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?”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“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."