Protocol 1337 by D. Henbane Page B

for your friend?” She asks.
    “I will have the biggest steak you got and two Flying Dutchmen.” I say.
    “And what for your sides? We have...” She says.
    “Skip the sides, just want the steak please.” I reply. Angela hops along to get our food ready. A minute later she comes back with my drinks. I slam one and motion her for another round. I slide one over to doc and wait for his reaction.
    “I don’t drink, Haus.” Doc says.
    “You do now. You are on the verge of the most important scientific discovery of all time. I think you deserve to get a little tipsy. You see all those hicks out there on the dance floor? Most are half drunk and dancing around like idiots. They will never go down in history like you, but they don’t care because tonight they are having fun.” I do my best to bring on the peer pressure.
    It works perfectly, plenty of drinks, and hours later, Cox was out there dancing like an idiot with the rest. For once in his life, he looks like he is really enjoying life. Once he drops the scientist mentality, he comes off as very funny. He was even flirting with women. People were gathering around him to listen to his stories from his travels in other countries. The people, the different cultures, and, of course, the strange traditions they practice. Last call, brings our celebrations to an early halt.
    We stagger out into the crisp night air, and I look down at my Dlink. It is close to two am, people are sliding into their vehicles to go sleep it off. Cox is rambling off some half-drunk nonsense when I hear the sound of moaning from the alley. I walk around the building towards the dumpster. I see a shadowy figure leaning up against it waving a bottle of whiskey. “Are you alright?” I ask.
    “You don’t know....don’t judge me... *hic” A severely drunken female voice answers back. I have seen this before at parties and it's never a good sign. You always hear the horror stories of someone left behind that later drown in a puddle of their own vomit. I decide to investigate. I pull out my Zippo to get a better look. It's Commander Trixie! One thing is for certain, I need to get her back to base, hopefully, without anyone noticing. “Trixie, you need to get up. I will give you a ride home.” I say sternly.
    “I don’t need your help...Oh wait... maybe I do. Here hold this, I need to piss.” She replies. Trixie stumbles up to her feet, takes two drunken steps, pauses, then vomits all over my boots. I throw the bottle of whiskey into the dumpster. Trixie lunges forward and I scoop down to catch her. I lift her back up to her feet, and I realize how differently she looks in civilian clothing.
    She looks to be in her late forties, with long brown hair, brown eyes, and large lips. She has a few freckles dotted across her face, and the subtle appearance of wrinkles starting to form. “Aren’t you just a knight in shining armor!” Trixie says with slurred speech.
    “Hey doc! I need your help over here.” I yell. Cox rushes over to me and lends me a hand to support Trixie.
    “Good god, where did you find her?” Cox asks.
    “Leaning next to the dumpster, and watch out for the puke pile there.” I reply. Cox tries to tell me she needs to go to a hospital, but I convince him she will be fine, just needs to sleep it off. I will take her back to the base driving her Jeep, and see to it that she finds her bed safe. He helps me load her into the Jeep and now to find her keys. I try to wake her, but it's no use, she's out cold. I slip into the driver's seat and check the visor. Sure enough, one set of keys and we are one step closer to getting out of here.
    “Are you coming, doctor?” A female voice yells from the passenger window of Cox's car.
    “Is that Angela?” I ask. Cox shoots me a million dollar smile. I start the engine of the Jeep and close the door. I yell to Cox to have a good time as he walks away. The drive back to the base went surprisingly well, and I was even surprised I made it