Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 152 Fila is unbearable
Ten forty at night.

The television was still on, and the president's face was on the screen.

The white-haired man stood in front of a blue background, his brows furrowed, with a deliberately contrived air of pity.

"This is undoubtedly an attack on democracy!"

As soon as the man finished speaking, Erin laughed out loud, and the plastic straw in her hand fell to her chest.

She was still half-lying on the sofa, the whites of her eyes red.

"What the hell do you mean by 'attack'?" Erin spat, her nose twitching slightly. "Just like you guys attack us every day?"

Her boyfriend, Ryan, sat on the carpet, leaning against the sofa, with his laptop propped up on his lap.

He took the dab pen from Erin, took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled a thin mist.

The living room window was closed.

The air was filled with the sweet smell of *** and the musty odor emanating from the old furniture.

“They just want people to obey.” Ryan’s voice was hoarse, his expression dazed, as if he were talking in his sleep:

"Whether you agree or not, they all say you have agreed."

The president continued his speech, beginning to discuss the importance of "national unity."

"We must not allow violence to divide us."

"This is not a partisan issue, but a matter of values."

“Value?” Erin repeated sarcastically, picking up her phone from the table and opening Twitter.

The homepage showed a video she had shared a few hours earlier.

Slow motion of Blair falling.

Accompanied by an edited version of the national anthem.

Then there's the bold red text: "WE WILL NOT BE SILENCED".

“They said it was the right wing.” Ryan’s eyes were fixed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"CNN, citing police leads, reported that pro-federalist slogans were found at the scene of the shooting."

"Those retro banners are still hanging there."

"'No agreement, no federation' and other such bullshit."

"What kind of fucking stupid logic is that?" Erin roared in anger, smashing her phone on the ground.

The video continues to repeatedly show the woman's blood splattered on the scene.

The music of "The Stars and Stripes Never Fall" intertwined with the man's speech.

"They are trying to whitewash this coup."

Erin bent down to reach for her phone, but her head was spinning, and a few seconds later she lay back down on the sofa.

"This is definitely not a random shooting."

She kicked her boyfriend twice, signaling him to pick up the things, before continuing, "This is a signal they sent."

Ryan patiently knelt down, picked up the phone that had rolled under the furniture, and then echoed:

"A candidate who was far ahead in the polls was publicly shot in the head two days before the election, and they actually said it had nothing to do with party affiliation?"

"McKen is a liar."

Erin sneered twice: "It was clearly their doing, but now they don't even dare to mention the word 'right wing'."

"Maintaining order?"

"Maintain your mother's order!"

"So, what's the next step...the next step?"

Ryan murmured, then lowered his head and took two deep breaths: "The next step, shouldn't we assassinate Rogers?"

"Kill the gubernatorial candidate, then the presidential candidate, and then—"

"boom!"

He made an explosion gesture: "It should be the McCann Empire."

“Rogers?” Erin frowned upon hearing this, her face full of disapproval.

She sat up, her hair disheveled, and coldly retorted, "Don't dream about it, they won't kill Rogers."

"When will these bastards ever lay a hand on a white man?"

Erin grabbed Ryan by the collar, forcing him to look her in the eye: "They only kill people who threaten racial and gender structures, you understand?"

"Rogers is their chosen opponent, a 'progressive figure' that they can all accept."

"He's fair-skinned, masculine, and gentle; nothing will change."

Erin paused, lowered her voice, but her tone became even harsher: "Guess who's next? It's his running mate."

Ryan paused for a moment, then said, "You mean—"

“She has a name,” Erin interrupted him rudely. “Tamara Hughes.”

"I'm warning you, remember this name."

"She is the truly destructive one."

"She is the variable they cannot tolerate." "A woman, a Black woman, a true progressive."

“Think about it,” Erin said, her eyes suddenly widening as if gripped by a sudden fear:

"If she had lived and taken office, the worldview of those old men would have been completely shattered."

So you think—

"I don't think so."

"I am very sure."

Erin looked like she was gritting her teeth.

"They've decided to make her disappear, but they're looking for a cleaner way than using bullets."

"It could be a 'traffic accident,' a 'donation scandal,' or just a tweet about a 'personality flaw.'"

"You know, these people have long since mastered the art of slandering women."

Unfortunately, Ryan was already lost in thought, chuckling to himself, and didn't hear what she said after that.

Erin looked impatient and grabbed his collar, shaking him hard twice.

No fruit.

The man's head was tilted to the side, his lips trembled, but he remained silent.

"Hold."

Erin cursed, picked up her phone again, and expertly entered the Paper Airplane group.

"Progressive Core"

That's where they usually hold political mobilizations, forward march routes, and conduct anonymous public opinion analysis.

At this moment, the news is scrolling by at lightning speed.

As soon as she swiped up, Erin couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

"Look at this! Look!"

Ryan's sluggish mind was clearly still reeling from the shock, and his reaction was noticeably slower than usual.

"What?"

"This person—"

Erin shoved the screen right in front of him, her voice trembling:

"Someone posted a screenshot saying Tamara—"

"You know, Rogers's deputy showed up at the private clinic this morning."

"So what?" Ryan asked dismissively. "It's normal for her to get sick occasionally."

"Shut up!" Erin yelled, her hands trembling as she zoomed in on the image.
“Look at the time, look at the white man next to her when she came out.”

"It's not security, it's that guy from DNC named Victor, the head of the campaign data systems."

Why did he take her to a private clinic that is not open to the public?

Ryan finally blinked, looking a bit more awake: "You think so?"

"Do you think they'd dare to just blow her head off?"

"No, they wanted her to 'withdraw from the race,' using internal procedures, health reasons, stress, and family problems."

"Believe me, they are persecuting her."

Erin's face was pressed close to the screen, almost as if she wanted to disappear into it: "Isn't this exactly what they did?"

"Kick out Black women at the 'right time'."

“This isn’t a federal election,” she stood up, gesturing wildly. “This is fucking Judgment Day.”

"They killed Blair, and they're eliminating Tamara."

"If we don't do something now, we won't even have a chance to touch the ballot later."

“You mean to protect Tamara?” Ryan asked.

"Protect?" Erin suddenly crouched down, looking directly into her boyfriend's eyes:
"Protect her my ass, she's been under surveillance for a long time, we can't get involved at all."

“But we can,” she leaned closer to Ryan, “…we can disrupt their rhythm.”

"Do you know who benefited the most after Blair died?"

“Matthew Norton, her biggest rival, a damn Republican.”

"According to current polls, he is highly likely to become the next governor of North Carolina."

"We have to do something."

Upon hearing this, Ryan cupped his girlfriend's cheeks.

Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling.

"Yes, we have to do something."

　This chapter is also known as: The Mad Left.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)