Dana pushed open the glass doors with ease

Mulder woke to a horrendous knocking on his door. The knocking turned to smashing and the rotting thing broke away. Six armed men, dressed in dark suits, entered and secured the room. Mulder was barely aware of what was happening when two of them pulled him to his feet.

"Sir, are you Special Agent Fox Mulder?" Asked a third. The dark sunglasses and combed hair did little to hide the disdain etched in the man's face like the dark lines on the gray surface of an etch-a-sketch.

Mulder blinked and tried to get his bearings. "Hey what is this? You can't arrest me! This is bullshit!"

"Sir are you Fox Mulder?" The man asked again, unfazed by the triad.

"Yes I'm Fox Mulder! What the hell is this man?"
The man nodded. His mustache was fantastic - a true specimen of masculinity.

"I'm special agent Pat O'Day, Secret Service."

"I've never counterfeited money or assassinated a president or nothing! Get out!" Mulder's drunken rage was quite pronounced.

"Sir, I've been sent to invite you to the White House. The president would like to meet you."

"Then tell him to send a letter, not this door-bashing Gespato crap!"

"Sir, this is urgent and related to the events in England."

"You mean?" Mulder felt like a bucket of water had hit him from behind. He had no idea what the president would want with him, but if it involved England, then maybe someone was finally starting to believe. "Alright, let me change and I'll -"
"There's no time Mulder. Clothes will be provided on the way. I'll be able to explain more as well."

Mulder, shaking in his vomit soaked suit and unable to stand without the support of two men, had nothing to lose. His life - careerless, womanless, devoid of meaning and purpose was forfeit. "I'll go, take me."

Pat O'Day nodded with a grin. He would take Mulder - to the president. When Pat O'Day did a job he did it hard, and he did it fast. Mulder was a job, Pat had done him hard and fast. The President would be pleased - Fox Mulder was not an easy man, to find, - and Pat liked to please the president. Jack Ryan was his kind of man. A real man, made of morals and principles who kept in good shape and didn't let the sissy capitalists make him smoke dope and become weak and fat. Pat loved his wife too, like the real man he was.

The Secret Service agents left quickly and with more secrecy than with which they arrived. Mulder was placed in the back of a black SUV. Pat sat next to him. A fresh pile of clothes lay on the seat.

"Here, change," said Pat in his characteristic commanding voice. Mulder obliged and was soon stripped bare and naked for all the SUV to see. Pat was impressed. He had seen many men in his day, but none a foot long soft like the ex-FBI agent. Pat had thought him a nerd, but obviously this Fox must be a real pleaser of ladies. Pat even felt a little twinge of envy. With a piece like that, Pat could be a father of hundreds - not just the single child growing slowly in the abdomen of his wife Andrea.

Despite what Pat was thinking, the couple had started late down the parenting road so they could pursue their careers in law enforcement and then later in the secret service. They had met there, both serving the previous president. He was a dyed in the wool pinko floppy-spined, limp-wristed liberal who wanted to make a statement by having a woman, Andrea, be his secret service agent. It was this pandering that caused America to become as wussy as it currently had been before Jack Ryan took over. Jack was sworn in as the flames of the Capital building flamed up at the night sky fed bright by the pink blood of the last administration. A crazed Japanese pilot decided to skullfuck America and the last president let him. And that had cost a lot of roly-poly senators and the last Oval Officiate their lives.

When Jack was in charge order returned like a boomerang. He sent the Japanese a letter saying they'd better pay up for this, and they did. Because of Jack Ryan nobody in Japan can fly a plane anymore. Koreans, a colony of Japan, can't even fly them either - because they look Japanese. That's the way the Ryan world works.

Pat wasn't thinking about any of that. Instead he was watching Mulder put on a new pair of boxer briefs. Pat imagined what pleasure a woman must feel when she takes that immense dong into her secret love waterfall cave.

"So Agent O'Day, you said you could tell me more about this?" Fox pulled a shirt over his taunt frame.

Pat shook away his day dreams. "That's right. You may be the leading man when it comes to the paranormal - and right now things are damn weird."

"You can say that again," said Fox as he finished dressing.

"The president wants you as an advisor."

"How does the president even know me? I work in the basement of the FBI building and my superiors treat my work as that of a nutcase. They call me 'Spooky'. I couldn't get their attention if I jerked off in their faces."

Pat tried to hide his smile at the thought.
"Well son, the President knows a lot of things. It may not have seemed like it, but you came on enough faces to get your name rolling around. Yeah, sure it was all jokes, a way to get a laugh about UFOs and werewolves and shit, but now there really are UFOs and werewolves and shit and it's your chance to laugh at us."

"I wish it didn't have to be under these circumstances."

"Neither does England, son," Pat leaned up real close to the ex-FBI man. "But I'm damn glad I got to meet you."

Mulder nodded and then turned to stare out the window. He thought he saw Dana with two teenage girls, but he shrugged it off as a slight madness.