Coalition of Power

CHAPTER 1

          ---- "What do you have to say regarding your border policies during your term, Mr. President?"

The lights glared, the beams biting the beads of sweat gathering on the President's forehead. The title was grating on his ears, a constant reminder of the role he must maintain.

He had climbed his way up— who cared if he had started standing at the top of the ladder? It was climbing all the same. He was raised to make sure he was well educated on the art of knocking people down and keeping his subordinates on their knees.

"I believe them to be an efficient and manageable way to deal with these people. It is a zero-tolerance policy, and that is how I believe we should run our country." The words were bland on his tongue, a truth spoken over and over, something he believed so offhandedly that the meaning had been lost on him.

There was one constant reminder of his failures. Or, rather, a steady stream that would soon drown him in failure. That epitome of who he sought to destroy stood before him in a fitting suit and a tight scowl.

It was pathetic, really, the way he could not control his anger. He could not remember a time without it— a life with the absence of anger was something he, a man of unfathomable wealth, could not afford.

"Zero-tolerance? You lack empathy, as does your administration," The reply was a quick interruption, cut short by the moderator and the hardly controlled murmurs of the crowd.

The other man on the podium made every logical thought of his crumble beneath his feet like the bones of the people he had clawed through to stand here.

His anger flared, and he could not control his tongue. He turned to the other man, ignoring the moderator.

"If you'd like to discuss personal character, then I would like to digress that you lack sense."

A lazy eye roll was the only acknowledgment for a few long moments. "In comparison to your deteriorating morality, I would say that is the better option."

It was like poking a nest of hornets. Once one thing was said, it was a quick-quipped back and forth, their voices only rising with each snide remark to each other's principles.

"President Trump, Biden. Enough."

The debate floor was silent for a few moments, contrasting with the wild thoughts flying through the President's head. It wasn't enough, just one comment wasn't enough.

He craved to see the other man crumble, to see how his power would be swept from his feet. Biden had already lost, in a sense, becoming second place as a vice President. Trump would not hand him the satisfaction of an eventual victory.

The moderator asked another question, and as Biden formulated his answer, it was as if the words were clawing through Trump's throat, tearing through his skin.

"Your policies are as washed out as your drug-addict son. Is that who we really want running our country? A failure of both a parent and a leader?"

A surge of sadistic power flooded through him, blinding him of the brashness and poor choice of his words. He expected anger in return, for that was all he had been given in the past. Trump was never one to turn from fighting fire with gasoline.

It all came crashing down when he heard unintelligible murmurs rise from the audience. Condescending tones, a few scowls, though it was hard to discern under the glaring lights.

"I apologize that you feel that way."

Trump's hands tightened on the podium, and he swallowed down the dryness of his throat. He refused to let the humiliation burn onto his face, refused to let every watching eye see the product of his regret.