Chapter 43: Our Union

“I apologize for butting in,” Taft interjected the discussion amongst the organizers regarding Davis. “But we’re way off course here. After all, it doesn’t matter how Davis got her Seal. The only thing that matters is that she didn’t experience Election. Ergo she isn’t a President; ergo she ought to be disqualified as per the rules of the tournament!”

Hayes shook her head.

“I admire your rigid adherence to the rules, Taft, I truly do. But I’m afraid that kicking out Davis now is a very bad idea.”

Taft looked to Hayes in utter disbelief.

“Are you actually saying you want her to stay in the tournament?”

“Trust me,” Hayes replied with a wave of her stubbed arm. “No one wants her out of here more than I do. However, there are real costs with eliminating her from the tournament right now.”

“…Hayes is right,” Truman acknowledged after a moment’s thought. “Davis can be argumentative at the smallest of grievances. If we remove her without any solid evidence to back up our decision, she’ll throw a big old fit in front of everyone, bringing the legitimacy of our entire operation into question! We barely managed to get everyone together as is…a nasty uproar by Davis could very well tear our whole experiment apart.”

“I recognize that removing her could create some issues,” Taft pressed on, “but what about the consequences of keeping her in? If, by some cruel twist of fate, Davis actually won this tournament…” he swallowed hard. “What then, huh? What the hell do we do then!”

“Don’t worry,” Truman said, placing his hand on Taft’s trembling shoulder. “I promise you Davis won’t be winning the tournament.” He grinned widely. “Heck, I can practically guarantee she won’t be making it past the first round!”

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

“Ummm…” Gonzo mumbled as he looked over the empty commentary box with a scratch of his head, “…so it looks like everybody else still isn’t back yet…so uhh, let me give you all another joke to pass the time.”

He coughed into his hand.

“Why did the cameraman cross the road?”

He gave a dramatic pause.

“To get into position for a wide lens shot!”

Not one person in the entire crowd let out so much as a single snicker.

“Uhh okay, how about this one? A cameraman walks into a bar…”

Down in the arena, Jackson sat on a folding chair while Polk wiped the sweat off her brow.

“Of all the blasted people they could have been…” Jackson muttered, glaring across to Davis. “…you know, everything I’ve done…every damn thing I’ve ever done…all of it has been for the sake of our great country. So, for me to see a vile viper like her…one who was a former soldier of mine no less…come in and try to nullify all that we’ve ever accomplished and tear this nation asunder…” Jackson shook her head. “I just can’t stand it…I will not let it be! I swear to the eternal; I shall win this match no matter what!”

“Definitely!” Polk agreed, handing off a bottle of water to Jackson. “All you need to do is keep up the pace you had at the start and you’ll be sure to emerge victorious!”

“You misunderstand me, President Polk,” she said spitting into a bucket. “I’m going to win this match…regardless of the consequences to myself.”

Polk froze stiff as the smile evaporated off her face.

“…General,” Polk spoke cautiously. “I understand how you’re feeling right now…but if you use that here…then I’m afraid you’ll be in no condition to keep on fighting in the second round, let alone in the finals. As such, for the sake of the tournament—”

“The tournament be damned!” she shouted, rising off her chair. “I won’t allow even the slightest possibility of that she-wench taking control of things here!” She marched on as Taft stepped into the arena. “Our union…it must be preserved!”

Thompson stepped into the commentary box, grabbing her mic as she sat down into her seat.

“Okay everyone,” she shouted, “we’re ready to restart the match! But before we do, how about we give a proper introduction to our masked fighter here?”

Thompson gestured over to Davis.

“Our second fighter is the scoundrel who fought against Lincoln’s National Union Party during the Civil War, nearly destroying the nation in the process! She prides herself as a gentleman of the highest caliber, one who’ll never stop fighting until she achieves her grand ambitions! She’s [The Mephistopheles of the South], Jennifer Davis!”

The crowd booed as Davis’s spirit separated out of her body, her spectral form taking up a battle stance as her physical form drooped down. Taft glared at Davis, then turned over to Jackson with a worried expression.

“Don’t worry,” Jackson spoke to Taft, her eyes locked firmly onto Davis. “I’ve got this.”

Taft let out a heavy sigh.

“Let the match…resu—!”

Jackson delivered a thunderous kick to Davis before Taft could finish talking, shooting her across the arena. Davis’s spirit looked to her body in shock, then turned back over to Jackson.

“Executive Power,” Jackson spoke softly as beads of sweat dripped down her forehead in waves, “Trail of Tears.”

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