North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 174 The New Speaker's So-Called Power! (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

An underground base somewhere in Washington, D.C.

As America's capital and national administrative center, this city, though pitifully small in size and not even ranking among the largest in the United States, is riddled with underground bunkers that serve as emergency command centers and security outposts for various law enforcement agencies.

Only a handful of agencies have underground bases in Washington, D.C., and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) is undoubtedly one of them.

The elevator descended all the way down, only coming to a slow stop a hundred meters underground.

The door opened, and Scarlett, the red-haired woman who had appeared in Eastern Europe before, walked out absentmindedly.

The staff around her smiled and greeted her, but she just stared at the ground with her brows furrowed, looking preoccupied.

Seeing Scarlett, whose personality is usually as fiery as her hair color, acting so strangely today, many employees couldn't help but whisper among themselves.

"What's wrong with Scarlett? She's been like this ever since she came back from the mission in Eastern Europe..."

"Shh... They failed on their first mission, they must be furious, keep your voice down."

"Tsk, is that Rorschach Butcher really that powerful? Even with DHS, CTU, and CIA working together, they couldn't take him down?"

"I heard it's because the CIA dragged things down, but who knows..."

Because the information about nanobombs was classified, these ordinary employees assumed the last mission was to capture Rorschach Butcher in Eastern Europe. But judging from yesterday's Statue of Liberty attack, that guy was clearly still alive and kicking, causing quite a stir in New York.

Ignoring the whispers around her, Scarlett strode to an office, took two deep breaths, and knocked on the door.

"Enter."

She pushed open the door and entered, glancing at the woman behind the table who was reviewing documents, managing a weak smile.

"Director, I..."

“You’ve been calling me quite often lately, Scarlett.” Homeland Security Director Janet put down her documents, her eyes already showing impatience.

For the past week, Scarlett has been contacting her almost every day, always asking the same question—how exactly she was recruited by the DHS.

"Director, I've been looking through the photos of the orphanage and the school's graduation albums these past few days, as you instructed, but..."

Scarlett began with difficulty, "The friends and classmates listed above seem more and more unfamiliar... It's as if I've only met them once and had no connection with them whatsoever. Are they really my classmates? Did I... really grow up in an orphanage?"

"if not?"

Janet, with her legs crossed, glanced at the girl who was caught in a dilemma, slowly lit a cigarette, and exhaled a wisp of smoke.
"You were selected by the Department of Homeland Security when you were twelve, the government sponsored your college education, and you were fortunate enough to join the Enhanced Soldier program. These are all written records. What, do you think the Department of Homeland Security's files would be falsified?"

“I just feel my memory is getting blurry,” Scarlett said, pressing her temples in pain.

“Listen, Scarlett.”

Janet coldly watched her subordinate, who had barged into her office for several days in a row over trivial matters.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be arguing about these pointless issues. The country has invested huge resources in you, the war on terror in the Middle East is escalating, insurgency is brewing in Africa, and there’s a serial terrorist wanted in New York.”

She slammed her hand on the table and stood up abruptly: "Instead of thinking about protecting national security, you're here questioning your own life? You're so disappointing."

With that, she pointed and said, "Your position as deputy commander of the action team is temporarily suspended for reflection. Leave your badge behind. Report back to headquarters before tonight!"

Janet stubbed out her cigarette, grabbed her coat hanger, gave Scarlett one last glare, and slammed the door shut as she left.

There is an important election meeting in Parliament today, and as the Director of Homeland Security, she must attend as an observer.

In the empty office, Scarlett sighed and slowly removed the blue shield emblem from her suit.

Just as he was about to put it down, the image of Slovakia flashed before his eyes again—the face of the red-haired girl in the pendant swaying around Rorschach's neck.

Every time she thinks of that photo, her head throbs with pain, but what comes to mind is another life: a mountain farm, her grandfather herding sheep in the morning light, her grandmother asking her what she wanted to eat every day, and her father always ruffling her hair.
Am I really an orphan?

After a long silence, she suddenly slammed the shield onto the table!
"Crack!"

The metal badge representing the U.S. Department of Homeland Security shattered upon impact.

Scarlett grabbed her red hair and tied it into a neat ponytail; the confusion in her eyes had been replaced by determination.

Since the authorities couldn't give her an answer, she decided to go to New York herself to find Rorschach and get the truth out of him!

"Where are you going?" The staff member in the corridor was intimidated by her sharp demeanor.

"New York!"

The figure with flowing red hair disappeared into the elevator without looking back.

(Scarlett Johansson, the red-haired woman, from the movie "G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra")
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House of Parliament.

A House of Representatives meeting is underway without media or city representatives.

The president, vice president, secretary of state, attorney general, defense secretary, and half of the cabinet members were present to elect a new speaker of the House of Representatives, a month after Pella's assassination.

After weeks of intense intra-party wrangling, the cabinet finally reached a consensus.

At this moment, 435 members of the House of Representatives are handing over the power of decision to the ballots in their hands.

The vote counter's voice echoed in the solemn council chamber.

One name was repeatedly called out, and the Democratic lawmakers almost unanimously chose the same person—Francis Underwood!
Secretary of State Joe squinted at Underwood, who was feigning composure in the audience.

Each vote count felt like a heavy blow, making his face grow increasingly grim.

Although I was mentally prepared, the opponent's advantage was simply too great.

This support has already exceeded 50%, easily surpassing half, and even crushing Perari's approval rating back then.

This country bumpkin has unknowingly won over so many members of parliament.
It's important to know that Underwood is the party whip, a position equivalent to a class disciplinary officer, responsible for coordinating votes among members of parliament to ensure the party's unified stance.

No member of parliament dared to offend him, but similarly, no member of parliament had any affection for the party whip.

Old Joe had long anticipated that Underwood, with his political skills, would be a strong contender for the Speaker's seat, but he never expected to win so decisively.

When the last vote was counted, Underwood defeated all his competitors by an overwhelming margin and officially took control of the House of Representatives.

Half an hour later, a simple cocktail party was held in the Capitol Building.

Although the election results will not be disclosed to the media for some time, this did not affect the lively atmosphere at the reception. Members of parliament raised their glasses and surrounded the new speaker, occasionally offering a few words of subtle flattery.

“Frank,” the Black president approached with a glass of champagne, addressing him by his first name affectionately, “where is the victory celebration dinner tonight?”

“In a couple of days, I’ll finish up some tasks at hand first.” Underwood said with his signature smile. “Then, I’ll throw a proper cocktail party.”

Although he had successfully become the speaker, Underwood, as always, only wore a faint smile on his face, showing little emotional fluctuation.

The Black president smiled and nodded, but the wariness in his eyes had reached its peak. The position of Speaker of the House is completely different from that of Secretary of State.

Although Joe has always been ambitious, the Secretary of State's authority does not overlap with that of the President, so the President can tolerate him and Joe cannot cause any major trouble. At most, he can only do some minor, harmless things.

The chairpersons may differ.

He wields the power of life and death over the review of major bills, holds the imperial sword to oversee and investigate government departments, and can even initiate impeachment proceedings to remove the president from office.
Now that this smiling tiger has taken this position, the Black president feels a chill run down his spine.

In the days to come, he must walk on thin ice to avoid being outmaneuvered by this old fox.

But on second thought, the two had worked together quite well in the past, at least on the surface they were on good terms.
"Should we tell Jeffrey to prepare the yacht?" the Vice President suddenly interjected, a smile of excitement on her face. "Have him get the island party ready. Shall we head over to the island tonight to celebrate for Frank? Hahaha!"

Before he finished speaking, the president and Underwood simultaneously cast cold glances at him.

At this solemn moment, this foolish woman openly discusses matters concerning the island; if someone with ulterior motives were to overhear...
Harris's laughter froze awkwardly, and seeing that neither of them paid any attention to him, he could only leave dejectedly.

After she walked away, the president put his arm around Underwood's shoulder and began to talk about serious matters.

The two discussed several bills recently reviewed by the cabinet, with the Universal Healthcare Reform Bill being the most important, as it is a core part of the president's political legacy.

The specific details of this healthcare bill are as complex as a book written in heaven, but to put it bluntly, it's a government-led "forced sale" of health.

Its core goal is to enable more Americans, especially the poor and immigrant minorities struggling below the poverty line, to access healthcare.

According to the law, every citizen is required to purchase health insurance, or face fines from the government.

At the same time, the government needs to provide medical subsidies for impoverished patients, while hospitals are required to treat all patients.

Even if the other person is a penniless homeless person, they must be cured first!

On the surface, the policy appears to be full of humanitarian concern, but the politicians present all knew that its implementation would definitely cause a major upheaval.

Healthcare costs will skyrocket, government subsidies will be a bottomless pit, and hardworking office workers will find their healthcare expenses and tax payments increasing every day.

This will inevitably create a vicious cycle: young people's hard-earned money will be forcibly stuffed into insurance funds to fill the medical gaps for elderly patients.

The real beneficiaries are probably only the homeless on the streets who can't afford health insurance and the depressed immigrants of color, such as some white trash, blacks, and Mexicans.
After all, when they get sick, they're sent to the hospital, cured, and then they just leave without paying any attention to the medical bills.
The heavy burden of healthcare costs will ultimately fall on the shoulders of insurance companies and the government. Insurance companies will inevitably pass on the costs by raising premiums, while the government will increase taxation.

In the end, the ones who really suffer are the ordinary office workers who honestly pay their taxes.

Those who can get by in Congress are not fools; almost every member of Congress can foresee the social conflicts and economic crisis that this bill may trigger after its implementation.

This is why not only did the Republican Party strongly oppose it, but there were also significant disagreements within the Democratic Party regarding the Health Care Act.

At this moment, the black president, who desperately needed a legislative victory to consolidate his power, was eagerly hoping that Underwood would rally support for him in Congress and push the bill through.

The two spoke in hushed tones in a corner for a long time, and eventually seemed to have reached some kind of political deal.

When the Black president left, his smile was noticeably brighter.

After the reception ended, Underwood, expressionless, carried the framed photo of the cabinet and walked step by step to the top of the Capitol.

There, the Speaker's office, a symbol of the pinnacle of parliamentary power, stands with its doors wide open, awaiting its new occupant.

"boom--"

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind us.

Claire had been waiting in the room for a long time.

Underwood stared at his wife, his lips gradually twisting into an exaggerated, almost ferocious smile.

"Hahaha"

He suddenly burst into wild laughter and shouted at Claire, "You'd never guess, Claire!"

“Just now, Barack—the leader of the free world, the president of the world’s leading superpower—put his arm around my shoulder and bowed to me like a beggar! He was begging me to help him pass that damned Healthcare Act in Congress!”

Maniacal laughter echoed in the speaker's office.

Claire watched her husband's near-out-of-control state, a smile also curving her lips as she slowly stepped forward and cupped his face in her hands.

But she suddenly looked up and asked meaningfully, "So, is this position satisfactory to you?"

Underwood's smile slowly faded.

He silently picked up the cabinet photo frame, solemnly placed it on the Speaker's desk, crossed his arms, and stared intently at the photo for a long time.

His gaze swept over the black president in the center, and the attorneys general and secretaries of state on either side.

He, who once could only stand in the second row, now stands next to the Minister of Justice, entering the core circle of cabinet power and becoming a truly powerful figure.

"Power is like real estate; location determines everything."

"The closer you are to the center, the higher your value."

He turned to Claire, his voice eerily calm: "Guess who, centuries from now, when people look at this photograph, will find standing on the edge of the lens, smiling?"

Claire's lips curled up dangerously.

What she was most obsessed with was the insatiable hunger for power in her husband's eyes.

The dangerous woman gracefully sat on the Speaker's desk, grabbed Underwood's tie, and pulled him between her legs: "Whatever ambitions you have, you can pursue them slowly after you conquer me at the Speaker's desk!"

Underwood smiled excitedly and deftly unbuckled his belt.

A few minutes later, rhythmic tapping echoed through the office.

Underwood looked up, panting, his gaze falling once again on the cabinet photo.

A year ago, the Black president and Joe Biden broke their promise, and the position of Secretary of State that should have belonged to him was lost.

But now, through his own means, he has managed to secure the position of Speaker of the House of Representatives.

Speaker of the House of Representatives, third in line to the presidency.

third
He suddenly felt an intense aversion to the number.

In a daze, Underwood's thoughts drifted to New York—where the terrorist named Rorschach Butcher was still hiding.

It was thanks to this madman that he was able to sit in the position of speaker.

Perhaps this dangerous piece can help him advance further, allowing him to position himself closer to the center in the photo.

Underwood felt no moral burden whatsoever, even if his partner was a terrorist.

In this dog-eat-dog political jungle, he had long since figured out a truth—if you're not the hunter, you'll be the prey!

This thought made him even more excited, and he intensified his movements, eliciting a string of coquettish curses from the woman.
(End of this chapter)