Outside the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.
The bodyguards from the Special Service wore solemn expressions.
It wasn't that they cared about which big shot had died inside, but whether this would affect their salary; after all, with an uncompleted KPI, there'd be no money for Christmas.
This medical center was known as "the President's Hospital."
In 1960, then-Vice President Richard Nixon was treated here for a staphylococcal infection.
In 1969, former President Eisenhower died here, after being hospitalized for nine months due to heart disease.
A decade later, former First Lady Mamie Eisenhower also passed away here. In 1965, former President Lyndon Johnson underwent gallbladder surgery here and invited photographers into his room.
Now, it was Old Bush's turn...
Many eyes were watching, especially those of Vice President James Dan Quayle, who had brought along the Constitution of the United States, ready to swear in at any moment.
As soon as the other side kicked the bucket, voilà, a new king ascends to the throne!
The big shots standing in the corridor turned their heads when they heard the commotion, only to see CIA Director Stanfield Turner sitting in a wheelchair, his arm wrapped in gauze, with a heavy expression.
He was lucky, the bullet had been deflected by his arm, otherwise, it would have struck his heart, and he would have been the third CIA Director to die in office within a year.
"Turner, are you alright? What the hell happened?"
A crowd gathered around, with Vice President James Dan Quayle looking at him worriedly.
Buddy, can you hide the Constitution for a second, and also, the corners of your mouth are about to split open.
Actually, James Dan Quayle himself couldn't have imagined it would come to him.
"I'm alright," Turner muttered, his eyes dark, "How are the others?"
James Dan Quayle glanced around hesitantly before finally speaking up, "Defense Minister General Carl Vorno has passed away despite efforts to save him, including two White House staff members; sir, the situation isn't looking good."
"Damn mongrel bastards!" Stanfield Turner cursed through clenched teeth.
After all, it was more his responsibility than anyone's; who could have expected Johnson to still be carrying a pistol on him.
"We have a traitor among us," Turner muttered, lifting his head, "It was Bahash Johnson; he's the one who shot us."
The faces of James Dan Quayle and the others turned pale.
In truth, many had already known when Bahash Johnson's body was carried out, but to hear it from the "CIA Director"'s mouth added a degree of shock.
The news couldn't be kept secret; who do you think sits in the White House? Businessmen, and they all have, to varying degrees, interest groups behind them.
Including James Dan Quayle, rumored to be followed by the Texas Consortium, their industry including the oil and arms businesses. His ascent would just be another spokesperson.
Who was Bahash Johnson?
He was a senior secretary, Old Bush's trusted confidant, and someone had managed to turn him?
James Dan Quayle asked anxiously.
"The Northern Mexican Army!"
The corridor suddenly fell quiet.
Outside the window, a gust of wind howled.
James Dan Quayle looked at his secretary, opened his mouth as if to say something, but all that came out was a swallowed grunt.
You tell me it's the Soviets, and I might rally and cheer for you a bit, because according to the advisors, within three years, something big will happen!
But if you say it's the Northern Army...
A New York congressman liked to criticize Victor's governance and the war on drugs on TV, and kept urging the United States to dispatch troops to conquer Mexico.
His house exploded from a gas leak, erasing his entire family.
The FBI found that someone had tampered with the gas cylinders in his home, placing a custom-made bomb inside...
If it wasn't done by the Northern Army, James Dan Quayle would pee backwards.
Turner watched the other's indecisiveness with scorn, thinking, you still plan to take the reins?
Just as Vice President Quayle was struggling to find the words, the doors of the emergency room opened, and two doctors came out.
"The situation is very grave; one of the bullets is only 0.1 centimeters from the heart. We are working to remove it, please step aside; by the way, the hospital's blood bank is running low, we hope we can procure more from other places."
"No problem, I'll take care of it," James Dan Quayle said hurriedly.
The doctors nodded and went back to their urgent business.
Stanfield Turner sat in his wheelchair, staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought, with no one knowing what was on his mind.
"It has gotten dark..."
He murmured softly, causing a bit of discomfort to those who heard.
The Walter Reed National Military Medical Center was exceptionally quiet, but outside it was bustling.
Old Bush was assassinated!
The news went viral in an instant!
As for who leaked it?
The thing is it happened.
And according to reports, the Defense Minister is dead!
This news instantly made the front page of headlines around the world, and was circulated daily on the territory of the Northern Mexican Army, almost admitting it had been their doing.
"Currently, the White House has not made any statement on this matter, but according to informed sources, this action was by Bahash Johnson, and at the moment, no organization has claimed responsibility for it."
Victor chewed his gum, squinting his eyes at the TV, and silenced it with the remote control before turning to Augustine Przybylski, who had just returned from Germany, asking, "What do you think?"