Donald Trump X Neko Vladimir Putin!!!

Chapter 9: Self Loathing

A dull ache throbbed in Trump's chest. He now had dried tears staining his orange cheeks, and his eyes were inflamed from all the crying he had done. Someone had taken advantage of the white house's vulnerable time to steal his one and only love, Neko Vladimir Putin, away. The fact that the attacks on the White House had ended soon after they discovered that Putin was gone, which just proved that the target was Putin.

This was all my fault! If only Trump had gone to him first instead of going to the emergency bunker then maybe he wouldn't have been kidnapped. His heart trembled just thinking about it. I could've protected him! Just the thought of his lovely boy in distress made the president squirm with nerves. With an anguished expression, he clutched the only thing left of Putin's possessions; a pair of booty shorts.

Currently, they stood in a local police interrogation room. The room was cubic with light grey walls with a fake potted plant in the corner. There was a singular table in the middle that was cemented to the floor. There were two chairs on opposite sides of the table. One of the chairs was occupied. The man that Mark had caught was handcuffed to the table. Wounds littered his swollen face turning it from its original pale skin tone to bluish-yellow from all the bruises. A groan of pain left the captive's thin lips, but nobody cared.

Mark slammed his palms down in front of the chained-up man who shivered in fear at the action. Mark Lewis was angry, and it showed in the bulging veins in his arms and neck. Sweat dripped down his skin, and his eyes wide open and crazy. His usual delicate face now looked psychotic. How dare this scoundrel make his glorious president weep. Mark had already been yelling at him for hours, but he refused to crack. He was a second away from strangling him.

Whispering so that the captive couldn't hear, an agent nearby said to President Trump:

"This guy isn't going to spill anytime soon. We should leave him with Mark and go back to the White House. Maybe there will be evidence of whoever took Putin."

Trump frowned and was about to refuse because he wanted to hear that coward rat out who he worked for that wanted to harm his cat-man, but then he heard the last part and reconsidered. He wasn't helping by standing around here. He would do anything to find his eternal love-love muffin.

Everyone besides Mark returned to the White House. Trump hardly noticed that his wife and children weren't there. Why would he? They meant nothing to him in the ocean that was his love for Neko Vladimir Putin. He had a simple lunch all by himself. He remembered the dinner that they shared and the intimate moments. Even just being in the room that Putin had been in before was making Trump teary-eyed again. His eyelashes trembled as teardrops wetted them like dew drops. He didn't want others to see him cry, so he fled back to his room.

With watery eyes, the president slinked back to his bedroom and opened the door. There was a soft thunk as it hit something behind it. Trump paused and wiped the fresh tears from his eyes as the agent's words reappeared in his mind. Clues?

Behind the door was a bag. Donald crouched beside it and opened the bag allowing the faint whiff of Melania's perfume to drift out. The smell only made Donald Trump confused. Why was her stuff in a bag? He dumped all the items out and saw hygiene products, underwear, and some clothes, but then the light from the hallway caught on something causing it to light up. It was a blue card. It didn't seem like a regular card with its glittery effect and glassy feel. Besides the card, there was nothing else that stood out. So, Trump shoved the card into his pants pocket and went to the bathroom to wash his face of tear stains.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In a dark room lit only by a small window, a man sat in front of a desk with his sausage fingers clasped in front of him, eyebrows furrowed in anger. His presence oozed an oppressive dominance. The light from the window only lit up the back of his body; the rest was cloaked in the embrace of shadows. Another willowy man stood opposite him fidgeting apprehensively.