Richard's Point of View
"This is Michael Groener of DNN news, bringing you more Election 2024 coverage, right up to the minute. This year, both major parties have decided to hold their primaries on different nights. Media personality Aaron Hacker won big two weeks ago in the Republican election. Now, it's the Democrats' turn. We are live as polls close on the east coast and will have results for you as soon as they come in."
Victory lap, or nasty surprise? The polls said they were winning, but the polls had been wrong before. The nail-biting 2016 election, where Ronald Blimp had very nearly secured a path to the White House despite every major analyst predicting a Clayton landslide, was fresh in Richard Fairchild's mind.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Keep a close eye on things, it read.
Unknown contact, of course. Dahlia, his boss, was always in touch, but never from the same number twice.
"Think we'll come out on top tonight?" Dean Cooper asked. Richard hastily put his phone away before anyone could see it.
"We should," he said noncommittally. Richard wasn't sure if this was the outcome Dahlia wanted, but he absolutely needed the "Three Big Costs" pitch to get hired by the campaign.
The Rodriguez-Cooper campaign headquarters was livelier than Richard had ever seen it. Pizza boxes were stacked up, half-full wine bottles were everywhere. The very young, very online campaign workers were actually talking and making eye contact with one another. It was like seeing an entirely new side of them.
"Things are looking good," Dean said. He raised his voice to be heard over the sound of a dozen conversations and DNN blaring at max volume on a huge television. "You really helped us out, Rich. Once we buckled down on messaging our poll numbers started to creep up, even among older voters, just like you predicted. This is a platform I'm very proud of. I know Rebecca thinks so too."
Dean was a really nice guy, and a hard worker. A political campaign had so many moving parts. You had to juggle traditional media, social media, on the ground activism, fundraising, and more. Only Dean really knew where all the bodies were buried. The campaign would go to pieces without him organizing it.
That thought terrified Richard. He couldn't think of somebody who deserved to die less, but his handler didn't care about that. Dean was a load-bearing presence in the RRC campaign, which meant he had to go.
God, I'm a piece of shit.
They'd spent the last month writing out a detailed platform, condensing it into talking points, and coaching Rebecca on how to work her messaging into interviews. Ricard and Dean made a great team. He was the type of guy you'd love to have for a coworker. As for Rebecca...
Rebecca was...well, it was as if she liked the idea of running for president. But the reality? The long hours? The punishing campaign schedule? The relentless grind? She honestly couldn't be bothered. Rodriguez-Cooper might burn out and quit without Richard having to lift a finger, but the Corps wasn't willing to take that chance.
"Where is Rebecca, anyway?" Richard asked. "This is her party."
A hurt look passed over Dean's face before he could school his features. "She's tired. You know how hard she works, Rich. Running for president isn't easy."
Tired? Right. Rebecca was lazy. Getting her to do anything beyond posting on Natter took a mountain of coaxing and nagging. The worst part was her attitude, like they were imposing on her, cramping her style. How the hell do people run for president on accident?
"We've just received the first of the exit polls from the northeastern states. DNN news projects that Congresswoman Rebecca Rodriguez-Cooper will win in Maine, Massachusetts, and Vermon," said the man on the tv.
A cheer went up. People raised their glasses, and one young couple started making out in the corner.
"I think it's going to be a good night," Dean said hopefully.
Thoughts of Connor Oswald bleeding out intruded on Richard's mind, tormenting him with grisly imagery. Connor wasn't a bad guy, and sucked cock like a champion. Alice killed him anyway. Alice would kill anyone the Corps told her to. He wondered how she'd kill Dean. Knife? Ice pick? Something worse? She wouldn't even need to seduce him. The kind, trusting guy would follow Richard into a hotel room without even suspecting foul play. "Hey Dean, follow me, I want to show you something," and BAM! Alice would be strangling him with an electrical cord.
"Are you okay, Rich?" Dean's brow furrowed in concern.
Don't worry about me, buddy. Worry about yourself. "Just nervous about Virginia, I guess. We're neck and neck in the polls there, but it's Jim Paine's home state. Do you really think we can win?"
Dean put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Even if we lose in Virginia, Texas and California will be later tonight. That washes everything else out. Those delegates are ours."
Richard just took Dean's pep talk with good grace and mingled for a while. He poured himself a big glass of wine and tried not to think about what Alice would do to Dean Cooper.
"It's been too close to call, Jeff," he heard from the tv. "But with fifty percent of the counties reporting in, DNN news can now project that Rebecca Rodriguez-Cooper will win her rival Jim Paine's home state of Virginia. Everything indicates that this will be a big night for her."
The place went wild. None of them expected to win in Virginia. Some woman he knew by face but not name patted him on the back a little too roughly and it made him choke his wine.
"Sorry, Rich," she said apologetically before drifting back into the crowd.
That clinched it, Richard realized with growing dread. Super Tuesday alone wouldn't put RRC above the delegate threshold to secure the nomination, but the momentum would be in her favor. If they were going to torpedo her chances, it had to be soon. There was a number he could call to signal the Corps that he had a target. Richard pulled out his phone and stared at it. Better to just get it out of the way, he decided.
Somebody grabbed him from behind and he nearly jumped out of his skin! "What?" His voice had more venom than he intended. Calling in a hit on an innocent man tended to have that effect.
"Sorry, man, I didn't mean to startle you," Dean said kindly. "I just found out where Rebecca is. There's actually a Hacker rally on the other side of town. She stopped to speak to the counter-protestors." The tall man looked oddly proud. "That's pretty presidential, right? Good optics, too. Anyway, things got a little crazy and the police asked her to stay inside a nearby hotel so her presence wouldn't cause a riot. She needs somebody to pick her up. I've got my hands full here. Could you do it?"
Good thing he hadn't managed to actually drink that big glass of wine. He sighed. "Just tell me where to go."
Evening traffic was heavy this Super Tuesday night and the drive to the downtown hotel took over an hour.
She wasn't replying to his texts so Richard got out to look for her in the lobby. "Rebecca!" he called. No answer.
He stood around looking hopeless until a man in a black suit flagged him down. "You here to pick up RRC?" he asked in a businesslike manner.
"Yeah, that's right," Richard confirmed. "Where is she?"
The man hesitated. "A meeting," he said, sounding unsure.
Who the hell was she meeting here? The guy looked like he didn't know much more. Richard waited, glancing over to see if Rebecca was coming out of the elevator every couple of minutes. Finally he spotted-
Aaron Hacker!
The guy was shorter than Dean, but much fitter. His shirt and jacket were tight, hinting at a lithe, well-muscled form. Richard had to stop himself from fantasizing about a literal fascist. That was easy because Rebecca was standing right next to him!
Rebecca, what the fuck! You were meeting your opponent? Is this some kind of illuminati shit? Is the election fixed?
Richard's mind was going a mile a minute. He worked for the literal Dark Brotherhood, but hadn't spent much time thinking about what else could be real if they were.
Rodriguez-Cooper was casually retouching her makeup. "Oh, Aaron, you're so funny," she said playfully.
Bitch, who are you?
He was about to have a panic attack. He was about-
"Are you okay, kid?" asked Adolf Hitler reborn in a concerned voice.
I'm not a kid! he thought. "I'm...fine," he said, not sounding fine at all.
"If you say so," the man didn't press. "Will you be fine from here, Becky?"
Becky?
RRC giggled like a school girl. "More than fine," she replied with easy familiarity.
Hacker nodded absentmindedly and checked his phone. "Oh, and Becky?"
She looked at him expectantly.
Aaron Hacker smiled charmingly. "Congratulations."