“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.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

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.