sbdcsierra Chapter 116 Abyss
Chapter 116 Abyss
Chapter 116 The Abyss (Bonus Chapter for 13000 Monthly Tickets)
It was raining heavily in Harrisburg, and the rainwater trickled down the floor-to-ceiling windows of the State Capitol, blurring the view of the Susquehanna River outside.
Aston Monroe sat behind his desk, a thick document spread out in front of him, densely filled with countless dates, bill numbers, and voting results.
This is Russell Warren's entire voting record in the U.S. Senate.
Monroe held a red marker in his hand and occasionally drew a circle on the document.
"Look here, Paul."
Monroe pointed to one of the lines.
"Warren voted against the amendments to the Clean Water Conservancy Act, arguing that they were to protect Pennsylvania's energy jobs."
Campaign manager Paul Turner, who was standing nearby, came over.
"That was to curry favor with the shale gas companies," Turner added. "They're his big spenders."
“That’s right.” Monroe marked that year with a heavy cross. “But in the eyes of middle-class housewives in the Philadelphia suburbs, this is irrefutable proof that he disregards children’s health and supports polluting companies. Suburban voters today care most about the environment and health, and that’s his Achilles’ heel.”
Monroe turned the page.
"And here, in the vote on women's abortion rights, he voted against it. Typical conservative stance of an older white male."
Monroe shook his head, a hint of disdain in his voice.
"Russell Warren is old; his thinking is still stuck in the Reagan era. He believes he can win elections forever with God, guns, and anti-abortion policies. He has no idea that Pennsylvania's demographics are changing."
"Philadelphia is expanding, and highly educated young people are flocking in who hate Warren's outdated preaching."
Monroe closed the folder and tossed it onto the corner of the table.
"This battle was simpler than I had imagined."
Monroe stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the city in the rain.
"We will portray Warren as a ghost of the past. An old fogey who hinders progress, hates women, and destroys the environment."
"And I, Aston Monroe, am the future."
"I am a rational, inclusive, and technology- and green-embracing new generation leader."
Turner chimed in, "This binary narrative is very effective. Our polling data shows that if we focus on these points, the swing votes in the four key counties surrounding Philadelphia will turn in our favor."
"As for the party primaries—" Monroe turned around, a relaxed expression on her face, "Is that Murphy from Pittsburgh still working on his Rust Belt revival?"
“Yes,” Turner replied. “He and that influencer mayor are going around peddling their $500 million bonds, claiming they’ll rebuild industrial glory.”
"Industrial glory?" Monroe laughed. "What a lovely phrase, like polishing rusty armor in a museum. He wants to win the election with nostalgia? He's forgotten that those factories moved to Vietnam and Mexico long ago; they're not coming back."
"Let him do whatever he wants. When he realizes that five hundred million dollars can't buy back a bygone era, he'll naturally back down."
Monroe sat back down in his chair and opened another document containing the guest list for the fundraising dinner.
In his view, the outcome was already decided.
He only needed to follow the procedures step by step and sit down in the senator's seat that had been reserved for him.
At the same time.
North of Washington, D.C., in the wealthy Chevy Chase neighborhood of Maryland.
In a red-brick manor hidden behind towering ancient trees, the fire in the fireplace is burning brightly.
Russell Warren sat in a leather armchair in his study.
He is 68 years old this year, with a full head of silver hair and deep wrinkles on his face.
As a senior Republican senator who has been a fixture in Pennsylvania politics for 30 years, he is a key member of the Senate Armed Services Committee and the Energy Committee.
He was one of the most powerful men in Washington.
On the desk in front of him were two file folders.
A document was labeled "Aston Monroe".
Another one was addressed to "John Murphy".
Warren was holding a glass of bourbon whiskey.
Standing opposite him was his chief political advisor, a lean man named Karl Roves.
Wearing a dark gray turtleneck sweater and with a sinister look in his eyes, Roves is known as the "Black Cardinal" of the Republican Party.
"Boss, Monroe's strategy is very clear."
Roves pointed to the file folder on the left.
"He will play the identity politics card, the environmental card, the women's rights card; he wants to wage a culture war against you in the suburbs of Philadelphia."
Warren snorted and took a sip of his drink.
"That young master from Philadelphia, that's all he's capable of."
Warren's voice was deep and hoarse.
"He thought Pennsylvania was Philadelphia; he thought that as long as he pleased those people drinking lattes and reading The New York Times..."
The middle class will win.
"He forgot that there are two million angry white blue-collar workers in this state. They live in the folds of the Appalachian Mountains, next to abandoned coal mines."
"They don't care if the polar bears have nowhere to live; they only care about next month's electricity bill."
"The more Monroe emphasizes environmental protection, the more he pushes these people toward us."
Warren put down Monroe's file, showing no interest whatsoever in opening it.
"I know all his tricks. As long as you portray him as a liberal elite who doesn't understand the hardships of ordinary people, a wealthy Philadelphia man who wants to take your gun and hamburger, the sea of red in the middle will drown him out."
Warren reached for the file folder on his right.
John Murphy.
He opened the file and took out a photo of Murphy during a recent news interview.
Warren stared at the photo for a long time.
"But this Murphy—"
Warren frowned.
"Karl, don't you think he's changed a bit lately?"
"Yes, boss."
Roves nodded, his expression turning serious.
"That's exactly what I wanted to report to you."
"John Murphy, a moderate who had been virtually invisible in the House of Representatives for the past eight years, has changed completely in the last three months."
He only talks about one thing: work.
Roves presented a chart analyzing the latest polling data.
"Look here, boss. This is data from western Pennsylvania, specifically Westmoreland County and Washington County, our traditional Republican strongholds."
"Over the past month, our support among white working-class men in these areas has dropped by five percentage points."
Warren's pupils contracted sharply.
"Why?" Warren asked.
"Because Murphy is infiltrating our core base."
Roves pointed to Pittsburgh on the map.
"He proposed a $500 million bond plan to expand the inland port. He told the workers that the money would bring thousands of high-paying, union-protected manufacturing jobs."
"He even started speaking in a very inflammatory populist language."
He said, "We will sell Pennsylvania's energy and steel to the whole world. We will reclaim our industrial dignity."
Roves looked up at Warren.
"Boss, that was originally our line."
"He stole our script."
"What's even more frightening is that he's not just making empty promises. News from Pittsburgh indicates that the port project is real, and Morganfield Holdings has already entered the picture."
"This means that he can come up with real money to fulfill his promise."
Warren put down his glass.
He stood up, walked to the fireplace, and looked at the flickering flames.
As an old fox, he sensed danger.
Traditional Democrats like Monroe are not scary because they are competing with Republicans for two completely different groups of people.
But Murphy's current approach is undermining the Republican Party.
He was trying to harness the anger emanating from the rust belt.
This anger, once the Republican Party's sharpest weapon, is now in the hands of its opponents.
"Murphy, that nice guy, wouldn't have come up with such a trick."
Warren turned away from the firelight, his face appearing particularly sinister in the shadows.
"He lacks the courage and the ability to execute."
"Who is advising him?"
"Who is managing this so-called $500 million plan for him?"
Roffs took a photograph out of his briefcase.
The photo shows a young man standing on the steps of Pittsburgh City Hall, facing an angry crowd, with a stern expression.
"Leo Wallace".
Roffs uttered the name.
"The new mayor of Pittsburgh is thirty years old and graduated from the Department of History at the University of Pittsburgh."
"Two years ago, he was just a poor student working in a coffee shop, but in six months he turned Pittsburgh's political landscape upside down."
"He defeated former mayor Cartwright and even got the city council to pass a massive budget bill, which included this $500 million plan."
"All the intelligence points to one thing: Murphy's current campaign strategy, the so-called Rust Belt New Deal, is entirely the work of this young man."
"Even Morganfield's turnaround was orchestrated by this young man."
Warren took the photo.
He looked into Leo's young yet ambitious eyes.
"Thirty years old —"
Warren muttered to himself.
"What an enviable age."
"But it's also such a dangerous age."
Warren threw the photo into the fireplace.
The flames instantly engulfed the photo; Leo's face twisted and charred in the flames before finally turning to ashes.
"Karl, we need to adjust our strategy."
Warren stared at the flames, his voice icy.
"Monroe is a dead man, ignore him. No matter how high he jumps in Philadelphia, he can't get over the walls of that elite circle."
"But this Murphy, and the Wallace behind him, they are the virus."
"They are spreading an extremely dangerous ideology—left-wing populism."
"If they ignite this sentiment in Pennsylvania, if they prove that the Democratic Party can really bring jobs to blue-collar workers."
"Then our entire base in the Midwest will be shaken."
"This isn't just about my seat; it's about the future of the entire Republican Party."
Warren turned around, walked back to his desk, and a hint of murderous intent flashed in his eyes.
"Check out Charles Wallace's background."
"Investigate his past, check his school records, and investigate his family."
"I don't believe someone who can cause such a commotion at the age of thirty is clean."
"If you can't find a stain, then make one for him."
"I want to take down Murphy's strategist before his campaign really gains momentum."
"Do you understand?"
"Understood, boss." Roves closed the folder. "I'll send someone to Pittsburgh. That young man will soon find out what happens when you offend a bigwig in the Senate."
Warren picked up his glass again and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the night in Washington was deep.
Hundreds of miles away in Pittsburgh, a new storm is brewing.
The young mayor thought he had won.
But he didn't know that when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.
Russell Warren is that abyss.
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