Chapter 42: Rough

“Well?” Davis asked the President as they walked into a clearing in the woods. “I’d say we’re safe enough from prying eyes at this point. So tell me…what exactly is this plan of yours?”

“You’ve heard about Truman’s tournament?”

“Obviously,” Davis replied curtly.

“I want you to enter it.”

Davis stopped walking, staring at the President with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

“…is this some sort of sick joke?” She threw up her hands, showing off her bare hands. “You know very well that the world has never recognized me as a President!”

“I know,” President replied with a smile, “but even if the world refuses to recognize you as a President…I will…”

“What do you—"

Davis stepped back, her eyes widening as a second Presidential Seal formed across the President’s free hand.

“How…how did you…?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the President replied sharply, “all you need to know is that I’m willing to give you this extra Seal in exchange for you joining me in the tournament.” The President extended out their hand. “So…are you in?”

Davis paused for just half a second, then gave a wide grin.

“Very well,” she said, grabbing their outstretched hand, “I shall permit you the honor of joining in my Confederacy.”

Davis’s hand glowed as the President’s Seal evaporated off their body and onto Davis. Davis smiled to herself as she brought the Seal to her face, admiring it from every possible angle.

“Finally…FINALLY!” she exclaimed with a violent cackle. “At long last what is rightfully mine has come to—”

Davis coughed loudly, grasping at her throat as she collapsed to the floor and started twitching uncontrollably on the ground.

“What—” she winced in pain, “What’s…what’s going on here!”

“Oh, right,” the Confederate remarked. “I forgot to mention, but a President’s soul lies within that Seal I just gave you…and that soul of theirs can be a little…rough, to say the least.”

“When…” Davis stopped talking as she grabbed hold of her aching chest, “…when will this horrid pain go away?”

The Confederate gave a light shrug.

“Beats me. It might take a minute, might take forever.”

“For…forever?”

“Yeah…” the Confederate said with a sheepish scratch of their head. “You see, you weren’t exactly the first person I tried teaming up with for this mission…unfortunately though, all my earlier candidates ended up dying on me before their symptoms got any better.”

“And you didn’t think to mention any of this beforehand?” Davis hissed.

“Oh please,” the Confederate replied, looking Davis in her singular eye, “you were always going to take this deal, no matter the risks.”

Davis bit her lip, unable to offer a reply.

“Anyways,” the Confederate remarked as they walked away, “I’ll pass by here every few days or so to make sure you’re still breathing. Best of luck on not dying until then!”

The next day, the Confederate wandered back into the forest carrying a basket of food with them.

The other candidates were in too much pain to eat or drink anything, the Confederate thought, but maybe I can try forcing something down Davis by the third day or so.

“Davis?” the Confederate asked as they stepped into the clearing. “I—”

They stopped in their tracks. Davis stood in front of them, breathing heavily but without any visible signs of pain.

“Incredible…” the Confederate remarked, dropping the basket from their hands. “Absolutely incredible!”

They broke into a round of applause.

“Honestly, I thought that this spirit would never come to accept you; but you’ve actually managed to pull it off!”

The Confederate stopped clapping and lowered down their stance with a grin.

“Now then…let’s see how you two do in a fight!”

Davis stared dumbstruck at the President.

“…huh…?” she asked between heavy gasps of air, “…you’re…kidding...right…?”

The Confederate smirked, then charged up ahead. Davis clicked her tongue.

“So be it,” she grumbled, “Power: Secession!”

Her spirit shot from her body, hurtling towards her opponent and throwing out a punch. The Confederate stepped aside from the attack as Davis’s fist continued shooting forward, landing itself against a nearby tree. The plant burst open as Davis’s punch made contact, bursting it open in a eruption of splinters and shattered wood.

“What the…” Davis’s spirit looked to her hand, then back to the demolished tree. “I’ve never punched that hard in my life…not even when I was in peak condition!”

“Your enhanced strength comes from the EP I lent you,” the Confederate explained, “but don’t get too cocky now,” they said, continuing towards Davis’s physical form, “your body’s wide open!”

The Confederate threw a punch, but Davis’s body raised up its arm, catching their hand. Davis stared at her body, her mouth agape.

“I…” Davis’s spirit stammered, “…I didn’t do that…”

The Confederate blinked for a moment, then broke into hysterical laughter.

“Amazing!” They said, pulling back their fist. “Because your Power separates your soul from your body, the spirit inside the Presidential Seal is able to take control of your unconscious body and instinctively defend itself from incoming attacks!”

“…allowing for a perfect offensive-defensive strategy,” Davis remarked, looking down at her spectral fist. “The perfect marriage of our abilities.”

Her lips curled into a vicious grin.

“Get ready Lincoln,” she exclaimed, looking up to the sky above. “This time, you’re going down!”

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

“So,” Thompson mused back in the present, “one of the Presidents is secretly helping out Davis from behind the scenes…with the true identity of this person being yet another mystery that needs solving…”

“Another mystery?” Truman asked with a frown, “What else is there to solve here?”

“Oh!” Thompson exclaimed with a nervous chuckle. “I was talking about the old mystery of figuring out who JD herself was, that’s all.”

Truman gave a nod, then went back to discussing the situation with the other organizing Presidents.

Jesus! Thompson thought to herself. I nearly blew my cover I’ve been building up here! She looked over to Truman. You just keep on thinking of me as your friendly, energetic sidekick there, Truman…that’s exactly what I need you to do if I want to solve the mystery of who the hell you really are…

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Davis’s Flashback II. The “offensive-defensive strategy” mentioned here is the same name that Jefferson Davis used to describe the Confederacy’s strategy during the Civil War, which roughly consisted of defending the Confederate territory while simultaneously being on the lookout for opportunities to strike into the North.