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.

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.