"They..."

The president rose his left arm, holding it above his head like a priest might hold a host. Or an executioner might hold a knife.

"Did..."

He gripped the phone, with all his might. If it wasn't specially re-enforced, it probably would have been seriously damaged.

"WHAT?"

The president swung his arm like a baseball pitcher. He didn't throw the phone—his self-control wasn't nearly that poor—but damn, did it feel good for him to pretend.

This was a new low. Even for them. He knew, in the back of his mind, that letting her talk to Congress was a terrible idea. Diplomacy was a thing of subtlety, of significant looks and vocal inflections. It wasn't a thing of filibusters and committees and the horrible arguing. But even he didn't expect them to literally just tell her to leave, with no explanation of anything. Especially after she dropped a bombshell that big. If he hadn't been busy talking to the Russian President, he would have personally marched down to the house floor to scream at them already.

"Told her to leave, without any info being leaked."

Ok. Ok. The President took a deep breath, thinking of how fun it was going to be to write this chapter in his book while sipping a Mai Tai on the beach. Assuming there were beaches when he was writing the book, and not just sheets of nuclear glass.

"Well," The President responded, "That sounds like a fucking disaster. I need her in my office."

"Sir—"

"Now."

"Sir, it's more complicated."

No, actually, screw the book. It was time for him to resign. Definitely. He was medically unfit to do this job. Could have an aneurism at any moment.

He sighed, dreams of pulling a Nixon fading away. "How is it more complicated?"

"Kyle Marshal and Tony Acone both started spilling their guts the second she got back to the Hospital. Tony's idea. It's all on film."

Oh, sweet Jesus. Tony Acone might have actually done something right.

"What did they tell her?"

"That we could, indeed, accelerate things very close to the speed of magic, that we could make fusion reactions, and that we'd be very interested in a partnership if it could get us cold fusion. There's a SWAT team ready to arrest—"

"No, no, no," The President said, shaking his head even though the officer on the other line couldn't see him. "Listen to me. You cancel that arrest, right now, or I am going to make sure that there is a picture of you, personally, are in every history book on the fucking planet that discusses this whole mess with the caption 'biggest fuckup'. Do you understand?"

"Sir, they've committed treason–"

"They saved our ass!" The president shouted. "She was probably two seconds from leaving. Two fucking seconds. You just don't—Goddammit, you don't just tell somebody to fuck off in an negotiation! Those two guys just salvaged our chances at infinite free energy, forever. They should get a goddamn medal."

"So, don't arrest them?"

"No. But do get them on another helicopter. Right now. Just–literally– literally send the SWAT team in to tell them they need to be here, get them to the roof of the hospital, scramble a few FD-68s to be escorts, and get them here. Please. God."

"Will do."

The line went dead with a click. Shortly afterwards, the President leaned back in his chair, holding his head in his hands. This job was going to kill him.

And for today's featured image here at Paheal, we have one of the many drawings of the magic horse that appeared in New York. Twilight Sparkle—or should I say Twilight Suckle! Yes, Mr. Acone seems to be enjoying her talents. Seriously, though, we're all impressed (and a bit afraid) of how much pornography you've made of her. Really good job, internet...

>>12398019112

I really fail to see how the appearance of a magic horse effects the Dota 2 Pro scene, and I think this is basically just you shitposting at this point. Maybe we let magic horses appear at TI, ok? Call it "Team Horsie" or some shit, but really, I don't think...

Beautiful Horse of Apocalypse,

Freer of Women and Nature,

The purple robes of the universe

Clothe thee as they clothe me,

Waiting to be one again...

"And the stop story today, it appears that a helicopter has landed at Sacred Heart Hospital, again, just fifteen minutes after the last one. Reports say that the Princess and her two escorts both got on-board."

"Why do you think they got back on so soon, Jill?"

"Maybe they forgot something, Todd."

"Yeah. Maybe she left her purse there, or something."

"Oh, Jill. In all seriousness, I bet that it was Congress that forgot something. Or a decoy pony, to throw us off the trail of where she is."

"What, just a lifesized plastic doll?"

"Possibly. I doubt she even returned to the hospital in the first place. It doesn't make sense for her to..."

"Work on the SA is still going fast. Not that anybody cares at this point. You saw them at the water cooler, everybody was talking about the goddamn horse. I mean, I get why, but seriously nobody even gives a shit that we have prototype..."

"No, I think... I think we need to make the beat a bit more, I dunno, regular, y'know? Like hoof stomps. But I am trying to capture the, y'know, the whole song's about the fear and excitement I'm feelin', so it can't be too regular, but I do want it to be sorta like a gallop. Y'know, that kinda thing."

Author's Note

Told ya I was working on a thing.