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Chapter Text

It was a typical Tuesday night for Elon as he parsed through tweet after tweet, looking at charts of birthrates in Europe with a terrified expression. “1.35 births per woman in Germany, 1.2 in Italy, 1.1 in Poland” he read aloud for what seemed like the thousandth time this week. “My God, this is worse than last year’s numbers, at this rate Europe will die within my lifetime”. He frantically typed out ancient sumerian symbols on his phone. It let out a ring, then another, and one more, until finally, on the other line, a lispy canadian voice answered :

“Hello? Elon?”

“Claire. You have to come to Texas, leave X Æ A-Xii , Exa Dark Sideræl and Techno Mechanicus with a nanny, this is urgent.”

“ I thold you Im noth intheresthed in being a baby vesthel for you anymore, I’m trying to liberathe Quebec”

“Forget Quebec. Ukraine’s birth rate is at 0.9, Claire. Don’t you understand what that means?”

“Well, maybe if they had fought it over in Fortnight, like I thold them to, their populations would have grown a bit more, buth nobody wants to lithen to ‘cooky old Grimes’, so gueth what, I’m noth going to try and fix this for you anymore, I’ve been ridiculed enough, call one of your other baby mamaths!”

“Claire, come on. You’re being irrational”

“Don’th call this number again or ill extend the restraining order!”

It had been a rude wake up call for Elon: women no longer wanted to reproduce. This would have been fine if it concerned the lesser races- the blacks, the a-rabs, the polynesians, the mexicans, the british…after all, what good had they ever contributed to the world? But this concerned Europe-the vanguard of science, art, philosophy, and other things he pretended to care about. Elon couldn’t let this once-great-continent die out due to a lack of willpower of these stupid women! With their stupid feminism! Their stupid college degrees and their stupid careers! 

He figured men could no longer be at the mercy of the ridiculous standards set by modern women. They were the gatekeepers of sex by nature after all and therefore had too big of a say in who they let into their uterus. Put yourself in the sorry shoes of an average male of the 21st century, that poor soul was actually expected to listen to the constant cacophony of yap about this or that mindless celebrity his girlfriend was obsessed with at any given moment. He had to be caring like some sort of a gay, and no shorter than 6’2ft.

Enough was enough. Since women had clearly lost their minds and had abandoned their sacred duty of motherhood, there was only one solution left to save Europa: MPreg.

Chapter Text

“Wow, such a fantastic ballroom. This whole place has come together in such a fantastic way Alejandro”

“Thank you Mr. Trump”

“No I mean really, the 24 karat gold fountain really brings it all together. Good job Alejandro, you and your team have really outdone yourselves, and I really do mean it. Your ancestors who built those pyramids - the Inca people, very bright people, few give them as much credit as I do- even they would be jealous of what you accomplished here today, believe me it's quite impressive”

Trump looked around his newly finished ballroom with widened eyes, it was everything he had hoped for and more- as though Versailles had gotten a makeover by a turkmen dictator. The chandeliers dripping with crystals dyed in gold, the marble columns, also dyed in gold, grand persian carpets made with golden threads alone, the indoor aquarium containing exclusively fish with golden scales, all dyed of course, it was a sight for the ages. This elevated color palette was only broken by the Italian bordello-style velvet cushions on the chairs. Trump stood proud, taking it all in, he was the only person in the room not wearing sunglasses, since he was determined to soak up all the blinding beauty of the interior. Sadly all good things must come to an end. 

Trump’s phone started ringing, violently snapping him out of nirvana. He immediately recognized the number. It was Elon. “Oh God” he thought “I will not let this African immigrant ruin my day, he has the gall to call my number after he publicly said I was a pedophile, he must be out of his mind”

On the other end of the line, Elon was desperate for an answer. He wanted someone, anyone, to hear his pleas. His great plan to revive European civilization needed even greater funding and yet… nobody wished to be involved with him. Was it really over for the white race? “Is this how it all ends?” the question was plaguing his mind “Not with a Bang, but a whimper?”

“Everywhere I ask for help, I get slurred as a bigot, a racist, a eugenicist, a nazi, never a visionary… and the one man I hoped I could rely on doesn't even answer his phone no matter how much I apologize to him. How can I get funding for MPreg development if I can’t get hold of government grants and subsidies?” The richest man on earth pondered for a while. And then, it hit him like a truck.

Elon flew all the way to Israel to explain his situation to Netanyahu. Elon had already been secretly overworking his best SpaceX engineers, chemists and any scientist he could intimidate for over a year now. All of this was of course being carried out against Department of Labor regulations or general decency and had paid off in a major way! All that Elon needed now was funding, without which the Mpreg gas his worker-captives developed would remain theoretical. Amidst a sea of rejection, Netanyahu would come in to save the day.

The prime minister was all too happy to ask for money from Trump without revealing it would secretly go to Elon instead of the usual violations of international law.  And just like that, in only a matter of days, Elon had received 15 billion US dollars under the guise of a Foreign Military Financing grant. He would be able to use 25% on the development of MPreg gas. Netanyahu had a say in the matters as well, since he was able to finance the project and it would be done on his soil, more specifically, under his soil, in a secret research facility that doubled down as a bunker. With Elon’s engineer-slaves and Netanyahu’s equipment, no challenge was big enough to overcome. 

The only ask Netanyahu had was the development of a gas with reverse effects, one that would render women completely infertile. At first Elon was concerned, he wanted birthrates to increase, but Bibi specified he would only use it on the surrounding nations, the infertility gas would not concern the blonde dolls of Sweden, Germany, Switzerland or its likes. Even the Moorish Italians and Greeks with beak noses would be spared. According to Bibi, they were the cradles of European civilization and generously afforded them a rank below the Germanic people. 

The Infertility gas, he specified, would reach the Palestinian territories or Hamas territories as he liked to call it, as well as Jordan - a country where more than half the population has palestinian heritage and therefore are more terrorist than man, it would also include Lebanon - a breeding ground for Hezbollah, he did not waste his breath explaining why they were terrorists as well; Egypt would also be hit as payback for slavery from 3000 years ago. 

“These people breed like rats and it’s all in hopes of raising child soldiers, the reason we know is because we’ve had IDF members with PTSD from fighting these very child soldiers. It's purely done to weaken us emotionally, but if we get rid of the kids, there won’t be a need to kill them and then maybe our soldiers can rest from the torment”

“Very well said, I can’t believe you have to live next to such monsters. I grew up in South Africa, so I can only partially relate, but nothing even close to this level”

Shortly after Elon was done complimenting the leader of the most moral army the world has ever seen, he was asked to step into a dark room, where he was told he would finalize some signatures. Alas, when he walked in, he wasn't greeted with paperwork, instead there stood two very large men, with various tools at their disposal. 

“Uuh am I interrupting some sort of party?” He tried making light of the situation. Nobody found him amusing.

“Elon, this is the final step before we can work on this mission. You must strip. The cameras are there” Bibi pointed to the upper right corner of the room “and there” pointing to the left side of the room “if you find some angles unflattering let us know” 

“Is this some kind of a joke, i don’t understand”

“We do not joke about such matters, we must collect compromising evidence for security’s sake”

Elon was speechless, he found the situation to be “not very dank” to use the exact words going through his head. Before he could try to make a desperate run for it, a greasy muscly titan pulled him by his pants and laid him over a cold surgical table on his stomach. The other man, also of great height and the frame of a silverback gorilla tied Elon’s hands behind his back and shut his mouth so you could only hear faint moans and whining from that point on. His clothes were stripped as he tried to yell 

“No one can hear you here princess” the men mocked him. They teased Elon for his tiny nipples and examined him for a while since they had never seen anyone with such an odd fat distribution, mainly centered around his chest. 

“Look, you can jiggle his tits around” The two would erupt in laughter every time they shook him back and forth. 

One poured grease over Elon’s pasty figure, while the other spanked him with a wooden plank. You could hear cries through the duct tape, but it hardly mattered now. “You love it, don’t you?” Elon cried more in response. 

After a couple of minutes, one of the men brought a large cylindrical toy that made its way between Elon’s legs. His eyes widened, he had never felt so violated in his life, the other man ripped the tape off Elon’s mouth. The technocrat screamed in pain, but he would soon recognize that it was a mistake, since the mouth opening was now large enough for the second dildo to enter through his mouth. His ass and mouth no longer belonged to him, as one toy would go in the other would go out and vice versa, the sounds of laughter and retching filled the room. 

Bibi watched on a screen, how Elon would persist in pleading for help, yet every syllable would be interrupted by the giant metallic toy. 

Elon’s eyes filled up with tears, they dripped down his face and mixed with the gushing of saliva creeping down his mouth and chin from the constant gagging. He could barely see, he felt so embarrassed and powerless, his mind naturally started disassociating. 

The two men saw he was only half conscious and stopped for a second. Physical pain could only do so much damage, they were set to destroy his very ego. One of the men let in a thin, short woman with white hair. Elon couldn't make out her features, his vision was too blurry, but it reminded him of the only woman he had truly let into his heart, Grimes. He muttered her name, “Cl-air…is th-that…you…C-clai-re?” he was barely coherent. He heard the woman laugh. Was she laughing at him? His heart stopped. He couldn't let her see him like this. He hoped it wasn’t his ex wife but the possibility alone made him faint.

Netanyahu had Elon exactly where he wanted - broken, weak and too ashamed of his situation to ask for help. After all, asking for help or seeking retribution would only spread more awareness about violations Elon wanted to completely erase from his life. Bibi had the unconscious ceo-gamer thrown on the cold hard ground, where he would spend the next 12 hours in deep sleep. 

Elon’s great European revival seemed farther away than ever. How was he going to pull this off while being trapped in a den of untrustworthy, sociopathic charlatans? He hadn’t thought it through as much as he should have before getting himself involved.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure there’s no chlorine in the pool?” RFK Jr. asked the President with a concerned face. “A new study found swimming in chlorine for more than 2 hours can give you malaria  ” 

“Don’t worry, I had them filter all impurities, you won’t find water cleaner than this and they tried-they tried telling me Canada’s springwater is naturally clearer so I made them bottle up the springwater and I have to tell you, they should stick to lumber…” trump continued to ramble on, until his faithful assistant, Alejandro, came to him with devastating news. 

“President Trump, may I have a word with you?” 

“Not now Alejandro, I’m in the middle of a spa day with golf scheduled later, the American people will understand, in fact they voted for this. All seven swing states agreed I’m a better golf player than crows-feet-Kamala and by a wide margin…” After the president was done with his word salad, Alejandro informed him that the news didn’t concern the American people at all. Suddenly, Trump’s ears sprung up.

“I’m afraid this has to do with Argentina, Sir” 

“Argentina?”  The president said with a troubled face, it turned out the Argentine economy was on the brink of collapse and needed to be bailed out immediately. 

Argentina didn’t fill Trump with romantic aspirations just because it was the country of poets, wine and tango, the wellbeing of ‘the land of the Silver’ was a personal matter to him since his one true friend, Javier Milei was the one ruling over it and if he needed help, every option was on the table. 

“I will personally attend to the matter.” he said concisely to everyone's shock.

“Whatever you do, don’t eat the cheese in Buenos Aires, they contain trace amounts of methadone.”

With that warning in mind, Trump got on the first plane he could to console and help out his number one cheerleader, Milei. The city of Buenos Aires was as majestic as he had remembered, the fresh smells of pastries on the boulevards instilled a sense of zen he couldn’t quite describe. The sun shined differently here. Its rays danced through the leaves of the meticulously lined jacaranda trees and peacefully landed on the face of his Orangeness. 

The president made his way to Quinta de Olivos, where Javier Milei resided and for the last 24 hours, had been tearing himself apart trying to find a solution to the mess he had gotten Argentina’s economy in. Thankfully Don Don was at his door, with a bouquet of petunias  and more importantly, 20 billion dollars, straight from the taxpayer’s pockets. 

Trump made himself feel at home, the men sat next to each other on Milei’s couch and sipped wine while discussing how valuable their friendship was in a sea of traitors and socialists. Don Don’s fingertips grazed Javier’s hand, they looked at each other for a second. It felt like an eternity.  “I could listen to him talk about free markets all day” Trump thought, “if only I could leave Washington and move here…” But his stream of consciousness was interrupted by his assistant, Alejandro. He mentioned a name Trump seemingly couldn’t escape. 

“Sir, Elon Musk is missing, should we get the FBI on the case?”

“He’s been a missing father all his life, what’s the big deal?”

“Sir, it’s quite serious, he had been trying to get in touch with you, maybe he knew someone was trying to make him disappear. What if he was trying to warn you?”

Normally Trump wouldn’t care about any of this, but since he was in the presence of Milei, who was quite fond of the government spending cuts Elon had implemented, Trump thought he would get involved to impress his most cherished world leader.

“Uugh, Get Kash Patel to find him, dead or alive”

While Trump proceeded with his Latin American date, Elon had been spending his afternoon in solitary confinement, the Mpreg and infertility gas blueprints were stolen, and Netanyahu no longer needed him. The Israeli prime minister wanted all the nations to crumble, not just the Arab States. Why would he let Europe get strong again? Had they not humiliated the Jews enough? Was it not preferable to have unpatriotic, nihilistic, aging enemies with social and political rifts beyond repair? If the birthrates were plummeting Bibi wasn’t going to let Elon get away with reversing it. 

Netanyahu went to check on Elon’s cell to negotiate his release, but upon opening the door, he found the room to be completely empty. He was really missing and now, Israel’s intelligence agency, Mossad as well as the FBI were both involved in finding out where he had gone.

Chapter Text

Kash Patel. Perhaps the most underqualified FBI director the US had ever seen. He was constantly neglected as a child. Sometimes that's the cost of growing up with 8 siblings. However, in his case, he was overlooked by his parents solely because they found him deeply unimpressive. His mother thought the 9 months she spent carrying him turned out to have been a total waste of time. His father thought : “Hold on, which one was Kash again?”. 

He grew up wanting to prove them both wrong, that he would amount to something great. So far, while his siblings were working in healthcare, tech and running businesses, Kash was in charge of covering up Epstein files and lying about their existence. To Kash’s dismay, his family was deeply disturbed by the turn of events and were considering disowning him. At some point, Kash gave up wanting love from his family altogether. He started firing skilled agents for investigating the January 6 insurrection and the Mar-a-Lago files incident, mostly as a way to get affection from Trump instead. This was how he was planning on proving loyalty to his new daddy. 

Most recently, Kash had come under fire for his incompetence in handling the Charlie Kirk assassination case. The only reason the murderer got punished was because his parents turned him in. The FBI seemed weak and untrustworthy. Getting assigned a rescue mission for Elon Musk was great for his image right now. If he could get the near-trillionaire man-child back, his reputation would be restored. He would gain respect from the American public and maybe Trump would even give him a little peck on the forehead. He let himself get carried away in his fantasies. 

How was Patel supposed to find Elon? He could have been anywhere in the world right now. He had last tweeted a full day ago. This was odd, Elon rarely went 3 hours without tweeting, let alone a full 24 hours. This means something sketchy had to have happened anywhere from 27 to 21 hours ago. Kash Patel soon found that Elon’s private jet had flown to Tel Aviv in this time interval. Not necessarily out of the ordinary per se, but it was odd that shortly after, Netanyahu had asked for 20 billion apropos of nothing. Where did that money go? Was Elon somehow involved? He had to get to the bottom of this. 

Meanwhile in Israel, people were just as confused as to what had happened to their prisoner. Camera footage cut out for a full 15 minutes and nobody saw him escape. In fact many guards were found sleeping or unconscious. They couldn’t figure out how it was possible for a person to disappear out of thin air. Bibi was happy they were able to get hold of the Mpreg blueprints, but this victory now felt tainted. They had gotten themselves into unnecessary drama, and soon enough, FBi director extraordinaire - Mr. Patel was knocking at their door trying to get an answer that no one had. 

Patel was convinced they were hiding Elon somewhere around. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, why would we detain him? Israel is America’s greatest ally, we have no interest in harming its citizens”

“Was he here yesterday?”

“No, no, I don’t know where Mr. Musk is, you can search the place, but I assure you, you won’t find him”

“You’re lying, he flew in here yesterday”

Before you knew it, the antisemitism accusations started flowing around, calling jews deceitful was not something Netanyahu would take lying down. Most of the interrogation quickly became a mix between a quarrel and a history lesson about the hardships of ashkenazis in Europe. 

Around this time, hundreds of kilometers away, Elon finally opened his eyes. He didn’t know where he was. The room was dark, the air - humid, he was sweating like a pig from the heat. Outside he heard a foreign language, one he couldn’t recognize. “Is this Arabic? Hindu? Tamil? Where am I?” He didn’t have to wonder for long. As he got up from the floor, a door opened and in came the humble cleric turned supreme leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran himself, Seyyed Ali Hosseini Khamenei, behind him stood the same woman with white hair that Elon saw in the torture chamber in Israel. “Why am I in Iran? Am I going to die? And who is that woman?” A million questions plagued his mind.

Chapter Text

What a strange feeling it was, waking up in enemy territory after being raped on the land of a supposed ally. It was unclear what fate held for Europe’s last warrior, but no matter what awaited, Elon knew he had to come out on the other side stronger, for his fear of foreigners was greater than his fear of being manhandled like before.

Before him stood Ayatollah Kamenei- a brutal dictator whose eyes no longer distinguished dissidents from rats. Every cry in the street, every protest against his rule were akin to the shrieks of rodents. He had adorned himself with a turban and spoke the language of piety, but under his garment lay a different man entirely. He had just ordered an assassination on Ed Sheeran for his latest “persian-influenced” attempt at pop music, rightfully so. Life carried little weight to the supreme leader.

“What do you want from me?” Elon asked, trying to keep his cool. His voice was shaking, his face was alabaster white, unsure whether he’d live to see another day.

“I’ve brought you here to liberate you of course. I know how the Israelis have treated you, they’re no friends of yours” As the Ayatollah paused, the white haired woman showed Elon the camera footage of the rape. “That’s no way to treat a person, I will personally seek justice for you Mr. Musk”

“How did you get that footage? I don’t want justice! Delete this video immediately! No one must see it!”

“You don’t want justice?” Khaminei was a poet at heart, he recited a verse for Elon with a sinister tone.:

“I turn to right and left, in all the earth

I see no signs of justice, sense or worth:

A man does evil deeds, and all his days

Are filled with luck and universal praise;

Another's good in all he does - he dies

A wretched, broken man whom all despise”

Elon stood confused. What was all this talk about justice and liberation about? He only knew one thing for certain- the video of him getting raped had to be destroyed. His career would never recover, nor would his personal life. Everywhere he’d go, he would be seen as a pitiable man. 

Elon thought of liberals as hypocritical and envious people, they would mostly rejoice and cheer if they saw what happened to him, despite singing their praises of victims of sexual assault. “I don’t want to give these two-faced brats something to get excited about!”.  Conservatives would be disgusted of course, but after seeing Elon with two dildos going in and out on him, how could he expect them to see him as anything other than a woman? It was humiliating to think about.

“If you share that video anywhere or get anyone involved, I will make sure your regime crumbles in front of your eyes.” Musk told Khamenei in what was meant to be a menacing tone, it’s unfortunate his demeanor and lack of charisma made him come off as a petty child instead.

Khamenei was an opportunist, he wanted to release the video of course, it would show everyone the brutality of his worst enemy, Netanyahu. Everyone who wasn’t on board with being anti-Israel, would now understand and support Iran in waging war against the occupied territories. On top of showing the cruelty of Israel, he also wanted to flaunt the hospitality of the Iranian regime. He would present himself as a savior of Elon, an unlikely friend.

 If he could get the support of western people, who up until that point saw him as an oppressor of the Iranian people and women in particular, he could shift the narrative and claim he was misunderstood all along. He could claim what he really stood for was freedom. Khamenei really needed footage of Elon enjoying himself in captivity for this reason. He invited Elon over for some Ghormeh sabzi, the techno-fetishist hadn’t eaten the whole day after all. 

He wasn’t worried about Kash Patel and the FBI finding Elon there, not only because of his general buffoonery, but also because he had planted fake evidence suggesting Elon was abducted by Russians  and he knew the dummy would fall for it face flat.

Speaking of Mother Russia, that same evening, another leader who was well experienced in taking care of political dissidents and executing his opposition was having a horrible time. 

“How could he! How could he! How could he! Ughhh I can’t believe he would do this to me!” Putin screeched and cried before burying his head into his fluffy pillow “AAAAAAAAH!” He screamed into it with all his might, before his assistant, Aleksandr, barged into his room to console him. 

“Sir, you have been in your room the whole day, we need you to sign a mobilization decree”

Putin threw his pillow squarely at Aleksandr’s stupid face “Get away from me Sasha! Can’t you see I’m heartbroken?” He continued to cry hysterically while rolling around in his bed and punching his stuffed animals.

“I’m very sorry, I will come by at a different time”

“NO… stay” Putin took a deep sigh “Sasha what’s wrong with the way I am?”

“Nothing Sir, you are the most competent and respected leader of all the eastern hemisphere”

“That’s not what I mean…” He paused for dramatic effect and looked out the window with a disappointed face “Why does Donald play these games with me? One day he loves me, but the next he goes out and mingles with Argentina’s president!! Javier is not even that much younger than me and his sideburns make him look like he sells heroin out of a van!” 

“Oh is this what has made you so upset today?”

“He hasn’t answered any of my texts and he posted a picture with Javier saying they’re ideological brothers, can you believe this nonsense?? They're nothing alike in any of their policies and he still chooses him over me…I still remember the night we held each other, maybe I was wrong to cherish it, maybe it means nothing to him…”

“Sir, any man in the world would be lucky to spend a night with you, don’t talk about yourself like this”

“Oh yea? Then why did he ghost me right after? He didn’t feel very lucky at all! I’m not some tramp he can come to when he feels alone and then dump the next morning! I’ve had enough”

Putin took out his personal phone with the bejeweled pink phone case. He typed out a furious paragraph at the speed of light. His fingers were firing away a passive-aggressive insult after another. And before Sasha could stop him, it was already too late. 

“Hmph. Let’s see how he likes being dumped for good!” 

Trump received the text message to his great dismay. He was shocked at the personal disrespect he was receiving and the bits of text that were self aggrandising like “Any man should feel honored to even kiss the ground I walk on! I should be worshiped like the male goddess I am!” made him roll his eyes. Donald was done with this nonsense, this on and off again relationship was getting on his nerves. “Who does this guy think he is? controlling who I can and cannot go out with…so pathetic, I’ll show him who has a ‘wrinkly penis’” And just like that Trump had announced that he was going to help Ukraine take ALL its land back. 

Privately he texted Putin “You idiot! You let the Ukrainians hit your Gazprom refineries when I told you to stop fighting and now you have no gas, no money and no progress on the battlefield! hope the winter isn’t too cold in russia, the whole thing about no gas might really be a problem otherwise <3” 

This really struck a nerve with Putin. He wanted to retaliate where it hurt and he wasn’t a fan of half measures.

Chapter Text

Germany, Italy, Korea, Japan, Turkey, Qatar, Singapore…high ranking generals stationed in US military bases from around the world all got the same call on the faithful night of September 27th. The Pentagon demanded all top commanders be present for a meeting with the secretary of War, Pete Hegseth. Of what importance could this have been? it was up for anyone’s guess. One thing was certain though - if they were going to drag the most important military personnel from active war zones, it better had been good. 

Pete Hegseth of course had served in the military before, but he was barred under the Biden administration for having a “tattoo with a nazi slogan”. “Such bullshit!” He thought. He couldn’t stand being bossed around by the woke mob before he could even rank up to the level he wanted. “It was a catholic phrase! A catholic slogan! In latin for fuck’s sake! Not German! How is it my fault if certain nazis find the saying ‘deus vult’ cool?” At the time he was indignant, fully convinced this was an attack on his faith. He doubled down and got a Jerusalem cross tattoo, as well as the name ‘Yeshua’ in Hebrew and just to be safe, a tattoo of a sword inside a cross, in case the other tattoos and his general demeanor didn’t already convey to passers-by that he was a christian who longed for bloodshed. Very compatible ideas, as many crack addicts on the side of the street might tell you.

As this very sane man was preparing to go on stage, hundreds were seated, curious to find out what would be announced. What could be so important that even the highest ranking general from Djibouti needed to be dragged in to see ? Hegseth began his speech “The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines ‘war’ as…” All eyebrows raised in unison “They brought me here to listen to this freakshow?” every person in the auditorium wondered. No one could understand why this toilet-cleaning-ranked ex-military member was wasting their time. 

Perhaps Hegseth was off to a rough start, sadly it only got worse from there. No one seemed to be interested in listening to him talk about how fat generals and women made him feel gross. Many believed most statements he made should have been kept between him and his Grindr profile. “We also need to get rid of bald officers in order to convey professionalism, go to Turkey if you must, take the hair away from your beards and replant them on your scalp. Beards are also unacceptable from now on.” This all seemed very strange for those who didn’t know better, but Hegseth was putting on this clown show to get revenge on Biden. 

He could never forgive Biden for discharging him of his service and persecuting him in such a shameless way. As Christ’s strongest soldier, he considered forgiveness in general to be for the weak. Pete was going to show the senile old man who was in power from now on. Deep down Hegseth didn’t care which general attended, he brought them in as a pure power move. He wanted the speech to be televised to the nation, but he was only concerned about a single pair of eyes - those of Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. “Look at me now you dementia-ridden octogenerian! Look who’s talking down to the most powerful people of this nation! Look who can control what the military looks like now! It’s me! It’s me! NOT YOU!  MY HANDS WILL SHAPE THE STRONGEST, MOST DISCIPLINED, LETHAL MILITARY HISTORY HAS EVER SEEN- YOUR HANDS HAVE ARTHRITIS!!!”. Hegseth’s chain of thought often devolved into incoherent outbursts of anger against the former president. 

At the end of the speech, while everyone had written off the importance of this power-play masquerading as a gathering, Hegseth nonchalantly announced that “the US would be taking back Jerusalem in the name of Rome” He got carried away in his revenge thoughts and had blurted it out loud. Everyone was shocked, including the AIPAC (American Israel Public Affairs Committee) lobbyists. Was he going to follow through on this? Not even the highest ranking general of Djibouti had the answer.

Meanwhile, in Iran, after having spent a full day with Ali Khameini, talking about his feelings and experiences, Elon was fully emotionally disarmed. He couldn't believe someone had taken such sincere interest in him. Khameini would listen to Elon boast about his professional and personal life, the supreme leader would even give encouragement, praise, above all, he made Elon feel heard. 

“Elon, I share this with almost no one, but I feel as though we have become brothers, you and I”. Elon nodded in response “This is a poem I cherish a lot, it’s from my wife, she is now dead.” Ali started reading, his voice quivered at places, he was recollecting the way in which Khadejeh, the love of his life, would enunciate the words, in which places she slowed down or accelerated. He could feel her overtake his mouth as he proceeded:

“It’s a fool’s errand - a misguided attempt,

To put into words the warmth your love represents,

For the sin of incompleteness, I hold the makers of language in contempt,

But I’m afraid for such flaw, there’s no means for repent

Every word uttered turns your ruby-red touch,

Into a cheap imitation of red brick dust,

Such a curse dwells in every soul needy of a pen and a brush,

Knowing the beauty of silence doesn’t give in to rust”

“That’s very moving.” Elon said dryly. 

“This poem…it haunts me. Every time I recite it, I can’t do it the way she would. The first two lines where she says how difficult it is for her to convey her love are like a kick in the stomach, because at this moment I am her, trying to describe to you what her love felt like and I can’t. No word is good enough. She’s gone. And her love will never bloom again.” Khameini teared up. “Have you ever been in love?”

Elon froze up, he had numerous baby mamas, but love? The ultimate soul-wrenching emotion that made you feel the burning of the flames of Ahura Mazda himself? the fervor that ate up every nook and cranny of your brain as a test of your determination? Had Elon felt the hunger, the sickness, the drowning, the endless suffering in the pursuit of a woman’s heart?

“Yes.” he answered

“Was she spectacular?”

“...She still is.”

“Oh you have to write her a poem! I will not let you go until you do.” Khomeini clapped his hands together in joy.

“Me? A poem? I’m not very good at that kinda stuff”

“Astaghfirullah! do not say such nonsense in my bedroom!!”

“I’m sorry” Elon was surprised at the intensity of the supreme leader’s reaction.

“All humans need poetry in their life, that's how we know we’re human. What you feel right now, this love that’s inside you, you might never feel again. Once you change and feel it no more, it will have died without having ever lived. But when you write poetry, you immortalize the beauty within you, so that even if it dies one day, nothing can kill it.” 

“The girl I love, Grimes, she is a singer…”

“Oh so you must have heard this from her already!”

“I think you’re right, Ali”

And like that, Elon started putting pen to the paper. Hoping he would get Grimes back with the power of iambic pentameters! At that very moment, a phone rang from a different heartbroken man, Vladimir Putin was on the line and he wanted trouble.

Chapter Text

“I’m over here, you're over there

But I wish I was with you to touch your hair”

“No, no… it's not right”  Elon couldn’t comprehend why his poems weren’t coming off the way he wanted. He felt a deep sense of longing and yearned for love, but couldn’t convey it above a 3rd grade level. This was a new feeling for a man who had never lost a single game of chess, had never been outdone in any video game, always won the spelling bee as a child, and knew the answer to all trivia questions thrown his way. He was truly an intellectual titan, so why was he having such a hard time with something as uncomplicated and primitive as poetry?

Khamenei had his face buried between his palms “My god” he thought “this man has the reasoning of a dog”, he was both disturbed by the child-like simplicity of the words used by the man pushing 60 and the scandalous mention of woman’s hair. The whole affair was quite triggering, but before the supreme leader could give instructions for improvements-

“I think I got it!” Elon exclaimed

“your beauty is like snow

When you’re away im feeling low”

“No, man…why is this so hard?” 

The ayatollah felt like he was stuck with a child, but he was determined to get Elon to write something beautiful.

“You say she is like snow, why is that?”

“Well she has white hair, so it reminds me of snow”

“Is she a virgin? Pure like snow?”

“What? No, she's in her 30s”

Khamenei was shocked, his wife was 15 when he married her -now that was someone worth comparing to snow, but a woman in her 30s? All used up and trampled up? Ridiculous. He kept his thoughts to himself and decided to entertain these delusions against his better judgement.

“But to you she is pure? Like snow?”

“Yes, I think you’re onto something”

“And you keep talking about how being separated hurts you, what would you do if she was here? Tell her how you feel, that’s what poetry’s for.”

“I would want to hug her and hold her like when we first met.” Elon could feel a surge of emotions overtake him in the form of scorching heat, it arose from his chest, then reddened his face and wet his eyes. “I want her to hold me again so much” his thin little lips started quivering. In that moment he took his pen and started jotting down his most intimate, sincere emotions. Kamenei knew there was hope even for someone as artistically challenged as Elon. And just as he finally started cracking a proud smile he got another ring from the messiest of all queens, Vladimir Putin.

“Ali, why didn’t you answer the first time I called?  drop what you’re doing and listen to me. You need to strike Israel.”

Khamenei was confused, there's nothing he wanted more than to see Israelis pay for their war crimes of course, but he knew it was an unwise decision to attack with the deck stacked against him.

“What’s the occasion, Vova?”

“I need to get back at Donald. It doesn’t have to be much, just bomb them a little, I will give you all the fighter jets you need”

Putin’s thought process was simple: ‘break my heart and I’ll crush your ego’ and Don Don was after the Nobel Peace Prize. It was Trump’s dream to be seen in the history books as one of the Greats. Jesus, Caesar, Napoleon, Trump. These names were made to be put together in textbooks and dictionaries for ages to come. Putin was not having it, he was secretly going around scheming, blackmailing, forcing world leaders to start conflicts so Trump’s reign would be remembered as a period of particularly high unrest and unending conflict.

“You want to get at him? I might have a better idea. Why don’t I call you back in the evening?”

“Sure, we can figure something out”

The men hung up. While the two weren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination, ‘the enemy of my enemy’ isn’t an antagonistic position to be in either. They could both count on the other acting in self-serving ways and never sought to unnerve one another. Conflict between the two clearly spelled out a zero sum game neither wanted part in. 

In this situation any person willing to stir up conflict was Putin’s ally. He prayed and prayed at night that the right person would rise to power and kickstart a new conflict just to rub it in Donald’s dumb, drab face. It would not fall on deaf ears. Putin’s wishes would be answered by the motorcycle-riding, leather-draped, metalhead drummer, Sanae Takaichi. She was set to become Japan’s next prime minister and this pinnacle cool girl was luckily also a war hungry militarist. She couldn’t have been more beautiful in Putin’s eyes, the hate that festered in her heart for the Chinese was nothing short of inspiring. “What a principled woman” he thought, Putin’s lips moved on their own, forming into a soft smile when he heard her give a speech about increasing military spending. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Takaichi said she wanted to revoke article 9 from the Japanese constitution. This despotic article forced the Japanese people to forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation. To accomplish this aim, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, could not be maintained. Japan’s right of belligerency had been unrecognized since WWII. Finally, a savior emerged, she would restore Japan to its former glory. 

Sanae Takaichi loved her predecessors like Kenji Doihara, who carried out the invasion of Manchuria or Iwane Matsui, who commanded troops during the rape of Nanjing, along with 12 other class A war criminals. She would regularly pay respect to them in the Yasukuni shrine. 

Takaichi knew she had a hard task at hand. Her toughest challenge was dealing with one of the worst birth rates in the world and a rapidly aging population. Could she reduce the workload of the citizens so they could focus more on raising kids? She would ask to be forgiven for bursting out loud if you ever brought this up to her. As an honorable woman, her work was her pride. Nothing could take that away from her or the citizens she was in charge of. 

Everyone was staunchly opposed to immigration as a solution, but the Japanese people were neither unfair nor racist. They really tried to integrate the nearby cultures to their best abilities. Takaichi herself was a philosopher at heart and tried to come up with innovative ways to assimilate Indians. “What if we bleached and boiled their skin as a way to clean them of their rotten sense of civic neglect?” She asked the sort of questions only the scientists of unit 731 got close to answering. But sadly, in today’s neoliberal society, it was near impossible to carry out experiments to find out whether Indians could ever make for civilized immigrants. 

The Chinese were also a backwards people and just too plain loud. Their language wasn’t pleasant enough to justify how loud and obnoxious they were, especially after a drink. Maybe if they agreed to have their mouths sewn, they would be allowed citizenship, but they were ultimately stubborn, unreasonable people. The Koreans were of course the biggest crybabies who couldn’t stop exaggerating the ‘war crimes’ committed against them. God forbid they stubbed their toes, they would find a way to blame it on the Japanese as well. Indonesians and Malaysians were muslims and therefore Arabs. It was perplexing why these delusional rainforest people wanted to dress like they were in the midst of the Sahara desert. Unluckily for Japan, they were surrounded by lazy, dirty, uneducated, loud, annoying, borderline schizophrenic neighbors and they had no real means of fixing them for the better. You couldn’t say that the Japanese didn’t try to make immigration work, they were simply given no options. Takaichi was the bright light who hoped to be able to civilize the animals of the Far East and scare off any criminal wrongdoer with overwhelming military might. Japan would join the EU, Pakistan, Turkey, the US and more to really crank up their military spending. What a blessing it was to be Putin and have God on your side.

“I got it! I truly got it this time!” Elon jumped awkwardly with joy back in Tehran. 

‘Read me your work”  Khamenei had been correcting and nudging him in particular directions for over 2 hours now. He was hoping all this effort would pay off.

“Engulf me in your arms embrace,

Like virgin snow on a mountain-top,

Caress me, so for a minute more, I can feel your grace,

Wash over me with raindrops of your touch.

I can't feel you when you're so far away,

Its maddening we must live under different skies,

Daylight comes to you from the sun's rays,

But it stops by the moon, before resting on my eyes

Come to me so I may hold you tonight,

With my fingertips combing through your knots,

My wife, my love, defeat this plight,

Hurry back to me in Camelot

Another sun's swallowed by the horizon's lake, 

So I beg, be by my bedside before morning wake”

“Now that’s progress!” Komenei rejoiced. 

“Do you think she will like it?”

“Absolutely, it’s your best work, she will be beyond amazed this could come from your mind”

“Do you think she will take me back?”

“That is for her to decide, but she will be delighted to hear you speak this way to her, that I can tell you for sure. Every woman is a delicate flower, they love being watered with words of love”

Elon’s heart was pounding, was he going to get her back? The future looked uncertain, he had no choice but to find out for himself.

Chapter Text

“Where the fuck is he?! It’s been a week!” Netanyahu couldn’t understand why his intelligence agency and the FBI couldn’t get a lead on the case of the disappearance of Elon Musk. Khamenei had previously planted fake evidence to make it seem as though Elon was abducted by the SVR (Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service), but it had been a fruitless pursuit. FBI director extraordinaire, Kash Patel had gone to Russia, visited and examined every prison he could think of, talked to higher up officials, he left no stone unturned and yet no one seemed to have a clue what he was on about.  

“Sir, Kash Patel wants to have a word with you” Aleksandr told Putin  

“Uggh, tell that scallywag to come in later, I’m having an important call!” Putin shut the door squarely in front of Aleksandr’s stupid face. The faithful assistant knew he wasn't being paid nearly enough to put up with the presidential sass. 

“Sorry Ali, where were we?”

“I have a tape I can offer you which will really upset the American people, it will destabilize and polarize them like nothing they’ve ever seen, if you want to get at Trump, I’ve got the right thing for you, but I will give it to you on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“When you acquire it, you will have to release it into the world.” 

Kamenei had the footage spliced up and edited so you could see Elon being properly dicked down. Nothing from that scene was censored or cut. After the rape however, you had footage of Elon in Tehran, enjoying his food, and writing away. In reality he was writing love poems to Grimes of course, but the tape showed footage of doctored texts that included statements like “death to Israel and curse on the Jews”. The supreme leader had made it seem like he had rescued Elon, who was passionately engaged in writing a manifesto and calling for a war on Judaism. “These money-hungry beady-eyed freaks will not stop until every American ass is violated! I am ashamed I ever went to their stupid sacred wall, my penis was circumcised against my will by a jewish doctor, this is the reality of many Americans. When will we take our assholes and foreskin back? When will we stop bowing down to their fanatical visions?” 

This was all made up, Elon had never penned these ideas, but it seemed extremely realistic and that was enough to get people divided. The Ayatollah thought it would be perfect to have a third party release this material to take the heat off of Iran. He was not concerned with the well being of Russians, they could help out in spreading his message into the world and involve them as crash dummies. If people were going to get mad, they would get mad at either Israel for the general demonic behavior or Russia, for spreading the word and ‘inciting anti-semetism’. Iran looked incidental to this case.

“What’s on the tape, I can’t agree to the terms unless I know”

“It involves a very well known American citizen with vast political capital being abducted by the IDF, but I cannot say more” 

Putin raised his bleach blond eyebrows in shock. “How old is this?”

“Very recent”

Kash Patel was sitting outside waiting to get his meeting with Putin, thankfully he had the ears of an African bush elephant. “A very well known American huh? Abducted by the IDF? What does the leader of Iran know? How is he involved in all this?” 

“I will think about this Ali, give me some time”

“Don’t think for too long, the offer is on the table for 24 hours”

Putin wanted to humiliate Trump, he was promised material that showed the abduction of a high-profile American citizen, he could picture it so clearly in his head, how it would show the cartoonish incompetence of the Trump administration, how it would stir up unprecedented levels jew-hatred, which would in turn expose the inability of Trump’s closest allies to denounce Israel, as well as a cascade of a thousand chaotic events that would run the president’s reputation to a ground. It was all being handed to him on a silver platter. He didn’t want to be the one to release it though, no one wanted that pressure, he would have to find a way to leak the tape from inside the US by a secret agent, but it was risky. Putin truly had a lot to think about. 

Meanwhile, Kash Patel had gotten up from his chair and had already told his pilot that they were headed to Tehran. All he knew was that he had 24 hours to get to that tape before it could reach the Kremlin, and subsequently, the rest of the world.

“Sasha, you can let in the FBI guy now”

“I’m afraid he has left, Sir”

“How odd”

Chapter Text

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the coolest girl of them all?”

“Sanae Takaichi”

“WHAT?!” 

Horror. It was not a good day to wake up as the Italian prime minister Giorgia Meloni. Her face was drenched in a terrifying mixture of envy, disgust, fear and above all - insecurity. For as long as she had been involved in politics, this blonde beast of Europe had been the IT girl. All the men, married or otherwise, swooned over her publicly. They stared, drooled and fawned over her on camera during important summits, only to go home to their wife and kids without an ounce of shame. 

Albanian prime minister, Edi Rama broke 3 bones trying to learn how to do a backflip just to impress her during a meeting. He later settled for a bouquet of roses and sang her his live rendition of ‘Bésame Mucho” assisted by a mexican quartet. Not to be outdone by Viktor Orbán, democracy’s biggest hater and Hungarian prime minister, in that order- this gentleman always kept a heart locket with Meloni’s picture in his shoe because her beauty was ‘his achilles heel’. Orbán once chained himself to a tree outside Meloni’s house proclaiming he would not come off until she blew him a kiss. Ethnic Georgian and man of a thousand faces, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan could not sleep and refused to eat after Meloni accidentally tripped on stairs and injured her ankle. He ordered his military men to spit on every staircase they saw for the next 6 months, both as symbolic revenge and to further his goal to make Turkey completely unlivable. This was the type of behavior Meloni was used to by her fellow peers. Everywhere she went they wagged their tails like the little dogs they were, desperate to be pet by her gracious hand and she enjoyed every bit of it.

One time she dropped a pen just to see what would happen. A sea of presidents and prime ministers rushed under the table, kicking and elbowing each other to be Meloni’s hero of the day. 

Ultimately, Syria’s president, Ahmed Al-Sharaa won out and said “I think you dropped this” in the best bedroom voice he could muster. He made sure to purse his lips and furrow his brows for maximum sex-appeal. Meloni tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly flustered “Thank you so much” she said coyly as she reached to take the pen. The former Al-Qaeda member took the opportunity to kiss her hand and commented on how stunning her eyes were. At that moment every other politician wanted to curb-stomp him up out of pure jealousy.

Meloni was understandably nervous that her status as the main diva appeared numbered. She didn’t know if she could compete with a motorcycle-riding band-girl ABG, who was frankly far better at xenophobia than her. What if the next time she dropped something she would have to pick it up herself? Unimaginable. Simply traumatic to even consider. Putin was already under Takaichi’s spell. Who would be next? Meloni was determined to leave the question unanswered.

Speaking of the devil, Putin hadn’t stopped scheming since the talk with Khamenei. It would be a foolish mistake to underestimate the reach of his slimy tentacles. They didn’t just stretch to a couple of world leaders, but went all the way even in the heart of the Norwegian Nobel Committee. The puppets who were in charge of choosing who to award the coveted Nobel peace prize weren’t as objective as the general audience might have imagined. Putin had blackmail on most of the people running the selection process and he didn’t think twice to weaponize it.

“Who would Donny hate to see win the most?”

It had to be someone he didn’t respect, which didn’t help a great deal in narrowing down the perfect candidate. Putin thought it would be a cruel joke to have someone similar enough that it would stir up confusion, comparison and envy, but not so close it would be considered a proxy win for Trump. Giving it to someone like vice-president JD Vance might have made Trump perplexed as to why the baby-faced, propeller hat wearing, chipmunk-cheeked, cataract-eyed, no real opinion having, leather-skinned, Pope-killer was chosen over him, but it would still have been a victory for his administration. Putin chose to sway the favor towards María Corina Machado. She was Venezuelan, a country Trump thought was exclusively inhabited by drug dealers and rapists. Yet, she was close to Trump in her desire to have an oligarchy and undermine democratically elected leaders. Mr. Orange didn’t take the news well.

“Oh. Hell. No.” He started pacing around his room until the 79 year olds heart health caught up with him at which point he sat down. “They awarded some random tramp what rightfully belongs to me?” His mind was immediately flooded with flashbacks of the 2020 presidential election, which was clearly rigged in favor of bumbling-baffoon Biden and criminal-kamala. Trump was stimming with rage that another obvious victory had been snubbed under his nose by the filthy Norwegians. 

“They poked a bear, they really did, they poked a grizzly bear, not one of those small cute bears you might see at a nice animal sanctuary, no, not this one, this is a big, ferocious- that's a good word, ferocious, white bear. And when you poke the bear you get bit” 

The cognitive sharpness of his excellence was on full display. He knew exactly what he had to do to show the Norwegian Nobel Committee that they had made a huge mistake by not awarding Donald the Peace Prize. He immediately started attacking Venezuelan vessels in international waters, killing two dozen people. Did he plan on stopping there? That was the last thing you should’ve asked the President. Trump’s nerves were firing on all cylinders, he was going to get the CIA involved in a mission that had regime change written all over it.

Chapter Text

Knock on the door. No answer. Another knock. Still no answer. Third knock. This time reverberating like thunder. This couldn’t be happening. Khamenei could tell that whoever was behind the gate wasn’t playing around. The ayatollah’s sense of culpability materialized under his nose in the form of a putrid metallic stench. His vision started to blur, since he knew exactly who stood waiting. 

Khamenei grabbed his Makarov pistol, it was a gift from Putin from a while ago, but Ali could still feel the imprint of his frenemy on the cold steel. He suspected Kash Patel had gotten through ten different waves of guards and militias. “He’s not stupid enough to kill me is he?” Khamenei thought, assuming that his political position and status would offer him some sort of protection. But then again, Kash could have claimed that he had done it to save Elon’s life. That the security of an American citizen was threatened and had no choice. Khamenei squeezed the Makarov tight, he knew he couldn't kill Patel either, it would inevitably trigger a war against the US and no one was dumb enough to want such a lopsided conflict.

 “If I open the door and don’t shoot, I could get killed right away. I have to shoot. But if I shoot and kill Patel, the US military will reign down hell on earth for Iran, but more importantly - me.” There seemed to be no good solutions. Khamenei looked over at Elon, the idiot had no idea what was going on, he had been so caught up in the newfound hobby of poetry, it hardly mattered to the technocract that he hadn’t seen his friends or his army of children in over a week. “Elon should open the door.” and so he did.

“Kash? What is the FBI doing here?” Elon was genuinely this clueless. He couldn’t understand the political implications of the situation he was in. 

Dozens of men in kevlar entered the bunker, not acknowledging the richest man on earth standing in front of them, they grabbed and dragged Khamenei towards their director. 

“Wait what are you doing! He didn’t do anything wrong.” Elon cried out. He considered Khamenei as his true friend, if the FBI was going to murk him, who would be left? Who would bother reading his poems? Who would actually help him get Grimes back instead of rolling their eyes? Even the ‘nice’ people Elon talked to were his employees or people who got money from him in some way. Everyone wanted something from him, they saw him as a walking charity, someone to exploit, to trick; people would lower themselves, make themselves pitiable to get what they wanted. Elon was starved of real human connection most of his life, he had already lost Grimes, he wouldn’t let it happen again.

“If you don’t let go of him, I will turn your lives into a living hell!”

“Elon, I have been tasked by president Trump to get you back to Texas safely. This man has abducted you…”

“...ABDUCTED ME?” Elon didn’t let Patel finish his sentence “He rescued me” 

It slipped out of Elon's lips, but he regretted it after mere seconds. While it was true that anything would be better than to spend a single day in the grip of Israel’s most sociopathic agents, how was he going to explain to Kash what he got rescued from? The last thing Elon wanted was for anyone to find out about how brutally he got raped and humiliated. He didn’t want classified FBI files describing the incident to sit on bookshelves collecting dust until some whistleblower got access to it or worse - for it to be declassified anyway in 50 years. Elon’s legacy for the rest of time would be ‘the boy who was raped by Israel’. 

“We have flight logs of you going to Israel, you tweeted how excited you were to go there, shortly after that point your jet disappeared from flight logs and your coworkers reported not being able to contact you. The Israeli officials say you didn’t pay them a visit, that it was a tourist trip. Now you are in a bunker in Tehran, something is not adding up. So tell me, if you weren’t abducted, what were you rescued from?” 

Kash knew that something fishy had happened in Israel, after overhearing Khamenei’s phone call with Putin, it was obvious that there was more to this situation than a simple kidnapping. He wasn’t picturing two Israeli gimps in a torture chamber per se, but he was determined to uncover the truth. 

“They are right, I didn’t pay the officials a visit” 

As Elon started speaking, Khamenei furrowed his brow, he couldn’t understand how a man could fall to such pathetic levels. He wanted Elon to carry on with the rescue narrative, it was true after all. He was now realizing that he couldn’t puppet Elon to further his goals, that man already had strings attached to him from something far worse and far more powerful. As a non-American, Khamenei knew he was in the most volatile position. His life was worth less to the westerners and sadly, they were the ones with superior weapons and the media conglomerates that shaped world consciousness. Globally, his death would simply matter less. Right now he had no power, so he sat in silence and let Elon talk, he had no choice but to go along for the time being.

“I went there as a tourist… to…uh, you know…look for a wedding destination…: 

Elon was biding time with each word, he had to come up with something to distract from the truth.

“...Ali saved me…by… teaching me how to write wedding vows! They’re right here, you can take a look” Elon scrambled to get some of the writing he had been engulfed in for the past few days. Patel snatched it out of his hands, fully aware he was being lied to. He started reading anyway.

“I love you dearly but know not for what reason,

Your smile, your hair, the way your cheeks blush in winter season,

Would all be enough for a man with dimmest vision,

To be left with cupids arrows cruel incision

Yet i care not for your smile a single bit,

Nor do I long for your sly and childlike wit,

Your playful demeanor, your humorous quips-

Aren't what make me want to press against your lips

For if you were to fall sick with a gaunt expression,

Humor all faded into a deep depression,

Face and body aged beyond recognition,

I would still love you on no condition

Then what is it about you I can't live without?

If I can't even find it when I pull you apart?” 

It really was Elon’s handwriting. Kash was flabbergasted, there were dozens of these kinds of love poems, neither of which seemed to be fabricated. The FBI made elon write sample texts to verify if it was truly his, and it was undeniable, each pen stroke, the distances between letters and words, the stiffness and rigidity of the style - all the poems were actually written by him. This baffled Kash, suddenly he didn’t know what he was looking at. 

“I’m telling you! This man has treated me with nothing but hospitality! The reason my coworkers couldn’t reach me was because my head was buried in this wonderful form of art he introduced me to and if that’s a crime, then I don’t want to be innocent. But you listen to me, Kash, the only reason you have any rank in the Trump administration at all, is because I bought the media ahead of the election. If you think I am not THE reason you have anything going for you in your life, I will make sure you understand.” 

“So when you say he rescued you…”

“Ugh, the pressure of coming up with wedding vows is like nothing you can imagine! That guy over there is my savior. I suggest you return back to the US, I am safe here and will return shortly myself” 

Kash felt insulted that he was being lied to at such a low-level, but there was truth in what the south-african emerald mine inheritor had been saying. If Elon were just some guy, Kash would have waterboarded the whole story out of him by now. However, this concerned someone with an information dissemination machine like no other under his control and mountains of money. In a world where capital is akin to power, Patel was not going to call the shots without solid evidence backing him. He couldn’t have just said “what about the compromising video?”, if Elon wanted the case dropped, it would be. After all, he looked genuinely healthy, unharmed, and it seemed to be oddly true that he was getting in touch with his poetic side. Just as Kash was about to drop the case, it would be reopened by the worst-timed phone call in history. 

“Ali, are you there?”

‘Answer him.’ Kash mouthed at Khamenei with a threatening expression.

“I’m here, Vova”

“Ok so, I’ve thought about the compromising footage of this mysterious high profile American you want to hand over and I want in. But! I need to make sure I can release it into the world in an unofficial way, a spy, a covert agent, I can’t do it through russian media, thats my counter-offer to you, what do you say?”

Everyone’s heart dropped. A profound silence entered the room. Everyone knew who ‘the mysterious American was’. For Kash, this was a smoking gun, this was what he needed to question Elon and Khamenei further so the lies could be dispersed. For Khamenei, this meant a death sentence, his entire body began trembling, he was blanking and forgetting words, he could not think about anything but the abyss his consciousness was going to be imprisoned in after his death. In his heart, he didn’t believe for a second he was going to anything resembling heaven.

For Elon, having Khamenei backstab him and sell him out felt like being burned alive. ‘He just wanted something out of me…just like the rest of them’ Elon’s mind started working over-time. He felt a kaleidoscope of gut-wrenching emotions, betrayal, shame, embarrassment, resentment, but most of all, he felt some pure, good-old fashioned hatred. “Why am I standing here defending a man, who all along was trying to profit off of my downfall?” He thought “It really meant nothing to him that I opened up my soul, huh? I bet he doesn’t even like my art…he probably finds it stupid, he probably laughs behind my back too.”  Elon turned to look at Khamenei only to see a petrified statue, a man whose eyes no longer reflected any light.

“...HELOOOO, Ali? Can you hear me? I said I’ll leak whatever footage you have, are you still willing to send it or not?”