One and a half months before the election, every candidate’s office was starting to get busier than the last. Each one strives to do all they can to put their person out in the public.
It was even worse for the current Mayor’s office. With so many prying and expectant eyes around him, he couldn’t even afford to take any misstep. Not that he was trying to.
Inside the office of Mayor Alistair, an uncomfortable silence surrounded everyone. Everyone seed to hold their breath as the news on the television showed the current preference of running mayor in their city.
It was a major poll that took place halfway through the election for the candidates to know their standing. It helps for those who want to rise, but definitely a threat to those at the top
"54%... 40%..."
An agitated voice rose through. Because of it, no one spoke. No one even dared to move.
The ranking continued to play in the background. After a second, the anchor’s voice calmly explained the numbers and their implications to the viewers watching.
But inside the room, it really just made things worse. Especially since everyone already knew the reason behind every number on the screen.
"..."
"..."
"..."
One of the staff mbers slowly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The other slowly looked away and pretended as if they were doing so work.
They all tried to busied themselves as they waited for soone to say sothing... as if they were trying to predict which mont the storm would co.
And then—
"What..." a man’s loud voice bood, shaking the whole conference room.
Alistair stood at the head of the table. One hand resting on the surface, the other holding a stack of printed reports that were now slightly crumpled from his grip.
Alistair suddenly thew it in the air, causing for everyone to flinch.
"What is the aning of this?!"
"..."
No one answered. Not that they don’t want to, but they couldn’t.
"So no one will answer , huh?" Alistair turned around to face them. His eyes were cold and rciless.
"I was fucking told," he continued, his voice loud but filled with restrained anger, "that this election was already secured."
"S-Sir... the lead is still in our favor—"
One of the senior staff mbers finally tried to speak, only to get cut off.
"Forty percent," Alistair cut him off. The number left his mouth like an insult.
"My enemy got 40% and I, 54%," he repeated, slower this ti. "That man was nothing 1 month ago!"
His gaze swept across everyone in the room.
"And now,, do you fucking see that he stands at forty percent? Are you all blind?!"
Alistair let out a humorless scoff in front.
"Tell ," he said once more. "Which one of you is responsible for this failure?"
His rating was still definitely higher, but his opponent grew 40 percent. It was a growth that he didn’t expect.
"Cedric Vuentura..." Alistair muttered the man’s na in a low voice. The sound of it tasted salty on his lips.
His fingers slowly curled on the table. Then suddenly, he slamd his palm down in the table.
*Bang!
The loud sound echoed across the entire room.
A few of the staff mbers visibly flinched at it.
"Why are you all silent? I told you! Explain it to !" Alistair exclaid, his voice shakign now because of fury and annoyance.
"How," he continued, looking at them one by one, "does a nobody climb to forty percent under your watch, huh?"
No one answered imdiately, and their silence only made Alistair’s expression darken.
"Speak!" he roared out loud.
One of the younger analysts nearly jumped. He couldn’t take all the shouting anymore so he decided to answer.
"S-Sir, the surveys show that his recent public appearances have been gaining attention. Especially his community visits. The public is reacting well to his—"
"His what?" Alistair snapped.
The analyst froze.
"H-his image, sir..."
Alistair laughed at that, but it was not a pleasant sound.
"His image, huh?" He leaned forward slightly.
"So you’re telling that while I am sitting here, doing everything to maintain my position, that bastard is walking around shaking hands and stealing my voters?"
"N-No, sir, that’s not what I ant—"
"Then what did you an?" Alistair barked back.
The analyst’s mouth hung open, but nothing ca out of it anymore. He couldn’t answer the question.
Alistair scoffed again and began pacing slowly at the front.
"Am I paying you all," he said, his voice rising with every word, "to sit here and watch him rise?"
"Am I paying you to do nothing?!"
"NO, SIR," all of them answered at once.
"Then why is he at forty percent?!"
"..."
"Sir... we are already preparing counterasures. We’re scheduling more public events, increasing dia exposure, and pushing stronger endorsents. This growth may only be temporary—" One of the senior campaign managers finally stepped forward.
"Temporary?" Alistair looked at the man as if he had just said sothing stupid. "Did you say temporary?"
He suddenly grabbed the nearest folder and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud smack before falling to the floor.
The manager froze.
"If you wait for it before acting," Alistair said coldly, "then what use are you?" Alistair’s chest rose and fell slowly.
"And what about the rumors?" Alistair suddenly asked as his eyes narrowed.
"Did you send out rumors so he could be ruined?"
A woman from the PR team spoke carefully.
"Sir... we attempted to circulate negative narratives, but they didn’t gain traction. In fact, so of them backfired. His team responded quickly and used it to gain sympathy."
The temperature in the room seed to drop.
"So," Alistair said quietly. "You failed at that, too."
No one had the courage to deny those words from him. Because of it, Alistair could only laugh again in a mocking way.
"You’re all fucking useless, I say."
His eyes slowly drifted back to the television screen.
"Steven, co here. I want you to do sothing for ."
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