Swyke’s death would mean nothing, in the end, after all.
Derex recounted his store of poison, rats, and TNT, frowning at it. He had to aim higher, for the greater good. That dastard had made a vicious blow to the party; revenge was in order. He had to hit the opposition where it hurt most.
This was going to hurt Derex too, but damn, sometimes life was that way, Derex thought. I’d best add a power saw to the mix. Good thing I won’t have to clean this all up.
So far tickets were selling well, but he was not sure if he would book as many as Swyke had. There had to be some specialty that would draw a larger crowd. Time was running out; the election was Friday. Rixey had to win, or the nation would go to the dirty finks of the Tan party. He couldn’t let that happen. He would do what he had to to ensure the victory of the Right.
Yes, his Greys would prosper in the end. Just look at how the number of party members was dropping! What a fundraiser! He was inspired and proud.
The Greys had the winning spirit.