Chapter 17: Mr. Texas

McKinley continued studying the golden necklace around his neck with care.

“I see,” he remarked, “so your EP lets you create little trinkets when you hit someone, huh?” He gave a light shrug. “I guess an ability like that probably has a use or two.”

LBJ snarled.

“Don’t patronize me, punk!” he screamed, swinging forth his fist.

McKinley thrusted his axe forward, meeting and stopping the momentum of LBJ’s punch mid-swing.

“That’s a dirty play,” LBJ grumbled, “but I can play dirtier!”

LBJ twisted up his mouth, grinning as he spat a wad of saliva through the gaps of McKinley’s helmet.

“Heavens!” McKinley exclaimed, shaking out his head. “Why must you keep throwing such disgusting things down my helmet?”

“You think that’s bad?” LBJ cackled, delivering a sidewinder to McKinley’s right arm, forming a golden bracelet around his wrist. “Just wait ‘till I stick Jumbo down there!”

“I’d rather not…” McKinley replied, blindly swinging his axe in front of him.

LBJ stepped back, taking a light cut to his chest as he smashed down onto McKinley’s outstretched arm, forming a golden watch.

JFK gave a soft whistle in the stands.

“Color me surprised,” he remarked. “LBJ’s actually landing a few decent hits!”

“It is impressive,” Ruth Hayes admitted with a sly grin, “but it doesn’t really matter. After all, LBJ can’t harm McKinley as long as Protective Tarriff is active. As such, it’s only a matter of time before LBJ falls victim to the damage he’s gradually accumulating here.”

FDR gave a light snort besides them.

“Hmm?” Hayes asked, “What’s that you’re laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing really,” FDR replied, “just your choice of words.”

“My words?”

“Precisely,” FDR went on, “it is true, of course, that LBJ is accumulating a fair amount of damage as this fight goes on…but it’s equally true that McKinley is accumulating a debt of his own…one who’s magnitude he seems entirely unaware of…”

On the ground, LBJ juked to McKinley’s right. McKinley raised his arm in response, but he moved noticeably slower than before, giving LBJ ample time to step away while delivering a jab to McKinley’s outstretched hand, creating another golden bracelet along his wrist. McKinley brought his arm back, finding it harder to move than it had been just a moment before.

“This feeling…” McKinley muttered, staring at the array of golden ornaments strung along his arm. “These accessories…are they…weighing down my arm?”

LBJ let out a violent laugh.

“You’re right on the money!” LBJ quipped, stepping ahead and smashing McKinley’s into side, creating a golden shoulder pad across his armor. “And money,” he continued, evading McKinley’s sluggish swing, “is always right!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Years ago, FDR looked over the reports across her desk with awe.

“I knew you’d be getting us some gains from our most recent campaign,” she spoke to LBJ, “but I never imagined the numbers would be this good!”

“Thanks boss,” LBJ replied sternly. “Now, regarding my reward…”

“Yes of course!” FDR exclaimed with a smile. “Let me know what you’d like and I’ll be sure to get it for you!”

“Good,” he continued, “because I want another shot at joining your inner circle.”

FDR instantly cooled her friendly smile.

“…you know what that requires, Landon: you have to defeat your state’s champion in a one-on-one match, no exceptions. You’ve already failed to do this once already…and if you fail a second time…”

“I can do it!” LBJ insisted. “I know I lost to Patty O’Daniel last time, but I’d have won the match if I just hadn’t gotten so cocky at the end!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” FDR remarked with a sigh, “and if O’Daniel were still your opponent, then I would gladly give you my blessing to take her on.”

“Hold on a second.” LBJ muttered. “Are you saying O’Daniel ain’t the champion no more?”

FDR shook her head.

“You were probably too busy dealing with the campaign to notice,” she said, sliding a newspaper clipping to LBJ, “but that man has come out of retirement.”

“That man…?”

LBJ picked up the clipping, furrowing his brow as he looked at the image of a slim man with a pipe in his mouth sprawled across the page.

“[Mr. Texas],” LBJ grumbled, “Cole Stevenson.”

“The greatest fighter your state has ever known,” FDR continued. “Needless to say, he managed to defeat O’Daniel without breaking a sweat…and with a man like that as your opponent…” FDR looked back at the picture. “Well…needless to say, your best bet now is to wait a few years until he goes back into retirement.”

LBJ continued staring at Stevenson’s image.

“I might not have a few more years,” he muttered, crumpling the picture and holding it close to his heart. “I don’t care how bad my odds are…I’m taking the match!”

FDR tightened her gaze.

“You say this,” she confirmed, “knowing that failure means losing your one and only shot at advancing in our Party?”

“That’s right! And if I can’t move forward in the Party…then I swear…” LBJ gulped. “…I swear…I’ll retire from fighting altogether!”

FDR leaned back into her chair.

“Well, well,” she remarked, “that’s quite some resolve you’ve got there.”

FDR looked to the ceiling, closed her eyes, then gave a silent nod.

“It shall be done.”

And so, a match between LBJ and Stevenson was hastily arranged. LBJ entered the arena accompanied by a grand marching band playing along with a tremendous fireworks show shooting off across the night sky. Stevenson, in contrast, walked in without any fanfare whatsoever; a look of complete disinterest spread across his face.

The two fighters reached the center of the ring, silently staring each other down as the referee raised his hand into the air.

“Let the match…begin!”

“Take this!” LBJ shouted as he threw out a quick punch.

Stevenson shifted aside, dodging the attack. LBJ followed up with another strike, only for Stevenson to dodge once more. Stevenson shook his head as he easily dodged yet another strike.

“What a waste of my time.”

Stevenson suddenly turned himself around, walking out of the arena as LBJ stood back, staring blankly at him with a look of total disbelief on his face.

“You…” LBJ spoke softly, curling his lips with rage. “You cowardly old piece of crap! Come back here and face me like a man! Or is dodging the only thing you know how to do?”

Stevenson stopped walking.

“Such crude, baseless remarks,” he muttered, “don’t deserve the dignity of a response.”

LBJ looked to Stevenson for a moment, then twisted his frustrated scowl into a delighted grin.

“So, you won’t answer, eh?” he said with a chuckle. “Well now; that certainly sounds like something a dodger would say!”

“I already told you,” Stevenson replied, deepening his frown, “I refuse to answer your questions out of princip—!”

“Say it with me everybody!” LBJ shouted to the crowd with a rhythmic chant. “Dodger, dodger! Stevenson’s a dodge—"

Stevenson slammed into LBJ’s side, his singular strike carrying enough to force to rupture one of LBJ’s kidney’s. LBJ wheezed hard, collapsing to the ground as Stevenson stood tall before him; a tiny, vindictive smirk hanging across Stevenson’s stoic lips.

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McKinley’s Debt. The “debt” that Will McKinley occurs in this fight references the very real financial troubles William McKinley stumbled into by accident: at some point, William McKinley cosigned loans for an old friend Robert Walker, and after the recession of 1893 William was called upon to pay these loans. William thought the amount was around $10,000, but the amount was actually ten times that amount! William nearly dropped out of politics in order to pay back the loans, but several of his wealthy supporters raised enough money to pay off the loans for him.

LBJ Flashback I. This flashback is centered on Lyndon Johnson’s battle for a senate seat against Coke Stevenson. Coke was one of the most popular figures in Texas and had won every previous contest he had entered by huge margins with virtually zero campaigning on his part. Moreover, Lyndon entered the race with the conviction that if he lost, he would leave politics for good.

Lyndon faced a number of setbacks during this critical election of his. In particular, he developed a terrible kidney stone during the campaign. He fought through the pain, going about and smiling as if he was full of energy, all while feeling the terrible pains of kidney colic. Doctors insisted he undergo surgery to remove the stone, but Lyndon refused to do this since the operation would leave him bedridden during the last crucial weeks of the election.

Lyndon was eventually persuaded to be admitted to a hospital where his conditioned worsened further. Moreover, once the press found out about his ailment, Lyndon decided that he should retire from the race, insisting that his aide send out his withdrawal immediately, after which…