68. Secret Plans

Reagan walked through the stadium shaking her head.

“What a shame…” she whispered to herself. “What an absolute shame.”

“Don’t be like that, boss!”

Reagan turned to see a man in a blindfold sprinting towards her.

“You did a great job out there!”

“I may have won the match, Bush,” Reagan retorted with a sad snicker, “but Lincoln’s the one who stole the show with that closing act of his.”

“That might be true on the surface,” Jorge Bush placed his hands to his ears, “but behind closed doors, everyone’s whispering about you and only you! Why, I haven’t passed by a single President who wasn’t panicking trying to figure out how you knew so much about Lincoln’s EP!”

Reagan cracked a soft smile.

“Everything is going according to plan then.”

“There you are!”

The Presidents looked over to see a teenager in a baseball uniform jogging to them.

“I told you a thousand times not to leave me behind, Pops!”

“Sorry, Walker,” Bush said, rubbing a hand through his son’s hair, “I was just so excited to congratulate Reagan for her win against a Rushmore!”

“More important than that,” Walker added with a grin, “she’s gone and defeated the most dangerous fighter in the tournament!”

“True,” Bush said, nodding his head. “With Lincoln out of the way, there’s only one President left who can heal themselves between rounds…”

Bush turned to Reagan as a starry maiden formed around her body.

“Enough with the buildup already,” Reagan smiled as her wounds started mending themselves closed, “let’s talk logistics for my next match.”

She stared intently at the Bushes.

“Tell me everything there is to know about Arthur’s EP…”

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

Truman stretched his arms in the commentary box.

“What a day!” he said, looking to his watch. “Anyways, I’ve got some business I need to take care of, so I’ll see you all later.”

“Bye, Truman,” Gonzo said as he got up to leave. “Now it’s time to sit back, relax, and—”

“Don’t be stupid, stupid!” Thompson snapped, grabbing his collar. “We’ve got business of our own to take care of!”

“We do?”

Thompson tilted her head towards Truman as he headed out.

“Oh, right, you want us to follow—”

Gonzo stopped talking as Thompson grabbed his throat.

“Just keep your mouth shut and your camera rolling!”

The duo stepped out of the room, secretly tailing behind Truman as he made his way through the corridors. They kept going for quite some time before Truman suddenly stopped in place.

“Hmm?” he mumbled as he started turning his head around.

Thompson jerked back, leaping behind a corner with Gonzo just in time to avoid being spotted.

Truman kept staring a moment longer, then turned around as a group of figures approached him.

“Hello, hello!” Truman exclaimed as he went up and hugged the leader of the group. “I am so glad to see you, old friend! I wish I didn’t have to meet you all the way out here, but well, you know how it is.”

“Of course,” the man replied, returning Truman’s hug with equal warmth. “It wouldn’t do either of us any good if people saw the two of hanging around in a place like this.”

Thompson and Gonzo peeked around the corner, eyeing Truman’s visitors. They didn’t recognize any of their faces, but one thing was crystal clear.

“These guys…” Thompson muttered as she looked over the group’s flashy jewelry and menacing tattoos, “…are trouble…”

“So Truman,” the leader of the gangsters remarked, “are you still having your usual financial troubles?”

“You know it,” Truman replied with a half-hearted laugh. “Why, I’m ashamed to say that even my own mother is on the brink of losing her family home.”

“Well, that’s just awful to hear!” the mob boss replied. “Tell you what, Truman: I can go ahead and write your mom a check, one with a lot of zeroes on it.”

Truman stopped smiling and narrowed his eyes at the gruff man.

“And what exactly do you want in return?”

“Oh nothing much,” the man grinned. “…all I want…is for you to fix a certain fight…”