“Trump’s got this—he won!” Pat exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice. They were all gathered at an election watch party in Dallas, Texas, where the crew worked at Whatfinger News. It was 8:20 PM, and Trump had swept New Hampshire, Maine, Vermont, and was even leading by five points in Massachusetts. “The people have surely risen to the occasion,” Pat added. In New York, Trump was ahead by six points at the close, but they hadn’t called it yet.
“Hey Luke, how much do you want to bet they steal New York even though they need well over a million fake ballots?” Pat nudged his friend. Luke looked at the screen and the flashing graphics. “This can’t be stolen like 2020,” he replied confidently. “Trump always said, ‘too big to rig.’ He wasn’t lying.” The group exchanged high fives, buzzing with energy. “He might even take New Jersey too. He’s up by five points, this is a verified bloodbath… ” Pat noted, his smile widening.
But then Pat’s face grew more serious. “Never underestimate evil. The Dems and the WEF know their game is over if Trump gets in,” he cautioned, his voice lowering as if he were sharing a well-guarded secret. Beth chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly, “You think they’ll make another attempt on Trump’s life before he’s sworn in?” Pat shook his head, his face darkening. “Never underestimate evil,” he repeated. “Trump is promising a golden age of freedom. Musk is ready to make government efficient, and that’s a death blow to the Democrat machine. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try for him a third time. All it takes is someone in power turning a blind eye—ignoring a building, faking security sweeps. A bomb could go off, and they’d blame Iran. That way they can have yet another forever war to grease the Military Industrial Complex.”
Jenny, who was sitting with Peter, leaned forward. “But wouldn’t that make JD Vance president?” Luke nodded. “If things went by the book, yeah. But I’m with Pat—something doesn’t feel right.” Luke pointed to the screen. “Look at Pennsylvania. Trump is up by nine, even after all the fake ballots that were likely added, but they’re still refusing to call it.” Pat nodded gravely, eyes glued to the screen. “Same with New York and New Jersey. This might be a long night.”
Lisa pulled Luke down beside her on the couch, giving him a reassuring smile. “Come on, hon, have a drink. This is a victory party. You’ll see.” Luke gave her a reluctant smile but took the glass she handed him.
An hour later, more states had reported results. Trump took North Carolina by twelve points, and in Georgia, he was up by nine, even after the usual shenanigans in Fulton County. Things were looking great—too great to fail, it seemed. Even the fake news polls had Trump leading by seven points nationally. The confidence in the room was palpable, especially on the couch where Lisa and Luke sat, their smiles wide.
But on the large sofa across from the big-screen TV, Pat’s unease was growing. His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, scrutinizing the details on the screen. Everyone else was laughing, relaxed. Kathy, sitting next to Pat, kept trying to get his attention, while Ben, lounging on a bean bag nearby, couldn’t help but glance over. Pat finally noticed and grinned wryly. “You gonna keep staring at my girl, Ben? What’s up with that?” Kathy rolled her eyes and grabbed Pat’s arm, trying to calm him. “Stop it, hon. That was ages ago, and you two are friends. Let it go.” Luke shook his head, amused, while Lisa cut in, “Alright, let’s not bring up old drama. Pat, what’s bothering you?”
Pat gestured at the screen, frustration evident. “They should be calling New York, Pennsylvania, and now Michigan for Trump. He’s up by eleven in Michigan. Why are they holding back?” Luke sighed. “You know how the media is—they’re all Democrats. They’ll call wins for Harris in a heartbeat but drag their feet for Trump. They called D.C. in record time,” he added with a chuckle. Kathy laughed, “Well, they took D.C. by 75 points. That’s kind of a no-brainer.” Lisa smiled and looked over at Ben. “Isn’t that what you always say about D.C., Ben? ‘You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.'” The group burst into laughter. Ben grinned, “People vote for their wallets, and D.C. is crawling with deep-state bureaucrats. Last time Biden got like 90%, so 75% for Harris is actually an improvement.”
Pat’s expression remained stern. He looked at each of them, his voice taking on a somber tone. “Guys, something’s not right. I can feel it. They’ve been running their scams for decades—the Marxists have a grip on media, education, and Wall Street. They aren’t going to just let go without a fight. When have Marxists ever left power without violence of some kind?” Kathy tugged his arm gently, trying to reassure him. “Hon, just relax. We’ve got this.” But Pat shook his head, unconvinced. “Remember how they ruined even Star Wars? The original trilogy was about good versus evil, clear as day. By the time they got to the prequels, the Marxist undertones started showing. The Democrats work the same way—they infiltrate and ruin everything. As Trump says, ‘Everything woke turns to shit.’ He’s right.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure Star Wars went Marxist?” Pat turned to him, leaning back in his seat. “Easy. Look at the prequels. The Jedi are depicted as these selfless warriors with no possessions, living for ‘the people.’ Sound familiar? Meanwhile, the bad guys—the Trade Federation, the Techno Union, and so on,—they’re all businessmen. It’s classic Marxism. George Lucas made the good guys communists and the bad guys ‘capitalists.’
Luke nodded slowly, a look of realization crossing his face. “Never thought of it that way. It’s crazy how they work their agenda into everything.” Lisa gave a playful smile, putting air quotes around her words. “All part of their ‘change,’ right?” The room filled with nervous laughter, the weight of Pat’s concerns lingering in the air as they all glanced back at the screen, hoping for the night to end in celebration, not in chaos.
The TV flashed: BREAKING NEWS REPORT.
“A bomb has exploded at Mar-a-Lago in Florida, where President Trump was holding an election watch party. A van parked outside blew up, severely damaging the resort, and there are said to be multiple casualties. The Secret Service has taken control of the area.”
All of them—Ben, Luke, Beth, Pat, Lisa, and Kathy—stared at the screen, frozen. Pat shook his head, his expression darkening. “Unfucking believable. This is the third time. Who wants to bet the Secret Service let it happen again? I wouldn’t be surprised if they had the exact same supervisor there—the one who’s neck-deep in that Marxist DEI nonsense.” He clenched his jaw. “Is Trump okay? That’s all I want to know.”
Lisa’s eyes welled up with tears. Ben, sitting in front of the big screen, never looked away, but those on the sofa behind him could see his fists tightly clenched. Luke’s voice broke the silence, laced with fury. “They’ve gone too far. This is well past the point of no return.”
Pat closed his eyes, his face a mixture of anger and concern. He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “Captain Obvious finally sees what I’ve been saying. If they killed him and somehow manage another steal… we fight. No more bullshit.”
Kathy, usually the voice of reason, leaned in, kissed Pat gently on the cheek, and whispered, “It’s going to be alright, don’t stress.” Pat gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was forced, a mask to hide his rage.
Lisa and Kathy exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing that they needed to defuse the tension. Kathy nodded toward the kitchen. Lisa, who had been holding Luke’s hand, spoke softly. “Who wants something to drink?” She looked around at the others, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her worry. “I think this is going to be a really long night.”
Chapter Links
Chapter 1 page 1
Chapter 1 Page 2
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
