Chapter 240: The Other Side of the President
A President's Transformation
Following the break-in at FBI headquarters, the news that Amanda Waller, head of A.R.G.U.S., was in a coma after a car accident also spread quickly. The successive occurrence of these two malicious incidents threw the already chaotic White House administration into even greater turmoil.
High-ranking officials constantly argued, and bickering erupted in the Senate. A small number of people, vaguely sensing the truth, turned their scrutinizing gaze toward the Oval Office.
Joel Nash, arguably the weakest President since the founding of the United States!
That "mediator," who only knew how to compromise and seemed cowardly and incompetent, was finally starting to show his teeth. As the saying goes, the longer a person is suppressed, the more violently they erupt. If he successfully secures re-election, many people in the White House will likely face trouble.
Four years ago, Joel Nash was marginalized due to his low approval ratings and lack of support from voters. Most people treated him as a temporary fixture. But now, things were different. His approval rating was nearing 45% and climbing at a respectable rate. His opponent, Thompson, was also exposed as suffering from Alzheimer's disease. One could say victory was virtually guaranteed.
Once successful, this time he would reclaim his authority and become the true master of the White House, rather than the "lucky man" scorned by all sides. At that point, what would he do with absolute power?
Revenge? Definitely.
Eliminating political enemies? Without a doubt.
Starting a war? What President hasn't started a war?
These are all essential traits of an "accomplished" President. But judging by his treatment of Amanda, this seemingly harmless mediator who has been playing the fool seems to be even more ruthless.
Two Souls, One Body
Inside a remote villa in Washington State, Joel Nash, carrying a canvas bag, pushed open the front door and walked into the living room.
In the lavishly decorated room, a handsome white man in his twenties sat cross-legged, his body eerily suspended in mid-air. His eyes were closed, his fingers rested behind his ears, and dark red light occasionally pulsed from his smooth forehead.
A strange, oppressive aura emanated from him.
Joel Nash said nothing, placed the canvas bag on the table, lit a cigar, and smoked with an expressionless face. Soon, a pile of ash lay on the floor, and the young man meditating opened his eyes. His black-gold vertical pupils sometimes expanded and sometimes contracted, looking like a devil from hell—utterly terrifying.
The youth glanced at the canvas bag on the table and said flatly,
"Well done."
Joel Nash sneered. "Don't lose it again. I don't want to clean up your mess every time."
The youth returned the cold laugh. "If you don't want to, let's switch. I'll be the President, and you can be the animal."
"It's your duty to protect me."
"Bullshit. If I hadn't tirelessly covered for you, would you have successfully become President?"
Joel Nash shrugged. "You are me, and I am you. Why bother with such a clear distinction?"
"That's why we need to switch."
The youth extended his tongue and licked his lips, his face contorted with a morbid madness.
"You can experience my hardship, and I can enjoy your pleasures. Take Vanessa, for example... a charming little temptress. It's been years, and she's grown up so much. The moment I see her, I can't restrain my instincts. The will of this body tells me it wants to pin your daughter down and thoroughly violate her. That is my thought, too. What do you think?"
Joel sat on the sofa and said casually, "Just don't kill her. We wouldn't want a political fallout."
"Don't worry, I won't kill anyone. I will thoroughly violate her, torture her body, and enslave her soul, making her desperately fall in love with me. Then, I will bring her to you and let her experience what the wonders of this world truly are."
The youth cackled, his face twisted and chaotic, filled with endless malice.
Joel Nash seemed accustomed to the other's madness. He flicked the cigar butt into the trash can and continued,
"How do you plan to handle Luke Shaw?"
At the mention of the name, the youth's monstrous expression instantly vanished. His eyes narrowed, releasing a chilling murderous intent. "He must die. He must die by my hands. Only by killing him can I erase the humiliation in my heart."
Joel Nash crossed his arms, asking curiously,
"Did he truly defeat you? Even if you only have half my strength, you're still an ancient demon. To be defeated by a foolish, primitive, and cowardly human..."
He let out a cackle. "That is just too interesting. I truly wish I could have seen your pathetic state back then."
"Shut up, you old bastard! My power is stronger than yours. You are the fragmented part."
"Oh really?"
Joel Nash slowly stood up. A mysterious blood-red pattern appeared on his forehead, and an incredibly terrifying aura emanated from his body. The air rippled as if a terrifying force was about to burst forth. In that moment, time seemed to slow down.
"Come on, try it. Let me show you who the boss is."
The youth split his mouth, revealing his fangs. They stared at each other. Even though the difference in aura was significant, the youth refused to take a step back.
Two minutes later, Joel Nash withdrew his power and waved his hand dismissively.
"An idiot is an idiot. No wonder you were defeated by a human. For someone like you who doesn't know when to retreat, the only outcome is death. If it weren't for me, you would have already been reduced to ash."
The youth said coldly, "I am you, and you are me. Don't think you are so clever. That human is not easy to deal with. If he learns your identity, next time, you will be begging me."
"Ridiculous!"
Joel Nash was utterly contemptuous. "A mere human scares you this much? So what if he controls some mysterious flame? I am the President of the United States, the most powerful man on Earth. If I want him dead, there are ten thousand ways to do it."
With that, he unzipped the canvas bag, patted the jar twice, and said,
"Look after it well. Don't lose it again."
The youth snorted heavily. This incident was not his fault. If Joel Nash hadn't had family issues, he wouldn't have been targeted by the FBI. Damn that old bastard! It's always like this. He causes the problem, I take the blame. I'm always the one who suffers, and he's always the one who enjoys the pleasure.
Unwilling fury burned in his heart, gradually transforming into deep malice.
Joel Nash ignored him. After finishing his business, he turned and left.
The black sedan drove into the woods, disappearing onto the sparsely populated road. No one would have imagined that the President of the United States, who was supposedly campaigning hard for the election, would travel alone to such a remote place.
The Coming Storm
FBI headquarters conference room.
The meeting had been underway for five minutes, and still, no one had spoken. The enormous room was utterly silent, quieter than a graveyard.
Jack Harvey's face was dark, his bloodshot eyes sweeping back and forth over the department heads. Due to White House interference, the FBI was not a united front, yet this time, no one dared to speak up.
The weak fear the tough, the tough fear the unreasonable, and the unreasonable fear the desperate!
A desperate Jack Harvey, cornered and furious, was that "desperate" one. Without the stone jar, he had no leverage against the President. Once Nash secured re-election, Harvey would be the first person he dealt with.
This was the ending everyone could foresee, and it was about to happen.
Jack Harvey was finished. He was going to die a terrible death.
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