“What are they going to do about it, Dansbury? Vote me out of office? Cause I’ve got bad news about that. They can’t,” Moore said through bared teeth.
“A nation who can't legally change their government will always usurp it. We can pretend to be friends and see eye to eye, but this whole scheme that you and your administration has cooked up is not on the list of your policies I agree with. I’d watch your back if I was you,” Dansbury scoffed, pulling himself out of his chair and exiting the office while he glanced at his watch. Moore sighed heavily, grasping the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Mister Moore?” the voice from the two-way communicator squeaked out.
“Yes, Madalyn?” he snapped, keeping his eyes trained on the door.
“Mister Whiteblood is here and says that he would like to speak to you? I just saw your last client exit the office, are we okay to send him in?” Madalyn inquired.
“Whiteblood is here? Send him in,” Moore said quickly. He usually didn’t announce his arrival.
Moore sat up straight and hid his wine glass behind a pile of books on his desk. For a moment, he saw his panicked expression and messy attire in the wine glass’s reflective surface. Straightening his tie, he cleared his throat and clasped his hands on his desk.
“Mister Moore!” Whiteblood laughed as he entered.
“Mister Whiteblood!” Moore exasperated, trying to sound excited to see his guest.
“Cut that out, Reginald,” Whiteblood said.
“Sorry?” Moore questioned.
“The whole ‘sounding excited’ thing,” Whiteblood said, wagging his fingers to form air quotes.
“Sorry, sir.”
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“Now I’m sure you’re questioning why I’m here. Especially why I announced my arrival instead of my usual pop in. The revision that your administration made to the Councilmen has quite frankly upset a lot of the people who believed in the idea. Now, I know it’s nothing you can help or else the order won’t make it past the courts, but surely you understand that your real supporters are demanding some kind of… comeuppance.”
“And what are you demanding?” Moore asked.
“First of all, we’re removing you from the Council. Following your instatement of the remaining members, you will resign from all positions of authority.”
“What? You can’t do that!” Moore protested, bringing himself to his feet.
“Well I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make. You aren’t in charge of this coup. We instated you as the presidential nominee as a figurehead, not the leader.”
“Okay, fine. What else?” Moore asked, settling back into his seat with a groan.
“You will federalize the National Guard and put them under my command using the Insurrection Act.”
“Federalize the Guard. Got it. One problem; how am I meant to federalize anything if I resign from my position of power?” Moore asked, nearly yelling.
“Your speech, where you will resign, isn’t for two more days,” Whiteblood said with a shrug.
President Moore rested his face in his palms for a second, wondering if he’d even made the right call. All he could really think was that it was on him to refuse Whiteblood and the coup’s ideas. Perhaps even refuse to instate the Council.
“What if I don’t?” Moore asked as he raised from his palms. Whiteblood chuckled softly, shaking his head and standing from his seat.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Whiteblood murmured. Suddenly, a red dot appeared on Moore’s chest, shining through the window of the Oval Office. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared wide-eyed at the glowing threat. His reflection in the window matched his expression, and the dot almost glowed brighter on the mirrored image.
“Y-yes sir,” Moore agreed, sinking back down into his chair.
“And one more thing. You won’t be alerting anybody about the federalization of the National Guard. Just silently transfer their power to me.”
“Yes sir,” Moore repeated. The red dot on his chest disappeared, and Whiteblood left the office with a wave and a backhanded smile.
