Chapter 30: Peace Without Victory

A young Taft gritted his teeth as a pair of Wilsons charged at him from across Princeton’s campus.

“You think I can’t stop you?” he bellowed at the top of his lungs as he swung his gavel towards one of the Wilsons.

clone planted her feet firmly to the ground as he swung, slamming her shoulder into the hammer and stopping it mid-swing. The other Wilson swiftly grabbed hold of Taft’s outstretched arm before he could draw it back for another attack, then tossed his massive body over her head, slamming him to the ground. Taft tried lifting up his head, only to fall back down with a shallow moan.

Across the battlefield, Roosevelt took half a step back.

“This is…this is…” he stammered slightly, then twisted his face into a look of pure ecstasy. “Why, this is absolutely fantastic!” he screamed, jumping around with the excitement of a young child. “Oh, I am overjoyed at your Election, Wilson! What else can you do? What heights can you reach?” He brought back his arm as the Wilsons drew closer. “Let’s find out!”

Roosevelt thrusted out his palm. The approaching Wilson caught his hand in her own and twisted her wrist around, spinning Roosevelt about his arm and lifting him off his feet. The airborne Roosevelt flung out his free hand towards his opponent, but not before a second Wilson leapt up in front, dropkicking Roosevelt and shooting him into a neighboring building.

Roosevelt collided with the wall, then shot himself back up as the pair of Wilsons stepped in front of him. Roosevelt swung his arm, but the first Wilson pushed down on the shoulders of the second, leaping over the attack as the other Wilson ducked underneath. The crouching Wilson sprung herself up into an uppercut delivered straight to Roosevelt’s chin as the other slammed her leg onto the top of Roosevelt’s head, the two monstrous attacks crashing simultaneously into opposite ends of his skull.

Roosevelt fell back to the ground, struggling to rise up as the four Wilsons gathered up around him.

“Come…come on!” he screamed through a badly broken jaw, “I can keep going all—”

The Wilson lifted up their arms before smashing their collective fists into Roosevelt’s face, knocking him out cold.

“You said that I lack valor,” she spoke to her downed opponent as her clones dissolved back into her. “Well, you ought to know that valor is not defined by jumping headfirst into battle. No; valor is self-respecting. Valor is circumspect! Valor,” she said looking to her Presidential Seal. “Valor strikes only when it is right to strike.”

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

Back in the present, Roosevelt started up a punch, but the still glowing Wilson slammed into his chest, throwing him off balance.

“Hell yeah!” Eisenhower exclaimed from the stands. “Wilson is actually overpowering Roosevelt here!”

“It’s as shocking as lightning on a rod,” LBJ remarked dryly, “the master technician Wilson has honestly gone and transformed this bout with Roosevelt into a contest of pure strength…”

Wilson kicked Roosevelt in the gut, knocking him back. Roosevelt gritted his teeth, then flung himself up ahead. Wilson punched him directly in the face, but Roosevelt withstood the strike, moving ahead and wrapping his hand around her outstretched arm.

“Seriously,” LBJ continued with a sad shake of his head, “I can’t believe that someone as smart as Wilson could be so damn stupid!”

Roosevelt flung Wilson over his head, slamming her to the ground. Before she could move, Roosevelt raised her up and slammed her down again. He started lifting her up a third time, but Wilson wrapped herself tightly around his arm, squeezing with everything she had, cutting off Roosevelt’s circulation.

Roosvelt gave a soft wince as he tried pulling Wilson away, but Wilson only tightened her grip further, refusing to compromise even a centimeter of her current position. Roosevelt gritted his teeth.

“Fine!” he shouted with a raise of his arm. “If you refuse to budge…than I shall simply bury you in the ground!”

Roosevelt suddenly thrusted his hand along with Wilson straight through the floor beneath them.

“Gahh!” Wilson screamed as her head smashed through the earth, but still she refused to let go.

“Let’s goo!” Roosevelt bellowed as he sprinted ahead with his arm and Wilson still stuck the ground, tearing up the floor as he ran. He continued charging all the way to the edge of the arena, then crashed his arm straight through the sturdy arena wall.

Roosevelt took a few heavy breathes, then pulled back his arm out of the rubble as he felt Wilson finally release her grip and her body plop to the ground. Roosevelt stepped back, rubbing at his battered arm as his blood circulation started returning back to normal.

Then, a rustling noise came from amidst the debris of the broken wall.

“Come now, Roosevelt,” Wilson smirked as she stood up and walked towards him. “Our battle has yet to reach its conclusion.”

Roosevelt jumped back and hastily raised his guard…only for him to lower it back down after taking a closer look at Wilson’s condition.

“…you put up a decent fight, Wilson,” Roosevelt remarked, scanning his opponent’s body covered in bruises and cuts, “but you’re through now.”

“I must admit that your assessment is entirely correct!” Wilson chuckled as streaks of blood trickled down her face. “Yes, I dare say I barely have the strength left to stand. But, as a martial artist…”

She lifted up her fist.

“…even if I have to give my life to it…I shall refuse to back down so long as I possess the strength left to stand!”

She gave a silent grin.

“…that is the only way I can be satisfied by a peace without victory.”

Roosevelt lowered his head down into his chest.

“You know…it took you far too long to get yourself into this fight, Wilson,” he said, raising his head with his biggest grin yet. “But I’m oh so glad you finally did in the end!”

He walked to Wilson, readying up his fist.

“Truly,” Wilson whispered to herself, “there is no more glorious a way to die than in battle.”

“Agreed,” Roosevelt said as he brought back his arm.

The two smiled warmly at each other for a moment. Then, with the same amount of warmth, Roosevelt swung his arm forward with unimaginable levels of force, slamming Wilson back into the wall.

“Time out!” Taft screamed as he rushed over to the two fighters.

He gave a quick check to Wilson’s condition, then slammed his gavel to the ground.

“The match is over!” Taft shouted, his voice drowned out by the roar of the crowd. “The winner, is [The Man in the Arena], Theo Roosevelt!”

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

Wilson wiggled around as she came to atop a hospital bed.

“You finally awake there, sleepyhead?” Eisenhower cooed by Wilson’s side.

“Oh my,” Wilson spoke as she took in the familiar sight of the infirmary around her, “it seems we’ve had a true reversal of circumstances since earlier this morning.”

She looked to her broken hand, then turned to Eisenhower with a somber smile.

“Well little girl; you were right in expecting we should lose the fight. Frankly I did not, but I suppose God knew better than I did after all.”

“And just so you know,” Eisenhower went on, sarcastically leaning in to Wilson’s side, “I am more than happy to be your shoulder to cry on, just like you were for me.”

“Oh, there is nothing to cry about!” Wilson chuckled. “The outcome is God’s will after all. If anything, I feel a great load has been lifted from my tired shoulders.”

Wilson turned to the television in front of her, raising an eyebrow as she looked to the time on display.

“I say,” she spoke with surprise, “shouldn’t the next match have started by now?”

“About that,” Eisenhower remarked, sheepishly scratching the back of her head. “It seems there’s been some…issues…regarding the next set of fighters…”

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Wilson’s Flashback II. The second half of this flashback is based on the 1912 Presidential Election between Woodrow Wilson, William Howard Taft, and Theodore Roosevelt (who ran as a third party candidate due to frustration with Taft). Ultimately Woodrow emerged victorious, in part due to William and Theodore taking votes from each other.

Wilson and Roosevelt. In the novel, the relationship between Willow and Theo is depicted as a friendly rivalry, with the real life relationship of Woodrow and Theodore being more complex. In the beginning, these two of them really did like each other, e.g. with Theodore saying “Woodrow Wilson is a perfect trump. I am overjoyed at his election” upon hearing Woodrow was made head of Princeton. However, their relationship soured after Woodrow entered politics, with Theodore in particular bashing Woodrow for not joining WWI sooner.