Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 356 - 170: If It’s for Survival (Part 3)

But now, Leo Wallace, this young madman from Pittsburgh, had kicked the cage door open. He was pointing to the wilderness outside, telling Smith that *that* was his true domain.

Smith’s mind was racing, calculating every move on the board.

Energy sovereignty meant he could justifiably use the Democratic Party’s green funds to subsidize his coal mines and drilling rigs. The workers would support him, and so would the bosses.

Constitutional immunity meant he could remain the tough conservative. He could still be buddy-buddy with voters at the shooting range, maybe even more beloved than before, because he would be a "lone hero who dared to defy the party’s political correctness."

The Blue-collar Party meant he would be completely free from the arrogant accusations of the Philadelphia elite. He would be standing on the moral high ground, a warrior fighting for survival.

This wasn’t surrender.

This was evolution.

If he really followed this script, he, Ron Smith, would no longer be just an insignificant Republican mayor in northern Pennsylvania.

He would hold absolute authority in Erie.

This power was a hundred times greater—and a hundred times more alluring—than being an obedient mayor.

Smith’s fingers scratched unconsciously at the tabletop, his nails making a faint sound as they scraped across the lacquer.

He felt his aging heart begin to pump with the scalding blood of his youth once more.

He looked up, his eyes now burning with a fire called ambition.

"Leo."

Smith finally spoke.

His voice was a bit hoarse, but it carried a chilling ruthlessness.

"You’re a genius."

Smith stared at Leo, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into a grin.

"Or maybe you’re an absolute Demon."

"But this logic..."

"It’s fucking brilliant."

He stood up and strode over to the floor-to-ceiling window.

He looked out at the city of Pittsburgh, a city that belonged to Leo.

He saw the towering cranes, the bustling streets, the city that had risen from its own ruins.

He had once been jealous of this place, even hated it a little.

But now, he saw another possibility.

Erie could become like this too.

Even stronger.

All he had to do was dare to take that step, to rip that damn party pin from his chest and replace it with a banner of his own.

"If I do this, the state Republican Party committee will definitely expel me."

"I’m counting on it," Leo said with a smile. "Let them expel you. The moment they do, you’ll be the tragic hero, the freedom fighter persecuted by a corrupt system."

"That’s the exact effect we’re going for."

"I get it now."

Smith turned around. With his back to the sun, his face was hidden in shadow, his voice low and powerful.

"That old bastard Warren thought he could strangle me by cutting off my funding."

"But he was wrong."

"All he did was help me snip the leash around my neck."

Smith looked over at Joe Byers, who was still sitting there in a daze.

"Joe, don’t hesitate."

Smith’s tone was decisive.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"We used to be pawns for both parties, for them to move around however they pleased."

"But now, if we follow Leo’s script, we’ll be the ones playing the game."

"Think about it. The moment we announce we’re joining the Democratic Party, the national media will swarm Scranton and Erie. We’ll be the center of attention. We’ll be the bellwether."

"By then, we won’t be the ones begging Harrisburg for money."

"They’ll be the ones on their knees, begging us to take it."

Joe Byers’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently.

He looked at Smith’s fanatical expression, then back at Leo, who looked calm, as if he had everything under control.

He finally understood that there was no turning back.

Besides, this really did look like a golden road to paradise.

"Alright."

Byers gritted his teeth and stood up.

"Then let’s do it."

"I’m also sick and tired of kowtowing to those bureaucrats."

Leo looked at the two mayors.

He had already run the scenarios. When Warren held a knife to their throats and he offered them a gun, the probability of them siding with him—whether out of a desire to survive or a thirst for revenge—was over ninety percent.

However, when Joe Byers’s "Then let’s do it" was finally spoken, Leo felt his tense muscles at last begin to relax.

The heavy pressure that had been building in his chest was completely expelled with that promise.

Relief.

A sense of relief that came from having everything under control washed over him.

This meant that on the rugged political landscape of Pennsylvania, he was finally no longer fighting alone.

He had his own territory, his own power base.

"Welcome aboard, gentlemen."

Leo stood up and adjusted his collar.

"Since we’ve reached an agreement, there’s no need to waste any more time."

"Go back and prepare."

"Make the press conference big. Make it a real spectacle."

"I want to hear the sound of you tearing up your party membership cards echo throughout all of Pennsylvania."

Smith strode forward, extended a large, rough hand, and gripped Leo’s tightly.

This time, his grip was astonishingly strong, as if he were pouring all his stakes into this one handshake.

"Don’t worry, Leo."

Then, another hand reached out.

Joe Byers placed his hand on top of theirs.

The three hands clasped together firmly.

These three hands represented three industrial strongholds, the livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of blue-collar workers, and a torrent powerful enough to wash away the old order.

From this moment on, the entire political landscape of Pennsylvania would be turned upside down.

At that very moment, Roosevelt’s voice rang out in Leo’s mind.

’Look, Leo.’

’You haven’t just won over a few mayors. You’ve forcibly created a new organ within the vast body of the Democratic Party.’

’A political entity that belongs exclusively to the Rust Belt, responsible only to this land.’

’You used that still-developing bill system to string these scattered industrial cities together like beads on a thread. You used the critical moment of the midterm elections to force them onto your bandwagon.’

’Now, on the map of Harrisburg, aside from Philadelphia and the rural areas, a new territory has appeared that no one can ignore.’

’Leo, you are no longer just the Mayor of Pittsburgh.’

Roosevelt’s voice became deep and powerful.

’You are the de facto leader of this Rust Belt.’

’You are the one who controls its industrial lifeblood, the flow of its votes, and its political loyalty.’

’Go, take your new allies, and set this wasteland ablaze.’

Leo released his hand and looked at the two allies who were about to head off to the battlefield.

"Go on back, gentlemen."

"Warren is still waiting to see us make fools of ourselves."

"Let’s give that old bastard a little surprise."

"Show him what a real comeback looks like."

Smith and Byers nodded, grabbed their coats, and strode out of the office.

Leo stood his ground, gazing at the empty doorway.

He knew the fire had been lit.

All that was left was to watch it burn through this wasteland and reduce Warren to ashes.