ button, which cleared the metal in front of the plexiglass. He shot the window to shreds. When the smoke finally gushed out, leaving only a thin veil of mist, Jones was sitting. Two Jones. They coughed and coughed. When their lungs cleared, like following a set beat, they fought to breathe in the clear, cool air, flushing the smoke out of their throats. Like madmen, they both glanced across the room, their eyes resting upon each other. ¡°What in the shit?¡± The two said, pointing at each other. ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be fucking kidding me.¡± Watson and Lisa stepped in simultaneously, both equally perplexed at the developing situation. ¡°Shit.¡± Ben turned to Lisa. ¡°We forgot the fucking Matriarch was a Chameleon.¡± Watson focused his attention on their wounds. ¡±Are you okay, uh... Jones?¡± He asked, turning from one Jones to the other. ¡°Which one of you is it?¡± ¡°Me.¡± They both pointed at themselves. Lisa sighed. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this.¡± She said. ¡°We need to get this done fast. Is there any way to figure out who¡¯s who?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t we ask personal questions?¡± Ben said. ¡°Alright. Where are you two from?¡± ¡°From the gate.¡± Both immediately replied. ¡°Not from this world.¡± They glared at each other. Watson took a step back. ¡°Um, I think she somehow knows the answers, too.¡± He said. ¡±The other Chameleons had a good guess, too, didn¡¯t they?¡± ¡°That they did.¡± Lisa nodded. ¡°They must have some kind of sense. Telepathy, maybe?¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t the fucking time for a shitty Sci-Fi novel.¡± Ben slammed his fist against the wall. ¡°Let me try, then.¡± Watson said. ¡°What was the brand of my car you wrecked?¡± ¡°Really, Watson?¡± They both wheezed. ¡±Cadillac.¡± ¡°We¡¯re screwed, aren¡¯t we?¡± Lisa said. Ben held his rifle up. ¡±There¡¯s an easy solution to this.¡± He said. ¡°We just shoot them both.¡± Watson jumped, standing in the line of fire. He stepped forward, letting the barrel touch his chest. ¡°No!¡± He said. ¡±We can¡¯t just do that!¡± Ben pushed him. ¡°Watson, we don¡¯t have much time!¡± He said. ¡°If we fail, there¡¯s never going to be a second chance.¡± Watson turned to Lisa for support. She looked away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Watson.¡± She said. ¡°Just one more question.¡± Watson glared at Ben. Ben sighed. ¡°One question, Watson. You got thirty seconds.¡± Watson composed himself, stilling his shivering limbs. ¡°Alright.¡± He said. Watson turned to point at Ben and his rifle. ¡°Should we shoot you?¡± For the first time, there was no synchronicity. One madly grinned and nodded. ¡°Go ahead.¡± The other shook their head furiously. ¡°No!¡± It yelped. Watson raised his pistol at the latter. It noticed his intentions, and jolted up, trying to make a break for the gate. But Watson had already fired. Transformed into a human, it lacked the shielding provided by their scales. Two shots pierced through their legs, and the rest tore into the chest. The three watched in a worried silence. When the thing began changing back, Ben made sure to finish it off. ¡°How did you know what to ask?¡± Lisa looked bewildered. ¡°Well¡­¡± Watson said. ¡°I didn¡¯t, really.¡± He scratched his head. ¡°I just kinda knew it wasn¡¯t Jones.¡± Jones laughed, his cackling echoing from wall to wall. He spat at the dead Matriarch¡¯s corpse. Jones grabbed Watson, gripping him by the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s over, ain¡¯t it?¡± He said. ¡°We fucking won.¡± Lisa smiled. ¡°We did.¡± She said. But tears formed in the corners of her eyes. ¡°But this is the end for us, I think.¡± They watched as the rebels stationed outside weakly limped in, throwing all their tactical reserves as they fled. ¡°Enemy reinforcements are nearly here!¡± They desperately yelled. ¡°What happened here?¡± Ben stared at them from the shattered plexiglass window, raising his fist in the air. ¡°We won.¡± Cheers erupted from all, regardless of their injuries. They looked happy. As happy as one could be. Even the blacked-out soldiers seemed smile in their slumber, carried along by their comrades. But they knew it was all over. All that was left was to dismantle the gate. Lisa fumbled in her pocket. She had a block of C4, ready for that purpose. But something had to be done before. She stood at the edge of the platform, using the consoles lined against the window as makeshift podium. Her eyes moist and glimmering with tears, she raised right hand, still holding tight onto her weapon. ¡°Gentlemen!¡± She shouted. She wiped the tears off with her shirt, and mustered a proud smile. ¡°Tonight, the rebellion has claimed victory against the enemy forces!¡± Cheers erupted once more. ¡°Upon the sacrifice of our comrades, to the sacrifice of you, who fought on this day¡­¡± She said, hardly maintaining her expression. ¡°I dedicate this victory.¡± ¡°But it seems this is the end of the line for us.¡± She couldn¡¯t hold back anymore. She sniffled. ¡±But our legacy will serve our generations forever. Men, stand your ground. We shall fight to the end-¡± A laughter erupted behind her, causing her to stop. It seemed like someone couldn¡¯t read the atmosphere. ¡°What in the world is this sappy shit?¡± Jones shouted. His voice was pained from his injuries. ¡°Who the hell said we¡¯re gonna die here?¡± Ben gave him a glare, unwilling to kick him yet. ¡°You got a way out, asshole?¡± Jones grinned like the smugest motherfucker. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, ¡°a gate, in fact.¡± Lisa looked at him, stone-faced. ¡°You don¡¯t mean-¡± ¡°Look, the Matriarch opened the gate.¡± He pointed behind him. ¡°And she tried to flee through it. Which means it must work, right?¡± Ben stared at him. ¡°She was desperate. Could mean anything.¡± But his voice was shaking. ¡°Steiner did say it was functional.¡± Lisa admitted. ¡°But where would it go?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the best part.¡± Jones said. ¡°You remember what he said about the first gate?¡± ¡°That it was more of a beacon, not a gate?¡± ¡°Where is it, again?¡± Jones¡¯s smugness grew with each word. Ben looked awe-struck. ¡°...in Area-51.¡± He sighed. ¡°Our base.¡± ¡°So all we have to do, then.¡± Jones said. ¡°Is teleport to this universe, not another. It should redirect us to that gate then, right?¡± Lisa looked dumbfounded. ¡°But how would that work?¡± Jones shrugged. ¡°Do I know?¡± Watson looked at the console. ¡±It must be somehow possible through there.¡± He said. ¡°We could rig the C4 already.¡± Ben said. ¡°If we fail, it won¡¯t matter. We can easily blow this up. Hell, I¡¯ll rig it with a timer. That way, it¡¯ll blow up after we pass.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get to it, then.¡± Jones said. ¡°You kids get up here.¡± Jones shouted at the soldiers below. ¡±Keep lookout while we figure this out.¡±
The men stationed at Area-51 were tense with anticipation. It had been hours since communications were cut, and they stood idly, unsure of what to do. There were only a few of them; most of the armed forces had left for this final mission. The religious ones prayed. The atheists and agnostics gave it a shot as well, their anxiety getting the better of them. Suddenly, the gate flashed on, a thin membrane of brilliant silver-blue opening from its core. The soldiers stationed to watch out for potential activity quickly responded, their fingers tightening around holstered weapons of all kinds. Hopelessness grew with fear. Fear, that this all was for naught. That they¡¯d failed. What they didn¡¯t expect was for their comrades to stumble through. One by one, the soldiers stumbled through. Most vomited after entry. Lisa stepped through last, looking horrified for a moment. She grabbed her rifle and blasted the gate, shredding the framework into pieces. The blue membrane was disturbed. It fizzled and twisted, finally melding itself to a small ball in the center. The ball popped and cracked, and it finally disappeared. Everything was still. But then, laughter erupted. It was an infectious, fervent laughter. ¡°We did it!¡± Lisa finally yelped. The tears rolled down her face. ¡°We won!¡± The stationed blinked in surprise. It took moments to sink in, and quite a while longer for the message to be broadcast. But soon enough, the entire base gathered in the gate room, all huddled up, crying, laughing, and cheering. In the middle was Jones and Watson, both flashing a genuine smile. Watson and Jones raised Watson¡¯s xenotech rifle up in the air, each one gripping it with one hand. ¡°Victory!¡± They cheered. Epilogue - Where We Belong ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s going to work?¡± Area-51 was silent under the cover of night. The military base had undergone major changes over the last couple months. Guards patrolled the walls outside, but most of the personnel inside were scientists and the like. They lazily snoozed away, sunken deeply into slumber. ¡°I¡¯ve told you. We¡¯ve got it working now.¡± The portal room saw the greatest changes. It had been converted into a large, wide hall, amalgamating many rooms in the process. Cables of all thicknesses and lengths stretched out from the middle like the roots of the tree. On the center podium stood the gate. ¡°Well, it better not drop me in the middle of the ocean.¡± The scientists were all here for the gate. This new gate was crafted with a composite material, based upon the leftover scraps retrieved from the underground base. The bluish metal glimmered in the darkness, lit only by the many monitors shining down. ¡°It won¡¯t.¡± Operations were run all throughout the day. With the Lizardmen, the gate was all about secrecy. With that burden cast away, they were able to recruit far more experts from all across the globe to examine the construct, allowing them to progress much faster. ¡°Good, then.¡± Two men stood close by the gate. One was dressed from top to bottom in a scientist¡¯s garb - the trademark white lab coat. The other was a scruffy man, dressed from top to bottom in tacky milsurp gear. He lugged a heavy bagpack with him, a rifle wrapped in fabric holstered to the side. ¡°How much longer is this going to take?¡± Jones asked, impatiently stomping the ground. Doctor Steiner shot him an incredulous look. ¡°Do you want to operate this thing?¡± He asked. Jones sighed. ¡±No offence, Steiner. Just wondering is all.¡± Jones turned to look at the television behind him. The sound was muted, but he¡¯d seen this broadcast long ago. It had been a week since Lisa was elected as the President of the United States of America. Ben was given the position of the General of the Army. Considering no more than fifteen months had passed since their victory, the progress was astounding. ¡°I¡¯m almost done.¡± Steiner said. ¡°Give me fifteen more minutes.¡± Jones affirmed with a grunt. The news scrolled to some more recent information. The Vice President hadn¡¯t been chosen yet. Delays had been made due to procedural errors. But most importantly, nobody had decided to run for the position. Nobody worthwhile, at least. Jones smiled when the news displayed the shocked face of Watson. They¡¯d convinced him to apply for the position, assuring him that he wasn¡¯t a likely candidate anyways. Watson was bewildered to find out that he was the only one qualified in running. By now, he¡¯d be at Washington, preparing for his speech the next day. Scared shitless, probably. ¡°Idiot.¡± Jones mumbled under his breath. He turned the channel. A movie was playing - a corny action flick from the 70¡¯s. Jones popped down, finding a comfortable, expensive piece of machinery to use as a seat. He kicked back, relaxed, and turned his brain off. It was amusing, all things considered. The sounds of the action movie drowned everything out, including Steiner¡¯s clicking. Only a year ago, the sounds of the battlefield ruled his life. But now, after everything was done, he felt removed from the experience. Watching the movie was like a Deja Vu. The gushing blood, the rush of the bullets, the spinning of the helicopters - Helicopters? There were no helicopters in the movie. Jones scratched his head and looked around. Finding nothing, he turned the volume down low. There - the sound was still there. The humming of the choppers. ¡°You here that, Steiner?¡± Jones asked. ¡°Ain¡¯t just me, right?¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± Steiner asked, immersed in his task. ¡°Oh. The helicopters? Yes.¡± ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Jones asked. The humming grew louder and louder, until it finally stilled. Jones sighed and returned to his chair. Before he could turn the television back on, he started hearing voices. Voices and steps. Somebody was getting near.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Mumbling a colorful curse, Jones reached for his rifle. ¡°Something¡¯s goin¡¯ on.¡± He said. ¡±Steiner, keep on it. Lemme check the door.¡± Steiner grunted a faint ¡®yes¡¯. Jones quickly unravelled the fabric, unsheathing a xenotech rifle. It had been taken care for meticulously, each and every part shimmering in the blue light. Jones walked towards the door and stood right next to it. The footsteps grew louder. A single person, he determined. Could it be - did a Lizardman slip by? They¡¯d made sure to track most of them down, but he knew there were still a few. He clutched the trigger tightly. The door beeped excitedly, showing that the user had the correct authorization. A Chameleon? The iron doors slid open smoothly, and a figure stepped through. Jones raised his rifle. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± He asked. The figure turned to face him. Gasping in surprise, he stumbled backwards, tripped, and fell. It was Watson. Watson raised his hands. ¡°It¡¯s me, it¡¯s me!¡± He yelled. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot!¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Jones asked. ¡°How do I know it¡¯s really you?¡± He managed to keep the chuckle down. ¡°That¡¯s not funny, Jones.¡± Watson pouted. ¡°Come on. Lower the damn rifle.¡± Jones did as told. ¡±Come on.¡± He grinned. ¡°Now that was funny as shit. You looked like you were going to piss yourself.¡± Watson shoved him. ¡°If you shot me, I would¡¯ve.¡± He said. ¡°What the hell are you doing here?¡± Jones¡¯s expression shifted from joy to surprise. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be in Washington? Your speech is in six hours.¡± ¡°Sure, I should be.¡± Watson nodded. ¡°But I heard certain rumors about a certain person, and decided to check it out.¡± Jones sighed. ¡°You got me.¡± He said. ¡°Who told you?¡± ¡°Ben.¡± Watson said. ¡°He mentioned you asking for a xenotech rifle. It was easy to put the pieces together after that. I know for a fact you aren¡¯t allergic to ¡®normalfags¡¯, Jones. That was the worst excuse I¡¯ve heard for skipping.¡± ¡°Please. You haven¡¯t heard anything yet.¡± Jones chuckled. ¡°So, what¡¯re you here for?¡± Watson punched him. ¡±I¡¯m here to come with you.¡± He said. ¡°That¡¯s a shitty joke.¡± Jones replied. ¡°You know that¡¯s not going to happen.¡± Watson breathed out. ¡°Well, it was worth a try.¡± He said. It looked as if he hadn¡¯t expected otherwise. ¡°In that case, I¡¯m here to stop you.¡± ¡°You know that¡¯s not going to happen, either, don¡¯t you?¡± Jones asked. ¡°I¡¯m going, regardless of what you think about it.¡± ¡°What can I do, then?¡± Watson wore a bitter frown. ¡°I know pleading won¡¯t work, and begging won¡¯t cut it either.¡± ¡°Nothing will change my mind.¡± Jones laid his hands on his friend¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Watson, I have to go.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you get that we give a shit about you?¡± Watson shouted in frustration. ¡°After all we¡¯ve been through, you¡¯re just going to pack up and leave? Without saying anything?¡± ¡°Well, this was exactly why, actually.¡± Jones said. He radiated a serene calmness. ¡°Why?¡± Watson asked. ¡°I thought you hated it there.¡± ¡°I do.¡± Jones said. ¡°But honestly, Watson, I can barely stand it here, either.¡± Watson glared at him. It wasn¡¯t anger that he really felt. ¡°Then stay.¡± He said. ¡°We have the power now. The power to change things for the better.¡± ¡°But that¡¯s your job.¡± Jones gripped his shoulder tight. ¡±It¡¯s not for me to do. If you understand what I mean.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Well, guys like me - we¡¯re hard-headed idiots.¡± Jones said. ¡°I ain¡¯t good for any of that. Negotiating, writing papers, politics and shit. We¡¯re useful elsewhere.¡± ¡°Where?¡± Watson faced him. ¡°On the field.¡± Jones smiled. ¡°That¡¯s where we belong. We can¡¯t change the world, Watson. That¡¯s for people like you to do." Jones said. "And that''s where we come in. We''ll make it so that people like you can do what you need to do." Watson wiped away the moisture from his eyes. ¡°Shit.¡± He sniffled. ¡°I can¡¯t change your mind, can I?¡± ¡°No.¡± Jones sighed. Watson looked into his eyes. ¡±I want to give you something, then.¡± He said. ¡°Honestly¡­ I kind of knew it would end like this.¡± Watson handed Jones his polished Colt 1911. ¡°This thing?¡± Jones gasped in surprise. ¡±But, ain¡¯t this your grandpa¡¯s heirloom?¡± ¡°Well, now it¡¯s yours.¡± Watson smirked. ¡°I¡¯m not fit for a battlefield, am I? It¡¯s¡­ Useless for me.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Jones trailed off. Seeing the resolve in Watson¡¯s eyes, he simply nodded. ¡°Thanks.¡± Jones said, stashing the Colt away carefully. ¡°The gate¡¯s about to open!¡± Steiner shouted from across the room. The gate on the podium flashed on. A liquid-like, round substance formed in its center, crackling with energy. Slowly but surely, it expanded, smoothing itself out to a thin layer of the deepest navy. There were no imperfections. The brilliant blue light shone against Jones. Watson straightened his back. ¡±If¡­¡± He said. ¡°If we make this place better.¡± He asked. ¡°If we make it worthwhile for you, will you come back?¡± ¡°Anytime.¡± Jones grinned. ¡°Even if it takes a hundred years. I''ll find a way back.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have to do my best, then.¡± Watson resolved. Jones stepped onto the podium. Slowly, he reached his fingers out, dipping it through the spacetime continuum. He felt a soft breeze on the other side. Jones turned around, and saluted. ¡°Goodbye, Watson!¡± He yelled, his voice filled with respect. ¡°See you later, Jones!¡± Watson responded in kind, his face hardened with resolve. After Jones stepped through the membrane, the gate fizzled. Within moments, the gate collapsed, leaving Watson behind.