Re: Blood and Iron-Chapter 492: The Illusion of Freedom

There were few nations left that could remotely challenge the German Reich, especially with its ironclad Russo-German alliance. But Bruno knew the current balance of power wouldn't last forever.

In the United States, something was beginning to boil. It was hot, unseen, and close to breaking. Yes, Bruno had slapped a leash on the country, or more precisely, on its leadership. But trying to leash America was like collaring a great white shark.

Those aware of the restraint gnawed at it like feral hounds. While those left in ignorance still felt the chain tightening around their throats, but couldn't name the source of their suffocation. Something was deeply wrong in the American heartland. And its people could feel it.

Democracy, any form of it, even dressed as a constitutional republic, was a fragile thing. It seldom lasted. So when the call came from an "old friend," Bruno answered. And now, for the second time in his life, he crossed the Atlantic. This time for the purpose of visiting the White House.

He entered the Oval Office with a gaze of absolute disdain. While President Hughes remained cordial and even greeted him personally going so far as to have even arranged a gift: an ice-cold beverage, offered with a statesman's smile.

Bruno looked down at the glass and then up at the President. Disgust curled on his face.

"What's the matter?" Hughes asked. "You don't like cola?"

Bruno shoved the glass back across the desk like it was radioactive.

"It's not the taste," he said coolly. "It's the poison it's brewed with. You are aware I own a majority stake in that company, yes? Which means I'm very familiar with how toxic that drink really is... Especially with the trace amounts of cocaine still mixed in."

He leaned in, voice tightening.

"I live clean now. A glass of beer with dinner is the only vice that remains in my life, albeit on occasion something stronger if I'm among friends. But you and I are not friends. And I would sooner drink sulfuric acid than pour that poison down my throat."

A pause.

"So unless you're trying to assassinate me, Mr. President, I suggest you take that vile concoction away and get straight to the point."

President Hughes stiffened, lips thinning. Without a word, he removed the glass and reached for something stronger: bourbon. American-made. Poured two fingers each before taking a sip. Bruno did not touch his glass at least not yet.

"I asked you here," Hughes began, "because I had a request. One I didn't trust to a phone line or a diplomatic cable... not after what happened last time."

"This isn't about Mexico," he added quickly. "That war will be over within the year. A new republic will rise, subordinate to Washington, not that you care now that your goons have fulfilled their jobs."

Bruno knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and as such his lips curled into a devilish sneer.

"But you want help," he said. "Let me guess... re-election?"

Hughes exhaled, weary.

"If you already know, must I say it aloud?"

Only once Bruno saw Hughes drink and it having no undesirable effects did he finally lift his own glass and took the slightest of sips. Allowing it to linger on his tongue.

Then came the venom.

"You know what I love about republics like yours?" Bruno said, eyes glowing with mock admiration. "They're corrupt to the marrow. And not subtly so, rather blatantly, proudly, systemically."

He leaned back, savoring every word.

"This could never happen in the Reich. Especially not after our recent anti-corruption reforms. But here? Elections are a circus. Politicians claw for power, and where do they go for it? To the people."

He said the word like it tasted rotten.

"And pardon my bluntness, but the people are fucking retarded."

Hughes winced but said nothing.

"They'll read a single headline... Just the headline, and they will take it as gospel without looking any further into the matter. Then they will spew it to their friends, who will inevitably do the very same. One lie, one flash of outrage, and suddenly you have a storm. A tidal wave of mass hysteria crashing toward the ballot box."

Bruno gestured loosely, letting the bourbon swirl in his glass.

"And where does that storm come from? The media. Which I now own. Which your system allowed me, a foreign monarch, to buy. And now you, the President of the United States are here asking me to lie on your behalf. To burn your enemies in ink and fire."

Bruno let the thought linger for but a single moment all while staring smugly at the man across from him, before resuming his speech.

"I'll do it, of course," Bruno said, tone rich with glee. "Because the devil you know is always better than the devil you don't. And you and I both know that it will be much harder for me to pin your leash on your replacement, another hound who has the gall to think he is a king…

Having said all of this, Bruno rose and placed the remainder of his drink down on the President Hughes' desk, staring down at him as he posed the next question on his mind.

"So, is that all? Because I'd rather not spend a minute longer in this deep-fried cesspit which you call a country."

President Hughes had gotten what he wanted. But the taste in his mouth was bitter. Because everything Bruno said was true.

He silently motioned to the door.

Bruno walked to it without haste. But just before he left, he paused. Glanced over his shoulder.

The glee was gone.

His expression now was cold. Stern.

"The next time you have such a simple request, you'd be wise to call. I don't like having my time wasted. And you're not important enough to warrant another trip across the Atlantic."

He didn't wait for a reply.

Bruno stepped out of the Oval Office and closed the door behind him, leaving the President of the United States to stew in his own sweat.