Long Live L'Manberg

Chapter 30: Don't Ask Questions

Tommy's legs grew heavy as he sulked to the microphone. He tried so hard to grasp it, but the sweat on his palms caused his hands to slip. His attempt at a celebrity endorsement had entirely blown up in his face, and now he stood empty-handed in front of a crowd. What was he to say? 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe it is my duty to apologize to you all for yet another unfortunate circumstance today." 

The audience began to stir with uncertainty. Today seemed to be full of nothing but problems and inconveniences. He coughed awkwardly, picking his fingernails instead of making eye contact with the people he was speaking to.

"Initially, I had promised our supporters the endorsement of a celebrity." Tommy's voice trailed off as his mouth went dry, his face cherry red in humiliation. How could he have been so reckless as to rely on such a slim possibility of success? Wilbur, realizing the situation at hand, swooped in beside his brother. Unlike Tommy who often thought in wild ideals, Wilbur was a realist. Naturally, he had prepared for something like this to happen.

"What Tommy is trying to say, ladies and gentlemen, is that in the absence of our previous endorsement, we instead decided to use this opportunity to introduce a new voice into this election!" This suddenly caught the attention of many. Who was this last-minute endorsement, and how would they be enough to top a celebrity?

 "Everyone, I would like you to give a big round of applause for our new endorsement, JSchlatt!"

Wilbur gestured to the side of the stage where the curtain draped slightly, a pool of shadows sweeping over the corner. At those words, a man dressed in a lavish black suit emerged from backstage. Thick, brown locks were swept cleanly along his forehead, not a flyway in sight. His caliber of grooming made him look almost artificial. Two pointed ram horns protruded outward from each side of his head, a detail that was very difficult to miss. The stranger effortlessly held the attention of everyone at the event, a sort of charismatic aura radiating from him. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. Who was this man? More importantly, why did Wilbur select him as an endorsement? A few scattered camera flashes echoed across the spectators. The man gave a sneer, adjusting the microphone to meet his towering height.

"You know," Schlatt got close to the microphone, his dark eyes slowly shifting upward. "Democracy is severely overrated."

Displeased murmurs rapidly spread through the civilians. Tommy's heart spiked, his chest tensing up. Whatever stunt Schlatt was pulling was not planned in the slightest. If their supposed endorsement was against the practice of democracy, what would that say about them? Tommy gave a brief side glance to Wilbur who was equally mortified, fear flashing across his face.

"Judging by the shitfaced looks I'm getting, I take it none of you really know who I am," Schlatt smirked as he observed the crowd beneath him. The people stared blankly in response, unsure of how to respond to his cynical remark.

"Well, I'll put it this way," his smirk turned into a grin as he spoke with relaxed confidence. "I'm running for president."

Without a second to lose, Wilbur fled up to the microphone stand and snatched it away. The audience exploded with bewilderment, shouts and complaints being thrown left and right. Wilbur's blood ran cold, eyes flickering with hatred as he lowly muttered under his breath. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Unbothered, Schlatt shrugged as he stared at Wilbur with no remorse. He knew very well he was ultimately their last hope, and he had just willingly annihilated their entire alliance in a nanosecond. "Just exercising my right of free speech."

Wilbur scowled, not even wanting to look him in the eye as he grumbled lowly. "I hope you realize what you just fucking did." Schlatt stood still, his mouth curving into a smug grin.

"May the best man win."

The urge to intrude overwhelmed Tommy as he watched Wilbur frantically attempt to control the outrage. The boy meandered towards center stage, gulping as his eyes briefly met with Schlatt. His heart leaped out of his chest, nostrils flaring as he stood toe-to-toe with the man that possibly just ruined his chances of a future.

"You need to leave, Schlatt," Tommy barked as he bore his teeth at the man in front of him. Who did he think he was barging in and making things significantly worse? 

"That's no way to speak to a presidential candidate, kid." 

Tommy whipped his head around to see Quackity standing dangerously close to his shoulder. He stumbled backward in fear and accidentally tipped the microphone stand on the stage floor, the shrill sound of feedback causing everyone to cover their ears. Wilbur fell to his knees and grasped the microphone, suddenly rising to his feet as he raised his hand in the air. "I apologize for the disturbance, ladies and gentlemen!  We will be back in a few moments!" 

At those words, the curtain fell from atop the stage casting a dark shadow on each of the presidential candidates. The stage was pitch black with the exception of slivers of light shining through from above. Tension was high in the air, the muffled sounds of confusion coming from outside the curtain. Wilbur firmly pressed his lips together as he jabbed an accusatory finger into Schlatt's chest.

"I could fucking kill you."