The assistant general was the first to stumble out of the vehicle quickly falling to his knees and coughing up the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk. Billion's companions took position at the poor man's sides watching him empty himself with almost curious expressions behind their dark glasses.
Billion followed, climbing over the general and exit out through General Mattson's door with more grace than any human Dipper had ever seen. He snatched the walkie talkie out of her hand and crushed it in her face as if it were an empty soda can, his eyes glowing harshly. "No more tricks, madam general." The entity warned, grabbing her arm and yanking her out of the car. "Don't waste the young doctor's words that are keeping you alive."
Dipper exchanged worried looks with Stanford before following the general out. A wave of nausea hit the intern causing him to turn away from the group, smacking a hand on the sleek black paint job of the car to keep himself upright as he waited for any bile to climb up his throat. A large hand gently rubbed his back as he stood there waiting to throw up.
To the young man's surprise, Billion waited patiently for the humans to recover from the trip. Perhaps "jump" would be a better word.
Looking around at the streets and buildings, the group was nowhere near the research facility. Coffee shops, small restaurants, and a loan office in immediate view behind the unobservant masses of people across the street on their right. On the group's left stood iron wrought fencing protecting a lush green expanse with a single monumental structure in the distance. The White House. Still standing proud after many years and many elections with it's prime flag hanging from the rod atop the domed roof lifelessly in the wind's absence.
The group stared at the grand relic, apprehensive realizations dawning upon the humans at how real the situation had become. How close they would be to see the turning in history not only for America but Earth itself.
The entity turned away from The White House to the humans he dragged into this momentous occasion with glee sparking in his eyes. His form appeared taller than when they had climbed into the car at the research facility. "Now, madam and gentlemen, who here has met the President?" He asked in the voice of a kindergarten teacher on a field trip with his hands hidden behind his back.
General Mattson straightened herself proudly with her chin held high in a weak attempt to intimidate their captor with brave pretenses, but nonetheless obvious that she had met the big man in charge of the country.
The assistant general, still green around the gills, merely raised his free hand and clutching his notepad close to his chest.
Stanford coughed into his fist, an annoyed expression on his face. "I have, unfortunately." He answered, speaking the last word more quietly.
Billion turned his excitedly cold eyes upon the young intern, who still eyed The White House with an interesting glint in his own eyes. "Are... Are you going to kill President Donaldson?" Dipper asked after a moment. The intern turned his head, curious, analytical brown eyes piercing into cold blues. Eyes that were reading his every move like a complicated math problem, seeming soft and docile but clearly led to a dangerous mind at work. Eyes that have seen things that others haven't. Billion almost shivered at the blankly curious expression he was given, whether in excitement or fear, he didn't dwell on it.
The entity smiled calmly with a small chuckle before meeting those eyes evenly. "Only if it becomes necessary." Billion answered smoothly.
The human didn't respond in fear of his world soon collapsing or of the impending doom that Billion was promising to a single man. The pure uncaring nature this young man had for his own planet was starting to strike a nerve with him. He could see it clearly bothered the other three hostages.
