Nightmare Moon and I were within striking distance of the President of the United States. We just had to follow the plan we had made, and we would win it all.
We were woken up out of a deep sleep by a voice shouting something and a loud banging on the door. My magic drained away the last vestiges of sleep, and I recognized the voice as the 'Hitman' Agent from the night before. I looked at Nightmare Moon, who nodded once. She then grabbed her armor and jumped into my shadow. I got out of bed, put on both my human illusion and my robe, then ran to the door and threw back the security latch. The door slammed open and I suddenly found a gun pointed right between my eyes.
After a few tense seconds, the gun lowered to reveal the face of a very angry 'Hitman' Agent. He swept past me and quickly searched the room. After he was satisfied that the room was empty, he stormed over to me and got right in my face.
"Why was the security latch thrown?"
"I-I-I always throw the latch when I'm in a hotel room!"
"How am I supposed to protect you if you lock me out?!"
"I don't know, I've never been guarded before! Besides, I thought you were there to keep me from getting out?"
"I do both!"
"Okay, okay! I wasn't thinking, geez."
The agent (who was still dressed like Hitman) calmed down after that. He opened the door and picked something off of the floor, then handed it to me. It turned out to be my suit, folded and wrapped in a plastic bag that had a dry cleaner's logo on it.
"Get dressed. As soon as you're ready, we're leaving to see the President."
Oh shit, it's time.
I closed the door and quickly got dressed. A quick glance in the mirror and a final adjustment to my tie, and I was ready. I opened the door to see the back of the agent, who moved out of the way to let me leave the room. He ushered me to the room one door down, then knocked on the door. A few moments later, the door opened to reveal Mr. Nicholes.
"Finally awake? Excellent. Let us go."
We waited a few minutes in the elevator lobby on that floor, before an elevator finally arrived. Down to the lobby and out the front door, and we walked outside into the bright morning sun. The temperature that morning felt like it was somewhere in the mid-60's; nice and crisp, and much warmer than the night before. From what I remember reading on the plane flight last night, this was uncommonly warm weather for this time of year but not unheard of. Mr. Nicholes took a look at his wristwatch while we waited for the limo to arrive.
"It's 9:10 now. If the limo arrives promptly we should be in to see the President by 10."
A few minutes later, a black limo pulled up to the curb. It looked like the limo from last night, but I couldn't tell if it was the same or a different one. Mr. Nicholes and the 'Hitman' Agent walked towards it, so I presumed it was ours. The agent opened the rear door of the limo for us, then got into the passenger seat next to the driver. The limo then left the curb, and within seconds we were passing by the White House. The limo turned left just past the main gates, and stopped in front of a guard shack. We paused while the guard checked the driver's credentials, then we slowly drove forward.
As I looked out of the limo's windows, I could see the telltale signs of a parking lot; lines painted at an angle on the pavement, and cars parked between the lines. The limo slowly drove down the single parking lane for about a minute, until the White House came into view on our left. We stopped in front of a set of double doors. The 'Hitman' Agent got out of the limo, walked around the front of the vehicle and opened the door on the left side for us. Mr. Nicholes got out first this time, and I followed. The three of us began to walk towards the double doors in front of us; Mr. Nicholes first, with me just behind and off to his right. The 'Hitman' Agent was directly behind us.
The double doors opened up, and a man exited the building. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a bright blue tie, and wore mirrored sunglasses on his face. This man had dark hair, though it was cropped short in a common military style. For this reason, I presumed he was another Secret Service Agent. The agent was wearing a white badge on the outside pocket of his suit, and was carrying a handheld scanner with a small blue nylon bag on his hip. This new agent stopped a few steps in front of us, and we of course stopped in front of him. When the man spoke, it was in a very clipped fashion.
"Agent?"
The 'Hitman' walked around us, and presented the new agent with an ID. The new agent inspected it and swiped it through the scanner. Two seconds passed before the scanner made a pleasant beep. The new agent returned the ID to the 'Hitman', then retrieved a white badge from the nylon bag. The badge had some kind of hologram on it, which reflected in the morning light. The new agent clipped this badge on to the 'Hitman', who then stepped back behind us. Next, Mr. Nicholes presented his ID. The agent swiped the ID through his scanner, and two seconds later it gave a pleasant beep. The agent returned the ID to Mr. Nicholes, then retrieved a blue badge from his bag. This badge also had a hologram printed on it, and had a picture of Mr. Nicholes on it. The agent clipped the badge on to Mr. Nicholes, then turned to me and spoke three words.
"Pat him down."
I suddenly felt two big and strong hands slap my shoulders, then unceremoniously patted every part of my body from shoulders to waistline. I had seen this kind of 'pat-down' on TV, but I didn't realize how violated I would feel the whole time. The unknown assailant pushed my feet apart, then patted down each of my legs in turn. After fishing a finger around in my shoes, I heard a familiar voice.
"Clear."
I glanced behind me to confirm what I had heard. My assailant was none other than the 'Hitman' who had guarded me last night. The new agent cleared his throat to get my attention, then spoke a single word.
"ID."
I fished out Mr. Burke's driver's license from his wallet, and presented it to the agent. He scanned it, and two seconds later his machine beeped. He handed my ID back to me, and pulled out an orange badge. This one did not have a hologram on it, and simply had a large "V" printed on the front with a bar code at the bottom. The agent scanned the barcode with his scanner, which beeped pleasantly once it recognized the bar code. He then clipped the visitor badge on to my suit coat.
"Welcome to the White House."
The agent then turned and walked back inside the building without another word.
Mr. Nicholes resumed walking towards the double doors in front of us, then turned his head slightly to talk to me.
"Stick close to me, I do NOT want you getting lost. We have a standing appointment..."
He paused once we reached the double doors, and Mr. Nicholes pulled one door open then walked through. I caught the door and walked inside, then held the door open so the 'Hitman' could grab it. The agent nodded once to acknowledge my kindness, and I turned to catch up to Mr. Nicholes who was walking through the Ground Floor Lobby. I couldn't help but notice that the ceiling was a bit lower than I was used to; I was concerned that I might hit my head on something. Mr. Nicholes started lecturing me as soon as I caught up to him.
"As I was saying, we have a standing appointment with the President. As soon as we check in with his secretary, she will fit us into his schedule as soon as possible."
While Mr. Nicholes talked, we kept walking down the length of the Lobby and ignored anyone we passed. The lobby turned into a hallway, and we passed through a set of double doors at the end. I ducked under the door frame just to make sure I didn't hit my head. Once through, we took an immediate left and made our way to a staircase heading to the floor above. Just as we passed a doorway near the staircase, I heard the door open behind us. I turned to see the 'Hitman' walk through the open doorway and disappear inside.
Up the stairs we went. At the top of the stairs was an unmarked wooden door on our right. Mr. Nicholes turned left and began to walk back the way we came, but now on the first floor. We passed a closed door on our right, then one on our left before he opened a second door on our left. We walked down a short hallway before opening another door at the end, and we walked into an office. In front of us was a desk covered in papers and a single computer monitor, though no one was sitting behind it. To our right was another desk that looked much the same, but it had a woman sitting behind it. From our position at the door, we could see that the woman had long brown hair and was wearing a white short-sleeved blouse. She looked up as we entered, and gave us a warm smile.
"Mr. Nicholes and guest, welcome to the Oval Office. May I scan your badges?"
"Of course."
The two of us approached her desk, and she used a handheld scanner to scan the barcodes on each of our badges. After each scan, her computer made a pleasant beep.
"Thank you Mr. Nicholes, and...Mr. Burke. The President should be ready for you in a few minutes."
We ended up waiting about twenty minutes before the door to the Oval Office opened, and two men in business suits exited the room. Both were white, but one looked old and wrinkled while the other was younger. I guessed that the older man was a congressman and the younger one was his aide. As the two men passed us, I heard my fake name called out by a voice I had heard many times on TV.
"Mr. Nicholes, Mr. Burke! Please come in."
The two of us walked through the open doorway, and into the Oval Office. I had read a lot about this room, and had seen it in pictures, but nothing prepared me for the sheer enormity of walking into the Oval Office. Just to my left was a grandfather clock standing against the wall. Directly in front of me was the iconic dual couches, currently light brown with pillows in blue and brown. A dark brown coffee table stood between the couches. To my right were two dark brown end tables, each with lamps resting on top of them. Also to my right were two chairs, upholstered in a medium brown fabric. The chairs sat between the two end tables, and faced the coffee table. The famous Oval Office rug was a light tan, almost a cream color, and the striped wood flooring was visible between the rug and the walls. I could not see the iconic Presidential seal on the carpet from where I stood, but I was sure I would as soon as I walked farther into the room. To my left, on the far side of the room sat the President's desk. If I remembered correctly, this was the famous 'Resolute' desk - made from wood from the HMS Resolute and given to the President back in the 1800's. The current President of the United States was about halfway from his desk to the door, and was walking towards us with his hand outstretched.
"Welcome, welcome!"
The President shook the hand of Mr. Nicholes, then shook mine. I knew I was there to mind-control this man, but I couldn't help but be in awe of him.
While I was simply staring at the President, Mr. Nicholes addressed him directly.
"Thank you for the private meeting, Mr. President."
"You're welcome. I wanted to hear this news first, before the rumor mill started. And you must be the person that Mr. Nicholes has told me about. I hope you can shed some light on whatever is going on in Southern California."
"I will do my best, sir."
"Excellent, excellent. Now, let's take a seat and have a chat."
The President strode around the couch to my right and walked past the coffee table. As I turned to watch him, he took a seat in the medium brown chair on the left. Mr. Nicholes sat on the couch on my left and took the seat next to the President. I sat in the middle seat on the couch, next to Mr. Nicholes. The President broke the ice first, and spoke directly to Mr. Nicholes.
"So, how was your flight?"
"It was a pleasant flight, both ways. Though it is a long flight."
"I see, I see. Flying cross-country is a bit of a trip. And you?"
The President indicted to me.
"The flight was fine, Mister President. Though I think I'm a bit jet-lagged."
"I can see that, with California being three hours behind us. This must be pretty early in the morning for you."
"Yes, sir."
"Is that all that's bothering you?"
"Well, not really Mister President. I'm quite nervous."
The President smiled warmly, then leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.
"Now, now. I know people tend to get star-struck around me sometimes, but there's no reason to be nervous."
"Maybe...but that's not the only reason. I'm really afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting in trouble."
The President sat up straight in his chair.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I mean, the SoCal mess makes sense to me, but I'm afraid I'll explain it wrong and I'll get in trouble for it."
The President smiled warmly at me again.
"Is that all? Well, I never shoot the messenger my good boy. Now, let's get down to it and just tell me what's been going on."
"Alright, sir. Well, you know how the story has been about the marines helping to film a movie?"
"Yes, that's what everyone tells me. But it doesn't add up."
"Yes, sir. That's because it was a cover story for what's really been going on."
"I knew something was up. What was the real reason?"
"We had credible rumors that there was a foreign plot against the United States, sir. And possibly aimed directly at you, sir."
Both the President and Mr. Nicholes looked shocked, eyes wide and stared at me. Mr. Nicholes was probably shocked because it sounded like I was revealing the actual plot against the President, instead of a pretend one. I knew it was best to keep a lie as close to the truth as possible, as it makes the lie more believable.
The President addressed me directly.
"Why wasn't this plot brought to me in the first place?"
"Well, at first it was only rumors. Nothing substantial, just the usual crackpots screaming at the world. But the rumors kept coming in, and we thought we saw a pattern. We didn't want to accidentally cry wolf over nothing, so we started investigating on our own. The cover story was to keep the public calm, but if the rumors were true we were hoping to panic the spies and force them to make some mistakes."
"I see. And do you have any credible proof of this plot, Mr. Burke?"
"I do, Mister President."
I felt my shadow twitch, just a bit. I guessed that Nightmare Moon was getting antsy, having to wait and watch and do nothing. Last night in bed, she and I had agreed that she would remain in my shadow until I had pushed the President's curiosity or paranoia as high as I could. Then I would say a specific word: 'pancakes'. I thought that the unusual word would catch the President off-guard just enough to give us a bit of an edge. We also hoped that the President's unusual state of mind would help to enslave him faster.
It sounded like a good idea at the time, anyway.
The President thought about my words for a moment, then came to a decision.
"Before you start Mr. Burke, let me bring in my outside consultant."
"An 'outside consultant', Mister President?"
The President got up and went to the door that we had entered from, and shouted out to his secretary.
"Bring her in, please."
Her?
I turned to Mr. Nicholes, while the President returned to his chair next to us.
"An 'outside consultant'?"
He looked as surprised as I was.
"I have no idea."
I turned back to the President of the United States.
"I'm sure I can be of great use to you, Mister President. If you'll let me privately present my evidence--"
The President held up a hand to stop me.
"Just a moment. I want my consultant to hear this information as well."
I heard a door open behind me, followed by the unmistakable sound of high heels on carpet.
"Ah, here she is."
I turned around on the couch to look at this 'outside consultant', and immediately realized that I did not hear high heels on tile.
I heard metal horseshoes.
Golden horseshoes that belonged to a white alicorn with rainbow-colored hair that waved back and forth in an unseen wind.
Oh look, it's Princess Celestia.
FUCK!!!!