An Interdimensional Adventure of Astronomical Calculations

Reagan leaned back, staring at the large and rather imposing metal door in front of him. A large cuban cigar held tight in his mouth, the smoke curling up slowly, drifting throughout the enclosed room. A secret service agent standing on either side of the great man, his form framed by the dark brown leather chair he was seated in. The figures on either side of the president remained standing, not moving in their crisp suits, keeping their attention focused on an imaginary point off in the distant as their charge held himself deep in thought upon various subjects.

A small collection of files was present in Ronald's lap, held together by paperclips, staples, and a manila folder. The words "TOP SECRET: FOR AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" stamped in a dark red across nearly every sheet contained within the detailed file. The man idly flipped through the various notifications and briefings, his mind elsewhere as smoke blew out his nose. Glancing once again up at the door, sighing, leaning back into a stretch as he carefully weighed his options.

With a sigh Reagan stretched his arms out before him, cocking his wrists as he flicked the sleeves of his expertly tailored jacket back. Standing up, bringing his cigar down to his side. Breathing in contemplatively as he tapped the cigar lightly with a finger, the ashes falling off the end. Taking a moment to extinguish it in a nearby ash tray, Reagan closed his eyes for just a moment before stepping intently forward reaching out to open the metal door. Pausing again, turning to look back at the two agents, his voice firm, commanding, demanding, "Bring it. Now. We don't have any time to waste." One of the agents nodding as he scurried off to fetch some item for the Commander in Chief.

Turning back again to the door, Reagan stepped through, looking around the dark, barely lit room, a light grimace on his face as he peered through the yellowish interior. The only things present in the room were two hard wooden chairs, bolted in an odd fashion to the floor, and a single table, it's strong yet slim metal legs seeming to extend down into the cement underneath the Presidents feet. It's cool slightly shining surface holding a single circular object, wooden, small holes created in the shape of a star pressed into it's surface. In short: A Chinese Checkers board.

Arching his back lightly, the president adjusted his tie, bringing his hands to the side, slowly starting to slide his suit off, the dark black material smoothly falling off of his broad shoulders, revealing an crisp, sharp, and blindly white tailored shirt. The smooth fabric almost shining in the darkened room as Reagan laid his jacked upon the chair in front of him. With a critical look down at the table the President tilted his chiseled jaw upwards, grimacing again before loosening his tie, his strong hands moved up to his neck. The presidents fingers deftly unbuttoning each individual button. His hairy and chiseled chest slowly revealed as the door behind him creaked slowly open. One of the agents quickly running in, looking down at the ground almost submissively as placing a large bottle of baby oil on the table in front of the president.

With a timid, "Here you are sir." the agent slowly backed away, keeping his eyes targeted at the ground before stepping out of the dimly lit room. The metal door swinging shut with an ominous clang, leaving the president by himself. Solitary, stoic, an image of calculated handsome, the President sat in one of the chairs, the well built man brought his fingers to his temples, slowly massaging, obviously preparing for the approaching storm.

Steeling himself, the elected leader of the United States threw off his shirt, the thin white fabric floating slowly to the ground, left in his dark black slacks, staring at the other door, a slight smirk coming to his face, stretching his arms out, intertwining his fingers, cracking his knuckles before sitting back down before the table. A twinkle in his eyes as he says softly to himself, "All change in America begins at the dinner table…. Chinese checkers in this case…"

With a smile to himself the President opened bottle of baby oil, closing his eyes ever so slightly before bringing the bottle up above him, letting a thin line dribble down onto his hairy, masculine, and muscular chest, reaching up with his second hand to slowly rub the smooth liquid across his body. Up, across his pecs, a light little masculine gasp of excitement fluttering out of his lips as he lets a finger travel slowly over a nipple. One eye widening a bit before Ronald Reagan brought his now smooth and shining hand slowly travel down his chest, over his stomach. His black spirited hair covering his chest, like a thick rug of manliness, a testament to democracy and freedom.

The presidents sprightly fingers slip, slide, slowly, slightly scouring the surface of his skin, the baby oil covering his body in a shiny sheen of excellence. His abs, chiseled under a thin protective layer of fat, giving the great man the image of a powerlifter. Giving a squirt to the bottle, Reagan caused a splash of fluid to pour out onto his lower stomach. Eyeing the door with a mischievous smile, the president slowly massaged the oil down against his happy trial, that slightly thinner pathway to the hidden surprise, his very own Washington Monument.

Giving an especially rigorous squeeze, Ronald splashes a huge amount of the liquid onto his shining chest, placing the half used bottle down next to the checkerboard, pausing for a moment before slowly sliding his hands down along his biceps, the strong muscles flexing in the shining oil before moving down to his forearms, painting the president in a rather stunning figure. His black slacks a shocking contrast to the bronzed shining and muscled figure of his upper body. Stretching his arms out in a silent display of dominance, he flexed, his biceps glimmering in the dim light, taking on the appearance of a greek god.

Chuckling to himself the president leaned back on the bar stool. Hooking his feet against the legs of the table, he gave a lusty grin to the metal door opposing him, eyeing it as he slowly rubbed a finger in a circle around his shining nipple, a noticeable bulge pressing up against his black slacks.

_______________________

Quite possibly one of the worst feelings in the world is waking up. While it is true one may have a good morning, or feel rested after a short nap. Being forced from that sweet comforting comatose state of sleep is one that all those who haven't been lobotomized by God dread. In fact, there are few thoughts that rival the hideousness of the simple phrase, "Fuck, I'm awake."

On a side note however, thoughts that could perchance rival such a thought are "Well at least my blood won't stain noticeably on this red shirt," "Oh that's nice, I could use a long hot shower after that cramped train ride," and the realization that the labels have fallen off your containers of nutella and vegemite and that you must now play a deadly game of toast roulette.

Twilight awoke thinking none of these things. After having been knocked rather unconscious by whatever magical spell she had casted from that little devil of a book she awoke to a rather curious scene. That of having absolutely no idea where in Equestria she was.

With a rather loud groan the purple mare stood up, casting a glance around the room, what in fact seemed to be a large metal container, the cast iron walls dimly lit by a solitary bulb hanging a meter or two above her head. The object that caught her eye was the large, and very imposing metal door planted firmly in front of her, almost challenging her to a silent and rather secret duel that neither knew the rules for.

Shaking herself slightly the purple mare mentally checked her body over for any signs of harm, other than a few slight bruises she seemed to be alright. With that sudden realization the young mare felt her fur stand on end, just as if someone were watching her. Spinning around in surprise, the unicorn came face to face with too decently sized stallions. Their imposing figures towering over her, fur dyed pitch black, a large hammer and sickle painted on their plots, replacing whatever cutie marks they may have had before hand. As the mare stood stunned silently sorting through several thoughts, none of which aligned with the events that occurred next.

The two stallions brought their hooves up to a quick, snappy, and obviously heavily drilled salute. Speaking in loud tones, their voices heavy with a russian accent.

"COMRADE SPARKLE, IT IS OF A PLEASING TO US THAT YOU HAVE AWOKEN!" they said in unison, their deep voices resonating through the room as the purple pony winced at the sheer volume of their announcement. Taking a step back she stared at the two ponies unsure how to respond to such an enthusiastic greeting. Either her reaction alerting them to their own volume or only their introductions were shouted with such gusto as their voices quieted to a somewhat more tolerable level of talking rather loudly.

"It is of greatest importance that you are to be prepared for the negotiations." One said. Staring at him Twilight responded with, "What negotiations? Where am I what-" only to be cut off by the second, "It is of the standard negotiation procedure. The initial staging is of course carried out by you! As our best operative, you must defeat their greatest player, the President of the name Reagan in only the most glorious of battles."

"A… Battle?" The purple unicorn stared at the two large figures, taking a step backwards, "B-but I don't know how to fight! I'm a scholar! I make books! Not war…"

The two stallions shared a momentary glance at each other before letting out a roaring howl of laughter, pausing to grin widely at each other before breaking again into an uproarious cackling howl. The poor mare simply stood, dumbfounded as she gazed at the two strange figures.

"The joking of you is most excellent." The two stallions shouted, in an odd near unison. An odd grin lighting upon their mouths in creepy unison as they took a step towards her. "It was not of to our knowledge that the great purple one was of the joking type, no?" the first said.

"We are of being pleasure that you find time to joke! Yet now we must move to work! First we show usual party diplomacy reminder!" The second responded with, not giving the poor unicorn even a chance to get a word in edgewise.

As Twilight stood in a shocked silence and confusion, the two stallions quickly set to work, one moving quickly to a table Twilight hadn't noticed earlier in the room, beginning to mix together some stew of various chemicals and herbs. The other reaching up with his teeth to pull down a white projector screen. Ears lowered, Twilight almost jumped as the room dimmed, still trying to piece everything together as a movie began to roll onto the screen before her.

A nationalistic band starred playing as a grainy image flicked onto the screen, a stout and handsome looking stallion, the hammer and sickle painted on his flank standing out on his black coat as he flashed a sparkling white and very communistic smile to the camera. "It is of very many hello's that I greet to you great party comrade!" He enthusiastically said, voice smooth, trustworthy, and most definitely not bourgeoisie.

Walking to the left, the camera panned to follow the stallion, a warm and hearty smile sailing across his muzzle as a group of youths run past him. One pauses to salute the older stallion, giving a hearty chuckle the elder ruffles the mane of the small child before turning back to the camera.

"As you are of being in the state of awareness, Diplomacy is of the most greatest importance to the benefit and health of the state. Here in great Union of Socialist States we have worked with the capitalist pigs to develop a form of Diplomacy that will not end in the causing of use of great and powerful nuclear weapons."

The stallion on the screen paused, turning to look at the horizon, a column of soldiers marching past as fireworks exploded in the air, a crowd of smiling mares and cheering fillies and colts following the parade as a man on one float smiled and waved to the following ponies.

"Hahaha!" the forced laugh seeming very awkward as the stallion looked back to the camera, "Such is the life of our great and all-knowing leader, making sure that all are being of happy."

"Anyways, continuing with discussion. As a diplomacy member person Comrade, you must attempt to ensure that we are put into a great position of diplomatic meaning upon conclusion of the game. As you have been in the briefing of such states before we will skip the game telling. It is with the wishes of our great leader and the whole of our great socialist union of nations that I wish you of the greatest luck diplomacy comrade!"

With a smile, wink, and a salute the video suddenly ended. The lights in the room flashing back on, the projector screen flashing with a clatter back to the ceiling. Twilight simply sat, her rear on the cold hard floor as she looked around her in utter confusion. In all of her years as a student under Princess Celestia she had never been put in a situation even remotely close to this. Not only did she have no idea what to do, but she was at a loss for what might even be going on.

It was because of this that she did not initially notice the large needle being plunged into the side of her plot by one of the two stallions, with a loud declaration of, "It is of success!" a strange liquid was injected into the mare.

Eeping in both shock and surprise, Twilight opened her mouth to yell at the pony when the metal door in front of her suddenly swung open with a cacophonic clang. As she stood up, taking a few steps back as she squinted trying to discern what might be hidden in the darkened room a pair of hooves met her rear as the second stallion promptly bucked her.

Shouting out again in surprise Twilight stumbled, tumbling into the room, tripping over her own hooves as the metal door clanged shut behind her. Shakily getting to her hooves the young mare looked around, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light. Mouth opening in shock as she was greeted by the strangest sight she had seen since the whipped cream fiasco between Rarity and a group of Diamond Dogs.

A bipedal creature, seemingly male by his… figure, almost apelike in his make up, a grin on his face with an oil covering his rather muscled body. Twilight stood, staring in a strange combination of awe, shock, and terror as the creature extended a hand to the purple mare, his voice deep, comforting, and oh so very masculine.

"Why hello there purple mare. The descriptions don't quite do me justice do they?" Reagan grinned, flexing as he winked at the mare. "Please take a seat, I'd love to chat but I both know we're busy individuals… we should get the diplomacy game out of the way as soon as possible. The names Reagan by the way… Ronald Reagan…"