OVERHAUL NOTICE:

Hello, everyone. In addition to resurrecting this story from the junk drawer at long last, I will also be going back over the early chapters to make some stylistic improvements, fix inconsistencies, and seal up some plot holes in the original chapters. For newcomers, because the story began before the events of mid-season six, I thereby classify it as mild AU. For those readers who are returning, I thank you for your continued interest and support.

And so, without further ado, welcome to the new and improved Rivals.

Prologue: The Mushroom War

"God help us all."

Captain Gary Warren stood paralyzed in shock and disbelief over what had just transpired. The United States of America was under full-scale WMD attack, and the president just authorized the use of its entire nuclear arsenal in a retaliatory strike. From military assets both domestic and abroad, nuclear-tipped spears rose from their silos and metal beasts took to the skies, bellies filled with death. At sea, leviathans spat fire from beneath the ocean's surface to answer the call to war. It seemed that as the old saying went, humanity had opted to end itself with a bang rather than a whimper. For his part, Captain Warren silently cursed its fate nonetheless.

It was common knowledge, of course, that for the past 75 years or so human civilization had rapidly been slipping further and further into decline. Limited scale tactical nuclear exchanges, once considered unthinkable in their own right, were commonplace by the time World War III erupted in earnest in 2158. Technological development, once exponentially growing with the promise of ushering in a new golden age, had now stagnated for nearly one hundred years for the vast majority of mankind. What new advances were made tended to be hoarded by governments and their militaries as a matter of necessity. Formerly powerful world players like Israel, Iran, India, Pakistan, and many other nations lied in radioactive ruins, their precious resources locked away from the rest of the world by radiation and powerful area denial weapons systems. As resources became more difficult to obtain, trade relations between once allied nations began to break down and the already weak world economy fell into tatters.

There always seemed to have been some glimmer of hope, however. Despite the diplomatic tensions and the immense costs associated with them, there had been a few successful multinational efforts that hinted some means to a brighter future. Civilian space stations were constructed, colony missions to Luna and Mars were well in the works, and there were even plausible rumors that deep within the now heavily guarded and isolated governmental scientific havens, the wonders of temporal and inter-dimensional travel were entering mankind's grasp at last. But this final exchange would undo all of that.

As his mind began to fully register and accept the current situation, Warren felt a surge of emotions shoot through him. Boiling anger and crushing sadness were to be expected, but even among such powerful emotions, another stood out even more plainly. Guilt. Warren was currently standing miles below the surface of the Earth at Raven Rock Mountain Complex. Site R-7 was the newest subdivision added to the facility, which had grown immensely from its Cold War origins, and was said to be able to hypothetically withstand even the Yellowstone supervolcano's expected seismic activity. The same could not be said for the estimated 450 million Americans stuck on the surface. His friends, his family, his countrymen… The best outcome he could hope for them was that they be vaporized in the blasts rather than have to endure succumbing to death by radiation poisoning. Officially, the US' ground, air, and satellite based anti-missile systems were to make short work of any incoming nukes, but the sad truth was that while hundreds if not thousands of missiles and bombers would indeed be stopped, they were hopelessly overwhelmed. Even with defenses operating at peak efficiency and facilities like Raven Rock to soften the blow, enough damage would be done such that the United States as it was presently known would effectively cease to exist.

An internal conflict began to play out within the mind of the officer. His beloved country appeared by every objective measure to be doomed to perish, but what of humanity in general? The threat of retaliation had long been an effective deterrent to the use of weapons of mass destruction on a strategic scale, but what good would carrying it out actually serve given the circumstances? With the amount of firepower the president had just unleashed, there would hardly be a single square inch of civilization untouched. The years of sacrifices for the future he and his countrymen had fought for hadn't been solely for America, had they? Of course the thought of any new world shaped entirely by those ideals which he had opposed made him cringe, but even if the sole survivors of the human race were to be his enemies, surely that was preferable to extinction. Right?

"Mr. President, Warren AFB requests confirmation to launch Project Obsidian," came the voice of the Air Force Chief of Staff.

How ironic, to share a name with the nucleus tasked with coordinating this insane nightmare.

"Confirmed, General."

What the hell was Project Obsidian? Being attached to the Joint Chiefs' staff meant that Warren often overheard classified information that he somehow both knew nothing about and yet was sworn to secrecy from divulging and forbidden from questioning. This dynamic had irked the curious young man ever since his posting to the Pentagon, but he never breached his standards of professionalism and duty by complaining about it before. With the imminent end of everything he knew and loved, however, he felt something within him give.

"Excuse me Mr. President," he began in a tone far more hostile than he realized. "This is ridiculous! We and a handful of other bases are all that's going to be left of the United States and possibly of all humanity in twenty minutes and you know it! I think we all deserve an explanation for exactly what the hell is going on here!"

The entirety of the command center froze, momentarily silent in surprise from the sudden brash interjection until a Marine Corps general shouted for his silence and respect. Surprisingly, the president merely lifted his hand and spoke.

"It's alright, General."

The president wore a tired expression on his face that had every decision he'd ever made carved into its wrinkles and seared into his white hair. Though being only 58 years old, he seriously looked to be pushing 70 on a good day, and at this moment he looked positively ancient. Sighing wearily, he addressed everyone in the room.

"Everyone here has a right to know. Project Obsidian is either to be our salvation or our greatest mistake. I know I must be grossly oversimplifying the science behind it, but I understand that some of our best scientists have been developing the means to manipulate time and space. We have built a prototype of the device needed here in this very facility. I'm told that, in layman's terms, they need to weaken the fabric of reality itself in order to ply it to our advantage. According to our best intelligence, the Russians have actually managed to create such a weak point. Given enough activation energy, we can create a cascading effect to expand this point into a tear wide enough to reach our facility and use it to transport a small group of representatives into the past to attempt to avert this crisis and potentially save all of humanity, including those we've lost in this war."

The room was immediately filled with the low murmurs of the facility staff. Some hopeful, others confused, still others skeptical. The president merely continued to speak, however, and the whispering was silenced as swiftly as it began.

"I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a very real chance, however, that the attempt could destroy the Earth entirely. However, given that we already stand at the brink of annihilation, I, along with representatives from the highest orders of our military and legislature, have determined it worth the risk. A unique, high-velocity re-entry ICBM equipped with a fusion warhead is launching as I speak. It will strike the enemy science facility in roughly twenty minutes time. The resulting detonation should provide enough activation energy to begin the cascade effect."

"Who's going through, sir? And what happens to the rest of us?" asked a Corporal.

"I and the Joint Chiefs of Staff have been selected by Congress to pass through. As I said, R-7 is equipped with everything we need. If we are successful, the events of this timeline will never come to pass. Instead we shall have a new, better future."

The chorus of voices began again, silenced this time by Warren.

"What if the fusion warhead is shot down?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Both the missile carrying it and the warhead itself are heavily defended against even the best anti-ballistic missile technology. However, to minimize the chances that it is engaged at all, we have launched our retaliatory strike protocols. The Russian facility is remote and primarily relied on secrecy for protection. Because our other missiles target more obvious and conventional targets, they should be engaged first, providing a sufficient distraction. Our other enemies will be busy intercepting our missiles headed their way, and will thus not be tempted to attempt to engage our missile on launch." The president coughed once before holding up both hands. "I'm sorry, but that's all the information I can give you. This is our last hope, ladies and gentlemen. Now we haven't much time. Enemy missiles will impact the base in fifteen minutes. Ours won't impact for another twenty." He turned to face the Joint Chiefs of Staff. "Gentlemen, make your preparations."

Warren felt slightly comforted by comforted by the President's words; it was a relief to hear that there was a worthwhile objective behind this gambit, even if it was going to be an all or nothing shot. What he didn't understand was why if the President genuinely felt that everyone had a right to know, he didn't say anything sooner. Then again, events were unfolding at quite a rapid pace, despite its feeling of eternity.

The next several minutes passed in a slow-motion blur of efficiency despite the now palpable smell of fear and worry in the air. Surface personnel were called into the facility and heavy blast doors sealed behind them. Emergency response personnel readied for damage control duties. The President, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and their aides, Warren included, relocated to one of the several maintenance only areas. Upon arrival, the President spoke a code into an intercom and the "maintenance door" opened to reveal a rather sizeable hallway from which several men and women in lab coats were rapidly approaching. Warren noted that as the door shut behind them, yet another set of independent blast doors were shut in front of it and began being fused to the frame by some unseen welding device around the edges.

"The door is sealing shut behind you. Nothing is getting into or out of this room again. Don't worry, Mr. President. It won't have been sealed yet when we transport you back, and for the rest of us it won't matter." The lead scientist looked grim as he said the last bit.

"Lead the way." said the President, gesturing forward.

The group was led back down the long hallway, then down another branching off its left. At its end, a high speed cargo elevator took them all down an unknown distance before opening into a rather large laboratory. Despite the more pressing matters on his mind, Warren was silently impressed; this place was a marvel of engineering. At the center of the lab was a large pad underneath a glowing blue orb hanging from a massive machine on the ceiling. On all sides around the walls were computer equipment terminals, status meters, and various machinery whose purpose Warren couldn't even begin to wonder. Support columns ran throughout the facility, all of them covered with tubes and wires like ivy on a brick wall.

The lead scientist led the President and his top military advisors to the pad, and directed the rest of their supporting staff to take up positions at various stations around the complex. It was technician's work; they must not have made it inside before the base lockdown. Once everyone was in place, they braced themselves as the head scientist took his position on a platform behind the orb. A minute or so of silent waiting followed, feeling like a small age to the anxious assembly until the countdown for the first incoming missile.

"Missile impact in one minute… Missile impact in thirty seconds… Impact in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…" The room was deathly silent for three more seconds before a low growl was heard followed by a jarring shockwave that rattled the room.

"Missile impact four miles north-northwest!"

Another three growls were heard and the room began to tremble more violently.

"Missile impacts six miles north, four miles east, one mile southeast! They're tacticals!"

These were bombs in the kiloton yields and they were having an effect this far down?

"Fusion warhead detonated! Thirty seconds to rift expansion!"

Warren counted the seconds by listening intently to the ticks of his watch, trying to control his ragged breathing. Thirty seconds came and went. For an instant, he thought that perhaps the endeavor had failed. Not two seconds later, however, a horrible shockwave greater than any produced by the tactical nukes rocked the facility, throwing many off their feet. Equipment revved, whined, and otherwise began to make some rather unhealthy sounding noises from the strain.

"Space weakening! All techs initiate startup sequence!"

The blue orb began to glow brighter and brighter as techs read out reports and numbers. Warren's station was reporting levels within the range he had been instructed to watch for. Becoming caught up in his task, he almost missed a frenzied warning.

"INCOMING! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

A deafening roar sounded through the facility. The temperature seemed to rise by twenty degrees. Bits of damaged equipment and reinforced concrete began to separate from the ceiling, walls, and supports.

"Direct hit on The Rock! R-7 Levels 1-7 breached! Lost contact with subdivisions T, 1, 3, and 4!"

Warren shot his eyes back to the monitor, seeing the numbers on the screen begin to rise well beyond the point he had been instructed to monitor.

"SIR! These levels are rising too high!" he shouted in vain.

An explosion ripped through the complex, sending a team of scientists on one of the walls flying and spraying blood all the way to Warren's console near the center.

"WE'RE LOSING CONTAINMENT! DAMAGE CONTROL!"

"GAAAAAHHHH!"

"No, NO, NOOOO!"

A chorus of voices screaming in stress, pain, and outright panic sounded a symphony of chaos. Warren was knocked to the ground by another violent explosion he could not see the source of. Trying to get up, he felt a sharp pain in his side as a piece of shrapnel had ripped straight through him. "AAARRGH!"

"THE PRESIDENT'S DOWN!"

These words managed to find their way through the pain and Warren turned his head to the pad. The President was on all fours, blood squirting out in pulses from between his fingers which had reached upward to cover a gaping tear in his neck. Two of the five JCS members that were accompanying the president appeared to be at the very least severely wounded if not dead, lying motionless. The blue orb glowed brighter than ever, and began to emit arcs of energy around the pad. One of the JCS attempted to move to assist the dying President, but was hit by one of the arcs and collapsed into a smoking heap as the smell of burnt flesh began to fill the air. More explosions rocked the facility and now large portions of the lab appeared to be collapsing. A hapless scientist screamed in agony as a support column collapsed and crushed his leg.

"THE RIFT IS OPEN! SOMEONE GET TO IT! THIS WHOLE PLACE IS COMING DO-YAAAAHH!"

A severed arm landed not too far from where Warren was trying to stand once more. There were fewer than half of the staff left alive now and none were moving toward the platform. He could make out a scientist huddled in a fetal position sobbing curses to himself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I don't wanna die!"

Warren looked back to the center platform which now seemed to have opened a portal of some sort, glowing bright blue around the edges and black in the center. A guard attempted to run to it but was struck down by one of the arcs, falling with a loud thud and his gun clattering to the floor. One of the female staffers met the same fate. Warren's body knew it was a suicide charge and his instincts tried to keep him rooted to the floor away from the horrifying deathtrap. Despite the pain and his personal terror, the Captain willed himself to rise to his feet and bolted for the portal. Another piece of shrapnel tore through his chest before he could reach it, causing him to double over in searing pain. His senses dulled and obscenities played in his mind over and over again as he began to wheeze. Looking down, he saw a blood stain spreading across his uniform just to the left of where he was sure his heart would be. He felt the strength begin to fade from him and his vision began to blur. He was going into shock. Only a few more feet to go. Summoning the last of his strength, he crawled onto the pad and reached out for the portal.

The last thing he remembered was a flash of blue and the shattering of the orb, then nothingness.