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Description
Crappy development story is crappy :I
(Btw, the MDTA fictionaaaaal is a branch of the US Airforce, in case u were wondering... cuz those uniforms are pretty sucky :/ )

California, Here I Come
Right back where I started from
where bowers of flowers
bloom in the sun
each morning at dawning
birdies sing at everything
a sun kissed miss said, "Don't be late!"
that's why I can hardly wait
open up that golden gate
California, Here I Come!
- [link]

Ryan pulled back the curtains of the manor slightly and peered out the window to the courtyard below his study. A black nondescript car with tinted windows had pulled into the drive. Again. The vehicle had become a common blemish on the property since the year before, and it seemed to bring a cloud of darkness each time it rolled up the drive. Per usual, two broad shouldered men in formal military attire and sunglasses stepped out of the car. No matter how hard he scrutinized them, he could never tell what the reason for their presence was.

A feeling of dread stirred inside of him, as it usually did whenever he saw the black car. It had never really been a bearer of good news, and in fact actually brought a lot of unnecessary pain. Although he knew that General Ward had good intentions, he had suspicions that the MDTA Agency was not so kind-hearted. He let go of the curtain, cutting the men striding to the door out of his sight.

He made his way down the stairs as he heard the knock on the door, but he was too late to intercept Aimee - the efficient creature she was - before she answered it. He paused at the top of the stairway.

The girl had opened the door cheerfully at first, but upon seeing who was on the other side, her attitude became suddenly wary. “…May I help you?” Her voice echoed back to him.

One of the men flipped out an ID from his coat, “Colonel Adams, MDTA.” He said evenly. He pocketed the card, “Is a Mr. Fowler on the residence?”

Ryan noticed Aimee’s shoulders stiffen, “I know who you are, you son of a –“

“That’s enough, Ms. Marx,” Ryan snapped coldly to his student as he clipped down the stairs. The teen whipped around like a German shepherd told off, wherefore she glared between the stable owner and the newcomers, before turning on her heel and disappearing into the kitchen. The screen door slammed from inside soon after.

Ryan kept a straight face as he turned back to the visitors, “Excuse me, please come inside, gentlemen. I am Ryan Fowler.” He said with detachment.

The two men stepped just inside the threshold, the other slightly behind the Colonel, who appeared to take the lead. Ryan motioned toward the sitting room as he closed the door, “Won’t you sit down?”

The soldiers kept by the door. With a deliberate and serious movement, the Colonel pulled off his sunglasses to reveal reflective brown eyes. “I’m afraid we can’t stay, Mr. Fowler.” He said in a business-like manner, “We’re only here to relay a message from General Ward; one he is extremely troubled that he is unable to deliver in person, as of which he sends his deepest apologies.”

Ryan rolled his tongue against his cheek and eyed the men carefully. After a short pause, he made his way toward the stairs, “Why don’t we discuss this in my office,”

The Colonel and his shadow sat in the chairs across from Ryan’s desk, a position he felt more comfortable in keeping them. By sitting in the seat behind the desk, he was able to sooth his frayed nerves with the illusion of having things in hand. “Now then,” He said with an elusive tone, “What is this business that brings you to AVRRA? I’m fairly certain that if the Portal had opened again, we would be well aware of it.”

The Colonel took in a deep breath, “Actually, sir, that is why we’re here; the inactivity of your portal has caused some anxiety amongst our scientists.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, “Anxiety?” He laughed, “Since when were you goons anxious about anything?”

The other man in the chair beside him looked into his lap with a shielding smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of his tanned face. “Regardless of your obvious dislike for us, Mr. Fowler, I’m sure even you’ve realized by now that this situation would be far beyond any sort of containment without the help of the MDTA.” He glanced up, his elbows resting casually on the chair’s armrests, “Your precious Riding Academy would be fragmented shambles plastered all over the media with no hope of recovery without us.”

“And who, may I ask, are you?” Ryan snapped back.

“Erm, pardon me Mr. Fowler, this is Major Bennett Reid.” Adams interrupted as Major Reid folded his fingers casually in his lap, “He’s from the MDTA’s station on the West Coast.”

Reid dipped his head with a slightly devious-looking face, his eyes hidden behind his shades, “Mr. Fowler,”

Ryan watched him carefully; he didn’t like facing off with someone whose eyes he couldn’t read. “What do you want.” He stated squarely, a question directed at Adams.

The older man let out a sigh as his mind seemed to click back to something rehearsed in his mind. “As I was saying before, our scientists are deeply troubled by the signs of inactivity apparent at the site, and likewise, their research has currently come to a halt.” He explained, “The MDTA is afraid that further work regarding sending the Temporal Refugees home will remain at a standstill indefinitely – or at least until the Portal shows some signs of activity in the near future. With that being said, the General has since been exploring sites other than the Utah Portal in which –“

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ryan interrupted suddenly with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, I just thought I heard you say something like ‘exploring other sites.’”

Adams looked down into his lap at his sunglasses in his hand as he tilted his head, “That information had previously been labeled as ‘Classified,’ but in sight of recent developments, the restriction has been cleared for lower levels of security clearance, such as you and your staff.” Carefully, he leaned forward with his elbows on Ryan’s desk. “Your Wishing Well is not the only temporal portal in the world – actually, far from it. What makes your portal – also known as the Utah Portal – unique is the fact that it is, er, was, the one of the only portals known to be currently active. However, recently, we’ve discovered another Americana portal, one that is greater in size and activity than the Utah portal ever was.”

At this point, the older officer sat up a little straighter in his chair and squared his shoulders, “Which brings me to the reason we’re here. As AVRRA and its staff are considered legal ‘guardians’ of these temporal victims – your Matthew Kent, for example – you are responsible for their wellbeing and foster care –“

“They’re not children, Colonel,” Ryan interjected with annoyance, “These are adults who can fend for themselves,”

“Not in the 21st century,” Adams seemed to growl back with a hint of warning, “And most certainly not in California, which is where you are all moving to.”

It took a few moments for the stable owner to digest what the Colonel had just said. He pursed his lips and blinked wide. “E-excuse me?”

Adams sighed, “The Pleiades Portal is located in Southern California, where we have stationed our West Coast operations.”

“Which means, in order for us to continue our research to send your little time travelling liabilities home, they must be closest to the most active portal.” Reid pitched in.

Ryan was suddenly pushing his chair back and standing straight, “N-now you two don’t understand; I can’t just abandon my stables! I-I have clients, and employees – and horses!”

“The General figured you’d say as much, so he’s taken the liberty of buying the property surrounding the portal for several miles radius and has hired a contractor to begin work on building facilities for your animals.” Adams reassured him, “They are just as important therapy-wise for keeping your temporal guests comfortable; it’s essential that the move be as seamless as possible to avoid causing them undue stress.”

Ryan ran a hand over his jaw, “They’re not skittish like horses, you know,” he muttered under his breath. He looked out the window down into the courtyard below. Splash was leaning as far over the fence as he could, sniffing at the black car. He sighed, “They’re human beings.”

Description
Crappy development story is crappy :I
(Btw, the MDTA fictionaaaaal is a branch of the US Airforce, in case u were wondering... cuz those uniforms are pretty sucky :/ )

California, Here I Come
Right back where I started from
where bowers of flowers
bloom in the sun
each morning at dawning
birdies sing at everything
a sun kissed miss said, "Don't be late!"
that's why I can hardly wait
open up that golden gate
California, Here I Come!
- [link]

Ryan pulled back the curtains of the manor slightly and peered out the window to the courtyard below his study. A black nondescript car with tinted windows had pulled into the drive. Again. The vehicle had become a common blemish on the property since the year before, and it seemed to bring a cloud of darkness each time it rolled up the drive. Per usual, two broad shouldered men in formal military attire and sunglasses stepped out of the car. No matter how hard he scrutinized them, he could never tell what the reason for their presence was.

A feeling of dread stirred inside of him, as it usually did whenever he saw the black car. It had never really been a bearer of good news, and in fact actually brought a lot of unnecessary pain. Although he knew that General Ward had good intentions, he had suspicions that the MDTA Agency was not so kind-hearted. He let go of the curtain, cutting the men striding to the door out of his sight.

He made his way down the stairs as he heard the knock on the door, but he was too late to intercept Aimee - the efficient creature she was - before she answered it. He paused at the top of the stairway.

The girl had opened the door cheerfully at first, but upon seeing who was on the other side, her attitude became suddenly wary. “…May I help you?” Her voice echoed back to him.

One of the men flipped out an ID from his coat, “Colonel Adams, MDTA.” He said evenly. He pocketed the card, “Is a Mr. Fowler on the residence?”

Ryan noticed Aimee’s shoulders stiffen, “I know who you are, you son of a –“

“That’s enough, Ms. Marx,” Ryan snapped coldly to his student as he clipped down the stairs. The teen whipped around like a German shepherd told off, wherefore she glared between the stable owner and the newcomers, before turning on her heel and disappearing into the kitchen. The screen door slammed from inside soon after.

Ryan kept a straight face as he turned back to the visitors, “Excuse me, please come inside, gentlemen. I am Ryan Fowler.” He said with detachment.

The two men stepped just inside the threshold, the other slightly behind the Colonel, who appeared to take the lead. Ryan motioned toward the sitting room as he closed the door, “Won’t you sit down?”

The soldiers kept by the door. With a deliberate and serious movement, the Colonel pulled off his sunglasses to reveal reflective brown eyes. “I’m afraid we can’t stay, Mr. Fowler.” He said in a business-like manner, “We’re only here to relay a message from General Ward; one he is extremely troubled that he is unable to deliver in person, as of which he sends his deepest apologies.”

Ryan rolled his tongue against his cheek and eyed the men carefully. After a short pause, he made his way toward the stairs, “Why don’t we discuss this in my office,”

The Colonel and his shadow sat in the chairs across from Ryan’s desk, a position he felt more comfortable in keeping them. By sitting in the seat behind the desk, he was able to sooth his frayed nerves with the illusion of having things in hand. “Now then,” He said with an elusive tone, “What is this business that brings you to AVRRA? I’m fairly certain that if the Portal had opened again, we would be well aware of it.”

The Colonel took in a deep breath, “Actually, sir, that is why we’re here; the inactivity of your portal has caused some anxiety amongst our scientists.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, “Anxiety?” He laughed, “Since when were you goons anxious about anything?”

The other man in the chair beside him looked into his lap with a shielding smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of his tanned face. “Regardless of your obvious dislike for us, Mr. Fowler, I’m sure even you’ve realized by now that this situation would be far beyond any sort of containment without the help of the MDTA.” He glanced up, his elbows resting casually on the chair’s armrests, “Your precious Riding Academy would be fragmented shambles plastered all over the media with no hope of recovery without us.”

“And who, may I ask, are you?” Ryan snapped back.

“Erm, pardon me Mr. Fowler, this is Major Bennett Reid.” Adams interrupted as Major Reid folded his fingers casually in his lap, “He’s from the MDTA’s station on the West Coast.”

Reid dipped his head with a slightly devious-looking face, his eyes hidden behind his shades, “Mr. Fowler,”

Ryan watched him carefully; he didn’t like facing off with someone whose eyes he couldn’t read. “What do you want.” He stated squarely, a question directed at Adams.

The older man let out a sigh as his mind seemed to click back to something rehearsed in his mind. “As I was saying before, our scientists are deeply troubled by the signs of inactivity apparent at the site, and likewise, their research has currently come to a halt.” He explained, “The MDTA is afraid that further work regarding sending the Temporal Refugees home will remain at a standstill indefinitely – or at least until the Portal shows some signs of activity in the near future. With that being said, the General has since been exploring sites other than the Utah Portal in which –“

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ryan interrupted suddenly with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, I just thought I heard you say something like ‘exploring other sites.’”

Adams looked down into his lap at his sunglasses in his hand as he tilted his head, “That information had previously been labeled as ‘Classified,’ but in sight of recent developments, the restriction has been cleared for lower levels of security clearance, such as you and your staff.” Carefully, he leaned forward with his elbows on Ryan’s desk. “Your Wishing Well is not the only temporal portal in the world – actually, far from it. What makes your portal – also known as the Utah Portal – unique is the fact that it is, er, was, the one of the only portals known to be currently active. However, recently, we’ve discovered another Americana portal, one that is greater in size and activity than the Utah portal ever was.”

At this point, the older officer sat up a little straighter in his chair and squared his shoulders, “Which brings me to the reason we’re here. As AVRRA and its staff are considered legal ‘guardians’ of these temporal victims – your Matthew Kent, for example – you are responsible for their wellbeing and foster care –“

“They’re not children, Colonel,” Ryan interjected with annoyance, “These are adults who can fend for themselves,”

“Not in the 21st century,” Adams seemed to growl back with a hint of warning, “And most certainly not in California, which is where you are all moving to.”

It took a few moments for the stable owner to digest what the Colonel had just said. He pursed his lips and blinked wide. “E-excuse me?”

Adams sighed, “The Pleiades Portal is located in Southern California, where we have stationed our West Coast operations.”

“Which means, in order for us to continue our research to send your little time travelling liabilities home, they must be closest to the most active portal.” Reid pitched in.

Ryan was suddenly pushing his chair back and standing straight, “N-now you two don’t understand; I can’t just abandon my stables! I-I have clients, and employees – and horses!”

“The General figured you’d say as much, so he’s taken the liberty of buying the property surrounding the portal for several miles radius and has hired a contractor to begin work on building facilities for your animals.” Adams reassured him, “They are just as important therapy-wise for keeping your temporal guests comfortable; it’s essential that the move be as seamless as possible to avoid causing them undue stress.”

Ryan ran a hand over his jaw, “They’re not skittish like horses, you know,” he muttered under his breath. He looked out the window down into the courtyard below. Splash was leaning as far over the fence as he could, sniffing at the black car. He sighed, “They’re human beings.”