The Putin Rises

"Oh yeah, headshot!" Bernie pumps his fist.
"Nice shootin' Sanders!" says Hilary, giving him a high five.
"Well that settles that," says Biden. "Hopefully Kruz will be a more … agreeable … president … than the late Donald Trump."
They all laugh.
"But holy shit the smell!" spits Reid. "Someone get this body out of here, the smoke smells terrible."
A thick pillar of black cloud is still rising from Trump's neck.
"Hey guys," says Dick Durban. "Isn't it funny how he's still standing up."
"I guess so, who knows?" says Hilary. They're senators not coroners for crying out loud.
"Who cares!" yells Bernie. "Drinks on me!"
Just now the smoke clears.
"Look!" screams Barbara Boxer, pointing and white with terror.
The head on Trump's body is still in tact. His face, however, has been blown away, hanging off in tattered scraps.
Yet peering out from under it …
Biden cries: "It's Putin!"
"Holy shit!" screams Sanders, drops the fired rocket launcher, whips up his AK as gushes of piss stream down his legs.
Gunfire cracks like barking thunder but the bullets stop in midair.
"Putin Perimeter!" the president roars, and a ring of light spreads out like a ripple, engulfs the senate in its hold.
"I … can't move!" says Sanders.
"None of you can. You are in my bounded field. Now, I am President."
"Y-you can't be president!" stammers Dick Durban. "You were'nt born an American citizen."
"Just like the last president." Putin smiles softly, brushing the last seared scraps of Trumpflesh off his face. "The Constitution is null and void. It was the moment I took office."
"Are you mad?" barks Chuck Grassley. "You think you can get away with this? The banks will track you down and kill you, Israel will … "
He stops talking as his head crushes in like a soda can. Blood errupts from eyes and ears, and the new fissures cracking along his collapsing skull vomit out liquid brain.
"Putin Pressure!" the president cries. "Any more objects?"
"W-what are you going to do with us?" whimpers Sanders.
Trump regards him in silence a moment. Then slowly, he removes his tie, begins unbuttoning his shirt.
"For the rest of them, they will all serve their purpose, in serving me. But you, my friend … "
He pulls his shirt open, revealing his bare chest. Embedded in the heaving muscles, the heads of Rand Paul, Ben Carson, and Jeb Bush peer out.
"Aaaaaaaah!" screams Sanders.
"You will join me," says Putin. "Become one with the Putinplex and become subsumed into the collective, whose will is subject to my own."
"Join us Bernie," says Rand.
"Yes, join us," says Ben Carson.
"Shit Bern, I'll tell you what, I never need to be in the same room with Columba again," says Jeb. "It's the best darn thing to ever happen to me in my life!"
"I … " Sanders' voice chokes up. Tears glitter in his eyes. "I want to … oh how I've always wanted to … but … "
Putin's voice is low, and warm. "You're afraid."
Sanders nods his head.
"Afraid of what you may become?"
"I'm afraid … that if I join you … I'll stop being me."
" … You will be what you will be. I only wish to have order again. Yet I will not take away from you your identity, though you tried to to this nation."
Weight of shame hangs Sander's head. His tears stain the floor. "I'm so sorry."
Putin steps forward. "Take my hand."
Sanders raises shining eyes. " … my … "
"Join with me … " His palm's extended.
And every doubt and fear is erased from his mind, the moment he sees his Tsar.
" … Yes sir, Mr. President!"
Their hands clasp. Cables like steel-barbed dendrites erupt from Putin's fingers and plunge into Sander's wrist, invading neurons there and gentrifying neural network.
The barriers of individuality and flesh break down. Like a father holding a son in his arms is Putin. A gaping crack opens in his chest, long vertical mouth, Sanders sliding backwards in.
His skin is devoured, his organs consumed, his blood vessel pathways and long chains of neural networks dissolving, breaking down, being reconstructed.
Putin stands taller and his muscles are noticeably bigger. All the blood is gone, absorbed into his own.
And from his chest, Bernie and the others peer, their heads all laughter and smiles.
"Let's go, men," says Putin as he rebuttons his shirt. "Let's save the world."