"BISHOP!" the voice was cold, and hard.
Instantly Bishop screwed up his face, "Hold on" placing the phone on hold as he turned towards the president. The press conference was finished, and the people had received what little information they required to get through the day, now Bishop just wanted to get back to base and finish his newest project. The president had other ideas, who stood staring at him from down the hallway, Bishop stared back his eyebrows narrowing with each passing second. "I'll ring you back." Shoving the phone in his pocket he stormed passed several news crews, to the President. They shook hands, firmly and with little appreciation of one another.
"You called," Bishop growled.
"Yes, we have some, matters to discuses about you little … um … operation." The president was a tall older man, democratic, recently elected, and not easily intimidated. This worried Bishop, more than what we was showing.
"Don't worry, we'll be finished in a jiffy," the president gave a fake laugh, Bishop's frown only grew.
"I see," Bishop replied.
"Follow me."
Bishop walked behind the President through the Whitehouse's many hallways, news reporters and camera crews where packing up their stuff while the special agents watched on like silent hawks in the background waiting to pounce. Every so often the President stopped for stray photographers to snap a quick photo, Bishop silently stood by getting increasingly frustrated. One news reporter caught his attention, she was carrying a large case when she glanced over, and her eyes behind a set of thickly framed glasses stared at him, from the opposite side of the hallway. Their eyes connected for a moment, her red hair tired perfectly she seemed to recognize him.
"We'll go into the oval office."
Bishop swore under his breath, "Sure." He looked back, and the woman was gone.
They walked towards the more private part of the Whitehouse where the access was restricted to security personal only; there was little chance of their conversation being overheard here.
"I have been reading over the reports Bishop and I have to say I am very concerned."
Bishop glanced at him, "Concerned how, sir?"
The president said nothing, only gave Bishop a sideways glance as they walked into the Oval office. The president sat at the desk, never keeping his eyes off his guest. Bishop sat opposite.
"Bishop, what I am about to tell you are for your ears only."
Bishop felt a small smirk creep across his lips.
"At twelve hundred hours yesterday, on the Afghan coast there was an instance of, well truthfully I don't know what it was. The soldiers on the ground said they heard something like an explosion when this appeared."
The president reach towards the smallest of one of the many folders labeled confidential. He glanced back at Bishop before tearing it open, sprawling a series of disturbing photographs onto the desk, most where black and white.
"Since then we haven't been able to make contact with the troops on the ground."
"Air support, sir?"
"None, we can't get close enough as it affects the onboard computers, in fact we're unable to get within a 20 mile radius of the thing."
Intrigued Bishop picked up a photo, immediately upon looking at the photo he almost dropped it, he felt his mouth run dry and his heart racing in anticipation.
It was an extremely blurry shot but there was no mistake this was a giant alien spaceship. It looked like an old hydrogen airship but with massive wings and was torn open and engulfed in flame.
"I can't release this to the public," continued the president, "Not since the Shredder debacle and the Triceraton invasion."
Bishop folded the photo up and placed it into his pocked, "What do you want me to do sir?"
"Get a team together and discover what it is, destroy it if necessary, but for god's sake make sure the press don't find out."
Bishop nodded and headed towards the door, as he was about to leave the president spoke.
"And Bishop, to think I was going to axe your organization during my presidency. So don't mess up."
Instantly Bishop's frown returned as he left the office.
The private plane back to Area 51 was delayed due to heavy rain, throughout the entire trip Bishop sat fixated on the photograph, of the many aliens and their spaceships he had shot down over the course of his career not once had he seen a ship this size. The bodies of the dead soldiers were barely visible next to the burning wreckage and the majority of the ship didn't find inside the photographers frame.
"Another Martini sir?" the hostess asked.
Bishop placed the photo back inside his pocket, nodded to the hostess then reached for his phone. "Shit," there were five missed calls and variety of unread text messages. As he dialed the number the hostess refilled his glass giving him a smirk as she left towards the galley. The phone continued to ring, sipping on his martini he waited. "What-" he tore the phone from his ear as he received the recorded voicemail message. Franticly he scrolled through the contacts and rung again, only he received the same recorded message of a woman. Bishop downed the rest of his martini, slamming the empty glass into the table. The air hostess came running up the plane, her blond hair flying. Obviously she was bored, with only one customer on the privet jet, but it was irritating. "Another one sir?" she asked. Bishop stared up at her; her top was unbuttoned showing her pink lacy bra, and she had plastered on another layer of foundation, so her face looked a little orange. Bishop screwed up his face, "Does it look like I want another fucking drink." He watched as she screwed up her hands into fists, and stormed off. Bishop rolled his eyes, and continued to stare at the photograph, it would be several more hours before they made landing into Area 51. Finally when the seatbelt sign flashed on, Bishop jammed the photograph inside his jacket pocket. The plane shook violently as it descended, from the window Bishop saw the flashes of lightning and the heavy, continues rain that battered the plane around like a ping-pong ball. He sat confidently, watching a tiny glow of light in the distance it was the only visible thing outside in a sea of darkness. The plane flew onwards, shaking violently from turbulence. Bishop could hear the muffled, cried from the air hostess coming from the Galley. He shook his head, disappointed fixated on the light out the window that steadily growing and dividing into individual street lights, he could now see the small headlights of trunks as the departed the base. The plane dropped speed and there was once particularly large jolt that would've had Bishop flying off the chair, if he wasn't wearing his seatbelt. The warehouse buildings and the various military vehicles parked inside rushed passed, then slowly the plane grinded to a halt. Bishop unclipped his seatbelt the moment the plane stopped moving, the pilot gave him a thumps up before the door was opened and walked down the steps. He was greeted by Captain Herrmann an overly confident but a military hardliner, he stood holding too umbrellas one for himself the other for Bishop, not far from the plane. The rain was deafening and Bishop could see him talking but couldn't make out any of the words. Forked lightning flashed followed by an explosion of thunder. Bishop ran towards Herrmann, his shoes squelching in the mud.
"How var Vashington?" Herrmann asked, he had to shout over rain as he passed the umbrella to Bishop.
"Good, I have something important to discuss with you."
"Vhat?"
The quickly made their way into the warehouse, the large doors opened automatically, it was a large space, and an assortment of equipment surrounded them except for a notable empty spot in the center of the warehouse. Bishop threw down the umbrella, Herrmann kept on hold to his.
"So vhat var so good about Vashington?"
Bishop smirked, as they walked onto the center square the moment their feet were touching it, the floor began to move downwards.
"I have been put in charge of something, by the president." Bishop reached into his jacket pocket and gave it to Herrmann who unfolded it quickly. Bishop watched as the Captain stared at it for a moment, and then smirked when the realization crossed Herrmann's face.
"Eine, spacecraft?"
Bishop nodded, "Afghan coast, twelve hundred hours. I've got to set up a team, and work out what the aliens want, or how to blow it to hell from where it came."
Herrmann nodded, his mustache twitching, "Sounds vonderful. I vill see if I can-"
The secret lift stopped moving, and they were greeted with Bishop's laboratory. Aliens floated in giant canisters filled with green liquid were neatly organized in rows. It was just one of many laboratories each with their own uses. This was just a storage area. The sounds of humming could be heard from the center of the room. Bishop stepped down and strolled into the Lab, the many creatures staring at him as he walked passed.
"Stockman!"
"Ah, Bishop isn't it so nice to see you. How was Washington?"
A tall African-American man stood over a newly dissected body, as he turned to face at Bishop his left eye was metal and shone a red light. Bishop said nothing.
Stockman laughed "Well I'm doing incredibly well, thanks for asking now that I have my new body."
Bishop shook his head; Stockman had been going on about this new robot body for over a week. Bishop turned to leave.
"Oh, I would be checking up on her, if I was you."
Bishop felt his heart race and his eye widen. Then stormed off, Herrmann tried to follow but Bishop ignored him.