Chapter 62: Conflict? I've Always Been Kind to Others (5000 words) (Page 1/2)
Compared to Eddie Morra, Francis Underwood, who was already in the upper echelons of the government, didn't need time to grow.
He himself was a Democratic Congressman from South Carolina's 5th Congressional District, the House Majority Whip—a figure of real power in the House of Representatives.
If he truly existed in this world and could be persuaded by David, he would undoubtedly be a tremendous asset.
However, guys who engage in this kind of political maneuvering need to see tangible benefits.
The current David doesn't have the resources to satisfy what they want.
Compared to that, investing in Eddie Morra, who is still struggling to make rent, is more cost-effective.
David shook his head and temporarily put this thought aside.
Dealing with the High Table was inherently a long-term plan; being able to openly eradicate the Tarasov organization's forces in the Princeton area was already a good start.
Right now, he still needs more manpower.
...
After the three returned to the secret base—the abandoned library—they saw that Finch's expression was unusually grave.
David raised an eyebrow, having some guesses:
"What's wrong?"
Finch said in a low voice:
"Earlier, Reese earned Judge Gates's trust by saving his daughter from gang members.
So I handed over a partially redacted list to Gates through Reese.
But just after Gates initiated prosecution against them, everyone on that list was assassinated, without exception.
The people behind them acted decisively—it was a coordinated hit."
Speaking of this, Finch looked towards David.
Undoubtedly, the only force capable of carrying out such a large-scale assassination simultaneously is the High Table!
Or rather, the Tarasov organization issued regional contracts to the assassins active in the Princeton area through the High Table.
They directly eliminated all the corrupt officials who could be implicated, not missing a single one.
Hearing this, David's eyes revealed a look of understanding.
This act of cutting off dead weight is as pragmatic as a lizard shedding its tail to survive.
As for these abandoned government contacts, in America, as long as you have money, you can buy new ones sooner or later.
But if law enforcement were to trace these people back to their core operations, the losses incurred would not be comparable to the amount of money spent on bribes.
But since everyone is dead, how does his hidden mission count?
Just as David was thinking this, the branch mission of the World Salvation objective automatically appeared, still showing a 0/2 progress bar.
This means that there are still extremely deeply embedded Tarasov organization moles in the Princeton area government.
David thought for a moment and said:
"We currently have no way to prevent such things.
And the reason we are gathered here is precisely to stop more such things from happening in the future.
Looking on the bright side, everyone who died this time deserved it.
If they had been true to the oaths they swore when they took office, then this death would not have befallen them.
But don't think this matter is over.
Princeton's underworld now has a power vacuum, and countless criminals are eyeing this territory.
In the coming days, I'm afraid the number of irrelevant numbers will increase."
After hearing what David said, Finch gave a wry smile, took out four social security numbers, and said:
"Unfortunately, you were right. When you took down Teddy, the Machine simultaneously flagged four numbers.
Clearly, Princeton will have to go through a period of chaos before the criminal enterprises regain equilibrium."
David looked towards McCall:
"Although the Tarasov organization no longer controls those girls, you should understand how vulnerable those girls—who have no support and don't even have proper documentation—are in this society.
You can protect Terri from being abused by those scumbags today.
What about tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? A week from now? A month from now?
You can't protect them forever.
And deep down, you should understand that there is only one way to solve this problem: elimination!
Eliminate threats until the High Table leaves this world!"
Feeling the intensity in David's gaze, McCall decisively nodded after a brief moment of thought:
"I'm part of the team, and I will not choose to quit before achieving the goal.
But now, I need to go arrange Terri's care, and then return here to fight alongside you!"
David nodded in agreement.
Given permission, McCall stood up and headed towards the hospital; Terri, who was severely injured by that sadistic client, was still lying in the ICU.
Now that the Tarasov organization, which forced her into prostitution, is gone, he has to tell Terri this good news.
He wants to tell Terri that she is free.
Finch watched McCall's departing back and asked casually:
"How was the contact with Eddie Morra?"
"It went okay. He's not the person we need him to be yet.
But I have a feeling that he will change soon, because I saw the deadline calendar he made for himself on his computer.
His manuscript submission deadline is approaching."
Finch raised an eyebrow, his face full of surprise, and said:
"Could it be that an approaching deadline can transform a person into a genius writer?"
David smiled mysteriously:
"Of course not, but you'll understand soon.
Oh, right, I need to add a few more names to the list I gave you; they will also be useful in the future.
Walter White, Francis Underwood..."
Finch, who received the list, glanced at the sky and immediately began hacking into various databases in front of David.
As the names were entered, both people's information popped up.
First to appear was Walter, an unremarkable high school chemistry teacher in Albuquerque. According to a confidential medical report, this guy was also a lung cancer patient.
A dying man?
Finch couldn't help but glance at David again. Could it be that dying people and dying people have some kind of connection?
Or are dying people all geniuses in some aspect?
But what does David need a high school chemistry teacher for?
People like Walter are a dime a dozen in this world.
This person, just like Eddie, left Finch baffled.
But the second person made Finch's pupils suddenly contract.
Because this well-fed Frank (short for Francis), wearing an expensive suit and signature tie, was actually the House Majority Whip, holding significant power in Congress.
Compared to Walter, this guy is the real heavyweight!
Why would David pay attention to this guy?
Could it be that this guy is the High Table's backer in the upper echelons?
Finch raised his surprised and uncertain eyes to look at David; he needed an explanation!
David looked at the information on the computer screen and further confirmed that this world was a composite crossover of various series.
Moreover, everyone's lives were reset to before their respective storylines began.
In that case, perhaps he could come up with something that Frank would be interested in.
After all, what an ambitious person like Frank wants is very simple: nothing more than that position in the Oval Office.
By then, Eddie, who has become a Senator, can just lend him a hand.
After briefly planning in his mind how to persuade Frank, David noticed Finch's gaze and immediately said with a smile:
"Why are you looking at me? I don't want to assassinate him.
It's just that based on the political trajectory analyzed by the Machine, this guy will become President in the future.
So getting acquainted with him in advance will be very helpful for us to implement comprehensive criminal justice reform in the future."
Criminal justice reform?
Finch's eye twitched slightly.
This David is really ambitious in his thinking; he actually wants to influence government policy to achieve the safer society he desires?
This is too idealistic.
Behind every politician are various intertwined corporate interests; they are inherently representatives of capital, so how could they truly work for the people?
And although he, Finch, has money, compared to those giant corporations and lobbying groups, the money Finch has left is insufficient.
Unless this David can somehow acquire a large sum of money from Wall Street.
But this is too far-fetched.
Finch looked at David's serious expression and ultimately decided not to shatter David's vision.
Let him think what he wants; after all, the ideal is indeed noble.
But reality will always teach David a hard lesson.
David didn't notice the skeptical look on Finch's face.
He was getting more and more excited about the plan that was gradually coming together in his mind.
If he could really assemble the all-star team in his mind and make these former protagonists work for him...
This High Table is nothing!
With just Finch, Reese, and McCall, he could already contend with the regional Tarasov organization.
If he got a few more assets, wouldn't New Jersey be his to command?
Thinking of the continuous influx of extended lifespan, David's mood improved.
The future is bright; it's no longer just empty words.
Seeing David humming a tune as he returned to the Continental Hotel, Charon fell into confusion once again.
Are all terminal cancer patients this happy?
When death is near, can one truly still be cheerful?
Charon couldn't help but stop David, who was about to go upstairs, wanting to chat briefly, trying to figure out the truth behind David's happiness:
"I heard you had a conflict with Mr. Pete yesterday?"
"Conflict? No, you know I've always been friendly to everyone."
Charon looked at David's serious face, but his heart was full of disbelief.
Friendly?
Would someone friendly say something like 'come at me if you're not afraid of dying' in front of Mr. Pete?
The corridor of the Continental Hotel is not a private space.
Management can clearly know about all conflicts that occur in the corridors.
To be honest, David was not at fault for what happened last night.
Charon stopping David was just using this as an opening to ask David why he was so happy.
Charon shook his head and said meaningfully:
"Alright, let's not talk about him. Anyway, within the Continental Hotel, your safety is certainly assured.
As for outside, we can't help you too much. After all, the Continental Hotel is not a police force.
If we had to investigate the death of every assassin and physician outside, we would be swamped.
And Mr. Winston won't pay overtime for that."
Hearing Charon's implied meaning, David smiled:
"Don't worry, I understand."
Charon nodded. He had hinted so obviously.
He thought this smart young man should understand his meaning.
The best way to resolve a conflict is to make the other party a non-issue permanently.
For things that happen outside, the Continental Hotel will just turn a blind eye.
After saying this, Charon asked casually:
"But you seem to be in a very good mood today. Is there something good happening?"
David thought for a moment:
"Is it good news that the new targeted therapy is working?
I've been living so easily these past two days.
Oh, speaking of which..."
David slapped ten gold coins on the counter like a nouveau riche.
"Give me another dose."
For a long time, whenever Charon saw David, he would subconsciously forget the fact that he was a cancer patient.
Because except for that one terrible night, David's usual behavior really didn't resemble a patient with terminal cancer.
This also caused Charon to overlook the behavior of a terminal cancer patient after the pain subsided.
It was like seeing the long-awaited sun after prolonged darkness.
Naturally, one's heart is filled with joy.
Charon smiled, pocketing half of the gold coins on the counter. This reason for being happy was indeed very reasonable.
Then he pushed the remaining half of the gold coins back.
"If you can write an experience report on the medication for Byron Pharmaceuticals, the price of the next dose of targeted therapy can be half off."
Facing the returned gold coins, David naturally accepted them without hesitation.
Gold coins are very useful, so save where you can.
As for the experience report, with David's typing speed, it wouldn't take more than half an hour to complete.
"Okay, deal."
Returning to the ninth floor, David was surprised to see Pete there. It seemed Pete was waiting for him specifically.
David chuckled lightly, directly ignoring Pete's presence and walking towards his door.
Seeing David ignore him again, Pete couldn't help but slap the door hard with his hand.
Slap!
After a heavy thud, Pete's palm turned red at a visible rate.
Only then did David lift his eyelids and say indifferently:
"What do you want?"
Pete said somewhat through clenched teeth:
"Don't you know what you did? Do you know how many stitches he got?
He's terrified of alleys now! Do you know how much psychological trauma you've caused him?!"
David was stunned for a moment, then realized this guy was talking about the person who had been following him.
Realizing this, David laughed again:
"So what?"
Seeing David's indifferent look, a vindictive smile appeared on Pete's lips:
"So what? I want you to pay!
Plus compensation for emotional distress, medical expenses, lost wages—altogether ten gold coins isn't too much, is it?"
"Not too much, not too much.
Then you blocking my door and intimidating me, me asking you for compensation for emotional distress, medical expenses, lost wages—altogether twenty gold coins isn't too much, is it?"
Seeing David use the same words to retort, Pete immediately became furious:
"You!"
David found it amusing to see Pete looking like he wanted to strangle him but was constrained by the rules of the Continental Hotel.
He shook his head, pushed away Pete's reddened hand, and swiped open his door.
After stepping inside, he turned back and said:
"What about me? Mr. Pete, you should rest well. With such a hot temper, you might not sleep tonight.
You still have to work tomorrow, or are you saying you don't want to continue working?
After all, your diagnosis doesn't seem to match your credentials.
Perhaps the patient's mother's complaint has already reached the medical board today.
If I were you, I'd be worrying about how to face the board's review."
After speaking, David slammed the door shut, giving Pete no chance to respond.
Standing outside the door, Pete's chest rose and fell rapidly.
Infuriating, absolutely infuriating!
He clenched his slightly aching hand tightly and reflexively punched the wall.
Immediately after, Pete's face turned beet red.
He had again forgotten the basic fact that he was flesh and blood, and the wall was solid concrete.
Newton had also long ago told the world that forces are reciprocal.
So, the force Pete used just now was equal to how much his hand hurt now.
Pete looked at the tightly closed door, tempted to kick it hard with his foot.
But his recent experience had already shown that the consequence of kicking a solid wood door with flesh and blood would likely be a broken toe.
In the end, Pete could only snort angrily and leave in a huff.
As he passed the front desk, Charon stopped Pete and warned him:
"Mr. Pete, I think I need you to re-read the Continental Hotel Guest Rules.
You don't want to know the consequences of threatening a member at the Continental Hotel, do you?"
Pete's face immediately showed a pained expression. He pulled out five gold coins from his pocket and slapped them on the counter.
These five gold coins were not for the Continental Hotel, but for the person he had threatened—which was David.
Thinking of his act of funding the enemy, Pete's face turned grim again.
But the sharp pain coming from his hand didn't allow him to remain immersed in this emotion for long.
The powerful punch he had just thrown seemed to have fractured his hand.
He was now in urgent need of emergency treatment for his hand. Pete could only take one last bitter look at the five gold coins on the counter before hurrying away.
He had already made up his mind that since he was sticking up for his assistant, the five gold coins that were confiscated would have to be reimbursed by his assistant.
David, who was still in his room, didn't know that he had suddenly gained five more gold coins out of thin air.
He was thinking about how to solve the problem of Pete.
When Pete wasn't threatening someone's life, it was clearly unrealistic to have righteous people like Reese or McCall deal with him.
It might even lead to the team breaking up.
Then all his hard work these past few days would be in vain.
And having the bodyguard Michael act was also unrealistic. Their current role was bodyguard, not assassin.
Michael would only beat people up with his fists, he wouldn't kill.
After much thought, David realized that he seemed to be lacking an operative who could use any means necessary to deal with all threats.
Perhaps he should go find the hacker disguised as a psychologist—Root—in advance?
David was momentarily undecided, and his consciousness slowly drifted as he pondered.
By the time David opened his eyes again, it was already the next morning.
Only then did David realize that he seemed to have gone three days without taking painkillers.
Could it be that the tumor in his brain was really being suppressed by the targeted therapy? Or did the extra 100 days of life allow him to achieve a perfect state of coexisting with the tumor?
Regardless, the feeling of having a clear and unburdened body now was simply incredible.
David got up and washed, and according to his routine, he went to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital on time to start a new round of work.
As usual, David went to the emergency department for a look.
There, he unexpectedly found Pete, whose hand was in a cast, showing concern for an emergency patient lying on a gurney.
But the patient had a lifeless expression and was unwilling to say anything.
David even faintly heard the patient refusing all examinations, seemingly resigned to waiting for death.
[Support Goal: 500 PS → +1 Chapter]
[Support Goal: 10 Reviews → +1 Chapter]
Your review helps the story grow.
P1treon Soulforger (20+chapters ahead)