Chapter 18: Landslide

“D-down!” the referee screamed as LBJ crashed onto the floor, drool pouring out his mouth. “We…we will now give the fighter a few minutes to see if they can keep fighting!”

“Give him the whole damn day if you want,” Stevenson snorted, turning to walk out the arena, “even a real cowboy wouldn’t come back after taking a hit like that.”

Stevenson took a step forward, then froze still.

“…I’ll be,” he muttered, turning to see LBJ inching himself off the ground, “guess I’ve gotten soft with age.”

LBJ panted heavily, forcing a smile across his sweating face.

“Dodger…” he gasped through spats of air. “Stevenson’s a dodger!”

Stevenson shook his head as LBJ came at him hurling a desperate punch. Stevenson stepped aside, dodging the fist before delivering a sidewinder to LBJ’s stomach.

“Dodger!” LBJ screamed through the pain and swung his other fist, “Stevenson’s a dodger!”

Stevenson ducked underneath the attack and started a counter…only to stop himself as the crowd began chanting in unison around him.

“Dodger, dodger!” the audience squealed with delight, “Stevenson’s a dodger!”

Stevenson stepped back, taking in their screams as LBJ curled into himself, trying to catch his breath.

“Dodger, dodger!” the group continued on, “Stevenson’s a dodger!”

Stevenson gritted his teeth.

“…fine…” he muttered, turning to LBJ, bringing his arms out to his sides; his eyes begging LBJ to try and strike him down. “I’ll prove I ain’t no dodger.”

LBJ slowly stood up straight, the faded smile on his face tightening into a wide grin.

“Now we’re talking…” LBJ replied, drawing back both his arms as far as he could take them. “Eat…THIS!”

LBJ let loose the biggest attack of his entire life; pouring every ounce of his strength into the pair of punches landing squarely against the rugged shoulders of Cole Stevenson.

But once again, [Mr. Texas] remained unmoved.

“Ha!” Stevenson screeched with uncharacteristic delight, looking to the crowd with a snide grin. “Are you all happy n—?”

Stevenson stopped talking as LBJ wrapped his hands around Stevenson’s shoulders and threw his arms out to the side, tossing Stevenson across the arena. Stevenson landed safely on the ground, his expression unchanged.

“Still got some fight left in ya?” Stevenson asked.

He stepped forward, then halted his advance.

“What…” he glanced down, noticing a strange, metallic box sticking out of the dirt just below his feet. “What in tarna—?”

In an instant, the earth beneath Stevenson burst open in a fiery explosion, slamming him to the ground. The crowd watched in disbelief as Stevenson coughed on the floor, his body singed by flames. Even the referee couldn’t help but turn his gaze to stare out at the remnants the explosion, with him coming back to his senses only after someone started loudly clearing their throat besides him.

“Ehem,” LBJ went on, twirling his finger in the air. The referee shook his head and raised their hand into the air.

“We find Stevenson unable to continue the match!” he spoke hastily, “The winner, is Landon B. Johnson!”

“What?” Stevenson exclaimed, shooting his burning body off the ground. “You can’t be serious here!” Stevenson pointed to the metal bomb fragment scattered across the floor. “I don’t know what all happened, but it’s obviously foul play on LBJ’s part! More than that,” he stared down his opponent, “I’m plenty ready to keep up the fight!”

“Sorry,” the referee said with a frantic wave of his arms, “but the results have already been sent along! I couldn’t change the outcome now even if I wanted to.”

As the referee raised their arms, a sleeve fell down his wrist, revealing a gold-plated watch with the letters “LBJ” etched into its side. The referee retracted his arm, pulling up his sleeve as Stevenson let out a terrible growl.

“…so that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” Stevenson spat, looking to LBJ. “I’d ask how you could sleep at night, knowing all the crimes you’ve committed to obtain this `landslide’ victory of yours…” he shook his head. “…but the answer’s obvious, ain’t it?”

LBJ gave a malicious grin.

“Indeed it is! I’m going to sleep…” he continued, blatantly flaunting the detonator in his hands for all to see, “…like a goddamn baby!”

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

In the present, McKinley gave a scowl as LBJ continued dodging his swings while adding even more golden items to his glistening right arm.

“Very well!” McKinley exclaimed as he stomped his foot down and started spinning his body around. “If you insist on only targeting my right, then I shall simply meet you with my left!”

McKinley gave a sly smile as he spun, only to drop it as he spotted the vicious grin spread over LBJ’s lips.

“Wrong move, punk!”

Before McKinley could finish the spin, LBJ slammed his body forward, smashing into McKinley and forcing his unbalanced legs to stagger back.

“Got ya!” LBJ shouted, striking McKinley’s chest and enlarging the golden cross around his neck even further.

McKinley stepped away from his opponent, panting heavily as he struggled to keep his right arm afloat. He looked to his arm, back to LBJ, then let out a sigh.

“You’ve put up a good fight…now, only one option lays before me…”

McKinley tightened his grip and took a bold step forward. He raised his heavily weighted right arm high into the air, then swung down his silver axe to LBJ.

“Come on!” LBJ chuckled while evading the slowed strike. “It’s like you’re not even trying to—”

“Rather than listen to you blab on for a second longer,” McKinley shouted as he lifted his golden axe into the air, “I would happily suffer the loss of my good right arm!”

McKinley swung his glistening weapon down, slicing straight through his outstretched arm. LBJ stood stunned, silently watching as McKinley’s arm dropped to the ground.

“Jesus—” LBJ started to speak, but McKinley rotated his golden axe around, slashing it across LBJ’s exposed chest before he had the chance to move.

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LBJ Flashback II. …after deciding to retire from the race, Lyndon was eventually convinced to hold off on his decision until his wife flew in to meet him. By the time she got there Lyndon had calmed down enough to stick with the race. He still refused to undergo an operation, and instead insisted on undergoing a highly risky procedure to remove the stone, which just barely worked out in the end.

From there Lyndon would fight a fierce campaign with nearly every odd stacked against him, eventually winning against Coke Stevenson after pouring an unprecedented amount of money into the campaign and utilizing a number of dirty tactics (such as pressing Coke to take a stand on the Taft-Hartley Act, knowing that Coke would refuse to answer his attacks out of pride, and thereby making it look like he was dodging the question).

Most damning of all, Lyndon very blatantly bought the election in the end, as was made evident by a set of 200 new votes (written in alphabetical order and with identical handwriting) suddenly appearing after the votes had previously been announced, conveniently giving Lyndon a narrow win. This clear display of corruption would later become the source of his nickname “Landslide Lyndon,” a name which Lyndon himself initially went out of his way to brag about.