Fear spreads fast in Washington.
Last night, I was a playboy arms dealer who somehow conned his way into the Oval Office. This morning, I'm the man who prevented a nuclear catastrophe before his first lunch as President.
The people on my side? They're thrilled. The ones who wanted me to fail? They're terrified. And everyone else? They're trying to figure out how to stab me in the back without getting their hands cut off.
---
By noon, the cracks start showing.
I'm in the Oval Office going through the morning intelligence brief when my Chief of Staff sticks his head in.
"Sir, we're already seeing unusual activity in the Senate. Quiet meetings. Closed doors."
I don't even look up. "Let me guess — they're drafting bills to limit executive power, trying to box me in before I get comfortable?"
He hesitates. "…Yes, sir."
I sign the briefing and toss it aside. "Good. Fear makes people predictable. They'll move faster, make mistakes. Get me a list of everyone who's meeting behind closed doors. I want to know which wolves are baring their teeth first."
---
The press, naturally, is in a frenzy.
CNN calls me "recklessly effective."
Fox News has already crowned me "the savior of American foreign policy."
MSNBC says I'm "a dangerous mix of competence and arrogance."
They're all right, and they're all wrong.
I know exactly what I'm doing — and I'm enjoying every second of it.
---
That afternoon, I meet with my cabinet.
The Secretary of State looks like she hasn't slept in 24 hours. "Mr. President, our allies are… concerned. Several NATO countries are requesting assurance that your administration will continue to support multilateral diplomacy."
I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers. "Tell them we'll support anyone who supports us. And remind them that the militia we just disarmed? They were using weapons we sold them years ago. Our arsenal keeps the world in check, not the other way around."
The Secretary of Defense clears his throat. "Sir, intelligence suggests that at least three hostile states are probing our cyber defenses, likely in response to last night's incident."
I smile thinly. "Then give them a little something to find — a honeypot program that tracks every keystroke and traces it back to the source. When they realize they've been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, we'll make them sweat."
---
That evening, a closed-door meeting on Capitol Hill leaks to the press.
Apparently, half a dozen senior senators are openly discussing "contingency plans" in case I become "a threat to national stability."
I pour myself a whiskey, sink into the Oval Office couch, and laugh until my sides hurt.
"Threat to stability"?
They don't realize yet — I am the stability. I own the weapons that keep this country on top. And I just proved I'm willing to use that leverage.
---
Later that night, I get a call from my old friend Viktor Kross — billionaire defense contractor, occasional drinking buddy, and the kind of man who knows where more than a few bodies are buried.
"Colton," he says in that smooth Russian accent of his, "you have made quite an impression. The markets are nervous, but Rockwell Dynamics stock? Skyrocketing. You are now officially the most dangerous man in the world."
"Tell me something I don't know," I reply, sipping my drink.
"Ah, but with danger comes… opportunity. Several nations are already reconsidering their arms contracts. They want protection — your protection."
I grin. "Send them my way. Tell them the first consultation is free."
---
By the time I hang up, my mind is already three steps ahead.
The wolves think they're circling me. What they don't realize is that I'm not prey. I'm the one holding the rifle.
Every senator plotting my downfall, every foreign power probing my defenses, every journalist trying to paint me as the next great American villain — they're all playing checkers while I'm building the chessboard.
---
Tomorrow, I'll give them something new to fear.
Not because I have to.
Because watching them squirm is the most fun I've had since winning the election.