Yeet or Be Yote - a 2018 timeline

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

I have an AP exam tomorrow that I really don't feel like studying for so here's a piece of crap that I churned out in about 10 mins, will prob update as I continue to procrastinate.




6:30 PM on a Tuesday
Fairfax County


It was a dark and stormy night. Not the cliché, storybook kind - thunder booming through the sky, lightning flashing in streaks through the pounding rain, electricity in the air - the kind that usually results in a newborn appearing on a barren couple’s doorstep or some junk like that. It was the turnout-reducing kind. The kind that makes millions of illegal DACA immigrants look outside and say “nah, I’m not gonna vote illegally today.” The good kind.

It was the kind that made Ed Gillespie chortle with glee.

“Ed, stop,” said his wife Cathy. “It’s creeping me out. You’ve been doing this for hours now.”

But Ed did not care. Even better than the soothing smack of rain on the roof, better than the sound of a tree snapping in two and falling on his neighbor Greg’s Toyota, was the flurry of alerts that lit up his phone like Christmas lights.

“Fox News exit polls show Corey Stewart with big lead over Tim Kaine in Virginia Senate race…”

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

4:00 PM, in some moron’s dorm room
Los Angeles, CA

“Hey man we’re gonna go play some b-ball wanna come with?”

“Nah fam I got more important stuff to do.” The moron stared at his laptop as he had been for the last 72 hours straight, reading the exact same Atlas threads over and over yet never actually contributing to any conversation. The moron’s roommate shook his head.

“You’ve been on that site for such a long time. It’s unhealthy. We’re concerned about you, dude. You just look at maps all day. Come get some fresh air or something.” The moron made a noise akin to a snarl but sounded more like a balloon slowly releasing its air.

“Dude c’mon it’ll be fun. They’re burning Steve Alford in effigy again!” The mention of the basketball coach caused the moron’s head to spin 180 degrees, revealing bloodshot eyes and an unusually large amount of acne.

“It’s 7 on the east coast. You know what that means.”

“I actually have no fecking clue what that means.”

“It means we’re about to become conduits used to make an election night timeline seem more like a legitimate piece of literature rather than a list of candidate names and made up percentages.”

“Oh dang u rite.”

Just as he said that, the roommates’ phones began to buzz incessantly.

“Polls have closed in several key states; Braun leads Donnelly with 1% of the vote in…”

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

AP English gang?

Nah, AP Macro. Took English last year and it was not fun tho.

this is stupid which is why I love it

Anyway here's another update to this thing. I do not use drugs.




? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

“Was it worth it?”

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, a voice within Paul’s mind and yet it loomed over him, like an angry god in the heavens. Paul Ryan looked to the horizon, where the golden sky blurred and ebbed, meshing with the stark white ground that stretched seemingly infinitely into the distance.

“It was. I believe it was.” He didn’t know who he was answering, this voice that seemed to resonate as if it belonged to the earth itself. If you could call it earth. The Speaker of the House knelt down, feeling the hard, solid ground with his hands, staining them with snow white powder. Standing up, he tilted his head to the sky, speaking louder, with more assurance.

“I got what I wanted. The life I dreamed of having, all of the power with none of the responsibility. What more could one ask for?”

“What did it cost?” Paul hesitated. It had cost everything, didn’t it? He got his tax bill. But he had lost his job, Cheeto Man was still in the White House, and his majority was in jeopardy. Was that all worth a couple tax cuts?

“I… I don’t know.”

“You’ll find out soon. You just lost your first soldier.” The voice boomed again. “The answer is right in front of you, Paul.”

“Dad?”

“What the hell, no. Can you not tell what a female voice sounds like? It’s Ayn Rand.”

Paul was admittedly taken aback by this. If Ayn Rand Herself didn’t think it was worth it… He examined the powder that covered his fingers.

“Is this… is this cocaine?” Cocaine. Cocaine Mitch.

“Oh god… what have I done?”


——————————————

“With 62% reporting, the AP can now project that Andy Barr of Kentucky’s 6th district has lost his bid for reelection. This is the first seat to flip in what promises to be a long night…”

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Bit of a format change because election night coverage is the only thing worth reading.




Welcome back everyone, I’m Lester Holt with NBC and I will be speaking in red to make this easier for the viewers.

That’s very kind of you, Lester.

Thanks, Chuck Todd. Anyways, it is 7:30 in the east, which means the polls have closed in several key states - North Carolina, Ohio and West Virginia. There’s a number of key races in these states, including Democratic senators Sherrod Brown and Joe Manchin trying to defend their seats. We can’t make any calls here just yet, however. We’re gonna check in with Andrea Mitchell live at Manchin’s campaign headquarters in Charleston.

Thanks for sending me all the way out here, I really appreciate it Lester. We’re uh, having some interference it seems like… we’re picking up some extraordinary energy signatures in the vicinity of Manchin HQ. The rain is pretty strong out here, I wish I had brought an umbrella, but I can’t even hear the rain over the vibrations. It’s pretty unsettling, Lester. One of the tech guys says it may be infrasound. I wish I could get inside, you know, but I think it’s best not to interfere with whatever is going on around there. Back to you.

Thank you Andrea. Incidentally while you were telling us that, we received a call. We can now report that Barbara Comstock has been reelected to her House seat in northern Virginia. Given what we know about that area, it’s a bit of a surprise and definitely a good sign for the Republicans.

Indeed it is, Lester. NoVA has been trending left for a while now, so to see a Republican survive there must be encouraging. We’ve received reports of depressed turnout all through the area due to the rain, particularly in Fairfax County.

Interesting analysis, Savannah Guthrie. I can always count on you to speak in purple. Anyways fools, here’s a Senate map for you all who haven’t been following. It’s pretty empty right now, because we’re literally 30 minutes in. But everyone likes maps.

Not much to see there. Bernie Sanders has been reelected with an unprecedented 139% of the vote, because that’s just how things are. Governor Phil Scott has also been reelected easily over a literal 13 year old kid, because sometimes Democrats need to feel like they aren’t entirely partisan.

Speaking of governor races, have another map with like 3 states filled in:

Lester, please tell me why Republicans are in blue.

I don’t know, Chuck. I don’t make these maps, Chuck.

The House maps are normal. Look at Virginia.



Oh, that is weird. Someone should get on that soon. Hang on… we’ve got some interesting news coming out of Ohio…

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Minor movie spoilers for this one; if you know you know, if you don't know don't worry about it. This is definitely my last update for tonight, I don't think I can take any more of this crap.




He’d experienced loss before; you don’t survive almost seventy-two years on this earth without experiencing loss. He’d lost family, loved ones. There was that horrible night in ’06, when the blue wave kicked him out of Washington and sent him back home to Ohio. He had no desire to return to that place, but deep down the ambition festered, bubbled under the surface. He got his shot in ’10, beating some low-energy loser for the AG position. He was reelected easily in ’14. He bided his time. And when the opportunity came, he took it.
The opposition was weak and he crushed it easily. Taylor, Kasich’s crony-turned-rogue. Renacci, who saw the writing on the wall and decided to take on Brown instead. Husted, his biggest competitor-turned-ally. The man who lay beside him at this moment.
Fools, all of them. But, right here, right now, Mike DeWine wondered if he was the biggest fool of them all.

Loss. He expected loss, deep down. The upshot of running in the biggest Democratic wave in a decade. But this. This was worse.


“Hear me and rejoice!” Betty Sutton’s voice cut through the air. “The Realigner himself approaches. Bow before his well-coiffed might.” Well-coiffed? The dude looks like he has a bowl cut, DeWine thought. Made no difference to Sutton, I guess. “The Realigner’s path to glory begins here,” Sutton continued. “As prophesied by The_Doctor himself, to end the Reaganite Age and usher in a period of Democratic socialist hegemony in America. Tonight simply marks the first step on his quest to become the 47th president of the United States.

Rejoice, for even in death, you have become children of Richard Cordray.”

Through his cracked glasses, DeWine could see the hulking figure in front of him as he waded through the flames and debris. Husted was moaning softly a few feet away.

“I know what it’s like to lose. 2010… you got me then, Mike. You really did. You thought you had me nailed down, Mike? You had me running tail between my legs down to Washington, accepting the CFPB as a pity prize from Obama. Is that what you thought, Mike?”

DeWine could barely squeeze his words out.

“You won’t… win… ever. America knows better…”

Cordray grinned.

“They do. Of course they do. Look at Amy McGrath in Kentucky, Richard Ojeda in West Virginia. Dan McCready in North Carolina. All winners tonight. The tide is turning, Mike. It’s a pity you’ve chosen the wrong side. Even Kasich knows. You didn’t really think you could cut Medicaid and get away with it, did you Mike?”

“Stop…. calling me… Mike.”

“I’ll call you what I want. I’m done here, anyway. I’ve gotten what I wanted. The defeat I waited 8 years to avenge.” Cordray smiled again, wider this time. He raised his fist into the air, energy pulsing in waves off of it. Around him, the building began to collapse and disintegrate. DeWine felt the air prime with electricity as energy coursed through the ground, causing the cracks to glow with blinding heat and light.

“The Realignment is coming. 2024. Dread it, run from it all you like. Destiny arrives nonetheless.”

The last thing DeWine saw was the portal open, the grinning visages of Betty Sutton and Rich Cordray vanishing into thin air, as the world went white.


——————————————

In a surprisingly early call, we can now project that Richard Cordray has been elected Governor of Ohio, defeating his opponent Mike DeWine by a fairly wide margin.

Interesting implications for the rest of the Rust Belt here.

Indeed, Chuck. Indeed.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

This is literally the greatest work of literature I have ever read, bar none

Lmao thanks! I've been wanting to make my own TL since the moment I joined this forum 5 years ago. I guess this is how it's gonna go down - as a product of a mind trying very hard not to study.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

I have another AP exam tomorrow (Micro), which means that I am contractually obligated to release an update.






8:01 PM
Elizabeth, Allegheny County, PA


At the 8 o’clock bell, Rick Saccone’s last glimmer of hope went up in smoke.

It was unreasonable to think Reschenthaler would lose, of course. The new 14th was a very Republican district, even more than the 18th it would soon replace. But it was hard for Rick to keep that ideal scenario out of his mind, the shock loss that would prove his own was no fluke, the opening up of the ultimate opportunity to come back and beat Boerio in 2020.

That ended now. Reschenthaler was 35; the seat was likely his as long as he wanted it. Next door, Conor Lamb was out to a big early lead against Keith Rothfus. In the blink of an eye, Rick Saccone’s House ambitions vanished before him. His two opponents would enter the halls of the 116th Congress on opposite sides of the aisle, united by nothing but the man they defeated. Well, Reschenthaler would, at least. Hopefully Rothfus could pull it out and send Lamb’s insufferable mug packing. But with the rate things had been going tonight, Lamb would probably win by 20 or something. Because of course he would.

Pennsylvania wasn’t looking too hot anyway. The liberal court was, to be honest, just as much to blame for his defeat as Reschenthaler was. If he could’ve gotten another crack at Lamb…



Two seats flipping to the Democrats in a matter of minutes. That moron Costello was to blame for that, getting cold feet at the worst possible time. Meehan too, though he probably wouldn’t have been able to survive tonight even if he had decided to keep his hands to himself. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to move out east… No. Allegheny County was his home. Besides, it was evident that he didn’t have what it takes at the ballot box. Lamb and Reschenthaler were young and energetic in their thirties. Rick would have to seek his revenge another way.

He stepped out onto the porch, feeling the cold rain on his skin. The storm wasn’t as severe this far north, but the raindrops came down like daggers nonetheless. He fumbled around in the darkness a bit, before his fingers curled around his trusty 12-gauge.

He looked back into his warm home, where his wife was waiting for him, where his life could go on as it always did.

But why should it? Rick Saccone was never one to settle for the same. Picking up the shotgun, he stepped off of his porch and walked into the storm.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Saccone! Kill the Resch guy, not Lamb! Please!

I've got plans for Lamb, don't worry

"Mr. McConnell, I don't feel so good..." -Paul Ryan

lmao

Speaking of, I went really overboard on the superhero ripoff stuff this update. Forgive the corniness, it's mostly setup.


 




8:13 PM
An Undisclosed Location



South Carolina 5th district
A. Parnell (D) - 49.2%
R. Norman (R) - 48.8%
82% reporting

Ohio 12th district
T. Balderson (R) - 50.2%
D. O’Connor (D) - 46.6%
35% reporting

Pennsylvania 17th district
C. Lamb (D) - 63.6%
K. Rothfus (R) - 36.4%
1% reporting


Jon Ossoff took a fat cheef from his Juul. Things were looking good so far. None of his boys had won the first time around, except for Lamb. Hopefully that would change tonight. Even Hiral Tipirneni and James Thompson, whose races were admittedly longer shots, Jon had a good feeling about. He flipped through a few more races. Not much had reported after the 8’o clock poll closings, just the no-brainer statewide calls - Carper reelected, Cardin reelected, Murphy reelected. One race, of course, caught his eye.

Georgia 6th district
K. Handel (R) - 51.7%
B. Kaple (D) - 44.5%
65% reporting

Jon felt a twinge of regret seeing that. He had come so close the first time. Kaple losing would give him the chance to run for that seat again, of course, but Jon couldn’t help but feel that if he’d have run again that seat would be his. Out of all of the team members, he was only one not out in the field tonight. Everyone else had sought a rematch against their prior opponents. Well, everyone except…

“Why the hell does it smell so fruity in here? Rob Quist walked in with a sour expression on his face, as usual.

“I’m trying a different type of pod, Rob. Piña colada.”

“Why couldn’t you just smoke weed like a normal person,” Rob grumbled.

“You know I hate the smell of that stuff, Rob.” The country singer snorted.

“Prissy-ass millennials, wouldn’t know a real time if it crawled up their-“

“Holy sh**t!”

“What happened? Jon?”

“Turn on the TV!”

Rob flipped to NBC, where Lester Holt looked slightly even more concerned than he usually did.

——————————————

-trying to get ahold of Andrea right now. We repeat: there has been an explosion of some sort at Manchin’s campaign headquarters in Charleston. We’re trying to - we’ve lost all contact with our field team out there.

Wasn’t Andrea saying something about energy signatures?

Good thing the race is too close to call, heh.

Shut up Chuck.

I seriously hope no one is hurt out there.

Of course, Tom. I think we have to assume the worst at this point, but our thoughts go out to anyone who may be in harm’s way tonight. This comes in addition to the alarming reports we’re getting out of New Hampshire…

——————————————

“Energy signatures. Huh.” Jon narrowed his eyes. “Like infrared or something?”

“There’s only one person I know who can produce that much energy” Rob said, pensively twirling his mustache. There was a long pause. Jon had no idea who he was talking about.

“Do you… you don’t know?”

“No. Is it like Magneto or something?”

“Don Blankenship. Energy. Massey Energy. Jesus Christ, you are dense.”

“Ohhhhh. Wait, he lost the primary months ago. Why would he be attacking Manchin HQ?”

“I don’t know man, it’s just a guess. It honestly could just be a terrorist attack. But narratively, that’s less fun to think about.”

“So Don Blankenship is gonna be the uninteresting, stand-in villain for us to defeat? That’s kind of cliché, don’t you think?”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned, Jon, it’s that life is cliché. Also that physical assault is apparently not a turn-off for voters.

“RT.”

“What?”

“N-never mind. Time to suit up, Rob. Looks like we’ll be heading out into the field tonight after all.”

Rob Quist smiled.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Well in the 4 days or so since my last update, this timeline has already been made inaccurate by certain events (@Parnell). I'm just gonna ignore that, thanks.










Like all things, his reign was fleeting. Power is fickle; it always has been. Anyone who doesn’t learn that early on finds out soon enough.

Chris Sununu knew that; he’d known it from the day his father was pushed out of the White House; he’d known it from the day the blue wave sunk his brother like so many Republicans that year.

He just thought he’d have a little more time.


The warning signs were there from the very beginning, starting with John’s loss to Jeanne Shaheen back in ’08. He’d declined to go after her in 2014 against Chris’s advice. He’d said only that it takes a woman to dethrone a woman in New Hampshire. It couldn’t be him. The red wave halted at the New Hampshire border that year, and Scott Brown bent the knee as Shaheen claimed a second term. But despite all that, Frank Guinta had beaten back Carol-Shea Porter. The Angry Women had limits after all, didn’t they?

Perhaps they did, at some point. It was a different era now. From the dawn of the Trump administration, the Angry Women had only gotten angrier. If they couldn’t break the glass ceiling… they’d break a lot of other things. Ted Gatsas learned that the hard way a year back, when Joyce Craig knocked him out to become, of course, Manchester’s first female mayor. Steve Marchand too, when Molly Kelly buried him in the primary. Idiot. What did he expect?

In spite of all that, Chris thought he could weather the storm. He was popular and uncontroversial, like his neighbors Scott and Baker albeit with a more conservative bent. He did everything right he could’ve done; he had used his power wisely. 

But power was a fickle mistress as usual, and now it was grabbing back.

——————————————

The mood was bleak in Bridges House. A calm before the storm, almost.


Jeb Bradley peeked through the curtains for the third time in ten minutes.

“They’re coming. I can feel it.” He turned to the cluster of men standing in the foyer, whispering amongst themselves. “It’s the exact same feeling in the air. ’06. ’08. They’re coming, Governor. They’re coming for us.”

The Governor of New Hampshire stepped forward. At 44, he was the youngest state governor in the country, but it’d be impossible to tell from the look of it. The last few days had aged Chris Sununu well beyond his years. 

“What can we do?” Chuck Morse asked, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “There’s got to be something. We survived 2016; we can survive this. Is there any backup still out there?” Bradley shook his head.

“John Sununu is MIA. Both of them.” Bradley glanced at the Governor. “As is Ayotte.” The mention of the former Senator darkened the mood in the room further, if that were possible. She was their bulwark, their trump card. When Hassan took her out, it had left them open to attack. From then, it was only a matter of time.

“What about our House candidates?” Morse asked.

“No word on either of them. But it can’t be good.” They hadn’t had access to any outside news for a while now, but there was radio silence from Washington. New Hampshire, in all likelihood, would once again sending four Democrats to Congress.

“Let them come.” The two Senate leaders turned to their Governor, the man who they’d dutifully followed into this quagmire. “I will speak to them.”

“Y-you can’t. There’s too many of them,” said Bradley. In the distance, the shouts and screams began to increase in volume. The war cries of a revolution.

“Nothing else we can do.”

They knew he was right. He had Morse, Bradley, Edelblut, and the remainder of the Executive Council. It was them against an army.

The rumbling was growing louder now, by the second. It was as if the earth itself had begun to tremble. They were running out of time.

“We’re surrounded on all sides,” said Edelblut. He turned to Sununu. “They’re not gonna talk, are they? It’s been two years. They’re way past the point of talking.” Edelblut was right. It was over now, before it had even begun. Only thing they could do was decide how to go out.

“Then we die with dignity.”

They knew, all of them, what that meant. There would be no escape, but the least they could do was go down with a fight.

"It’s been an honor to serve alongside you all, these past two years.” Bradley closed his eyes. Morse looked to the ceiling, lost in prayer. “History will vindicate us. Our suffering will not be in vain. If the Angry Women must come to Bridges House, we shall welcome them with open arms. Sic transit gloria mundi.”

The men gave each other one last look as the Last Governor of New Hampshire flung open the doors.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

It's been a while since my last update, partly because I'm lazy and partly because I'm running out of ideas that don't involve aping common movie tropes. I'll put together some maps soon.



Interlude: America is Meme Country (with apologies to the mods)

5:29 PM
Los Angeles, CA

Across America, things were getting weird.

Inconsistencies. Things were happening that should not be. Archie Parnell, a man accused of domestic abuse and had been abandoned by the Democratic party apparatus, had just won his race for House, as if none of that had ever happened. Bobby Kaple, a candidate who had come third in the Democratic primary for Georgia’s 6th district, was now the nominee for the race despite having missed the runoff.

“Does no one notice that the candidate is different now? That doesn’t just happen. Candidates don’t just change.” The loser from Chapter 2 was very clearly flustered. He scrolled through the election results. “Look at Tennessee’s 4th. DesJarlais just won reelection by 30 points, even though he resigned 3 months ago.”

“Who?” The moron’s relatively normal roommate asked.

“DesJarlais? Remember the turnip scandal?”

“Oh. Oh god that guy?” The moron’s roommate shuddered, trying to shut the images he saw of the turnip scandal out of his mind.

“If the turnip scandal, one of the most horrifying incidents in American political history can just be erased, what else is going on?”

A timely alert from the moron’s phone answered that question.

“Fox News calls Virginia Senate race for Corey Stewart…”

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Interlude 2: Maps, brought to you by your friendly neighborhood framing device.

We’ve heard no word from our team out in West Virginia and have no reason to assume any of them are even alive, but that’s ok because it’s 8:30 and we have a batch of polls to close!

…Actually it’s just Arkansas. Governor Hutchinson has won reelection, because this is Arkansas. And here are the maps.

We got the colors fixed, too.

No one cares, Chuck. But yes we did get the color scheme standardized.

Senate:



Note that the Mississippi special election, not depicted here, is too close to call. More on that in a bit.

House:



Governors:



A few weird results there. It seems that Charlie Baker is doing so well at the polls that his success is not only helping Republicans in Massachusetts but spilling over into Connecticut as well.

I haven’t seen Mega-Coattails in a while, Lester.

Yeet. In summary, a bunch of races that we’ve yet to call for one reason or another.

To preserve suspense.

...Yeah basically. But it’s still early on in the night, and control of both chambers of Congress is clearly still up in the air. I’m Lester Holt and this is Election Night 2018.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Patrick Morrisey wiped the blood from his mouth. Around him, chaos reigned.

The city of Charleston, or whatever was left of it, was a mess. Manchin HQ was practically a smoking hole in the ground, destroyed by God-knows-what. Some kind of super weapon, perhaps. He wouldn’t put it past the Feds to take out a true conservative like him with a nuke. And hell if a true conservative weren’t the only thing that would take out Manchin.

As for the bastard Manchin himself, he was nowhere to be seen. Despite the amount of smoke in the air, it shouldn’t have been hard to find him. And yet… nothing.

Morrisey stood up, pain arcing through his back. As much as he hated to admit it, he was no match for Manchin head on. The Senator from West Virginia was strong, very strong, and the football player in him was still evident after all these years. Despite being two decades older, Manchin had really done a number on him.

But Morrisey was never one to back down from a fight. He had been told he’d never be able to take on Jenkins in the primary, but he stuck to his gut and followed through. Now the same people were saying that Manchin was unbeatable, that he was too good of a politician, that the environment was too bad. But whatever. Listening to the haters never got Donald Trump anywhere, did it? The president had been very helpful, of course. Even as he waffled on supporting Kevin Cramer, Trump had been there for him from the day he won the primary.

But he’d need more than that if he were to win. He knew that. And right now it seemed like that help was few and far between.

“Morrisey.” He turned around, fists raised, ready for another round with the Senator. As the figure stepped out of the fist, his eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion.

Don Blankenship stepped forward.

“Put those down. I’m not here to fight you.”

“Where’s Manchin?”

“That is a good question, Morrisey. I’ve been wondering the same thing. But it’s not something you should be worried about.”

“I’m the Republican nominee, Don. This is my fight.”

“Was. This was your fight. I’ll be taking over for you. You did a decent job, made him sweat a bit. But it’s my turn now.”

“You… you don’t even have ballot access. They denied your petition. Sore loser law.”

“Oh Morrisey, I thought you’d know better. You are a lawyer, after all.” He turned to leave. “My time here is done. Goodbye, Morrisey.”

“Not if I have anything to say about that.” Morrisey broke into a sprint. He lunged for the coal baron, only to hit the ground hard as Blankenship fizzled out of existence. “What…” Sitting up, Morrisey looked around. Not a soul in sight. But if that wasn’t Blankenship, then what was…

He barely had time to react before the earth beneath him buckled and shook. He was right, in the end. It would take a true conservative to take out Manchin, indeed. As the ground collapsed beneath him, Morrisey just prayed Blankenship knew what he was doing.

To be continued

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

It's 5:25 AM and I just made another update for the first time in months, for whatever reason. That reason being my motivation to update is inversely proportional to the amount of work I have due, and since I'm on summer break I have nothing to put off doing. (I also admittedly have had a bit of writer's block). To the 5 people who read this: enjoy the update.






“Mitch?” Paul Ryan knocked on the door to the office of his upper-chamber counterpart.

The Senate Majority Leader’s office was totally dark. Of course it was; McConnell would be elsewhere in Washington now, no doubt rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful, the donors who kept the conservative dreams alive check after check. Of course, given what was unfolding tonight, Paul Ryan wondered how many of them would be sticking around...

Silence. Of course. Paul turned to leave, probably just to head back to his office and watch the election returns in solitude. His family awaited him at home, of course, but he wasn’t in the mood to be with them, to be perfectly honest. Not with what was going on at the moment.

“Enter.” The voice, more a growl than any human utterance, seemed to come from miles away. For the slightest moment, Paul wondered if it could be the same voice he heard in his dream. Except that voice was Ayn Rand, so probably not. Either way, Paul opened the door and stepped into his colleague’s office.

“Mitch?” Paul called out through the dark. “Mitch, is that you?”

“Yes, obviously.” McConnell replied. “Who else would be sitting in my chair, at my desk, in my office?”

“Why are the lights off?”

“I like it that way,” McConnell replied curtly. “Sit down.”

“Have you just been sitting here in the dark?”

“Sit down, Paul.”

Paul did as told, fumbling around for a bit before finding a chair to sink into.

“What perturbs your mind, Paul? Rain got you down? Seasonal depression?”

“Wha-no,” Paul replied. “I just-I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Even through the darkness, Paul could feel McConnell raise an eyebrow.

“It-it was earlier today. I had… a vision.”

“Of what?”

“Of some sort of… plane, I guess? A separate world, or dimension. And there was a voice. It spoke to me.”

“What did it say, Paul?”

“It asked me if it was worth it. All of this. Trump, and the elections, and the bills we passed. All of it.” He paused. Though he still couldn’t see Mitch, the Senate Majority Leader seemed to be peering into his soul, as he always did.

“And do you think it was?”

“I think so. Yeah… I think it was.”

“Well.” Paul hesitated. “Good talk, Mitch. I should get going.” He reached into his pocket for his phone, only to realize it wasn’t there. Fumbling through the dark once more, he flicked the light switch on to see where it had dropped.

The office was coated in white powder. It was quite literally everywhere, caked thickly on everything from the walls to the photos on McConnell’s desk. Paul couldn’t even tell which way they were facing. But taking center stage, filling up most of the desk and blocking most of the Senator from view, was a massive, three foot tall pile of powder.

“I-I’m just gonna go.”

From behind the massive mound of cocaine, Mitch smiled.

“Good luck, Paul. Hope your majority stays strong. Wouldn’t want your successor to have to deal with Democrat obstruction.”

Without a word, Paul grabbed and phone and walked, out of McConnell’s office, out of the darkened halls of the Capitol, out into the rain. In his pocket, his phone began to buzz wildly with the 9 o’clock poll closings.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

I know this one's really stupid but bear with me. I'm trying out a new format. All names are made up.


EXCERPT FROM TRANSCRIPT: NPR Politics Podcast, 1 Nov 2018

WARREN BAKER, HOST: Amidst a heated campaign season, a few races have stood out as the major battlegrounds, not only a fight for control of Congress, but as a referendum on the Trump presidency. In what comes as a surprise to little, Florida is host to one of this year’s marquee contests. Today’s NPR’s Clarissa Edwards took a closer look at the situation on the ground.

CLARISSA EDWARDS, BYLINE: In the nation’s biggest swing state, we saw a highly competitive race from the very beginning, with third-term Senator Bill Nelson being challenged by outgoing governor Rick Scott. As expected, it has become one of the nation’s most competitive races. Perhaps not surprising for the nation’s biggest swing state, but what most did not expect is how strange the race would become.
It’s the typical post-Labor Day ad blitz, and Florida is no different. For Senator Nelson’s team, it was an opportunity to put out their hardest-hitting material.

NARRATOR: Rick Scott. Bought and paid for by wealthy donors and wall street bankers from Day 1. Content to line his own pockets at the expense of hard-working Floridians. But worst of all, he looks like Voldemort.

EDWARDS: Several images of Scott’s conspicuous bald head float across the screen.

NARRATOR: Is this what Florida needs representing them in Washington? A force of dark wizardry and evil? Vote Nelson on November 6th.

NELSON: I’m Bill Nelson and I approve of this message.

EDWARDS: Nelson’s first attack ad hit the Scott campaign hard. Within days, Scott’s small polling lead had turned into a 5 point deficit. But in the Scott camp, all seemed calm - no direct response had been made to the harsh allegations. But according to an anonymous aide, things were anything but that.

ANON: This was not a line of attack we had been prepared for. We had responses to almost every conceivable attack from the Nelson campaign, but never in a million years did we think Scott resembling Lord Voldemort would become a legitimate campaign issue.

EDWARDS: No one is quite sure what exactly went on in the upper levels of the Scott campaign those few tumultuous days, but a week later, Governor Scott finally spoke out at a rally in Tampa.

SCOTT: I’m sure some of you have seen what the Democrats are saying about me.

(SCATTERED BOOS FROM AUDIENCE)

SCOTT: That me and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named are one and the same! That I’m some kind of dark wizard. Can you believe that?

(BOOING INCREASES IN VOLUME AND INTENSITY)

SCOTT: (Laughing) No, of course not. But they were right about one thing. Since I was just a boy, I have been trained in the Mystic Arts. In other words, I am, indeed, a wizard.

(CROWD ERUPTS)

EDWARDS: This revelation changed the race immensely. Within a week, Scott’s polling deficit turned into a massive lead. The Nelson campaign, understandably, was at a loss as to what their next move would be. Perhaps predictably, Nelson continued his prior line of attack.

NELSON: Can we trust this man, who has sought to ruin our health care, with the keys to Washington? No! Can we trust this man, who had hidden his mystic powers all his life, to keep transparency in our government? How can we expect Voldemort to fairly represent every single Floridian?

EDWARDS: Scott, on the other hand, continued to surge in the polls. His coming out story humanized him, while Nelson’s attacks were seen as cruel and insensitive. His campaign would have to find another way to attack Scott, but they were running out of time. Fortunately for Nelson, a huge stumble by Scott would give him an opening.

(TYPICAL CARNIVAL SOUNDS)

EDWARDS: The Baker County Fair in Macclenny, not far outside of Jacksonville. It was a typical meet and greet for the voters, and for Governor Scott, a bit of an impromptu campaign rally. Since his revelation, Scott had used his wizardry as a bit of a campaign prop, busting out charms and spells on a whim. At this particular event Scott was having the time of his life, conjuring up whatever the spectators asked him. The trouble came when 8-year-old Micah Hill, enthusiastic to see real magic performed, asked the Governor to turn him into a potato.

ANON: I don’t know why the Governor thought that was a good idea. I think he got caught up in the spur of the moment, the excitement and all that. It was an innocent mistake, but a costly one. I just don’t know why Scott would think it would be a good idea to turn his constituent into a vegetable.

EDWARDS: The attack ads wrote themselves.

NARRATOR: If Governor Scott can’t even keep himself from turning kids into potatoes, how can we expect him to protect our health care?

EDWARDS: Nelson himself went hard after Scott for this incident, using Micah's plight as a rallying cry.

CROWD: JUSTICE FOR MICAH! NO MORE WIZARDS! JUSTICE FOR MICAH! NO MORE WIZARDS!

EDWARDS: With just weeks left in the campaign, Scott’s poll numbers began to crater. The race that the DSCC once considered a lost cause was slipping back into contention…

——————————————

As we can see, with about three quarters of the vote in, the Senate race in Florida is a dead heat. Governor Scott and Senator Nelson have been in a dead heat for the last few weeks, and it seems like this race is truly coming down to the wire.

Hold onto that thought, Chuck. It is now 9:00 on the east coast and we’ve got a number of races to call…

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

I miss this.

Sorry guys, I've been super busy the past few months (starting college). This timeline is about to become alternate history in a few days - my original goal was to finish it before midterms, but it's unlikely that'll happen. In the meantime, I've had a few short partial updates written for a while now; I'll just post them now. I'll try my best to get a few more updates out before the election.






“They called it for Lamb. He’s up 58-42 with 65% in.”

The blue light of the phone screen cast a ghostly glow onto Rob Quist’s face. Other than the dim cockpit lights of the helicopter, it was the only light for miles. Rural West Virginia was… rather backwards but it was pitch black. Had the storm really knocked out power all across the state?

Jon Ossoff let out a sigh of relief.

“O’Connor?” Quist shook his head.

“He’s down by a bit now. Not much vote left.”

The time, at least according to Quist’s iPhone, was 8:55; just a few short minutes away from another round of poll closings. But it could just as easily have been midnight, judging by the pitch black landscape that stretched before them.

“Yo Rob how do you still have service out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere and in a storm.”

Before Quist had a chance to respond, the helicopter jolted sharply.

“It’s not - it’s not responding!” Jon shook the console, but to no avail. “We’ve gone dead.” The radio had gone silent too. 10,000 feet in the air, Ossoff and Quist were trapped in a tin can, hurtling towards the earth.

Under his breath, Quist began to pray…


——————————————

 … a number of races we can call at the 9 o’clock bell, but even more that are too close to call. As it stands, the GOP actually has a net gain of one seat in the Senate right now, but Democrats are well on their way to the 24 seats needed to gain the House - at this point they have a net gain of 12, which puts them exactly halfway-

13, it’s 13 now.

Huh… it is 13. We’re projecting that the Democrats have flipped Ohio’s 1st district, their candidate Aftab Pureval prevailing over longtime GOP Congressman Steve Chabot.

Despite disappointing results in the mid-Atlantic region, Democrats are well on track to flip the House as most models have suggested. The Senate, of course, is a more iffy prospect. Corey Stewart’s surprise win in Virginia definitely throws a wrench into the the Democrats’ plans.

Maybe it isn’t as big of a surprise as we thought. The heavy rain throughout the area has seemed to weaken turnout, largely to the benefit of the GOP. For that reason we’re watching the Senate races in Pennsylvania and New Jersey much closer than we would be otherwise…

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

A couple shorter updates from places we've yet to cover...





New York Times, Nov 6 2018

CHICAGO - Bruce Rauner, the embattled Governor of Illinois, has been defeated for reelection, by businessman J.B. Pritzker, returning full state control to the Democrats. Rauner, one of the nation’s must vulnerable incumbents, had been trailing in the polls…

Illinois Governor
J. Pritzker (D) 52.1%
B. Rauner (R) 37.5%
S. McCann (C) 8.6%
55% reporting

   Rubbing his meaty hands together, J.B. Pritzker laughed, the smug, self-satisfied laugh of a rich man getting his way. It turned out he didn’t even need McCann in the end, the conservative pawn only existing to pad Pritzker’s margin and deliver the incumbent an even more embarrassing defeat. Pritzker had earned 52% of the vote, more than Rauner and Quinn before him had won with. It was a mandate, a percentage of the vote that had not been earned by any gubernatorial candidate in the state of Illinois since 2002.
   The Democrats were having a decent night so far, all things considered. This would be the third governor’s seat to flip, after Ohio and New Hampshire. Gillum in Florida and Mills in Maine were on track for strong victories, while Abrams seemed likely to drag Kemp to a runoff in Georgia.
   Everything according to plan. As it should be.
   Of course, knocking Rauner out was only the first step. With full state control, Pritzker had the chance to scrub the state clean of corruption once and for all. Obviously he wouldn’t be doing that, but the sentiment was nice. No, J.B. Pritzker would not be the one to right the sinking ship of state this is Illinois. He had something else on his mind entirely…
   A resurrection. Opening his desk drawer, Pritzker wiped away the thick layers of cocaine to uncover the framed photograph beneath.
   “You’ll be home soon enough. I’ll make it happen. I promise,” he whispered. He gripped the photograph, staring intensely into the eyes of Rod Blagojevich…

——————————————

   750 miles south, another plan was unfolding. A plan four years in the making, one that had slipped under the radar among all the election night drama.
   Tonight, Chris McDaniel would be vindicated.
   As it turns out, it didn’t take any funny business to get Cochran out of there. The old man gave up on his own. His successor wouldn’t be as easy to dispatch. Hyde-Smith embraced the president like a dying man does a life preserver. Of course, McDaniel couldn’t do the opposite. In Mississippi, that would be the fastest way to get yourself beaten down. So he had to settle for a classic “conservative outsider” campaign while his people did their work in the background.
   And it was coming to fruition at last. The 2014 primary was in the media spotlight for months, the marquee race between old Washington insiders and the up and coming movement conservatives. 2018 was nearly unwatched. If there was upset potential, it was from Espy. And yet here he was.

Mississippi Senate (special)
M. Espy (D) 38.1%
C. McDaniel (R) 30.2%
C. Hyde-Smith (R) 28.5%
48% reporting

   A small lead, but a lead nonetheless. Once tonight was over, all that stood himself and the Senate was Mike Espy. And after that…

——————————————

   “How? This can’t be possible! I had the lead! All the polls had me in the lead.” The Lamont camp was silent. It was 2016 all over again, except somehow even worse. As Democrats swept across the country, the GOP was poised to flip this one seat. The manchild-like reaction of Lamont did not help matters either.
   “He embraced Trump! How the hell does that sh**t fly in Connecticut?” There were no answers, only the election returns displayed on large screens around Lamont HQ:

Connecticut Governor
B. Stefanowski (R) 49.0%
N. Lamont (D) 44.9%
O. Griebel (I) 5.5%
60% reporting

   “It seems like the blue wave is hitting everywhere except Connecticut,” said one staffer. “With the exception of Murphy and the house seats. So it really hit everywhere except this race.”
   “Jeez, thanks for that,” said Lamont. As he said that, the television lit up, announcing the victory of Janet Mills in Maine. Lamont threw his hands up in the air, rather over-dramatically. He needed a break.

   “A break” basically meant staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. After about five minutes of this, he heard the door creak open. A sympathetic staffer, probably.
   “You did this to yourself, Ned.” Ok, so not a sympathetic staffer. Lamont turned around.
   “Wha- not you again. I thought I was done with you after 2006.” The ghostly figure of Joe Lieberman stood before him, looking as smug as ever. “You’re not even dead! Why are you haunting me.” The Lieberman-ghost smiled.
   “It’s a force projection. I’m at home right now, enjoying a fine glass of scotch. What are you doing, little Ned?”
   “Are you just here to rub it in? 2006 was embarrassing enough. Now I have to be the only Democrat to lose in this goddamned wave.” Lamont’s face began to turn red. He really did have a sh**tty turn of luck these past years. The Lieberman-ghost shook its head.
   “You aren’t the only one, Ned.” Lamont raised an eyebrow.
   “Really? Show me.” Lieberman-ghost had a grim look on his face.
   “The Senate. Watch the Senate. Things aren’t what they seem there. McConnell’s got tricks up his sleeve. You saw what happened in Virginia. You think that’s just because of a little rain?” Lamont shrugged.
   “Democrats are less likely to show up if it’s rainy out. It’s a scientific fact.” The Lieberman-ghost snorted.
   “Ned, you dipsh**t. This is why you lost as the Democratic nominee for a Senate race in Connecticut in Democratic wave year to a neocon independent. Can’t put the pieces together.”
   “What does that have to do with the Senate?”
   “I was in the Senate, little Ned. I know a thing or two about how Mitch and his people work.” Lamont narrowed his eyebrows.
   “Care to explain?”
   “Just take it as a blessing that you lost tonight. Stefanowski is about to have a lot on his hands. Also Raimondo is losing too; you could’ve just Googled it.”
   “sh**t. You’re right.”
   “As I always am. Anyways Ned, take care. Everything happens for a reason; I think you’ll find that out in the coming months.” With that, the hologram of Joe Lieberman fizzled out of existence, leaving Ned Lamont to face his supporters and staffers alone.

“Watch the Senate.”

——————————————

Just minutes before the 10 o’clock bell, we have an important projection to make. Mike Braun has won the Senate race in Indiana, defeating the incumbent Joe Donnelly - certainly a major call towards projecting Senate control. If one thing’s for certain, it’s that the race for Senate just got a lot more interesting…

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

I'm gonna buckle down and (hopefully) drop an update in the near future. Since the actual election happened I was sort of unsure where exactly to go. As of now my plan is to finish the timeline as I originally intended, keeping roughly the same plot outline I'd created months ago. Obviously most of this TL was not meant to be taken as a serious prediction, but some of it did fall in line with what I thought would happen, and some of it aged quite poorly.

Such as this:

You must be logged in to read this quote.

And these:

You must be logged in to read this quote.

Obviously, I missed some of the more out-there upsets (SC-01, OK-05) as well.

I've decided that I'm not going to retcon anything and finish as I had originally planned. This TL is officially alternate history, specifically one where every politician in America lost roughly 20 IQ points in May of 2018. It is my hope that I can follow this up with a similarly dumb 2020 timeline, but for now I'm focused on bringing whatever this is to a satisfying conclusion.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Finally managed to finish this one, and it's probably my longest yet. Hope it was worth the wait.


The time is 10:30, and we have a huge projection to make. The Democrats have won control of the House, flipping their 24th seat and putting them exactly at 218.

The seat in question is Minnesota’s 2nd, where Angie Craig has won a hotly contested rematch over Congressman Jason Lewis.

With plenty races still outstanding and polls on the West Coast not even closed yet, Democrats seem poised to not only take the majority but a mandate as well. This could be the biggest Democratic seat gain in decades.

In spite of that, Lester, things are looking up for Republicans in the Senate - they're currently at 49 seats, just one away from keeping the majority. Obviously we have called Indiana for Mike Braun, which makes 2 gains for the GOP already. Despite landslide wins for the incumbents in Nevada and Montana, many races are turning out much closer than they expected, while Republican challengers lead in Missouri and North Dakota. New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio… all too close to call at this time. In Florida, the nation’s biggest swing state, Governor-Wizard Scott maintains a small lead over Senator Nelson. However in Texas, Senator Cruz is barely leading his opponent.

Who was his opponent again?

The full name escapes me. Apparently it’s some loser named “Beeto”?

Right, of course. And in the Governor races, it’s anyone’s game. Democrats have picked up seats around the country, but the GOP has notched one decisive win in the traditionally Democratic state of Connecticut.

Ned Lamont. What a bum.

And because most people can’t read, here are some maps:

House:


Senate:


Governor:


The dark blue in Minnesota means that we've called both Senate races there for the Democratic candidates. In Mississippi, we can protect that the race will head to a runoff. However, it is still unclear which Republican will advance to face Mike Espy, though Chris McDaniel currently has a small lead.

Of course we’d like to remind viewers that we still have no idea what is going on in West Virginia. We’re working on that, but in the meantime all we can say is that it is still too early to call…

——————————————

The rain had yet to fully subside, but it hardly mattered at this point. Even now Hugin seemed to be maintaining his lead as fewer and fewer precincts remained to be counted. Hands in his pockets, head down, Bob Menendez wandered the streets of North Bergen, wondering where it all went wrong.

He had been out-maneuvered, plain and simple. His past had caught up with him at the worst possible time, and Hugin had seized the opportunity. But most damning of all was the campaign operation Hugin’s camp had formulated. One that magnified both Menendez’s weaknesses and Hugin’s strengths. In a year where Democrats were sweeping across the nation, Hugin refused to run on a basic partisan platform. Not when New Jersey was rejecting Trump harder than ever. It was a popularity contest, more reminiscent of a middle school class president election than a Senate race, Menendez reflected bitterly.

It was no longer Democrat vs. Republican - it was Alpha Bob vs. Beta Bob, the Chad Hugin vs. the Virgin Menendez.

It was the most superficial campaign Bob had ever seen in his life, even worse than the pointless mudslinging that was the 2016 election. And yet it had worked. At the first debate, Hugin had ignored his first question, about health care, in favor of asking his opponent how much he benched.

“That-that’s hardly a relevant question, Mr. Hugin,” Menendez had responded. Hugin grinned widely.

“Sure it is. We don’t want little weak boys representing the great state of New Jersey in Washington.” The crowd cheered, more than Menendez had ever heard in his life. How was this happening?

“Mr. Hugin, I’d like to remind you that we’re discussing the individual mandate, not weight-lifting. Moderator?” The moderator shrugged. Hugin laughed, obnoxiously loudly.

“Senator, the only health care that matters is how you take care of yourself. So tell me, do you even lift, bro?” The crowd was deafening.

“Mr. Hugin, this is clearly a deflection tactic from your own horrible record,” Menendez responded. He didn’t expect to be bringing out the big guns this early, but this was ridiculous. “As CEO, you repeatedly raised drug prices at the expense of patients. You were more than willing to sacrifice the lives of people just so you could line your pockets. You represent the very worst of the corporate world, Mr. Hugin. What do you have to say for yourself?” The crowd was dead silent. It was working.

Hugin frowned, pondering the accusation. Rubbing his overly-pronounced chin, he looked at Menendez, then back out at the crowd.

“To all the haters, I have but one thing to say.”  The air was thick with tension. “In this world, you can do one of two things. You yeet, or you be yote.” Then he dabbed. He dabbed.

The crowd went wild.

——————————————

“Rob? Rob? You there?” Jon Ossoff stumbled through the mist, desperately searching for his teammate.

He’d barely had time to register what happened. The helicopter had seemingly broken apart in midair, defying all logic and physics. And somehow, against all odds, Jon had survived. As for Rob Quist, all he could do was hope.

Jon had always known West Virginia was rather… underdeveloped, but he hadn’t expected it to be this bad. It was a true hellscape, smoking craters dotting the scorched and ruined land. Not too far away, a massive chasm had opened up. How that had happened, he didn’t even want to guess.

“Jon!” A familiar voice called through the fog. “Jon is that you?” Jon barely had time to react as Rob Quist appeared, looking rather worse for wear but seemingly in good spirits. “

Jon. You need to see this.” Jon looked at him quizzically. What could be so important to see in such a desolate place?

After about a mile walk (which was admittedly more than Jon had done in the last ren years at least), the cause for Rob’s excitement became apparent. Two opposing pillars of light, locked in battle. At the end of each pillar, a figure was visible.

“Is that Joe Manchin?” Indeed it was, the Senator’s face locked in determination and desperation. And at the other end… the CEO (and convict) himself.

Don Blankenship.

——————————————

“We will always be fighting for the values we hold dear, regardless of which offices we hold. I just wanted to end by saying: God bless Kansas.”

Applause and cheers erupted throughout the room, but they felt different than the ones he was used to throughout the campaign. It wasn’t excitement, or hope, or victory. The air of disappointment hung heavy as Kris Kobach exited the stage.

“Kris, where are you going?” his wife Heather asked. “Your supporters are still here.” Kobach sighed.

“I’ve got business to take care of.” That was a lie. He just needed space. Taking the backdoor exit, he left the convention center and got into his car.

“No Republican has ever succeeded a Democrat in Kansas,” he reminded himself. The words, from his concession speech, were true. But the same was true in Tennessee, and Bill Lee had just won that state by 20 points. Kobach turned the ignition and drove.

He need space and air. Luckily, Kansas had plenty of that. It couldn’t have been his fault, could it? No, it was the outside money, the California and New York liberals bankrolling his “moderate” opponent. It was that gadfly Orman, stealing reliably Republican voters. It was even Colyer’s people, withholding their support under the table while pretending to be fully behind Kobach’s campaign. And obviously, it was the illegals.

He stopped by the edge of a field, and got out of the car. Though the lights of the city still filled the night, the vast expanse of the plains stretched before him. The race had aged Kobach much more than he’d prefer to admit. But in some way, he was glad it was over. His term was up in two months, and after that…

Then what?

His question was, evidently, answered by the military jet currently landing on the grass in front of him.

“What the hell?”

Several men dressed in black got out and approached him. The Feds were coming for him after all. He felt his pockets, then looked in his car. He was sure he had his gun on him, but where?

“Secretary Kobach.” One of the men removed his glasses. “Sorry to hear of your election defeat.” Kobach let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “The President wishes to see you. Important matters he would like to discuss.”

Kris Kobach began to wonder if fate (and the President) had more in store for him than just a governorship...

——————————————

“We have to do something,” said Rob. That much was obvious, but what? Was there anything at all they could do to affect the battle? Jon looked at him grimly.

“We have to try,” he responded. Picking a decent-sized chunk of rubble off the ground, he heaved it in Blankenship’s direction. It made it about 10 feet. Rob chuckled.

“Lemme try.” He picked up a rock about the size of his head, and tossed it at the CEO. It bounced harmlessly off him, but both candidates turned their heads and faced the pair.

“Who the hell are you guys?” Blankenship asked, still firing a beam of energy from his hands. Jon stepped forward.

“I’m Jon Ossoff, Democratic nominee for the special election in Georgia’s 6th district.”

“And I’m Rob Quist, Democratic nominee for the special election in Montana.”

Blankenship began to crack up. Manchin sighed.

“So this is who they send as backup,” he muttered under his breath. “Couldn’t even get one of the guys who won.”

“Are you the Star Wars kid? That guy? The one they spent millions of dollars on and couldn’t even beat some also-ran?” Blankenship was cackling. “Geez laddy, you’re young! Get a real job!”

Jon looked at Manchin, who gave the slightest hint of a nod.

Keep him talking.

“You’re probably right, Mr. Blankenship. Perhaps you could share some insight?” Rob gave him a dirty look, which Jon returned with a wink. Rob’s eyebrows raised. He understood.

“Son, you always gotta start getting your hands dirty. I’ve worked in coal all my life, even when I was in school. Your generation doesn’t know hard work, I tell you. When’s the last time you lifted something heavier than your laptop, boy?” Jon bristled, but he had to keep the conversation going. He took the bait.

“Actually, I helped my parents move furniture just last week. A very daunting task, but I did it without dropping anything on my toes. Rather impressive, I’d say.” Blankenship laughed even harder. As he did so, the twin pillars of light faded to nothing.

“You’re a real soy boy, aren’t ya! You wanna know what we did to kids like you back in my day?”

Manchin had a determined look on his face, his hands beginning to glow.

“Tell me.” The Senator’s hands grew brighter as he raised them and aimed.

“We-“


*BOOM*


Manchin sunk to the ground, hands grasping at his chest. 50 feet away, Blankenship’s jaw dropped.

Rick Saccone lowered his shotgun.

Rob and Jon shared looks of equal parts shock and horror. The unbeatable titan Joe Manchin, taken out by a bullet. From Rick Saccone of all people. Jon sunk to his knees and screamed in anguish. Rob gave the attacker an accusing look.

“This changes nothing for you, Rick. Lamb won. He’s in Congress, and you will never be.” Rick shrugged.

“Lamb isn’t beatable, at least for now. So I went to friendlier territory. What better place to start than West Virginia?”

“Coward,” Rob growled.

“And we’re +4 in the Senate in a Democratic wave year.”

“You took him out with a bullet.”

Manchin looked at at the two failed candidates standing over him, and at the one who had just brought about his demise. For the first time in 22 years, he would be joining their ranks. He laughed.

“That’s no mere bullet,” he said. “It’s polarization. Comes for us all someday. I just thought I’d have a little more time. He sat up, and faced his opponent. “Have fun dealing with the mess, Don. I hope you find it worthwhile.” He lay down on the ground, looking up at the dark November sky.

The last Blue Dog was gone.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Finally got around to updating. This is probably the penultimate update; I plan on one more before an epilogue.








“This was not supposed to happen.”

Keith Ellison was hundreds of miles away at his own campaign headquarters in Minneapolis, but he would’ve known exactly what DNC chair Tom Perez was referring to.

Michigan Senate
J. James (R) 49.8%
D. Stabenow (D) 48.2%
95% reporting

“This just doesn’t line up with any of the polling, or any of the other races. Whitmer won; Slotkin and Stevens won. Why is Stabenow, the only Democratic incumbent, about to become the only Democrat to lose? It doesn’t make sense to me, Tom. It just doesn’t. We didn’t neglect the state like Hillary did. Debbie made sure of that.”

Ellison was quiet for a while, before letting out an audible sigh.

“Sometimes there just isn’t much we can do, Tom. You said it yourself. We did everything we could. The chips just didn’t fall in our favor.”

“But it’s baffling. It doesn’t make any sense how we can underperform in the Midwest even more than we did in 2016. And don’t even get me started on Virginia.”

Virginia was probably the worst out of all of them. Tom had only forgotten because of the disaster presently unfolding in the Great Lakes region.

“It won’t help you to dwell on it,” Ellison replied. “We won the House, by a greater margin than anyone had expected. And we’re hitting our targets in the states.” He was right. With only a few votes left to count, Scott Walker was trailing by half a percent.

Then again, so was Bob Casey.

Ellison sighed again. He sounded just as worn out as Perez. The campaign season had taken its toll on the DNC leaders. “Go get some rest, Tom. I’ve got some business to attend to. You flipped the House in your first season as chair. You should be proud.”

Perez had almost forgotten that Ellison had been running his own campaign this whole time. In spite the #metoo allegations against him, he was the next Attorney General of Minnesota. It also meant that he’d be vacating his position as Deputy DNC Chair. Despite their policy differences, they’d done a great job of bridging the gap between the two wings of the party.

And after all that, it was Democrats being voted out of the Senate, not Republicans.

“You should be too, Keith. Congrats on your win, of course. Best of luck as AG.”

“Thank you Tom. I’d wish you luck as Chair, but I don’t think you’ll need it,” Ellison chuckled. He hung up the phone, leaving Perez in the darkness of his office.

——————————————

Mitt Romney awoke to darkness.

He tried to move his hands, but to no avail. They were tied tightly behind his back, and to the chair he was presently bound to. His legs were restrained in a similar manner. No chance of escape. He rolled his neck in hopes of shaking off whatever was covering his head, but was met with a sharp pain.

How long had it been? He probed his memory, but came up blank. The last thing he remembered was being with his family, celebrating his election as Senator from Utah. Where was his family? Where was he?

As if in response to his questions, whatever was covering was head was forcefully yanked off. Romney blinked and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the blinding light.

The room was entirely white, from ceiling to floor. He raised his head to focus on the young man standing in from of him. He wore a grim expression on his face, and looked every bit as worn out as Romney felt despite being impeccably dressed.

Where did Romney recognize him from?

The young man walked past Romney, approaching another prisoner who was similarly bound. He pulled the burlap sack off his head, revealing a man Romney knew all too well.

His running mate, the bright-eyed Congressman-turned House Speaker. Paul Ryan.

Ryan shook his head, trying to make sense of the stimulus overload just as Romney had moments earlier. Noticing the Senator-elect, he raised his eyebrows. “Mitt?”  He then shifted his gaze to the young man, their captor. “What the hell? You?”

Before the young man had a chance to respond, a door Romney hadn’t even noticed before opened, and two men entered the room. He heard Ryan cry out in shock and anger. Romney narrowed his eyes at the two old men standing before him.

Mitch McConnell and Chuck Schumer. Opposing party leaders. Adversaries.

Schumer turned to the young man who’d been watching Romney and Ryan. “Thank you for your help, Conor. You’re free to go,” he said. The young man nodded and exited without a word.

The room was silent.

“First order of business.” McConnell allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. “Congratulations on being elected to the Senate, Mr. Romney. I think you’ll find it to be a highly rewarding experience.”

Romney spit on the ground.

“Not very civilized for a Senator-elect, but I’ll let it slide given the circumstances. I suppose you wish to know why you are here.”

Before Romney could respond, Ryan started to moan. “Cocaine Mitch… Cocaine Mitch… it all makes sense…”

McConnell and Schumer gave him equally poisonous looks of disdain.

“What the hell is he talking about?” Romney asked.

“All you need to know is that Chuck and I have taken some… corrective actions these past few months. Certain agents in Washington have threatened the security of our nation, whether they are aware of it or not. We felt that it was necessary to intervene in some cases.”

“Agitators. On both sides of the aisle,” Schumer added.

“Does that include Trump?”

McConnell and Schumer glanced at each other, before seemingly deciding to ignore the question.

At that moment, the door creaked open. Keith Ellison, Deputy DNC Chair, entered the room.

“Chuck? Nancy wants to speak to you.” Chuck’s face twisted into a sneer.

“Tell her I’ll be a few minutes. I’ve got some business to handle,” said Schumer, gesturing to the two men tied up in the center of the room. Ellison raised his eyebrows.

“Of course, Senator. I’ll let her know.” He had looked every bit as worn as that young man Conor. Romney wondered how people like them could’ve gotten wrapped up in… whatever this was.

Schumer scoffed. “Nancy. No greater thorn in my side. Of course she gets to benefit from all this. I’d almost rather have you in charge, Paul.” He laughed caustically. Ryan gave him a look of disdain matching Schumer’s from earlier.

“Can you tell us why you kidnapped us now?”

“Of course,” McConnell replied. “We brought you here because we need you to do us a favor.”

“And that is?”

“Comply. Do what you are told to do. You don’t have to support what we’re doing, but you don’t get to step out of line.”

Romney’s cheeks burned with anger. Who were these men, telling him what he could and couldn’t do? “And what if we do?”

McConnell give him a look of ice and steel. “Jeff Flake. Tim Kaine. Claire McCaskill. Debbie Stabenow. Among others. They flew too close to the sun, and the rest is history. Don’t be like them.”

Romney’s eyes widened. “You… you rigged the elections? You’d undermine the essence of American democracy?” McConnell shook his head.

“Not rigged. Not at all. But we have our methods of ensuring desired outcomes.” That sounded a lot like rigging, but Romney decided not to bring it up.

“Except you are about to leave office, and you’re from a safe state. Which means we’d have to resort to… alternative methods.”

“That sounds like a threat on our lives,” said Romney.

“It sounds like whatever we decide it sounds like.”

“I just have one question,” said Ryan.

“What would that be?” Schumer replied.

“Does the President know about this?”

The two Senate leaders shared a look again. For the briefest of moments, Romney saw fear creep into their eyes. Without another word, the two men approached their prisoners, collecting the burlap sacks off the floor. The sacks were stained white.

Before he could make any attempt to resist, a bag was pulled over Romney’s head once more, sending him back into darkness.

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

If Republicans do so well in Virginia and Michigan in the senate map, I think they would actually also pick Montana.

But, you see, Jon Tester is an Unbeatable Titan, which is why he was able to win.(This TL is a meme)

[Pessimistic Antineutrino]

Hey all,

This is coming back. At some point. Probably in a new thread. It will continue this story, through 2020 at least. The first chapter is written, and I hope to write several more before I update. Finals are coming up and I'm not big on the "drop an intro post and dip for months" trend. I guess I'm kind of doing that now though. Either way, it'll be posted when it's ready.

To the 10 of you who read this, sorry for abandoning it. I haven't been active on this forum for a long time and I don't really plan to be much more active in the future. But the timeline will be back. Consider the last update a cliffhanger I guess.