"Condemn me, it does not matter; history will absolve me." - Fidel Castro
El Presidente stared at the horses. The horses stared at him. He looked at his M-16. They looked at his M-16. He brought the awkward silence to an end with his wise words:
"Are you a rebel?"
The white unicorn spoke in a confused, male voice, "Uh, hello?"
It was El Presidente's turn to be confused. "I am the glorious leader of Tropico, how may I be of service?" He bowed. He doubted that even with his wit, charm and his fists, dulzura and libertad, that he could take on an entire universe full of capitalist alien pig bastards.
The larger horse, this one with both wings and a horn and a pastel mane, pushed the unicorn aside and spoke, "I need a new adviser. As my old one got kind of, uh, caught up with interstellar travel."
Presidente didn't hesitate. With a smile on his face, the Tropican leader came up with a response that would make an ordinary man wonder how he could cope with not being so charismatic, "It would be my pleasure to help you manage your nation, miss..?" Presidente continued.
"Just call me Celestia," She spoke, causing El Presidente to wonder yet again if this was real or if Penultimo had spiked his water with 'happy powder'. But, he still had something to deal with here, so he played along.
"So, Celestia," Presidente said openly, not fearing anything she could do to him, "What exactly do you need me to do?"
She stopped for a second, before smiling, "Well, I'll get my quill. I want to know everything about you!"
El Presidente simply smiled awkwardly, attempting to back up but stopped upon backing into a wall. Seemingly out of options, he spoke, "Sounds good to me. Where should I begin?"
The Marine pulled himself out of the soot that he rested in. He gulped, realizing now that it wasn't a good idea to try to turn on the device that he had just found in the building. Instinctively, he checked his rifle. All twenty rounds were in the clip, plus one in the chamber. His M1911 pistol was also at one hundred percent, albeit having already emptied a magazine.
A high pitched snarl put the man's hair follicles to stand up. Something else was out here. He wasn't afraid of much- but he didn't like not knowing. Or being alone. He didn't like the notion that most likely no one would ever find him. He knew what he was capable of- he couldn't take on a whole world. Hell, the solider even missed Vietnam.
Presidente smiled. His new office was almost as nice as his old palace's office. Not quite as warm, or as tropical. But he didn't have to deal with everyone constantly asking of him, and that was worth the sacrifice of the weather. He was worlds away from his many enemies now, and the annoying sheep that called themselves 'advisors' and 'faction leaders'.
Still, something was amiss. He missed his many beautiful mistresses, and the country being his. Still, this was obviously a super power, with a palace that dwarfed his own. With a sigh he remembered the fate of his own palace. It didn't matter now- there was no way anyone from his past could ever come back to his life now, in this new land.
But, he'd only been here two hours, and he loved every minute spent here. He decided he should frame his M-16 on the wall, as it wasn't likely he would need to make use of it in the foreseeable future. He had a whole list of interior design plans for his new office, and sleeping quarters as well. However, something was off in the air around him- he could sense that. It was quivering with danger, like earlier that day when his nation was attacked.
Had it really been just this morning? It felt more like three months. He decided that he might as well figure out what his job even did. He doubted he could just get away with being Penultimo. He stepped out of his office and started walking down the hallway.
Finally, he reached a receptionist's desk and asked her what he was needed to do, if anything. The mare abruptly informed him that Celestia wanted to speak to him personally, and that she wanted the receptionist to get him soon.
The former Tropican ruler left for the Princess's quarters, which were up in one of the towers. He still couldn't believe the size of this building. It was far larger than anything he had seen before in his life, so naturally, he didn't know where the quarters actually were. So, he decided that he should ask one of the lower ranking ponies to show him the way.
He walked into Princess Celestia's chambers to find her waiting for him, an impatient expression plastered on her face. El Presidente wasn't sure how to act, especially with the two guards taking up positions by the door.
"Greetings, Princess," He decided now was not a good time to be condescending.
She smiled back at him before speaking, “We seem to have a bit of a problem. The ponies that run the market seem to want better wages, and they won’t work until they get what they want.”
He chuckled with experience, he knew how to handle this. “Mam, I have plenty of experience when it comes to dealing with this kind of thing,” he said as he removed his Colt handgun from his holster and racked the slide.
The alicorn mare gave a look of perplexion at the sight of the semiautomatic before speaking, “What is that anyway?”
The brave hero of Tropico looked towards the princess and grinned wickedly, “Motivation.”
The Benevolent Ruler of Tropico, the best nation on the Earth, walked down the street, flanked by two Equestrian Royal Guards. They weren’t his guards, sure, he missed that much, but it didn’t matter much to him anymore. He had to deal with it and get these ponies to stop striking.
Sure, he’d dealt with strikes before. And he had learned that they typically wouldn’t stop if you just gave them what they wanted, after all as the saying goes, “If you give a mouse a cookie...”. Which reminded him he wanted a cookie himself. He decided that he would get one later.
Ponies stared at him as he walked past, many grumbling statements under their breaths. To this, he simply smiled his trademark smile, waved at them and continued on his way. Every single pony stared at him, unlike back at home when they would all salute him. NO! The president thought, They are simply jealous of me! That is it!
Content with his new thoughts, he reached the strikers finally. They stopped holding their signs with their magic when the intimidating man in the green suit walked up, pistol being removed from its holster and held firmly in his right hand. He randomly walked up to one of the unicorns and pointed the pistol at a watermelon only four inches in front of the stallion’s head.
He pulled the trigger, sending massive amounts of melon gore everywhere. The red and juicy flesh splattered all over the stand, and those near it. El Presidente’s aviators were now covered in the very juicy remains of the melon.
He moved his sleeve to his glasses, wiped the melon off and said, “Back to work,” very simply before walking off with the white pegasus stallions of the royal guard. He had made his point clear. They knew they didn’t want to mess with El Presidente.